[1]This refers to the examination of Lucien de Rubempré before thejuge d'instruction, and the description connected with it of the Palais de Justice.—TR.
[1]This refers to the examination of Lucien de Rubempré before thejuge d'instruction, and the description connected with it of the Palais de Justice.—TR.
August 7.
The heat is so dissolving I cannot write a line: I soak two shirts a day by merely staying in my arm-chair and reading Walter Scott. I must love you much to write even these few words; my hand and forehead are streaming.This delays me and makes me groan. I expect Potier to-day; I have decided to settle with him if possible before my departure; so that everything may be done, repairs and all, during my absence, and I can then remove there on my return.
Adieu, all my thoughts are with you, and with what can make you happy, were it even at the cost of my life and happiness. Before the end of the month I hope to see you! I shall work firmly, that there may be no delay in my journey. I hope you will be satisfied with the work I bring you. My dear critic will be too tenderly moved to be very severe.
Passy, October 18, 1846.[1]
Here I am, dear sovereign star, imperturbably before my desk, at the hour named, as I announced to you yesterday in the little letter hastily written in the office of "Le Messager;" and before resuming my work, my heart, that poor heart all yours, feels an imperious need to shed itself into your heart, and tell you the little details of a life become your life through that miracle of thought, constant, immutable, during so many years of exclusive affection, of which you alone, besides myself, can appreciate the immensity and the depth. From Frankfort to Forbach I lived in you only; I went over those four days like a cat which has finished her milk and licks her whiskers. All the precautions with which your kindness and that of your dear children surroundedme, the shawl, the hood, cured my cold perfectly; I feel admirably well. While they changed the luggage I wrote you a line, to prevent you from doing yourself harm, so anxious about me did I leave you.
I paid the duties on the little Dresden service. They told me at the custom-house that they had orders to send my cases to Paris, and I asked them to wait till the Wiesbaden cases came so that all might go together. Custom-houses do not respect heart-griefs, and I had to leave my reveries and memories (more and more tender beneath the charm of your smile, and your glance ever present with me) and attend to my cases. As my cold disturbed my stomach I relayed that organ with two little rolls and two large slices of Wiesbaden ham between Frankfort and Forbach. This, I hope, is a sufficient bulletin.
I was alone in the mail, and that was a blessing from heaven. At Metz, no one. At Verdun I encountered Germeau, coming from Paris with his wife, and I thanked him for his intervention at the custom-house. When you come to Forbach in your carriage you will be received with all the respect due to your social position, and your things will not be searched, I promise you that. I flew with the mail to Paris and arrived here at six o'clock in the morning; I went to bed at seven, and got up at eleven to breakfast. In the midst of my frugal repast the editor of the "Constitutionnel" fell from the clouds upon me, and found me half eating, half correcting the proofs of "La Cousine Bette," which he owned to me was having an astounding success. Véron's anxiety was consequently all the greater; but I calmed it by telling him of my journey and assuring him I had come back to finish everything. All this kept me till one o'clock.
I have written to Lirette, and shall send her your collective letter. But I shall soon go and see her and giveher all details. Here is the dawn, just breaking; I must leave you, you, who are always there before me, blessing my work, like the soft white dove that you are. You will hear with some pleasure, I am sure, that an immense reaction in my favour has set in. I have conquered at last! Once more has my protecting star watched over me; once more an angel of peace and hope has touched me with her vigilant, guardian wing. At this moment society and the newspapers are turning favourably towards me; more than that, there is something like an acclamation, a general coronation. Those who fought me most fight no longer; those who were most hostile to me, Soulié for instance, are coming back to me. You know that he (Soulié) made me honourable amends in his new drama at the Ambigu. It is a great year for me, dear countess, especially if "Les Paysans" and "Les Petits Bourgeois" are published rapidly one after the other, and if I have the happiness of doing them well, and if your taste and that of the public should agree in thinking them fine—Come, tell me to stop, and bring myself back to "Cousine Bette;" truly, I am talking too much, and with too much pleasure; but it is to me such delicious, irresistible joy to throw myself thus wholly into your fraternal soul.
Ah! I have read your pretty letter which arrived the morning after I had left Paris, as I see by the postmark; had it reached me in time I would have dressed differently and so escaped my cold. Poor dear, you see once more in this that I comprehend you at a distance. I was already at Mayence when your letter reached Passy telling me that as I was ill I must drop the "Constitutionnel" and come and rest near you. You have so spoilt me by kindness that I had already done this without knowing whether you would approve of it.
The time that I have lost on business errands and proposals is really frightful. Furne is making giganticannouncements ofLa Comédie Humaine. I hasten to tell you this as I don't know whether I shall be able to write to you again for some time. It is now the 20th. This letter can only go to Dresden, Hôtel de Saxe, and it must even wait for a line from you before I send it.
Allons!to the pen, and to work!
