Home Categories Novel Corner red and black

Chapter 27 Chapter Twenty-Seven

red and black 司湯達 2335Words 2023-02-05
The reader will certainly allow us to furnish few clear and exact facts about the life of even this period.It's not that we lack facts, quite the contrary; but what he saw and heard in seminary may have been too dark for the mild tone with which this book strives.Contemporaries who were distressed by something recalled it with nothing but a disgust that stifled any other pleasure, even that of reading a story. Julien tried hypocrisy, but seldom succeeded.He was often disgusted, even downright discouraged.He was unsuccessful, and still in a menial profession.Even a little outside help would have been enough to revive him, and the difficulties to be overcome were not great; but he stood alone like a boat abandoned in the ocean for a while.I'm successful, he thought, and I'm going to spend my life with such despicable people!A crowd of gluttons, to whom no sin is too vile, can be thought of only as they gobble up fatty omelets at the table, or of the priests of Castanedes!They shall reign; but at what price, O great God!Man's will is strong, I read everywhere; but can it overcome such aversion?The task of great men is easy; however dire the danger may be, it is beautiful to them; but who but I can understand the ugliness of all that surrounds me?

It was the most unbearable moment of his life.How easy it was for him to enlist in a fine regiment stationed at Besançon!He could have been a teacher of Latin; how little was his subsistence!But that would be no future, no future to his imagination, it would be death.Here is the detail of one of his miserable days. How conceited I am, I often rejoice that I am different from those peasant children!Well now, I've had enough life experience to see the difference and hate it.One morning, he said to himself, this great truth had just been revealed to him by one of his worst setbacks.He worked for a week trying to please a monk who lived in an atmosphere of holiness.He walks with him in the yard, humbly listening to nonsense that makes one fall asleep standing up.Suddenly, a storm came, and there was a muffled thunder. The holy monk pushed him away roughly, and shouted:

Listen; everyone in this world is for himself, I don't want to be struck by lightning; God can strike you with lightning like an infidel, like a Voltaire. Julien gritted his teeth and opened his eyes wide to look at the sky full of thunder and lightning. If I sleep in the storm, I deserve to be drowned!cried Julien, let us try to conquer another pedant! The bell rang, and it was Father Castanede's lesson in the history of the holy religion.On that day, faced with these young peasants who were so terrified of hard work and the poverty of their fathers, Father Castanede taught that government, so terrible in their eyes, can only Authorization, only with real and legal power.

Let your holy life, your obedience, make you worthy of the Pope's care, and be a stick in his hand, he added, and you will be given a splendid position where you will command without supervision. ; a tenured office, one-third of the salary paid by the government, and the other two-thirds paid by the believers who have been trained by your mission. When the lessons were over, Father Castanede stopped in the courtyard. Regarding a parish priest, it is quite possible to say this: how much a person is worth, how much a place is worth, he said to the students around him, I tell you, I know a few parishes in the mountains, where the extra income exceeds that of the city. many parish priests.The money is the same, take away fat capons, eggs, fresh cream, and many other odds and ends; welcome,.

No sooner had Father Castanede gone upstairs to his room than the students separated in small groups.Julien was not one of the piles, and they threw him aside like a scabbed sheep.In each pile he saw a student toss a steel plate into the air, and if he guessed heads or tails, his classmates said he would soon be offered some curateship with a lucrative extra pay. Then came the little stories.A young priest, who had just been ordained for a year, gave a domesticated rabbit to the maidservant of an old curate, who asked him to be vicar of the parish. District succeeded the old parish priest, because the old parish priest died soon.Another, who accompanied a paralyzed old parish priest every meal, cut up chicken for him carefully, was finally appointed as the heir to the parish of a large and wealthy town.

Like young men in all professions, seminarians tend to exaggerate the effects of such miraculous little devices that stimulate the imagination. I got to be in these conversations.thought Julien.If they did not talk of sausages and good parishes, they talked of the secular part of the catechism, of the disputes between the bishop and the prefect, between the mayor and the curate.Julien saw the idea of ​​a second God, far more terrible and powerful than another God, who was the Pope.They lowered their voices, and when they were sure M. Pirard could not hear them, said that if the Pope would not take the trouble to appoint all the prefects and mayors of France, it was because he had appointed the King of France as eldest son of the Church, entrusting him to done.

It was about this time that Julien thought it would be possible to make use of De.Meister's Treatise on the Pope to win his respect.He surprised his classmates, but this was another great misfortune.It displeased them that he expressed their opinion better than their own.Mr. Xie Lan did a careless thing to himself.He accustoms him to reason rightly, and not to speak empty words, but forgets to tell him that this habit is a great sin among men who are not highly respected, because any right inference offends. As Julien said well, this was his new crime.His classmates deliberated and finally expressed all the disgust he caused them in one word, and they gave him a nickname: Martin.Luther; they say: especially because of that diabolical logic that made him so proud.

Some of the young monks had fresher complexions and were arguably more handsome than Julien, but he had fair hands, and he could not conceal a certain love of cleanliness.In the dreary school into which fate had thrown him, this virtue was not a virtue.The filthy peasants he lived among spoke openly of his debauchery.We fear that the reader will be weary by describing the misfortunes of our hero.For instance, some of the able-bodied fellows were constantly trying to beat him up; he had to pack a compass and announce that he would use it, but he did so by hand.Gestures carry less weight in a spy's report than words.

Press "Left Key ←" to return to the previous chapter; Press "Right Key →" to enter the next chapter; Press "Space Bar" to scroll down.