Pride

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

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• From Unbought and Unbossed: Transgressive Black Women, Sexuality, and Representation (2014)

  Sula, in 1927 and thereafter, practically does just this. In addition to leaving Medallion (instead of settling down and marrying like other Bottom women), she returns from college refusing to use her education in the interest of the community and in the service or uplift of the race. Moreover, she travels intranationally, a luxury unavailable to most black women (save blues singers), demonstrating her uncategorically autonomous lifestyle. Her existence, simply put, is not coterminous with boundaries for women or self-abnegation for anyone or anything: men or race. While Sula's behavior during the 192os dialogizes larger sociopolitical and racial discourses of that era, she-as a character of a novel produced during a later historical and sociopolitical juncturealso offers provocative commentary on discourses and concerns contemporaneous with the post-civil rights, black feminist era in which Morrison's book was published. In the same year that Sula was published, 1973, the National Black Feminist Organization was founded in the spirit of challenging the racism and elitism of the women's movement, as well as politics that privileged masculine authority, patriarchy, and sexism that marginalized black women and their exigencies within the struggle for liberation. As the Combahee River Collective, an organization of black feminists and lesbians founded the year after Sula appeared in print, asserts, their politics embrace black and women's liberation, and are defined by a consciousness and feminism they utilized as "political analysis and practice" to struggle against oppression.27 While predating the collective's "A Black Feminist Statement" (1978), Sula personifies the idea, one of its central premises, that black women's liberation is essential, "a necessity not as an adjunct to somebody else's" but, rather, as indicative of their "need as human persons for autonomy."28 Similarly, as Morrison herself writes in her 1971 manifesto "What the Black Woman Thinks about Women's Lib," in light of the plethora of duties and responsibilities of black womanhood, black women "had nothing to fall back on""not maleness, not whiteness, not ladyhood, not anything"-and out of the profound desolation of her reality," the black woman may "very well have invented herself."29 Sula embodies these collective philosophies and feminist ideologies in her nonconformity to convention or the status quo that would relegate her, as black and a woman, to a marginal or adjunct status. And, it is with that same sensibility, as the narratorial consciousness asserts, that she-upon recognition that she was neither white nor male-created "something else," an alternative, by which to exist. "And [...] She Became Dangerous": Sula's Subversive and Transgressive (Adult) Behavior

• From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)

  § 91. The Epistles to the Galatians. Comp. the introduction to my Com. on Gal. (1882). Galatians and Romans discuss the doctrines of sin and redemption, and the relation of the law and the gospel. They teach salvation by free grace and justification by faith, Christian universalism in opposition to Jewish particularism, evangelical freedom versus legalistic bondage. But Galatians is a rapid sketch and the child of deep emotion, Romans an elaborate treatise and the mature product of calm reflexion. The former Epistle is polemical against foreign intruders and seducers, the latter is irenical and composed in a serene frame of mind. The one rushes along like a mountain torrent and foaming cataract, the other flows like a majestic river through a boundless prairie; and yet it is the same river, like the Nile at the Rapids and below Cairo, or the Rhine in the Grisons and the lowlands of Germany and Holland, or the St. Lawrence at Niagara Falls and below Montreal and Quebec where it majestically branches out into the ocean. It is a remarkable fact that the two races represented by the readers of these Epistles—the Celtic and the Latin—have far departed from the doctrines taught in them and exchanged the gospel freedom for legal bondage; thus repeating the apostasy of the sanguine, generous, impressible, mercurial, fickle-minded Galatians. The Pauline gospel was for centuries ignored, misunderstood, and (in spite of St. Augustin) cast out at last by Rome, as Christianity itself was cast out by Jerusalem of old. But the overruling wisdom of God made the rule of the papacy a training-school of the Teutonic races of the North and West for freedom; as it had turned the unbelief of the Jews to the conversion of the Gentiles. Those Epistles, more than any book of the New Testament, inspired the Reformation of the Sixteenth century, and are to this day the Gibraltar of evangelical Protestantism. Luther, under a secondary inspiration, reproduced Galatians in his war against the "Babylonian captivity of the church;" the battle for Christian freedom was won once more, and its fruits are enjoyed by nations of which neither Paul nor Luther ever heard.

