The Red and the Black (75 page)

'remember never to utter this abominable lie again.' The cautious
barrister feared for a moment that he was going to be murdered.

He was preparing his speech, because the day of decision was rapidly
approaching. Besançon and the whole département talked of nothing but
this cause
célèbre
. Julien was unaware of this detail; he had requested that no one should ever mention this sort of thing to him.

That day, when Fouqué and Mathilde had wanted to inform him of
certain public rumours of a kind, so they thought, to give rise to
hope, Julien had cut them short at the very first mention.

'Leave me with my life of the imagination. Your petty pestering, your
details of real life, which all upset me to some degree, would drag
me down from heaven. Each person dies as best he may; my wish is not
to think of death except in my own way. What do I care about
other people
? My ties with
other people
are going to be abruptly severed. For pity's sake, don't talk to me
about any of them' any more: it's quite enough to see the judge and
the barrister.'

In fact, he said to
himself, it seems that my destiny is to die dreaming. A nonentity like
myself, who is sure to be forgotten in a fortnight's time, would be a
real sucker, you have to admit, to get all theatrical...

It's strange all the same that I've only understood the art of enjoying life since seeing the end so close at hand.

He spent these final days walking about on the narrow terrace at the
top of the tower, smoking some excellent cigars that Mathilde had had
brought over from Holland by courier, and quite unaware that his
appearance was awaited every day by all the telescopes in town. His
thoughts were in Vergy. He never spoke of M
^me
de Rênal to
Fouqué, but on two or three occasions his friend told him that she was
making a rapid recovery, and this comment reverberated in his heart.

While Julien's spirit was almost always wholly in the realm of ideas,
Mathilde, concerned with reality as befits an aristocratic temperament,
had succeeded in bringing about such a degree of intimacy in the
direct correspondence between Mme

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de Fervaques and M. de Frilair that by this time the great word
bishopric
had already been uttered.

The venerable prelate in charge of the list of benefices added as a postscript to one of his niece's letters:
This poor fellow Sorel is just a scatterbrain, I hope he will be restored to us
.

At the sight of these lines M. de Frilair went almost wild with delight. He did not doubt he could save Julien.

'Were it not for this Jacobin law
^*
which stipulates that an interminable list of jurors be drawn up, and
has no other real purpose than to remove all influence from people of
good birth,' he said to Mathilde the day before the thirty-six jurors
were to be drawn by lot for the assizes, 'I should have answered
for the
verdict
. Didn't I get Father N acquired...'

It was a pleasure the next day for M. de Frilair to discover among
the names that had come out of the urn five Congregationists from
Besançon, and among the strangers to the town the names of M. Valenod,
M. de Moirod and M. de Cholin. 'I can answer first of all for these
eight jurors here,' he told Mathilde. The first five are
machines
. Valenod is my agent, Moirod owes everything to me, and de Cholin is an idiot who's afraid of everything.'

The newspaper broadcast the names of the jurors throughout the département, and M
^me
de Rênal, to the unutterable horror of her husband, determined to go
to Besançon. The most that M. de Rênal could obtain was that she would
not leave her bed, so as to avoid the unpleasantness of being called
as a witness.

'You do not understand my position,' said the former mayor of Verrrières, 'I am now a liberal by
defection
,
^*
as they say; there's no doubting that that rascal Valenod and M, de
Frilair will easily obtain from the public prosecutor and the judges
everything that can possibly be disagreeable for me.'

M
^me
de Rênal gave in readily to her husband's orders. If I made an
appearance at the assize court, she said to herself, I'd look as if I
were seeking vengeance.

Despite all
the promises of caution which she had given her confessor and her
husband, no sooner had she set foot in Besançon that she wrote in her
own hand to each one of the thirty-six jurors:

