No More Learning

“WHY
Hy dois your brand sae drap wi bluid,
Edward, Edward,
Why dois your brand sae drap wi bluid,
And why sae sad gang yee 0 ? ”
O I hae killed my hauke sae guid,
Mither, mither,
0 I hae killed my hauke sae guid,
And I had nae mair bot hee 0. ”
2.
« Your haukis bluid was nevir sae reid,
Edward, Edward,
Your haukis bluid was nevir sae reid,
My deir son I tell thee 0. ”
«O I hae killed my reid-roan steid,
Mither, mither,
0 I hae killed my reid-roan steid,
That erst was sae fair and frie 0. ”
3.
« Your steid was auld, and ye hae gat mair,
Edward, Edward,
Your steid was auld, and ye hae gat mair,
Sum other dule ye drie 0. 93
“O I hae killed my fadir deir,
Mither, mither,
0 I hae killed my fadir deir,
Alas, and wae is mee O! »
Frogs, toads, snakes, and the like were often served for fish, and of
course were supposed to act as a poison. One variant has a verse to elabor-
ate this:
“Where gat she those eels, Lord Randal, my son ?
Where gat she those eels, my handsome young man ? ”
<< 'Neath the bush o' brown bracken; mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down. ”
2 One of the finest of our ballads. It was sent from Scotland to Percy by
David Dalrymple.
3 You suffer some other sorrow.


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THE BALLAD
1337
4.
“And whatten penance wul ye drie, for that,
Edward, Edward,
And whatten penance wul ye drie, for that?
My deir son, now tell me 0. ”
"I'll set my feit in yonder boat,
Mither, mither,
I'll set my feit in yonder boat,
And I'll fare over the sea 0. ”
5. “And what wul ye doe wi’ your towers and your ha',
Edward, Edward,
And what wul ye doe wi' your towers and your ha',
That were sae fair to see 0 ? »
“I'll let them stand till they doun fa',
Mither, mither,
I'll let them stand till they doun fa',
For here nevir mair maun I bee 0. ”
6. “And what wul ye leive to your bairns and your wife,
Edward, Edward,
And what wul ye leive to your bairns and your wife,
When ye gang over the sea 0 ?
“The warldis room; let them beg thrae life,
Mither, mither,
The warldis room; let them beg thrae life,
For them never mair wul I see 0. ”
7.
“And what wul ye leive to your ain mither ear,
Edward, Edward,
And what will ye leive to your ain mither dear ?
My dear son, now tell me 0. ”
« The curse of hell frae me sall ye beir,
Mither, mither,
The curse of hell frae me sall ye beir,
Sic counsels ye gave to me 0. ”
THE TWA BROTHERS
I.
Ther they went to the school thegither
;
HERE were twa brethren in the north,
They went to the school thegither;
The one unto the other said,
«Will you try a warslel afore ? »
1 Wrestle.


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1338
THE BALLAD
2.
They warsled up, they warsled down,
Till Sir John fell to the ground,
And there was a knife in Sir Willie's pouch,
Gied him a deadlie wound.
3.
«Oh brither dear, take me on your back,
Carry me to yon burn clear,
And wash the blood from off my wound,
And it will bleed nae mair. ”
4.
He took him up upon his back,
Carried him to yon burn clear,
And washed the blood from off his wound,
But aye it bled the mair.
5.
“Oh brither dear, take me on your back,
Carry me to yon kirk-yard,
And dig a grave baith wide and deep,
And lay my body there. ”
6.
He's taen him up upon his back,
Carried him to yon kirk-yard,
And dug a grave baith deep and wide,
And laid his body there.
7.
But what will I say to my father dear,
Gin he chance to say, Willie, whar's John ? »
«Oh say that he's to England gone,
To buy him a cask of wine. ”
8.
“And what will I say to my mother dear,
Gin she chance to say, Willie, whar's John ? ”
«Oh say that he's to England gone,
To buy her a new silk gown. ”
9.
And what will I say to my sister dear,
Gin she chance to say, Willie, whar's John ? ”
«Oh say that he's to England gone,
To buy her a wedding ring. ”
IO.
“But what will I say to her you loe' dear,
Gin she cry, Why tarries my John ?
« On tell her I lie in Kirk-land fair,
And home again will never come. ”
1 Love.