[1]Balzac's visit to Wiesbaden, Stuttgard, etc., was paid between the date of the last letter and that of the present one. It has been stated, on what proof I do not know, that during this visit Madame Hanska promised definitively to marry him as soon as permission could be obtained from her government. Before Balzac left Paris he purchased the little house in the Beaujon quarter, since known as the house in the rue Fortunée, now rue Balzac, and began to store it with his treasures of furniture, pictures, and bric-à-brac, many of which, he says in a letter to his sister, belonged to Madame Hanska.—TR.
[1]Balzac's visit to Wiesbaden, Stuttgard, etc., was paid between the date of the last letter and that of the present one. It has been stated, on what proof I do not know, that during this visit Madame Hanska promised definitively to marry him as soon as permission could be obtained from her government. Before Balzac left Paris he purchased the little house in the Beaujon quarter, since known as the house in the rue Fortunée, now rue Balzac, and began to store it with his treasures of furniture, pictures, and bric-à-brac, many of which, he says in a letter to his sister, belonged to Madame Hanska.—TR.
October 24.
Yesterday I worked like a negro; I wrote the amount of two chapters and corrected thirty columns of proof which I had on my desk. Just now, I can only count on money from the "Constitutionnel," or on that of a treaty by which I should bind myself for another work, but that other work is quite impossible for me to do. In my present labyrinth I must work and work without cessation to end, first of all, "Les Parents pauvres." It is not elegies that will give me money, and I need some; there is none here just now, at this moment, and I am at the mercy of certain payments to make, besides which I am expecting cases from everywhere, Geneva, Wiesbaden, etc. Nevertheless, do not think of my affairs or cloud the purity of your brow by useless anxieties. Publications will give something—but when?Voilà!
I hoped to find a letter from you at the post-office this morning telling me where to address you. I have half a mind to send this letter to Dresden by Bossange; but suppose that by chance you do not go to Dresden? Evidently I ought to wait for your next letter, which cannot be long in coming. I entreat you, do not harass yourself about all this: do not punish me for having believed in the luck of business in default of other happiness, more complete but impossible. I shall work, as I have always worked. It is only a habit to resume, not to begin, which would be more difficult. I feel young, full of energy and of talent before new difficulties. When Iam settled in my little house at Beaujon [rue Fortunée], very cosy, well furnished, very quiet, safe from the intrusion of unwelcome persons, I shall write successively "Les Paysans," "Les Petits Bourgeois," "La Dernière Incarnation de Vautrin," "Le Député d'Arcis," "Une Mère de famille;" and the plays will go on as well. It was especially to give myself up to this immense, but necessary production, that I wished to house myself as soon as possible at Beaujon, for it is quite impossible to stay longer at Passy.
Most Parisians think I did not go to Wiesbaden; that it was only acanard; that's Paris! Madame de Girardin told me that she had heard from a person who knew you well, that you were excessively flattered by my homage, and sent for me to join you wherever you went, out of pride and vanity, being much gratified in having a man of genius forpatito, though your social position was too high to allow him to aspire to anything else! And thereupon she laughed satirically, and told me I was wasting my time running after great ladies, who would only strand me! Isn't that Parisian? But, as you see, the contradictory statements of the Paris cancans make them little dangerous.
To-day, all the exterior work on the Beaujon house is finished, except the gallery which is to be added, and is, in fact, a new building; that will be covered in this week. So, in this respect, at any rate, I am tranquil.
It is four o'clock; I must brush up copy; I salute you as the birds are saluting the dawn.
The combined letter of your dear children has made me very happy. I see them so contented, so charmed, without the slightest fear of mischance in the future; but then, how you have brought-up your Anna! morally and physically how you have trained her! In truth, Georges owes you much, and I think he feels it, for a brain like his comprehends everything; there is in himthe union of great knowledge and great character. Pity me to be once more battling with business, the house, repairs, buildings, contractors; I go from one to the other, on foolish errands and vexations of all sorts. Yet I must write as if I were tranquil, and devote myself exclusively to that intolerable and hideous old maid who calls herself Cousine Bette, when I would much rather be with you and you only. It is really atrocious; and I never had such a time in my life. But my faith and belief in you give me a courage, a patience, a lucidity and a talent that amaze the boldest and most hardened toilers.
Alas! I must leave you; time has marched while I have been talking thus at random with you. I must carry this letter to the post.
Paris, November 20, 1846.
I was saying yesterday, dear countess, that I had scarcely more than time to write to you if I were going to see you on the 6th in Dresden. But how can I help writing? heart and soul are at Dresden, only body and courage are in Paris. To talk with you is an imperative need; I must write to you, tell you, relate to you everything—about my books, my furniture, my financial calculations, the architect, the house, the bothers, the nothings, the conversations, just as I talk to myself—are you notmyself? have you not long been my conscience? If you were not, should I have talked to you with such freedom and sincerity of my follies, my faults,—in short, of all that I have done either of good or evil?
