Honoré de Balzac: His Life and Writings | Page 3

life is full of interest. He was not a recluse or a bookworm; his
work was to study men, and he lived among men, he fought strenuously,
he enjoyed lustily, he suffered keenly, and he died prematurely, worn
out by the force of his own emotions, and by the prodigies of labour to
which he was impelled by the restless promptings of his active brain,
and by his ever-pressing need for money. Some of his letters to
Madame Hanska have been published during the last few years; and
where can we read a more pathetic love story than the record of his
seventeen years' waiting for her, and of the tragic ending to his
long-deferred happiness? Or where in modern times can more exciting
and often comical tales of adventure be found than the accounts of his
wild and always unsuccessful attempts to become a millionaire? His
friends comprised most of the celebrated French writers of the day; and
though not a lover of society, he was acquainted with many varieties of
people, while his own personality was powerful, vivid, and eccentric.
Thus he appears at first sight to be a fascinating subject for biography;
but if we examine a little more closely, we shall realise the web of
difficulties in which the writer of a complete and exhaustive Life of
Balzac would involve himself, and shall understand why the task has
never been attempted. The great author's money affairs alone are so
complicated that it is doubtful whether he ever mastered them himself,
and it is certainly impossible for any one else to understand them; while
he managed to shroud his private life, especially his relations to women,
in almost complete mystery. For some years after his death the monkish
habit in which he attired himself was considered symbolic of his mental
attitude; and even now, though the veil is partially lifted, and we realise
the great part women played in his life, there remain many points
which are not yet cleared up.
Consequently any one who attempts even in the most unambitious way
to give a complete account of the great writer's life, is confronted with
many blank spaces. It is true that the absolutely mysterious
disappearances of which his contemporaries speak curiously are now
partially accounted for, as we know that they were usually connected
with Madame Hanska, and that Balzac's sense of honour would not
allow him to breathe her name, except to his most intimate friends, and

under the pledge of the strictest secrecy. His letters to her have allowed
a flood of light to pour upon his hitherto veiled personality; but they are
almost our only reliable source of information. Therefore, when they
cease, because Balzac is with his ladylove, and we are suddenly
excluded from his confidence, we can only guess what is happening.
In this way, we possess but the scantiest information about the journeys
which occupied a great part of his time during the last few years of his
life. We know that he travelled, regardless of expense and exhaustion,
as quickly as possible, and by the very shortest route, to meet Madame
Hanska; but this once accomplished, we can gather little more, and we
long for a diary or a confidential correspondent. In the first rapture of
his meeting at Neufchatel, he did indeed open his heart to his sister,
Madame Surville; but his habitual discretion, and his care for the
reputation of the woman he loved, soon imposed silence upon him, and
he ceased to comment on the great drama of his life.
The great versatility of his mind, and the power he possessed of
throwing himself with the utmost keenness into many absolutely
dissimilar and incongruous enterprises at the same time, add further to
the difficulty of understanding him. An extraordinary number of
subjects had their place in his capacious brain, and the ease with which
he dismissed one and took up another with equal zest the moment after,
causes his doings to seem unnatural to us of ordinary mind. Leon
Gozlan gives a curious instance of this on the occasion of the first
reading of the "Ressources de Quinola."
Balzac had recited his play in the green-room of the Odeon to the
assembled actors and actresses, and before a most critical audience had
gone through the terrible strain of trying to improvise the fifth act,
which was not yet written. He and Gozlan went straight from the hot
atmosphere of the theatre to refresh themselves in the cool air of the
Luxembourg Gardens. Here we should expect one of two things to
happen. Either Balzac would be depressed with the ill-success of his
fifth act, at which, according to Gozlan, he had acquitted himself so
badly that Madame Dorval, the principal actress, refused to take a role
in