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THE BALLAD
1339
BABYLON; OR THE BONNIE BANKS O'FORDIE
I.
TERE
HERE were three ladies lived in a bower,
Eh vow bonnie,
And they went out to pull a flower
On the bonnie banks o' Fordie.
2.
They hadna pu’ed a flower but ane,
When up started to them a banisht man.
3.
He's ta'en the first sister by her hand,
And he's turned her round and made her stand.
4.
“It's whether will ye be a rank robber's wife,
Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife ? ”
"It's I'll not be a rank robber's wife,
But I'll rather die by your wee pen-knife! )
5.
6.
He's killed this may, and he's laid her by,
For to bear the red rose company.
7.
He's taken the second ane by the hand,
And he's turned her round and made her stand.
8.
“It's whether will ye be a rank robber's wife,
Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife ? ”
9.
“I'll not be a rank robber's wife,
But I'll rather die by your wee pen-knife. ”
10.
He's killed this may, and he's laid her by,
For to bear the red rose company.
II.
He's taken the youngest ane by the hand,
And he's turned her round and made her stand.
12.
Says, “Will ye be a rank robber's wife,
Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife ? ”
13. “I'll not be a rank robber's wife,
Nor will I die by your wee pen-knife.
14.
« For I hae a brother in this wood,
And gin ye kill me, it's he'll kill thee. ”
15.
“What's thy brother's name? Come tell to me. ”
“My brother's name is Baby Lon. ”


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1340
THE BALLAD
16. “O sister, sister, what have I done!
O have I done this ill to thee!
17.
“O since I've done this evil deed,
Good sall never be seen o' me. ”
18.
He's taken out his wee pen-knife,
And he's twyned' himsel o' his own sweet life.
CHILDE MAURICE ?
I.
CH
HILDE MAURICE hunted i’ the silver wood,
He hunted it round about,
And noebodye that he found therein,
Nor none there was without.
2.
He says,
“Come hither, thou little foot-page,
That runneth lowlye by my knee,
For thou shalt goe to John Steward's wife
And pray her speake with me.
3.
I, and greete thou doe that ladye well,
Ever soe well fro me.
4. “And, as it falls, as many times
As knots beene knit on a kell,?
Or marchant men gone to leeve London
Either to buy ware or sell.
5. “And, as it falles, as many times
As any hart can thinke,
Or schoole-masters are in any schoole-house
Writing with pen and inke:
For if I might, as well as she may,
This night I would with her speake.
1 Parted, deprived.
? It is worth while to quote Gray's praise of this ballad:–«I have got the
old Scotch ballad on which Douglas) [the well-known tragedy by Home]
was founded.
It is divine.
. Aristotle's best rules are observed in a
manner which shows the author never had heard of Aristotle. » - Letter to
Mason, in (Works,' ed. Gosse, ii. 316.
3 That is, the page is to greet the lady as many times as there are knots
in nets for the hair (kell), or merchants going to dear (leeve, lief) London,
or thoughts of the heart, or schoolmasters in all schoolhouses. These multi-
plied and comparative greetings are common in folk-lore, particularly in Ger-
man popular lyric.


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THE BALLAD
1341
6.
“And heere I send her a mantle of greene,
As greene as any grasse,
And bid her come to the silver wood,
To hunt with Child Maurice.
7.
"And there I send her a ring of gold,
A ring of precious stone,
And bid her come to the silver wood,
Let' for no kind of man. ”
8. One while this little boy he yode,'
Another while he ran,
Until he came to John Steward's hall,
I-wis3 he never blan. 4
9. And of nurture the child had good,
He ran up hall and bower free,
And when he came to this ladye faire,
Sayes, «God you save and see ! 5
IO.
“I am come from Child Maurice,
A message unto thee;
And Child Maurice, he greetes you well,
And ever soe well from me.
II.
12.
“And as it falls, as oftentimes
As knots beene knit on a kell,
Or marchant men gone to leeve London
Either for to buy ware or sell.
« And as oftentimes he greetes you well
As any hart can thinke,
Or schoolemasters are in any schoole,
Wryting with pen and inke.
“And heere he sends a mantle of greene,
As greene as any grasse,
And he bids you come to the silver wood,
To hunt with Child Maurice.
«And heere he sends you a ring of gold,
A ring of the precious stone;
He prayes you to come to the silver wood,
Let for no kind of man. ”
6
13.
14.
· Let (desist) is an infinitive depending on bid.
2 Went, walked.
3 Certainly.
* Stopped.
5 Protect.
6 These, of course, are tokens of the Childe's identity.