Yesterday I went to the Vaudeville, where Arnal made me die of laughing in "Le Capitaine de Voleurs," and I put my letter into the post for yesterday's mail. It will not go till to-day. This morning I have still thirty-two pages to do on "Cousine Bette" and sixty-four on "Cousin Pons." Total, one hundred between now and the 29th. On Friday I shall go and book my place in the mail.
Ouf! I have just corrected eight hundred lines of "Cousine Bette" and the eight first chapters of "Cousin Pons." Since this morning I have not risen from my chair, and it is now a quarter past three. I put wood on the fire, and think of you, there, as if near me. What happiness in the idea of soon seeing you again! My whole soul quivers at the thought. I have such need to be with you three. And to think that I have still a hundred pages to write and correct!
Decidedly, I shall send to Tours for that secretary and bureau of Louis XVI.; the bedroom will then be complete. It is an affair of a thousand francs; but for that money what sort of modern furniture does one get? bourgeois platitudes, paltry things without taste or value.
November 22.
I have your letters, yours and those of the children. Thanks be to God, they tell me you are better, and that I can meet you on the 6th at Leipzig. I have just re-read your letter, for the paper is so thin that one side of the page prevented me from reading the other in a carriage. I went to the post, from there to your house, where nothing is getting on. You tell me not to work so hard, to take care of my health, to amuse myself, to go into society. But, dear countess, did I not write you that I had pledged myself to the payment of my last debts, counting on a rise to sell my shares in the Chemin de Fer du Nord? Well the Nord fell yesterday from 627 frs. to 575—two hundred francs below the price at which I bought them. So, you see, my pen must earn what the shares should have given me, and work to pay my creditors, to whom I will keep my word. Do you think I have time to amuse myself? It will be a miracle if I pull through at all. I have almost doubled in production; I have done forty-eight folios ofLa Comédie Humaineinstead of twenty-four; and you know thatcan't be done by scribbling as I am doing now to you. Ah!bon Dieu, it is fearful! I tremble as I write of it. I am not sure that even that will get me through. I must finish "Les Paysans" and perhaps something more. It is necessary, even indispensable. If I go to you I shall hardly see you, for I could not leave my table and papers. I cannot think about my health, or take any care or thought of myself; I am a copy-machine, and nothing else. My courage is really amazing; I recognize that, and you will be convinced of it when I tell you that since my return from Wiesbaden I have done all you will read of "La Cousine Bette,"—which, parenthetically, has a prodigious success—all those twenty chapters, dear countess, were writtencurrente calamo,done at night for the next day, without proofs. You have been, this time as ever, my inspiring genius.
November 23, 1846.
Yesterday I went to see Laurent-Jan and proposed to him to dialogue my play for the Variétés, for I have an avalanche of work up to November 30, and as I want to start December 1, I have no time to do the play. It would have paid him some thousands of francs, but he declined, on the pretext that it was too strong, too colossal for his "feeble talent." The real cause of this touching modesty is his invincible laziness. Nature gives talent, but it is for man to put it to work and bring it to sight by force of will, perseverance, and courage. Now, that fellow has talent, but he will never do anything with it except spend it in pure waste, wearing it out, like his boots, on the boulevards, or in the boxes of the lesser theatres with actresses who laugh at him.
Here I was interrupted by Dr. Nacquart; he scolded me well when he found me at my table writing, after all he had said to me about it. Neither he nor any of his friends the doctors can conceive how a man should subject his brain to such excesses. He said to me, and repeated hiswords with a threatening air, that harm would come of it. He entreated me to at least put some interval of time between the "debauches of the brain," as he called them. The efforts on "Cousine Bette," improvised in a week, especially alarmed him. He said, "This will necessarily end in something fatal."
The fact is, I feel myself in some degree affected; sometimes in conversation I search, and often very painfully, for nouns. My memory fornamesfails me. It is true that I ought to rest. If I had not had so much anxiety about my last financial affairs, the cares to be given to the arrangement of my little house would have been a happy and good diversion to my literary occupations. I have continued to be unlucky financially. When the doctor made me the above observations on my literary excesses, I said to him:—
"My friend, you forget my debts. I have obligations which I have bound myself to meet at certain fixed dates, at the end of each month, and I will not fail to do so; I must therefore earn money; that is to say, I must write until I make my chains fall off by force of courage and toil."
You will never divine the doctor's answer. It paints the man; but start with the principle that he is a friend, who loves me truly and has not only much affection, but also much esteem for me.
"Well, my friend," he said, "I can't write fine things like you, but I manage my affairs better. As a proof, I'll tell you that I bought at auction three days ago, a house of five stories in the rue de Trévise, for which I paid two hundred and thirty-five thousand francs; as there were twenty-five thousand to pay on costs, that makes two hundred and sixty thousand francs."
