feat_summary_path: finished_summaries/shmoop/The Red and the Black/section_51_part_0.txt
feat_book_id: The Red and the Black.part 2.chapter 22
feat_summary_id: part 2, chapter 22
feat_summary: {"name": "Part 2, Chapter 22", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20200920104425/https://www.shmoop.com/study-guides/literature/red-and-the-black/summary/part-2-chapter-22", "summary": "At the secret political meeting, a servant runs in and announces the arrival of an important Duke. The Duke tells him to be quiet before the guy can even finish, though. The marquis introduces the man to Julien. He mentions that Julien has an incredible memory. The man quizzes Julien on the content of that day's newspaper, and Julien has it all by heart. Julien is sent into the next room for a while, then called back. The men start talking all about what France needs and how they're going to achieve it. By the time he's done, Julien has twenty-six pages of notes. Despite his best intentions, the narrator decides to include some excerpts from these notes. There's some talk of an assassination in France, of a revolution, of an invasion by a foreign country... everyone just sounds like a big blowhard, though. In the end, Julien is asked to memorize the letter and deliver it's message to a certain Duke living outside of France.", "analysis": ""}
text: CHAPTER LII
  
  THE DISCUSSION
  
  
          The republic:--For one man to day who will sacrifice
          everything for the public welfare, there are thousands
          and millions who think of nothing except their
          enjoyments and their vanity. One is requested in Paris
          by reason of the qualities not of one's self but of
          one's carriage.
                                          --NAPOLEON, Memorial.
  
  
  The footman rushed in saying "Monsieur the duke de ----"
  
  "Hold your tongue, you are just a fool," said the duke as he entered.
  He spoke these words so well, and with so much majesty, that Julien
  could not help thinking this great person's accomplishments were
  limited to the science of snubbing a lackey. Julien raised his
  eyes and immediately lowered them. He had so fully appreciated the
  significance of the new arrival that he feared that his look might be
  an indiscretion.
  
  The duke was a man of fifty dressed like a dandy and with a jerky
  walk. He had a narrow head with a large nose and a face that jutted
  forward; it would have been difficult to have looked at the same time
  more insignificant. His arrival was the signal for the opening of the
  meeting.
  
  Julien was sharply interrupted in his physiognomical observations by
  de la Mole's voice. "I present to you M. the abbe Sorel," said the
  Marquis. "He is gifted with an astonishing memory; it is scarcely an
  hour ago since I spoke to him of the mission by which he might be
  honoured, and he has learned the first page of the _Quotidienne_ by
  heart in order to give proof of his memory."
  
  "Ah! foreign news of that poor N--" said the master of the house. He
  took up the paper eagerly and looked at Julien in a manner rendered
  humorous by its own self-importance. "Speak, monsieur," he said to him.
  
  The silence was profound, all eyes were fixed on Julien. He recited
  so well that the duke said at the end of twenty lines, "That is
  enough." The little man who looked like a boar sat down. He was the
  president, for he had scarcely taken his place before he showed Julien
  a card-table and signed to him to bring it near him. Julien established
  himself at it with writing materials. He counted twelve persons seated
  round the green table cloth.
  
  "M. Sorel," said the Duke, "retire into next room, you will be called."
  
  The master of the house began to look very anxious. "The shutters
  are not shut," he said to his neighbour in a semi-whisper. "It is no
  good looking out of the window," he stupidly cried to Julien--"so
  here I am more or less mixed up in a conspiracy," thought the latter.
  "Fortunately it is not one of those which lead to the Place-de-Greve.
  Even though there were danger, I owe this and even more to the marquis,
  and should be glad to be given the chance of making up for all the
  sorrow which my madness may one day occasion him."
  
  While thinking of his own madness and his own unhappiness he regarded
  the place where he was, in such a way as to imprint it upon his memory
  for ever. He then remembered for the first time that he had never heard
  the lackey tell the name of the street, and that the marquis had taken
  a fiacre which he never did in the ordinary way. Julien was left to
  his own reflections for a long time. He was in a salon upholstered in
  red velvet with large pieces of gold lace. A large ivory crucifix was
  on the console-table and a gilt-edged, magnificently bound copy of M.
  de Maistre's book _The Pope_ was on the mantelpiece. Julien opened it
  so as not to appear to be eavesdropping. From time to time they talked
  loudly in the next room. At last the door was opened and he was called
  in.
  