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1342
THE BALLAD
15.
“Now peace, now peace, thou little foot-page,
For Christes sake, I pray thee!
For if my lord heare one of these words,
Thou must be hanged hye! ”
16. John Steward stood under the castle wall,
And he wrote the words everye one,
17.
And he called upon his hors-keeper,
“Make ready you my steede!
I, and soe he did to his chamberlaine,
“Make ready thou my weede! !
18.
And he cast a lease? upon his backe,
And he rode to the silver wood,
And there he sought all about,
About the silver wood.
19.
And there he found him Child Maurice
Sitting upon a blocke,
With a silver combe in his hand,
Kembing his yellow lockes.
20.
But then stood up him Child Maurice,
And sayd these words trulye:
“I doe not know your ladye,” he said,
“If that I doe her see. ”
21.
He sayes, “How now, how now, Child Maurices
Alacke, how may this be ?
For thou hast sent her love-tokens,
More now then two or three;
22.
«For thou hast sent her a mantle of greene,
As greene as any grasse,
And bade her come to the silver woode
To hunt with Child Maurice.
23.
“And thou hast sent her a ring of gold,
A ring of precyous stone,
And bade her come to the silver wood,
Let for no kind of man.
i Clothes.
* Leash.


## p. 1343 (#133) ###########################################

THE BALLAD
1343
24.
“And by my faith, now, Child Maurice,
The tonel of us shall dye!
“Now be my troth,” sayd Child Maurice,
<And that shall not be 1. )
25.
But he pulled forth a bright browne ? sword,
And dryed it on the grasse,
And soe fast he smote at John Steward,
I-wisse he never did rest.
26. Then he 3 pulled forth his bright browne sword,
And dryed it on his sleeve,
And the first good stroke John Stewart stroke,
Child Maurice head he did cleeve.
27. And he pricked it on his sword's poynt,
Went singing there beside,
And he rode till he came to that ladye faire,
Whereas this ladye lyed. "
28. And sayes, «Dost thou know Child Maurice head,
If that thou dost it see?
And lap it soft, and kisse it oft,
For thou lovedst him better than me. )
29.
But when she looked on Child Maurice head,
She never spake words but three:-
“I never beare no childe but one,
And you have slaine him trulye. ”
30. Sayes,5 «Wicked be my merrymen all,
I gave meate, drinke, and clothe!
But could they not have holden me
When I was in all that wrath!
31.
«For I have slaine one of the curteousest knights
That ever bestrode a steed,
So 6 have I done one of the fairest ladyes
That ever ware woman's weede ! »
i That one -the one. That is the old neuter form of the definite article.
Cf. the tother for that other.
? Brown, used in this way, seems to mean burnished, or glistening, and is
found in Anglo-Saxon.
3 He, John Steward.
• Lived.
5 John Steward.
Compare the similar swiftness of tragic development in Babylon. '
6


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1344
THE BALLAD
THE WIFE OF USHER'S WELL
THERE
HERE lived a wife at Usher's Well,
And a wealthy wife was she;
She had three stout and stalwart sons,
And sent them o'er the sea.
2.
They hadna been a week from her,
A week but barely ane,
When word came to the carlin' wife
That her three sons were gane.
3.
They hadna been a week from her,
A week but barely three,
When word came to the carlin wife
That her sons she'd never see.
4.
“I wish the wind may never cease,
Nor fashes ? in the flood,
Till my three sons come hame to me,
In earthly flesh and blood. ”
5.
It fell about the Martinmass,
When nights are lang and mirk,
The carlin wife's three sons came hame,
And their hats were o' the birk.
6.
It neither grew in sykes nor ditch,
Nor yet in ony sheugh,
But at the gates o' Paradise,
That birk grew fair eneugh.
7. “Blow up the fire, my maidens!
Bring water from the well!
For a' my house shall feast this night,
Since my three sons are well. ”
1 Old woman.
2 Lockhart's clever emendation for the fishes of the Ms. Fashes = dis-
turbances, storms.
3 November uth. Another version gives the time as the hallow days of
Yule. »
* Birch.
5 Marsh.
6 Furrow, ditch.


