Part One
Contemporary and other Nineteenth-Century Views
Introduction
The critical response to Balzac throughout most of the nineteenth century was almost exclusively French. The author of La ComĆ©die humaine did receive plaudits, of a rather specialized nature, from both Marx and Engels (their views will be discussed later, with reference to the Marxist interpretations of Balzac by LukĆ¢cs and Macherey). Henry James, however, stands out as virtually the only major literary figure writing in English to devote himself to Balzacās work before the 1890s.1 Oscar Wilde actually claimed, in conversation with Edmond de Goncourt, that the only Englishman to have read Balzac was the poet Swinburne. It was in 1889, significantly, that George Moore published his eulogistic essay devoted to some of Balzacās lesser known compositions; he professed to find āmore wisdom and more divine imagination in Balzac than in any other writerā.2 In sharp contrast, though with equal enthusiasm, the fin de siĆØcle aestheticists or Yellow Book generation, led by such figures as Wilde, Aubrey Beardsley (of whom his fellow artist William Rothenstein, also a devotee of Balzacās work, wrote that he knew his Balzac from cover to cover), and the critic Arthur Symons (who, through his proneness to excessive toil, reminded W.B. Yeats of a character out of Balzac),3 found in such texts as La Fille aux yeux dāor, SĆ©raphĆ®ta, and La Peau de chagrin prĆ©figurations of their own attraction to an ambiguous, not to say perverse, eroticism, and of their fascination, in the wake of the symbolist movement, with specifically those forms of narrative fiction that could be termed ānon-realistā.
Amongst earlier English writers, however, even Thackeray, whose heroine Becky Sharp in Vanity Fair (1847ā8) has so often provoked comparisons with Balzacās ValĆ©rie Mar neffe, the talented seductress and kept woman in La Cousine Bette (published the year before Vanity Fair), advocated the reading of the novels of Balzacās disciple, Charles de Bernard, in preference to those of Balzac himself. Matthew Arnold, influenced perhaps by his friend Sainte-Beuve, failed signally to appreciate Balzacās greatness in his brief remarks on the novelist contained in the tribute to George Sand he wrote for the Pall Mall Gazette in 1884. George Eliot went so far as to describe Le PĆØre Goriot as āa hateful bookā. Virginia Woolfs father, Leslie Stephen, distinguished himself by contributing in 1871 a lengthy article on āBalzacās novelsā to the influential Fortnightly Review. He revealed a familiarity with a wide range of Balzacās fictions but found much in La ComĆ©die humaine to offend his artistic sensibilities. There were those, such as the Brownings, Wilkie Collins and Swinburne, who enthused about Balzacās genius, but in none of these cases did their enthusiasm lead to the honour of a critical study devoted exclusively to him. It was left to the anonymous author of an article published in the Westminster Review in 1853 to maintain that, contrary to the received idea, Balzac possessed āa far more elevated notion of virtue than those who attacked himā.
In nineteenth-century France, Balzacās status as a writer, his moral and political standpoints, and the precise source of his unique novelistic universe, were still more controversial subjects. The extracts that follow show the widely differing emphases adopted by some of his more prominent readers.
No attempt has been made to group these extracts thematically. Instead, as far as has been practicable, they are given in chronological order (chronology is occasionally violated when extracts are included from more than one piece by the critic). This has the advantage of underlining the fact that the critical responses to Balzac in the nineteenth century do not constitute a marked progression from one distinct form of assessment to another, nor a movement towards a better informed or more complete understanding of him, but to a continual re-formulation of a dualistic perspective that was sometimes used to emphasize Balzacās strength and sometimes, potentially at least, to reveal his disabling weakness. The reader of nineteenth-century discussions of Balzacās works may indeed be struck by a certain degree of repetition that is to be encountered from one essay to the next, notwithstanding the variation in emphasis that has already been mentioned. Such individuality as they have is invariably located in their re-evaluation of a small number of agreed features or of the relationship between these features, rather than in any specific insights that might cause the critic to break free of familiar reference points. It could reasonably be objected, of course, that intimate familiarity with such a massive output as Balzacās could not reasonably be expected of the writer or critic with many other subjects to discuss or works of his own to create.
Common to all the critics represented, however, is the recognition that Balzac was a phenomenon who posed a problem when considered according to existing aesthetic and moral criteria. Together, they exhibit the uncertainty that surrounded what later generations would call his ideological stance and which allowed some of them to enrol Balzac in the service of their own social or political beliefs, regardless of whether these were in line or not with his own explicit pronouncements.
It is not insignificant that imaginative writers, and prominent among them the leading poets of the age, made up so many of Balzacās staunchest admirers. Compared with that of a novelist such as EugĆØne Sue, the size of Balzacās readership scarcely warranted his being regarded as a popular writer. (He was perhaps less of an immediate threat to the moral fabric of society than Sainte-Beuve, in his abhorrence of the industrialization of literature, was so ready to maintain.) What emerges from a consideration of the most striking amongst the views of him is that Balzac was thought to be more than a mere writer of novels, at least as far as the activity of novel-writing was understood at that time. Instead, what exercised such an attraction for other literary figures was the unmistakable impression they gained of a singularly powerful creative imagination. Arthur Symons was by no means being unduly heterodox when, writing in 1899, he claimed: āThe first man who has completely understood Balzac is [the sculptor] Rodin.ā
Notes
Further reading
BELLOS, DAVID Balzac Criticism in France 1850ā1900. The Making of a Reputation (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1976).