The whole spirit, the whole character of our bourgeoisie is in that; it turns its money over and over, as the aristocracy of old made theirs by privileges and personaladvantages. You must not find fault with the poor doctor, he is an excellent, worthy man; he is of his caste and his epoch, that is all.
Regarding what you say to me of your affairs, I shall not cease to repeat to you, "Make haste!"
You must have read the article in the "Constitutionnel" on Siberia; it is enough to make persons more confiding than you shudder. Therefore, do not lose any time, for the future does not seem to mecouleur de rose, I assure you. I see Italy and Germany very ready to rise; the present state of peace hangs by a thread, the life of Louis-Philippe, who is getting old, and God knows, when the struggle comes, what will happen to us. For a young and ambitious sovereign, not willing, like Louis Philippe, to die tranquilly in his bed, see how favourable this moment would be to recover the right bank of the Rhine! The populations are harassed by idiotic little sovereigns; England is grappling with Ireland, which wants to ruin her or separate from her; the whole of Italy is making ready to shake off the yoke of Austria; Germany wants its unity, or perhaps, only more liberty. In short, believe it firmly, we are on the eve of great political catastrophes. In France, our interest lies in gaining time,—our cavalry and our navy not being strong enough to make us triumph by sea or land. But the day when those two arms are strengthened, the fortifications mounted, our defences finished, and our public works completed, France will be very formidable.
It must be owned that by the way Louis-Philippe has administered and governed the country he has made it the first power in the world. Reflect on that! Nothing is factitious; our army is a fine army; we have money; all is strong, is real, at this moment. The port of Algiers, just finished, gives us a second Toulon opposite to Gibraltar; we advance towards controlling the Mediterranean. We now have Belgium and Spain with us.Certainly Louis-Philippe has made great way; you are right in that. If he were ambitious he could sing the Marseillaise and demolish three empires to his profit. If he puts a paw on Mehemet-Ali, as he has on the Bey of Tunis, the Mediterranean will be all for France in case of war. It is a conquest made morally, without firing a gun. We have, moreover, made giant strides in Algeria by the displacement of the centres of military action. This means conquest consolidated, and revolt rendered impossible.
I hope you will be content with me, and will think that I at last do justice to a sovereign whom you have always supported against me, not from sympathy, you say, but from conviction. Perhaps you are right in the main. Perhaps France has less need of glory than of liberty and security; and inasmuch as she has obtained these two great benefits, let us wish that she may know how to appreciate them and keep the government that has given them to her.
Here is the dawn; for two hours I have been talking to you with pleasure and no fatigue; and I say to you, joyfully,à bientôt.[1]
[1]This is the last letter to Madame Hanska given in Balzac's Correspondence in the Édition Définitive of his works. Soon after writing it he went to Dresden, and brought Madame Hanska, without M. and Mme. Mniszech, to Paris, in January, 1847,—TR.
[1]This is the last letter to Madame Hanska given in Balzac's Correspondence in the Édition Définitive of his works. Soon after writing it he went to Dresden, and brought Madame Hanska, without M. and Mme. Mniszech, to Paris, in January, 1847,—TR.
ToM. Le Comte Georges Mniszech, at Wierzchownia.
Paris, February 27, 1847.
My dear Anna and my dear Georges: do not have the slightest uneasiness about your dear mamma. In the first place, she is here in the strictest incognito; next she is thoroughly re-assured about her health; and lastly, charged with the immense duty of taking the place of her beloved children so essential to her happiness (and I maysay to my own, for all my human affections are centred on three cherished heads), I have put myself into forty thousand pieces, not to make her forget those who are the soul of her thought and life but, to render their absence as endurable as possible.
Our dear Atala [his family name for her] is in a charming and magnificent apartment (not too expensive); she has a garden, and goes much to the convent and a little to the theatre. I try to amuse her, and to be as much Anna to her as possible; but the name of her dear daughter is so daily and continually on her lips that last night, as she was amusing herself much at the Variétés and laughing with all her heart at the "Filleul de tout le monde," played by Bouffé and Hyacinthe, in the midst of her gaiety she asked herself, in a heart-rending tone that brought the tears to my eyes, how she could laugh and amuse herself without her "dear little one." ...
You know that in the month of April I take her back to Germany, and from there she will go to join you at Wierzchownia. As for me, who cannot now live away from you, I hope to follow her a little later.
[Note.—Balzac left Paris early in September, and reached his much longed for Wierzchownia by October 1, 1847.
The rest of this sad story will be found in the Memoir to this edition, pp. 318-349; and in the Correspondence, vol. xxiv. of the Édition Définitive, pp. 561-662.—TR.]
Pages104,112,113:regarding Madame de Berny.
Letters to Madame Carraud, written at the same time as the letters from Geneva. (Édition Définitive, pp. 191, 178.)