## p. 1345 (#135) ###########################################

THE BALLAD
1345
8. And she has made to them a bed,
She's made it large and wide,
And she's ta'en her mantle her about,
Sat down at the bed-side.
9. Up then crew the red, red cock,'
And up and crew the gray;
The eldest to the youngest said,
« 'Tis time we were away. ”
10.
The cock he hadna craw'd but once,
And clapp'd his wing at a',
When the youngest to the eldest said,
«Brother, we must awa'.
II.
«The cock doth craw, the day doth daw,
The channerin? worm doth chide;
Gin we be mist out o' our place,
A sair pain we maun bide.
12.
« Fare ye weel, my mother dear!
Fareweel to barn and byre!
And fare ye weel, the bonny lass
That kindles my mother's fire! ”
SWEET WILLIAM'S GHOST
1.
WA
HAN bells war rung, an mass was sung,
A wat a' man to bed were gone,
Clark Sanders came to Margret's window,
With mony a sad sigh and groan.
2.
“Are ye sleeping, Margret,” he says,
“Or are ye waking, presentlie e ?
Give me my faith and trouth again,
A wat, true-love, I gied to thee. ”
1 In folk-lore, the break of day is announced to demons and ghosts by
three cocks, – usually a white, a red, and a black; but the colors, and even
the numbers, vary. At the third crow, the ghosts must vanish. This applies
to guilty and innocent alike; of course, the sons are «spirits of health. ”
2 Fretting.
3«I wot,» «I know," = truly, in sooth. The same in 5², 64, 74, 82.
111485


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1346
THE BALLAD
3.
« Your faith and trouth ye's never get,
Nor our true love shall never twin,'
Till ye come with me in my bower,
And kiss me both cheek and chin. ”
4. “My mouth it is full cold, Margret,
It has the smell now of the ground;
And if I kiss thy comely mouth,
Thy life-days will not be long.
5.
Cocks are crowing a merry mid-larf,?
I wat the wild fule boded day;
Give me my faith and trouth again,
And let me fare me on my way. ”
6. «Thy faith and trouth thou shall na get,
Nor our true love shall never twin,
Till ye tell me what comes of women
A wat that dy's in strong traveling. ”
7.
« Their beds are made in the heavens high,
Down at the foot of our good Lord's knee,
Well set about wi' gilly-flowers,
A wat sweet company for to see.
8.
«O cocks are crowing a merry mid-larf,
A wat the wild fule boded day;
The salms of Heaven will be sung,
And ere now I'll be missed away. ”
9. Up she has taen a bright long wand,
And she has straked her trouth thereon ;*
She has given it him out at the shot-window,
Wi mony a sad sigh and heavy groan.
1
10.
“I thank you, Margret, I thank you, Margret,
And I thank you heartilie;
Gin ever the dead come for the quick,
Be sure, M gret, I'll come again for thee. ”
Part, separate. She does not yet know he is dead.
? Probably the distorted name of a town; a - - in. «Cocks are crowing in
merry and the wild-fowl announce the dawn. ”
3 That die in childbirth.
Margaret thus gives him back his troth-plight by (stroking” it upon the
wand, much as savages and peasants believe they can rid themselves of a
disease by rubbing the affected part with a stick or pebble and finging the
latter into the road.


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THE BALLAD
1347
11.
It's hose and shoon an goundi alane
She clame the wall and followed him,
Until she came to a green forest,
On this she lost the sight of him.
12.
“Is there any room at your head, Sanders ?
Is there any room at your feet ?
Or any room at your twa sides?
Where fain, fain woud I sleep. ”
13.
«There is nae room at my head, Margret,
There is nae room at my feet;
There is room at my twa sides,
For ladys for to sleep.
14.
“Cold meal’ is my covering owre,
But an: my winding sheet:
My bed it is full low, I say,
Among hungry worms I sleep.
15.
«Cold meal is my covering owre,
But an my winding sheet:
The dew it falls nae sooner down
Than ay it is full weet. ”
*Gown.
2 Mold, earth.
3But and also.