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I shall not appear on the day of the trial, sir, because my presence
might be prejudicial to M. Sorel's case. My one desire in the world,
and it is passionately held, is that he should be saved. Be in no doubt
about it, the appalling idea that on my account an innocent man had
been put to death would poison the rest of my life and probably
shorten it. How could you condemn him to death while
I
am alive?
No, society probably does not have the right to take life, especially
not the life of a person like Julien Sorel. Everyone in Verrières has
witnessed his moments of derangement. This poor young man has
powerful enemies; but, even among his enemies (and how numerous they
are!), who would cast any doubt on his admirable talents and his
profound learning? This is no ordinary citizen that you are about to
judge, sir. For almost eighteen months we all knew him as pious,
dutiful and conscientious; but two or three times a year he was seized
by fits of melancholy which bordered on derangement. The entire town
of Verrivres, all our neighbours at Vergy where we spend the summer
season, my whole family, and the esteemed sub-prefect himself will
bear witness to his exemplary piety; he knows the entire Holy Bible by
heart. Would an ungodly person have applied himself for years to
learning the holy book? My sons will have the honour of handing you
this letter: they are children. Deign to question them, sir; they will
supply you in regard to this poor young man with all the details that
might still be necessary to convince you of how barbarous it would be
to condemn him. Far indeed from avenging me, you would deal me a
death blow.

What will his enemies be
able to say to counter this fact? The wound that resulted from one of
those moments of folly that even my children observed in their tutor
is so minor that after less than two months it has allowed me to
travel by post horses from Verrières to Besançon. If I learn, sir,
that you have even the slightest hesitation about rescuing from the
barbarity of the law a person who is so little guilty, I shall rise
from my bed, where I am confined solely by my husband's orders, and I
shall go and fling myself at your feet.

Declare, sir, that the premeditation is not established, and you will
not have to reproach yourself with the blood of an innocent man, etc.,
etc.

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The country will remember this famous case for a long time to come.
Concern for the accused reached an extraordinary level: the reason
being that his crime was astonishing and yet not appalling. Even had
it been, this young man was so handsome! His great destiny, so soon
ended, heightened the sympathy. Will they condemn him? The women
asked the men of their acquaintance, and they were seen to turn pale
as they waited for the reply.

SAINTE-BEUVE

AT last came the day so dreaded by M
^me
de Rênal and Mathilde.

The unaccustomed appearance of the town increased their terror, and
did not fail to shake even Fouqué's stalwart nerves. The whole
province had flocked to Besançon to see this romantic case tried.

For several days there had been no more room in the inns. The
presiding judge was overwhelmed with requests for tickets for the
assizes; all the ladies of the town wanted to watch the trial;
Julien's portrait was hawked in the streets, etc. etc.

Mathilde was holding in reserve for this supreme moment a letter
written from start to finish in the hand of Monsignor the Bishop of
-----. This prelate, who was the head of the Church in France and
appointed bishops, deigned to ask for Julien's acquittal. On the eve
of the trial, Mathilde took this letter to the all-powerful
vicar-general.

At the end of the
meeting, as she broke into tears on taking her leave: 'I shall answer
for the jury's verdict,' M. de Frilair told her, finally abandoning
his diplomatic reserve, and close to being moved himself. 'Among the
twelve individuals instructed to examine whether your protégé's crime
is established, and above all whether there was any premeditation, I
can count on six friends who have my personal interests at

-497-

heart, and I have given them to understand that my promotion to a
bishopric depends on them. Baron Valenod, whom I have made mayor of
Verrières, can answer fully for two of his subordinates, M. de Moirod
and M. Cholin. In all truth Fate has given us two most unsound jurors
to try this case; but although ultra-liberals, they are faithful to my
orders on important occasions, and they have been asked on my behalf
to vote with M. Valenod. I have discovered that a sixth juror, an
immensely rich manufacturer and a liberal prattler, is secretly after a
contract from the Ministry of War, and no doubt he would not wish to
displease me. I have had him informed that M. de Valenod has my final
word.'

'And what sort of man is this M. Valenod?' asked Mathilde uneasily.

'If you knew him you could have no doubts about a successful outcome.
He's a bold, impudent and vulgar talker, made to be a leader of
fools. The events of 1814
^*
wrested him from destitution, and I shall make a prefect of him. He's
capable of thrashing the other jurors if they won't vote his way.'

Mathilde was somewhat reassured.

Another discussion awaited her in the course of the evening. To avoid
prolonging a disagreeable scene which in his view could only have one
outcome, Julien was determined not to make a speech.

'My counsel will speak, that's quite sufficient,' he said to
Mathilde. 'I'll be held up as a spectacle to all my enemies for long
enough as it is. These provincials have been scandalized by the rapid
rise to fortune I owe to you, and believe you me, there isn't a single
one of them who doesn't wish to see me sentenced, but will feel free
to blub like a baby when I'm led off to execution.'

