BALZAC 
 
 EDGAR EVERTSON SALTUS 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 
 New York : 85 Fifth Avenue 
 
 <Kfc fttoetfilw ferw, CambnDge
 
 Copyright, 1884. 
 BY EDGAR EVERTSON SALTUS. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 The Riverside Prets, Cambridge, Mass., V. S. A. 
 Electrotyped and Printed by II. 0. Ilougbton & Company.
 
 EIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 SANTA BARBARA 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 THE VAGARIES OF GENIUS .... 5 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 THE COMEDIE HUMAINE .... 39 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 THE BUSKIN AND THE SOCK .... 69 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 THE CHASE FOR GOLD . . . . 108 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 THE THINKER 140 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY 165
 
 BALZAC. 
 i 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE VAGARIES OF GENIUS. 
 
 " Great minds are bravely eccentric ; they scorn the beaten track." 
 GOLDSMITH. 
 
 IN the city of Tours, in whose gabled streets 
 there lingers still some memory of la belle 
 Imp6ria, Honord de Balzac was born on the 
 2oth of May, 1799. 
 
 His childhood was in no wise extraordinary, 
 save for the avidity with which he read the 
 Bible and the keen delight which he took in 
 the possession of a little red violin. He was 
 indifferent to romps and games, and when 
 not lost in the mysterious depths of the Scrip- 
 tures he played by the hour on his fiddle, and 
 extracted therefrom an enjoyment which was 
 almost sensual in its intensity. His parents 
 were well-considered people, in easy circum- 
 stances. Honore' was their first-born, and to 
 him were subsequently given two sisters and a 
 brother, concerning whom only a passing men-
 
 6 Balzac. 
 
 tion need be made. His eldest sister, Laure, 
 became the wife of M. de Surville, a civil engi- 
 neer, survived her illustrious brother, and pub- 
 lished his letters, together with a weak sketch 
 of his life ; his second sister also married, but 
 died at an early age ; while his brother Henri 
 sought his fortune, after the manner of younger 
 sons, in the colonies, failed to find it, and was 
 otherwise entirely uninteresting. 
 
 At the age of eight, Balzac was placed as 
 boarder at the Colle'ge de Vendome, where, 
 through the compression of his dreamy nature 
 by unaccustomed tasks and rules, he soon 
 lapsed into a careless neglect of his duties, and 
 became, in consequence, one of the most fre- 
 quently punished pupils in his class. Favored, 
 however, by the tacit connivance of a tutor, he 
 passed most of his time in the library. Science, 
 philosophy, belles-lettres, religion, history, and 
 even dictionaries, he read and inwardly digested, 
 and during the six years that he remained at 
 the school he assimilated the substance of all 
 the books worth reading. 
 
 This absorption of ideas produced a note- 
 worthy effect. His eye embraced six or eight 
 lines at a time, and his mind appropriated the 
 thought with a velocity equal to his glance ; a 
 single word in a phrase often sufficing for a 
 clear understanding of the whole. 
 
 His memory was like a vise. He remem-
 
 Vagaries of Genius. 7 
 
 bered not only the ideas which he had acquired 
 in reading, but also those which conversation 
 and reflection had suggested. Words, names, 
 figures, and places he not only recalled at will, 
 but he saw them within himself, brilliant and 
 colored as they were at the moment when he 
 had first perceived them. 
 
 Mentally fortified by his extensive reading, 
 he wrote at the age of twelve the famous 
 " Traite de la Volonte," so often mentioned in 
 his later works, but which was confiscated by 
 the regent as the probable cause of his neglect 
 of the regular curriculum, and which Balzac 
 says he doubtless sold for waste paper without 
 recognizing the value of the scientific treas- 
 ures whose germs were thus wasted in igno- 
 rant hands. 
 
 After this loss, more than terrible to a young 
 imagination, Balzac sought consolation in verse, 
 and wrote a poem on the Incas, commencing: 
 " O Inca ! roi infortun^ et malheureux ! " which, 
 with the exception of his subsequent " Crom- 
 well," was his sole familiarity with the peplum 
 of the Muse ; for, of the four sonnets in the 
 " Illusions Perdues," the first and second are 
 by Lassaily, the third is by Madame de Girar- 
 din, and the fourth by Gautier, while the poem 
 in " Modeste Mignon " was the work of Gerard 
 de Nerval. 
 
 From these secret and laborious studies, as
 
 8 Balzac. 
 
 well as from possible fermentation of ideas, 
 Balzac fell into a sort of coma and nervous 
 fever, which was singularly inexplicable to his 
 masters and teachers. His parents were has- 
 tily summoned, and the precocious boy, now 
 almost epileptic, was taken home, where rest 
 and quiet gradually calmed the tumult in his 
 brain, and restored the health and vivacity of 
 boyhood. Little by little the results of his ex- 
 traordinary labors became classified within his 
 troubled mind, and to them were added other 
 ideas of a less abstract nature ; and in wander- 
 ing on the banks of the Loire, or in attending 
 the impressive ceremonies at the Cathedral of 
 Saint-Gatien, he acquired not only a love of 
 the beautiful, but also the sincere and abiding 
 faith in religion with which he subsequently en- 
 riched the pages of the " Comedie Humaine." 
 At home, as at school, however, his intelli- 
 gence was entirely unsuspected, and his sister, 
 Madame de Surville, relates that whenever he 
 chanced to make a brilliant remark his mother 
 would invariably say, " It is impossible, Ho- 
 nore, for you to understand what you are talk- 
 ing about ; " whereupon Honore would laugh, 
 without deigning to enter into any explana- 
 tions. 1 His father, however, who was an in- 
 offensive disciple of both Montaigne and Swift, 
 had his own reasons for thinking well of his 
 
 1 Balzac, by Madame de Surville. Calmann Le'vy, Paris.
 
 The Vagaries of Genius. 9 
 
 son, and decided that a child of his could never 
 by any chance be a fool ; and while at that time 
 he saw nothing in the boy which promised any 
 immediate celebrity, he nevertheless cherished 
 a few vague hopes. 
 
 But the prescience which the father lacked 
 had already visited the son. From time to 
 time he stated that he would some day be fa- 
 mous, and this boast appeared so outrageously 
 insulting to his brother and sisters that they 
 punished him with every torture which child- 
 ish ingenuity could invent. 
 
 Balzac's family soon after moved to Paris, 
 where he again was placed at school. There, 
 as at Vendome, he gave no sign of future ge- 
 nius, and as before was regarded as an idler 
 and a dullard. 
 
 His classes completed, he attended the lec- 
 tures of Guizot, Cousin, and Villemain, and his 
 degree of bachelier-es-lettres obtained, he en- 
 tered a law office which Scribe had just quit- 
 ted. Here he acquired that luminous insight 
 to law and procedure which served him to 
 such advantage in the varied litigations of his 
 future world, and enabled him, years after, 
 to plead, as Voltaire did for Galas, in defense 
 of Sdbastien Peytel, a former acquaintance, ac- 
 cused of the murder of his wife and servant. 
 The case was lost, and his client convicted ; but 
 his oration was none the less superb, and his
 
 io Balzac. 
 
 argument is still cited as one of the most bril- 
 liant efforts in the annals of the French bar. 
 
 His legal apprenticeship completed, it was 
 naturally expected that he would follow the law 
 as a profession, but Balzac had other ideas ; he 
 felt as did Corneille e tutti guanti, that his vo- 
 cation was not such as is found in courts, and 
 expressed a preference for a purely literary life. 
 
 " But," objected his father, " do you not 
 know that in literature, to avoid being a slave, 
 you must be a king ? " 
 
 "Very well," Balzac replied, "king I will be." 
 
 After many arguments it was finally agreed 
 that he should be allowed two years of proba- 
 tion ; and as his family were about to return to 
 the country, he was lodged in the Rue Les- 
 diguieres, near the Bibliotheque de PArsenal, 
 on an allowance of a hundred francs a month. 
 His life there he has in " Facino Cane " de- 
 scribed as follows : 
 
 " I passed my days at the neighboring library. 
 I lived frugally, for I had accepted all the con- 
 ditions of that monastic life which is so neces- 
 sary to students and thinkers. I seldom went 
 out, and when I did a simple promenade was 
 converted into a source of study, for I observed 
 the customs of the faubourg, its inhabitants 
 and their characters. As badly dressed as the 
 workmen and as careless of decorum, I attract- 
 ed no attention from them, and was enabled
 
 The Vagaries of Genius. 1 1 
 
 to mix among them and watch their bargains 
 and disputes. 
 
 " Observation had become to me intuitive. 
 It penetrated the spirit without neglecting the 
 body, or rather it seized exterior details so 
 clearly that it immediately went beyond them. 
 It gave me the power of living the life of any 
 individual upon whom it was exercised, and 
 permitted me to substitute my personality for 
 his, as did the dervish in the ' Thousand and 
 One Nights ' who had the power of occupying 
 the body and soul of those over whom he pro- 
 nounced certain words. When, therefore, be- 
 tween eleven and twelve at night, I encountered 
 a workman and his wife returning from the 
 theatre, I amused myself in following them 
 from the Boulevard du Pont-aux-Choux to the 
 Boulevard Beaumarchais. At first they would 
 speak of the play which they had just witnessed. 
 From that they would begin to talk of their 
 own affairs, the mother dragging her child after 
 her, listening neither to its complaints nor to 
 its demands. The money which was to be 
 paid to th%m was added, and then spent in 
 twenty different ways. Then came the house- 
 hold details, murmurings on the excessive price 
 of potatoes, the length of the winter, energetic 
 discussions on the baker's bill, and finally little 
 quarrels, in which they displayed their charac- 
 ters in picturesque words. While listening to
 
 12 Balzac. 
 
 them I espoused their life. I felt their rags on 
 my back; my feet marched in their tattered 
 shoes ; their desires, their needs, all passed into 
 my spirit, and mine into theirs : it was the dream 
 of a waking man. With them I grew angry at 
 their tyrannical masters or at their customers 
 who made them come again and again without 
 paying what they owed. 
 
 "To relinquish my identity, to become an- 
 other through the intoxication of the moral 
 faculties, and to play this game at will, such 
 was my sole distraction. I have sometimes 
 wondered if this gift was one of those faculties 
 whose abuse leads to madness, but its causes 
 I have never sought. I know, merely, that I 
 possess and make use of it." 
 
 This ability to penetrate mentally the indi- 
 viduality of another is the evident explanation 
 of the minuteness with which all of Balzac's 
 characters are drawn, as well as the secret of 
 their logical attitudes ; for as in every-day life, 
 while it is a question whether man is his own 
 providence or is interwoven in a web of pre- 
 ordained circumstances, yet in either case cer- . 
 tain results are inevitable and a matter of sta- 
 tistic, so in Balzac there is no dodging of fate 
 or shirking of consequences, and he is careful, 
 in sending his own blood tingling through the 
 veins of his creations, to surround them with 
 the same laws to which he is himself subjected.
 
 The Vagaries of Genius. 13 
 
 During his novitiate Balzac prepared a five- 
 act tragedy in blank verse, entitled "Crom- 
 well," a subject which it is curious to note was 
 simultaneously chosen by Victor Hugo. At 
 its completion, a professor of the cole Poly- 
 technique was requested to decide whether the 
 lines contained a sufficient promise of genius 
 to warrant a further pursuit of literary honors 
 on the part of the young aspirant. The play, 
 conscientiously examined, was deemed simply 
 detestable, and the referee adjudged that Balzac 
 might do what he would, but that literature was 
 certainly not his vocation. 
 
 From this decision there was no present ap- 
 peal ; and while his mother and sisters begged 
 him to engage in some other occupation, his 
 father assured him that he would suppress his 
 allowance should he persist in his intentions. 
 Another perhaps would have yielded, but his 
 pride and belief in his destiny made his reso- 
 lution unalterable, and Balzac was left in soli- 
 tary sadness to meditate on the coquetries of 
 the Muse. 
 
 " I delighted," he says in " La Peau du Cha- 
 grin," " in the thought that I should live in the 
 midst of tumultuous Paris in an inaccessible 
 sphere of work and silence, in a world of my 
 own, of books and ideas, where like the chrys 
 alis I should build a tomb only to emerge again 
 brilliant and famous.
 
 14 Balzac. 
 
 " I took the chances of dying to live. In re- 
 ducing existence to its actual needs, I found 
 that three sous for charcuterie prevented me 
 from dying of hunger and preserved my mind 
 in a state of singular lucidity, while enabling 
 me at the same time to observe the wonderful 
 effects which diet produces on the imagina- 
 tion. My lodging cost three sous a day, I 
 burned at night three sous' worth of oil, and for 
 two sous more I heated my room with char- 
 coal : and in this manner I lived in my aerial 
 sepulchre, working night and day with such 
 pleasure that study seemed the most beautiful 
 theme, the happiest solution, of existence. The 
 calm and silence necessary to the student 
 possess an indescribable something which is as 
 sweet and intoxicating as love, and study it- 
 self seems to lend a sort of magic to all that 
 surrounds us. The forlorn desk on which I 
 wrote, my piano, my bed, my chair, the zigzags 
 of the wall-paper, all these things became as 
 though animated and humble friends, the silent 
 accomplices of my future. Many a time I have 
 communicated my soul to them in a glance, 
 and often in looking at the broken moulding 
 I encountered new developments of thought, 
 some striking proof of my system, or words 
 which I considered peculiarly fitted to express 
 ideas almost untranslatable." 
 
 Balzac had not as yet any settled plan of
 
 The Vagaries of Genius. 15 
 
 work, but he tried his hand, while forming his 
 style, at a quantity of comic operas, dramas, 
 comedies, and romances, none of which, how- 
 ever, were accepted save by the gutter's sneer- 
 ing fatalist, the ragpicker. 
 
 After many fruitless attempts and knocks at 
 many a door, Balzac succeeded at last in find- 
 ing a publisher, but of a type seen only in 
 opera bouffe, who proffered in payment of a 
 romance a promissory note with a year to run. 
 Balzac of course had no choice. He wished 
 to appear in print. The bargain was concluded, 
 and the " He'ritiere de Birague " was produced. 
 Then, under various pseudonyms, such as Lord 
 R'hoone, the anagram of Honore, Dom Rago, 
 M. de Viellergld, and Horace de Saint-Aubin, 
 he produced a quantity of novels somewhat 
 after the style of Pegault Lebrun, and yet so 
 diverse in treatment that one of them, " Wann- 
 Chlore," l was attributed to a luminary of the 
 Romantic school, and another, " Annette et le 
 Criminel," was suppressed by the censorship. 
 Some of these books, whose paternity he al- 
 ways denied, have since been collected under 
 the title of " (Euvres de Jeunesse," but of the 
 greater part no trace remains. 
 
 Exhausted by privations and worn with con- 
 tinued study, Balzac was obliged to return to 
 his family, then established at Villeparisis, 
 1 The present title is Jane la Pale.
 
 1 6 Balzac. 
 
 where, broken in mind and health, he sank into 
 an almost hopeless dejection. 
 
 "Is this what you term life," he wrote 1 to 
 his sister, " this involuntary rotation and per- 
 petual return of the same things ? I am in the 
 springtide of a flowerless life, and I long to 
 have some charm thrown over my chill exist- 
 ence ; for of what use is fortune and pleasure 
 when youth is gone ? Of what use is the ac- 
 tor's gown if he play no longer his part ? Old 
 age is a man who has dined and looks at others 
 eat ; and I, I am young, and I hunger before 
 an empty plate Laura, Laura, shall I, then, 
 never realize my two immense desires, to be 
 celebrated and to be loved ? " 
 
 But Balzac soon wearied of this plaintive in- 
 activity, and, fertile in projects, conceived the 
 plan of printing Moliere complete in one vol- 
 ume, and of following it with similar editions 
 of the French classics. When these had ap- 
 peared, he proposed, like Richardson, to pro- 
 duce his own works, and his illuminous im- 
 agination immediately foresaw new Clarissas 
 issuing from the press. 
 
 The necessary working capital he procured 
 from his family, who, though far from rich, 
 were none the less glad to aid him in an enter- 
 prise for which literature would be abandoned 
 and a legitimate business adopted. 
 
 1 Correspondence de H. de Balxac. Calmann Levy, 
 Paris, 1877.
 
 The Vagaries of Genius. 17 
 
 But after the publication of Moliere and La 
 Fontaine, in each of which he inserted an elab- 
 orate and original introduction, he was obliged, 
 through the cabals of the other publishers, to 
 relinquish his plan, while burdened at the same 
 time with a load of debt which oppressed al- 
 most every hour of his after life. 
 
 He was now absolutely without resources. 
 The expense of a few sous attending the car- 
 riage of a letter, an omnibus ride, anything, in 
 fact, which demanded the outlay of ready 
 money, he was obliged to forego, and even re- 
 mained in his garret that he might preserve 
 as long as possible the only shoes which he 
 owned. 
 
 " My sole possessions," he wrote to his sis- 
 ter, " are my books, which I cannot part with, 
 and my good taste, which unfortunately for the 
 rich cannot be bought. If I were in prison I 
 should be happier; life then would cost me 
 nothing, and in any event I could not be more 
 of a captive than I am." 
 
 But the pecuniary loss which he had sus- 
 tained, and which amounted to about 120,000 
 francs, served but as a stimulus to renewed ac- 
 tivity ; and resolving that he would recover from 
 the printing press all that it had robbed him of, 
 he commenced to seek some undiscovered vein 
 of literary treasure, and in 1829 brought out 
 "Le Dernier Chouan," the first romance which 
 2
 
 1 8 Balzac. 
 
 he considered worthy to bear his own name. Its 
 ferocity and passion attracted great attention, 
 and the public became at once favorably dis- 
 posed toward him ; but when, a few months 
 later, the " Physiologic du Mariage " appeared, 
 its success was not only instantaneous, but Bal- 
 zac was heralded as a new Moliere. He now 
 emerged from quasi obscurity into the white 
 light of fame. Publishers were submissive, 
 praise was unstinted. He had realized the first 
 of his immense desires, and had it not been for 
 his weight of debt he might perhaps have been 
 able to realize the other, but his time was not 
 his own. He labored, if possible, more inces- 
 santly than ever, conceived the plan of the 
 " Come'die Humaine," and from that time up to 
 almost the day of his death produced a series 
 of masterpieces which in point of interest and 
 erudition form the most gigantic monument in 
 the history of modern literature. 
 
 His work accompanied him wherever he went. 
 He dreamed of it ; he wrote while he ate ; he 
 traveled over the better part of Europe, and 
 wrote while he traveled ; he composed in the 
 omnibus and in the street ; and had he had a 
 mistress he would, in all probability, have fol- 
 lowed the example of Baudelaire, and composed 
 in her arms. Thoroughly conscientious, he 
 invariably visited the place where the scenes of 
 a drama were to be located. " I am going to
 
 The Vagaries of Genius. 19 
 
 Alengon," he would say ; "you know Mile. Cor- 
 mon 1 lives there;" or, "I am off for Greno- 
 ble ; there is where M. Benassis 2 lives : " for it 
 should be remembered that not only were Bal- 
 zac's characters as realistically vivid to him as 
 are the hallucinations of a neurosthene, but 
 he invariably spoke of them as another would 
 of friends and acquaintances. " Let us talk of 
 realities," he one day said to Jules Sandeau, 
 who had been speaking to him of an invalid rel- 
 ative, " let us talk about ' Eugdnie Grandet ; ' " 
 and at another time, when his sister asked for 
 some information about Captain Jordy, 3 Balzac 
 replied very simply, "*'! never knew the man 
 before he came to Nemours, but if he interests 
 you, I will try to learn something of him." It 
 was a long time before he was able to find a 
 suitable husband for Mile. Camille Grandlieu, 
 and rejected all who were suggested to him. 
 "They are not in the same set," he would say. 
 " Chance alone can supply her with a husband, 
 and chance is a commodity which a novelist 
 should use but sparingly. Reality alone justi- 
 fies the improbable, and the probable alone is 
 permitted to us." But Mile, de Grandlieu was 
 not destined to braid St. Catherine's tresses, 
 and afterwards, to Balzac's great delight, found 
 
 1 Les Rivalitts. 
 
 2 Le Mtdecin de Campagne. 
 8 Ursule Mirouet.
 
 2O Balzac. 
 
 a suitable husband in the person of the young 
 Comte de Restaud, 1 who in spite of his mother's 
 derelictions 2 was otherwise a very acceptable 
 suitor. 
 
 After the place of his novel had been visited, 
 viewed from every aspect, the customs noted and 
 the localisms acquired, Balzac would return to 
 Paris, shut himself up in a garret, the garret 
 has its poetry, and for weeks and sometimes 
 months at a time he would not only disappear 
 entirely from view, but all trace of him would 
 be lost. 
 
 At other times, he would lodge under an as- 
 sumed name, which he imparted only to his most 
 intimate friends. " My address," he wrote to 
 Madame Carraud in 1834, "is always Madame 
 Veuve Durand, 13, Rue des Batailles ;" and in 
 1837, he wrote to Dablin, "To see the Widow 
 Durand, a name must be given. Yours is on 
 the list." 
 
 " The house," Gautier wrote, 8 " of the Widow 
 Durand was as well guarded as the Garden of 
 the Hesperides. Two or three passwords were 
 exacted, and that they might not become vul- 
 garized they were frequently changed. Among 
 others, I recall the following. On telling the 
 
 1 Gobseck. 
 * Le Pb-e Goriot. 
 
 8 Honort de Balzac, par Theophile Gautier. Un vol- 
 ume in-i8, chez Poulet-Malanis, 1859.
 
 The Vagaries of Genius. 21 
 
 janitor that the season for prunes had arrived, 
 the visitor was permitted to cross the thresh- 
 old ; to the servant who prowled about the 
 head of the stairway, it was necessary to mur- 
 mur ' I bring laces from Belgium ; ' and on as- 
 suring the valet de chambre that Madame 
 Bertrand was in excellent health, the visitor 
 was ushered into the great man's presence." 
 
 It was in the Rue des Batailles that the 
 famous boudoir of the " Fille aux Yeux d'Or " 
 actually existed ; and though its luxury would 
 not appear unusual to-day, it was, nevertheless, 
 a source of continual wonder to his Bohemian 
 friends, and his own description of it is not de- 
 void of interest : l 
 
 " One side of the boudoir formed a graceful 
 semicircle, while in the centre of the other, 
 which was perfectly square, there shone a man- 
 tel-piece of marble and gold. The door, which 
 was concealed behind a rich portiere of tapestry, 
 was directly in front of the window. 
 
 " In the horseshoe was a Turkish divan, fifty 
 feet in circumference and as high as a bed. 
 The covering was of white cashmere tufted with 
 bows of black and lilac silk, which were disposed 
 as at the angles of a lozenge. 
 
 " The back of this immense bed rose several 
 inches above a pile of cushions, which added to 
 the general effect by their coloring and artistic 
 arrangement. 
 
 1 La Fille aux Yeux d'Or.
 
 22 Balzac. 
 
 " The boudoir was hung with a red material, 
 over which was draped an Indian muslin fluted 
 like a Corinthian column by a piping alter- 
 nately hollow and round, and bordered at top 
 and bottom by a band of lilac embroidered 
 with black arabesques. Beneath the muslin the 
 red became pink, and this delicate shading was 
 repeated in the window curtains, which were of 
 Indian muslin lined with pink silk and orna- 
 mented with a fringe of black and lilac. 
 
 " At equal distances on the wall above the 
 divan were six sockets of silver-gilt, each of 
 which supported two candles, while from the 
 centre of the ceiling hung a highly polished 
 lustre of the same material. 
 
 " The carpet was like a camel's-hair shawl, 
 and seemed a mute reminder of the poetry of 
 Persia. The furniture was covered with white 
 cashmere relieved by lilac and black. The 
 clock and candelabras were of gold and marble. 
 The one table which the boudoir contained was 
 covered with white cashmere, while all about 
 were jardinieres of white and red roses." 
 
 Behind the semicircle was a secret passage, 
 at one end of which was an iron cot and at the 
 other a desk ; and here it was that Balzac, se- 
 cure from intrusion, worked and composed at 
 his ease. 
 
 To return, however, to the Widow Durand. 
 In 1838 he wrote to Madame Hanska, the 
 lady who subsequently became his wife :
 
 The Vagaries of Genius. 23 
 
 "The Widow Durand is dead. She was 
 killed by the contemptible conduct of the daily 
 papers, who have betrayed a secret which should 
 have been sacred to every man of honor." 
 
 After this misfortune Balzac installed himself 
 openly at Les Jardies, a country house which 
 he had built at Ville d'Avray, and where he 
 was, as he expressed it, " like the lantern of 
 Demosthenes, and not, as every one else says, 
 of Diogenes ; " but when, a year or two later, 
 he took up his residence in the Rue Basse, at 
 Passy, he surrounded himself with all his for- 
 mer precautions, instituted a series of counter- 
 signs which he changed weekly, and trans- 
 formed himself into "Madame Bri. . . ." 
 
 When guarded in this way from any intru- 
 sion, Balzac would work from twelve to twenty- 
 one hours a day. His usual hours of sleep were 
 from six in the evening until midnight. Then 
 he would bathe, don the white robe of a Do- 
 minican friar, poise a black skull cap on his 
 head, and, under the influence of coffee and 
 by the light of a dozen candles, would work 
 incessantly till he could work no more. 
 
 His work completed, the lion would forsake 
 his den, and for an evening or two he would 
 be seen in the Loge Infernale at the opera, 
 invariably carrying a massive cane whose head 
 glittered with jewels, and which Madame de 
 Girardin was pleased to imagine rendered him
 
 24 Balzac. 
 
 invisible at will ; 1 or he would make brief ap- 
 paritions in the salons of the literati and no- 
 bility, and then, suddenly, without a word of 
 warning, he would shut himself up as impene- 
 trably as before. 
 
 His manner of writing was stamped with the 
 same eccentricity which characterized all his 
 habits. When a subject which he proposed to 
 treat had been well considered, he would cover 
 thirty or forty sheets with a scaffolding of ideas 
 and phrases, which he then sent off to the 
 printer, who returned them in columns wired 
 and centred on large placards. The work, 
 freed in this way from any personality and its 
 errors at once apparent, was then strengthened 
 and corrected. On a second reading the forty 
 pages grew to a hundred, two hundred on the 
 third, and so on, while on the proof-sheets 
 themselves new lines would start from the be- 
 ginning, the middle, or the end of a phrase ; and 
 if the margins were insufficient, other sheets of 
 paper were pinned or glued to the placards, 
 which were again and again returned, corrected, 
 and reprinted, until the work was at last satis- 
 factorily completed. 
 
 But perhaps the most graphic description 
 of Balzac's manner of writing is the one con- 
 tained in an article by Edouard Ourliac in the 
 
 1 See La Canne de M. de Balzac, par Madame de Girar- 
 din. Dumont, 1838.
 
 The Vagaries of Genius. 25 
 
 "Figaro" for the i5th of December, 1837, of 
 which the following is a free translation : 
 
 THE MISFORTUNES AND ADVENTURES OF CESAR 
 BIROTTEAU BEFORE HIS BIRTH. 
 
 Let us sing, drink, and embr'ace, like the 
 chorus in an opera bouffe ; let us waft kisses 
 in the air and turn on our toes, as they do in 
 the ballet. 
 
 Let us rejoice now that we may. The " Fi- 
 garo," without appearing to have done so, has 
 conquered the elements, all the malefactors, 
 and every sublunary cataclysm. 
 
 The " Figaro " has conquered Cdsar Birot- 
 teau. 
 
 Never did the angered gods, never did Juno, 
 Neptune, M. de Rambuteau, or the prefect of 
 the police, oppose against Jason, Theseus, or 
 the wayfarers of the capital, greater obstacles, 
 monsters, ruins, dragons, demolitions, than these 
 two unhappy octavos. We have them at last, 
 and we know their cost. 
 
 The public will have but the trouble to read 
 them, though that should count as a pleasure. 
 
 As to M. de Balzac, twenty days of labor, 
 two reams of paper, another masterpiece, that 
 counts as nothing. 
 
 Whatever else it may be considered, it is at 
 least a typographical exploit and a worthy ex- 
 ample of literary and commercial heroism.
 
 26 Balzac. 
 
 Writer, publisher, and printer, all deserve the 
 praise of their countrymen. 
 
 Posterity will gossip about the binders, and 
 our grand-nephews will regret that they do not 
 know the names of the apprentices. 
 
 I regret it myself, otherwise I would tell 
 them. 
 
 The "Figaro" promised the book for the 
 i5th of December, and M. de Balzac began it 
 on the i yth of November. 
 
 M. de Balzac and the " Figaro " have the 
 singular habit of keeping their word. 
 
 The printing-press was prepared, and pawed 
 the ground like an excited charger. 
 
 M. de Balzac sent immediately two hundred 
 sheets, scribbled in five nights of fever. 
 
 Every one knows how he writes. It was an 
 outline, a chaos, an apocalypse, a Hindu poem. 
 
 The office paled. The time was short, the 
 writing unheard of. The monster was trans- 
 formed and translated as nearly as possible 
 into familiar signs. No one could make head 
 or tail of it. Back it went to the author. The 
 author sent back the first two proofs glued on 
 enormous placards. 
 
 It was frightful, it was pitiful. From each 
 sign, from each printed word, shot a penstroke, 
 gleaming and gliding like a sky-rocket, and 
 bursting at the extremity in a luminous fire 
 of phrases, epithets, substantives, underlined,
 
 The Vagaries of Genius. 27 
 
 crossed, intermingled, erased, and superposed. 
 Its aspect was simply dazzling. 
 
 Fancy four or five hundred arabesques of 
 this kind, interlacing, knotted together, climb- 
 ing and slipping from one margin to another 
 and from the bottom to the top. 
 
 Fancy twelve geographical maps entangling 
 cities, rivers, and mountains in the same confu- 
 sion, a skein harassed by a cat, all the hiero- 
 glyphics of the Pharonian dynasty, or twenty 
 fireworks exploding at once. 
 
 The office then was far from gay. The type- 
 setters beat their breasts, the presses groaned, 
 the proof-readers tore their hair and the ap- 
 prentices became howling idiots. The most 
 intelligent recognized the Persian alphabet, 
 others the Madagascan, while one or two con- 
 sidered them to be the symbolic characters of 
 Vishnu. 
 
 They worked on chance and by the grace of 
 God. 
 
 The next day M. de Balzac sent back two 
 pages of the purest Chinese. It was then the 
 ist of December. A generous typesetter of- 
 fered to blow out his brains. Then other 
 sheets were brought, written in the most legible 
 Siamese. Three compositors lost their sight 
 and the little French that they knew. 
 
 The proofs were sent back seven consecutive 
 times ; then, a few symptoms of excellent French
 
 28 Balzac. 
 
 appeared, and there was even noticed a certain 
 connection between the phrases ; but the day 
 was fast approaching, and we felt that the book 
 would never appear. 
 
 Desolation was at its height, and it was at 
 this point that the work became further compli- 
 cated by an admirable concourse of calamities. 
 
 At the time when haste was the greatest, the 
 miserable being who that night carried the 
 proof-sheets to M. de Balzac was waylaid and 
 robbed. 
 
 M. de Balzac had had the forethought to es- 
 tablish himself at Chaillot. The miserable be- 
 ing screamed and yelled. The bandits took to 
 their heels. One proof-sheet was found at 
 Neuilly, another in an orchard, a third descend- 
 ing the Seine. It is certain that they were 
 thrown away only on, account of their illegi- 
 bility. Misfortune has its advantages. 
 
 The proofs were recovered, but the night was 
 lost. There were cries and gnashing of teeth. 
 The end was fast approaching. However, the 
 typesetters took courage and the workmen took 
 the bit in their teeth. The office galloped. 
 The compositors foamed at the mouth, the 
 presses ravened, the binders were on springs, 
 the apprentices danced with excitement, the 
 proof-reader shook like an epileptic, and the 
 foreman had convulsions. The office was a 
 cage of palsied lunatics.
 