  "Remember, gentlemen," the president was saying "that from this moment
  we are talking in the presence of the duke of ----. This gentleman,"
  he said, pointing to Julien, "is a young acolyte devoted to our sacred
  cause who by the aid of his marvellous memory will repeat quite easily
  our very slightest words."
  
  "It is your turn to speak, Monsieur," he said pointing to the paternal
  looking personage who wore three or four waistcoats. Julien thought it
  would have been more natural to have called him the gentleman in the
  waistcoats. He took some paper and wrote a great deal.
  
  (At this juncture the author would have liked to have put a page of
  dots. "That," said his publisher, "would be clumsy and in the case of
  so light a work clumsiness is death."
  
  "Politics," replies the author, "is a stone tied round the neck of
  literature which submerges it in less than six months. Politics in the
  midst of imaginative matter is like a pistol shot in the middle of a
  concert. The noise is racking without being energetic. It does not
  harmonise with the sound of any instrument. These politics will give
  mortal offence to one half of the readers and will bore the other half,
  who will have already read the ideas in question as set out in the
  morning paper in its own drastic manner."
  
  "If your characters don't talk politics," replied the publisher, "they
  cease to be Frenchmen of 1830, and your book is no longer a mirror as
  you claim?")
  
  Julien's record ran to twenty-six pages. Here is a very diluted
  extract, for it has been necessary to adopt the invariable practice of
  suppressing those ludicrous passages, whose violence would have seemed
  either offensive or intolerable (see the _Gazette des Tribunaux_).
  
  The man with the waistcoats and the paternal expression (he was perhaps
  a bishop) often smiled and then his eyes, which were surrounded with
  a floating forest of eyebrows, assumed a singular brilliance and an
  unusually decided expression. This personage whom they made speak first
  before the duke ("but what duke is it?" thought Julien to himself) with
  the apparent object of expounding various points of view and fulfilling
  the functions of an advocate-general, appeared to Julien to fall into
  the uncertainty and lack of definiteness with which those officials
  are so often taxed. During the course of the discussion the duke went
  so far as to reproach him on this score. After several sentences of
  morality and indulgent philosophy the man in the waistcoats said,
  
  "Noble England, under the guiding hand of a great man, the immortal
  Pitt, has spent forty milliards of francs in opposing the revolution.
  If this meeting will allow me to treat so melancholy a subject with
  some frankness, England fails to realise sufficiently that in dealing
  with a man like Buonaparte, especially when they have nothing to
  oppose him with, except a bundle of good intentions there is nothing
  decisive except personal methods."
  
  "Ah! praising assassination again!" said the master of the house
  anxiously.
  
  "Spare us your sentimental sermons," cried the president angrily. His
  boarlike eye shone with a savage brilliance. "Go on," he said to the
  man with the waistcoats. The cheeks and the forehead of the president
  became purple.
  
  "Noble England," replied the advocate-general, "is crushed to-day:
  for each Englishman before paying for his own bread is obliged to pay
  the interest on forty milliards of francs which were used against the
  Jacobins. She has no more Pitt."
  
  "She has the Duke of Wellington," said a military personage looking
  very important.
  
  "Please, gentlemen, silence," exclaimed the president. "If we are still
  going to dispute, there was no point in having M. Sorel in."
  
  "We know that monsieur has many ideas," said the duke irritably,
  looking at the interrupter who was an old Napoleonic general. Julien
  saw that these words contained some personal and very offensive
  allusion. Everybody smiled, the turncoat general appeared beside
  himself with rage.
  
  "There is no longer a Pitt, gentlemen," went on the speaker with all
  the despondency of a man who has given up all hope of bringing his
  listeners to reason. "If there were a new Pitt in England, you would
  not dupe a nation twice over by the same means."
  
  "That's why a victorious general, a Buonaparte, will be henceforward
  impossible in France," exclaimed the military interrupter.
  
