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A educação sentimental - Tomo 1
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I. A PROMISING PUPIL
CHAPTER II. DAMON AND PYTHIAS
CHAPTER III. SENTIMENT AND PASSION
CHAPTER IV. THE INEXPRESSIBLE SHE!
CHAPTER V. "LOVE KNOWETH NO LAWS"
CHAPTER VI. BLIGHTED HOPES
CHAPTER VII. CHANGE OF FORTUNE
CHAPTER VIII. FREDERICK ENTERTAINS
CHAPTER IX. THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY
CHAPTER X. AT THE RACES
SENTIMENTAL EDUCATION
CHAPTER I.
A Promising Pupil.
On the 15th of September, 1840, about six o'clock in the morning, the
_Ville de Montereau_, just on the point of starting, was sending forth
great whirlwinds of smoke, in front of the Quai St. Bernard.
People came rushing on board in breathless haste. The traffic was
obstructed by casks, cables, and baskets of linen. The sailors answered
nobody. People jostled one another. Between the two paddle-boxes was
piled up a heap of parcels; and the uproar was drowned in the loud
hissing of the steam, which, making its way through the plates of
sheet-iron, enveloped everything in a white cloud, while the bell at the
prow kept ringing continuously.
At last, the vessel set out; and the two banks of the river, stocked
with warehouses, timber-yards, and manufactories, opened out like two
huge ribbons being unrolled.
A young man of eighteen, with long hair, holding an album under his arm,
remained near the helm without moving. Through the haze he surveyed
steeples, buildings of which he did not know the names; then, with a
parting glance, he took in the Île St. Louis, the Cité, Nôtre Dame; and
presently, as Paris disappeared from his view, he heaved a deep sigh.
Frederick Moreau, having just taken his Bachelor's degree, was returning
home to Nogent-sur-Seine, where he would have to lead a languishing
existence for two months, before going back to begin his legal studies.
His mother had sent him, with enough to cover his expenses, to Havre to
see an uncle, from whom she had expectations of his receiving an
inheritance. He had returned from that place only yesterday; and he
indemnified himself for not having the opportunity of spending a little
time in the capital by taking the longest possible route to reach his
own part of the country.
The hubbub had subsided. The passengers had all taken their places. Some
of them stood warming themselves around the machinery, and the chimney
spat forth with a slow, rhythmic rattle its plume of black smoke. Little
drops of dew trickled over the copper plates; the deck quivered with the
vibration from within; and the two paddle-wheels, rapidly turning round,
lashed the water. The edges of the river were covered with sand. The
vessel swept past rafts of wood which began to oscillate under the
rippling of the waves, or a boat without sails in which a man sat
fishing. Then the wandering haze cleared off; the sun appeared; the hill
which ran along the course of the Seine to the right subsided by
degrees, and another rose nearer on the opposite bank.
It was crowned with trees, which surrounded low-built houses, covered
with roofs in the Italian style. They had sloping gardens divided by
fresh walls, iron railings, grass-plots, hot-houses, and vases of
geraniums, laid out regularly on the terraces where one could lean
forward on one's elbow. More than one spectator longed, on beholding
those attractive residences which looked so peaceful, to be the owner of
one of them, and to dwell there till the end of his days with a good
billiard-table, a sailing-boat, and a woman or some other object to
dream about. The agreeable novelty of a journey by water made such
outbursts natural. Already the wags on board were beginning their jokes.
Many began to sing. Gaiety prevailed, and glasses of brandy were poured
out.
Frederick was thinking about the apartment which he would occupy over
there, on the plan of a drama, on subjects for pictures, on future
passions. He found that the happiness merited by the excellence of his
soul was slow in arriving. He declaimed some melancholy verses. He
walked with rapid step along the deck. He went on till he reached the
end at which the bell was; and, in the centre of a group of passengers
and sailors, he saw a gentleman talking soft nothings to a
country-woman, while fingering the gold cross which she wore over her
breast. He was a jovial blade of forty with frizzled hair. His robust
form was encased in a jacket of black velvet, two emeralds sparkled in
his cambric shirt, and his wide, white trousers fell over odd-looking
red boots of Russian leather set off with blue designs.
CHAPTER I. A PROMISING PUPIL
CHAPTER II. DAMON AND PYTHIAS
CHAPTER III. SENTIMENT AND PASSION
CHAPTER IV. THE INEXPRESSIBLE SHE!
CHAPTER V. "LOVE KNOWETH NO LAWS"
CHAPTER VI. BLIGHTED HOPES
CHAPTER VII. CHANGE OF FORTUNE
CHAPTER VIII. FREDERICK ENTERTAINS
CHAPTER IX. THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY
CHAPTER X. AT THE RACES
SENTIMENTAL EDUCATION
CHAPTER I.
A Promising Pupil.
On the 15th of September, 1840, about six o'clock in the morning, the
_Ville de Montereau_, just on the point of starting, was sending forth
great whirlwinds of smoke, in front of the Quai St. Bernard.
People came rushing on board in breathless haste. The traffic was
obstructed by casks, cables, and baskets of linen. The sailors answered
nobody. People jostled one another. Between the two paddle-boxes was
piled up a heap of parcels; and the uproar was drowned in the loud
hissing of the steam, which, making its way through the plates of
sheet-iron, enveloped everything in a white cloud, while the bell at the
prow kept ringing continuously.
At last, the vessel set out; and the two banks of the river, stocked
with warehouses, timber-yards, and manufactories, opened out like two
huge ribbons being unrolled.