## p. 1348 (#138) ###########################################

1348
HONORÉ DE BALZAC
(1799-1850)
BY WILLIAM P. TRENT
A
SONORÉ DE BALZAC, by common consent the greatest of French
novelists and to many of his admirers the greatest of all
writers of prose fiction, was born at Tours, May 16th, 1799.
Neither his family nor his place of birth counts for much in his artis-
tic development; but his sister Laure, afterwards Madame Surville, —
to whom we owe a charming sketch of her brother and many of his
most delightful letters, — made him her hero through life, and gave
him a sympathy that was better than any merely literary environ-
ment. He was a sensitive child, little comprehended by his parents
or teachers, which probably accounts for the fact that few writers
have so well described the feelings of children so situated (See Le
lys dans la vallée (The Lily in the l'alley) and Louis Lambert'l.
He was not a good student, but undermined his health by desultory
though enormous reading and by writing a precocious Treatise on the
Will, which an irate master burned and the future novelist after-
wards naïvely deplored. When brought home to recuperate, he turned
from books to nature, and the effects of the beautiful landscape of
Touraine upon his imagination are to be found throughout his writ-
ings, in passages of description worthy of a nature-worshiper like
Senancour himself. About this time a vague desire for fame seems
to have seized him. - a desire destined to grow into an almost mor-
bid passion; and it was a kindly Providence that soon after (1814)
led his family to quit the stagnant provinces for that nursery of
ambition, Paris. Here he studied under new masters, heard lectures
at the Sorbonne, read in the libraries, and finally, at the desire of
his practical father, took a three years' course in law.
He was now at the parting of the ways, and he chose the one
nearest his heart. After much discussion, it was settled that he
should not be obliged to return to the provinces with his family, or
to enter upon the regular practice of law, but that he might try his
luck as a writer on an allowance purposely fixed low enough to test
his constancy and endurance. Two years was the period of probation
allotted, during which time Balzac read still more widely and walked
the streets studying the characters ḥe met, all the while endeavoring
to grind out verses for a tragedy on Cromwell. This, when com-
pleted, was promptly and justly damned by his family, and he was


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P


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## p. 1348 (#141) ###########################################


HONORÉ DE BALZAC.
B


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|


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HONORÉ DE BALZAC
1 349
name.
temporarily forced to retire from Paris. He did not give up his
aspirations, however, and before long he was back in his attic, this
time supporting himself by his pen. Novels, not tragedies, were
what the public most wanted, so he labored indefatigably to supply
their needs and his own necessities; not relinquishing, however, the
hope that he might some day watch the performance of one of his
own plays. His perseverance was destined to be rewarded, for he
lived to write five dramas which fill a volume of his collected
works; but only one, the posthumous comedy Mercadet,' was even
fairly successful. Yet hat Balzac had dramatic genius his matured
novels abundantly prove.
The ten romances, however, that he wrote for cheap booksellers
between 1822 and 1829 displayed so little genius of any sort that he
was afterwards unwilling to cover their deficiencies with his great
They have been collected as youthful works ('Euvres de
jeunesse'), and are useful to a complete understanding of the evolu-
tion of their author's genius; but they are rarely read even by his
most devoted admirers. They served, however, to enable him to get
through his long and heart-rending period of apprenticeship, and they
taught him how to express himself; for this born novelist was not a
born writer and had to labor painfully to acquire a style which only
at rare moments quite fitted itself to the subject he had in hand.
Much more interesting than these early sensational romances were
the letters he wrote to his sister Laure, in which he grew eloquent
over his ambition and gave himself needed practice in describ-
ing the characters with whom he came in contact. But he had not
the means to wait quietly and ripen, so he embarked in a publish-
ing business which brought him into debt. Then, to make up his
losses, he became partner in a printing enterprise which failed in
1827, leaving him still more embarrassed financially, but endowed
with a fund of experience which he turned to rich account as a nov-
elist. Henceforth the sordid world of debt, bankruptcy, usury, and
speculation had no mystery for him, and he laid it bare in novel
after novel, utilizing also the knowledge he had gained of the law,
and even pressing into service the technicalities of the printing office
(See Illusions perdues' (Lost Illusions)]. But now at the age of
twenty-eight he had over 100,000 francs to pay, and had written
nothing better than some cheap stories; the task of wiping out his
debts by his writings seemed therefore a more hopeless one than
Scott's. Nothing daunted, however, he set to work, and the year
that followed his second failure in business saw the composition of
the first novel he was willing to acknowledge, Les Chouans. ' This
romance of Brittany in 1799 deserved the praise it received from
press and public, in spite of its badly jointed plot and overdrawn