  On this occasion neither the president nor the duke ventured to get
  angry, though Julien thought he read in their eyes that they would
  very much like to have done so. They lowered their eyes, and the duke
  contented himself with sighing in quite an audible manner. But the
  speaker was put upon his mettle.
  
  "My audience is eager for me to finish," he said vigorously, completely
  discarding that smiling politeness and that balanced diction that
  Julien thought had expressed his character so well. "It is eager for
  me to finish, it is not grateful to me for the efforts I am making to
  offend nobody's ears, however long they may be. Well, gentlemen, I will
  be brief.
  
  "I will tell you in quite common words: England has not got a sou with
  which to help the good cause. If Pitt himself were to come back he
  would never succeed with all his genius in duping the small English
  landowners, for they know that the short Waterloo campaign alone cost
  them a milliard of francs. As you like clear phrases," continued the
  speaker, becoming more and more animated, "I will say this to you: Help
  yourselves, for England has not got a guinea left to help you with,
  and when England does not pay, Austria, Russia and Prussia--who will
  only have courage but have no money--cannot launch more than one or two
  campaigns against France.
  
  "One may hope that the young soldiers who will be recruited by the
  Jacobins will be beaten in the first campaign, and possibly in the
  second; but, even though I seem a revolutionary in your prejudiced
  eyes, in the third campaign--in the third campaign I say--you will have
  the soldiers of 1794 who were no longer the soldiers enlisted in 1792."
  
  At this point interruption broke out simultaneously from three or four
  quarters.
  
  "Monsieur," said the president to Julien, "Go and make a precis in the
  next room of the beginning of the report which you have written out."
  
  Julien went out to his great regret. The speaker was just dealing
  with the question of probabilities which formed the usual subject
  for his meditations. "They are frightened of my making fun of them,"
  he thought. When he was called back, M. de la Mole was saying with a
  seriousness which seemed quite humorous to Julien who knew him so well,
  
  "Yes, gentlemen, one finds the phrase, 'is it god, table or tub?'
  especially applicable to this unhappy people. '_It is god_' exclaims
  the writer of fables. It is to you, gentlemen, that this noble and
  profound phrase seems to apply. Act on your own initiative, and noble
  France will appear again, almost such as our ancestors made her, and as
  our own eyes have seen her before the death of Louis XVI.
  
  "England execrates disgraceful Jacobinism as much as we do, or at any
  rate her noble lords do. Without English gold, Austria and Prussia
  would only be able to give battle two or three times. Would that be
  sufficient to ensure a successful occupation like the one which M. de
  Richelieu so foolishly failed to exploit in 1817? I do not think so."
  
  At this point there was an interruption which was stifled by the hushes
  of the whole room. It came again from the old Imperial general who
  wanted the blue ribbon and wished to figure among the authors of the
  secret note.
  
  "I do not think so," replied M. de la Mole, after the uproar had
  subsided. He laid stress on the "I" with an insolence which charmed
  Julien.
  
  "That's a pretty piece of acting," he said to himself, as he made his
  pen almost keep pace with the marquis' words.
  
  M. de la Mole annihilated the twenty campaigns of the turncoat with a
  well turned phrase.
  
  "It is not only on foreign powers," continued the marquis in a more
  even tone, "on whom we shall be able to rely for a new military
  occupation. All those young men who write inflammatory articles
  in the _Globe_ will provide you with three or four thousand young
  captains among whom you may find men with the genius, but not the good
  intentions of a Kleber, a Hoche, a Jourdan, a Pichegru."
  
  "We did not know how to glorify him," said the president. "He should
  have been immortalized."
  
  "Finally, it is necessary for France to have two parties," went on M.
  de la Mole; "but two parties not merely in name, but with clear-cut
  lines of cleavage. Let us realise what has got to be crushed. On
  the one hand the journalists and the electors, in a word, public
  opinion; youth and all that admire it. While it is stupefying itself
  with the noise of its own vain words, we have certain advantages of
  administrating the expenditure of the budget."
  
  At this point there was another interruption.
  
  "As for you, monsieur," said M. de la Mole to the interrupter, with an
  admirable haughtiness and ease of manner, "you do not spend, if the
  words chokes you, but you devour the forty thousand francs put down to
  you in the State budget, and the eighty thousand which you receive from
  the civil list."
  