 The Vagaries of Genius. 29 
 
 The work was again taken in hand, and M. de 
 Balzac and the " Figaro " have kept their word. 
 
 " Ce*sar Birotteau " will see the light of day 
 on the 1 5th of December. We have it now, 
 and we hold it tight. The office is armed, in- 
 sured, and barricaded. Smoking is not per- 
 mitted. There are lightning-rods on the roof, 
 and mounted guards at the door. 
 
 Every precaution has been taken against ac- 
 cidents and the ardor of our subscribers. 
 
 At this moment " C^sar Birotteau " is a work 
 in two volumes, an immense tableau, an entire 
 poem, composed, written, and corrected fifteen 
 times by M. de Balzac in twenty days, and de- 
 ciphered, disentangled, and reprinted fifteen 
 times in the same period. It may be added 
 that M. de Balzac kept forty other workmen 
 busy with something else at another office. 
 
 We will not now consider the value of the 
 work. 
 
 It may be everything, or but a masterpiece. 
 
 The names of Balzac's characters are all 
 taken from real life; for, like Dickens, his the- 
 ory was that names which were invented gave 
 no life to imaginary creations, and, as did the 
 English novelist, he gathered many of them 
 from the signboards in the street. His joy at 
 the discovery of Matifat was almost as great as 
 his delight in finding Cardot. He found the
 
 30 Balzac. 
 
 former in the Rue de la Perle, in the Marais. " I 
 can see him now," he said ; " he will have the 
 pallid face of a cat. But Cardot is different : he 
 will be dry as a bone, hasty and ill-tempered." 
 
 In 1840, Balzac proposed to write for the 
 " Revue Parisienne " a periodical which, it 
 may be explained, appeared but three times, and 
 whose three numbers Balzac wrote entirely 
 the story of a man of genius, who, used as a 
 tool by others, died through the ingratitude of 
 those whom he had raised to magnificent posi- 
 tions, and who had then abandoned him to 
 poverty and want. 
 
 Such a character needed a name propor- 
 tioned to his destiny ; a name which explained 
 and announced him as clearly as the cannon- 
 ball announces the cannon ; a name which 
 would be peculiarly his own, and would reflect 
 his face, his figure, his voice, his past, his fu- 
 ture, his genius, his passions, his misfortunes, 
 and his glory. 
 
 But this supernatural alliance of man and 
 name was not immediately discoverable, and 
 Balzac, who had put into circulation as many 
 cognomens as are contained in the " Almanach 
 de Gotha," expressed himself incapable of man- 
 ufacturing it. A name, he considered, could no 
 more be fabricated than could granite or mar- 
 ble. They were all three the work of time and 
 revolutions. They made themselves.
 
 The Vagaries of Genius. 3 1 
 
 AS a last and supreme resource, therefore, 
 he set out one day, in company with Le'on Goz- 
 lan, on a journey, in search of a baptismal sign- 
 board for his hero ; and from the Barriere de 
 Pfitoile to the summits of Montmartre they 
 zigzagged across Paris, subjecting every name 
 they encountered to the closest scrutiny. 
 
 Thousands of names were examined, ana- 
 lyzed, and rejected, until at last Gozlan, utterly 
 worn out, refused to walk another step. 
 
 Balzac looked at him, it is to be supposed, 
 very much as Columbus looked at his muti- 
 nous sailors, and by force of entreaties ob- 
 tained, not three days' grace, but three streets 
 more. 
 
 In the first two nothing was found, but at 
 the extremity of the third Balzac suddenly 
 changed color, and cried in a voice broken by 
 emotion, 
 
 " There, there ! Read that name ! " 
 
 Above a narrow, oblong door, which opened 
 on a sombre courtyard, there hung a sign which 
 bore for device the name of Marcas. 
 
 " Our journey is at an end ! " Balzac ex- 
 claimed ; " it terminates in a blaze of glory. 
 The name of my hero shall be Marcas. Mar- 
 cas contains the philosopher, the statesman, 
 and the poet. I will call him Z. Marcas, and 
 thereby add to his name a flame, a tiara, and ai 
 star. Nothing could be better. I wonder, how-
 
 32 Balzac. 
 
 ever, who this Marcas is; surely some great 
 artist." 
 
 " He is a tailor," Gozlan brutally replied; 
 " there is another sign of his in the court- 
 yard." 
 
 Balzac looked deeply chagrined. 
 
 " No matter," he said ; " he merited a better 
 fate. If I seem annoyed, it is not that I am 
 lacking in respect for tailors in general, but 
 because his calling reminds me of certain debts 
 and a few protested notes." 
 
 A day or two later the " Revue Parisienne " 
 appeared, and with it the story of Z. Marcas, 
 now forming part of the "Scenes de la Vie 
 Politique " and containing the following mono- 
 graph : 
 
 "A certain harmony existed between the 
 man and the name. This Z. with which Mar- 
 cas was preceded, which was to be seen on 
 the address of his letters, and with which he 
 always completed his signature, this last let- 
 ter of the alphabet presented to the imagina- 
 tion a something which was indescribably fatal. 
 
 " Marcas ! Repeat over to yourself this name, 
 composed of two syllables : does it not seem to 
 contain a sinister significance ? does it not seem 
 as though its owner were born to be martyred. 
 
 " Though weird and wild, this name has 
 nevertheless the right to descend to posterity : 
 it is well composed, it is easily pronounced,
 
 The Vagaries of Genius. 33 
 
 and possesses the brevity required of famous 
 names. Is it not as soft as it is bizarre ? but 
 does it not also seem unfinished ? 
 
 " I would not dare to affirm that destiny is 
 uninfluenced by a name, for between the deeds 
 of men and their names there are inexplicable 
 affinities and visible discords which at once 
 astonish and surprise. But this subject will 
 some day assuredly form part of the occult 
 sciences. 
 
 " Does not the Z. present a thwarted and con- 
 tradicted appearance ? does it not represent 
 the contingent and fantastic zigzags of a tor- 
 mented life ? What ill wind can have blown on 
 this letter that in every language to which it is 
 admitted commands barely fifty words ! Mar- 
 cas' Christian name was Zepherin. Saint Ze*- 
 pherin is highly venerated in Brittany. Marcas 
 was a Breton. 
 
 " Examine the name again. Z. Marcas ! The 
 entire existence of the man is contained in the 
 fantastic assemblage of these seven letters. 
 Seven ! the most significant of the cabalistic 
 numbers. Marcas died at the age of thirty- 
 five ; his life therefore was composed of but 
 seven lustres. Marcas ! Does not the sound 
 bring to you the idea of something precious, 
 broken in a noiseless fall ? " 
 
 The fatality which Balzac conceived as at- 
 taching to Marcas was 'by no means limited to
 
 34 Balzac. 
 
 this imaginary creation. It followed him into 
 real life, and was at one time a source of such 
 serious preoccupation that he stood one even- 
 ing for two hours in the square of the Chateau 
 d'Eau confidently awaiting some fortunate oc- 
 currence, and like Gautier in " Mademoiselle de 
 Maupin " he awoke on certain days in a state 
 of great agitation, trembling at every noise, and 
 convinced that the happiness of his life was 
 somehow at stake. 
 
 These extraordinary sensations naturally led 
 to a belief in the supernatural; and as his 
 mother, who was also interested in the ab- 
 normal, was acquainted with all the celebrated 
 mesmerists and mediums of the day, he was 
 readily furnished with opportunities of experi- 
 menting in magnetism and clairvoyance. His 
 charming story of "Ursule Mirouet" unques- 
 tionably proves that he subsequently became 
 a firm believer in that occult electricity which 
 is variously known as the Theopcea of the an- 
 cients, the Akasa of the modern Hindu, and 
 the psychic force of Sergeant Cox ; while his 
 account of the soul - projection of " Seraphita '' 
 is vivid enough to satisfy the most exact- 
 ing hierophant, and would have passed him, 
 initiate, into the brotherhood of the Theoso- 
 phists. 
 
 But perhaps the most curious evidence of his 
 every-day faith in divination is that contained
 
 The Vagaries of Genius. 35 
 
 in the two following extracts from his corre- 
 spondence : 
 
 TO M. CHAPELAIN, PHYSICIAN. 
 
 PARIS, May, 1832. 
 
 SIR, I am attracted by the power of som- 
 nambulism, and wonder why you have not 
 sought to obtain from some lucid subject the 
 causes of this disaster. 1 
 
 Science is interested therein, and its dis- 
 covery would be an eternal honor to us. 
 
 Had I not been ill for a week past I would 
 have ascended to the honors of practice, and 
 endeavored to convince myself whether the 
 power of a somnambulist was limited or in- 
 finite. 
 
 The second extract is from a letter addressed 
 to his mother a year later : 
 
 " I send you herewith two pieces of flannel 
 which I have worn on the body. Take them to 
 M. Chapelain, and when he has examined the 
 first, ask of him the cause and position of the 
 malady 2 and how it should be treated. See 
 that everything is clearly explained. Then 
 with the second piece ask the why and where- 
 fore of the blister ordered in the precedent 
 consultation. 
 
 i The cholera. 
 
 3 Stomachic disorders, caused by the abuse of coffee.
 
 36 Balzac. 
 
 "Be careful to keep the flannels well wrapped 
 up, that the emanations may not be disturbed." 
 
 Balzac's hatred of journalists was intense, 
 and from Sainte-Beuve down to the most in- 
 significant penny-a-liner all were enveloped in 
 the same superb contempt. 
 
 No branch of the profession was exempt 
 from this antipathy, and critics and feuilleto- 
 nistes shared alike in his wholesale condemna- 
 tion : 
 
 " They want my scalp, do they, these Mohi- 
 cans of the press ! Bah ! I will drink out of 
 their skulls." 
 
 Drink he did, indeed, and long delicious 
 draughts, at that ; and in picking up with the 
 point of his pen the venality, envy, and petty 
 spites of the trade, he drew in the " Illusions 
 Perdues," in which Jules Janin figures in the 
 transparent disguise of tienne Lousteau, a 
 picture of journalism which was as faithfully 
 unpleasant as it was pitying and contemptuous. 
 In this respect, however, it is well to state that 
 no one was as indifferent to the opinion of the 
 press as Balzac himself. He rarely, if ever, 
 read the criticisms on his books, and left them, 
 in the consciousness of their worth, to find their 
 level unaided. 
 
 One of the causes of his disdain of every- 
 thing which smacked of journalism was this: 
 He had engaged to write " Seraphita " for the
 
 The Vagaries of Genius. 37 
 
 " Revue des Deux Mondes," and shortly after 
 the story had been delivered he learned that it 
 was published at St. Petersburg. Thinking, as 
 was but natural, that the editor had been the 
 victim of some audacious theft, he hastened to 
 tell him what he had heard ; and his astonish- 
 ment may be readily imagined when he was 
 informed that the Russian edition had ap- 
 peared with the sanction of the editor himself, 
 who not only insisted that he had a perfect 
 right to do as he pleased with the manuscript, 
 but positively refused to make any indemnity. 
 Thereupon, Balzac, in spite of the remon- 
 strances of his friends, who pointed out that 
 any contest with the " Revue," whose word was 
 law, would inevitably result in the closing of 
 its columns to him, began a lawsuit, alleging 
 that, independent of the pecuniary loss which 
 he suffered, a precedent of this kind, once es- 
 tablished, would in the future be highly preju- 
 dicial, not only to him, but to all his confreres. 
 Much to his amazement, however, the defend- 
 ant appeared in court with a list of signatures 
 of almost all of those whom he had sought to 
 defend at his own risk and peril, who attested 
 that from a literary as well as from an ethical 
 standpoint they considered the action of the 
 editor of the " Revue des Deux Mondes " as 
 eminently right and proper. 
 The law was, none the less, perfectly clear.
 
 38 Balzac. 
 
 Balzac won the suit, and with it a host of ene- 
 mies, whose hatred was so vigorous that it 
 barely abated, even after his death. Their in- 
 sults delighted him. " Fire away," he would 
 say ; " the armor is strong. Your abuse is an 
 advertisement ; your praise would lull the pub- 
 lic to sleep, but your diatribes wake them up. 
 Besides, you hit the mark sometimes, and every 
 fault you signalize I correct, which in the end is 
 so much gained." 
 
 Among the host of enemies thus aroused 
 were those who, not content with denying his 
 genius, advanced their artillery into private 
 life, and painted him in the possession of every 
 vice in the criminal statutes ; and it is from the 
 falsehoods of these guerrilleros that all the stu- 
 pidities which have been told concerning him 
 found their primal gestation. Not only his mo- 
 rality, his honesty, his sobriety, were attacked, 
 but even his name was denied to him. The de 
 was declared not only an affectation, but a 
 theft ; and when some one said to him, in allu- 
 sion thereto, " But you are no connection of the 
 De Balzac d'Entragues," " Ah ! am I not ? " he 
 answered placidly. "Well, then, so much the 
 worse for them."
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE COMEDIE HUMAINE. 
 
 " One would say he had read the inscription on the gates of Busy* 
 rane, ' Be bold ; ' and on the second gate, 'Be bold, be bold, 
 and evermore be bold ; ' and then again had paused well at the third 
 gate, ' Be not too bold.' " EMERSON, Plato. 
 
 THE general plan and outline of the " Come'- 
 die Humaine " originated in a comparison be- 
 tween humanity and animal existence. That 
 which Buffon had achieved in zoology, Balzac 
 proposed to accomplish in moral science, and 
 the habits and customs as well as the vices and 
 virtues of his contemporaries found in him a 
 secretary whose inventory offers to posterity 
 an elaborate insight into the every-day life of 
 France in the nineteenth century, and realizes 
 for their future curiosity that work which the 
 ancient monarchies have neglected to bequeath 
 to us as their own civilizations. 
 
 But the pictures of two or three thousand of 
 the most striking figures of an epoch required, 
 in a general history of society, not only frames 
 but galleries, and the work therefore is divided 
 into,
 
 4O Balzac. 
 
 Scenes de la Vie Privee. 
 
 Scenes de la Vie de Province. 
 
 Scenes de la Vie Parisienne. 
 
 Scenes de la Vie Politique. 
 
 Scenes de la Vie de Campagne. 
 
 These six subdivisions are grouped under the 
 general title of " fitudes de Mceurs," and in 
 them the attempt has been made to examine 
 and explain the general causes of earthly hap- 
 piness and misery, as demonstrated in the re- 
 sults obtainable in the practice of the great 
 principles of order and mortality, or in the self- 
 ish abandonment to purely personal interests. 
 
 Happiness, Balzac considered, consisted in 
 the exercise of our faculties as applied to reali- 
 ties. But inasmuch as its principles vary with 
 each latitude, and ideas of right and wrong find 
 their modifications in the climate, he concluded 
 that morals and convictions were valueless 
 terms, and that happiness was to be found, first, 
 in violent emotions which undermine existence ; 
 second, in regular occupations functionating 
 like mechanism ; or, lastly, in the study of the 
 laws of nature and in the application of the 
 lessons thereby derived. 
 
 In his treatment of this subject he has pre- 
 pared a complete history of the effects of the 
 agitation of social existence, and each of the 
 foregoing divisions represents a particular as- 
 pect of life.
 
 The Come'die Humaine. 41 
 
 In the " Scenes de la Vie Priv6e," life is 
 represented between the last developments of 
 childhood and the first calculations of virility. 
 These scenes contain tableaux of the emotions 
 and undefined sensations combined with pic- 
 tures of the errors committed through ignorance 
 of the exigencies of the world. 
 
 The " Scenes de la Vie de Province " repre- 
 sents that phase of existence in which pas- 
 sions, calculations, and ideas take the place of 
 sensations, impulses, and illusions. The in- 
 stincts of the young man of twenty are gener- 
 ous ; at thirty he calculates and turns egotist. 
 These scenes therefore initiate the reader into 
 the thousand aspects of the transition through 
 which a man passes when abandoning the 
 thoughtless impulses of adolescence for the 
 politic attitudes of manhood. Life becomes 
 serious : positive interests jostle with violent 
 passions, disillusions begin, the social machin- 
 ery is revealed, and from the shock of moral 
 or pecuniary interests the crime bursts in the 
 midst of the most tranquil household. 
 
 Herein are unveiled the petty annoyances 
 by whose periodicity a poignant interest is con- 
 centrated in the slightest detail of existence. 
 Herein are also exposed the petty rivalries, the 
 jealousies born of vicinage, and the family 
 worries, whose increasing force degrades and 
 weakens the most resolute will. The charm of
 
 42 Balzac. 
 
 dreams escapes ; the prosaic and the matter of 
 fact alone exist ; woman reasons, and no longer 
 feels ; she calculates where before she gave. 
 Life is now ripened and shaded. 
 
 In the " Scenes de la Vie Parisienne " the 
 questions are enlarged, and existence painted 
 in bold outlines gradually arrives at the fron- 
 tiers of decrepitude. Herein purity of senti- 
 ment is exceptional : it is broken in the play of 
 interests and scattered by the mechanism of 
 the world. Virtue is calumniated, innocence is 
 purchased. Passions become vices, emotions 
 ruinous gratifications ; everything is analyzed, 
 bought, and sold. Life is a bazaar ; humanity 
 has but two forms, that of the deceiver and the 
 deceived ; it is a struggle and a combat, and 
 the victor is he who best throttles society and 
 moulds it to his own ends. The death of rel- 
 atives is awaited ; the honest man is a simple- 
 ton ; generosity is a means, religion a govern- 
 mental necessity, probity a policy ; everything 
 is marketable; absurdity is an advertisement, 
 ridicule a passport, and youth, which has lived 
 a hundred years, insults old age. 
 
 These scenes close the tableaux of individual 
 existence, and their three frameworks contain 
 representations of youth, manhood, and old age. 
 First the bloom of life, the expansion of the 
 soul, and the radiance of love ; then come the 
 calculations, the transformation of affection
 
 The Com/die Humaine. 43 
 
 into passion ; and, lastly, the accumulation of 
 interests and the continual satisfaction of the 
 senses joined to the inevitable weariness of 
 mind and body. 
 
 Nothing but that which affects the individual 
 proper has herein been treated, and the frag- 
 ments of the " Scenes de la Vie Politique " ex- 
 press, in consequence, a wider range of thought. 
 In these pages the actors represent the inter- 
 est of the masses, and place themselves above 
 those laws to which the types in the preceding 
 series were subjected. The foregoing divisions 
 described the constant antagonism of thought 
 and sentiment, but in these scenes thought is 
 an organizing force and sentiment is completely 
 abolished. They are, however, incomplete, as 
 are also the " Scenes de la Vie Militaire," in 
 which Balzac proposed to represent the action 
 as taking place, not in an apartment, but on 
 the battle-field ; not in the struggle of man with 
 man, but in the concussion of France and Eu- 
 rope, in the slaughter of the conquered and the 
 paeans of the victors. 
 
 After these pages, whose completion was pre- 
 vented by his sudden death, the calm and peace- 
 ful pictures of the " Scenes de la Vie de Cam- 
 pagne " follow in orderly sequence. They 
 represent rest after exertion, landscapes after 
 interiors, the hush of the country after the up- 
 roar of the city, the cicatrice after the wound.
 
 44 Balzac. 
 
 This last division contains the same interests 
 and the same struggles, but weakened now by 
 lack of contact, like passions grown dull in sol- 
 itude. It is the twilight of a busy day, a sum- 
 mer evening solemn with sombre shadows. It 
 contains the purest characters and the applica- 
 tion of the great principles of order, morality, 
 and religion, and its actors, worn with the fa- 
 tigues of the world, mingle complacently with 
 the innocence of childhood. 1 
 
 Thus completed, the entire work has its 
 geography and its own genealogy, its localities 
 and their concomitants, its personages and 
 their deeds. It has its own armorial, its nobil- 
 ity and middle class, its artisans, its peasants, 
 and its army. It is a world in itself. But 
 its most striking feature is the admirable unity 
 preserved throughout; and this unity is un- 
 doubtedly due to a suggestion derived from 
 the works of Sir Walter Scott, whom Balzac 
 considered as a gifted sculptor who chiseled 
 magnificent figures and draped them with gen- 
 ius and sublimity, but, while presenting the 
 seductive effects of a marvelous analysis, left 
 them lacking in synthesis and totally unrelated. 
 
 " The Waverley Novels," he said, 2 " resemble 
 the Muse'e de la Rue des Petits-Augustins, in 
 
 1 See Introduction by M. Felix Davin to the first edi- 
 tion of the Comedie Humaine. 
 
 2 Correspondance de H. de Balzac.
 
 The Comtdie Humaine. 45 
 
 which each object, while magnificent in design, 
 relates but to itself. Genius is complete 
 only when to the faculty of creating it joins 
 the power of coordinating its creations. The 
 gifts of observation and description are in 
 themselves insufficient; they must tend to a 
 certain result. The Scotch bard was possessed 
 of too clear a vision not to have understood 
 this axiom, but its understanding assuredly 
 came too late." To this reflection the unity of 
 the " Comedie Humaine " is probably due ; and 
 that it may not be objected that certain of its 
 passages are unrelated to the others, it is well 
 to note that Balzac died too suddenly to be able 
 to connect the broken threads, which in any 
 event are but few and far between. 
 
 But the task of rendering his work at once 
 interesting and instructive was one of much 
 greater difficulty than that of Scott's, who drew 
 his characters from former days, when every 
 class of society was clearly defined, and clothed 
 them from a wardrobe opulent with historical 
 effects ; whereas Balzac was obliged to offer in 
 clear relief the almost imperceptible differences 
 of the types of yesterday and to-day, that 
 through an equality of fortune and education 
 have destroyed the contrasts which once ex- 
 isted between the different degrees of the social 
 order. Aided, however, by that peculiar intu- 
 ition which never forsook him, he chose from
 
 46 Balzac. 
 
 among the physiognomies of his epoch an as- 
 sortment of those fugitive traits which are im- 
 perceptible to the eyes of the vulgar ; and in 
 scrutinizing face after face, attentive to the 
 changes of expression and inflections of voice, 
 he was enabled to present a series of individ- 
 ualities which are far more realistic than those 
 of his illustrious predecessor. 
 
 After displaying in the " fitudes de Mceurs " 
 all the moral and physical transformations 
 through which mankind passes, and after de- 
 scribing the social effects of their natural or 
 civil positions, Balzac sought in the " fitudes 
 Philosophiques " to demonstrate the causes of 
 these effects; and while the first part of the 
 " Comedie Humaine " contains but a series of 
 individualities typified in the treatment of his 
 subject, in the second part are to be found 
 the same types individualized : as, for example, 
 where in the " fitudes de Mceurs " Grandet is 
 purely and simply a miser, avarice in the 
 " fitudes Philosophiques " is incarnated in the 
 person of Maitre Cornelius, and the subject, like 
 a sponge, gains in weight what it loses in 
 breadth. 
 
 The " fitudes Philosophiques " is the fruit 
 of analyzed comparisons of all the works which 
 the philosophers of antiquity and the special- 
 ists of his day had produced on the intellect ; 
 and starting with the famous axiom of Jean
 
 The Comtdie Humaine. 47 
 
 Jacques Rousseau, that " 1'homme qui pense 
 est un animal deprave," an idea which, as is 
 well known, found its poetic interpretation in 
 Byron's " Manfred," and its dramatic aspect in 
 the " Faust " of Goethe, Balzac proceeds to 
 prove that ideas and sentiments are simply 
 dissolvents of a greater or less activity; and 
 taking as his premises the admitted fact that 
 instincts violently excited by factitious or for- 
 tuitous circumstances produce unconsciousness 
 and even death, and also that thought, when 
 augmented by the transitory force of passion, 
 may become a poison or a dagger, he infers, 
 from the ravages produced by the intellect, 
 that thought is the most active agent in the 
 disorganization of man, and consequently of 
 society. " Consider," he says in " Louis Lam- 
 bert," " the difference between man who desires 
 nothing and lives like a plant for a hundred 
 years, and the creating artist who suffers early 
 death. Where the sun is, there is thought and 
 brevity of existence ; where the cold is, there is 
 torpor and longevity." Then, after considering 
 man as a simple organization, he brandishes the 
 proposition that vitality decreases in exact pro- 
 portion to the strength of desire and the dissi- 
 pation of thought, and leads the reader, there- 
 with, through the gradual development of his 
 theory, which is first attacked in " La Peau du 
 Chagrin." This weird and fantastic production,
 
 48 Balzac. 
 
 in which skepticism and the supernatural join 
 hands, represents the ravages of thought and 
 the supreme expression of egotism as seared 
 by the hot iron of civilization. 
 
 In " La Recherche de 1' Absolu," the theme 
 is continued, but viewed in a broader and more 
 comprehensive light. In "La Peau du Cha- 
 grin," the individual is destroyed by the force 
 of desire. In "La Recherche de 1'Absolu," 
 the pursuit of an idea annihilates an entire 
 family. The first is the world of pleasure, an 
 epoch in itself ; the second is the world of sci- 
 ence, and glitters with brilliant hypotheses. 
 In both instances, an idea, gradually strength- 
 ened, becomes a passion and a disorganizing 
 force. In " L' Adieu," happiness, exalted to 
 the highest degree, becomes a destructive 
 agency. In'"Le Requisitionnaire," a mother 
 is killed by the violence of maternal affection. 
 In " El Verdugo," a father is slain by his son 
 that a title may be preserved. In " Le Drame 
 au Bord de la Mer," a son is slain by his 
 father that an hereditary instinct may be de- 
 stroyed. In " Maitre Cornelius," avarice kills 
 the miser. In "Le Chef d'CEuvre Inconnu," 
 art kills the artist. In " Gambara," the com- 
 poser is crazed by his own conceptions. In 
 " L'Enfant Maudit," terror is the destroyer, and 
 the subject treated herein finds a natural and 
 logical sequence in the " Auberge Rouge." In
 
 The Comtdie Humaine. 49 
 
 " Les Proscrits," the sentiment of religion be- 
 comes the destroyer, and in " Seraphita " the 
 same idea is more vividly presented. " Cesar 
 Birotteau," an existence untroubled by misery, 
 is, through sudden good fortune, cut off as by 
 a scythe. In the " figlise," the agent is in- 
 credulity, but in " Louis Lambert " is to be 
 found the most severe deduction from the fun- 
 damental proposition in that it represents the 
 thinker killed by thought. 
 
 The destructive power of the mind and im- 
 agination, from the Neronian conflagration to 
 the suicide of Castlereagh and Chatterton, the 
 aphasia of Emerson, and the insanity of Tour- 
 gdnieff, is too well known and too thoroughly 
 understood to need further commentary in 
 these pages ; and in connection with this it 
 need but be said that, while the attraction of 
 gravity had been witnessed by countless gen- 
 erations, as it remained to Newton to formulate 
 the obvious propositions of cause and effect, so 
 in this branch of mental science, whose results 
 have been patent since the beginning of his- 
 tory, a Balzac was necessary for the full eluci- 
 dation of the subject, and for the proper pres- 
 entation of the conclusions derived from the 
 psycho-mental evidence of ages. 
 
 After having, in the "Eludes de Mceurs," 
 described society in every aspect, and demon- 
 strated in the " Eludes Philosophiques " all the 
 4
 
 50 Balzac. 
 
 underlying causes of the general results, Balzac 
 proposed in the third and last division of the 
 " Come'die Humaine," namely, in the " Eludes 
 Analytiques," to examine the principles upon 
 <flrhich the first two rest. 
 
 This last division, however, is one of the 
 few unfinished windows of his Aladdin's pal- 
 ace, for, out of the six volumes which it was to 
 contain, two only were written before death in- 
 tervened. These two works, the " Physiolo- 
 gic du Mariage " and the " Petites Miseres de 
 la Vie Conjugale," are a series of duos between 
 husband and wife, augmented at times by the 
 tenor notes of the amant. The first is dedi- 
 cated to the reader, and contains the decep- 
 tions of the husband ; the second, those of the 
 wife. At once malicious and diabolically witty, 
 these two books are as delicately analytical as 
 the deductions of Leuwenhoeck and Swammer- 
 dam, and abound with that peculiar though re- 
 freshing condiment which is generally known 
 as Gallic salt. 
 
 It is to be regretted that these two books, 
 the first of which was published at the outset 
 of the author's career, and the second towards 
 the close of his life, were not strengthened and 
 augmented by the others with which he pro- 
 posed to accompany them, and whose subjects 
 and titles namely, " Anatomic des Corps 
 Enseignants," " Pathologic de la Vie Sociale,"
 
 The Comtdie Humaine. 51 
 
 " Monographic de la Vertu," " Dialogue Phi- 
 losophique et Politique sur la Perfection du 
 XIXe Siecle " have alone descended tp us ', 
 for this vein of literary treasure can never be 
 profitably worked save by another Balzac or a 
 modern Aristophanes. 
 
 It was in 1844 that Balzac said, " The first 
 half of the present century will be found to 
 have been greatly influenced by four men, 
 Napoleon, Cuvier, O'Connell, and myself. The 
 first lived on the blood of Europe, the second 
 espoused the globe, the third became the in- 
 carnation of an entire race, while I shall have 
 carried a complete society in my brain." 
 
 Though almost another half century has now 
 elapsed since these words were uttered, it would 
 seem that the influence which he was then 
 conscious of exerting is even more vigorous 
 than before. The characters which he painted 
 formed, it is true, part of a Paris now dead and 
 forgotten, but the types have survived, and 
 the lessons which he deduced therefrom are 
 as eminently instructive now as they were in 
 the days when he wrote ; and while, taking the 
 world at large as the groundwork of his edifice, 
 man was necessarily but the detail, he has, in 
 his description thereof, painted him in every 
 phase, consequent and inconsequent, neither 
 completely good nor completely vicious, log- 
 ical at times, and sometimes great, but inces-
 
 52 Balzac. 
 
 santly opposing his own interests to the laws 
 of society in that gigantic struggle of customs 
 and sentiments which is as inconsistent to-day 
 as it was fifty years ago. 
 
 When the "fiat lux " was pronounced, and 
 man completed, Balzac turned to his natural 
 companion, and in his portraiture of woman 
 not a single type is lacking. Herein he is un- 
 excelled and unsurpassable. That which Eu- 
 ripides considered as the most terrible of all 
 misfortunes, and De Maistre nothing but a 
 beautiful animal, found its most graphic ex- 
 pression through him. As a faithful naturalist, 
 he has, in descending the spiral of civilization, 
 described and classified the femina simplex; 
 but the ideal woman, sublime in her errors, 
 magnificent in her devotion, and royal in her 
 forgiveness, has found her geographer in him. 
 His descriptions of Madame de Beausdant, the 
 Duchesse de Langeais, Madame Firmiani, the 
 Countess in " Colonel Chabert," Madame Clae's, 
 Madame Jules, Madame de Montsauf, Beatrix, 
 and Mademoiselle de Touches comprise woman 
 almost in her entirety ; they are landmarks in 
 psychological study ; and so true to nature are 
 they that their appearance marked a new era 
 in literature. 
 
 It is in these portraits that Balzac is most 
 realistic ; and while a few of the most admira- 
 ble among them are sometimes erring, yet it
 
 The Com/die Humaine. 53 
 
 will be admitted that womankind is not com- 
 posed exclusively of angels ; perfection is often 
 dull, and a fault may be a virtue. By way of 
 contrast, however, he has, in Eugenie Grandet, 
 Madame Firmiani, Madame de la Chanterie, 
 Marguerite Claes, Madame Jules, Agathe Rou- 
 get, Pierrette, Madame Hulot, and Ursule Mi- 
 rouet, not only solved the difficult problem of 
 rendering virtue interesting, but he has created 
 in frames of impeccable beauty a series of irre- 
 proachable Madonnas. 
 
 His revelation of woman is completed in a 
 special and parallel study of love. Love he con- 
 sidered the mainspring of humanity ; without it, 
 religion, history, romance, and art would be use- 
 less ; and he has analyzed, dissected, and ex- 
 plained its every phase, hesitation, palpitation, 
 and tenderness. 
 