Geneva, January 30, 1834."Do not accuse me of ingratitude, my dearest flower of friendship! I have thought of you much. I have even talked of you with pride, congratulating myself in having a second conscience in you."Go to Frapesle? of course I will.Mon Dieu!you are angelically good to have thought of her whom all my friends (I mean my sister and Borget) call my good angel. [Madame Carraud had invited Madame de Berny, who was ill, to stay at her house with Balzac.] If I have not written to you, or to our Borget, it is because I am so little my own master here. Keep this secret at the bottom of your heart; but I think my future is fixed, and that, according to Borget's earnest wish, I shall never share my crown, if crown there be."After April, yes, I can go to Frapesle.... Some day,cara, you will know, when reading the 'Études de Mœurs' and the 'Études Philosophiques' in your chimney-corner at Frapesle, why I write to you now so disconnectedly. I am congested with ideas that crowd upon me, I hunger for repose; and besides, I am weary of my position as bird upon a branch.... It is written above that I shall never have complete happiness,freedom, liberty, all, except in prospect. But, dear, I can at least say this, with all the tenderest effusions of my heart, that in my long and painful way four noble beings have constantly held out their hands to me, encouraged, loved, and pitied me; that you are one of those hearts that have in mine the unalterable privilege of priority over all my affections...."If Frapesle were only on my way back to Paris! but neither Frapesle nor Angoulême now for me! I return, three days hence, to Paris, through that wearisome Bourgogne, to resume my yoke of misery, after refusing from hands of love money that would have freed me in a moment; but I will owe my gold to no one but myself, my liberty to none but me...."Yes, be sure of it, I will go to Frapesle, and I think I shall obtain the company of Madame de Berny.... That life is so much to mine! Oh! no one can form a true idea of that deep affection which sustains my efforts and soothes at every moment my wounds. You know something of it—you who know friendship so well, you so kind and affectionate...."
Geneva, January 30, 1834.
"Do not accuse me of ingratitude, my dearest flower of friendship! I have thought of you much. I have even talked of you with pride, congratulating myself in having a second conscience in you.
"Go to Frapesle? of course I will.Mon Dieu!you are angelically good to have thought of her whom all my friends (I mean my sister and Borget) call my good angel. [Madame Carraud had invited Madame de Berny, who was ill, to stay at her house with Balzac.] If I have not written to you, or to our Borget, it is because I am so little my own master here. Keep this secret at the bottom of your heart; but I think my future is fixed, and that, according to Borget's earnest wish, I shall never share my crown, if crown there be.
"After April, yes, I can go to Frapesle.... Some day,cara, you will know, when reading the 'Études de Mœurs' and the 'Études Philosophiques' in your chimney-corner at Frapesle, why I write to you now so disconnectedly. I am congested with ideas that crowd upon me, I hunger for repose; and besides, I am weary of my position as bird upon a branch.... It is written above that I shall never have complete happiness,freedom, liberty, all, except in prospect. But, dear, I can at least say this, with all the tenderest effusions of my heart, that in my long and painful way four noble beings have constantly held out their hands to me, encouraged, loved, and pitied me; that you are one of those hearts that have in mine the unalterable privilege of priority over all my affections....
"If Frapesle were only on my way back to Paris! but neither Frapesle nor Angoulême now for me! I return, three days hence, to Paris, through that wearisome Bourgogne, to resume my yoke of misery, after refusing from hands of love money that would have freed me in a moment; but I will owe my gold to no one but myself, my liberty to none but me....
"Yes, be sure of it, I will go to Frapesle, and I think I shall obtain the company of Madame de Berny.... That life is so much to mine! Oh! no one can form a true idea of that deep affection which sustains my efforts and soothes at every moment my wounds. You know something of it—you who know friendship so well, you so kind and affectionate...."
Now, is it possible that Balzac wrote those words with the same pen, the ink not dry upon it, that is supposed to have written the insinuation made on pages 112, 113? No, never!
A few months earlier, August, 1833, he had said to Madame Carraud: "You are right, dear noble soul, in loving Madame de Berny. In each of you are striking resemblances of thought; the same love of the right, the same enlightened liberality, the same love of progress, same desires for the good of the masses, same elevation of soul and thought, same delicacy in your natures. And for that I love you much."
Page476:relating to the letters Madame Hanska, then Madame de Balzac, gave to MM. Lévy in1876for their Édition Définitive of the Works.
In various foot-notes to "Lettres à l'Étrangère," and also in "Un Roman d'Amour," an effort is made to represent Madame de Balzac as having suppressed parts of these letters for somepurpose not legitimate. "These letters," it is said, "copied by the hand of Madame de Balzac, were given to M. Michel Lévy to be placed, in 1876, in Balzac's general 'Correspondance.' But she who was then no more than the widow of a man of genius did not, it must be owned, deliver the authentic and integral text of those letters."
