Julien covered himself with glory one day in the Salon of the Duke of Fitz-Folke who had invited him to dinner together with the Prince Korasoff. They waited for an hour. The way in which Julien conducted himself in the middle of twenty people who were waiting is still quoted as a precedent among the young secretaries of the London Embassy. His demeanour was unimpeachable.
In spite of his friends, the dandies, he made a point of seeing the celebrated Philip Vane, the one philosopher that England has had since Locke. He found him finishing his seventh year in prison. The aristocracy doesn’t joke in this country, thought Julien. Moreover Vane is disgraced, calumniated, etc.
Julien found him in cheery spirits. The rage of the aristocracy prevented him from being bored. “There’s the only merry man I’ve seen in England,” thought Julien to himself, as he left the prison.
“The idea which tyrants find most useful is the idea of God,” Vane had said to him.
We suppress the rest of the system as being cynical.
“What amusing notion do you bring me from England?” said M. la Mole to him on his return. He was silent. “What notion do you bring me, amusing or otherwise?” repeated the marquis sharply.
“In the first place,” said Julien, “The sanest Englishman is mad one hour every day. He is visited by the Demon of Suicide who is the local God.
“In the second place, intellect and genius lose twenty-five per cent. of their value when they disembark in England.
“In the third place, nothing in the world is so beautiful, so admirable, so touching, as the English landscapes.”
“Now it is my turn,” said the marquis.