 Beyond the scenic effects which he lent to 
 passion, Balzac entered thoroughly into the 
 specialties of trade and profession, and it seems 
 almost incredible that one mind could have grap- 
 pled with the details of the practice of law which 
 are so admirably described in the " Contrat de 
 Mariage," in his portrait of Derville the law- 
 yer, Peerquin the notary, and the proceedings 
 in "Cdsar Birotteau," while imagining such 
 types as Vautrin, who dominated Paris from 
 the depths of the galleys, or La Fille aux yeux 
 d'or languishing in her octagonal boudoir.
 
 54 Balzac. 
 
 As Bianchou he is alienist and physician ; in 
 Dr. Mirouet he is medium and mesmerist ; he is 
 a miser in Grandet and discounter in Gobseck; 
 he is vicar at Tours and old maid at Issoudun. 
 None better than he has described that class 
 of fascinating scoundrels of which Rastignac is 
 the type, nor painted more clearly the heralds 
 of ennui and philosophers of satiety than he 
 has done in De Marsay and Maxime de Trailles. 
 In " Les Deux Poetes " he is printer and man- 
 ufacturer of paper ; in the " Cousin Pons " he 
 presents the flower of an imagination intoxi- 
 cated with the master paintings of great artists ; 
 while in the " Illusions Perdues " the journalist 
 is dissected and the publisher decomposed. 
 
 In the veins of his characters there is not a 
 drop of ink ; they live, move, and have their 
 being, and their eyelashes are as delicately fin- 
 ished as their epigrams. 
 
 Starting from the mud and vermin of Pari- 
 sian by-ways, and ascending to the steps of the 
 throne, Balzac garnered every possible type, no 
 two of which are similar ; each is original and 
 all are profoundly human ; and while the dregs 
 of London are not further removed from the 
 splendors of Teheran than is mother Nourrison 
 from the Due de Grandlieu, yet Balzac's intui- 
 tion divined the one as clearly as he described 
 the other. 
 
 In his transitions and contrasts, however,
 
 The Comtdie Humaine. 55 
 
 there is as little abruptness as there is in the 
 marriage of the blue of the skies with the green 
 of a landscape ; changes follow in orderly and 
 natural sequence, and the mind of the reader is 
 only confused at the multiplicity of his attain- 
 ments, which present in turn houses and cos- 
 tumes, interiors and countries, intermingled 
 with plot, science, religion, politics, agriculture, 
 erudition, mysticism, and wit. 
 
 Balzac was also a delicious landscape painter, 
 and his scenes from Brittany in "Les Chou- 
 ans," his landscapes of Touraine and particu- 
 larly that of Vouvay in " La Femme de Trente 
 Ans," the grand sketch of Norway in " Sera- 
 phita," that of the Mediterranean island in 
 " La Duchesse de Langeais," are cited by Da- 
 vin as masterpieces of graphic description. 
 
 The resources of Balzac's genius are perhaps 
 as clearly exhibited in " Eugdnie Grandet " as 
 in any of his other works, and the appearance 
 of this romance gave the keynote to the present 
 Realistic school. " Eugenie Grandet " is the 
 conquest of absolute truth in art. It is the 
 drama applied to the most simple events of 
 life ; the fusion of the trivial and the sublime, 
 the pathetic and the grotesque. It is a pic- 
 ture of life as it is, and the model of what a 
 novel should be. 
 
 The motif here commenced is admirably con- 
 tinued in " Le Curd de Tours," which contains
 
 56 Balzac. 
 
 none of those elements heretofore considered 
 indispensable in the manufacture of fiction. 
 From these pages love and marriage are ban- 
 ished ; there is barely an event to be mentioned, 
 yet the dumb, tortuous struggle between the 
 two priests is at once clear cut and peculiarly 
 vivid. Herein the most humble trivialities of 
 the subject are elevated and dramatized, and to 
 attentive eyes this book will perhaps contain 
 the secret of Balzac's superiority ; for as no role 
 is poor to a good actor, Balzac in this story 
 demonstrates that nothing was small beneath 
 his pen. 
 
 The interiors of Gerard Dow, with their vast 
 chimneys lit by flickering flames, their polished 
 floors, walls hung with tapestries, their sculp- 
 tured cornices and quaint and curious furniture, 
 their shadowed backgrounds and doors which 
 seem about to open upon some mysterious 
 room, are to be found in " La Recherche de 
 1'Absolu," in which the opulent detail of the 
 Flemish school is equaled, if not surpassed. 
 Here, as in " Eugenie Grandet," the drama is 
 formed of the fusion of the trivial and the sub- 
 lime, and for the proper presentation of the sub- 
 ject he extracted from the past of chemistry its 
 possibilities for the future. 
 
 This work, as is the case with almost all his 
 others, contains evidence of the most obstinate 
 researches ; and in this respect it may be noted
 
 The Com t die Humaine. 57 
 
 that the majority of his books are the result of 
 patient labor and prolonged meditations. 
 
 " Ursule Mirouet," one of his most chaste 
 conceptions, is the fruit of exhaustive experi- 
 ments in clairvoyance. " Seraphita " was born 
 of the suggestions of a hundred works of the 
 mystics. " Cdsar Birotteau " is a text-book on 
 bankruptcy. 
 
 The production of " Gambara " and " Mas- 
 simillia Doni " necessitated not only a thorough 
 musical schooling, but vast operatic knowledge, 
 and before attacking his subject Balzac en- 
 gaged a violinist to saturate him with Rossini. 
 " La Grande Breteche " is the essence of the 
 Causes Celebres, and dowered French litera- 
 ture with a new shudder. The " Contrat de 
 Mariage " is a code of legal finesse. 
 
 " Maitre Cornelius," which with the excep- 
 tion of " Catherine de Medicis " contains the 
 only ghosts that he has evoked from the night 
 of the past, is an attempt to rehabilitate Louis 
 XL, and to refute the historical portion of 
 " Quentin Durward." 
 
 " Les Deux Proscrits " was the result of pro- 
 longed meditations on the works of Dante, 
 while " La Derniere Incarnation de Vautrin " 
 is a dictionary of prison slang. 
 
 But the works for which he cared the most 
 and on which he expended the greatest amount 
 of labor were " Louis Lambert " and " Le 
 decin de Campagne."
 
 58 Balzac. 
 
 In " Louis Lambert," he asks whether elec- 
 tricity is not the basis of the particular fluid 
 from which ideas are derived, and proceeds 
 thereupon to consider thought as a complete 
 system similar to that of vegetation ; and after 
 analyzing the birth, life, or death of certain 
 thoughts, 1 he expresses the opinion that ideas 
 and sentiments are endowed with physical 
 properties, such as weight and movement ; and 
 after fortifying it with striking examples of 
 expectation, fear, anger, and determination, he 
 concludes that facts do not exist, that ideas 
 alone endure, and that volition is a material 
 force, similar to that of steam. 
 
 In spite of the amount of labor which a work 
 of this kind necessitated, a still greater amount 
 was expended on " Le Medecin de Campagne," 
 of which every line and every phrase was 
 weighed, rewritten, and corrected again and 
 again. In this work he attempted to grasp the 
 simple beauty of the Scriptures, to surpass the 
 " Vicar of Wakefield," and to put the " Imita- 
 tion of Christ " into action ; but its pages were 
 written above the level of the ordinary reader, 
 and in spite of its profundity of thought it is 
 perhaps the least known of all his writings. 
 
 The romance, however, which gained for him 
 the greatest favor in the boudoirs of Europe 
 was the " Memoires de Deux Jeunes Mariees," 
 1 See also La Peau du Chagrin.
 
 The Comtdie Humaine. 59 
 
 which is one of the few works in which happy 
 and satisfied love has been successfully de- 
 picted. In Rousseau there was too much rhet- 
 oric, in Richardson too much pretension ; Scott 
 was hampered by English prudery, and is con- 
 sequently chill as an icicle ; the poets as a rule 
 were too extravagant and too much engrossed 
 in metaphors ; and it remained to Balzac to 
 describe the insensate fears and unreasoning 
 jealousies of that passion of which many speak, 
 but few have known. 
 
 The masterful handling of these widely con- 
 trasting subjects shows not only an equipment 
 of profound penetration and power of observa- 
 tion, but also an erudition at once varied and 
 luminous. His works are those of an anato- 
 mist from whom nothing escaped, a psychol- 
 ogist from whom nothing was hidden, and a 
 realist who described all. Joined thereto was 
 the gift of adjective : in this he is the Ben- 
 venuto Cellini of literature, for his words seem 
 less like symbols of speech than awakeners of 
 trains of thought. 
 
 His originality is entirely undisputed. It 
 would not be a difficult task to point out the 
 buried hands which modeled the grandiose fig- 
 ure of Hugo, and the tombs ransacked by 
 Shakespeare are still open to inspection ; but 
 Balzac was totally without literary ancestry. 
 The influence of Scott and Hoffmann, at that
 
 60 Balzac. 
 
 time enormous, possibly presided at the con- 
 ception of some of his earlier works, and 
 brought to them strength from the massiveness 
 of the one and coloring from the unexpected- 
 ness of the other ; they were perhaps the tran- 
 sitory models of a necessary apprenticeship, in 
 which the masters were soon to be neglected 
 and surpassed. Aside from this early school- 
 ing, Balzac \s, indebted to no one, neither to 
 the Greeks nor to the Romans, to the Italian 
 school, to the Trouveres of feudal France nor 
 to the Minnesingers of the Middle Ages ; and 
 even where Hoffmann is not, he at least is en- 
 tirely modern and absolutely original; for the 
 fantastic effects of the former were drawn from 
 Micromegas, who had already extracted them 
 from Cyrano de Bergerac, a well into which, 
 it may be noted, Voltaire himself has dipped ; 
 and in this respect, that it may not be objected 
 that the " Contes Drolatiques " are but a con- 
 tinuation of Rabelais, Beroalde de Verville, and 
 the Reine de Navarre, it is well to point out 
 that where but the female was seen by these 
 writers Balzac discovered the woman, a differ- 
 ence surely as great as between the bottle and 
 the wine. 
 
 And here perhaps a word may be said in re- 
 gard to the present Realistic school, of which 
 he was the founder, and whose influence is 
 daily becoming more noticeable and apparent
 
 The Comldie Humaine. 6l 
 
 The term present Realistic school is used ad- 
 visedly ; for though it was only about twenty-five 
 or thirty years ago that realism began to be 
 seriously considered, it is erroneous to suppose 
 that it is of purely modern origin. For realism 
 as expressed in literature is but the sentiment 
 of the obvious and the true ; and in the days 
 when art was a splendid novelty, the first poets, 
 as also the first painters, sought their inspira- 
 tions directly from the primal source of all re- 
 ality, that is, from Nature herself. 
 
 Nature, therefore, is the mother of realism, 
 artistically considered, and Homer was its first 
 exponent ; for not only was the actuality of his 
 subject never neglected for the purely ideal, but 
 it was also a first experience. 
 
 But the impressions produced by the real un- 
 dergo in the mere transcription certain modifi- 
 cations, which are greater or less according to 
 the organization of the exponent ; and while 
 some of the subject's delicate aroma invaria- 
 bly escapes in its passage, however transitory, 
 from brain to canvas, the proper conservation 
 of what remains constitutes the work of art 
 on whose opulence succeeding generations are 
 nourished, and from which, in turn, other im- 
 pressions are derived ; and where the original 
 exponent has artistically transcribed that which 
 he has seen and felt, his followers express not 
 that which reality suggests to them, but that
 
 62 Balzac. 
 
 which Nature suggested to him, and the original 
 types of the one become the modified models 
 of the others, until in descending the centuries 
 reality becomes unrecognizable, and art and 
 literature through constant copying of copies 
 become at last enervated and meaningless. 
 
 When, therefore, the poetry of the Greeks 
 was becoming entangled in the subtleties of ver- 
 sification, it received a fresh and vigorous im- 
 pulsion from Theocritus, who, disregarding the 
 set rules of his contemporaries, and returning to 
 the direct observation of reality, expressed not 
 only the ideal, as poetry should, but also Nature 
 in her most humble and familiar details, and 
 represented his Shepherdess as beautiful but 
 unkempt, the odor of cattle about her, and with 
 her hands hardened by contact with the horns 
 of the steers. Pictures of the obvious and the 
 true should represent, therefore, not only the 
 beautiful but the repulsive, not only that which 
 is unpleasant but that which is agreeable ; and 
 the Shepherdess of Theocritus, in her unkempt 
 beauty, would be as untrue to nature had she 
 not the odor of the cattle about her as are the 
 patched and powdered bergeres with which Wat- 
 teau charmed the Pompadour. 
 
 Nature loves and abounds in contrasts, as 
 witness the toad squatting beneath the rose 
 bush ; and while either may afford a separate 
 study, yet the union of the two is necessary in 
 a faithful picture of what actually exists.
 
 The Com/die Humaine. 63 
 
 When, therefore, Villon broke away from the 
 stilted and flowery madrigals of the school of 
 Charles d'Orldans, and sought anew for the 
 simplicity of Nature, he was but continuing 
 Theocritus and paving the way for Diderot and 
 Retif de la Breton ne. The current of opinion, 
 however, was adverse to these writers, and it 
 was not until the early part of the present cen- 
 tury, when the Romantic school, with its van- 
 guards led by Madame de Stae'l and Chateau- 
 briand and with Victor Hugo for its subsequent 
 chief, had succeeded after a terrible struggle in 
 freeing themselves from the established rules 
 and conventional phrasing of the classicists and 
 had raised the standard of liberty in art, that 
 many of the prejudices which the Academicians 
 had engendered disappeared, and the ground, 
 swept clean and clear, was prepared for the ad- 
 vent of a new teacher. 
 
 It was at this propitious moment that Balzac, 
 already famous through his " Physiologic du Ma- 
 riage," presented his credentials in the " Peau 
 du Chagrin," and with an audacity unparalleled 
 in literature represented his hero as troubled not 
 only about the state of his mistress' affections, 
 but also as to whether he would have money 
 enough to pay her fare in a cab. 
 
 The stupefaction and indignation of the pur- 
 ists at this unheard-of infraction of their for- 
 mal style were indescribable, but the Romantic
 
 64 Balzac. 
 
 school upheld the innovation, and the new gen- 
 eration applauded the realistic portrayal of the 
 penniless student who went to an evening en- 
 tertainment on the points of his shoes, while 
 dreading a splash of mud more than a shot 
 from a pistol. 
 
 In this respect, therefore, the "Peau du 
 Chagrin " marked the first return in the nine- 
 teenth century to the real and to the true; 
 it gave a fresh impulse to an expiring litera- 
 ture, and constituted the corner-stone of the 
 Realistic school, which has found such able 
 exponents not only in the De Goncourts and 
 Flaubert, but in Dickens, Thackeray, Tourge*- 
 nieff, and a host of lesser lights. 
 
 But Balzac's incontestable superiority over 
 other writers consists in his descriptions of the 
 habits and customs of every-day life, and in his 
 perception and rendition of the delicate and 
 innumerable shadings which accompany their 
 thousand complications, in the scenes of pri- 
 vate life which he depicted, in the little mys- 
 terious dramas which take place every day in 
 every social sphere, and especially in his por- 
 traits. The exactitude of the transcription, the 
 delicacy of the shading, and the profusion and 
 realism of detail are such that it would almost 
 seem as though reality itself had been trans- 
 ported and placed before the eyes of the reader. 
 
 The third and last number of the " Revue
 
 The Uomtdie Humaine. 65 
 
 Parisienne" contains a criticism of Balzac's on 
 the " Chartreuse de Parme," in which, in al- 
 luding to the author, he says, " Stendhal is one 
 of the most remarkable writers of the day, but 
 in his work form is neglected ; he writes as a 
 bird sings." 
 
 Form, the absence of which he noticed in 
 Stendhal, was to him a source of continued care 
 and preoccupation, and he would often spend 
 an hour in burnishing a single sentence. With 
 all his facility of conception, execution was ex- 
 ceedingly laborious, and his admiration of Gau- 
 tier's ability to dash off without an erasure a 
 warm-colored and impeccable article, while un- 
 bounded, was not unmixed with a certain con- 
 viction that the work would be improved by a 
 thorough revision. 
 
 As has been seen, Balzac spent almost ten 
 years in forming his hand and chastening his 
 style, and the courage which he then mani- 
 fested was equaled only by the patience with 
 which he sought to improve the coloring of his 
 afterwork. As a grammarian he is unsurpassed, 
 and the faults which are noticeable in many 
 of his works are for the most part purely 
 clerical, and due to his mania for writing his 
 books on proof-sheets instead of in manuscript. 
 As an innovator he was of course attacked, 
 all innovators are, and Sainte-Beuve, whose 
 manner of writing Balzac had characterized as 
 5
 
 66 Balzac. 
 
 macaroni, continually ridiculed his style and 
 form of expression. In this respect, however, 
 it should be remembered that at the time of 
 Balzac's advent into literature the French lan- 
 guage had been passed through a strainer so 
 fine that no terms remained to express any- 
 thing beyond the purely conventional ; and 
 Balzac, who was thoroughly impressed with Ar- 
 istotle's idea that the inexpressible does not 
 exist, was almost obliged to create a language 
 of his own ; and in his endeavor to express 
 himself with realistic clearness he seized upon 
 every suggestive technicality which he encoun- 
 tered in science, in the green room, the alcoves 
 of the hospital, or the by-ways of Paris, and 
 built a vocabulary from all that was most ex- 
 pressive in the different strata of existence. It 
 was he who invented " chic " and many other 
 terms of an equally felicitous nature. 
 
 " As for neologisms, as the critics call them," 
 he said, "who, I would like to know, has a 
 right to give alms to a language, unless it be 
 its writers ? Of course I create words, but my 
 parvenus will become nobles in time." 
 
 But through discipline and constant atten- 
 tion Balzac's style assumed at last the un- 
 dulatory rhythm of the Romantic school, and 
 became not only picturesque, mathematical, 
 and peculiarly incisive, but the model of many 
 of the prominent writers of to-day.
 
 The Comtdie Humaine. 67 
 
 The attacks of the critics were not confined, 
 however, to his style and form of expression ; 
 charges of personal as well as literary immoral- 
 ity were brought against him, and it is curious 
 to note that while Venice reveled through an 
 entire carnival in a masquerade of his charac- 
 ters his books were prohibited in Rome and 
 Madrid. 
 
 Personally considered, Balzac was much more 
 of a Benedictine than a disciple of Rabelais ; 
 even his student days were those of an ancho- 
 rite, and purity of life was to him not only a 
 refinement, but a basis indispensable to ele- 
 vation of thought, and an essential in the pro- 
 duction of any work of enduring value. Dis- 
 order he regarded as fatal to talent, and Gau- 
 tier says that he preached what he practiced, 
 and recommended to him that he should visit 
 his Dulcinea but once a year, and then only 
 for half an hour. " Write to her, if you wish 
 to," he said; "it forms the style." In his 
 books he has, it is true, agreeably painted the 
 seductions of vice, but its contagious and de- 
 structive effects are rigorously exposed ; and 
 through all the struggles of his characters pro- 
 bity, purity, and self-denial are alone triumph- 
 ant. In what, then, does his immorality consist ? 
 In his vast conception, it was necessary, he ex- 
 plained, 1 here to signalize an abuse and here 
 
 1 Preface to the Comtdie Humaine.
 
 68 Balzac. 
 
 to point out an evil ; but every writer who has 
 an aim and who breaks a fresh lance in the 
 domain of thought is invariably considered im- 
 moral. Socrates was immoral ; Christ was im- 
 moral : both were persecuted by the people 
 whom they reformed. 
 
 In describing in the " Comedie Humaine " 
 all the elements of society, in grasping it in the 
 immensity of its agitations, it was inevitable 
 that one part should expose more wickedness 
 than virtue, that one part of the fresco repre- 
 sented a culpable group : hence the critic has 
 brought his charge of immorality without ob- 
 serving the morality of other parts destined to 
 form a perfect contrast. And in this partic- 
 ular we must observe that the most consci- 
 entious moralists are agreed that society is 
 incapable of producing as many good as evil 
 actions, yet in the " Comedie Humaine " the 
 virtuous characters exceed in number those of 
 a reprehensible disposition. 
 
 Blamable actions, faults, crimes, from the 
 slightest to the most grave, find therein an in- 
 variable punishment, human or divine, evident 
 or secret ; and while it would be impossible to 
 clothe two or three thousand characters in 
 white and orange blossoms, it must be evident 
 even to the most careless observer that the 
 Marneffes, male and female, the Hulots, Bri- 
 deaus e tutti quanti, are not imagined, they 
 are simply described.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE BUSKIN AND THE SOCK. 
 
 " Le genie, c'est la patience." BUFFON. 
 
 IN the story of " Albert Savarus " Balzac 
 drew a picture of the hero which, with slight 
 modifications, might have served as his own. 
 
 He was tall and somewhat stout. His hands 
 were those of a prelate, and his head was that 
 of a Nero. His hair was black and dense, and 
 his forehead, furrowed by sabre-cuts of thought, 
 was high and massive. His complexion was 
 of an olive hue ; his nose was prominent and 
 slightly arched ; his mouth was sympathetic, 
 and his chin firm. But his most remarkable 
 characteristic was the expression of his gold- 
 brown eyes, which, eloquent with interrogations 
 and replies, seemed, instead of receiving light 
 from without, to project jets of interior flame. 
 
 His many vicissitudes had endowed him with 
 an air of such calm tranquillity as might have 
 disconcerted a thunderbolt ; while his voice, at 
 once penetrating and soft, had the charm at- 
 tributed to Talma's. 
 
 In conversation persuasive and magnetic, he
 
 7O Balzac. 
 
 held his auditors breathless in a torrent of 
 words and gesture. He convinced almost at 
 will, and his imagination, once unbridled, was 
 sufficient to cause a vertigo. " He frightens 
 me," said Gerard de Nerval ; " he is enough to 
 drive one crazy." 
 
 " He possessed," Gautier said, " a swing, an 
 eloquence, and a brio which were perfectly irre- 
 sistible. Gliding from one subject to another, 
 he would pass from an anecdote to a philosoph- 
 ical reflection, from an observation to a de- 
 scription. As he spoke, his face flushed, his 
 eyes became peculiarly luminous, his voice as- 
 sumed different inflections, while at times he 
 would burst out laughing, amused by the comic 
 apparitions which he saw before describing, 
 and announced, in this way, by a sort of fan- 
 fare, the entrance of his caricatures and witti- 
 cisms. The misfortunes of a precarious exist- 
 ence, the annoyances of debt, fatigue, excessive 
 work, even illness, were unable to change this 
 striking characteristic of continual and Rabe- 
 laisian joviality." 
 
 Friends, enemies, editors, strangers, money- 
 lenders, and usurers, all with whom he came 
 in contact, were fascinated and coerced by the 
 extraordinary magnetism which he exerted 
 without effort, and the most vigorous intellects 
 were bewildered by his projects of fortune and 
 dreams of glory.
 
 The Buskin and the Sock. 71 
 
 Attracted by the mine of wealth which the 
 theatre opens to the popular playwright; and 
 burdened with a real or imaginary weight of 
 debt, from which one or two dramas, if favor- 
 ably received, would free him entirely ; and de- 
 sirous, moreover, of experiencing the delirious 
 intoxication which the plaudits of the gallery 
 bring to the successful dramatist, Balzac's in- 
 flammable imagination became a veritable whirl- 
 wind of plots and epigrams whenever a new 
 play was well received. 
 
 But for the playwright, as for the mechanic, 
 an apprenticeship is obligatory, and, though 
 Balzac's novels contained action and analysis, 
 drama and observation, it was not, as we have 
 seen, until after a long and laborious prepara- 
 tion that he was enabled to attract the attention 
 of the public ; and it is evident that the heights 
 which he then scaled were so fatiguing and 
 time-consuming that his life, wearied by the 
 struggle, was not of sufficient duration to per- 
 mit his winning equal triumphs on the stage. 
 
 From his early schooldays, however, in which, 
 it will be remembered, he commenced a tragedy 
 on the Incas, which was afterwards followed by 
 a drama in blank verse entitled "Cromwell," 
 the stage had possessed an irresistible attrac- 
 tion for him ; and if therein he was not at first 
 successful, it was perhaps from the very cause 
 which brought to him his original popularity,
 
 72 Balzac. 
 
 and the superabundance of his ideas, paradox- 
 ical as it at first appears, was undoubtedly his 
 greatest stumbling-block. 
 
 To imagine a plot was nothing, the scenes 
 were but details, and the outline of a melo- 
 drama was to him the work of as little labor as 
 would be required in the conception of a pleas- 
 ing menu ; but when the general plan was 
 sketched, each scene would suggest a dozen 
 others, and the Coliseum of Vespasian would 
 not have been large enough to present the si- 
 multaneous action which the play, at once inter- 
 minable and impossible, would have demanded. 
 
 Another reason for his lack of immediate 
 success was the jealousy of his colleagues and 
 the hatred of the critics ; and as at that time 
 the existence of a play depended entirely upon 
 the manner in which the first representation 
 was received, it was not very difficult to create 
 a cabal against this usurper, who, not content 
 with his legitimate celebrity, seemed, at the 
 bare mention of a play, to meditate a universal 
 literary monarchy, in which he would reign su- 
 preme ; and while the conquest of both spheres 
 has been effected by Hugo, Voltaire, and others 
 of like ilk, yet these authors were careful to 
 fortify their progress with a book in one hand 
 and a play in the other, whereas it was not 
 until Balzac had reached his apogee that he 
 began a serious attack on the stage.
 
 The Buskin and the Sock. 73 
 
 It was in the year 1840 that Balzac submitted 
 " Vautrin," his first drama, to the director of the 
 Porte-St.-Martin. The play was at once ac- 
 cepted ; for the author's reputation was not 
 only gigantic, but the Porte-St.-Martin had al- 
 most foundered in successive tempests, and to 
 the director, who was as penniless as he was 
 appreciative, the offer was little less than a 
 godsend. An agreement was signed forthwith, 
 and Balzac abandoned Les Jardies for more 
 convenient quarters, where he could attend to 
 the rehearsals and remodel the scenes on the 
 stage itself, which, it may be added, he contin- 
 ued to do up to the very last moment. 
 
 During these preparations, the boulevards 
 were agog with excitement. The actors and 
 the director, accompanied by Balzac's friends, 
 wandered daily from the Boulevard Bonne Nou- 
 velle to Tontoni's and the Cafd Riche, excit- 
 ing the curiosity of the flaneurs by their reti- 
 cence or murmured confidences ; and Balzac's 
 ingress and egress from the theatre were, it is 
 said, watched and waited for by curious crowds. 
 
 Never in the history of the drama had a first 
 representation been so impatiently awaited ; 
 and Balzac, foreseeing the immense sale which 
 the seats would have, bought up the entire 
 house, and then, while endeavoring that the 
 tickets should circulate only among his friends 
 and their acquaintances, sold the better part of 
 it over again at a large advance
 
 74 Balzac. 
 
 " My dear friend," he wrote to Dablin, " if 
 among your acquaintances there are any who 
 wish to assist at the first representation of 
 ' Vautrin,' let me know who they are, as I pre- 
 fer to let the boxes to those whom I know 
 about, rather than to those who are unknown 
 to me. I particularly wish to have handsome 
 women present. The demand for boxes is 
 greater than the supply. The journalists are 
 to be sacrificed." 
 
 To Gozlan he wrote, 
 
 " I have sent you a ticket for the stalls. The 
 rehearsals have almost killed me. You will 
 witness a memorable failure. I have been 
 wrong, I think, to summon the public. 
 
 " Morituri te salutant, Caesar ! " 
 
 Unfortunately, the interval between the sale 
 of the seats and the first representation was 
 sufficiently great to permit of two thirds of the 
 tickets falling into the hands of those who 
 were unknown or hostile to Balzac ; and conse- 
 quently, when the great day arrived, the critics 
 sharpened their knives, and in place of the 
 indulgent friends and handsome women whom 
 Balzac had expected to welcome his play the 
 theatre was crowded with malevolent faces. 
 
 The title-role was taken by Frederic Le- 
 maitre, and while the first three acts were re- 
 ceived without any demonstrations, either of 
 approval or disapprobation, over the fourth
 
 The Buskin and the Sock. 75 
 
 there burst a tempest which, since the birth- 
 night of " Hernani," was unequaled in the an- 
 nals of the stage ; for Lemaitre, reappearing in 
 the costume of a Mexican general, seemed 
 whether by accident or design, it has never 
 been clearly understood to present an insult- 
 ing resemblance to Louis Philippe, whose eld- 
 est son happened to be in one of the most 
 conspicuous boxes. 
 
 The entire house, from pit to gallery, re- 
 echoed with hisses and catcalls. Threats and 
 even blows were exchanged, for here and there, 
 in spite of the general indignation, a few still 
 remained faithful to Balzac. 
 
 Through Lemaitre's eccentricity, the battle 
 was lost and the drama killed. Further repre- 
 sentations were prohibited by the government ; 
 and though, a few days later, M. de Remusat 
 called upon Balzac, and offered in the name of 
 the state an indemnity for the pecuniary loss 
 which he had sustained^ it was haughtily re- 
 fused. " If my play was justly prohibited, 
 there is," he said, " no reason why I should be 
 indemnified ; if it be otherwise, I can accept 
 nothing, unless an indemnity be also made to 
 the manager and actors of the Porte-St.-Mar- 
 tin." 
 
 Two years after the failure of " Vautrin," and 
 entirely unaffected by its sudden collapse, Bal- 
 zac knocked at the door of the Oddon, which
 
 76 Balzac. 
 
 was at that time under the management of Li- 
 reux. By this gentleman Balzac was received 
 with the greatest cordiality ; for while his first 
 play had fallen flat, yet it had fallen with such 
 a crash that, in the lapse of time, it was dif- 
 ficult to distinguish its failure from success. 
 Moreover, the Odeon was bankrupt, and as 
 Balzac, with his customary enthusiasm, offered 
 nothing less than a Golconda in his manuscript, 
 he was feted, caressed, and altogether received 
 with open arms. 
 
 From the office to the green room, from the 
 door-keeper to the scene-shifters, smiles, com- 
 pliments, and welcomes were showered upon 
 him, and he was unanimously requested to 
 read his play at once. As soon, therefore, as 
 the actors were assembled and silence ob- 
 tained, Balzac began to read " Les Ressources 
 de Quinola." At first thick and embarrassed, 
 his voice gradually grew clearer, and expressed 
 the most fugitive undulations of the dialogue. 
 His audience laughed and wept by turns, and 
 Balzac laughed and wept with them ; the en- 
 tire troop was fascinated, and applauded as 
 only actors can. Suddenly, however, at the end 
 of the fourth act, Balzac stopped short, and 
 explained in the simplest and most unaffected 
 manner that, as he had not yet written the 
 fifth, he would be obliged to recite it to them. 
 
 The stupor and surprise of his audience can
 
 The Buskin and the Sock. 77 
 
 be more readily imagined than described : for 
 the fifth act of " Quinola " is the unraveling of 
 all the tangled threads, the union of all the 
 joints ; it is the climax and logical termination 
 of all that has gone before ; and Balzac, as he 
 calmly rolled up his manuscript and tied it 
 with a bit of string, easily, fluently, and unhes- 
 itatingly continued the drama through the six 
 final scenes, and without a break, without a 
 pause, through a torrent of varied intonations, 
 led his listeners by a magnificent tour de force 
 to the very fall of the curtain. 
 
 Lireux was bewildered and entranced. " The 
 rehearsals shall commence to-morrow," he said. 
 " But to what address, M. de Balzac, shall I 
 send the announcements ? " 
 
 " It is unnecessary to send any," Balzac re- 
 plied. " I can come without them." 
 
 " Ah, no, that is impossible. There will be a 
 rehearsal one day, and none the next ; and I 
 never know until the morning at what hour a 
 rehearsal is to take place. What is your ad- 
 dress ? " 
 
 But Balzac had not the least intention of 
 telling where he lived, and either because he 
 was playing hide-and-go-seek with his creditors, 
 or else was at that time possessed of one of the 
 inexplicable manias which caused him at times 
 to keep his habitat a secret even from his most 
 intimate friends, he refused flatly to impart the 
 wished-for information.
 
 78 Balzac. 
 
 " I do not see what we can do," Lireux 
 murmured helplessly, " unless we use a carrier 
 pigeon." 
 
 " I do," replied Balzac, ever fertile in expe- 
 dients. " Listen to me. Send a messenger up 
 the Champs-filysees with the notice every morn- 
 ing at nine o'clock. When he reaches the Arc 
 de 1'fitoile, let him turn to the left, and he will 
 see a man beneath the twentieth tree, who will 
 pretend to be looking up in the branches for a 
 sparrow." 
 
 " A sparrow ? " 
 
 " A sparrow or any other bird." 
 
 " My pigeon, perhaps." 
 
 " Let me continue. Your messenger will ap- 
 proach my sentinel, and will say to him, 'I 
 have it.' Thereupon my sentinel will reply, 
 ' Since you have it, what are you waiting for ? ' 
 Then your messenger will hand the notice to 
 him, and immediately go away, without once 
 looking behind him. I will attend to the rest." 
 
 Lireux saw no objection to this fantastic 
 whim, and contented himself by expressing the 
 hope that if the twentieth tree should be de- 
 stroyed by lightning M. de Balzac would see 
 no insuperable objection to posting his sentinel 
 at the twenty-first. 
 
 " No," Balzac answered, " but I should pre- 
 fer the nineteenth ; the number is more quaint." 
 
 This plan amicably arranged, the actors
 
 The Buskin and the Sock. 79 
 
 agreed upon, and the date of the first represen- 
 tation settled, Balzac proceeded to talk finance. 
 
 " Beside the customary royalty, I wish the 
 entire house for the first three nights." 
 
 " But what shall I get ? " Lireux timidly in- 
 quired. 
 
 " Half the profits, which will be incalculable." 
 
 Lireux reflected for a moment. "Very 
 good," he said ; " I accept." 
 
 From the first rehearsal Balzac recommenced 
 with " Quinola " the treatment to which " Vau- 
 trin " had been subjected. Sometimes a phrase 
 was altered, sometimes a scene, while at oth- 
 ers an entire act was remodeled. That which 
 pleased him one day displeased him the next, 
 and each rehearsal brought fresh corrections 
 and alterations, until the original manuscript 
 was entirely obliterated with erasures and new 
 ideas. 
 
 Besides undergoing the mental and physical 
 labor attendant on these rehearsals, Balzac un- 
 dertook the entire charge of the sale of the 
 seats, or rather the entire charge of refusing 
 seats to all comers ; for the box office was 
 opened merely for form's sake, and tickets were 
 to be had only of Balzac in person. To obtain 
 one was not so much a question of money as 
 of position and influence. The orchestra stalls 
 he reserved for the nobility, the avant-scenes 
 for the court circle ; the boxes in the first gal-
 
 8o Balzac. 
 
 lery were for the ambassadors and plenipoten- 
 tiaries ; the second gallery was for the states- 
 men, the third for the moneyed aristocracy, the 
 fourth for the select bourgeoisie. " As for the 
 critics," he said, "they can buy their seats, if 
 there are any left, and there will be none." 
 
 As a rule, therefore, when any one asked for 
 a box, Balzac would reply, " Too late : last 
 one just sold to the Princesse de Machin and 
 the Grande Duchesse de Chose." During the 
 first few days of the sale, seats were in conse- 
 quence sold at extraordinary prices ; but later 
 on the anxiety to obtain them decreased, and 
 during the week preceding the first perform- 
 ance Balzac was very glad to dispose of them 
 to any one at the regular rates. 
 
 On the 6th of March, 1842, thirteen days be- 
 fore the play was to be performed, he wrote to 
 a friend as follows : 
 
 "DEAR SOFKA, Send me the address of 
 the Princess Constantine Razumovska, that I 
 may learn from her whether she wishes a box. 
 Let me know also whether the two Princesses 
 Troubetsko'i want boxes, whether Krai'eska 
 wishes one, whether the Malakoffs, and the 
 Countess Leon, and the Countess Nariskine, 
 seven boxes in all. I must know, too, whether 
 they want them in the upper or lower tier of 
 the first gallery. I wish the handsome women 
 in front. . . It is a favor to be admitted to
 
 The Buskin and the Sock. 81 
 
 this solemnity. There are at the theatre a 
 hundred and fifty applications for boxes from 
 people whom I do not know and who will get 
 nothing." 
 
 On the 1 2th he wrote to the same person : 
 " The avant-scenes are for the king and the cab- 
 inet ; they take them by the year. I can only 
 give, therefore, to the Princess Troubetsko'i a 
 box in the first gallery, but it is one of the best 
 in the house. . . . The costumes have cost 
 20,000 francs ; the scenery is entirely new. 
 Every one insists that the play is a masterpiece, 
 and that makes me shudder. In any event, it 
 will be a terrible solemnity. Lamartine has 
 asked for a box ; I will place him among the 
 Russians. Every morning I receive thirty or 
 forty applications, but I will have no one whom 
 I do not know about. . . . Tell your Russian 
 friends that I must have the names and ad- 
 dresses, each accompanied by a written and per- 
 sonal recommendation of those of their friends 
 (men) who wish stalls. There are over fifty 
 people a day who come under assumed names 
 and refuse to give their address ; they are ene- 
 mies, who wish to ruin the piece. In a week I 
 shall not know what I am about. We are 
 obliged to observe the most severe precautions. 
 I am intoxicated with the play." 
 
 The severe precautions resulted on the night 
 of the first representation in a half-empty house. 
 6
 
 82 Balzac. 
 
 Few imagined that seats could really be had, 
 and it was even reported that Balzac had been 
 obliged to refuse a seat to the Due de Ne- 
 mours. The amateurs resigned themselves, 
 therefore, almost without a struggle, and deter- 
 mined that as they could not obtain seats for 
 the first performance they would find solace 
 in the second or third ; but on reading the ar- 
 ticles which appeared the next day they felt 
 little need of consolation, for the fate of " Vau- 
 trin " had been repeated, and " Quinola " had 
 fallen flat. The most sympathetic of all the 
 criticisms which then appeared was one con- 
 tained in Le National for the i6th of March, 
 1842. It runs as follows : 
 
 " The subject of M. de Balzac's drama was 
 excellent, but unfortunately, through eccentricity 
 or negligence, he passed but to one side of the 
 idea, without resolutely entering it and extract- 
 ing all its wealth. 
 
 "The Oddon is the theatre of tumultuous 
 representations, but never has this terrible bat- 
 tle-field offered such a conglomeration of ex- 
 clamations and confusing cries. The pit, like a 
 sharp-shooter, took up an ambush, behind the 
 substantives and verbs, and slaughtered the play 
 while it maimed the actors, who, brave though 
 wounded, struggled on to the end with a praise- 
 worthy and melancholy courage. At times the 
 comedy, through its sudden flashes of origi-
 
 The Buskin and the Sock. 83 
 
 nality and abrupt cannonades of wit, seemed 
 about to rout the enemy and wave aloft a tat- 
 tered but victorious flag. The faults, however, 
 were too numerous and the errors too grave, 
 and in spite of many advantages the battle, in 
 the end, was fairly lost." 
 
 But in spite of the derision, insults, and abuse 
 with which the first representation was received, 
 in spite of the financial and dramatic shipwreck, 
 after the commotion had subsided and the au- 
 dience had dispersed, Balzac, superior to des- 
 tiny and indifferent to fate, was found fast 
 asleep and snoring in his box. 1 
 
 In addition to "Vautrin" and- "Quinola," 
 three other plays of Balzac's have been pro- 
 duced, namely, " Pamela Giraud," " La MarS- 
 tre," and " Le Faiseur " (" Mercadet "), of which 
 the first was performed at the Gaietd in Sep- 
 tember, 1843, and enjoyed a moderate suc- 
 cess. Concerning the second, M. Hostein, for- 
 merly director of the Theatre-Historique, has 
 offered some curious information. 2 Balzac, it 
 appears, called upon him one day, and ex- 
 plained that for some time past he had been 
 thinking over an historical drama for the The'- 
 atre-Historique. 
 
 " I shall call it," he said, " ' Pierre et Catha- 
 
 1 Balzac Chez Lui. Leon Gozlan. 
 a Le Figaro, 20 October, 1876.
 
 84 Balzac. 
 
 rine,' Peter the Great and Catharine of Russia, 
 That, I think, would be an excellent subject." 
 
 " Treated by you, it could not be otherwise. 
 But are you far advanced, M. de Balzac ? " 
 
 " It is all here," Balzac answered, tapping his 
 forehead. " I have but to write it out, and, if 
 you care to, the first tableau can be rehearsed 
 the day after to-morrow." 
 
 " Can you give me an idea of this first ta- 
 bleau?" I asked. 
 
 " Certainly. We are in a Russian inn. You 
 can see it from here. In this inn plenty of ac- 
 tion : the troops are passing by ; soldiers come 
 in, drink, chat for a moment, and then off 
 again, but everything is done rapidly. Among 
 the people of the inn is a servant-girl, young, 
 active, and alert, pay attention to her : her fig- 
 ure is good she is not handsome, but she is pe- 
 culiarly attractive. The soldiers jest with her ; 
 she smiles at every one, but her admirers are 
 obliged to be careful, for any familiarity is an- 
 swered with a slap, which is as good as a blow. 
 
 "A soldier enters who is more daring than 
 the others. He is charged with a particular mis- 
 sion ; his time, therefore, is his own. He can 
 drink at his ease and chat with the servant, if 
 she pleases him ; for that matter, she pleases 
 him at first sight, and she likes the soldier, too. 
 ' Here,' he says, catching hold of her arm, 
 'sit down at this table and drink with me.'
 
 The Buskin and the Sock. 85 
 
 "The soldier takes a seat, a-nd the girl does 
 the same. Noticing, however, some objection 
 on the part of the innkeeper, he rises angrily, 
 and strikes the table with his fist. ' If any one 
 interferes with what I do, I will burn the whole 
 shanty down.' 
 
 "And he would have done it, too. He is 
 a good soldier, but terrible with his inferiors. 
 The old innkeeper motions to the girl to obey. 
 The soldier sits down again. He places one 
 arm tenderly about the girl's neck, and then, 
 having drunk deeply, he whispers, ' I will give 
 you a better home than this.' While they are 
 talking together, inattentive to the others, the 
 door at the back opens. An officer enters, and 
 every one rises, with respect. The soldiers 
 make the regulation salute, and stand motion- 
 less. The soldier and the servant alone remain 
 seated. The officer notices this, and grows an- 
 gry. He looks at the girl and advances to- 
 ward the table ; having reached the soldier, he 
 raises his arm, and lets it fall with a terrible 
 force on the shoulder of the poor devil, who 
 bends beneath the shock. 
 
 " ' Up, rascal ! ' the officer cries. ' Go write 
 your name and regiment, and bring the paper 
 to me.' 
 
 " At the first moment, that is to say on re- 
 ceiving the blow, without knowing by whom it 
 had been directed, the soldier turns to avenge
 
 86 Balzac. 
 
 himself; but on recognizing his superior he 
 rises automatically, salutes the officer, and goes 
 to another table to obey the command. The 
 officer, on his part, examines the servant with 
 renewed attention. Her appearance pleases 
 and calms him. The soldier returns, and re- 
 spectfully presents his paper. 
 
 " 'Very good,' the officer says, as he returns 
 it to him. ' Off with you.' 
 
 " The soldier salutes him again, turns right 
 about face, and marches off, without even look- 
 ing at the girl. The officer, however, smiles 
 at her, and she smiles at him. 
 
 " 'A good-looking man,' she thinks. 
 
 " The good-looking man takes the seat pre- 
 viously occupied by the soldier, orders the best 
 that the inn affords, and invites the servant to 
 keep him company. She accepts without hes- 
 itation. The conversation begins, and they 
 are soon quite friendly. A stranger appears 
 at the doorway. He is enveloped in a long 
 cloak. At his entrance, men and women fall 
 on their knees ; some of them even bend their 
 foreheads to the ground. As was the case with 
 the soldier, the officer does not notice what is 
 going on behind him. His seductive compan- 
 ion has captivated him completely. In a mo- 
 ment of enthusiasm, the officer exclaims, ' You 
 are divine ! I will take you with me. You 
 shall have a beautiful apartment, where it will 
 be always warm.'
 
 The Buskin and the Sock. 87 
 
 " From afar the stranger scrutinizes the cou- 
 ple, and, in spite of himself, the girl's sympa- 
 thetic appearance attracts his attention. He 
 approaches the table, and, throwing open his 
 cloak, stands with his arms crossed on his 
 breast. 
 
 " The officer looks around, and, immediately 
 rising, bends on one knee, and stammers these 
 words : 
 
 " ' Your pardon, sire ! ' 
 
 " ' Rise.' 
 
 "Like the soldier, the officer then stands 
 erect, awaiting the good pleasure of his mas- 
 ter. The master, meanwhile, is engaged in 
 looking at the servant, and she, in turn, is 
 fearlessly admiring the all-powerful Czar. 
 
 " 'You may go,' he says to the officer. ' I 
 will keep this woman. She shall have a pal- 
 ace.' 
 
 " It was in this way that Peter the Great met 
 for the first time the woman who afterwards 
 became Catharine of Russia. . . . 
 
 " And now tell me, what do you think of my 
 prologue ? " 
 
 " Very curious, very original ; but the rest of 
 it?" 
 
 "That you shall have in a little while; in 
 the mean time, I am planning an entirely novel 
 mise-en-scene. Russia is for our theatres, and 
 especially for yours, an unexplored and fecund 
 mine. We will be the first to introduce it"
 
 88 Balzac. 
 
 Balzac left me in a state of great enthusiasm, 
 and I built mountains of hopes on the inevita- 
 ble success of " Pierre et Catharine." 
 
 When I saw him again, however, everything 
 had changed. He had given up the Russian 
 drama for the moment, but promised to com- 
 plete it later on. He had, he said, thought it 
 over. It was a colossal undertaking, in which 
 nothing should be neglected; and as the de- 
 tails concerning certain ceremonies were want- 
 ing, he proposed to take a trip to Moscow dur- 
 ing the winter, and study the subject on the 
 ground itself. He begged me, therefore, not 
 to insist upon its immediate production, and 
 offered another play in the place of the one 
 thus postponed. 
 
 In spite of my disappointment, I could, of 
 course, do nothing but submit, and in sheer 
 despair I asked him to tell me something of 
 his new piece. 
 
 " It will be horrible," Balzac contentedly re- 
 plied. 
 
 " How, horrible ? " 
 
 " Understand me : it is not a question of a 
 heavy melodrama, in which the villain burns 
 the house down, and runs the inmates through 
 and through, not at all. My play is to be a 
 simple comedy, in which everything is calm, 
 tranquil, and pleasing. The men play plac- 
 idly at whist, the women laugh and chat over
 
 The Buskin and the Sock. 89 
 
 their worsted work, everything announces har- 
 mony and order; but beneath this calm sur- 
 face passions are at work, and the drama fer- 
 ments, till at last it bursts forth like the flame 
 of a conflagration." 
 
 " You are in your element, sir. Then your 
 plot is found ? " 
 
 "Completely. It was chance, our habitual 
 collaborateur, that furnished me with it. I 
 know a family, whom I will not name, 
 composed of a husband, a daughter by a first 
 marriage, and a stepmother, still young and 
 childless. The two women adore each other. 
 The little attentions of the one and the caress- 
 ing tenderness of the other are admired by 
 all who know them. I, too, thought it charm- 
 ing, at first ; then I became surprised, not that 
 a stepdaughter and stepmother should love 
 each other, for there is nothing unnatural in 
 such an affection, but that they should love 
 each other so dearly. Excess spoils all things. 
 I began, therefore, to observe them more 
 closely, and a few trivial incidents served to 
 confirm my impression that all was not as it 
 appeared. Finally, a few evenings ago, all 
 doubt on the subject was removed. When I 
 entered the drawing-room, it was almost de- 
 serted, and I saw the daughter leaving the 
 room without having seen me ; in so doing, she 
 glanced at her stepmother, and what a look
 
 QO Balzac. 
 
 she gave her ! It was like the thrust of a dag- 
 ger. The stepmother was engaged in putting 
 out the candles on the whist-table. She turned 
 to the girl ; their eyes met, and the most gra- 
 cious of smiles played on their lips. The door 
 closed on the girl, and the expression on the 
 stepmother's face changed suddenly to one of 
 bitter contraction. All this, you will readily 
 understand, passed like a flash of lightning; 
 but I had seen quite enough, and I said to my- 
 self, Here are two creatures who loathe each 
 other. What had happened ? I do not know, 
 and I never want to; but from that moment 
 the entire drama unrolled before me." 
 
 " And for the first representation, you will, 
 of course, offer a box to these ladies, that they 
 may profit by the moral which your play will 
 necessarily point ? " 
 
 "Assuredly I shall do so; and since you 
 mention it, I will be obliged if you will re- 
 serve an extra box for me. I have not, how- 
 ever, the slightest intention of teaching them a 
 lesson, and I consider that a novelist or dram- 
 atist would be highly presumptuous did he 
 write with such an object An author should 
 influence only through instinct or chance. To 
 return, however, to these ladies : that they play 
 a comedy of tenderness is to me beyond a 
 doubt, but as between ourselves matters will, 
 in all probability, rest where they are. My fe-
 
 The Buskin and the Sock. 91 
 
 rocious deductions are but the fruit of my im- 
 agination, and will never, I trust, have any- 
 thing in common with the realities of their 
 existence ; but in the event of their disunion 
 containing the germs of a violent climax, it is 
 very possible that my play will pull them up 
 with a round turn." 
 
 The months rolled on. Balzac went to Rus- 
 sia, and as soon as I heard of his return I 
 called upon him at his residence in the Rue 
 Fortunee. A servant in a red vest took my 
 card, and a few moments later I was ushered 
 into a low-ceilinged room. Balzac was at the 
 other end of it, and cried out from afar, " Here 
 is your manuscript ! " Then I saw my au- 
 thor standing by his work-table, clothed in a 
 long, monkish robe of white linen, with one 
 hand resting on a mass of paper. I ran to 
 him. 
 
 On the first page Balzac had written in large 
 characters, " Gertrude, tragddie bourgeoise en 
 cinq actes, en prose." On the back was the 
 proposed distribution of the play. Melingue 
 was designated for the role of Ferdinand, the 
 lover of the stepmother and daughter ; Madame 
 Dorval was to play Gertrude ; and the other 
 parts were to be filled by Mathis, Barre, etc. 
 
 Beneath these names the author had minutely 
 indicated everything which concerned the play, 
 the action, the furniture, and the decora-
 
 92 Balzac. 
 
 tions ; he had even given the measure for the 
 double carpet which he judged indispensable 
 to the mise-en-scene. 
 
 It was then agreed that the play should be 
 read the next day in the presence of Madame 
 Dorval and Melingue. When, therefore, we 
 had all assembled at the appointed time, he 
 read it through from beginning to end, without 
 stopping, and then quietly remarked, " It is 
 much too long ; it must be cut down a quarter." 
 Not only did he cut it down, but he changed 
 the title to that of " La Maratre," which it has 
 since so gloriously borne. 
 
 It was first represented in June, 1848, in the 
 midst of the most disastrous political circum- 
 stances. . . . The theatres were necessarily 
 abandoned, but such is the power of genius 
 that all the bold and brave in literature who 
 remained in Paris gathered that night, and 
 received Balzac's work with the sympathy and 
 applause which it so richly merited. 
 
 The next morning I paid him a visit. " We 
 had quite a victory last night ! " I joyously ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 " Yes," he answered ; " a victory like that of 
 Charles XII." 
 
 On taking leave of him, I asked where he 
 had been during the representation. "Why," 
 he answered, with a smile, " I was in a box 
 with those ladies. They were greatly interested
 
 The Buskin and the Sock. 93 
 
 in the play. At the moment when Pauline 
 poisons herself, that her stepmother may be 
 accused of assassinating her, the young girl 
 screamed with terror; the tears were in her 
 eyes, and she looked reproachfully at me. Then 
 she grasped her stepmother's hand, and raised 
 it to her lips with a movement " 
 1 " Of sincerity ? " 
 " Ah, yes, indeed." 
 
 " You see, then, that your play may serve as 
 a lesson." 
 
 Balzac's last play, "Le Faiseur," was pro- 
 duced for the first time at the Gymnase, a year 
 after his death, under the title of " Mercadet." 
 Its success was immediate, and its hundredth 
 performance was the occasion of an article 
 by Albe'ric Second in "Le Constitutionnel," 
 18 June, 1852, which is at once so graceful and 
 fantastic that its reproduction here cannot fail 
 to afford some pleasure to the readers of the 
 " Com6die Humaine : " 
 
 The hundredth performance of " Mercadet " 
 was given the other evening at the Gymnase- 
 Dramatique. " Mercadet " is, it will be remem- 
 bered, the posthumous piece of M. de Balzac, 
 which at the time of its production excited 
 such great curiosity. Without any previous 
 agreement, but none the less certain of meet-
 
 94 Balzac. 
 
 ing, a dozen of us, all passionate admirers of 
 the illustrious deceased, found ourselves, that 
 evening, intermingled with the line which from 
 six o'clock in the evening had been undulat- 
 ing from the Boulevard Bonne Nouvelle to 
 the door of the theatre. We had all assisted 
 ten months before at the first representation 
 of the play, and we piously reassembled at this 
 jubilee of glory and genius in the same manner 
 as we had gone the year before, and in the 
 same manner that each year we shall go, on 
 the 1 8th of August, to wreathe with immor- 
 telles the tomb of the great writer. 
 
 M. de Balzac was not one of those who in- 
 spire lukewarm affection, and they who have 
 had the honor of knowing him preserve his 
 memory religiously in their hearts. That life of 
 his, full of struggles incessantly renewed, the 
 hourly and truceless combat which he waged, 
 sum up so completely the existence of the lit- 
 erary men of the nineteenth century that it is 
 impossible for us to consider his grand and 
 mournful figure otherwise than as the personi- 
 fication of an entire class. It is for this reason 
 that God, who is sovereignly just, will accord 
 to him hereafter a glory as great and incon- 
 testable as his life was tormented and sad. It 
 is for this reason that it behooves us, who are 
 the humble sacristans of the temple in which 
 he was the radiant high priest, to see that his
 
 The Buskin and the Sock. 95 
 
 altars are ever adorned with fresh flowers and 
 that the incense ceaselessly burns in the cen- 
 sers. 
 
 When we entered the theatre, it was, with the 
 exception of a few boxes and a number of or- 
 chestra stalls which had been sold in advance, 
 entirely filled. My seat was next to that of 
 a gentleman apparently about forty-five years 
 old. His bearing was exceedingly aristocratic ; 
 he was dressed with the most exquisite ele- 
 gance, and his buttonhole bloomed with a ro- 
 sette in which were intermingled in harmonious 
 confusion all the orders of Europe and every 
 shade of the rainbow. My neighbor was care- 
 lessly turning the pages of the " Entr'acte," 
 and I took great pleasure in studying his well- 
 poised head ; wondering the while whether I 
 had not met him somewhere before, and what 
 his name might be. When he had finished 
 reading he rose, turned his back to the stage, 
 drew an opera-glass from his pocket, and began 
 to examine the house ; an E and an R, sur- 
 mounted by a count's coronet, were engraved 
 in letters of gold on the case which he placed 
 on his seat. From time to time he bowed and 
 waved his hand. My eyes mechanically fol- 
 lowed the direction of his own, and I was not 
 a little surprised at noticing that his smiles 
 and salutations were addressed exclusively to 
 the unoccupied boxes. When he passed all
 
 96 Balzac. 
 
 the boxes in review he turned his attention to 
 the orchestra stalls, and the strange phenom- 
 enon was repeated. His opera-glass, flitting 
 from stall to stall, stopped only at the empty 
 ones ; he would then bow, or make an almost 
 imperceptible sign with the ends of his deli- 
 cately gloved ringers. Dominated by that de- 
 testable pride which causes us to consider as 
 insane all those whose actions or remarks are 
 unintelligible to us, I murmured to myself, He 
 is crazy. Then, as though he wished to remove 
 the slightest doubt which I might have retained 
 on this point, my neighbor bent over toward 
 the seat at his left, and appeared to exchange 
 a few words with an imaginary spectator. This 
 seat was one of those which had been let in 
 advance, and it was probable that its tenant, 
 who was still absent, was interested only in the 
 great play. I have omitted to state that the 
 performance began with a little vaudeville. 
 
 At this moment one of my friends entered 
 the orchestra, passed before me, shook my 
 hand, and called me by name. My neighbor 
 immediately turned around, gazed attentively 
 at me for a moment or two, and then said, 
 
 "Why, my dear fellow countryman, for you 
 are from La Charente, I believe, I am de- 
 lighted to see you." 
 
 " To whom have I the honor of speaking ? " 
 I asked, in great surprise.
 
 The Buskin and the Sock. 97 
 
 My neighbor drew from his pocket a card, 
 which he gallantly presented to me. My aston- 
 ishment was so great that I almost screamed 
 aloud ; fortunately, however, I preserved my 
 presence of mind. On the card, I read these 
 words : 
 
 " Le Comte Eugene de Rastignac." 
 
 " M. de Rastignac ? " I repeated, incredu- 
 lously. 
 
 " In person." 
 
 " The one who was born at Ruffec ? " 
 
 "Precisely." 
 
 " The cousin of Madame de Beauseant ? " 
 
 " Himself." 
 
 " Is it you who lived at the boarding-house 
 kept by Madame Vauquer, nee De Con- 
 flans ? " 
 
 " Exactly." 
 
 " And who knew the Pere Goriot and Vau- 
 trin ? " 
 
 "Yes, indeed." 
 
 "You exist, then ? " I stupidly inquired. 
 
 M. de Rastignac began to smile. 
 
 "Do you think that I present the appear- 
 ance of a phantom ? " he asked, as he gracefully 
 twirled his moustache. 
 
 " Sir," I said, " I can readily understand that 
 M. de Balzac should have borrowed your per- 
 sonality and extracted a great deal therefrom 
 for the edification of his readers ; but that he 
 7
 
 98 Balzac. 
 
 should have taken your name ! that, indeed, is 
 something that I cannot believe." 
 
 " I had authorized him so to do." 
 
 " You ? " 
 
 " Not only I did so, but all my friends did 
 the same." 
 
 "All, you say?" 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " Of whom do you speak ? " 
 
 "Of those who are in the theatre and to 
 whom I have just bowed." 
 
 " But where are they ? " 
 
 " Ah, yes ; I forgot you cannot see them." 
 
 M. de Rastignac lightly touched my fore- 
 head with the forefinger of his right hand, and, 
 light as was his touch, I immediately felt a vio- 
 lent electric shock, and it seemed as though I 
 had undergone an operation similar to that of 
 removing a cataract. 
 
 "Now look about you," said M. de Ras- 
 tignac, and he pointed to the boxes and stalls 
 which I had thought were empty. They were 
 occupied by ladies and gentlemen, laughing 
 and talking together in a most unghostlike 
 fashion. 
 
 " They are almost all there," said Madame 
 Vauquer's former lodger. " The principal per- 
 sonages of the ' Comedie Humaine ' have, like 
 you, come to salute the hundredth representa- 
 tion of 'Mercadet,' and their applause is so
 
 The Buskin and the Sock. 99 
 
 loud, so loud, that the echo of their bravos will 
 rejoice Balzac in his tomb." 
 
 " Am I losing my reason ? " I asked my- 
 self. 
 
 " I see that you are skeptical, my dear fel- 
 low," M. de Rastignac continued, " but let me 
 give you a few proofs. Here is one which will 
 satisfy you, I imagine ; " and, turning about, he 
 called to one of the spectators : 
 
 " Nathan ! " 
 
 " Well, my dear count ? " 
 
 " Where and when is your next drama ? " 
 
 " It will be given at the opening of the Ara- 
 bigu-Comique." 
 
 " Will you send me a box ? " 
 
 " Your name is already on the list." 
 
 " Du Bruel ! " 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " You are becoming lazy, now that you are 
 a member of the Acade'mie." 
 
 " I ? I have five acts in rehearsal at the 
 Vaudeville and two at the Varietds." 
 
 "That is not so bad, then. But where is 
 your wife ? " 
 
 "Tullia? She is in the third box to the 
 left." 
 
 " Alone ? " 
 
 " With La Palferine." 
 
 " Bixion, your last caricatures were infa- 
 mous."
 
 IOO Balzac. 
 
 "Bah! I would like to see you try your 
 hand at them, with the censure at your heels." 
 
 " How are you, Lou de Lora ? How are you, 
 Stedman ? Your exposition is superb. Ah, my 
 friends, you are the princes of the Musde. But 
 I say, Stedman, Pradier has just died : there is 
 a fine place open." 
 
 " Yes ; but then, alas, there are men who 
 can never be replaced." 
 
 All these questions and answers bounded 
 like the balls which two clever players serve 
 and receive in a well-played game of tennis. 
 
 M. de Rastignac turned to me. " Are you as 
 incredulous as before ? " he smilingly inquired. 
 "I? God forbid, sir, that I should doubt 
 your word." 
 
 In reality, however, I knew neither what to 
 think nor what to believe, for I had curiously 
 examined all these people whom my celebrated 
 compatriot had addressed, and who, through 
 M. de Balzac, as well as through their own 
 achievements, were known and liked through- 
 out civilized Europe. With the exception of 
 Bixion, who was thin, poorly dressed, and not 
 decorated, all the others appeared to be in the 
 most flourishing state of health and fortune. 
 Madame Tullia du Bruel was as appetizing as 
 ever, and La Palferine, familiarly leaning on 
 the back of her chair, exposed an ideal shirt 
 and an impossible vest.
 
 The Buskin and the Sock. IOI 
 
 " Does M. de la Palfe'rine no longer visit 
 Madame de Rochegude ? " I inquired. 
 
 " He is now entirely devoted to Tullia, and 
 asserts that, after all, Du Bruel's cook is the 
 finest artist in Paris." 
 
 " Is Madame de Rochegude still living ? " 
 
 " She sits in that second box to the right." 
 
 " Who is with her ? " 
 
 " Conti." 
 
 " The celebrated musician ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed. You remember the song, 
 
 " ' Et Ton revient toujours, 
 A ses premiers amours.' " 
 
 It was with the greatest eagerness that I 
 had turned to look at this artificial blonde, who 
 had been so greatly beloved by the young 
 Baron Calyste du Gue'nic. (Vide Beatrix.) A 
 lace scarf was twisted about her neck in such a 
 way as to diminish its length. She appeared 
 worn and fatigued ; but her figure was a mas- 
 terpiece of composition, and she offered that 
 compound of light and brilliant drapery, of 
 gauze and crimped hair, of vivacity and calm, 
 which is termed the je ne sais quoi. 
 
 Conti was also an object of great interest to 
 me. He looked vexed, out of sorts, and bored, 
 and seemed to be meditating on the eternal 
 truth of that aphorism, profound and sombre 
 as an abyss, which teaches that a cigar once
 
 IO2 Balzac. 
 
 out should never be relighted, and an affection 
 once buried should never be exhumed. 
 
 " Is the Baron de Nucingen here ? " I asked. 
 
 "Nucingen is confined to his bed with the 
 gout ; he has not two good months out of the 
 twelve." 
 
 " And his wife ? " 
 
 "The baroness no longer goes to the the- 
 atre. Religion, charity, and sermons occupy 
 every instant of her time. Her father, Pere 
 Go riot, has now a white marble tomb and a 
 perpetual resting-place in the cemetery of Pere 
 La Chaise." 
 
 " Where is her sister, Madame de Restand ? " 
 
 " She died a few years ago, legally separated 
 from her husband." 
 
 "Pardon my insatiable curiosity," I said, 
 " but ever since I was old enough to read and 
 think I have not ceased to live with the per- 
 sonages of the ' Comedie Humaine.' " 
 
 " I am glad indeed," he courteously replied, 
 " to be able to answer your questions. Is there 
 anything that you still care to know ? " 
 
 " What has become of the ex-minister of 
 agriculture and commerce, the Comte Popinot, 
 whom we called the little Anselme Popinot, 
 in the days of the greatness and decadence 
 of Cesar Birotteau ? " 
 
 " He followed the exiled princes to Eng- 
 land."
 
 The Buskin and the Sock. 103 
 
 "AndDuTillet?" 
 
 " Du Tillet is no longer in France." 
 
 " Did he leave for political reasons ? " 
 
 " Is it possible that you did not hear of his 
 failure ! He absconded one day, with the till, 
 ruined by Jenny Cadine and Suzanne du Val- 
 Noble." 
 
 "Where are the children of Madame de 
 Montsauf, that celestial creature, so justly called 
 le Lys dans la Valle'e ? " 
 
 " Jacques died of consumption, leaving Mad- 
 eleine sole mistress of an enormous fortune. In 
 spite of what M. de Balzac said, I always sup- 
 posed that she was secretly in love with Felix de 
 Vandernesse. She is in that first avant-scene. 
 She is an old maid now, but is none the less an 
 adorable woman, and the true daughter of her 
 mother." 
 
 " Do you know the name of that individual 
 who has just entered her box ? " 
 
 " That is Canalis." 
 
 "Canalis, the great poet, who played such 
 an important part in the life of Modeste Mig- 
 non ? " 
 
 " Precisely." 
 
 " I had thought that he was younger." 
 
 " He has grown quite old during these last 
 few years. He has turned his attention to pol- 
 itics, and you may notice how politics hollows 
 the cheeks and silvers the hair of poetry. He
 
 IO4 Balzac. 
 
 would bankrupt Golconda, however, and he is 
 now attempting to win Mile, de Montsauf and 
 her millions. But look to the left, in that first 
 box from the door of the gallery, and see 
 whether you do not recognize one of the most 
 curious physiognomies of the ' Come'die Hu- 
 maine.' " 
 
 " Do you mean that stout woman ? " 
 
 " Yes ; it is Madame Nourrisau." 
 
 " Vautrin's aunt ? " 
 
 "In flesh and blood, especially in flesh. 
 There is the formidable hag who went one day 
 to the son of the Baron Hulot, and proposed, 
 for fifty thousand francs, to rid him of Madame 
 Marneffe. You must have read about it in 
 'La Cousine Bette.'" 
 
 " She is not alone, I see." 
 
 " She is with her husband." 
 
 "Her husband? Is it possible that she 
 found one ? " 
 
 " You forget that she is five or six times mil- 
 lionaire, and also the general rule that where it 
 rains millions husbands sprout. Her name is 
 now Madame Gaudessart, nee Vautrin." 
 
 " Is it the illustrious Gaudessart who is the 
 husband of that horrible creature ? " 
 
 " Legally so, I beg you to believe." 
 
 " Speaking of the ' Cousine Bette,' can you 
 tell me anything of Wencelas Steinbock and 
 his wife ? "
 
 The Buskin and the Sock. 105 
 
 "They are perfectly happy. It is young 
 Hulot who misbehaves ; his wife is in that box 
 over there, with the Steinbocks. Hulot has 
 told them that he will join them later, and 
 has probably stated that he had some urgent 
 law business to attend to ; but the truth is that 
 he is behind the scenes at the opera. Hulot 
 is not his father's son for nothing." 
 
 At this point M. de Rastignac smiled affec- 
 tionately at a white-haired musician, who was 
 tuning his violin. 
 
 " Is that the Cousin Pons ? " I asked. 
 
 "You forget two things: first, that the 
 Cousin Pons is dead ; and secondly, that in his 
 lifetime he always wore a green velvet coat. But 
 though Orestes is no more, Pylades still lives. 
 Damon has survived Pythias. It is Schmucke 
 who sits before you. He is very poor ; he has 
 nothing but the fifty francs a month which he 
 earns here, and the payment of a few piano 
 lessons at seventy-five centimes each ; but he 
 will not accept any assistance, and, for my 
 part, I have never seen tatters more proudly 
 worn." 
 
 " Can you not," I asked, " show me M. 
 Maxime de Trailles ? " 
 
 "De Trailles no longer lives in Paris. 
 When the devil grows stout he turns hermit. 
 This retired condottiere is now a married man, 
 the father of a family, and resides in the coun-
 
 io6 Balzac. 
 
 try. He makes speeches at the agricultural 
 fairs, takes great interest in cattle, and repre- 
 sents his county at the general assembly of his 
 department, the late Maxime de Trailles, as 
 he is now pleased to call himself." 
 
 " And Des Lupeaulx ? " 
 
 "Des Lupeaulx is a prefect of the first 
 class. But in place of these gentlemen, you 
 have before you, in that box, the Count Felix 
 de Vandernesse and the Countess Nathalie de 
 Manerville ; a little beyond, the Grandvilles and 
 the Grandlieux ; then, the Duke de Rhetor^, 
 Laginski, D'Esgrignon Montreveau, Rochefide, 
 and D'Ajuda-Ponto. Moreover, there are the 
 Cheffrevilles ; but then what a pity it is that 
 our poor Camille Maupin is not present at this 
 solemnity ! " 
 
 " Is it of Mile, de Touches that you speak ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Is she still religiously inclined ? " 
 
 " She died like a saint, two years ago, in a 
 convent near Nantes. She retired from the 
 world, you remember, after accomplishing the 
 marriage of Calyste du Gue'nic and Sabine de 
 Grandlieu. What a woman she was ! There 
 are none like her now." 
 
 These last words of M. de Rastignac were 
 covered by the three traditional knocks which 
 precede the rise of the curtain. 
 
 " ' Mercadet ' is about to commence," he said.
 
 The Buskin and the Sock. 107 
 
 " After the first act I will continue my gossip ; 
 provided, of course, that I do not weary you 
 with it." 
 
 " Oh, my dear sir ! " I cried. " My " 
 
 I had not time to complete my phrase ; a 
 friendly but vigorous hand grasped my arm. 
 
 " So you come to ' Mercadet ' to sleep, do 
 you ? " said a well-known voice. 
 
 " I ? Am I asleep ? " 
 
 " You are not asleep now, but you were." 
 
 I turned quickly around. 
 
 My neighbor was a fat-faced gentleman, 
 with blue spectacles, who was peeling an or- 
 ange with the most ridiculous gravity. 
 
 In the boxes and orchestra stalls, wherever 
 I had thought to see the personages of the 
 "Come'die Humaine," I found only insignifi- 
 cant faces, of the ordinary and graceless type, 
 a collection of obliterated medals. 
 
 At this moment the curtain rose, the actors 
 appeared, and the great comedy of " Mercadet " 
 was revealed, amid the applause and delight of 
 the crowd. 
 
 I had been dreaming, therefore, and if I 
 had been dreaming I must have been asleep. 
 But what had provoked my somnolence ? Was 
 it the approach of a storm, the heat of the 
 theatre, or the vaudeville with which the per- 
 formance commenced ? 
 
 Perhaps all three.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE CHASE FOR GOLD. 
 
 " Nullum magnum ingenium sine mixtura dementias est." SEN- 
 ECA, De Tranguillitate Animi, c. 15. 
 
 FROM Balzac's early manhood his entire ex- 
 istence was consumed in a feverish pursuit of 
 wealth ; and had the mines of California been 
 discovered at an earlier date, there is little 
 doubt that he would have exchanged his pen 
 for a pick, and sought, in a red shirt, to real- 
 ize the millions with which he dowered his 
 characters. 
 
 At the outset of his career, he was, as has 
 been seen, unsuccessful in a business enter- 
 prise, and became, in consequence, heavily in- 
 volved in debt. This spectre of the past 
 haunted him so continually that it not only 
 found frequent expression in his writings, in 
 which money became a hymn, but it brought 
 to him illusions and projects of fortune which 
 were at once curious and fantastic. 
 
 At one time, shortly after the publication of 
 " Facino Cane," who, it will be remembered, 
 was imprisoned in the dungeons of Venice,
 
 The Chase for Gold. 109 
 
 and, in making his escape, discovered the hid- 
 den treasures of the Doges, which he proposed 
 to seek and share with his biographer, Bal- 
 zac became fairly intoxicated with the delusions 
 of his hero, and his dreams of secreted wealth 
 assumed such a semblance of reality that he at 
 last imagined, or pretended that he had learned, 
 the exact spot where Toussaint Louverture had 
 buried his famous booty. 
 
 "'The Gold Bug' of Edgar Poe," Gautier 
 writes, " did not equal in delicacy of induction 
 ,and clearness of detail his feverish recital of 
 the proposed expedition by which we were to 
 become masters of a treasure far richer than 
 Kidd's. 
 
 " Sandeau was as easily seduced as myself. 
 It was necessary that Balzac should have two 
 robust and devoted accomplices, and, in ex- 
 change for our assistance, he was good enough 
 to offer to each of us a quarter of the prodig- 
 ious fortune. Half was to be his, by right of 
 conquest. It was arranged that we were to 
 purchase spades and picks, place them secretly 
 in a ship, and, to avoid suspicion, reach the 
 designated spot by different roads, and then, 
 after having disinterred the treasure, we were 
 to embark with it on a brig freighted in ad- 
 vance. In short, it was a real romance, which 
 would have been admirable had it been written 
 instead of recited. It is of course unnecessary
 
 no Balzac. 
 
 to add that the booty was not unearthed. We 
 discovered that we had no money to pay our 
 traveling expenses, and our united capital was 
 insufficient to purchase even the spades." 
 
 At another time Balzac conceived the project 
 of manufacturing paper from a substance which 
 was at once cheap and plentiful. Experiments, 
 however, proved that his plan was impracti- 
 cable, and a friend who called to console him 
 found that, instead of being dejected, he was 
 even more jovial than ever. 
 
 " Never mind about the paper," he said. " I 
 have a better scheme yet." 
 
 It was this : While reading Tacitus, he had 
 stumbled upon a reference to the mines of Sar- 
 dinia ; his imagination, aided by his scientific 
 knowledge, carried him back to the imperfect 
 mechanical processes of old Rome, and he saw 
 at once a vision of wealth, awaiting only modern 
 appliances to be his own. With the greatest 
 difficulty he collected partly from his mother, 
 partly from his cousin, and partly from that 
 aunt whom the Anglo-Saxon Bohemian has 
 converted into an uncle the sum of five hun- 
 dred francs ; and then, having reached Genoa, 
 he embarked for Alghiero, explaining his proj- 
 ect to the captain of the vessel with the candor 
 of an infant. 
 
 Once in Sardinia, dressed like a beggar, a 
 terror to brigands and monks, he sought the
 
 The Chase for Gold. I f ' 
 
 mines on foot. They were easily found. Witk 
 a few specimens of the ore, he returned im- 
 mediately to Paris, where an analysis showed 
 them to contain a large proportion of silver. 
 Jubilant with success, he would then have ap- 
 plied to the Italian government for a conces- 
 sion of the mines, but unfortunately he was, for 
 the moment, detained by lawsuits and other 
 business, and when he at last set out for Milan 
 it was too late. The perfidious captain had 
 thought the idea so good that, without prelimi- 
 nary examinations, he had lost no time in se- 
 curing an authorization in due form, and was 
 then quietly proceeding to make a fortune. 
 
 "There is a million in the mines," Balzac 
 wrote to his sister. " A Marseilles firm has as- 
 sayed the scoriae, but the delay has been fatal. 
 The Genoese captain has already obtained a 
 contract from the government. However, I 
 have another idea, which is even better ; this 
 time there will be no Genoese. I am already 
 consoled." 
 
 After having read " Venice Preserved " and 
 admired the union of Pierre and Jaffier, Balzac 
 says that he began to consider the peculiar 
 virtues of those who are thrown outside of the 
 social order, the honesty of the galleys, the 
 fidelity of robbers, and the privileges of that 
 enormous power which these men obtain in 
 fusing all ideas into one supreme will, and
 
 H2 Balzac. 
 
 concluded that, man being greater than men, 
 society should belong entirely to those whose 
 brilliancy, intelligence, and wealth could be 
 joined in a fanaticism warm enough to melt 
 their different forces into a single jet. An 
 occult power of this description, he argued, 
 would be the master of society ; it would re- 
 verse obstacles, enchain desires, and give to 
 one the superhuman power of all ; it would be 
 a world within a world, admitting none of its 
 ideas, recognizing none of its laws ; it would 
 be a league of filibusters in yellow gloves and 
 dogcarts, who could at all times be ready to 
 devote themselves in their entirety to any one 
 among them who should require their united 
 aid. 
 
 This novel conception was not only the mo- 
 tif of the " Histoire des Treize," but no sooner 
 was the book completed than Balzac, in accord- 
 ance with his mania for living his characters, at- 
 tempted to reproduce it in real life, or rather, 
 in the other life, for his true world was the one 
 which he carried in his brain, and without 
 difficulty recruited for this purpose Jules San- 
 deau, Leon Gozlan, Laurent Jan, Gerard de 
 Nerval, Merle, Alphonse Karr, and Granier de 
 Cassagnac. 
 
 The aim of the association, which he ex- 
 plained with that tumultuous eloquence for 
 which he was famous and which silenced every
 
 The Chase for Gold. 113 
 
 objection, was simply to grasp the leading- 
 strings of the principal newspapers, invade the 
 theatres, take seats in the Academie, and be- 
 come millionaires and peers of France. When 
 any one of them produced a book or a play, 
 the others were to write about it, talk about it, 
 and advertise it generally, until its success was 
 assured ; and as nothing succeeds like suc- 
 cess, a good commencement was all that was 
 needed to insure an easy and glorious ascent. 
 
 The project was enthusiastically received and 
 unanimously approved. The society was en- 
 titled the "Cheval Rouge," and Balzac was 
 elected chief. 
 
 In order to avoid suspicion, it was agreed 
 that in public the members should not appear 
 to know each other, and Karr relates that for 
 a long time Balzac would pretend, whenever he 
 saw him, that they met for the first time, and 
 would communicate with him only in an actor's 
 aside. The meetings of the society were pre- 
 arranged by the chief. The notices consisted 
 of a card, on which was painted a red horse, 
 and the words, stable, such a day, such a 
 place ; in order to make it still more fantastic, 
 the place was changed each time. 
 
 This project, which of course resulted in 
 nothing, and which was soon abandoned, was 
 none the less practicable, and minus the myste- 
 rious farce with which it was surrounded has 
 8
 
 114 Balzac. 
 
 since, in many instances, been put into success- 
 ful operation. 
 
 Through one of those psychical phenomena 
 which generate within us a diversity of sen- 
 timent while uniting their contradictory ele- 
 ments, Balzac was tortured by a combined dis- 
 taste and affection for journalism. It possessed 
 a morbid attraction for him ; and while he exe- 
 crated the entire profession, he longed none the 
 less for an editor's chair, from which he could 
 bombard his enemies at his ease, and glean 
 at the same time the rich harvest which a suc- 
 cessful review invariably produces. 
 
 The foundation of a journal, however, is 
 money, more money, always money ; and Bal- 
 zac, who was rich only in unrecognized audac- 
 ity and unquoted talent, after having tried in 
 every way to acquire the necessary capital, was 
 about to abandon his scheme as hopeless, when 
 Providence in the form of a young man passed 
 the sentries and entered his room. 
 
 " M. de Balzac ? " 
 
 And Balzac, to whom every stranger was a 
 dun, replied, " It is, sir, and it is not ; it de- 
 pends." 
 
 " I am looking for the author of ' La Peau du 
 Chagrin.' " 
 
 " Ah ! then, I am he." 
 
 " Sir," said the youth, " I understand that 
 you are about to edit a journal, and I have
 
 The CJiase for Gold. 1 1 5 
 
 come to ask for the position of theatrical critic. 
 I would also like to write the fashion article." 
 
 Balzac, furious at the intrusion and indig- 
 nant at the youth's proposition to collaborate 
 in a journal whose appearance was prevented 
 by lack of funds, was about to order the young 
 man out, when he suddenly noticed that he was 
 clothed in the most expensive manner. 
 
 " May I ask whom I have the honor of ad- 
 dressing ? " inquired the ogre, with his most se- 
 ductive smile. 
 
 " I am the son of M. Chose, the banker." 
 
 Balzac became very fascinating. "I thought 
 so, I thought so from the first ; you look like 
 him. Will you not sit down ? As we were 
 saying, I am about to edit the ' Chronique de 
 Paris,' whose appearance, so impatiently await- 
 ed, I have delayed only that its success might 
 be the better assured. And did I understand 
 you to say that you would like to take charge 
 of the theatrical criticisms ? " 
 
 "Yes, indeed, sir, if you think me capable." 
 
 " Capable ? Do I think you capable ? Why, 
 all the more capable, as it is unusual for a 
 banker's son to wish to enter a purely literary 
 association. The blood of a financier is sel- 
 dom inclined to "... 
 
 "I do not care for letters of credit, M. de 
 Balzac. I care for letters, simply." 
 
 " Adorable witticism 1 " cried Balzac, illumi-
 
 ii6 Balzac. 
 
 nated with hope. " And you care, then, for lit- 
 erature, in spite of the immense fortune which 
 you enjoy ? " 
 
 " I expect ten millions more," interrupted 
 the youth. 
 
 "Ten millions!" 
 
 " Rather more than less, M. de Balzac." 
 
 "Nothing could be better or more oppor- 
 tune," smiled this courtesan of wealth, reduced 
 to adulating an idiot. " I was just wondering 
 whom I should select. The position is yours. 
 No, no ; it is for me to thank you. My best 
 regards to your dear father." 
 
 The youth had barely turned the corner 
 when Balzac hastily summoned the members 
 of the " Cheval Rouge." 
 
 " At last I have a capitalist ! " he cried. " He 
 has promised nothing, it is true, but I have rea- 
 son to believe that, properly managed, he will 
 invest anywhere from a hundred thousand up. 
 He is an idiot, the son of Chose the banker. 
 He wants to be dramatic critic, and that means 
 money, simply money, and lots of it. But," he 
 continued, " the affair cannot be arranged with- 
 out a subtle preparation and solemn initiation, 
 and preparation and initiation mean dinner. 
 It is at a dinner, not frugal but sumptuous, 
 adorned with a garland of editors and critics, 
 each more seductive than the other, that the 
 alliance of your intelligence and the money of
 
 The Chase for Gold. 117 
 
 my imbecile will be consummated ; and then, 
 with the champagne in his throat, he will tell 
 us how much he proposes to pour into the till 
 of the 'Chronique de Paris.' It has not got 
 one yet, to be sure, but we will buy one as soon 
 as he furnishes the money." 
 
 " But there will be about twenty of us," ob- 
 jected De Nerval, " and the dinner will cost at 
 least four hundred francs. Where are they ? 
 Have you got them ? " 
 
 " No, but I will find them," Balzac answered, 
 with a magnificent gesture. " It is not a ques- 
 tion of a dinner in a restaurant, for that would 
 smack of the adventurer a mile away ; and be- 
 sides, there of course you pay cash. The ban- 
 quet shall be served here, and on credit. We 
 have only to inspire some caterer with sufficient 
 confidence." 
 
 " Charming," said Merle, as he looked about 
 the poorly furnished apartment ; " but how is 
 that sufficiency of confidence to be inspired ? " 
 
 After innumerable propositions had been 
 discussed and rejected, Balzac discovered that 
 Granier de Cassagnac had a service of silver 
 in pawn for eight hundred francs, and pre- 
 vailed on Gautier to borrow a like amount, dis- 
 engage the silver, which, negligently exposed 
 on Balzac's table, would inspire confidence in 
 any caterer ; promising that after the dinner 
 the silver should be immediately repawned and 
 the loan repaid.
 
 n8 Balzac. 
 
 " My plan is triumphant ! " he exclaimed ; 
 " the money is ours. To-morrow we will liberate 
 the silver. Tuesday, conference with the caterer. 
 Wednesday, invitation on vellum launched at 
 our young capitalist ; the same evening, solemn 
 engagement on his part to invest, accompanied 
 on ours by the most hilarious toasts. Thurs- 
 day, contract drawn by a notary and signed by 
 the delicate hand of our millionaire. Friday, 
 reunion and tea, to read over the prospectus, 
 which I will compose. Saturday, colossal ad- 
 vertisement on every wall, monument, and col- 
 umn ; and the week after, brilliant apparition on 
 the Parisian horizon of the first number. Sol- 
 diers ! to arms ! " 
 
 This programme, joyously arranged, was fear- 
 lessly carried out. The silver was liberated, 
 the caterer inspired with confidence, the invi- 
 tation accepted, and after a sumptuous repast 
 Balzac, glass in hand, arose and addressed the 
 company as follows : 
 
 " Gentlemen, you are all aware of the ob- 
 ject for which we have assembled this even- 
 ing about the liberal and gracious guest here 
 seated at my right. It is the creation of a pub- 
 lication destined to assume, thanks to him and 
 to his munificent intelligence, an unexception- 
 able position among the reviews of the century. 
 Although I have not, to my great regret, been 
 possessed of sufficient leisure to cultivate as
 
 The Chase for Gold. 119 
 
 I should have desired this rare intelligence, 
 which has been called not only to fecundate 
 our own, but also to assist us in spreading the 
 fruits of our genius over a world which awaits 
 them, and which, I may confidently state, would 
 never know them save for the generous and 
 effective assistance of our guest, I may never- 
 theless be permitted to say to what extent he 
 has, in momentary confidences, permitted me 
 to foresee treasuries of encouragement and 
 rich rewards. I do not fear, therefore, to say 
 that the ' Chronique de Paris ' will owe to him 
 its existence, its splendor, and its popularity. 
 Were my emotion not so great and so real, I 
 would speak at greater length of the future of 
 our cherished and illustrious publication ; but 
 I prefer, in begging you, in honor of our guest, 
 to join your toasts to mine, to leave the floor 
 to him, that he may explain what in his gen- 
 erosity he proposes to do for the ' Chronique 
 de Paris,' at once happy and proud to possess 
 him as protector and patron." 
 
 Then, lowering his voice to one of simple po- 
 liteness, Balzac turned to his guest, and said, 
 " Be good enough, my dear young friend, to 
 explain what your liberal intentions are." 
 
 " Gentlemen," the banker's son replied, " I 
 will talk it over with papa." 
 
 Balzac grew white as the table-cloth, but, 
 magnificent in his defeat, hardly had the pseu-
 
 I2O Balzac. 
 
 do-capitalist disappeared than he exclaimed, 
 with an accent which might have unsettled des- 
 tiny itself, " It is daylight ; let us repawn the 
 silver ! " 1 
 
 Partly for the sake of solitude, and partly to 
 affect, for business purposes, an appearance 
 of luxury, Balzac, in 1837, built a villa at Ville 
 d'Avray, which he named Les Jardies, as a 
 reminiscence of the days when Louis XIV. 
 lounged at Versailles. 
 
 It consisted of but three rooms, or rather 
 three stories. The ground floor, the rez-de- 
 chausske, was the reception-room, the second 
 the study, and the third the bedroom. 
 
 When the architect's plan was first submit- 
 ted, the staircase greatly interfered with the 
 dimensions of the rooms, and Balzac, exasper- 
 ated at this impertinence, ordered it out of the 
 house, and caused it, by way of punishment, 
 to climb in spiral solitude about the outer 
 wall. 
 
 This little eccentricity gave to his parrot's 
 cage the appearance of having been trans- 
 planted from some old Hanseatic or Flemish 
 town, and satisfied at the same time his pro- 
 prietary pride. 
 
 At a little distance was another habitation, 
 
 1 H. de Balzac, by Eugene de Mirecourt. H. de Balzac^ 
 by Armand Bashet. Balzac en Pantoujftes, by Leon Goz- 
 Ian.
 
 The Chase for Gold. 121 
 
 in which the kitchen and servants' rooms were 
 situated ; and the whole establishment was sur- 
 rounded by a high wall, which, being built on 
 the incline of a hillock, was devastated by 
 every storm, and fell five times into his neigh- 
 bor's grounds ; until Balzac, wearied by con- 
 stant summons and complaints, bought the 
 surrounding property, that his cherished wall 
 might lie at ease where it chose. 
 
 The interior of Les Jardies was fully in keep- 
 ing with the character of its owner. The re- 
 ception-room was but scantily furnished, and 
 the bare walls were ornamented with a promise 
 of Gobelin tapestry traced in charcoal. 
 
 On the ceiling was written, " Fresco by De- 
 lacroix." On the wall of his study he wrote, 
 " Here is a regal Venetian mirror," while a cor- 
 ner of his bedroom assured the visitor that he 
 was looking at one of Raphael's priceless Ma- 
 donnas. 
 
 In this way Balzac furnished his home with 
 magnificent dreams, while he dined, perhaps, 
 as did that creation of Dickens, who cut his 
 bread into imaginary omelets, and sliced it into 
 tenderloins. 
 
 Before Balzac's advent, the plot of ground 
 on which Les Jardies was built had been a 
 vineyard, on which the warm sun had lain all 
 day, and ripened the clustering grapes. The 
 knowledge of this fact preoccupied him greatly.
 
 122 Balzac. 
 
 If grapes had grown there, he argued, why 
 should not anything else ? Why should not 
 pine-apples ? 
 
 Now pine-apples were dear in Paris, costing 
 from ten to fifteen francs apiece ; and no 
 sooner did this idea present itself than it was 
 grappled, seized, and caressed by Balzac, who 
 immediately saw an annual harvest of an hun- 
 dred thousand pine-apples, which had bloomed 
 in hot-houses as yet unbuilt. 
 
 These pine-apples would, he thought, sell at 
 least for five francs apiece ; the attendant ex- 
 penses could not be over a hundred thousand 
 francs ; and by a simple mathematical process, 
 with which no one was more familiar, he fore- 
 saw a princely revenue of four hundred thou- 
 sand francs more. 
 
 These four hundred thousand francs danced 
 with such charm and grace before him that he 
 lost no time in looking for a shop in which to 
 sell his unplanted fruit. He soon found a suit- 
 able one on the Boulevard Montmartre, which 
 he would have immediately hired, painted in 
 black and yellow, and decorated with an enor- 
 mous sign, bearing for epigraph Pine-apples 
 from Les Jardies, had he not been forcibly dis- 
 suaded by friends less enthusiastic than he. 
 
 In this way scheme succeeded scheme, and 
 one project was abandoned only for another. 
 His latest idea he always considered his best,
 
 The Chase for Gold. 123 
 
 unless he was agreed with, when he would re- 
 verse all his arguments to prove that a pre- 
 cedent one was better still. At one time he 
 thought that through a mathematical combina- 
 tion he had discovered a system which would 
 enable him to break the bank at Baden ; at an- 
 other he proposed to cut down a forest in Po- 
 land, and supply Paris with timber, and would 
 have done so had not his brother-in-law proved 
 to him that the expenses for transportation 
 would far exceed any possible profit. 
 
 To make money, to become a millionaire, and 
 to lead the life of a prince was his constant aim 
 and ambition. 
 
 " The life of an artist," he said, " should be 
 a succession of splendors ; " and while he de- 
 tested Dumas, he secretly admired his Oriental 
 magnificence and envied his prodigal luxury. 
 But while the firm of Dumas and Company 
 was manufacturing novels by the dozen, Balzac 
 was engaged in weighing a phrase and occu- 
 pied with its corrections ; while Dumas never 
 so much as glanced at the proof-sheets of his 
 feuilletons, Balzac's were not only carefully 
 corrected, but the attendant expenses were, by 
 agreement, charged to him ; and where, as in 
 the case of " Pierrette," he was obliged to pay, 
 for the corrections three hundred francs more 
 than he received for the story itself, it will be 
 readily understood that the amounts which he
 
 124 Balzac. 
 
 earned by his pen were not always as satisfac- 
 tory as could have been desired. 
 
 In this respect, however, it should be stated 
 that while the money which he earned in his 
 later years was out of all proportion to that 
 which he at first received, yet, in the mean 
 time, some few debts had necessarily accumu- 
 lated, and his income, consequently reduced, 
 averaged at best not more than ten or twelve 
 thousand francs. 
 
 The history of his financial troubles, and of 
 that which he laughingly termed his floating 
 debt, can best be found in his correspondence, 
 which, ranging from his twentieth year to but a 
 few days prior to his death, contains many de- 
 tails of the thirty years' war which he waged 
 with poverty ; and his letters, while interesting 
 in their account of his transient successes, at- 
 tendant struggles, defeats, and final victory, 
 will convince even the prejudiced reader, that 
 the writer was, in the first place, a man of the 
 strictest integrity ; for it may be said, without 
 exaggeration, that the better part of his life 
 was passed in attempting to satisfy that ne- 
 cessity whose earthly representatives are cred- 
 itors ; secondly, that his morals were perfectly 
 pure, for he loved and reverenced women with 
 that amor intelkctualis which made chastity to 
 him one of those graces which are superflui- 
 ties to the vulgar and necessities to the re-
 
 The Chase for Gold. 125 
 
 fined ; and thirdly, that his heart, which was 
 as great as his brain, was yet too full of affec- 
 tion for those whom he loved to harbor malice 
 against his detractors and persecutors. 
 
 The earliest of these letters, the majority of 
 which are addressed to his sister, or to Madame 
 Zulma Carraud, one of her intimate friends, are 
 mere descriptions of his life and poverty, and 
 are expressed with the smiling indifference of 
 youth, to whom the shadows of the future are 
 yet vague and distant. 
 
 " Since you are so much interested in all 
 that I do," he wrote from Paris to his sister, in 
 1819, "you must know that last night I slept 
 magnificently ; and how could I do otherwise ? 
 I dreamed of you, of mother, of my loves, of 
 my hopes, and now, on awakening, I give you 
 my earliest thoughts. I must tell you, in the 
 first place, that that wretch, Myself, becomes 
 more and more negligent. He goes but twice 
 a week for provisions, and then, being econom- 
 ical even of his steps, always to the nearest, 
 and consequently to the worst, shops in the 
 neighborhood ; hence, your brother, destined 
 to such celebrity, is already nourished like any 
 other great man, which means that he is dy- 
 ing of hunger." 
 
 To his sister, in the following year, he 
 wrote, 
 
 " I feel to-day that wealth does not consti-
 
 126 Balzac. 
 
 tute happiness, and that my life here will be 
 to me always a source of the sweetest remem- 
 brances. " To live as I choose ; to work when 
 I will, and after my own manner ; to do noth- 
 ing, even, if I so desire ; to fall asleep in a 
 beautiful future ; to think of you, and to know 
 that you are happy ; to possess the Julie of 
 Rousseau for mistress, La Fontaine and Mo- 
 liere for friends, Racine for master, and Pere- 
 Lachaise for promenade ! . . . Oh, could it but 
 last forever ! " 
 
 And a little later, 
 
 " I have just returned from Pere-Lachaise, 
 where I have been inhaling magnificent in- 
 spirations. Decidedly, the only beautiful epi- 
 taphs are such as these, La Fontaine, Moliere, 
 Massena, a single name which tells all, and 
 makes the passer dream ! " . . . 
 
 The next year he wrote, 
 
 " DEAR SISTER, I am going to work like 
 the horse of Henri IV. before it was cast in 
 bronze; and this year I hope to make the 
 twenty thousand francs which are to commence 
 my fortune. I have a quantity of novels and 
 dramas to prepare. ... In a little while there 
 will be, between the me of to-day and the me 
 of to-morrow, the difference that exists .be- 
 tween the boy of twenty and the man of thirty. 
 I reflect ; my ideas ripen ; and I see that in giv- 
 ing to me the heart and head which I possess
 
 The Chase for Gold. 127 
 
 Nature has treated me with favor. Believe in 
 me, dear sister ; for while I do not despair of 
 being something, some day, I yet have need 
 of a believer. I see now that ' Cromwell ' 
 had not even the merit of an embryo. As to 
 my novels, they are as poor as the devil, 
 though not half so seductive." 
 
 But when, later on, at the age of twenty- 
 seven, Balzac found himself without position, 
 without a profession, entirely unknown, with- 
 out resources, and burdened, moreover, with 
 a debt of 120,000 francs, the result of his 
 disastrous experience as printer and publisher, 
 he had but his pen with which to conquer 
 poverty and combat the world. His family 
 had no faith in him ; they had sunk a large 
 sum in his enterprise ; he was friendless, and 
 his genius was entirely unrecognized ; and it 
 is at once curious and pathetic to note through 
 the rest of his correspondence the continued 
 recurrence and repetition of his dream of pro- 
 spective fortune and freedom from debt. 
 
 His first letters after his disaster are pro- 
 foundly sad : in one he wrote to his sister, 
 
 " I must live without asking aid of any one. 
 I must live to work, that I may repay you all j 
 but shall I be able to live long enough to pay 
 my debts of love and gratitude as well ? " 
 
 To the Duchesse d'Abrantes, in the same 
 year, he wrote,
 
 128 Balzac. 
 
 " I wonder if you have ever experienced the 
 extent to which misfortunes develop within 
 us the terrible faculty of breasting a tempest, 
 and of opposing to adversity an immobile calm. 
 
 " As for myself, I have acquired the habit of 
 smiling at the torments of fate, torments that 
 still continue. 
 
 " I am old in suffering, but my light-hearted 
 appearance offers no criterion of my age. I 
 have never been otherwise ; I have been al- 
 ways bent beneath a terrible weight. Nothing 
 can give you an idea of the life which I have 
 led, nor of my astonishment at having nothing 
 but fortune to combat. 
 
 " Were you to inquire about me, you would 
 be unable to obtain any insight to the nature 
 of my misfortunes ; but then you know there are 
 those who die without any apparent disease. . . . 
 
 " I have undertaken two books at a time, to 
 say nothing of a number of articles. The days 
 evaporate in my hands like ice in the sunlight. 
 I do not live ; I waste away ; but death from 
 work or from any other cause amounts to the 
 same thing in the end. ... I sleep from six in 
 the evening until midnight, and then I work 
 for sixteen hours. I have but one hour of lib- 
 erty, and that during dinner. I have sworn to 
 owe nothing, and though I die like a dog my 
 courage will support me to the end." 
 
 In 1831, he wrote to the same lady,
 
 The Chase for Gold. 1 29 
 
 " You do not know that in 1828 I had but 
 my pen with which to live and pay off 120,000 
 francs. In a few months I shall be free from 
 debt, and be able to arrange a comfortable 
 home. During the next six months, therefore, 
 I shall enjoy my last miseries. I have asked 
 aid from no one. I have never stretched my 
 hand, either for a page or a sou. I have hid- 
 den my griefs and my wounds, and you who 
 know how difficult it is to make money with the 
 pen will, with your feminine glance, be able to 
 sound the depths of the abyss which I disclose 
 to you, and by the side of which I have marched 
 without falling." 
 
 In the following year, he wrote to his moth- 
 er, 
 
 " Sooner or later, literature, politics, journal- 
 ism, marriage, or some good speculation will 
 make my fortune." 
 
 And later on, 
 
 " Thank you, my sister ; you have restored to 
 me that energy which has been my sole support. 
 Yes, you are right. I will not stop ; I will con- 
 tinue to advance, and some day you will see 
 mine counted among the great names of our 
 country. . . . My books are the only replies 
 which I shall make to those who commence to 
 attack me. Do not let their criticisms annoy 
 you : they are the best of auguries ; mediocrity 
 is never discussed. Tell my mother that I love 
 9
 
 1 30 Balzac. 
 
 her as I did when a child. The tears fall from 
 my eyes as I write these lines, tears of tender- 
 ness and of despair, for I feel my future near 
 at hand, and in my days of triumph my mother 
 will be a necessity. When will they come ? 
 As to you and to your husband, I can only hope 
 that you will never doubt my heart, and if I do 
 not write to you let your tenderness be indul- 
 gent. Do not misjudge my silence, but say, 
 rather, ' He thinks of us, he is speaking to us ; ' 
 for, after my long meditations and overwhelm- 
 ing duties, I rest in your hearts as in some 
 delicious spot where there is no pain." 
 
 In the same year, from Aix, he wrote to his 
 mother, 
 
 " I shall not return to Paris until all my en- 
 gagements are fulfilled ; when I do so every- 
 thing will have been paid off." 
 
 In 1833, to Madame Carraud, 
 
 " My life is mechanically changed. I go to 
 sleep with the chickens and am called at one in 
 the morning. I then work until eight o'clock, 
 sleep for an hour, and at nine I take a cup of 
 pure coffee, and remain in harness until four. I 
 then take a bath, and go out, and after dinner 
 return to bed. Profit is slow, and debts are 
 inexorable, but I am certain now of immense 
 wealth. I have but to wait and work for three 
 years." 
 
 In the following year, he wrote,
 
 The Chase for Gold, 131 
 
 " The fiascos of the ' Medecin de Campagne ' 
 and ' Louis Lambert ' have affected me deeply, 
 but I am resolved that nothing shall discourage 
 me. After the ist of August I think that I 
 shall be free." 
 
 And later on, in the same year, 
 " If I but live, I shall have a beautiful posi- 
 tion, and we will all be happy. Let us laugh 
 then still, my sweet sister ; the house of Balzac 
 will triumph yet." 
 
 To his mother he wrote, 
 " The day when we shall all be happy rap- 
 idly approaches. I begin to gather the fruit 
 of the sacrifices which I made for the sake 
 of future prosperity. In a few months I will 
 bring to you the ease and comfort which you 
 need. . . . Oh, my dear mother, you will yet 
 live to see my beautiful future ; for, in the end, 
 everything must bend beneath the work of him 
 who loves you, and is your devoted son." 
 In 1835 he wrote to Werdet, his publisher, 
 " Some day, and that day rapidly advances, 
 we shall both have made our fortune ; and 
 the sight of our carriages meeting in the Bois 
 will make our enemies swoon with envy." 
 To his mother, in the same year, he wrote, 
 " Do not be vexed at my silence. I not only 
 have a great deal to do, but I work twenty- 
 one hours and a half daily. A letter is not 
 only a loss of money, but an hour's sleep and 
 a drop of blood."
 
 132 Balzac. 
 
 To Madame Hanska he wrote, 
 
 " That you may know the extent of my cour- 
 age, I must tell you that the ' Secret des Rug- 
 gieri ' was written in one night, ' La Vieille 
 Fille ' in three, and ' La Perle Brisee,' which 
 terminates 'L'Enfant Maudit,' was composed 
 in a few hours of mental and physical agony. 
 It is my Brienne, my Champaubert, my Mont- 
 mirail. It is my campaign in France." 
 
 And to Madame Carraud, 
 
 " I sleep but five hours, and work eighteen. 
 I shall purchase the Grenadiere, 1 and pay my 
 debts. I need at least a year to be completely 
 free from debt, but the happiness of owing noth- 
 ing, which I thought impossible, is no longer a 
 chimera." 
 
 In October, 1836, he wrote to Madame 
 Hanska, 
 
 " You do not know the depths of my grief, 
 nor the sombre courage which accompanies 
 the second great defeat which I have experi- 
 enced. 2 The first occurred when I was barely 
 twenty-nine ; and then I had an angel at my 
 side.* To-day I am too old to inspire a senti- 
 ment of inoffensive protection. ... I am over- 
 come, but not conquered. My courage yet re- 
 
 1 A villa on the Loire. 
 
 2 The disastrous result of his lawsuit with the Revue 
 des Deux Mondes. 
 
 3 Madame de Berny, a devoted friend.
 
 The Chase for Gold. 133 
 
 mains. . . . During the past month, I have 
 worked from midnight until six in the evening; 
 and while I have observed the strictest diet, 
 that my brain might not be troubled by the 
 fatigue of digestion, nevertheless, I not only 
 suffer from indescribable weaknesses, but I also 
 experience nervous attacks of the most singu- 
 lar character. I sometimes lose the sense of 
 verticality, and even in bed it seems as though 
 my head fell to the right or to the left ; and 
 when I attempt to get up I am as though 
 weighed down by an enormous burden, which 
 seems to be in my brain. I understand now 
 how Pascal's absolute continence and exces- 
 sive brain work caused him continually to see 
 an abyss about him, and obliged him to sit 
 between two chairs. . . . But if I do not suc- 
 cumb in the mean time, two years of work will 
 suffice for the payment of everything." 
 
 To the same lady, two years later, he wrote, 
 " I am thirty-nine years old, and I owe two 
 hundred thousand francs. Belgium has stolen 
 a million from me." * 
 
 In 1838 he wrote to Madame Carraud, 
 " I have greater faith than ever in my work. 
 I have been offered twenty thousand francs for 
 a play. Hereafter, I shall devote my time to 
 the theatre ; books no longer pay. . . . You 
 have no idea how happy I shall be in a few 
 years. My gains will be enormous." 
 
 1 An allusion to the pirated -.d-tions of his works.
 
 134 Balzac. 
 
 A few months later he wrote, 
 
 " My debts and money troubles are the 
 same as ever, but my courage has redoubled 
 with the decrease of my desires. ... I hope 
 to remain here * for three or four months, and 
 then, if my plays succeed, it may be that over 
 and above my debts I shall have gained suf- 
 ficient capital to supply my daily bread, my 
 flowers, and my fruits. The rest, perhaps, will 
 come with time." 
 
 Continually overthrown, but never conquered, 
 in his letters during the next eight years he 
 seems to breathe the delicious idea of De Cus- 
 tine, that hope is the imagination of those 
 who are unhappy. In May, 1846, however, he 
 wrote to his sister, 
 
 " A series of terrible and unbelievable dis- 
 asters have happened to me. I am entirely 
 without money, and am being sued by those 
 who were friendly to me. ... I shall have to 
 work eighteen hours a day." 
 
 These terrible and unbelievable disasters 
 were the result of a debt of ten thousand francs, 
 which he owed to William Duckett, the editor 
 of the "Dictionnaire de la Conversation," who, 
 being in difficulties himself, was obliged not 
 only to sue Balzac, but to obtain an order for his 
 arrest. Balzac, however, was not to be found. 
 No trace of him was to be had at Passy, nor at 
 1 At Les Jardies.
 
 The Chase for Gold. 135 
 
 any of his several habitations, which, though 
 secret to the world at large, were necessarily 
 known to the police. One day, however, a wo- 
 man, whose advances to Balzac had not been 
 met with that degree of cordiality which she 
 had doubtless expected, called upon Duckett, 
 and told him that Balzac was to be found at 
 the residence of Madame Visconti, on the 
 Champs-filyse'es. 
 
 In an hour the house was surrounded, and 
 Balzac, interrupted in the middle of a chapter, 
 was informed that a cab awaited him at the 
 door. Madame Visconti, with a hospitality 
 which was simply royal, asked the amount of 
 the debt, and paid the ten thousand francs on 
 the spot. A few days later Balzac wrote to 
 Madame Hanska, 
 
 " You can form no idea of the life of a hunted 
 hare which I have led. Two years of calm and 
 tranquillity are absolutely necessary to soothe 
 my spirit, worn by sixteen years of successive 
 catastrophes. I am tired, very tired, of this 
 incessant struggle. My last debts are more 
 irksome than all the others which I have paid." 
 
 But now in regard to these debts, to the pay- 
 ment of which he seems to have devoted his 
 life, it is only natural to ask in what they con- 
 sisted and whence they carne : for they became 
 as famous as Balzac himself ; they followed him 
 about like a glittering retinue, and found their
 
 1 36 Balzac. 
 
 way not only into his correspondence, but into 
 his romances, and supplied him with a subject 
 of conversation of which he never tired. 
 
 Balzac, as has been seen, wished to be con- 
 sidered as much of a Monte Cristo as Dumas 
 himself, and could not, without causing his pen 
 to blush, permit it to be believed that he did not 
 extract from his books the same magnificent 
 harvest which was annually reaped by his rival. 
 The debt of 120,000 francs which had crippled 
 his early manhood was, with his habitual pro- 
 bity, soon wiped out ; but the remembrance of 
 it remained, and this remembrance, joined to 
 the annoyance caused by a few creditors, sug- 
 gested an innocent deceit which would explain 
 why he did not live in a palace and enjoy the 
 splendors of a literary monarch. He imagined, 
 therefore, and caused it to be understood that 
 he was not only immensely in debt, but that 
 the sums which he owed were fabulous ; and he 
 talked of them, wrote of them, and increased 
 them to such an extent that it was not long be- 
 fore they became even more celebrated than 
 the prodigalities of his confrere. 
 
 His debts, however, both real and imaginary, 
 were finally paid, and their liquidation was the 
 climax of the solitary romance of his life. 
 
 About the year 1835, he became acquainted 
 with the Countess Hanska, a Polish lady, of 
 great beauty and immense wealth, whose hu>
 
 The Chase for Gold. 137 
 
 band was an invalid. It has been stated on 
 what authority it has been difficult to discover 
 that when she accidentally met the author of 
 the " Comedie Humaine " her emotion was so 
 great that she lost consciousness. The better 
 opinion, however, would be that a correspon- 
 dence, begun on her side after the publication 
 of the " Medecin de Campagne," a work which 
 she greatly admired, was continued for a num- 
 ber of years before they finally met. Balzac 
 paid several visits to her Polish estates, and it 
 is probable that she frequently came to Paris. 
 After her husband's death marriage was natu- 
 rally thought of, but for the time being there 
 were many obstacles : Balzac's pecuniary posi- 
 tion was most unfortunate, while she, as a Rus- 
 sian subject, was not in a position to marry off- 
 hand. 
 
 The winter of 1848, as well as the spring of 
 the following year, Balzac passed at Vierzschov- 
 nia, with Madame Hanska and her children. 
 He was wretchedly ill, and the physicians had 
 forbiden any kind of mental labor. Incessant 
 work and the abuse of coffee had seriously un- 
 dermined his constitution and shattered his 
 nerves of steel, but the day to which he had 
 looked with such constant expectation had at 
 last arrived : his debts were not only paid, but 
 the revenues from the sale of his books were 
 magnificent.
 
 138 Balzac. 
 
 For some little time he had been preparing 
 in the Rue Fortunee now Rue Balzac a 
 superb residence. His taste in furniture and 
 works of art found ample expression there. 
 For one set of Florentine workmanship the 
 king of Holland himself was in treaty, while 
 his art gallery was the same as is described in 
 " Le Cousin Pons." 
 
 While he was in Poland his mother was his 
 general agent, and he wrote to her the most 
 minute directions of everything appertaining 
 to the house, its fixtures and decorations ; and 
 finally, on the iyth March, 1850, he wrote from 
 Vierzschovnia as follows : 
 
 " Three days ago I married the only woman 
 whom I have loved, whom I love more than 
 ever, and whom I shall love until death. I be- 
 lieve that this union is the recompense that 
 God has held in reserve for me through so 
 many adversities, years of work, and difficulties 
 suffered and overcome. My youth was unhappy 
 and my spring was flowerless, but I shall have 
 the most brilliant summer and the sweetest of 
 autumns." 
 
 Balzac had now fulfilled his two immense 
 desires : he was celebrated, he was beloved. 
 His own income combined with that which re- 
 mained to his wife she had, at his instance, 
 made over the greater portion of her fortune 
 to her children sufficed for the realization
 
 The Chase for Gold. 1 39 
 
 of his most extravagant dreams. " I shall 
 live to be eighty," he said. " I will terminate 
 the ' Comedie Humaine ' and write dozens of 
 dramas. I will have two children, not more ; 
 two look well on the front seat of a landau." 
 It was all too beautiful ; nothing remained but 
 death, and five months after his marriage, on 
 the 2oth of August, 1850, after thirty years of 
 ceaseless toil, at the very moment when the 
 world was his, Balzac, as a finishing touch to 
 his own " Etudes Philosophiques," died sud- 
 denly of disease of the heart. 
 
 At his grave in Pere-Lachaise is a simple 
 monument, bearing for epitaph that " single 
 name which tells all and makes the passer 
 dream ;" and here, at the very spot where Ra- 
 stignac, after the burial of Pere Goriot, hurled 
 his supreme defiance at Paris, Victor Hugo 
 delivered the funeral oration. 
 
 " Alas ! " he said, " this powerful and tireless 
 worker, this philosopher, this thinker and poet, 
 whose existence was filled with more labors 
 than days, passed among us that life of strug- 
 gles and combats common in all time to all 
 great men. To-day, at last, he is at peace : he 
 has taken leave of contests and hatreds, and 
 enters now both glory and the tomb. Here- 
 after he will shine above all the clouds about 
 us, high among the stars of our country."
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE THINKER. 
 " Un ^crivain doit se regarder comme un instituteur des homines." 
 
 BONALD. 
 
 BALZAC, to borrow a Hindu expression, was 
 " an artificer who built like a giant and fin- 
 ished like a jeweler." The groundwork of 
 the " Come'die Humaine " was grandly con- 
 ceived and admirably executed ; and though a 
 few of the balconies of its superb superstruc- 
 ture are incomplete, yet as, happily, master- 
 pieces are ever eternally young, it shows no 
 signs of decay, and there is little danger of its 
 falling in ruins. 
 
 For the decoration of this work, Balzac 
 brought a subtle analysis of men, women, and 
 things, and adorned it all with brilliant ideas 
 and profound reflections, of which the saddest 
 were dug from his own sufferings, and not, as 
 a great writer has said, from the hearts of his 
 mistresses. 
 
 As everything that he wrote is more or less 
 worthy of attention, a complete collection of 
 bis theories and teachings would be as impos-
 
 The Thinker. 141 
 
 sible, as an arrangement of Emerson's best 
 thoughts, and in any event would ill befit the 
 unpretentious character of this treatise. For 
 his elaborate monographs on religion, morality, 
 society, politics, science, and art, the reader 
 must turn to the complete edition of his writ- 
 ings; for in these pages the attempt will be 
 made to render only a handful of unsorted 
 aphorisms and reflections, taken at random, 
 of which the majority will be found to touch 
 merely upon every-day topics, and that in the 
 lightest possible vein. 
 
 With this brief explanation, for which your 
 indulgence is requested, the crier gives way to 
 the thinker. 
 
 A woman is to her husband that which her 
 husband has made her. 
 
 It is still a question, both in politics and 
 marriage, whether empires are overthrown and 
 happiness destroyed through over-confidence 
 or through too great severity. 
 
 A husband risks nothing in affecting to 
 believe his wife, and in patiently holding his 
 tongue. Of all things, silence worries a wo- 
 man most. 
 
 It is, perhaps, only those who believe in God 
 who do good in secret. 
 
 Statesmen, thinkers, men who have com- 
 manded armies, in a word, those who are
 
 142 Balzac. 
 
 really great, are natural and unaffected, and 
 their simplicity places one at once on an equal- 
 ity with them. 
 
 Comprehension is equality. 
 
 Discussion weakens all things. 
 
 Genius is intuition. 
 
 The most striking effects of art are but 
 rough counterfeits of nature. 
 
 To the despair of man, he can do nothing, 
 either for good or for evil, but that which is im- 
 perfect. His every work, be it intellectual or 
 physical, is stamped with the mark of destruc- 
 tion. 
 
 Avarice begins where poverty ends. 
 
 Dignity is but the screen of pride ; from be- 
 hind it we rage at our ease. 
 
 There are certain rich organizations, on 
 whom the extremes of happiness and misery 
 produce a soporific effect. 
 
 The most natural sentiments are those which 
 are acknowledged with the greatest repugnance. 
 
 The first requisite of revenge is dissimula- 
 tion. An avowed hatred is powerless. 
 
 It is in the nature of women to prove the im- 
 possible by the possible, and to destroy facts 
 with presentiments. 
 
 Power does not consist in striking hard and 
 often, but in striking with justice. 
 
 To stroll about the streets is in itself a sci- 
 ence ; it is the gastronomy of the eye.
 
 The Thinker. 143 
 
 Nowadays, to be hopelessly in love, or to 
 be wearied of life, constitutes social position. 
 
 Love is immense, but it is not infinite, while 
 science has limitless depths. 
 
 Prosperity brings with it an intoxication, 
 which inferior natures never resist. 
 
 It is but the heart that does not age. 
 
 The graces of manner and conversation are 
 gifts of nature, or the fruit of an education be- 
 gun at the cradle. 
 
 As soon as a misfortune occurs, some friend 
 or other is always ready to tell us, and to run a 
 dagger into our hearts, while expecting us to 
 admire the handle. 
 
 It is frequently at the very moment when 
 men most despair of their future that their 
 fortune begins. 
 
 To talk of love is to make love. 
 
 A married woman is a slave who needs a 
 throne. 
 
 The grandeur of desires is in proportion to 
 the breadth of the imagination. 
 
 A husband who leaves nothing to be desired 
 is lost. 
 
 There is no greater incentive to life than 
 the conviction that our death would bring hap- 
 piness to others. 
 
 Where there is no self-respect solitude is 
 hateful. 
 
 A lover has all the virtues and all the de- 
 fects that a husband has not.
 
 144 Balzac. 
 
 The more one judges the less one loves. 
 
 Chance is the great romancer ; to be prolific 
 one has but to study it. 
 
 Grief as well as pleasure has its initiation. 
 
 Apart from the comedian, the prince, and 
 the cardinal, there is a man at once prince and 
 comedian, a man robed in magnificent vest- 
 ments. I speak of the poet, who appears to do 
 nothing, yet who reigns above humanity when 
 he has known how to depict it. 
 
 Woman's virtue is perhaps a question of 
 temperament. 
 
 To live by the pen is a labor which galley- 
 slaves would refuse ; they would prefer death. 
 To live by the pen consists in creating, cre- 
 ating to-day, to-morrow, forever, ... or to ap- 
 pear to, and the appearance costs as much as 
 the reality. 
 
 I have never seen a badly dressed woman 
 who was agreeable and good-humored. 
 
 A woman's instinct is equivalent to the per- 
 spicacity of the wise. 
 
 In France, a witticism is to be heard on the 
 scaffold as well as at the barricades, and some 
 Frenchman or other will, I am sure, joke at the 
 general sessions of the last judgment. 
 
 All soldiers look alike. 
 
 In love, chance is the providence of wo- 
 men. 
 
 Literature and politics are to women to-day
 
 The Thinker. 145 
 
 that which religion was to them formerly, 
 the last asylum of their pretensions. 
 
 True sentiments are magnetic. 
 
 Misfortune creates in certain natures a vast 
 desert, which reechoes with the voice of God. 
 
 It is from the shock of characters, and not 
 from conflict of ideas, that antipathies are born. 
 
 When intelligent men begin to explain their 
 dispositions or give the key to their hearts they 
 are most assuredly drunk. 
 
 There are but few moral wounds which soli- 
 tude cannot cure. 
 
 When a woman is no longer jealous of her 
 husband the end is come ; she no longer loves 
 him. Conjugal affection expires in her last 
 quarrel. 
 
 A woman who is guided by her head, and not 
 by her heart, is a terrible companion : she has 
 all the defects of a passionate woman, with none 
 of her good qualities; she is without mercy, 
 without love, without virtue, without sex. 
 
 The revelation of chastity in man is inex- 
 pressibly radiant. 
 
 Misery is a tonic to some ; to others it is a 
 dissolvent. 
 
 A woman who has a lover becomes very in- 
 dulgent. 
 
 Power is clement, it is open to conviction, 
 it is just and undisturbed ; but the anger en- 
 gendered by weakness is pitiless. 
 to
 
 146 Balzac. 
 
 Monomanias are not contagious ; but where 
 the insanity lurks in constant discussions and 
 in the manner in which things in general are 
 regarded, then it may become so. 
 
 One of the misfortunes to which great minds 
 are subjected is that they are forced to under- 
 stand all things, vices as well as virtues. 
 
 Beauty is like nobility : it cannot be acquired. 
 
 Nothing good is to be expected of those 
 who acknowledge their faults, repent, and then 
 sin again. The truly great acknowledge their 
 faults to no one, but they punish themselves 
 accordingly. 
 
 Do not fear to make enemies, unfortunate 
 is he who has none ; but try to give no cause 
 for ridicule, and avoid the appearance of evil. 
 
 There is as much mud in the upper ranks of 
 society as in the lower, but in the former it is 
 gilded. 
 
 The most superb vengeance is the disdain of 
 one at hand. 
 
 Laws are not always so cruel as are the 
 usages of the world. 
 
 Historians are privileged liars, who lend their 
 pen to popular beliefs in the same manner that 
 our newspapers express but the sentiments of 
 their readers. 
 
 A lover is a herald who proclaims a woman's 
 merit, beauty, or wit. What does a husband 
 proclaim ?
 
 The Thinker. 147 
 
 A woman's real physiognomy does not begin 
 until she is thirty. Up to that age, the painter 
 finds in her face but pink and white, and a rep- 
 etition of the uniform and depthless smiles of 
 love and youth. 
 
 Science consists in imitating nature. 
 
 Through a peculiar mental contraction, wo- 
 men see only the defects in a man of talent, 
 and in a fool but his good qualities. 
 
 Love may be heard in the voice before it is 
 seen in the eyes. 
 
 The heart of a woman of twenty-five is as 
 little like that of a girl of eighteen as the heart 
 of a woman of forty is like that of a woman of 
 thirty : each age creates a new woman. 
 
 Love has its escutcheon. 
 
 Man clings to life in proportion to its infamy : 
 it is then a protestation, a vengeance of every 
 moment. 
 
 Glory is the deification of egotism. 
 
 He who foresees a bright future marches 
 through the miseries of existence like an inno- 
 cent man led to the scaffold. He knows not 
 shame. 
 
 The slow execution of works of genius de- 
 mands either a ready fortune or a cynical in- 
 difference to poverty. 
 
 No man can flatter himself that he knows a 
 woman and makes her happy until he sees her 
 continually at his feet.
 
 148 Balzac. 
 
 The Orientals sequestrate their women. A 
 woman who loves should sequestrate herself. 
 
 A cornice is the sweetest, the most submis- 
 sive, the most indulgent confidant that a wo- 
 man can find when she does not dare to look 
 her interlocutor in the face. The cornice of a 
 boudoir is an institution. It is a confessional 
 minus the priest. 
 
 True love appears in but one of two ways : 
 either at first sight, which is doubtless an effect 
 of second sight ; or else in the gradual fusion of 
 two natures, which is the realization of Plato's 
 androgyne. 
 
 A mother's heart is an abyss in whose depths 
 forgiveness is always to be found. 
 
 The practice of religion sometimes causes a 
 mental ophthalmia. 
 
 Life is made up of varied accidents, of al- 
 ternating griefs and joys. Dante's Paradise, 
 that changeless blue and sublime expression 
 of the ideal, is to be found but in the soul ; and 
 to demand it from the actualities of existence 
 is a luxury against which nature hourly pro- 
 tests. 
 
 It is despair, not hope, which gives the real 
 measure of our ambitions. We give ourselves 
 up in secret to the beautiful poems of hope, 
 but grief stands before us, unveiled. 
 
 The most ordinary and respectable of men 
 will, when with others, try to appear the rake.
 
 The Thinker. 149 
 
 Human justice is, I think, the development 
 of the thought which floats through space. 
 
 Through an inexplicable phenomenon, there 
 are many who have hope, but are lacking in 
 faith. Hope is the flower of desire; faith is 
 the fruit of certainty. 
 
 A petty work engenders pride, while mod- 
 esty is born of great achievements. 
 
 The problem of eternal beatitude is one 
 whose solution is known but to God. Here 
 below, poets bore their readers to death with 
 their pictures of Paradise. 
 
 It costs more to satisfy a vice than to feed 
 a family. 
 
 A husband should never permit himself to 
 say anything against his wife in the presence of 
 a third person. 
 
 Love prefers contrasts to similitudes. 
 
 The sentiment of wrong doing is in propor- 
 tion to the purity of the conscience, and an act 
 which to one is barely a fault will assume to 
 another the dimensions of a crime. 
 
 Woman lives by sentiment, where man lives 
 by action. 
 
 Probity, like virtue, should be divided into 
 two classes : to wit, negative and positive. The 
 former would refer to those who are honest so 
 long as no occasion to enrich themselves is of- 
 fered ; while the latter would refer to those who 
 face temptation and resist it.
 
 150 Balzac. 
 
 Woman, as a rule, feels, enjoys, and judges 
 successively; hence, three distinct periods, of 
 which the last coincides with the melancholy 
 approach of old age. 
 
 A lover is never in the wrong. 
 
 Distrust a woman who speaks of her virtue. 
 
 In love, there is nothing so persuasive as 
 courageous stupidity. 
 
 Weak natures are reassured as easily as they 
 are alarmed. 
 
 The most incurable wounds are those which 
 are made by the tongue or the eye, by mockery 
 or by disdain. 
 
 To two lovers the rest of the world is but 
 landscape. 
 
 Expiation is not obliteration. 
 
 A virtuous woman has a fibre more or a fibre 
 less than other women. She is stupid or sub- 
 lime. 
 
 Language in the magnificence of its phases 
 has nothing as varied and as eloquent as the 
 correspondence of the eyes and the harmony of 
 smiles. 
 
 The slave has his vanities ; he would prefer 
 to obey only the greatest of despots. 
 
 Customs are the hypocrisies of nations. 
 
 It is not enough for a man to be honest ; he 
 must appear so. 
 
 If a man is superstitious he is never thor- 
 oughly miserable. A superstition is a hope.
 
 T/te Thinker. 151 
 
 Expressionless beauty is an imposture. 
 
 A lack of taste in dress is a defect insepara- 
 ble from a false conception of religion. 
 
 It is more difficult to explain the difference 
 which exists between those who are swell and 
 those who are not than it is for those who are 
 not to efface the difference. 
 
 If a man is clever he will appear at once to 
 yield to a woman's whim, and then, while sug- 
 gesting a reason or two for its non-execution, 
 he will leave to her the right of changing her 
 mind as often as she chooses. 
 
 A woman who is happy does not go into so- 
 ciety. 
 
 Love is not simply a sentiment ; it is an art. 
 
 Doubt has two faces, of which one turns to 
 the light, and the other to darkness. 
 
 A husband should never fall asleep first nor 
 wake up last. 
 
 That expression of peace and serenity, which 
 sculptors give to the faces which are intended 
 to represent Justice and Innocence is a young 
 girl's greatest charm ; if it is assumed, girlhood 
 is dead within her. 
 
 In the lower classes women are not only su- 
 perior to men, but, as a rule, govern them com- 
 pletely. 
 
 To forestall the desires of a lover is a fault 
 in women which few men forgive. The major- 
 ity of them see but degradation in this celestial 
 flattery.
 
 152 Balzac. 
 
 When a love-letter is so well written that it 
 would afford pleasure to any third person who 
 might read it, it emanates most assuredly from 
 the brain, and not from the heart. 
 
 It takes an old woman to read an old wo- 
 man's face. 
 
 It is easier to be a lover than a husband, for 
 the same reason that it is more difficult to be 
 witty every day than now and then. 
 
 The woman who has laughed at her husband 
 can love him no longer. A man should be to 
 the woman who loves him a being full of 
 force and greatness, and continually imposing. 
 Households cannot last without despotism. 
 Nations, reflect upon it ! 
 
 A man seldom passes without remorse from 
 the position of confidant to that of rival. 
 
 When two women could kill each other, and 
 each sees a poisoned dagger in the other's 
 hand, they present a picture of harmony which 
 is touching and untroubled until one of them 
 accidentally drops her weapon. 
 
 Study is so motherly and good that it is al- 
 most a sin to ask of it other rewards than the 
 pure and sweet delights with which it nourishes 
 its children. 
 
 We must handle many lamps of Aladdin be- 
 fore we find that the real one is chance, or la- 
 bor, or genius. 
 
 In the life of every woman there is a mo-
 
 The Thinker. 153 
 
 ment when she understands her destiny, and in 
 which her organization, hitherto dumb, speaks 
 authoritatively. It is not always a man who 
 wakes this sixth and sleeping sense ; it may be 
 an unexpected spectacle, a landscape, some- 
 thing she has just read, a religious ceremony, a 
 concert of natural flowers, the caressing notes 
 of a strain of music ; in a word, some unex- 
 pected movement of the soul or body. 
 
 However malicious a man may be, he can 
 never say anything worse of women than they 
 think of themselves. 
 
 One may be both a great man and a wicked 
 one, as one may be a fool and a perfect lover. 
 
 The ancients were right in their worship of 
 beauty. Has not some traveler or other told 
 us that wild horses choose the most beautiful 
 among them for leader ? Beauty is the spirit 
 of all things. It is the seal which Nature has 
 placed on her most perfect creations. It is the 
 truest of symbols, and the one the most rarely 
 encountered. Who has ever thought of a de- 
 formed angel ? 
 
 We allow others to elevate themselves above 
 us, but we never forgive those who refuse to 
 descend to our level. 
 
 The customs of every class of society are 
 more or less alike, and differ only in degrees. 
 High life has a slang of its own, but its slang 
 is termed " style."
 
 154 Balzac. 
 
 A fact worthy of notice is the extent to which 
 we make engagements with ourselves, and the 
 manner in which we create our own lot in life. 
 Chance has assuredly not so much to do with 
 it as we think. 
 
 The weakest of thinking creatures is wounded 
 in that which is most dear when performing, 
 at the command of another, that which would 
 have been done unordered ; and the most 
 odious of all tyrannies is that which continually 
 divests of intention the merit of its actions and 
 thoughts. The word which is the easiest to 
 pronounce and the sentiment which is the sweet- 
 est to express dies within us when we feel that 
 it is commanded. We abdicate without having 
 reigned. 
 
 The art of marriage, as of literature, consists 
 solely in graceful transitions. 
 
 Events are never absolute. Their results 
 depend entirely on the individual. Misfortune 
 is a stepping-stone to genius, a treasure to the 
 adroit, but to the weak an abyss. 
 
 To forget is the great secret of strong and 
 creative lives, to forget utterly, after the man- 
 ner of Nature, who knows no past, and who 
 each hour recommences the mysteries of her 
 indefatigable parturitions. It is the weak who 
 live with grief, and who, instead of changing it 
 into apothegms of existence, toy and saturate 
 themselves therewith, and retrograde each day 
 to consummated misfortunes.
 
 The Thinker. 155 
 
 There are incommensurable differences be- 
 tween the man who mingles with others and 
 him who dwells with nature. Once captured, 
 Toussaint Louverture died without uttering a 
 word, while Napoleon, on his rock, chattered 
 like a magpie ; he wished to explain himself. 
 
 Man has a horror of solitude, and of all soli- 
 tudes the purely moral is the most terrible. 
 The early anchorites lived with God. They 
 dwelt in the spiritual world, which is the most 
 populous of all. Misers inhabit a world of 
 fantasy and delight ; for the miser has every- 
 thing, even to his sex, in his brain. Man's first 
 thought, then, be he leper or galley-slave, is to 
 find an accomplice to his destiny. To the sat- 
 isfaction of this aim, which is life itself, he em- 
 ploys all his strength and all his power. With- 
 out this sovereign desire, could Satan have 
 found companions ? 
 
 Solitude is inhabitable only by the man of 
 genius, who peoples it with ideas, or by the 
 contemplator of the universe, who sees it illu- 
 minated by the light of heaven and animated 
 by the voice of God. To others solitude is to 
 torture as the mind is to the body. It is suf- 
 fering multiplied by the infinite. 
 
 The moral of all things has puddles, from 
 which the world's dishonored, as they drown, 
 throw mud on others. 
 
 The study of the mysteries of thought, the
 
 156 Balzac. 
 
 discovery of the organs of the soul, the geom- 
 etry of the forces, the phenomena of its power, 
 the appreciation of the faculty which we seem 
 to possess of moving independently of the 
 body, in a word, the laws of its dynamics, 
 and those of its physical influence will con- 
 stitute the coming centuries' glorious share in 
 science. 
 
 We are obliged to accept the ideas of the 
 poet, the picture of the painter, the statue of the 
 sculptor ; but we all of us interpret music ac- 
 cording to our grief or our. happiness, our 
 hopes or our despair. Where other arts circle 
 our thoughts, and fix them on a determined ob- 
 ject, music sends them flitting over the expanses 
 of nature which it has the power to depict. 
 
 Thought is the key to every treasure. It 
 brings to us a miser's joy without his cares. 
 
 There is not a forest without its significance, 
 not a high-way nor a by-way which does not 
 present analogies with the labyrinth of human 
 thought. What man, whose mind is cultivated 
 or whose heart has suffered, ever walked in a 
 forest that the forest did not speak to him ? 
 Insensibly there arises a voice, either consoling 
 or terrible, and often consoling and terrible. 
 If the cause of the grave and mysterious sensa- 
 tion which then seizes him be sought, it will be 
 found, I think, in the sublime spectacle of crea- 
 tures obeying the destinies to which they are
 
 The Thinker. 157 
 
 immutably subjected. Sooner or later an over- 
 whelming sentiment of the permanence of na- 
 ture fills the heart, and the thought turns irre- 
 sistibly to God. 
 
 The more illegal the gain, the greater its 
 attraction. Such is the heart of man. 
 
 An out-and-out criminal rarely exists, for 
 there are few among us who do not permit 
 themselves one or two good actions, at least. 
 Be it from curiosity, from pride, for the sake 
 of contrast, or by accident, every man has had 
 his moment of kindliness and benevolence. 
 
 When we condemn a fellow creature in re- 
 fusing to him forever our esteem, we have but 
 ourselves to rely on ; and even so, have we the 
 right to make our hearts a tribunal, and sum- 
 mon our neighbor there ? Where would the 
 law be, in what would the measure of judg- 
 ment consist ? That which is our weakness 
 is perhaps his strength. To so many differ- 
 ent beings so many different circumstances 
 for each act, for no two occurrences are ever 
 the same. Society alone has the right to re- 
 press its members. As to punishment, I con- 
 test it ; the curb is sufficient, and cruel enough 
 at that. 
 
 The genius is he who perpetually impresses 
 his deeds with his thought. 
 
 When a man feels that he is destined to 
 great things, it is difficult for him to conceal
 
 158 Balzac. 
 
 it. The bushel has always crevices through 
 which the light must pass. 
 
 Women of the world have a marvelous tal- 
 ent for diminishing their faults. They can ef- 
 face anything with a smile, a question, or a 
 feigned surprise. They remember nothing, and 
 explain everything; they become astonished, 
 ask questions, criticise, amplify, quarrel, and 
 wind up by chasing their faults away, as easily 
 as they would a spot with a bit of soap. You 
 know them to be black, and in a moment they 
 have become white and innocent. As for you, 
 consider yourself lucky if, in the mean time, 
 they have not found you guilty of some unpar- 
 donable sin. 
 
 The fortune of a new word is made when it 
 answers to a class of men or things which oth- 
 erwise could not be described without peri- 
 phrasis. 
 
 One of the most important rules in the sci- 
 ence of manners is that you preserve an al- 
 most absolute silence concerning yourself. 
 Play the comedy, some day, of speaking of 
 your own interests to ordinary acquaintances, 
 and you will see feigned attention swiftly fol- 
 lowed by indifference, and then by weariness, 
 until every one has found a pretext for leaving 
 you. But if you wish to group about you the 
 sympathies of all, and to be considered a charm- 
 ing and agreeable fellow, talk to them of them-
 
 The Thinker. 159 
 
 selves, seek some way of bringing each into 
 action in turn ; then they will smile at you, 
 think well of you, and praise you when you 
 are gone. 
 
 There is no ease in the gestures of a soul- 
 less woman. 
 
 Instincts are implacable. If we disobey 
 them we are punished. There is one in par- 
 ticular which the animal obeys unhesitatingly : 
 it is the one which commands us to avoid the 
 person who has once injured us, whether the 
 injury was intentional or accidental. The 
 creature that lias harmed us once will be 
 always harmful : whatever his rank may be, 
 however nearly he may be related to us, break 
 with him at once ; he is an envoy of our evil 
 genius. 
 
 Prudence consists in never threatening; in 
 facilitating an enemy's retreat ; in not treading, 
 as the proverb has it, on the serpent's tail ; and 
 in avoiding, as one would a murder, an injury 
 to the self-esteem of an inferior. However 
 damaging to one's interest an act may be, in 
 the long run it is overlooked and explained in 
 a thousand different ways ; but wounded pride 
 bleeds always, and never forgives. 
 
 When two people are constantly together, 
 hatred and love grow apace ; every moment 
 brings a new reason for stronger affection oi 
 increased detestation.
 
 160 Balzac. 
 
 Love and hate are sentiments which feed on 
 themselves, but of the two hate is the stronger. 
 Love is limited ; its strength comes of life and 
 prodigality. But hate is like death ; it is in one 
 sense an active abstraction ; it subsists above 
 men and things. 
 
 To invent is lingering death ; to copy is to 
 live. 
 
 If men were frank, they would acknowledge 
 that misfortune has never taken them entirely 
 unawares, nor without first sending to them 
 some visible or occult warning. Many have 
 not understood the meaning of these myste- 
 rious monitions until after the shipwreck. 
 
 A singular fascination attaches to celebrity, 
 however acquired, and it would seem that with 
 women, as formerly with families, the glory of 
 a crime effaced the shame. As certain fami- 
 lies boast of decapitated ancestors, so does a 
 pretty woman become more attractive through 
 the renown of a terrible betrayal. We are 
 pitiless only to vulgar sentiments and common- 
 place adventures. 
 
 No moralist will deny that the well-bred, yet 
 corrupt, are much more agreeable than the 
 strictly exemplary ; for, having sins to ransom, 
 they are very indulgent to the defects of oth- 
 ers. Virtue, on the contrary, considers herself 
 sufficiently beautiful to dispense with any ef- 
 fort at being agreeable ; and besides, those who
 
 The Thinker. 
 
 are really virtuous have all a few slight suspi- 
 cions about their position, and, feeling that 
 they have been duped at the great bazar of 
 life, their speech has that bitter savor which 
 is peculiar to those who affect to be misunder- 
 stood. 
 
 The woman who is deformed, yet whose hus- 
 band considers her figure shapely ; the woman 
 who limps, yet whose husband would not have 
 her otherwise ; the woman who is old, and yet 
 seems young, are the happiest creatures in the 
 feminine world. The glory of a woman is in 
 making her defects beloved. To forget that a 
 woman who limps does not walk as she should 
 is the effect of momentary fascination, but to 
 love her because she does so is the deification 
 of her infirmity. In the gospel of women, this 
 sentence, I think, should be written : Blessed 
 are the imperfect, for theirs is the kingdom 
 of love. Beauty certainly must be a misfor- 
 tune to a woman, for its transient charm is 
 the mainspring of the sentiment which it in- 
 spires, and the beautiful woman is loved on 
 the same principle that leads a man to marry 
 an heiress. But the woman who is not dow- 
 ered with the fragile advantages which the 
 children of Adam seek is alone capable of in- 
 spiring that mysterious passion which never 
 wanes ; to her true love is given, and with it 
 the deathless embrace of the soul. The most 
 ii
 
 1 62 Balzac. 
 
 celebrated attachments in history were almost 
 all inspired by women in whom the vulgar 
 would have found defects, Cleopatra, Jeanne 
 de Naples, Diane de Poitiers, Mademoiselle 
 de la Valliere, Madame de Pompadour ; in a 
 word, the women whom love has rendered 
 most celebrated were wanting neither in imper- 
 fections nor in infirmities, while the majority of 
 women whose beauty has been cited as perfect 
 witnessed an unfortunate termination to their 
 love affairs. The cause of this apparent con- 
 tradiction is to be found in the fact that the 
 charm of physical beauty is limited, while psy- 
 chological attractions possess an infinite power; 
 and this, it may be noted, is undoubtedly the 
 moral of the fabulization of the " Thousand 
 and One Nights." 
 
 Suicide appears to me to be the climax of 
 a moral disorder, as natural death is the cli- 
 max of a physical one. Inasmuch, however, 
 as the moral faculties are subjected to the laws 
 of volition, should not their cessation coincide 
 with the manifestations of the intelligence ? 
 It is the thought, therefore, and not the pistol, 
 that kills. Besides, the fact that an accident 
 may destroy us at the moment when life is 
 most enjoyable should absolve the voluntary 
 termination of an unhappy existence. . . . 
 Suicide is the effect of a sentiment which may 
 be termed self-esteem, in contradistinction to
 
 The Thinker. 163 
 
 that of honor. When a man no longer respects 
 himself and finds himself no longer respected, 
 when the actuality of existence is at variance 
 with his hopes, he kills himself, and thereby 
 offers homage to the world in refusing to re- 
 main before it divested of his virtues or of his 
 splendors. . . . Suicide is of three distinct 
 classes : first, there is the suicide which is but 
 the crisis of a long illness, and undoubtedly 
 belongs to pathology ; then, there is the suicide 
 which is caused by despair ; and lastly, the 
 suicide from ratiocination. Of these three, the 
 first alone is irrevocable. Sometimes the three 
 classes unite, as in the case of Jean-Jacques 
 Rousseau. . . . Suicide was permitted by Epi- 
 curus. It was the finishing touch to his philos- 
 ophy. Where there was no enjoyment to the 
 senses it was right and proper for the animated 
 being to seek repose in inanimate nature. Man's 
 only aim consisting in happiness, or in the hope 
 of happiness, death became a benefit to him who 
 suffered, and who suffered hopelessly. He did 
 not recommend suicide, nor did he blame it ; 
 he was content to say, " Death is not a sub- 
 ject for laughter, nor is it a subject for tears." 
 More moral and more imbued with the senti- 
 ment of duty, Zeno in certain cases forbade 
 suicide to the stoic. Man, he taught, differs 
 from the brute in that he disposes sovereignly 
 of his person ; divested of the right of life and
 
 164 Balzac. 
 
 death over himself, he becomes the slave of 
 men and events. To man, therefore, freedom 
 in all things should belong : freedom from pas- 
 sions, which should be sacrificed to duties ; 
 freedom from fellow creatures in exhibiting 
 the steel or the poison which disarms attack ; 
 freedom from destiny in setting a limit be- 
 yond which it can have no effect. . . . Among 
 the atheists of to-day, the coward alone accepts 
 a dishonored life.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 
 
 " Habent sua fati libelli." MARTIAL. 
 
 THE following catalogue is a list of the 
 works which are contained in the " Comedie 
 Humaine," together with those with which it 
 was to have been completed. The titles in 
 italics are those of the latter class. 
 
 Thereto will be found appended a complete 
 list, chronologically arranged, of Balzac's nov- 
 els, as well as of all his treatises, essays, ar- 
 ticles, and plays, together with an account of 
 the different positions which they occupied. 
 Some of these works were published anony- 
 mously, several were written in collaboration 
 with other writers, many appeared under confus- 
 ing pseudonyms, while reference to the original 
 editions prove that the majority of the works 
 now comprised in the Edition Definitive 1 bear 
 dates singularly at variance with those of their 
 first publication. The preparation of this cata- 
 logue has not been, therefore, an easy task ; and 
 while it still leaves much to be desired, the 
 compiler hopes that it may nevertheless be of 
 some value to the Balzac bibliophile. 
 
 1 (Euvres Computes de H. de Balzac. Calmann Levy, 
 Paris.
 
 1 66 Balzac. 
 
 THE COMEDIE HUMAINE. 
 
 First part. ETUDES DE MCEURS. 
 Second part. ETUDES PHILOSOPHIQUES. 
 Third part. ETUDES ANALYTIQUES. 
 
 FIRST PART. ETUDES DE MCEURS. 
 Six divisions. 
 
 I. Scenes de la Vie Prive'e. 
 II. Scenes de la Vie de Province. 
 
 III. Scenes de la Vie Parisienne. 
 
 IV. Scenes de la Vie Politique. 
 V. Scenes de la Vie Militaire. 
 
 VI. Scenes de la Vie de Campagne. 
 
 I. SCENES DE LA VIE PRIVEE. Four volumes. 
 
 i. Les Enfants. 2. Un Pensionnat de Demoi- 
 selles. 3. Interieur de College. 4. La Maison 
 du Chat qui Pelote. 5. Le Bal de Sceaux. 6. 
 Memoires de Deux Jeunes Mariees. 7. La 
 Bourse. 8. Modeste Mignon. 9. Un De'but 
 dans la Vie. 10. Albert Savarus. n. La Ven- 
 detta. 12. Une Double Famille. 13. La Paix 
 du Menage. 14. Madame Firmiani. 15. 
 fitude de Femme. 16. La Fausse Maitresse. 
 17. Une Fille d'Eve. 18. Le Colonel Chabert. 
 19. Le Message. 20. La Grenadiere. 21. La 
 Femme Abandonne'e. 22. Honorine. 23. BeV 
 trix. 24. Gobseck. 25. La Femme de Trente
 
 Bibliography. 167 
 
 Ans. 26. Le Pere Go riot. 27. Pierre Grassou. 
 28. La Messe de I'Athe'e. 29. L'Interdiction. 
 30. Le Contrat de Mariage. 31. Gendres 
 et Belles-Meres. 32. Autre fitude de Femme. 
 
 II. SCENES DE LA VIE DE PROVINCE. Four vol- 
 umes. 
 
 33. Le Lys dans la Vallee. 34. Ursula Mi- 
 rouet. 35. Eugenie Grandet. 36. Les Celi- 
 bataires I. Pierrette. 37. Idem : II. Le 
 Curd de Tours. 38. Idem : III. Un Manage de 
 Gar^on en Province. 39. Les Parisiens en 
 Province : I. L'lllustre Gaudissart 40. Idem : 
 
 II. Les Gens Rides. 41. Idem : III. La Muse 
 du Departement. 42. Idem : IV. Une Actrice en 
 Voyage. 43. La Femme Superieure. 44. Les 
 Rivalites: I. E Original. 45. Idem : II. Les He- 
 ritiers de Boirouge. 46. Idem : La Vieille Fille. 
 47. Les Provinciaux a Paris: I. Le Cabinet 
 des Antiques. 48. Idem: II. Jacques de Metz. 
 
 49. Illusions Perdues : I. Les Deux Poetes. 
 
 50. Idem : II. Un Grand Homme de Province 
 a Paris. 51. Idem : III. Eve et David. 
 
 III. SCENES DE LA VIE PARISIENNE. Four vol- 
 
 umes. 
 
 52. Histoire des Treize : I. Ferragus. 53. 
 Idem : II. La Duchesse de Langeais. 54. Idem : 
 III. La Fille aux Yeux d'Or. 55. Les Employe's. 
 56. Sarrasine. 57. Grandeur et Decadence de
 
 1 68 Balzac. 
 
 Cdsar Birotteau. 58. La Maison Nucingen. 59. 
 Facino Cane. 60. Les Secrets de la Princesse 
 de Cadignan. 61. Splendeurs et Miseres des 
 Courtisanes : I. Esther Heureuse. 62. Idem: II. 
 A combien 1' Amour revient aux Vieillards. 63. 
 Idem : III. Ou menent les Mauvais Chemins. 
 64. Idem : IV. La Derniere Incarnation de Vau- 
 trin. 65. Les Grands, F Hbpital, et le Peuple. 
 66. Un Prince de la Boheme. 67. Les Come'- 
 diens sans le Savoir. 68. Un Homme d'Af- 
 faires. 69. Gaudessart II. 70. Les Petits 
 Bourgeois. 71. Entre Savants. 72. Le The- 
 atre comme il est. 73. Les Freres de la Conso- 
 lation (L'Envers de 1'Histoire Contemporaine) 
 
 (unnumbered). Les Parents Pauvres : I. 
 
 La Cousine Bette. Idem : II. Le Cousin Pons. 
 
 IV. SCENES DE LA VIE POLITIQUE. Three vol- 
 
 umes. 
 
 74. Un Episode sous la Terreur. 75. 
 EHistoire et le Roman. 76. Une Tenebreuse 
 Affaire. 77. Les Deux Ambitieux. 78. E At- 
 tache de PAmbassade. 79. Comment on fait un 
 Ministere. 80. Le De'pute d'Arcis. 81. Z. 
 Marcas. 
 
 V. SCENES DE LA VIE MILITAIRE. Four vol- 
 
 umes. 
 
 82. Les Soldats de la Republique. 83. En- 
 tree en Campagne. 84. Les Vendeens. 85. Les
 
 Bibliography. 169 
 
 Chouans. 86. Les Fran$ais en Egypte: I. Pre- 
 mier Episode. 87. Idem : II. Le Prophete. 88. 
 Idem : III. Le Pacha. 89. Une Passion dans 
 le Desert. 90. LArm.ee Roulante. 91. La Garde 
 Consulaire. 92. Sous Vienne: I. 7 Combat. 
 93. Idem: II. L Armee Assiegee. 94. Idem: III. 
 Z# Plaine de Wagram. 95. L' Aubergiste. 96. 
 Zw Anglais en Espagne. 97. Moscou. 98. 
 Za Bataille de Dresde. 99. Z^r Trainards. 
 100. Z^r Partisans. 101. 7#^ Croisiere. 102. 
 Z^J Pontons. 103. Z0 Campagne de France. 
 104. Z<r Dernier Champ de Bataille. 105. 
 L'Emir. 106. Za Penissiere. 107. Z^ Cbr- 
 Alerien. 
 
 VI. SCENES DE LA VIE DE CAMPAGNE. Two 
 volumes. 
 
 108. Les Paysans. 109. Le Me'decin de Cam- 
 pagne. no. Le Juge de Paix. in. Le Curd 
 de Village. 1 12. Z*?.r Environs de Paris. 
 
 SECOND PART. ETUDES PHILOSOPHIQUES. 
 Three -volumes. 
 
 113. Z> Phedon d> Aujourdhui, 114. La 
 Peau de Chagrin. 115. Je'sus-Christ en Flan- 
 dre. 1 1 6. Melmoth Reconcilie'. 117. Mas- 
 similla Doni. 118. Le Chef d'CEuvre In- 
 connu. 119. Gambara. 120. Balthazar Clae's, 
 ou la Recherche de 1'Absolu. 121. Le Pre- 
 sident Toutot. 122. Le Philanthrope. 123.
 
 170 Balzac. 
 
 L'Enfant Maudit. 124. Adieu. 125. LesMa- 
 rana. 126. Le Requisitionnaire. 127. El 
 Verdugo. 128. Un Drame au Bord dela Mer. 
 129. Maitre Cornelius. 130. L'Auberge Rouge. 
 131. Sur Catherine de Me'dicis : I. Le Martyr 
 Calviniste. 132. Idem : II. La Confession de 
 Ruggieri. 133. Idem : III. Les Deux Reves. 
 134. Le Nouvel Abeilard. 135. L'filixir de 
 Longue Vie. 136. La Vie et les Aventures d'une 
 Idee. 137. Les Proscrits. 138. Louis Lam- 
 bert. 139. Seraphita. 
 
 THIRD PART. ELUDES ANALYTIQUES. 
 Two volumes. 
 
 140. Anatomie des Corps Enseignants. 141. 
 Physiologic du Mariage. 142. Pathologic de 
 la Vie Socials. 143. Monographic de la Vertu. 
 144. Dialogue Philosophique et Politique stir la 
 Perfection du XIXe Siecle. 145. Petites Mi- 
 seres de la Vie Conjugate. 
 
 1822. 
 
 L'Heritiere de Birague, histoire tiree des 
 manuscripts de dom Rago, ex-prieur des Bene- 
 dictins, mise a jour par ses deux neveux, A. 
 de Viellergle et Lord R'hoone. Four volumes 
 in-i2. Hubert. 1822. 
 
 Jean-Louis, ou la Fille Trouvee, par A. de 
 Viellergle et Lord R'hoone. Four volumes in- 
 12. Hubert. 1822.
 
 Bibliography. 171 
 
 Clotilde de Lusignan, ou le Beau Juif : man- 
 uscript trouve dans les archives de la Province 
 et public par Lord R'hoone. Four volumes in- 
 12. Hubert. 1822. This romance was re- 
 published in 1836 under the title of L'Israelite, 
 and signed Horace de Saint-Aubin. 
 
 Le Centenaire, ou les Deux Beringheld, by 
 Horace de Saint-Aubin. Four volumes. Pol- 
 let. 1822. This romance was republished in 
 1837 under the title of Le Sorcier. 
 
 Le Vicaire des Ardennes, by Horace de 
 Saint-Aubin. Four volumes. Pollet. 1822. 
 
 1823. 
 
 La Derniere Fee, by Horace de Saint-Aubin. 
 Two volumes. Barba. 1823. Second edition, 
 considerably enlarged. Delongchamps. 1824. 
 
 1824. 
 
 Du Droit d'Ainesse. Published in pamphlet 
 form, and signed " par M. D ." Delong- 
 champs, Dentu et Petit. 1824. 
 
 Histoire Impartiale des Jesuits. Anonymous. 
 Delongchamps. April, 1824. 
 
 Annette et le Criminel, a continuation of Le 
 Vicaire des Ardennes, signed Horace de Saint- 
 Aubin. Four volumes. Buissot. 1824. Re- 
 published in 1836 under the title of Argore le 
 Pirate.
 
 172 Balzac. 
 
 1825. 
 
 Code des Gens Honnetes, ou 1'Art de ne pas 
 etre Dupe des Fripons. Written in collabora- 
 tion with Horace Raisson. Anonymous. Barba. 
 1825. 
 
 Wann-Chlore. Anonymous. Four volumes. 
 Canel et Delongchamps. 1825. This romance 
 was republished in 1836 under the title of Jane 
 la Pale, signed Horace de Saint-Aubin. 
 
 Moliere. Introduction to Les CEuvres Com- 
 pletes de Moliere. One volume. Delong- 
 champs. 1825. 
 
 1826. 
 
 La Fontaine. Introduction to Les CEuvres 
 Completes de La Fontaine. One volume. H. 
 de Balzac and A. Sautelet. 1826. 
 
 Petit Dictionnaire des Enseignes de Paris. 
 Published by Balzac in 1826, and signed "Un 
 Batteur de PaveV' 
 
 1829. 
 
 Le Dernier Chouan. The first edition was 
 published by Urbain Cabanel. Four volumes 
 in-i2. The second edition, entitled Les Chou- 
 ans, was published by Vimont in 1834. In 1846 
 Les Chouans reappeared in the first edition of 
 the Scenes de la Vie Militaire. 
 
 Fragoletta. Criticism. Le Mercure du XIXe 
 Siecle. 
 
 Physiologic du Mariage. The first edition
 
 Bibliography. 173 
 
 was published anonymously. Two volumes in- 
 8. Urbain Cabanel. The second edition, 
 signed, appeared in 1834. Ollivier. In 1846 
 it entered the first edition of the Etudes Ana- 
 lytiques. 
 
 1830. 
 
 tude de Mceurs par les Gants. La Silhou- 
 ette, 9 January, 1830. 
 
 El Verdugo. Originally appeared in La 
 Mode, 29 January, and entitled Souvenirs Sol- 
 datesques. In 1835 it entered the fourth edi- 
 tion of the fitudes Philosophiques. 
 
 Une Vue de Touraine. La Silhouette, n 
 February. 
 
 Complaintes Satiriques. La Mode, 12 Feb- 
 ruary. 
 
 Un Homme Malheureux. La Silhouette, 18 
 February. 
 
 L'Usurier. First chapter of Gobseck. La 
 Mode, 26 February. 
 
 FJ:ude de Femme. Originally appeared in 
 La Mode, 12 March, 1830. It reappeared in 
 1831 in the Romans et Contes Philosophiques, 
 by H. de Balzac. Three volumes. Gosselin. 
 In 1842 it entered the first volume of the fifth 
 edition of the Scenes de la Vie Prive'e. 
 
 Visiles. I. Un Pensionnat de Demoiselles. 
 II. L' Atelier d'un Peintre. La Mode, 2 and 
 6 April. Signed "Comte Alex, de ." 
 
 Voyage pour 1'fiternite. La Silhouette, 15 
 April.
 
 174 Balzac. 
 
 L'fipicier. La Silhouette, 25 April. 
 
 Des Artistes. Three articles. La Silhouette, 
 25 February, n March, 22 April. 
 
 La Paix du Menage. Originally published 
 in the first edition of the Scenes de la Vie 
 Prive'e. Two volumes in-8. Maure et Delau- 
 nay-Valle'e. 
 
 These volumes also contained : 
 
 La Maison du Chat-qui-pelote, then entitled 
 Gloire et Malheur ; Le Bal de Sceaux ; La 
 Vendetta, and La Femme Vertueuse (Une 
 Double Famille). 
 
 Le Bibliophile Jacob. Le Voleur, 5 May. 
 
 Le Charlatan. La Silhouette, 6 May. 
 
 L'Oisif et le Travailleur. La Mode, 8 May. 
 
 Madame Tontendieu. La Silhouette, 8 May. 
 
 Mceurs Aquatiques. La Silhouette, 20 May. 
 
 Des Mots a la Mode. La Mode, 22 May. 
 
 De la Mode en Litterature. La Mode, 29 
 May. 
 
 Nouvelle Theorie du Dejeuner. La Mode, 
 29 May. 
 
 Adieu. Originally appeared in La Mode, 15 
 May. In 1832, under the title of Le Devoir 
 d'une Femme, it appeared in the first edition of 
 the Scenes de la Vie Privee, but in 1835 ^ be- 
 came incorporated in the fitudes Philoso- 
 phiques. 
 
 fitude de Philosophic Morale. La Silhouette, 
 17 June.
 
 Bibliography. 175 
 
 De la Vie de Chateau. La Mode, 26 June. 
 
 Physiologic de Toilette. La Silhouette, 3 
 June. 
 
 Physiologic Gastronomique. La Silhouette, 
 15 August. 
 
 Gavarni. La Mode, 2 October. 
 
 L'lixir de Longue Vie. Originally pub- 
 lished in La Revue de Paris, October, 1830. 
 In 1835 it entered the Etudes Philosophiques. 
 
 Le Ministre. Prospectus of La Caricature. 
 
 Croquis. La Caricature, October. 
 
 Une Vue du Grand Monde. La Caricature, 
 October. 
 
 Ressouvenirs. La Caricature, November. 
 
 Les Voisins. La Caricature, November. 
 
 Une Consultation. La Caricature, Novem- 
 ber. 
 
 L'Opium. La Caricature, November. 
 
 La Reconnaissance du Gamin. La Carica- 
 ture, November. 
 
 La Colique. La Caricature, November. 
 
 L'Archeveque. La Caricature, November. 
 
 This last fantasy contains the germ of La 
 Belle Impe'ria. It may be noted that none of 
 Balzac's contributions to La Caricature were 
 signed by his own name, his different pseudo- 
 nyms being Alf. Condreux, Le C te Alex de 
 B , Henry de B , and E. Morisseau. 
 
 Traite' de la Vie Itle'gante. La Mode, 2, 9, 
 1 6, and 23 October. These articles were re- 
 published in La Librarie Nouvelle in 1853.
 
 176 Balzac. 
 
 La Comedie du Diable. La Mode, 13 No- 
 vember. In 1831 La Come'die du Diable was 
 republished in the first edition of the Romans 
 et Contes Philosophiques, but it has never 
 formed part of the Comedie Humaine. 
 
 Des Salons Litteraires. La Mode, 20 No- 
 vember. 
 
 La Tour de la Birette. La Silhouette, 21 
 November. 
 
 Le Garc.cn de Bureau. La Caricature, 25 
 November. 
 
 Sarrasine. Originally published in La Revue 
 de Paris, November, 1830. In 1831 it formed 
 part of the Romans et Contes Philosophiques, 
 and subsequently entered the Scenes de la Vie 
 Prive'e. 
 
 Des Caricatures. La Caricature, 2 Decem- 
 ber. 
 
 Une Lutte. La Caricature, 9 December. 
 
 Les Litanies Romantiques. La Caricature, 
 9 December. 
 
 La Danse des Pierres. A fragment of the 
 legend entitled Je'sus-Christ en Flandre. La 
 Caricature, 9 December. 
 
 De ce qui n'est pas a la Mode. La Carica- 
 ture, 10 December. 
 
 Le Petit Mercier. La Caricature, 16 Decem- 
 ber. Portions of this article reappeared in La 
 Fille aux Yeux d'Or. 
 
 La Mort de ma Tante. La Caricature, 16 
 December.
 
 Bibliography. 177 
 
 Le Dernier Napoleon. La Caricature, 16 
 December. This article, rearranged, forms the 
 commencement of La Peau du Chagrin. 
 
 Une Garde. La Caricature, 23 December. 
 
 Si j'e'tais Riche. La Caricature, 23 December. 
 
 Vengeance d' Artiste. La Caricature, 23 De- 
 cember. 
 
 Entre-Filet. La Caricature, 23 December. 
 
 Une Inconsequence. La Caricature, 30 De- 
 cember. 
 
 Les Horloges Vivantes. La Caricature, 30 
 December. 
 
 Les fitrennes. La Caricature, 30 December. 
 
 Une Passion dans le Desert. Originally ap- 
 peared in the Revue de Paris, 24 December, 
 1830. In 1837 it was republished in the fourth 
 edition of the fetudes Philosophiques, but in 
 1846 it was changed to the Scenes de la Vie 
 Militaire. 
 
 Un Episode sous la Terreur. Published as 
 introduction to the Me'moires de Samson. Two 
 volumes. Maure et Delaunay. Reappeared in 
 1845 in Le Royal Keepsake, and in 1846 en- 
 tered the first edition of the Scenes de la Vie 
 Politique. 
 
 Souvenirs d'un Paria. Contained in the fore- 
 going volume. 
 
 Lettres sur Paris. Nineteen contributions to 
 Le Voleur, unsigned, dating from 26 Septem- 
 ber, 1830, to 29 March, 1831.
 
 1/8 Balzac. 
 
 1831. 
 
 Les Deux Dragons. La Silhouette, 2 January. 
 
 La Grisette. La Caricature, 6 January. 
 
 Paris en 1831. La Caricature, 24 March. 
 
 Un Importun. La Caricature, 24 March. 
 
 Un Deputd d'Alors. La Caricature, 24 
 March. 
 
 Le Cornac de Carlsruhe. La Caricature, 3 1 
 March. 
 
 Le Dimanche. La Caricature, 31 March. 
 
 Opinion de mon Spicier. La Caricature, 7 
 April. 
 
 Longchamps. La Caricature, 7 April. 
 
 L'Embuscade. La Caricature, 7 April. 
 
 Une Semaine. La Caricature, 14 April. 
 
 De PIndifference en Matiere Politique. La 
 Caricature, 14 April. 
 
 Le Requisitionnaire. Originally appeared in 
 the Revue de Paris, 23 February, 1831. It 
 was republished, same year, in the Romans et 
 Contes Philosophiques, and in 1846 was col- 
 lected in the Etudes Philosophiques. 
 
 L'Enfant Maudit. First part originally ap- 
 peared in the Revue des Deux Mondes, Janu- 
 ary, 1831. It was republished the same year 
 in the Romans et Contes, and was subsequently 
 collected in the Eludes Philosophiques. 
 
 Des Signes Particuliers. La Caricature, 21 
 April.
 
 Bibliography. 1 79 
 
 Les Proscrits. Originally appeared in the 
 Revue de Paris, May, 1831 ; was republished in 
 the Romans et Contes. In 1835 ^ formed, with 
 Louis Lambert and Se'raphita, a volume enti- 
 tled Le Livre Mystique. Werdet. In 1840 it 
 entered the Eludes Philosophiques. 
 
 Enquete sur la Politique des Deux Minis- 
 teres. Published in pamphlet form, and signed 
 M. de Balzac, electeur eligible. April, 1831. 
 A. Levavaseur. 
 
 Tableau d'un Interieur de Famille. La Car- 
 icature, 12 May. 
 
 Le Provincial. La Caricature, 12 May. 
 
 Inconvdnients de la Presse. La Caricature, 
 12 May. 
 
 Le Patriotisme de Clarice. La Caricature, 
 26 May. 
 
 Un Pantalon de Poil de Chevre. La Carica- 
 ture, 27 May. 
 
 Le Suicide d'un Poete (a fragment of La 
 Peau du Chagrin). Was published originally 
 in the Revue de Paris, May, 1831. The entire 
 work appeared in August of the same year in 
 two volumes. Gosselin. It was subsequently 
 collected in the Eludes Philosophiques. 
 
 Un Ddjeuner sous le Pont Royal. La Cari- 
 cature, 2 June. 
 
 Ordre Public. La Caricature, 9 June. 
 
 Une Stance a 1'Hotel Bullion. La Carica- 
 ture, 1 6 June.
 
 1 80 Balzac. 
 
 Conseil des Ministres. La Caricature, 16 
 June. 
 
 Croquis. La Caricature, 16 June. 
 
 La Belle Imperia. Revue de Paris, 7 June. 
 
 Dom Pedro II. La Caricature, 23 June. 
 
 Maniere de faire ICmeute. La Caricature, 
 23 June. 
 
 Un Conspirateur Moderne. La Caricature, 
 21 July. 
 
 Physiologic des Positions. La Caricature, 
 21 July. 
 
 Rondo Brilliant et Facile a 1'Usage des Com- 
 mengants en Politique. La Caricature, 28 July. 
 
 Le Banquier. La Caricature, 4 August. 
 
 Le Chef d'CEuvre Inconnu. Published orig- 
 inally in L' Artiste, it was subsequently inserted 
 in the Etudes Philosophiques. 
 
 Physiologic de PAdjoint. La Caricature, n 
 August. 
 
 Deux Rencontres en un An. La Caricature, 
 ii August. 
 
 Les Grands Acrobates. La Caricature, 18 
 August. 
 
 Un Fait Personnel. La Caricature, 18 Au- 
 gust. 
 
 L'Auberge Rouge. Appeared originally in 
 the Revue de Paris, 10 and 27 August. It was 
 subsequently inserted in the fitudes Philoso- 
 phiques. 
 
 Le Claquer. La Caricature, 8 September.
 
 Bibliography. 1 8 1 
 
 Vingt et Un Septembre, 1822. La Carica- 
 ture, 22 September. 
 
 Jesus-Christ en Flandre. First appeared in 
 the Romans et Contes Philosophiques. In 
 1845 it was inserted among the Etudes Philos- 
 ophiques. 
 
 Le Sous-Prefet. La Caricature, 6 October. 
 
 Exaltation des Ministres. La Caricature, 6 
 October. 
 
 Moralitd d'une Bouteille de Champagne. La 
 Caricature, 20 October. 
 
 Eludes Critiques. La Caricature, 3 Novem- 
 ber. 
 
 Physiologic du Cigare. La Caricature, 10 
 November. 
 
 La Fortune en 1831. La Caricature, 17 No- 
 vember. 
 
 Grand Concert Vocal. La Caricature, 24 
 November. 
 
 L'Embarras du Choix. La Caricature, i De- 
 cember. 
 
 Les Six Degrds de Crime et de la Vertu. La 
 Caricature, 15 December. 
 
 De'tails Inddits. La Caricature, 29 December. 
 
 Maitre Cornelius. Originally published in the 
 Revue de Paris, was afterwards inserted among 
 the Eludes Philosophiques. 
 
 1832. 
 
 Une Journe'e du Nez de M. d'Argout. La 
 Caricature, 12 January.
 
 1 82 Balzac. 
 
 Deux Destinees d'Homme. La Caricature, 
 26 January. 
 
 Religion Saint-Simonienne. La Caricature, 
 26 January. 
 
 Le Depart. A sketch published in a book en- 
 titled L'meraude. Urbain Canel. 
 
 Histoire du Chevalier du Beauvoir, and Le 
 Grand d'Espagne. Originally appeared in an ar- 
 ticle entitled Conversation entre Onze Heures 
 et Minuit. These two stories were afterwards 
 inserted in La Muse du Departement. Conver- 
 sation entre Onze Heures et Minuit formed 
 part of a volume entitled Les Contes Bruns, 
 which was published anonymously by Balzac, 
 Philarete Chasles, and Charles Rabou. 
 
 La Maitresse de Notre Colonel. An extract 
 from Conversation entre Onze Heures et Mi- 
 nuit. It was afterwards inserted in Autre tude 
 de Femme. 
 
 De'part d'une Diligence. La Caricature, 9 
 February. 
 
 Voila mon Homme. La Caricature, 23 Feb- 
 ruary. 
 
 Madame Firmiani. Originally appeared in 
 the Revue de Paris, February, 1832. In the 
 same year it was published in the Nouveaux 
 Contes Philosophiques de Balzac, and entered 
 in 1842 the fifth edition of the Scenes de la Vie 
 Privee. 
 
 Le Message. Originally appeared in the
 
 Bibliography. 183 
 
 Revue des Deux Mondes, 15 February, 1832. 
 In 1842 it entered the fifth edition of the 
 Scenes de la Vie Privee. 
 
 Le Colonel Chabert. Originally entitled La 
 Comtesse a Deux Maris. This story first ap- 
 peared in L' Artiste, February and March, 1832. 
 It reappeared the same year in Salmigundis, a 
 collection of nouvelles by different authors, 
 published by Fournier Jeune, in twelve vol- 
 umes, and in 1844 entered the third edition of 
 the Scenes de la Vie Parisienne. 
 
 Proces de la Caricature. La Caricature, 15 
 March. 
 
 Sur la Destruction Projete'e du Monument 
 du Due de Berry. Le Renovateur, 31 March. 
 
 Le Philipotin. La Caricature, 22, 29 March 
 and 5 April. 
 
 Terme d'Avril. La Caricature, 19 April. 
 
 La Vie d'une Femme. Le Rdnovateur, 19 
 May. 
 
 Face'ties Chole'riques. La Caricature, 26 
 April. 
 
 Contes Drolatiques, Premier Dizain. One 
 volume in-8. Charles Gosselin, April, 1832. 
 
 Le Refus. Published with other stories, by 
 different authors, in a book entitled Le Sa- 
 phir. Urbain Canel, 1832. 
 
 Le Curd de Tours. First published in the 
 second edition of the Scenes de la Vie Prive'e. 
 In 1843 it was changed to the Scenes de la 
 Vie de Province, third edition.
 
 184 Balzac. 
 
 La Grande Breteche. First published in the 
 second edition of the Scenes de la Vie Prive'e, 
 and entitled Le Conseil. Under this heading 
 was also grouped Le Message. 
 
 La Bourse. First published in the second 
 edition of the Scenes de la Vie Privee ; : t was 
 afterwards inserted in the Scenes de la Vie Pa- 
 risienne, but in 1845 it was replaced among 
 the Scenes de la Vie Prive'e, fifth edition. 
 
 Sur la Situation du Parti Royaliste. Le 
 Renovateur, 26 May. 
 
 La Femme Abandonne. First published in 
 the Revue de Paris, September, 1832. In 1833 
 it was republished among the Scenes de la 
 Vie de Province, first edition, and in 1842 was 
 changed to the Scenes de la Vie Privee. 
 
 Lettre a Charles Nodier. Revue de Paris, 
 October. 
 
 Louis Lambert. Appeared originally among 
 the Nouveaux Contes Philosophiques. Greatly 
 augmented, it reappeared in 1835 m Le Livre 
 Mystique. In 1846 it entered the fifth edition 
 of the Etudes Philosophiques. 
 
 Voyage a Java. Revue de Paris, November, 
 1832. Republished in 1855 in the same vol- 
 ume as Les Paysans. It does not, however, 
 form part of the Comedie Humaine. 
 
 La Grenadiere. Revue de Paris, October, 
 1832. Republished in the Scenes de la Vie 
 de Province, it was in 1842 collected among 
 the Scenes de la Vie Privde, fifth edition.
 
 Bibliography. 185 
 
 Les Marana. Under the title of Histoire de 
 Madame Diard this story was first published 
 in the Revue de Paris, October, 1832. It 
 reappeared among the Scenes de la Vie Pari- 
 sienne, first edition ; but in 1846 it was defi- 
 nitely inserted among the Eludes Philoso- 
 phiques. 
 
 1833- 
 
 Histoire des Treize. Three divisions. The 
 first, Ferragus, appeared with preface in the 
 Revue de Paris, March, 1833. The second, 
 La Duchesse de Langeais, was commenced, but 
 not finished, in the ficho de la France, under 
 the title of Ne Touchez pas a la Hache, and 
 published in its entirety in the first edition of the 
 Scenes de la Vie Parisienne. The third, La 
 Fille aux Yeux d'Or, first announced under the 
 title of La Fille aux Yeux Rouges, originally 
 appeared in the first edition of Scenes de la 
 Vie Parisienne. 
 
 Le Prosne du Joyeulx Curd de Meudon. 
 First appeared in La Bagatelle, 13 June. It sub- 
 sequently reappeared among Les Contes Drola- 
 tiques, Deuxieme Dizain. One volume. Gos- 
 selin, July, 1833. 
 
 Theorie de la Demarche. Europe Littdraire, 
 August and September, 1833. In 1855 it was 
 republished in one volume in-i8. Eugene 
 Didier. 
 
 Persdvdrance d' Amour. First appeared in La
 
 1 86 Balzac. 
 
 Europe Litte'raire, 8 September. In 1837 ^ re ~ 
 appeared among the Contes Drolatiques, Troi- 
 sieme Dizain. One volume in-8. Werdet. 
 
 Le Medecin de Campagne. Originally pub- 
 lished by Maure et Delaunay. Two volumes 
 in-8 in September, 1833. In 1846 this work 
 appeared in the first edition of Scenes de la 
 Vie de Campagne. 
 
 Euge'nie Grandet. First published in the 
 first edition of the Scenes de la Vie de Pro- 
 vince. 
 
 L'lllustre Gaudissart. First published in 
 the first edition of the Scenes de la Vie de 
 Province. 
 
 1834. 
 
 Seraphita. The publication of this work 
 was begun in the Revue de Paris, but ap- 
 peared for the first time complete in Le Livre 
 Mystique. Two volumes. Werdet. In 1846 
 it entered the fifth edition of the Eludes Phi- 
 losophiques. 
 
 La Recherche de PAbsolu. This work orig- 
 inally appeared among the Scenes de la Vie 
 Privee. It was reprinted by Charpentier under 
 the title of Balthazar Clae's. In 1845 ^ was 
 inserted among the fitudes Philosophiques. 
 
 La Femme de Trente Ans. Six divisions. 
 The first, Premieres Fautes, appeared in the 
 Revue des Deux Mondes in September, 1831, 
 under the title of Le Rendezvous. The second,
 
 Bibliography. 187 
 
 Souff ranees Inconnues, appeared in the fourth 
 volume of the third edition of the Scenes de la 
 Vie Privee, 1834, as did also the third, A 
 Trente Ans. The fourth, Le Doigt de Dieu, 
 was published in two parts : the first, bearing 
 the same title, in the Revue de Paris, March, 
 1831 ; the second, entitled La Vallee du Torrent, 
 in the fourth volume of the third edition of the 
 Scenes de la Vie Privee, 1834. The fifth di- 
 vision, Les Deux Rencontres, appeared in the 
 Revue de Paris, January, 1831. The sixth and 
 last division was first published under the ti- 
 tle of L'Expiation in the fourth volume of the 
 second edition of the Scenes de la Vie Privee, 
 1832. Reunited finally under the title of La 
 Femme de Trente Ans, these different headings 
 disappeared on their entrance into the fifth 
 edition of the Scenes de la Vie Privee, 1842. 
 
 Le Pere Goriot Originally appeared in the 
 Revue de Paris, in December, 1834, and Janu- 
 ary, 1835. A second edition was published the 
 same year by Werdet and Spachmann. In 1843 
 it entered the third edition of the Scenes de la 
 Vie Parisienne. 
 
 Lettres aux ficrivains Frangais. Revue de 
 Paris, November, 1834. 
 
 Aventures d'une Idde Heureuse. Of this 
 work, which was to form part of the fitudes 
 Philosophiques, but a short fragment has ap- 
 peared. This fragment was published in the 
 Causeries du Monde in 1834.
 
 1 88 Balzac. 
 
 1835- 
 
 Un Drame au Bord de la Mer. First pub- 
 lished in the fourth edition of the Etudes Phi- 
 losophiques. 
 
 Melmoth Reconcilie. First published in Le 
 Livre des Conteurs. Lequin Fils, 1835. In 
 the same year it entered the fourth edition of 
 the Eludes Philosophiques. 
 
 Le Contrat de Mariage. This work, origi- 
 nally entitled La Fleur-des-Pois, first appeared 
 in the third edition of the Scenes de la Vie Pri- 
 \6e. 
 
 Le Lys dans la Vallee. The publication of 
 this romance was begun in the Revue de Pa- 
 ris, November, 1835, but was not continued. 
 It was published in its entirety the following 
 year by Werdet, and in 1844 it entered the 
 third edition of the Scenes de la Vie de Pro- 
 vince. 
 
 1836. 
 
 La Messe de 1'Athee. First published in the 
 Chronique de Paris, 3 January. In 1837 it 
 was inserted among the Etudes Philosophiques, 
 but in 1844 it was changed to the Scenes de la 
 Vie Parisienne. 
 
 L'Interdiction. First published in the Chro- 
 nique de Paris, January and February. It was 
 changed from the Eludes Philosophiques to the 
 Scenes de la Vie Parisienne, and in 1844 was 
 finally settled in the Scenes de la Vie Prive'e.
 
 Bibliography. 189 
 
 Etudes Critiques. Five articles published 
 in the Chronique de Paris at different dates 
 during the year 1836. 
 
 La France et 1'Etranger. Forty-one articles 
 published in the Chronique de Paris during the 
 year 1836. 
 
 Le Cabinet des Antiques. First appeared 
 in the Chronique de Paris, 6 March, 1836. In 
 1844 it entered the third edition of the Scenes 
 de la Vie de Province. 
 
 Facino Cane. Under the title of Le Pere 
 Canet, this story originally appeared in the 
 Chronique de Paris, 17 March, 1836. In 1844 
 it was changed from the Etudes Philosophiques, 
 in which it had been previously placed, and in- 
 serted among the Scenes de la Vie Parisienne. 
 
 Ecce Homo. Chronique de Paris, 9 June. 
 Subsequently placed among the Eludes Philos- 
 ophiques, under the title of Les Martyrs Ig- 
 nored, but omitted in the Edition Definitive. 
 
 L'Enfant Maudit. Second part. Chronique 
 de Paris, 9 October. In 1846 this work was 
 published complete in the fifth edition of the 
 Etudes Philosophiques. 
 
 La Vieille Fille. La Presse, 23 October, 
 1836. Under the collective title of Les Rival- 
 ite's, this tale, together with Le Cabinet des An- 
 tiques, reappeared in the third edition of the 
 Scenes de la Vie de Province. 
 
 Le Secret des Ruggieri. Chronique de Paris,
 
 190 Balzac. 
 
 December, 1836. Subsequently entered the 
 Etudes Philosophiques. 
 
 1837- 
 
 Illusions Perdues. Three divisions. The 
 first, Les Deux Poetes, was originally published 
 in the first edition of the Scenes de la Vie 
 de Province. The second, Un Grand Homme 
 de Province a Paris, was published two years 
 later (1839) by Souverain, in two volumes. 
 The third, Eve et David, was commenced under 
 the title of Les Souffrances d'un Inventeur, in 
 Le Parisien, July, 1843, and completed in 
 L'fitat, August, same year. United under 
 their collective title, these three divisions were 
 placed among the Scenes de la Vie de Pro- 
 vince. 
 
 Les Employe's. Originally entitled La Femme 
 Superieure. La Presse, 1-14 July, 1837. Re- 
 published in the third edition of the Scenes 
 de la Vie Parisienne. 
 
 Gambara. La Gazette Musicale, July, 1837. 
 Subsequently entered the Eludes Philoso- 
 phiques. 
 
 Cesar Birotteau. Offered by the Figaro, De- 
 cember 27, 1837, as premium to their subscrib- 
 ers. Two volumes in-8. Originally intended 
 for the Eludes Philosophiques, this work was 
 afterwards placed among the Scenes de la Vie 
 Parisienne.
 
 Bibliography. 191 
 
 Six Rois de France, Louis XIII. to Louis 
 XVIII. Dictionnaire de la Conversation. 
 
 L'Excommunie'. Supposed to have been 
 written by the Marquis de Belloy, but signed 
 Horace de Saint-Aubin. Two volumes in-8. 
 Souverain, 1837. 
 
 1838. 
 
 Splendeurs et Miseres des Courtisanes. Four 
 divisions. The first, Esther Heureuse, origi- 
 nally entitled La Torpille, and subsequently 
 Comment Aiment les Filles, was first published 
 in book form together with La Maison Nu- 
 cingen. Two volumes in-8. Werdet, 1837. 
 The second, A Combien 1'Amour Revient aux 
 Vieillards, was first published in Le Parisien, 
 May, July, 1843. The third, Ou Menent les 
 Mauvais Chemins, appeared in L'fipoque, July, 
 1846, and bore the title of Une Instruction 
 Criminelle. The fourth, La Derniere Incarna- 
 tion de Vautrin, appeared in La Presse, April, 
 May, 1847. United under their collective title, 
 these four divisions were placed in the Scenes 
 de la Vie Parisienne. The entire work is a se- 
 quel to the Illusions Perdues, and a continua- 
 tion of Le Pere Goriot. 
 
 La Maison Nucingen. Published together 
 with La Torpille. Werdet, 1838. In 1844 en- 
 tered the Scenes de la Vie Parisienne. 
 
 Traite" des Excitants Modernes. Published
 
 192 Balzac. 
 
 in 1838 (Charpentier) together with Brillat- 
 Savarins Physiologic du Gout. 
 
 Une Fille d'feve. Le Siecle, December, 1838, 
 and January, 1839. In 1842 entered the Scenes 
 de la Vie Prive'e. 
 
 1839. 
 
 Le Curd de Village. Published in La Presse 
 at intervals from September, 1838, to August, 
 1839. A second edition was published by 
 Souverain in 1841. Greatly altered, it entered 
 in 1846 the first edition of the Scenes de la 
 Vie de Campagne. 
 
 Beatrix. The first two divisions of this work 
 appeared in Le Siecle, April, May, 1839, under 
 the title of Beatrix, ou les Amours Forces. 
 The third part, Un Adultere Retrospectif, ap- 
 peared in Le Messager, December, 1844. This 
 work now forms part of the Scenes de la Vie 
 Prive'e. Its principal personages, to wit, Ca- 
 mille Maupin, la Marquise de Rochefide, 
 Claude Vignon, and Conti, are generally under- 
 stood to represent George Sand, the Comtesse 
 d'Agoult (mother of Wagner's Widow), Gustave 
 Planche', and Liszt. 
 
 Massimilla Doni. La Gazette Musicale, Au- 
 gust, 1839. In 1846 it entered the fifth edition 
 of the Etudes Philosophiques. 
 
 Les Secrets de la Princesse de Cadignan, 
 La Presse, August, 1839. It now forms part 
 of the Scenes de la Vie Parisienne.
 
 Bibliography. 193 
 
 Memoire sur le Proces Peytil. La Presse. 
 September, 1839. 
 
 Le Notaire, Monographic du Rentier, and 
 L'fipicier. Published together with a series of 
 sketches by different authors, under the collec- 
 tive title Les Frangais Peints par Eux-Memes. 
 Curiner. 
 
 1840. 
 
 Pierrette. Le Sieele, 14, 27 January. Sub- 
 sequently placed among the Scenes de la Vie 
 de Province. 
 
 Z. Marcas. Revue Parisienne, first number. 
 Republished in 1841 under the title of La 
 Mort d'un Ambitieux. Now contained in the 
 Scenes de la Vie Politique. 
 
 Revue Parisienne. Edited by Balzac. First 
 number, 25 July. 
 
 Vautrin. Drama in five acts. Represented 
 at the Porte-St.-Martin, 14 March. 
 
 Un Prince de la Boheme. Originally entitled 
 Les Fantaisies de Claudine, it appeared in the 
 second number of the Revue Parisienne. It 
 now forms part of the Scenes de la Vie Pari- 
 sienne. 
 
 Dom Gigadas. Supposed to have been writ- 
 ten by the Comte Ferdinand de Gramont, but 
 signed Horace de Saint-Aubin. Two volumes 
 in-8. Souverain. 
 
 Scenes de la Vie Prive'e et Publique des An- 
 imaux. Two volumes. Hetzel. Contents: 
 13
 
 194 Balzac. 
 
 I. Peines de Cceur d'une Chatte Anglaise. 
 
 II. Voyage d'un Lion d'Afrique a Paris. 
 
 III. Guide-Ane a 1'Usage des Animaux qui 
 veulent parvenir aux Honneurs. 
 
 IV. Les Amours de Deux Betes. 
 
 Pierre Grasson. Originally appeared in a Ba- 
 bel of collection of romances by different au- 
 thors. Since published in the Scenes de la Vie 
 Parisienne. 
 
 La Femme comme il Faut. Now entitled 
 Autre tude de Femme. First appeared in the 
 fifth edition of the Scenes de la Vie Privee. 
 Portions of this work are taken from other writ- 
 ings of Balzac -not comprised in the Comedie 
 Humaine. 
 
 1841. 
 
 Une Tene'breuse Affaire. Le Commerce, 14 
 January, 20 February, 1841. Now part of the 
 Scenes Politiques. 
 
 Un Me'nage de Gargon. Two divisions, of 
 which the first, La Raboulleuse, appeared in 
 La Presse, 24 February, 1841, entitled Les 
 Deux Freres ; the second, Un Menage de 
 Garc,on, also appeared in La Presse, October, 
 November, 1842. Both divisions were united 
 under the latter title in the Scenes de la Vie de 
 Province. 
 
 Notes Remises a MM. les Deputes. Pam- 
 phlet. Hetzel et Paulin. 
 
 Sur Catherine de Me'dicis. Three divisions :
 
 Bibliography. 195 
 
 I. Le Martyr Calviniste. Appeared in the 
 Siecle, March, April, 1841, entitled Les Le- 
 camus. 
 
 II. La Confidence des Ruggieri. Chronique 
 de Paris, December, 1836. 
 
 III. Les Deux Reves. La Mode, 8 May, 
 1830. 
 
 United under their collective title, these di- 
 visions now form part of the Etudes Philoso- 
 phiques. 
 
 Ursule Mirouet. Le Messager, August, Sep- 
 tember, 1841. Now forms part of the Scenes 
 de la Vie de Province. 
 
 La Fausse Maitresse. Le Siecle, Decem- 
 ber. Now forms part of the Scenes de la Vie 
 Privee. 
 
 Physiologic de 1'Employe. One volume in- 
 32. Aubert et Lavinge. Portions of this work 
 will be found in Les Employe's. 
 
 Memoires de Deux Jeunes Marines. La 
 Presse, November, 1841, January, 1842. Now 
 part of the Scenes de la Vie Prive'e. 
 
 1842. 
 
 Les Ressources de Quinola. Comedy in five 
 acts. Represented at the Ode'on, 19 March, 
 1842. 
 
 Albert Savarus. Le Siecle, May, June, 1842. 
 Now part of the Scenes de la Vie Prive'e. 
 
 L'Envers de 1'Histoire Contemporaine. Two
 
 196 Balzac. 
 
 divisions, of which the first, Madame de la 
 Chanterie, originally entitled Les Me'chancete's 
 d'un Saint, appeared in the Musee des Fa- 
 milies, September, 1842, September, 1843, and 
 October, 1844; the second division, L'Initie, 
 appeared in the Spectateur Republicain, in Au- 
 gust and September, 1848. United under their 
 collective heading, these divisions now form 
 part of the Scenes de la Vie Politique. 
 
 Un Debut dans la Vie. La Legislature, July, 
 September, 1842. This work was originally 
 entitled Le Danger des Mystifications. It now 
 forms part of the Scenes de la Vie Privee. 
 
 Le Chine et les Chinois. La Legislature, 
 October, 1842. 
 
 Avant - Propos de la Come'die Humaine.. 
 Dated July, 1842. 
 
 1843- 
 
 Tony Sans-Soin. Published in the Livre des 
 Petits Enfants. One volume. Hetzel. 
 
 Honorine. La Presse, 17-27 March. Now 
 contained in the Scenes de la Vie Privee. 
 
 Monographic de la Presse Parisienne. Two 
 volumes in-8. Mareseg. 
 
 Pame'la Giraud. Drama in five acts. Rep- 
 resented at the Gaite', 26 September, 1843. 
 
 La Muse du Ddpartement. Originally enti- 
 tled Dinah Piedefer, this romance first appeared 
 in Le Messager, March, April, 1843. Several
 
 Bibliography. 197 
 
 portions of it are extracts from other works of 
 Balzac not comprised in the Comedie Hu- 
 maine. It now forms part of the Scenes de la 
 Vie de Province. 
 
 1844. 
 
 Modeste Mignon. Journal des Debats, April, 
 July, 1844. Now contained in the Scenes de 
 la Vie Prive'e. 
 
 Gaudissart II. La Presse, 12 October, 1844. 
 Now contained in the Scenes de la Vie Pari- 
 sienne. 
 
 Les Paysans. The first part, Qui Terre a 
 Guerre a, appeared in La Presse, December, 
 1844. The second part, in which it is sup- 
 posed Mme. de Balzac collaborated, was pub- 
 lished after Balzac's death in the Revue de 
 Paris, June, 1855. Les Paysans is now con- 
 tained in the Scenes de la Vie de Campagne. 
 
 Les Come'diens sans le Savoir. Le Cour- 
 rier Francois, April, 1844. Now contained in 
 the Scenes de la Vie Parisienne. 
 
 Histoire et Physiologic des Boulevards de 
 Paris. Published in Le Diable a Paris. Two 
 volumes in-8. Hetzel. 
 
 Ce Qui Disparait de Paris. Same publica- 
 tion. 
 
 1845. 
 
 Une Rue de Paris et son Habitant. Le Si- 
 ecle, 28 July, 1845. 
 Un Homme d'Affaire.s. Le Siecle, 10 Sep-
 
 198 Balzac. 
 
 tember. Now contained in the Scenes de la 
 Vie Parisienne. 
 
 Petites Miseres de la Vie Conjugate. A 
 collection of fragments published at different 
 times. Chlendowski, 1845. Now contained in 
 the fitudes Analytiques. 
 
 Une Prediction. L'Almanach du Jour de 
 1'An. 
 
 1846. 
 
 Les Parents Pauvres. Comprising La Cou- 
 sine Bette and Le Cousin Pons. Appeared in 
 Le Constitutionnel, October, December, 1846, 
 and March, May, 1847. For these works Le 
 Constitutionnel paid 22,074 francs, of which 
 12,836 was paid for Cousine Bette, and 9,238 
 for Cousin Pons. Les Parents Pauvres is now 
 contained in the Scenes de la Vie Parisienne. 
 
 1847. 
 
 Le Deputd d'Arcis. The first division of 
 this work, and the only one which is by Balzac, 
 originally appeared in L'Union Monarchique, 
 April, May, 1847. The other divisions are by 
 Charles Rabou, and were published in the 
 Constitutionnel after Balzac's death. The De'- 
 pute' d'Arcis is now contained in the Scenes de 
 la Vie Politique. 
 
 1848. 
 
 Profession de Foi Politique. Le Constitu- 
 tionnel, 19 April.
 
 Bibliography. 199 
 
 La Maratre. Drama in five acts. Repre- 
 sented at the Theatre Historique, 25 May, 
 1848. 
 
 POSTHUMOUS. 
 
 La Filandiere. Revue de Paris, October, 
 1851. 
 
 Le Faiseur (Mercadet). Comedy. Repre- 
 sented at the Gymnase, 24 August, 1851. 
 
 Les Petits Bourgeois. Le Pays, July, Octo- 
 ber, 1854. Supposed to have been completed 
 by Charles Rabou. Now contained in the 
 Scenes de la Vie Parisienne.
 
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