• From The Pillar of Salt (1953)

  For the time being, however, I was no longer entirely alone, since others seemed to live in the same kind of loneliness. Marrou helped me understand what kind of an individual I am and gave me reason to hope, but Poinsot taught me self-confidence and the joys of knowledge. He was my philosophy instructor, as I have already said, and taught me how to think. I wanted him, besides, to be my confessor and my ideal as a human being. Nearly every day I used to wait for him at the gate of the lycée and, as I walked him all the way to his home on the hill to the east, beyond the city limits, I would express all my ideas and hesitations and test on him the effect of the impulsive decisions I had taken. Only in his presence did I drop my uncompromisingly dogmatic attitudes, for I knew that he was extremely well intentioned. Whenever I called on Marrou, I listened to him because he spoke both of himself and of me. With Poinsot, however, I generally did more of the talking, though he was my instructor. And he would listen to me, smoking his pipe and smiling. Through his teeth, stained yellow from tobacco, that tightly gripped the stem of his pipe, he would mumble: “Yes, of course, of course, I guess that’s reasonable...” I do not know how he managed to reconcile this unlimited approval with his merciless critical intelligence that was unbelievably sure in its judgments. Because he viewed the world with an open mind, everything seemed clear and translucent to him. Mysteries, complexes, and difficulties all resolved themselves, in his presence, into clear notions that one could grasp and analyze with wondrous facility. That is how I learned to see conventions, habits, and prejudices clearly, so that I was no longer scared of them. After his last morning class, when he was weary of answering the questions of the students, he would beckon me with his hand. The rest of the class had finally admitted that this was my privilege. We would leave the school building together, walking slowly in the sun as he smoked and I thought aloud, reporting to him all the latest news of my intellectual progress. I was straightening out everything between myself and my surroundings. Certainly, one’s social duty should also imply some personal freedom, otherwise it becomes mere tyranny devoid of any ethical value; naturally, tradition must be examined anew and either rejected or accepted, and a revival of mysticism implies, of course, the bankruptcy of philosophical speculation in a society that has succumbed to sickness. I was proud to discover that I was in agreement with all the great thinkers he quoted to me as references in order to supply my stammering discoveries with the right foundations.

• From Henry and June (1986)

  Also, the resistance returns more strongly when some incident reawakens my sense of guilt. I realized that my life was stopped again. I cried. But perhaps because of this talk with Allendy I was able to go on, to go to Henry, to conquer my jealousy of Paulette. I suppose it is an indication of my pride and independence to say that I find it difficult to give entire credit to psychoanalysis for my various victories, and I am apt to believe it is due to Henry’s great humanness or my own efforts. Eduardo pointed out to me how quickly I forget the true source of my new confidence and how this very confidence (given to me by Allendy) is what makes one believe in one’s own powers. In short, I don’t know enough about psychoanalysis yet to realize that I owe everything to Allendy. I have not let myself dwell sentimentally on him. In fact, I am glad that I do not love him. Need him, yes, and admire him, but without sensuality. I have a feeling that I am waiting for him to become upset by me. I enjoy it when he admits I intimidated him the first day we met or when he talks about my sensual charm. Here, the awareness that transference is an artificially stimulated emotion inspires me with more mistrust than ever. If I doubt genuine manifestations of love, how much more do I doubt this mentally aroused attachment. Allendy talks about finding my true rhythm. He developed this from an acutely visual dream I had. As far as he could see, from studying me, I was fundamentally an exotic Cuban woman, with charm, simplicity, and purity. All the rest was literary, intellectual. There was nothing wrong with acting roles except that one must not take them seriously. But I become sincere and go all the way. And I then become uneasy and unhappy. Allendy also believes my interest in perversions to be a pose. Long after he said this, I remembered that the place where I have been most soundly happy is Switzerland, where I lived washed of all external roles. Do I think myself interesting in a picture hat, soft dress, little make-up, as I am in Switzerland? No. But I think myself interesting in a Russian hat! Lack of faith in my fundamental values. At this point I began to balk a little. If psychoanalysis is going to annihilate all nobility in personal motives and in art by the discovery of neurotic roots, what does it substitute in place of them? What would I be without my decoration, costume, personality? Would I be a more vigorous artist? Allendy says I must live with greater sincerity and naturalness. I must not overstep the bounds of my nature, create dissonances, deviations, roles (as June has done), because it means misery. I am waiting in Allendy’s salon. I hear a woman’s voice in his office. I feel jealous.

• From The Pillar of Salt (1953)

  I rose from my chair and walked across the room. As if the electric current that fed it had been cut, I suddenly recovered from the tremor that had overpowered me ever since she had entered the room, though I had noticed it only now. I was back in the ordered world of everyday events, with my classmate Ginou. I had almost forgotten that Ginou had to be coached in composition. Walking up and down the room, I now began to explain things to her as one might to an audience of strangers in a lecture hall. Meanwhile, she took notes very actively and her pencil no longer scraped against the paper. I made a few wisecracks about that dumb cluck Hippolytus and his horrified surprise when his stepmother propositioned him, but otherwise we studied seriously and with great concentration. When we had finished the job, she asked me not to accompany her downstairs and I heard her footfalls grow fainter and fainter as she went down the stairs and left me alone. I was calm, but as if I had just recovered from a moment of drunkenness, of happy drunkenness that left me no hangover and no headache. “It’s the first time I have ever touched a girl,” I repeated to myself, “the first time, a girl...” I felt proud of myself, as if this had all been some kind of promotion or of admission into a world of initiates, and I came to a clear conclusion, that Ginou’s answer could only be interpreted as an admission of her love. But she seemed, when I next saw her, to have already forgotten the fabulous experience that we shared in common. All my references to it called forth no response, and my enthusiasm remained fruitless, matched by no admission, on her part, of any complicity or of any tenderness. At all of our meetings that followed, I scarcely dared remind her of our wonderful Saturday, and I had to return to my old devices and random hints. One day, we had reached the end of a long walk in a public park. It had been raining, and the autumn shower had summoned forth heavy and deeply moving scents from the damp earth. I love the smell of the afternoon, the damp breath of plants, the leaves shining with drops of rain that quiver, the flowers that are ready to droop. We had been very talkative about everything except what mattered to me, and I at last broached this subject too, affirming, though in an abstract manner, as usual: “If only a girl would really trust me, I would be ready to do anything for her!” Without any hesitation, she answered me: “Well, you can count on me, for always!” She had come to this decision reasonably and was expressing her consent: we would now be able to marry. But I remained speechless with surprise, though I had prepared everything and had long been expecting this confirmation.

