4 Provincial academies gave intellectuals and amateur scholars a forum for presenting and publishing the fruits of their labors. Such academies tended to sponsor conservative scholarship.
Chapter Twenty-Two: Patterns of behavior, In 1830
Latin was read out, at random. He recited: his memory was found accurate, and the prodigy was admired with all the clamorous energy that flows at the end of a good meal. Julien looked at the beaming faces of the ladies; some of them were not bad. He noted the tax collector's wife, he who had sung so well. "I am ashamed, really, to speak for so long in Latin, in front of these ladies," he said, watching her. "If Monsieur Rubigneau"—this being the member of two academies—"would have the goodness to read, at random, a Latin sentence, instead of proceeding to what follows in the Latin text, I'll venture on an impromptu translation." This second demonstration raised his glory to new heights. There were several rich liberals in attendance, also the happy fathers of children capable of being awarded scholarships, who in that capacity had become immediate converts, right after the last revivalist mission. In spite of such cunning tricks, Monsieur de Rênal had never cared to have them to his house. These honorable men, who had known Julien only by reputation, and because he had been seen on horseback during the visit by the King of ———, were his noisiest admirers. "When will these idiots grow weary of listening to biblical phrases, of which they don't understand a thing?" he thought. But rather than the language itself, what amused them was its oddity. It made them laugh. But Julien grew tired. He stood up, gravely, as six o'clock sounded, and told them of a new theological discussion by Ligorio,5 which he had been studying for recitation, the next day, to Father Chélan. "Because my business," he added pleasantly, "is to hear lessons recited, and to recite them myself." They laughed heartily; they admired him. This is how it is, in Verrières. Julien was already standing, so in spite of decorum all the others rose: this is the power of genius. Madame Valenod kept him for a quarter of an hour; he was required to hear the children recite their catechism; they committed the funniest mistakes, which he alone noticed. He could barely keep from correcting them. "What ignorance of religion's first principles!" he thought. He finally made his farewells and thought he might escape. But he had to weather a fable by La Fontaine.6 "This is a highly immoral writer," Julien told Madame Valenod. "A fable he wrote on my lord Jean Chouart has the effrontery to pour ridicule on the most venerable of things. He has been roundly censured by the better critics." Before he left, Julien received four or five invitations to dine. "This young man does honor to our region," the merriest guests shouted in unison. They went so far as to talk about a grant, from public funds, which would even allow him to continue his studies in Paris. As this reckless notion was making the dining room ring, Julien nimbly got himself to the outer door. "Ah, scum! scum!" he exclaimed to himself three or four times, in a hushed voice, as he gratefully breathed in the fresh air. At that moment he felt himself profoundly aristocratic, he who for so long had been so shocked by the contemptuous smile and haughty superiority he had discovered, under the polite phrases addressed to him by Monsieur de Rênal. He could not help being aware of the enormous difference. "Let's even put aside," he said to himself as he walked along, "that this is about money stolen from captive poor folk—and yet, to keep them from singing! Had