Ten of the letters that Madame de Balzac gave to M. Michel Lévy appear also in "Lettres à l'Étrangère." I have carefully compared these, and I find certain differences, but nothing that does not come within the legitimate province of an editor. These differences are mainly as follows: 1. Unpleasant comments on persons then living are omitted; also certain painful details about his family and hers which ought never to have seen the light. 2. Some affectionate expressions to herself are omitted, and some, apparently from other letters, are added. 3. Additions, also apparently from other letters, and one at least from Balzac's other writings, are made.Possiblythe passage about Louis XIV. (page 476) is one of these; it may have been added by Madame de Balzac as being more just to his real opinion. 4. Passages have been transposed; probably through some confusion of the sheets in copying or in printing. But there is nothing omitted, changed, or added that gives the least colour to the idea conveyed of suppression or insincerity.
The letters can be compared by every one. Their dates, and the pages on which they appeared in the Édition Définitive are as follows:—
(1) August 11, 1835, p. 217. (2) October, 1836, p. 239. (3) January 20, 1838, p. 273. (4) March 26, 1838, p. 284. (5) April 8, 1838, p. 290. (6) April 17, 1838, p. 290. (7) April 22, 1838, p. 291. (8) May 20, 1838, p. 294. (9) June 15, 1838, p. 303. (10) July, 1838, p. 309.
Page544.The Peytel affair.
In 1831, a young man named Sébastien-Bénoist Peytel came to Paris to try his fortunes in literature; he lived among the journalists and writers who are described in "Un Grand homme de province à Paris." After a time he became part-proprietorof the paper called "Le Voleur," to which Balzac himself contributed from time to time. Balzac describes him as hot-headed, gifted with great mental and physical strength, ambitious, proud, and passionate, carried away at times by the force of his own words, but good essentially. He had an eye that always looked a man in the face; and he was not tricky or deceitful.
During this time he seems to have been the friend of all the young writers and artists, especially of Gavarni. He was a lover of art, antiquities, and bric-à-brac, and having inherited some property from his father, he spent money on forming a collection.
After a while, however, his attempts at literature and journalism not satisfying him, he became a notary, first at Lyon, then at Belley, near Bourg. But before leaving Paris he married a young girl named Félicie Alcazar, described as a Creole, with a mother and four sisters but no father, and with relations who mingled in good society. M. de Lamartine was so far intimate with Peytel that he acted as father or guardian to Félicie Alcazar on the occasion of the marriage, signed the contract, and took the bride to the mayor's office and to the church.
The marriage was not happy from the start. The wife disliked and even hated the husband, and showed it. He, on the contrary, appears to have been attached to her, and he led an irreproachable life.
One night, at eleven o'clock, as the husband and wife and their man-servant were returning from Bourg to Belley along the highroad, the wife and servant were murdered by means of a pistol-shot and a hammer belonging to the carriage. There were no witnesses to the deed, but the husband immediately gave himself up, or, as Balzac puts it, "accepted the responsibility of the homicide."
The explanation Peytel gave, and which his friends afterwards adopted, was that he suddenly on this drive discovered criminal relations between his wife and the servant, Louis Rey, and in a moment of ungovernable fury he had killed the man with the hammer. The latter had endeavoured to escape, but he pursued him; the man then turned to shoot him, but the shot killed the wife instead.
The authorities, on the other hand, charged Peytel with murdering his wife to obtain her money, and killing the manas witness of the crime; they also brought charges against him of past dishonesty. Prejudice was strong against him in Belley because he was a stranger. "No matter how the affair took place," said one who knew the town; "Peytel is a dead man."
Up to this time, the matter taking place in the provinces, Peytel's friends seem to have thought but little of it, supposing that he would certainly, under the circumstances, be acquitted. He himself felt so sure of this that he wrote to Gavarni to come and take him to Switzerland. On the contrary, he was condemned, and the condemnation roused his friends in Paris to the highest pitch. Balzac and Gavarni took up the case and studied it; Lamartine wrote the following letter to Peytel in prison:—
Paris, November 12, 1838.Your deplorable situation fills all minds here; no one doubts that unforeseen revelations, to which time and circumstances always lead, will completely justify the details that you yourself have given, and cause pity and universal interest to take the place of the prejudices you speak of. Meantime, monsieur, I am glad to be able to assure you that those prejudices have no access to the mind of any one here, and that if you need to add other proof than your unhappiness and despair, you will find it here in the unanimous assertion of the purity of your antecedents and the irreproachability of your life.Receive, with the expression of my sorrowful sympathy, the assurance of my distinguished sentiments.De Lamartine.
Paris, November 12, 1838.
Your deplorable situation fills all minds here; no one doubts that unforeseen revelations, to which time and circumstances always lead, will completely justify the details that you yourself have given, and cause pity and universal interest to take the place of the prejudices you speak of. Meantime, monsieur, I am glad to be able to assure you that those prejudices have no access to the mind of any one here, and that if you need to add other proof than your unhappiness and despair, you will find it here in the unanimous assertion of the purity of your antecedents and the irreproachability of your life.