• From The Pillar of Salt (1953)

  I still had to announce my triumph to Monsieur Bismuth before going to the assembly hall. I went all the way to the drugstore with my shoulders proudly thrown back and, as on the day of my bar mitzvah, all the way back home from the synagogue, people in the street turned around to stare at me as they had on that previous occasion too, when I went by in my new blue suit, followed by my ushers. Now I could hear their voices and I was anxious to see the people stare at me as before. I felt light-footed as an angel and my head seemed to be up among the little white clouds in the sky that is always blue when I have triumphed. For the first time, I would see Monsieur Bismuth without feeling ill at ease. Now that I had managed to obtain recognition as the best pupil in the school system of my whole country, I had certainly proved myself worthy of the opportunity that had been granted me. I had justified all the hopes that had been vested in me by the Alliance Israélite Universelle, by the community and by Monsieur Bismuth. I had never admitted to anyone the nature of my relationship with Monsieur Bismuth, not even to Bissor, who was also the beneficiary of a grant. It had all remained a secret, reassuring to me but also humiliating. When I told Ginou that I would one day be a physician, my hopes were always firmly founded on this financial security. But all my dearest hopes were also intermingled with a secret shame. My great success now left me the same delicious taste as suddenly finding myself free of a bothersome debt. Monsieur Bismuth’s pharmacists always treated me with a condescending manner. They identified themselves with the store, and I was somehow sure that they said to themselves: “There’s the kid whose studies we pay for...” Whenever I went to the store, I simply put in an appearance and waited until someone decided to attend to me. Generally, they served several customers before announcing me. But I was in a hurry, that day, and swollen too with legitimate pride as I had to be on time for the announcements of the prizes. So I refrained from waiting for one of the pharmacists to be kind enough to attend to me; instead, I interrupted one at his work, told him my business was urgent and asked him to announce me without further delay. Miraculous though it might seem, he smiled and complied, and Monsieur Bismuth immediately sent back a reply to the effect that he would see me at once. So I sat down beside some waiting customers.

• From The Pillar of Salt (1953)

  When they objected, I gravely reduced them to silence by invoking their inevitable recovery from illness. But all this was imaginary play. In due time I would realize how impossible it was for me to pursue my studies, and I would probably, like the other boys of my sort, have to bow before the inevitable, without any chance to revolt. After that, as an errand boy or an apprentice in a workshop, all my childhood ambitions would be forgotten. To encourage us all the better to study, one of my instructors later compared the school system to a series of sieves. In the first, with its coarser-grained holes, a first selection took place; in the second, and finer sieve, a second sorting, and so on. Only the very finest and best elements thus survived the whole screening process. The comparison was good, but unfortunately explains too little. To compete successfully, one needed, in addition to intelligence and the ability to work hard, some financial stability too. But a larger income was required at each test, for it had to make up for the student’s lack of any earnings, to counteract the jealousies of relatives, the nagging criticisms of his family, the low morale of the student who grows weary of having too many problems and is soon tempted by the first steady earnings of his former classmates. Nor should one forget school fees, schoolbooks, and clothes. Such, at least, is the problem that arises for students of my social background. The number of obstacles that ill luck made me contend with was really very considerable. But fate’s first gift to me was to open the doors of high school. I was eleven years old when I was ready to take the examinations for my school certificate, an exceptional age for grade school, which was usually completed at thirteen. Foolishly, we made jokes about the ignorance of the high-school kids who were taking the same examination, but we overlooked the fact that they were much younger than we. Besides, the certificate was not required for them, and whatever backwardness they revealed at the examination was made up for in the course of their seven high-school years. They then came up for their baccalaureate exam at the age of sixteen, whereas the former grade-school pupils could not achieve this before the age of eighteen or nineteen. But I had not yet begun to look so far ahead. I was merely proud of getting into the last year of grade school and of being the youngest in my class.

• From The Pillar of Salt (1953)

  In the end, my supporters won the day and, one afternoon, as we sat in class listening to a lecture on astronomy, our little supervisor, Dubois, came in, his red nose stuck out ahead of him and his eyes glistening with tears of timidity. He then handed our instructor my summons to the commencement ceremony where the prizes would be announced, and ran off. Our mathematics instructor, a heavy Alsatian who constantly reminded us of his Germanic background, as opposed to the softness of Africa, and who therefore affected a Prussian crew-cut and a brutal manner, now read the message aloud, carefully pronouncing each word. In the silence that had come over the expectant class, my glory was becoming a reality under the very eyes of my classmates as they all stared at me. I lowered my own gaze, overcome by pride, in spite of my desire to appear detached. I could no longer feel the existence of my own body. I seemed to be only the hard beating of my own heart as it struck like a bell in the air. Again, I began to feel the burning heat in my cheeks, and I was called back to reality when Sitboun, who sat next to me, remarked: “Say, you swine...” This consecration of my glory made all my desires crystallize. I would make a career of philosophy, a daily business of it. My present prominence and the envious admiration of my classmates would then be permanent. Before the results of our written examinations and especially of the one in philosophy had been announced, my classmates had stared at me; when my name was announced again and again, they shrugged their shoulders and returned to their own business of scrambling for the next best places after me.

• From The Pillar of Salt (1953)

  Just one month before our final examinations, I learned by the high-school grapevine that my name had been proposed for the philosophy prize, an honor that was awarded every year to the one student in the whole country who had maintained the highest average in his grades. It thus came as a final reward at the end of a successful school career. And now an official and public recognition would consecrate my own past efforts and talents. Well-informed classmates added, however, that the discussion for the choice of the prize-winner was going to be difficult. Though I was heartily seconded by Poinsot, my philosophy instructor, I was opposed by others, particularly our chemistry instructor. These classmates quoted remarks that had been made in the heat of the debate as well as details of the discussions, as though they had actually been present. I pretended to disdain all this idle gossip, but listened all the more intently as I knew how surprisingly reliable were their sources of information. The parents of many of these boys often invited our instructors as guests to their homes, and these teachers, flattered at finding themselves in the homes of the wealthier middle class, often confided details of school administration to their hosts. Nor were they to be blamed, their sole motive was to assume an appearance of power. I happened to hate our chemistry instructor, and the science that he taught us suffered as a consequence. Foolishly, I felt that he gave tuition to too many private pupils and had thus transformed our noble profession, already his and some day to be mine, into a trade. This indignation of mine was inspired by a prejudice that I shared with the middle classes. Why shouldn’t a teacher make the most of his profession, just like a doctor or a lawyer? But I had reasons of my own, better ones, in fact the only ones: I despised money-makers, one and all. My history instructor, on the other hand, was not prepared to forgive my political aggressiveness. The prize that was about to be awarded required an exemplary conduct. But I had shouted so often, in front of the whole class, my admiration for Robespierre and my respect for Saint-Just, or my indignation against the injustices of the nobility and the treason of the higher clergy, that I could no longer claim to have behaved with decorum.

• From The Pillar of Salt (1953)

  But today, I had not yet had any morning breakfast, so that there could be no question of saving. The sandwich that Chaoul, the janitor, prepared for me would scarcely be enough. Saul felt reassured and went ahead, buying his daily ration of Nestlé. Unlike Garsia, he bought his bars one by one and tore the wrappings slowly, like one of those gamblers who uncover their cards one at a time, a millimeter at a time. He kept all of us on tenterhooks, crowding round him in silence. But he too had no luck. One after the other, he drew a bird, then a second bird, and a fish, all of them run-of-the-mill cards of which he already owned several copies. Saul had thus spent twenty-one pennies and now searched the pockets of his pants and of his overall apron, to find there only a top, some marbles, a piece of string, a two-penny piece, and a single penny, and that was all. On his face there began to appear the signs of a spoiled child’s tantrum, and he almost made me pity him. He shook out his crumpled handkerchief: another coin fell out of it. We all rushed to pick it up, another two-penny piece. We were interested in watching the last efforts of the luckless gambler, and only Birdie seemed to remain impassive, watching it all with a kind and paternal look in his eyes. Graziani, the gateman, then appeared in the entrance, clapped his hands and began to push open the heavy door. The group around Birdie slowly dispersed. Out of a feeling of friendship, I waited for Saul who was now fumbling in his satchel. He finally spoke to me, asking me with great affability: “Can you lend me two pennies?” I was his last chance, and I didn’t hesitate long. To be sure, I didn’t have much time to think it over and the whole situation was too new for me. Poor little rich boy Saul needed my money, my two pennies. I was vaguely and stupidly proud of this. Perhaps, too, I would have been ashamed to say no, and I later felt more resentful toward him because of this feeling of shame than of anything else. Saul had offered me, from time to time, chocolate or candy, but I had never offered him anything. I knew exactly where my own money was tucked away. But as I always hid it in a tobacco tin, well concealed beneath my apron, in the breast pocket of my shirt, and as Saul was now in a hurry, I fumbled around with my fingers in the pleats of the shirt and Saul became impatient. “Hurry up!” he exclaimed.

• From The Pillar of Salt (1953)

  The ceremony was to take place the next day, a Thursday, at five o’clock. I still had to announce my triumph to Monsieur Bismuth before going to the assembly hall. I went all the way to the drugstore with my shoulders proudly thrown back and, as on the day of my bar mitzvah, all the way back home from the synagogue, people in the street turned around to stare at me as they had on that previous occasion too, when I went by in my new blue suit, followed by my ushers. Now I could hear their voices and I was anxious to see the people stare at me as before. I felt light-footed as an angel and my head seemed to be up among the little white clouds in the sky that is always blue when I have triumphed. For the first time, I would see Monsieur Bismuth without feeling ill at ease. Now that I had managed to obtain recognition as the best pupil in the school system of my whole country, I had certainly proved myself worthy of the opportunity that had been granted me. I had justified all the hopes that had been vested in me by the Alliance Israélite Universelle, by the community and by Monsieur Bismuth. I had never admitted to anyone the nature of my relationship with Monsieur Bismuth, not even to Bissor, who was also the beneficiary of a grant. It had all remained a secret, reassuring to me but also humiliating. When I told Ginou that I would one day be a physician, my hopes were always firmly founded on this financial security. But all my dearest hopes were also intermingled with a secret shame. My great success now left me the same delicious taste as suddenly finding myself free of a bothersome debt.

• From The Pillar of Salt (1953)

  Without his having to ask them overtly, the children started quitting school, one after the other, very early. Worn away by my father’s daily reminders of their expense, frightened by his asthma attacks, they felt guilty and spontaneously began to want to find a job. When I managed insidiously to persuade them to stay till the sixth year, all they gained thereby was a final examination at the end of the year. Convinced of their failure in spite of the heavy sacrifices already made, they were sure that the struggle was futile, and didn’t even dare turn up for the test. But I myself had now gone too far and was too conscious of my own ambition to turn back. On the contrary, the constant aggression, the mournful speeches which ceaselessly strengthened my feelings of guilt, all this gave a considerable importance to my studies. I brought to them a kind of passion, an avidity that my schoolmates could not understand, pleasant amateurs that they were. Like Loriot’s chocolates, so expensive for me, I swallowed as much of it all as I could. For whole years, I raced against time, making each day, each hour of my life count and conform literally to a strict schedule. I wanted to come up in the world, to succeed, but succeed at what? I wasn’t sure, but still had to keep going. I set myself provisional goals, stations on the long road I traveled: to win this prize and get ahead of that student. Since, at that age, knowledge and experience are so easily confused, my teachers believed me very mature and told me so. My major teacher in the third year noted “an energetic intellect” on my report card at the end of the year. I had the highest average in the second year and was probably Marrou’s best student in the first. The kids at school told me, and they would certainly not have made it up to please me, that Poinsot, our philosophy teacher, had said: “He’s the most intelligent student I’ve ever had, and I’ve been teaching for sixteen years.” One day I read that intellectual and sexual precociousness went together, and that many famous men had also been sexually very gifted. After questioning my friends, I came to believe that I was clearly ahead of them there too. I no longer doubted my genius and my pride was thereby increased. The appreciations expressed by my teachers filled my heart with happiness and made me laugh when I was alone. Sometimes, when I thought of these compliments as I walked along the street, I had to clench my teeth until they hurt in order not to smile like an idiot.

• From The Pillar of Salt (1953)

  Before the results of our written examinations and especially of the one in philosophy had been announced, my classmates had stared at me; when my name was announced again and again, they shrugged their shoulders and returned to their own business of scrambling for the next best places after me. The ceremony was to take place the next day, a Thursday, at five o’clock. I still had to announce my triumph to Monsieur Bismuth before going to the assembly hall. I went all the way to the drugstore with my shoulders proudly thrown back and, as on the day of my bar mitzvah, all the way back home from the synagogue, people in the street turned around to stare at me as they had on that previous occasion too, when I went by in my new blue suit, followed by my ushers. Now I could hear their voices and I was anxious to see the people stare at me as before. I felt light-footed as an angel and my head seemed to be up among the little white clouds in the sky that is always blue when I have triumphed. For the first time, I would see Monsieur Bismuth without feeling ill at ease. Now that I had managed to obtain recognition as the best pupil in the school system of my whole country, I had certainly proved myself worthy of the opportunity that had been granted me. I had justified all the hopes that had been vested in me by the Alliance Israélite Universelle, by the community and by Monsieur Bismuth. I had never admitted to anyone the nature of my relationship with Monsieur Bismuth, not even to Bissor, who was also the beneficiary of a grant. It had all remained a secret, reassuring to me but also humiliating. When I told Ginou that I would one day be a physician, my hopes were always firmly founded on this financial security. But all my dearest hopes were also intermingled with a secret shame. My great success now left me the same delicious taste as suddenly finding myself free of a bothersome debt. Monsieur Bismuth’s pharmacists always treated me with a condescending manner. They identified themselves with the store, and I was somehow sure that they said to themselves: “There’s the kid whose studies we pay for...” Whenever I went to the store, I simply put in an appearance and waited until someone decided to attend to me. Generally, they served several customers before announcing me. But I was in a hurry, that day, and swollen too with legitimate pride as I had to be on time for the announcements of the prizes. So I refrained from waiting for one of the pharmacists to be kind enough to attend to me; instead, I interrupted one at his work, told him my business was urgent and asked him to announce me without further delay.

• From The Pillar of Salt (1953)

  I reacted impetuously and without a moment’s thought. I did not wait to find out how the new laws were to be applied. Instantly I wrote a letter of resignation which I handed to the principal of the school. I have no idea what he thought of the young man who was handing in his resignation from a so unimportant post with the grandest of manners. I still felt a pupil’s respect for him, and my indignation and the difficulty of explaining myself all gave me an appearance of great solemnity. In any case, he played the part I expected of him perfectly. This retired commander of a Spahi regiment, tall and straight in spite of his age, impressed us by his physical presence and his firm and elegant muscles which he carefully kept in condition on the tennis courts. He accepted my letter, adding that he approved of my gesture and would have done the same himself. I was proud and moved that I had had the courage to do what my school principal himself would have done, and I left his office feeling quits with the persecutors of Vichy. I had hit back, blow for blow. Of course, I had lost my job. But my reputation, both as a serious pupil and as a student, assured me many requests for private lessons. When they had encroached on my rigid schedule, I had refused them; now I would accept them. Even when the universities were closed to Jews I was not alarmed. Having no money, I could not attend them anyway. But we did have the right to continue to the end of the school year. The war was not real enough for me to imagine how long it might last. On the contrary, my own near future seemed so promising that in my own mind I just ignored this obstacle. Immediately, with the arrival of the Germans, came disaster. No longer did I have the leisure to meditate; we were hurled into such a whirlwind that we only started breathing again after they left. Disaster certainly makes one less lucid. The first morning after that sinister evening when the German authorities settled in the dark city, the Kommandantur took its first anti-Jewish steps. Armed with well-prepared lists and accompanied, as was fitting, by their French colleagues, the German police went out to collect several hundred hostages. It was announced that, at the slightest opposition, they would all be shot. Then came requisitions and exactions and murders. Now that we have news from the rest of the world, I know that we did not reach the bottom of the abyss. We had no gas chambers or crematoria. Those of us who were deported to Germany probably went through all that, but we did not know about it at the time.

• From The Pillar of Salt (1953)

  I reached the Parents’ Association Hall in a sweat, and the crowd was already streaming out of it as I ran up the four steps to the entrance. In the middle of the hall, the long table, still littered with glasses and bottles, had been abandoned. The celebration was over and only a few small groups, probably parents of those who had won prizes, were still gossiping, with all sorts of polite intonations in their voices and gestures of their hands, of their whole plump little bodies that seemed to be brimful of foolish happiness and pride. Nobody has ever come along with me, I said to myself, but I’ve always managed to come out ahead of their children. Now, I hesitated in the doorway, not knowing a soul in the hall. By failing to appear on time, I had missed celebrity and now stood there in an undeserved and insuperable incognito, with nobody to recognize me. Still, I couldn’t call out to them: “Hi, there! I’m the honors prize-winner, the boy whose name you heard called out, with all his credits, a little while ago!” In a corner, I spotted our school principal, his hair carefully trimmed in a crew-cut, but his pants too short as always, surrounded by parents who were all putting on an act for him. Theirs were indeed the grace and the lightness of a dancing bear. Devoid of any hope, I circled this fort that was being besieged, hoping to catch his eye, though effectively barred by the backs of the crowd. At long last, he caught sight of me and beckoned me to come closer: “Ah, there’s Benillouche, our honors prize-winner!” A wave of happiness came over me as all these people whom I despised now turned to stare at me, perhaps with indifference or even jealousy. The principal was talking to a little man I had failed to notice because he was concealed by the crowd. His glasses framed in black, like those of a comic actor, were the only element of self-affirmation in his otherwise sickly body, modest appearance and characterless clothes. “Come, come here, Benillouche,” insisted the principal. He then introduced me to the little man, who — none other than the Chief of Public Education for Tunisia — held out his hand and smiled in a friendly manner. I felt very guilty about being late and mumbled that I had been prevented from coming earlier, which seemed to interest nobody at all. “What are your plans for the coming school year?” the Chief asked me politely. “I want to study philosophy,” I answered with assurance. By affirming it now in public, I gave myself the impression that all discussion of the matter, within myself, was now closed. My own answer did me good and reassured me. “That’s perfect,” he replied. “We need teachers. Study hard and we can give you a job.”

• From Aquinas's Summa Theologiae (Critical Essays on the Classics Series) (2006)

  In other words, having availed himself of the freedom of the studium in Rome to depart from the practical theology traditional to his order by commenting in his first year there on Book I of the Sentences, Thomas in his second and third year dropped the Sentences altogether and set out on a road of his own. It was no chance road, but one that he was determined to travel. Even when plucked out of Rome in summer 1268 for university teaching at Paris far removed from the “beginners” at Santa Sabina, he did not abandon his design. By the time he departed Paris four years later, there to embark on, although not to finish, his Tertia Pars, he had completed the Prima Secundae and had compiled the massive Secunda Secundae. This persistence with the Summa over five heavy years at Paris and Naples (1268-1273) during which he wrote voluminously on Aristotle’s Peri-hermeneias, Analytica Posteriora, De Caelo, De Generatione et Corruptione, Meteora, De Anima, Metaphysics, Physics, Politics, and, possibly, Nicomachean Ethics, to mention only some of his writings in these years—this persistence at least suggests that, for Thomas, the Summa was something out of the ordinary and, indeed, meant much to him. It was, one may suggest, his legacy as a Dominican to his order and to its system of educating the brethren in priories all over Europe. It may have been begun at Santa Sabina in Rome where the incipientes were young students of the order, but it was Orvieto and his four years of practical teaching there among the fratres communes that had really occasioned it. With the Summa, in effect, Thomas made his own personal contribution as a Dominican to the longstanding manualist and summist tradition of the order in which he had been a participant at Orvieto (and at Valenciennes), and at the same time attempted to set the regular training in practical theology in the Dominican order on a more truly theological course.

• From Christianity and the Social Crisis (1907)

  The old dividing lines of Jew and Gentile, of civilized Greek and raw barbarian, of slave and freeman, of man and woman, were fading out; the only line that was left to their vision was the line that separated Christians from the rest of the world, and all who were in Christ were one new being. This new race had a great past and a greater future. Reaching backward it claimed all the venerable history of Israel for its own. The patriarchs and prophets, the types, the promises, the whole Scriptures, were not Jewish, but Christian. The Christians were the real Israel. By one daring act of expropriation the Jewish people were thrust out of their historic heritage and the Christian Church sat within the tents of Shem. Christianity was the original religion restored and completed. It was as old as mankind. By this appropriation of Hebrew history the Christians, looking backward, gained a profound sense of historic dignity and importance. They also gained a sense of being a corporate social body, a political entity. Looking forward, this new people realized that it was the people of destiny. As surely as Christ was destined to reign, so surely were the Christians the coming people. They were not only to be superior to the others, but to absorb all others. When Christianity came on the stage of history, there were two distinct types in possession, the Gentiles and the Jews, with a deep and permanent cleavage between the two. Christianity added a third genus, and Christians were profoundly convinced that they were to assimilate and transform all others into a higher unity. The Epistle to the Ephesians is a tract reflecting on this aspect of the mission of Christ. Romans 9–11 is a philosophy of history, forecasting the method by which this process of absorption and solidification was to come about. There is a prophetic grandeur of vision in this large international outlook of the early Christians. The evolution of religion has always been intimately connected with the evolution of social organization. When tribes were amalgamated into a nation, tribal religions passed into a national religion. In the Roman Empire nations were now being fused into a still larger social unity. The old national religions were incapable of serving as the spiritual support for this vaster social body. There was a crying need for an international and purely human religion. Christianity, as we now know, was destined to fulfil this function, and these early Christian thinkers had a prophetic premonition of this destiny. They often dwelt on the fact that Christianity had been born simultaneously with the Empire under Augustus. The universal State and the universal religion were twins by birth. They ought, therefore, to be in helpful relations to each other in accordance with the manifest purpose of God. The Empire should cease to persecute the Church.

• From Christianity and the Social Crisis (1907)

  If that principle had been fully adopted in our religious life, it would have turned the full force of the religious impulse into the creation of right moral conduct and would have made the unchecked growth and accumulation of injustice impossible. This assertion can be verified by history. The Calvinistic Reformation stripped off a large part of the traditional ceremonial of the Church and it turned religious energy into political and intellectual channels. As a consequence the Calvinistic peoples at once leaped forward in the direction of democracy and education, and received such an increment of social efficiency that in spite of terrible handicaps they outstripped the stronger nations which failed to make this fuller connection between religion and social morality. Public and not private morality It is important to note, further, that the morality which the prophets had in mind in their strenuous insistence on righteousness was not merely the private morality of the home, but the public morality on which national life is founded. They said less about the pure heart for the individual than of just institutions for the nation. We are accustomed to connect piety with the thought of private virtues; the pious man is the quiet, temperate, sober, kindly man. The evils against which we contend in the churches are intemperance, unchastity, the sins of the tongue. The twin-evil against which the prophets launched the condemnation of Jehovah was injustice and oppression. The religious ideal of Israel was the theocracy. But the theocracy meant the complete penetration of the national life by religious morality. It meant politics in the name of God. That line by which we have tacitly separated the domain of public affairs and the domain of Christian life was unknown to them. The prophets were not religious individualists. During the classical times of prophetism they always dealt with Israel and Judah as organic totalities. They conceived of their people as a gigantic personality which sinned as one and ought to repent as one. When they speak of their nation as a virgin, as a city, as a vine, they are attempting by these figures of speech to express this organic and corporate social life. In this respect they anticipated a modern conception which now underlies our scientific comprehension of social development and on which modern historical studies are based. We shall see that it was only when the national life of Israel was crushed by foreign invaders that the prophets began to address themselves to the individual life and lost the large horizon of public life. The prophets were public men and their interest was in public affairs. Some of them were statesmen of the highest type. All of them interpreted past history, shaped present history, and foretold future history on the basis of the conviction that God rules with righteousness in the affairs of nations, and that only what is just, and not what is expedient and profitable, shall endure. Samuel was the creator of two dynasties.

• From The Pillar of Salt (1953)

  I was eleven years old when I was ready to take the examinations for my school certificate, an exceptional age for grade school, which was usually completed at thirteen. Foolishly, we made jokes about the ignorance of the high-school kids who were taking the same examination, but we overlooked the fact that they were much younger than we. Besides, the certificate was not required for them, and whatever backwardness they revealed at the examination was made up for in the course of their seven high-school years. They then came up for their baccalaureate exam at the age of sixteen, whereas the former grade-school pupils could not achieve this before the age of eighteen or nineteen. But I had not yet begun to look so far ahead. I was merely proud of getting into the last year of grade school and of being the youngest in my class. Still, it meant no advantages for me, as the lowest age for admission as a candidate was twelve. Everything was indeed very well worked out. If one of us managed to overcome all these handicaps, it proved that he was really much better than all the sons of middle-class parents. When our instructor, Monsieur Marzouk, drew up the list of official candidates, he was sorry to have to warn me that I had to wait until the next year. For a brief moment, the whole class concentrated its attention on me and I was more proud of it all than disappointed. Nor did I even dream that there was such a thing as an entrance examination for admission to the lowest high-school grade, which one could take at any age and that made the school certificate unnecessary. Who could have informed me? My father, who had attended only a year or two of school, or my mother, who has never learned to read or write any language? Our tribe, too busy with the daily preoccupations of its difficult life, had no knowledge of the passionate discussions of middle-class families concerning the future of their children. My immediate future, in school, was always far too uncertain to allow any long-term planning. So I quietly made the most of this honor of having to mark time for a full year and completed a second year of the same grade, winning all the prizes. These easy prizes indeed had more influence on my future, perhaps, than any precocious success at the school certificate might have had.

• From Chéri and The Last of Chéri (1920)

  ‘And old Lili tipped me off at Mamma’s At Home last Sunday. She simply adores me! Besides, she respects me because I’ve never wanted to go to bed with her. ‘I should hope not! ’ Lea sighed. ‘Yet all the same ...’ She broke off to reflect, and it seemed to Cheri her enthusiasm was flagging. ‘'Well, you must say it was pretty smart of me, eh?’ He leaned across the table; and the sunshine, playing over the silver and the white table-cloth, lit him up like a row of footlights. ‘Yes ...’ “All the same,” she was thinking, “that poisonous Marie-Laure simply treated him like a ponce ...” ‘ Is there any cream cheese, Nounoune? * ‘Yes ...’ “... and he showed no more surprise than if she had thrown him a flower. ...” ‘Nounoune, will you let me have that address? the address of the place where you get your cream cheese - for the new cook I’ve engaged for October? * * Are you mad? It’s home-made. I have a cook, you know. Think of the sauce aux moules and vol-au-vent!’“... it’s true I’ve practically kept the boy for the last five years. ... But all the same he has an income of three hundred thousand francs a year. That’s the point. Can you be a ponce with three hundred thousand a year? But why ever not? It doesn’t depend on the amount, but on the man.... There are some men I could have given half a million to, and that wouldn’t make them a ponce. But how about Cheri? After all, I have never actually given him any money. All the same ...” ‘All the same,’ she broke into speech. ‘She treated you like a gigolo!’ ‘Who did?* ‘ Marie-Laure! * He brightened at once, like a child. ‘Didn’t she? Didn’t she just, Nounoune? That’s what she meant, wasn’t it? ’ ‘ So it seems to me.’ Cheri raised his glass of Chateau-Chalon, almost the colour of brandy. ‘So here’s to Marie-Laure! What a compliment, eh? And if anyone can still say it of me when I’m your age, I shan’t ask anything better! ’ ‘If that’s enough to make you happy ...’