4 Two priests who rejected the Church in favor of the Revolution. For Sieyès, see note for p. 65, Epigraph. Henri Grégoire (1750–1831), known as l'abbé Grégoire, was a deputy to the Third Estate from Grenoble in 1789, and a member of all the revolutionary assemblies. He voted for the execution of Louis XVI and against the Empire. He was a leader in the antislavery movement in France. In 1989, his remains were brought to a place of honor in the Pantheon, in Paris.
The Red and the Black
Julien's melancholy, aided and abetted by the poor nourishment of meals at eighty-three pence each, as furnished by the seminary's supplier, was starting to affect his mental balance when suddenly, one morning, Fouqué appeared in his room. "I finally got in. I've been to Besançon five times, so help me, trying to see you. All I've gotten to see is that wooden face. I stationed a spy at the seminary door: Why the devil don't you ever go out?" "It's a test I've inflicted on myself." "You've really changed. Finally, I've actually seen you. Two shiny coins, worth five francs each, have just taught me I was an idiot for not offering them the first time." The two friends talked on and on. Julien changed color when Fouqué told him: "By the way, did you know this? Your pupils' mother has become wonderfully devout." He spoke matter-of-factly, which hits very hard at a passionate soul, plainly bowled over, its dearest concerns affected. "Yes, my friend, into the most exalted devotion. I've heard she goes on pilgrimages. But Father Maslon, who's been a spy on Father Chélan all these years, is eternally shamed, because Madame de Rênal won't go near him. She goes to Dijon, or Besançon, to make confession." "She comes to Besançon?" asked Julien, his forehead reddening. "Pretty often," answered Fouqué, questioningly. "Have you got a copy of The Constitutional?"5 "What are you talking about?" answered Fouqué. "I asked you if you had a copy of The Constitutional," answered Julien in the calmest of voices. "They cost thirty pence an issue here." "What? Liberals, even in the seminary!" Fouqué cried. "Poor France!" he added, imitating the hypocritical, sweet-toned voice of Father Maslon. This visit would have had a profound effect on our hero, except that the next day, because of what he'd been told by the little seminarian from Verrières, who seemed to him so childlike, he came to make an important discovery. From the moment he'd entered the seminary, Julien's conduct had been simply a series of false steps. He made bitter fun of himself. In truth, everything important in his life had been knowledgeably done, but he'd paid no attention to details, and those most skillful in seminary ways pay attention to nothing but details. In addition, his classmates had come to think of him as a freethinker. He had been betrayed by a host of tiny actions. In their eyes he had been convicted of a monstrous sin: he thought, he judged for himself, instead of blindly following authority and example. Father Pirard had not been of the slightest help: outside the confessional, he had never addressed a word to Julien, and there too he listened more than he spoke. It would have been very different had he chosen Father Castaneda. From the instant Julien became aware of his foolishness, there was no more boredom in his life. He wanted to know the extent of the damage and, to do this, he dropped a bit of the arrogance and stubbornness with which he had repulsed his classmates. And then they could take their revenge. His advances were met by a contempt that came very close to derision. He realized that, from the time he'd first come to the seminary, there had not been a single hour, especially during recess, that might not have had repercussions for or against him, that might not have either swelled the number of his enemies or won him the goodwill of the sincerely virtuous among the seminarians—or, at least, those less coarse than the others. The damage