Friday, February 3, 2017

The Red and the Black, by Stendhal



Marie-Henri Beyle is the author’s real name.  According to the foreword, Stendhal was one of more than two hundred pseudonyms he used during his writing life. He served in Napoleon’s army, wrote travelogues, biographies, novels, perhaps even some plays, lived many years in Italy, and died in Paris in 1842.

The book is subtitled “A Chronicle of 1830” which was the year it was published.  It’s a fairly long book, just shy of 500 pages, and they are not small pages.  I would imagine it took several years to compose so the work must have been done in the 1820s, perhaps the latter part of the decade, some 10 years after Napoleon’s final banishment to Elba, perhaps five years after his death there.  This was the time of the restoration of the monarchy, and strict division of society into classes.  

Stendhal detested social pretension and such is apparent in this book, which traces the rise of a poor carpenter’s son, Julien Sorel, to the finest salons of Paris.  Julien is handsome, smart, possessing an impressive ability to memorize, and above all, ambitious.  In Julien's youth a retired surgeon had lived in the household and taught him Latin.  It is this learning that lands him a position of tutor in the finest household in the little provincial town.  Julien also lets it be known that he aims to join the clergy, a creditworthy aim for a young man who can read Latin.  In truth Julien has no religious faith; he is a hypocrite. However, he is honest with himself about his hypocrisy, and acknowledges to himself that it is just a device to serve his social ambition.  

Stendhal mocks the pretensions of the well heeled, as well as the sly obsequiousness of peasants.  When the small town mayor is speaking to Julien’s father, proposing to take the young man in as a tutor, the father “...listened with that air of downcast discontent, and absolutely no interest, which the shrewd inhabitants of these mountains understood only too well how to drape over themselves.”  Later, the mayor’s wife, when suggesting that one of her servants may have knowledge relevant to some intrigue, complains to her husband, “It costs us twenty francs for every one of the servants, to keep them from cutting our throats, some fine day.”  

Eventually Julien is tried and punished for an attempted murder.  At his trial he rises to speak, saying that the jury wishes “...to discourage forever all young people born into an inferior class, and in one way or another oppressed by poverty, who wish for themselves the happiness of a good education, young people who might have the audacity to mingle among those who are labeled, by the arrogance of the rich, ‘society.’”  He adds, “I do not see, on these jury benches, a single wealthy peasant, but only the angry and indignant bourgeoisie.”  

The novel has a lot to say about French society and the politics of the day, much of which is relevant in any place, any age.  In a secret meeting of aristocrats, a Marquis forcefully addresses the gathering with, “France must have two parties, not only in name but two clearly defined parties, distinct and separate.  We need to be aware of who and what must be crushed.  On the one hand journalists, voters, public opinion--in short, youth and all who admire it.  While they stupefy themselves with the noise of their empty words, we--we have the clear advantage of consuming the budget.”


Though it’s not what I would call an easy read, the novel’s universality gives it lasting value.  It’s worth a read for anyone particularly interested in the French Revolution, the Napoleonic era, and the accompanying turmoil in French society.  Relevant reviews on this blog include Napoleon Symphony, Eugenie Grandet, and Madame Bovary.

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