'They wish to see you humiliated, that's only too true,' replied
Mathilde, 'but I don't believe them to be cruel. My presence in
Besançon and the sight of my grief has aroused the interest of all the
women; your handsome face will do the rest. If you say a word in the
presence of your judges, the whole of the public gallery will be on
your side,' etc. etc.

At nine o'clock the next day, when Julien came down from

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his prison to go to the great hall in the law courts, the police had
considerable difficulty in pushing aside the enormous crowd thronging
the courtyard. Julien had slept well, he was extremely calm, and his
only feeling was one of philosophical pity for this crowd of envious
souls who, without any cruelty, were going to applaud his death
sentence. He was very surprised when, after spending over a quarter of
an hour trapped in the midst of the throng, he was obliged to
recognize that his presence inspired a feeling of tender pity in the
crowd. He did not hear a single unpleasant remark. These provincials
are less nasty than I thought, he said to himself.

On entering the courtroom he was struck by the elegance of the
architecture. It was in pure gothic style, with a host of pretty
little columns carved into the stone with the utmost skill. He
imagined himself in England.

But soon
his whole attention was taken up by a dozen or even fifteen pretty
women filling the three galleries above the judges and the jury, right
opposite the dock. On turning round to face the public, he saw that
the circular gallery overlooking the amphitheatre was filled with
women: most of them were young, and struck him as very pretty; their
glistening eyes were full of concern. The crowd in the rest of the
courtroom was immense; people were fighting at the doors, and the
sentries were unable to impose silence.

When all the eyes that were looking for Julien noticed his presence
as he took up his place on the slightly raised bench reserved for the
accused, he was greeted by a murmur of astonishment and tender
concern.

You wouldn't have thought
him more than twenty that day; he was dressed very simply but with
perfect elegance; the arrangement of his hair round his forehead was
most fetching; Mathilde had insisted on seeing to his appearance
herself. Julien's pallor was extreme. He had hardly sat down in the
dock before he heard people saying all around him: 'Goodness! how
young he is!... But he's only a boy... He looks far nicer than his
portrait.'

'Accused,' said the
officer sitting on his right, 'can you see those six ladies sitting up
in that gallery?' He pointed to a little gallery projecting over the
part of the amphitheatre where the

-499-

jury sit. 'That's the prefect's wife,' the officer went on, 'next to
her is the Marquise de M-----, she's a good friend to you, I heard her
talking to the examining magistrate. Next along is M
^me
Derville...'

'M
^me
Derville!' exclaimed Julien, and his brow flushed deeply. On leaving here, he thought, she'll write to M
^me
de Rênal. He was unaware of M
^me
de Rênal's arrival in Besançon.

The witnesses were very soon heard. At the first word of the charge
read out by the assistant public prosecutor, two of the ladies sitting
in the small gallery right opposite Julien burst into tears. You
don't find M
^me
Derville getting emotional like that, Julien thought. He noticed however that her face was very red.

The assistant public prosecutor was indulging in pathos in bad French
^*
on the barbarity of the crime that had been committed; Julien observed that M
^me
Derville's neighbours looked strongly disapproving. Several members
of the jury, apparently known to these ladies, were speaking to them
and seemed to be reassuring them. This must be a good sign, Julien
thought.

Up until then he had felt
himself imbued with unmitigated scorn for all the men present at the
trial. The assistant public prosecutor's insipid rhetoric heightened
this feeling of disgust. But gradually Julien's emotional coldness
vanished in the face of the obvious signs of interest which he
aroused.

He was pleased with his
counsel's resolute expression. 'No fine words,' he said to him under
his breath as he was about to begin speaking.

'All the bombast stolen from Bossuet that was wheeled out to attack
you has worked in your favour,' said the barrister. Indeed, he had
hardly been speaking for five minutes before almost all the women had
their handkerchiefs in their hands. Encouraged by this, the counsel
directed some extremely powerful words to the jury. Julien trembled;
he felt himself on the verge of tears. Good God! what will my enemies
say?

He was about to give in to the
emotion overwhelming him, when fortunately for him he caught an
insolent glance from Baron de Valenod.

That pompous underling has a glint in his eye, he said to

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