Receive, with the expression of my sorrowful sympathy, the assurance of my distinguished sentiments.
De Lamartine.
Balzac and Gavarni went to Belley, Bourg, and Maçon, employed counsel, and brought the matter before the Court of Cassation (Appeals). Balzac wrote, and published in the "Siècle," a long argument of the case (see Édition Définitive, vol. xxii., pp. 579-625), to which a brother-in-law of the murdered woman replied, rather weakly. Balzac rejoined in the "Presse," prefacing his second statement with the following words to the editor:—
October 2, 1839."Monsieur, I am obliged to make use of the newspapers, who have published my letter on the Peytel affair, to thank collectively all those persons who have addressed congratulationsto me; and to assure those who have sent me startling testimony in favour of Peytel that their declarations will be received if the Court of Cassation grants a new trial."
October 2, 1839.
"Monsieur, I am obliged to make use of the newspapers, who have published my letter on the Peytel affair, to thank collectively all those persons who have addressed congratulationsto me; and to assure those who have sent me startling testimony in favour of Peytel that their declarations will be received if the Court of Cassation grants a new trial."
The following very curious letter relating to this subject, from M. Moreau Christophe, inspector-general of prisons, to Gavarni, is worth preserving.
Paris, September 29, 1839.My dear Monsieur Gavarni: you ask my opinion of the Peytel affair. What shall I say to you? When there is a woman, that is, love, in a crime, it is a tangle, the thread of which escapes the most clear-sighted. They think they hold the thread because they have got hold of the skein. The material of a fact does not constitute the truth of it. Why do you talk of judiciary trials [débats judiciaires]? A judiciary trial is to my eyes a legal lie. The accused lies to the lawyer, the lawyer lies to the judge, the newspapers lie to the public. How do you expect truth to come to light through that criss-cross of lies? She is just as much hidden from us at the Palais as if she were down at the bottom of her well. It is only behind the bolts, after condemnation, that truth can be found. And even then one must be very expert to find her. That was where I discovered the truth about the Laroncière affair, and several other love tangles, about which you think you know through the newspapers, whereas you know nothing at all.That was how you yourself discovered the truth in the depths of Peytel's dungeon. Balzac has brought startling lights out of that dungeon. But,—shall I say it?—in spite of the immense dialectic and legal talent he has just displayed in the "Siècle" in defence of your unhappy friend, I fear that under his pen truth is impregnated with an atmosphere of romance. Lawyers sometimes fade the cause they plead. Besides, it is too late. Moreover, instead of saving the man who did the act, a subsequent revelation will only the more surely lose him, when he adds to the blood of the victim after the act a stain, however just, upon her memory. That is Peytel's case. Truth cannot save him now. A lie will kill him.Moreau Christophe.
Paris, September 29, 1839.
My dear Monsieur Gavarni: you ask my opinion of the Peytel affair. What shall I say to you? When there is a woman, that is, love, in a crime, it is a tangle, the thread of which escapes the most clear-sighted. They think they hold the thread because they have got hold of the skein. The material of a fact does not constitute the truth of it. Why do you talk of judiciary trials [débats judiciaires]? A judiciary trial is to my eyes a legal lie. The accused lies to the lawyer, the lawyer lies to the judge, the newspapers lie to the public. How do you expect truth to come to light through that criss-cross of lies? She is just as much hidden from us at the Palais as if she were down at the bottom of her well. It is only behind the bolts, after condemnation, that truth can be found. And even then one must be very expert to find her. That was where I discovered the truth about the Laroncière affair, and several other love tangles, about which you think you know through the newspapers, whereas you know nothing at all.
That was how you yourself discovered the truth in the depths of Peytel's dungeon. Balzac has brought startling lights out of that dungeon. But,—shall I say it?—in spite of the immense dialectic and legal talent he has just displayed in the "Siècle" in defence of your unhappy friend, I fear that under his pen truth is impregnated with an atmosphere of romance. Lawyers sometimes fade the cause they plead. Besides, it is too late. Moreover, instead of saving the man who did the act, a subsequent revelation will only the more surely lose him, when he adds to the blood of the victim after the act a stain, however just, upon her memory. That is Peytel's case. Truth cannot save him now. A lie will kill him.
Moreau Christophe.
French legal arguments never commend themselves to the Anglo-Saxon mind; there seems to be a radical divergence of comprehension as to how truth can be got at, and Balzac's argument is certainly not convincing. But with the events of the past year before our minds we cannot be sure that prejudice and injustice on the other side may not have justified it.
The Court of Cassation rejected the appeal, and Peytel was executed as stated in the text. A history of this case is given in "Le Notaire Assassin," by Paul d'Orcières. Paris. 1884.
Page693.Concerning the letters of1846.