A young man of eighteen, with long hair, holding an album under his arm,
remained near the helm without moving. Through the haze he surveyed
steeples, buildings of which he did not know the names; then, with a
parting glance, he took in the Île St. Louis, the Cité, Nôtre Dame; and
presently, as Paris disappeared from his view, he heaved a deep sigh.
Frederick Moreau, having just taken his Bachelor's degree, was returning
home to Nogent-sur-Seine, where he would have to lead a languishing
existence for two months, before going back to begin his legal studies.
His mother had sent him, with enough to cover his expenses, to Havre to
see an uncle, from whom she had expectations of his receiving an
inheritance. He had returned from that place only yesterday; and he
indemnified himself for not having the opportunity of spending a little
time in the capital by taking the longest possible route to reach his
own part of the country.
The hubbub had subsided. The passengers had all taken their places. Some
of them stood warming themselves around the machinery, and the chimney
spat forth with a slow, rhythmic rattle its plume of black smoke. Little
drops of dew trickled over the copper plates; the deck quivered with the
vibration from within; and the two paddle-wheels, rapidly turning round,
lashed the water. The edges of the river were covered with sand. The
vessel swept past rafts of wood which began to oscillate under the
rippling of the waves, or a boat without sails in which a man sat
fishing. Then the wandering haze cleared off; the sun appeared; the hill
which ran along the course of the Seine to the right subsided by
degrees, and another rose nearer on the opposite bank.
It was crowned with trees, which surrounded low-built houses, covered
with roofs in the Italian style. They had sloping gardens divided by
fresh walls, iron railings, grass-plots, hot-houses, and vases of
geraniums, laid out regularly on the terraces where one could lean
forward on one's elbow. More than one spectator longed, on beholding
those attractive residences which looked so peaceful, to be the owner of
one of them, and to dwell there till the end of his days with a good
billiard-table, a sailing-boat, and a woman or some other object to
dream about. The agreeable novelty of a journey by water made such
outbursts natural. Already the wags on board were beginning their jokes.
Many began to sing. Gaiety prevailed, and glasses of brandy were poured
out.
Frederick was thinking about the apartment which he would occupy over
there, on the plan of a drama, on subjects for pictures, on future
passions. He found that the happiness merited by the excellence of his
soul was slow in arriving. He declaimed some melancholy verses. He
walked with rapid step along the deck. He went on till he reached the
end at which the bell was; and, in the centre of a group of passengers
and sailors, he saw a gentleman talking soft nothings to a
country-woman, while fingering the gold cross which she wore over her
breast. He was a jovial blade of forty with frizzled hair. His robust
form was encased in a jacket of black velvet, two emeralds sparkled in
his cambric shirt, and his wide, white trousers fell over odd-looking
red boots of Russian leather set off with blue designs.
225 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1869
33 people are currently reading
117 people want to read
About the author
Gustave Flaubert
2,231 books3,873 followersGustave Flaubert was a French novelist. He has been considered the leading exponent of literary realism in his country and abroad. According to the literary theorist Kornelije Kvas, "in Flaubert, realism strives for formal perfection, so the presentation of reality tends to be neutral, emphasizing the values and importance of style as an objective method of presenting reality". He is known especially for his debut novel Madame Bovary (1857), his Correspondence, and his scrupulous devotion to his style and aesthetics. The celebrated short story writer Guy de Maupassant was a protégé of Flaubert.
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Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
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September 9, 2018(Update to my update below: Did I really say I’ll “reserve my rating” below until I finish volume 2? Like everyone’s holding their breath. It’s Flo-bear for god’s sake. He’s a genius.)
Original “review”: I lost the thread. I think it's a bad translation or something got garbled in the free Kindle edition: I was enjoying it but about halfway through it got very confusing. Can't keep any of the characters straight. It might not help that I was using it as sleepytime reading, but it was good at making me confusedly sleepy.
UPDATE: I’m done with volume 1, downloaded volume 2. Will reserve rating until finished but I must say I’m enjoying it now. I think I could read (and maybe have read) the ball scene at the Marechale’s house 100 times. I don’t see that getting old. This turns out to be a more modern novel than I thought it would be; the political stuff about the 1848 revolution resonates today. Frederick’s almost insufferable dopeyness keeps making me laugh, because, like, who hasn’t acted like that on occasion? He’s young and real dumb.
Original “review”: I lost the thread. I think it's a bad translation or something got garbled in the free Kindle edition: I was enjoying it but about halfway through it got very confusing. Can't keep any of the characters straight. It might not help that I was using it as sleepytime reading, but it was good at making me confusedly sleepy.
UPDATE: I’m done with volume 1, downloaded volume 2. Will reserve rating until finished but I must say I’m enjoying it now. I think I could read (and maybe have read) the ball scene at the Marechale’s house 100 times. I don’t see that getting old. This turns out to be a more modern novel than I thought it would be; the political stuff about the 1848 revolution resonates today. Frederick’s almost insufferable dopeyness keeps making me laugh, because, like, who hasn’t acted like that on occasion? He’s young and real dumb.
April 2, 2020
Lettura relativamente leggera, ma davvero poco interessante.
Il protagonista è un giovane nobile francese, che seguiamo nelle sue vicende amorose e disavventure finanziarie, nessuna delle quali riesce ad essere particolarmente coinvolgente.
Pur essendo considerato uno dei capisaldi del romanzo di formazione, molto deludente.
Il protagonista è un giovane nobile francese, che seguiamo nelle sue vicende amorose e disavventure finanziarie, nessuna delle quali riesce ad essere particolarmente coinvolgente.
Pur essendo considerato uno dei capisaldi del romanzo di formazione, molto deludente.
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews