The characters in Thérèse Raquin are very focused on money and social class. Camille, for example, goes “pink with pleasure” at the mere idea of himself sitting at a desk with “shiny artificial cuffs” and a fancy pen behind his ear. Of course, he doesn’t seem to care what, exactly, he does for work, as long as he can sit in a “huge office” and feel like a respectable employee. The novel subtly mocks his conventional attitude, hinting that he’s overly impressed by something as unremarkable as existing as a “small cog” in the “big machine” of the working world. He frequently talks about his salary, comparing himself to his colleagues in ways that suggest he thinks people who earn more money are superior to everyone else. And Camille isn’t the only one who thinks this way; his colleague Grivet and his friends Michaud and Olivier all seem to hold the same values. Laurent, however, does not. Instead of valorizing the idea of being seen as a wealthy, successful man, Laurent is only interested in money insofar as he needs it to live how he wants. Unlike Camille, who finds inherent value in work, Laurent would rather live an “idle,” carefree life of unemployment. But this is impossible without sufficient funds, which is one of the reasons he decides to kill Camille, knowing he’ll then be able to marry Thérèse and live off Camille’s inheritance. Later, when he’s dreadfully unhappy with Thérèse, her money—and in particular, its promise of material comfort and security—is one of the only things that keeps him from leaving. Although he never cared about work or social status as much as Camille, then, it becomes clear that Laurent does, in fact, care about money, suggesting that greed can manifest itself in many different ways.
The novel subtly presents people who are obsessed with money and status as small-minded and even somewhat conceited. Camille is a perfect example of the kind of money-minded, status-obsessed person the book underhandedly mocks. Although it might seem like his strong desire to work in a large office hints at a certain ambition, the fact that he doesn’t even care what he does for work—as long as he has a respectable job—undercuts any admiration readers might feel for his work ethic. After all, his vague fantasies about office life indicate that what he really cares about is his image: he wants to be seen as an important man who works at an impressive company and earns a good salary. He wants, in other words, to become Grivet, an older employee at the Orleans Railway who makes a fair amount of money and is in a position of power at the company. However, the novel depicts Grivet as a laughable and rather intolerable idiot—someone who thinks he knows everything but, in reality, is capable of little more than repeating the same boring stories and assuming that everyone respects him. Both Thérèse and Laurent are very aware of just how ridiculous and unimpressive Grivet is, but Camille—and even Madame Raquin—are enchanted by him simply because he has a good job, thus illustrating the extent to which arbitrary things like money and social status can impact how people view others.
What’s more, the novel also suggests that people like Grivet are quite oblivious, regardless of their supposed respectability and power in society. For instance, Camille and Madame Raquin hold Michaud and Olivier in the same high esteem as they hold Grivet, but these men—both trained in police work—completely fail to see that a murder has taken place in their own small social group. Even though they’re respected members of the police force, neither Michaud nor Olivier has the slightest idea that Thérèse and Laurent viciously murdered Camille. In fact, Michaud even plays a significant role in arranging the wedding of the two murderers, believing that Laurent is a wonderful person who deserves to take Camille’s place as Thérèse’s husband. The implication, then, is that the people Camille respected so much when he was alive are, in reality, fairly oblivious and ignorant. The only thing they have going for them is their respectable status in society, which—the novel implies—says nothing about who they really are or whether or not they’re worthy of admiration.
And yet, the fact that Laurent remains unimpressed by wealth and class doesn’t mean he has the luxury of never worrying about money. Indeed, Laurent actually thinks about money a fair amount, but not because he cares about becoming rich or earning a good reputation in society. Rather, he thinks about money simply because he yearns to live a carefree life—his dream, in other words, is to live like a rich person who doesn’t have to work. In a way, his desire to be “idle” is one of the things that drives him to murder Camille, since he’s well aware that he would have access to Madame Raquin’s savings if he were to marry Thérèse. Although his motivations are different than those of Camille or Grivet, then, he moves through life with a similar kind of greed (or, in reality, a much more violent and unrelenting form of greed). He ends up paying dearly for this greed, since he stays in a wretched and miserable relationship with Thérèse in order to keep drawing on her family money. Long after it has become clear that their marriage makes him deeply unhappy, he sticks around because he can’t imagine having to go back to work to support himself. He therefore prioritizes money just as much (or perhaps even more than) Grivet and Camille do, effectively demonstrating the many different ways in which fixating on wealth can corrupt people and negatively impact their lives.
Money, Greed, and Class ThemeTracker
Money, Greed, and Class Quotes in Thérèse Raquin
The truth was that only stupid ambition had driven Camille to think of leaving. He wanted to be an employee in some large administration, and would go pink with pleasure at the thought of himself sitting in the middle of a huge office, wearing shiny artificial cuffs and with a quill pen tucked behind his ear.
It is true that he found Thérèse plain and did not love her, but then she would not cost him anything; the women he usually picked up cheaply were certainly no prettier, nor any better loved. On grounds of economy alone, it was a good idea to take his friend’s wife. […] Then again, when he came to think about it, an affair like this could hardly lead to any trouble: it would be in Thérèse’s interests to cover it up, and he could easily jilt her when he felt like it; even if Camille did find out and get annoyed, he would just thump him if he started to throw his weight around. Whichever way he looked at it, the prospect seemed an easy and alluring one to Laurent.
Thérèse remained tight-lipped, for she had no intention of letting Laurent fritter away the small fortune on which her freedom depended. When her husband pressed her with questions in an attempt to gain her assent, she replied drily, pointing out that, if he left his office, he would no longer be bringing in any money, so he would have to depend entirely on her. While she was speaking, Laurent looked at her sharply in a disconcerting way that made the rejection she was about to pronounce stick in her throat; she thought she could read in her accomplice’s eyes the menacing threat: ‘If you don’t agree, I’ll spill the beans.’