In "Un Roman d'Amour," which (as stated in the Preface to this volume) is the authority given on page 1 of "Lettres à l'Étrangère," to vouch for the authenticity of those letters, the following statement is made (page 94):—
"He [Balzac] lost in November, 1846, a daughter, born at six months. The birth of this child gave occasion for one of those great hidden dramas of which the celebrated novelist was the hero; and the rapid progress of his heart disease was due in part to this terrible adventure."
Now, a man of Balzac's emotional excitability—plainly shown in his walking distraught about Paris on reading one page of a letter without waiting to read the next (see letter to Madame Hanska of January 5, 1846)—could not have passed through such a crisis without some sign of it appearing in his letters.
I have therefore studied with great care those for the year 1846 given in his Correspondence. The letters addressed to Madame Hanska are all here, in this volume, for the reader to judge.
Balzac returned, about October 15, from Wiesbaden, where Madame Hanska, it is said, pledged herself definitively to marry him as soon as matters could be arranged with the Russian government.
From October to December there are five letters to M. and Mme. Mniszech, all very lively and gay. Here are a few quotations from them:—
October:"To-morrow our great and dear Atala [his family name for Madame Hanska] will receive a letter from me. But I charge you none the less to assure her that there is not a fibre in my heart that is not for her, and that I am, as I have been for thirteen years, the sole moujik of Paulowska, who will be hers for time and for eternity.""Anna's dear mother is, as you know, the only affection I have in all my life. She has been my only consolation in my griefs, my toils, my misfortunes; she has sufficed to appease all, to counterbalance all."November:"I thank you with all my heart for the punctuality with which you give me news of our great and good Atala Notify me, I entreat you, of the day when I must stop sending letters to Dresden. I imagine that the doctor will not forbid your dear, beloved mother to read. In which case I shall write to her every day. As soon as she wrote me she should stay in Dresden till the end of November I sent all the newspapers and 'La Cousine Bette' there to amuse the dear invalid.""Père Bilboquet [his name for himself], believe it, is buying nothing more; he is only thinking of paying and worrrking [trrravailller] in the market-place of Literature; yes, I have given myself the task of earning 40,000 francs in six months. Oh! how I wish! could see my troupe in their fine carriage ... This is stolen from the quantity ofcopyI have to do."Duc De Bilboquet,"Peer of France and other regions."
October:"To-morrow our great and dear Atala [his family name for Madame Hanska] will receive a letter from me. But I charge you none the less to assure her that there is not a fibre in my heart that is not for her, and that I am, as I have been for thirteen years, the sole moujik of Paulowska, who will be hers for time and for eternity."
"Anna's dear mother is, as you know, the only affection I have in all my life. She has been my only consolation in my griefs, my toils, my misfortunes; she has sufficed to appease all, to counterbalance all."
November:"I thank you with all my heart for the punctuality with which you give me news of our great and good Atala Notify me, I entreat you, of the day when I must stop sending letters to Dresden. I imagine that the doctor will not forbid your dear, beloved mother to read. In which case I shall write to her every day. As soon as she wrote me she should stay in Dresden till the end of November I sent all the newspapers and 'La Cousine Bette' there to amuse the dear invalid."
"Père Bilboquet [his name for himself], believe it, is buying nothing more; he is only thinking of paying and worrrking [trrravailller] in the market-place of Literature; yes, I have given myself the task of earning 40,000 francs in six months. Oh! how I wish! could see my troupe in their fine carriage ... This is stolen from the quantity ofcopyI have to do.
"Duc De Bilboquet,
"Peer of France and other regions."
The letters to Madame Hanska of October 18, 19, 20 are unusually cheerful and hopeful about his future; and those of November 20, 21, 22, 23 are full of his work, and mention his intention to join her December 6 at Leipzig. In point of fact, he did join her in the course of that month, and she returned with him to Paris some time in January, 1847. She remained in Paris till the following April, when she returned to Wierzchownia, where Balzac followed her in September.
Now, if the reader has read the letters to Madame Hanska during this year (1846) attentively he will see, not only that there is no symptom of any such crisis with its attendant circumstances in Balzac's life, but that there was actually no time for it.
To this record I must add that in 1889 M. le Vicomte de Spoelberch de Lovenjoul proposed to sell me the papers of Balzac in his possession; and in giving me a general list and description of them he wrote:—
"A cloud of letters exist, but they tell nothing; they are not the letters of women who had a part, either great or small, in his time or in his thoughts."
Warped minds, that is, degenerate minds judging all things by a standard of evil, may persuade themselves that this outspoken, impulsive man is the deceitful, double-faced being that they represent him. But will any sober, reflecting, common-sense, true judge of human nature, in presence of these letters, agree with that opinion? No.
It is surely an important duty to rescue a great name, and a great nature, from undeserved obloquy, and I hope the readers of this volume will second my effort by studying the truth of this matter and maintaining it.
Katharine Prescott Wormeley.