  "Well, monsieur, since you force me to it, I will be bold enough to
  take you for an example. Like your noble ancestors, who followed Saint
  Louis to the crusade, you ought in return for those hundred and twenty
  thousand francs to show us at any rate a regiment; a company, why, what
  am I saying? say half a company, even if it only had fifty men, ready
  to fight and devoted to the good cause to the point of risking their
  lives in its service. You have nothing but lackeys, who in the event of
  a rebellion would frighten you yourselves."
  
  "Throne, Church, Nobility are liable to perish to-morrow, gentlemen,
  so long as you refrain from creating in each department a force of
  five hundred devoted men, devoted I mean, not only with all the French
  courage, but with all the Spanish constancy.
  
  "Half of this force ought to be composed of our children, our nephews,
  of real gentlemen, in fact. Each of them will have beside him not a
  little talkative bourgeois ready to hoist the tricolor cockade, if 1815
  turns up again, but a good, frank and simple peasant like Cathelineau.
  Our gentleman will have educated him, it will be his own foster brother
  if it is possible. Let each of us sacrifice the fifth of his income in
  order to form this little devoted force of five hundred men in each
  department. Then you will be able to reckon on a foreign occupation.
  The foreign soldier will never penetrate even as far as Dijon if he
  is not certain of finding five hundred friendly soldiers in each
  department.
  
  "The foreign kings will only listen to you when you are in a position
  to announce to them that you have twenty thousand gentlemen ready to
  take up arms in order to open to them the gates of France. The service
  is troublesome, you say. Gentlemen, it is the only way of saving our
  lives. There is war to the death between the liberty of the press and
  our existence as gentlemen. Become manufacturers, become peasants, or
  take up your guns. Be timid if you like, but do not be stupid. Open
  your eyes.
  
  "'_Form your battalions_,' I would say to you in the words of the
  Jacobin songs. Some noble Gustavus Adolphus will then be found who,
  touched by the imminent peril of the monarchical principle, will make
  a dash three hundred leagues from his own country, and will do for
  you what Gustavus did for the Protestant princes. Do you want to go
  on talking without acting? In fifty years' time there will be only
  presidents or republics in Europe and not one king, and with those
  three letters R. O. I. you will see the last of the priests and the
  gentlemen. I can see nothing but candidates paying court to squalid
  majorities.
  
  "It is no use your saying that at the present time France has not
  a single accredited general who is universally known and loved,
  that the army is only known and organised in the interests of the
  throne and the church, and that it has been deprived of all its old
  troopers, while each of the Prussian and Austrian regiments count fifty
  non-commissioned officers who have seen fire.
  
  "Two hundred thousand young men of the middle classes are spoiling for
  war--"
  
  "A truce to disagreeable truths," said a grave personage in a pompous
  tone. He was apparently a very high ecclesiastical dignitary, for M.
  de la Mole smiled pleasantly, instead of getting angry, a circumstance
  which greatly impressed Julien.
  
  "A truce to unpleasant truths, let us resume, gentlemen. The man who
  needs to have a gangrened leg cut off would be ill advised to say to
  his surgeon, 'this disease is very healthy.' If I may use the metaphor,
  gentlemen, the noble duke of ---- is our surgeon."
  
  "So the great words have at last been uttered," thought Julien. "It is
  towards the ---- that I shall gallop to-night."
  
  
  
  
  
  
feat_summary_name: Part 2, Chapter 22
target: At the secret political meeting, a servant runs in and announces the arrival of an important Duke. The Duke tells him to be quiet before the guy can even finish, though. The marquis introduces the man to Julien. He mentions that Julien has an incredible memory. The man quizzes Julien on the content of that day's newspaper, and Julien has it all by heart. Julien is sent into the next room for a while, then called back. The men start talking all about what France needs and how they're going to achieve it. By the time he's done, Julien has twenty-six pages of notes. Despite his best intentions, the narrator decides to include some excerpts from these notes. There's some talk of an assassination in France, of a revolution, of an invasion by a foreign country... everyone just sounds like a big blowhard, though. In the end, Julien is asked to memorize the letter and deliver it's message to a certain Duke living outside of France.