## p. 1350 (#144) ###########################################

1350
HONORÉ DE BALZAC
characters. It still appeals to many readers, and is important to the
(Comédie humaine' as being the only novel of the Military Scenes. ”
The Physiology of Marriage' followed quickly (1829-30), and despite
a certain pruriency of imagination, displayed considerable powers of
analysis, powers destined shortly to distinguish a story which ranks
high among its author's works, La Maison du chat-qui-pelote
(1830). This delightful novelette, the queer title of which is nearly
equivalent to At the Sign of the Cat and the Racket,' showed in
its treatment of the heroine's unhappy passion the intuition and pen-
etration of the born psychologist, and in its admirable description of
bourgeois life the pictorial genius of the genuine realist. In other
words the youthful romancer was merged once for all in the matured
novelist. The years of waiting and observation had done their work,
and along the streets of Paris now walked the most profound analyst
of human character that had scrutinized society since the days when
William Shakespeare, fresh from Stratford, trod the streets and lanes
of Elizabethan London.
The year 1830 marks the beginning not merely of Balzac's success
as the greatest of modern realists, but also of his marvelous literary
activity. Novel after novel is begun before its predecessor is finished;
short stories of almost perfect workmanship are completed; sketches
are dashed off that will one day find their appropriate place in larger
compositions, as yet existing only in the brain of the master. Nor is
it merely a question of individual works: novels and stories are to
form different series, -'Scenes from Private Life, Philosophical
Novels and Tales,'— which are themselves destined to merge into
(Studies of Manners in the Nineteenth Century,' and finally into the
(Comédie humaine) itself. Yet it was more than a swarm of stories
that was buzzing in his head; it was a swarm of individuals often
more truly alive to him than the friends with whom he loved to con-
verse about them. And just because he knew these people of his
brain, just because he entered into the least details of their daily
lives, Balzac was destined to become much more than a mere philos-
opher or student of society; to wit, a creator of characters, endowed
with that "absolute dramatic vision” which distinguishes Homer and
Shakespeare and Chaucer. But because he was also something of a
philosopher and student of sociology, he conceived the stupendous
idea of linking these characters with one another and with their
several environments, in order that he might make himself not
merely the historian but also the creator of an entire society. In
other words, conservative though he was, Balzac had the audacity to
range himself by the side of Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire, and to espouse
the cause of evolution even in its infancy. The great ideas of the
mutability of species and of the influence of environment and heredity


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HONORÉ DE BALZAC
1351
were, he thought, as applicable to sociology as to zoology, and as
applicable to fiction as to either. So he meditated the Comédie
humaine) for several years before he announced it in 1842, and from
being almost the rival of Saint-Hilaire he became almost the antici-
pator of Darwin.
But this idea of evolution was itself due to the evolution of his
genius, to which many various elements contributed: his friendships
and enmities with contemporary authors, his intimacies with women
of refinement and fashion, his business struggles with creditors and
publishers, his frequent journeys to the provinces and foreign coun-
tries; and finally his grandiose schemes to surround himself with
luxury and the paraphernalia of power, not so much for his own sake
as for the sake of her whose least smile was a delight and an inspira-
tion. About each of these topics an interesting chapter might be
written, but here a few words must suffice.
After his position as an author was more or less assured, Balzac's
relations with the leaders of his craft — such as Victor Hugo, Théo-
phile Gautier, and George Sand — were on the whole cordial. He
had trouble with Sainte-Beuve, however, and often felt that his
brother-writers begrudged his success. His constant attacks on con-
temporary journalists, and his egotistic and erratic manners naturally
prejudiced the critics, so that even the marvelous romance entitled
(La Peau de chagrin' (The Magic Skin: 1831), — a work of superb
genius, — speedily followed as it was by Eugénie Grandet' and Le
Père Goriot,' did not win him cordial recognition. One or two of
his friendships, however, gave him a knowledge of higher social
circles than he was by birth entitled to, a fact which should be
remembered in face of the charge that he did not know high
life, although it is of course true that a writer like Balzac, possessing
the intuition of genius, need not frequent salons or live in hovels in
order to describe them with absolute verisimilitude.
With regard to Balzac's debts, the fact should be noted that he
might have paid them off more easily and speedily had he been
more prudent. He cut into the profits of his books by the costly
changes he was always making in his proof-sheets, — changes which
the artist felt to be necessary, but against which the publishers nat-
urally protested. In reality he wrote his books on his proof-sheets,
for he would cut and hack the original version and make new inser-
tions until he drove his printers wild. Indeed, composition never
became easy to him, although under a sudden inspiration he could
sometimes dash off page after page while other men slept. He had,
too, his affectations; he must even have a special and peculiar garb
in which to write. All these eccentricities and his outside distractions
and ambitions, as well as his noble and pathetic love affair, entered


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1352
HONORÉ DE BALZAC
into the warp and woof of his work with effects that can easily be
detected by the careful student, who should remember, however,
that the master's foibles and peculiarities never for one moment set
him outside the small circle of the men of supreme genius. He
belongs to them by virtue of his tremendous grasp of life in its
totality, his superhuman force of execution and the inevitableness of
his art at its best.
The decade from 1830 to 1840 is the most prolific period of Bal-
zac's genius in the creation of individual works; that from 1840 to
1850 is his great period of philosophical co-ordination and arrange-
ment. In the first he hewed out materials for his house; in the
second he put them together. This statement is of course relatively
true only, for we owe to the second decade three of his greatest
masterpieces: "Splendeurs et misères des courtisanes,' and La Cousine
Bette and Le Cousin Pons, collectively known as Les Parents
pauvres (Poor Relations). And what a period of masterful literary
activity the first decade presents! For the year 1830 alone the
Vicomte de Spoelberch de Lovenjoul gives seventy-one entries, many
of slight importance, but some familiar to every student of modern
literature, such as El Verdugo,' La Maison du chat-qui-pelote,'
(Gobseck,'(Adieu,' Une Passion dans le désert' (A Passion in the
Desert), Un Épisode sous la Terreur” (An Episode of the Terror).
For 1831 there are seventy-six entries, among them such masterpieces
as "Le Réquisitionnaire) (The Conscript), “Les Proscrits) (The Out-
laws), 'La Peau de chagrin,' and 'Jésus-Christ en Flandre. ? In 1832
the number of entries falls to thirty-six, but among them are "Le Colo-
nel Chabert, Le Curé de Tours' (The Priest of Tours), La Grande
Bretèche,' (Louis Lambert,' and 'Les Marana. After this year there
are fewer short stories. In 1833 we have Le Médecin de campagne
(The Country Doctor), and Eugénie Grandet,' with parts of the
(Histoire des treize) (Story of the Thirteen), and of the Contes
drolatiques (Droll Tales). The next year gives us "La Recherche
de l'absolu' (Search for the Absolute) and Le Père Goriot” (Old
Goriot) and during the next six there were no less than a dozen
masterpieces. Such a decade of accomplishment is little short of
miraculous, and the work was done under stress of anxieties that
would have crushed any normal man.
But anxieties and labors were lightened by a friendship which
was an inspiration long before it ripened into love, and were rendered
bearable both by Balzac's confidence in himself and by his ever
nearer view of the goal he had set himself. The task before him was
as stupendous as that which Comte had undertaken, and required not
merely the planning and writing of new works but the utilization of
all that he had previously written. Untiring labor had to be devoted
1


## p. 1353 (#147) ###########################################

HONORÉ DE BALZAC
1353
to this manipulation of old material, for practically the great output
of the five years 1829–1834 was to be co-ordinated internally, story
being brought into relation with story and character with character.
This meant the creation and management of an immense number of
personages, the careful investigation of the various localities which
served for environments, and the profound study of complicated
social and political problems. No wonder, then, that the second
decade of his maturity shows a falling off in abundance, though not
in intensity of creative power: and that the gradual breaking down
of his health, under the strain of his ceaseless efforts and of his
abnormal habits of life, made itself more and more felt in the years
that followed the great preface which in 1842 set forth the splendid
design of the Comédie humaine. "
This preface, one of the most important documents in literary
history, must be carefully studied by all who would comprehend
Balzac in his entirety. It cannot be too often repeated that Balzac's
scientific and historical aspirations are important only in so far as
they caused him to take a great step forward in the development of
his art. The nearer the artist comes to reproducing for us life in its
totality, the higher the rank we assign him among his fellows.
Tried by this canon, Balzac is supreme. His interweaving of charac-
ters and events through a series of volumes gives a verisimilitude to
his work unrivaled in prose fiction, and paralleled only in the work
of the world-poets. In other words, his use of co-ordination upon a
vast scale makes up for his lack of delicacy and sureness of touch,
as compared with what Shakespeare and Homer and Chaucer have
taught us to look for. Hence he is with them even if not of them.
This great claim can be made for the Balzac of the Comédie
humaine only; it could not be made for the Balzac of any one mas-
terpiece like "Le Père Goriot,' or even for the Balzac of all the
masterpieces taken in lump and without co-ordination. Balzac by
co-ordination has in spite of his limitations given us a world, just as
Shakespeare and Homer have done; and so Taine was profoundly
right when he put him in the same category with the greatest of all
writers. When, however, he added St. Simon to Shakespeare, and
proclaimed that with them Balzac was the greatest storehouse of doc-
uments that we have on human nature, he was guilty not merely of
confounding genres of art, but also of laying stress on the philosophic
rather than on the artistic side of fiction. Balzac does make himself
a great storehouse of documents on human nature, but he also does
something far more important, he sets before us a world of living
men and women.
To have brought this world into existence, to have given it order
in the midst of complexity, and that in spite of the fact that death


## p. 1354 (#148) ###########################################

1354
HONORÉ DE BALZAC
1
overtook him before he could complete his work, would have been
sufficient to occupy a decade of any other man's life; but he, though
harassed with illness and with hopes of love and ambition deferred,
was strong enough to do more. The year 1840 saw the appearance
of Pierrette,' and the establishment of the ill-fated Revue parisi-
enne. ' The following year saw Ursule Mirouet,' and until 1848 the
stream of great works is practically unbroken. The “Splendeurs et
misères) and the Parents pauvres) have been named already, but
to these must be added Un Ménage de garçon' (A Bachelor's House-
keeping), Modeste Mignon, and Les Paysans (The Peasants). The
three following years added nothing to his work and closed his life,
but they brought him his crowning happiness. On March 14th, 1850,
he was married to Mme. Hanska, at Berditchef; on August 18th, 1850,
he died at Paris.
Madame Evelina de Hanska came into Balzac's life about 1833, just
after he had shaken off the unfortunate influence of the Duchesse
de Castries, The young Polish countess was much impressed, we
are told, by reading the Scènes de la vie privée) (Scenes of Private
Life), and was somewhat perplexed and worried by Balzac's appar-
ent change of method in “La Peau de chagrin. She wrote to him
over the signature «L'Étrangère » (A Foreigner), and he answered
in a series of letters recently published in the Revue de Paris.
Not long after the opening of this correspondence the two met, and
a firm friendship was cemented between them. The lady was about
thirty, and married to a Russian gentleman of large fortune, to
whom she had given an only daughter. She was in the habit of
traveling about Europe to carry on this daughter's education, and
Balzac made it his pleasure and duty to see her whenever he could,
sometimes journeying as far as Vienna. In the interim he would
write her letters which possess great charm and importance to the
student of his life.