DECKER, CLARENCE R. āBalzacās literary reputation in Victorian societyā, PMLA, 47 (1932), pp. 1150ā7.
HUNT, H.J. āThe Human Comedy: first English reactionsā, in The French Mind. Studies in Honour of Gustave Rudler, edited by WILL MOORE, RHODA SUTHERLAND, and ENID STARKIE (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1952), pp. 273ā90.
MONOD, SYLVERE āLa fortune de Balzac en Angleterreā, Revue de littĆ©rature comparĆ©e, 24 (1950), pp. 181ā210.
MOORE, GEORGE āBalzacā, in Impressions and Opinions (London: T. Werner Laurie, 1914), pp. 1ā43.
ROBB, GRAHAM Baudelaire lecteur de Balzac (Paris: Corti, 1988).
SYMONS, ARTHUR āBalzacā, in The Symbolist Movement in Literature, 2nd expanded edition, with an introduction by RICHARD ELLMANN (New York: Dutton, 1958), pp. 99ā117.
āĪA note on Zolaās methodā, ibid., pp. 154ā64.
TAYLOR, A. CAREY Non-French Admirers and Imitators of Balzac. An Inaugural Lecture (London: Ruddock and Sons, 1950).
1
Sainte-Beuve ā an early detractor*
It was Balzacās lasting misfortune not to have found favour with the most eminent of all nineteenth-century French critics, Sainte-Beuve. In his private notebooks, the latter recorded the admission: āEvery critic has his favourite quarry he falls upon and tears to pieces in preference to others. In my case, that quarry was Balzac.ā The article on Balzac he wrote for the Revue des deux mondes in November 1834 was occasioned by the publication of La Recherche de lāabsolu, but, in effect, it was the first substantial attempt at a partial retrospective of Balzacās work by a critic of note. That it was scarcely calculated to please the novelist is apparent from the (possibly apocryphal) story recounted by Sainte-Beuve himself, according to which Balzacās response was to declare that he would exact his revenge in the form of a re-writing of VoluptĆ©, the novel Sainte-Beuve had published earlier that year.
In fact, the article did not seek totally to deny Balzacās literary achievement. Sainte-Beuve had actually taken Balzacās side against Victor Hugo when, in 1830, the latter attacked La Femme de trente ans. His essay was at least an attempt at a fair assessment. As A.G. Lehmann has observed āhe was [ā¦] anxious to do justice to the novelist, where he could do so without compromising his standardsā.1 EugĆ©nie Grandet, Sainte-Beuve conceded, was āalmost a masterpieceā and throughout his career as a critic, he was ready to recognize Balzacās ability to give incomparable relief in his descriptions to both people and objects. Yet his essentially classical aesthetic could not countenance the exaggerated and vulgar effects that were, for him, so integral a part of Balzacās way of writing. He was unable to resist being ironic at Balzacās expense, dismissing his success, for example, as due to an unashamed appeal to the dubious curiosity of a naive female readership in the provinces. The essay was reprinted on a number of occasions during Sainte-Beuveās lifetime and the critic took advantage of each reprinting to intensify the expression of the abhorrence aroused in him by many of the features of Balzacās writing: as late as 1869, he was still to be found sharpening his knife. His severely critical view of Balzac, fuelled by the latterās counter-attack in the Revue Parisienne in 1840, found incidental expression in many of his essays on other writers, as well as in the Causerie du lundi he wrote in response to Balzacās death and which is partially reproduced as my second extract. In his eyes, the writerās responsibility to safeguard the fundamental values of Art and Society was supreme. In spearheading the āindustrialization of literatureā, Balzac had failed to meet it.
Sainte-Beuveās critical method was based on a profound belief in the need to study the relationship of the work to the personality of its creator. He is, therefore, to be found, as he himself pointed out in one of his earliest āliterary portraitsā (on Boileau), moving constantly from āthe man to the authorā.
(1) From the outset, M. de Balzac has above all secured the backing of that half of the public whose support is indispensable, turning its members into his accomplices by artfully playing on those chords of which he has a secret knowledge. āWomanā, M. Janin [Jules Janin, b. 1804, the so-called āPrince of criticsā] has somewhere said, ābelongs to M. de Balzac. She belongs to him whether she is in her finery or has next to nothing on, she belongs to him in the tiniest details of her inmost thought; he both dresses and undresses her.ā Putting to good use in his writing as novelist and storyteller the fund of knowledge contained in his Physiologie du mariage, M. de Balzac has insinuated himself into the company of the fair sex on the footing of a confidant or comforter, a confessor with something of the doctor in him. He is highly knowledgeable about women and their sensitive or fleshly secrets. In his narratives he addresses bold, intimate questions to them, questions that constitute an intrusion. He is like a still youthful doctor with access to the bedchamber and the bedside. He has arrogated to himself the right to hint at those mysterious intimate details that delight in so ambiguous a fashion the most modest representatives of the female sex. [ā¦] In the Provinces, above all, where the lives led by some women are more painful, more repressed, and more undernourished than in Parisian society, where marital disharmony is more oppressive and less easy to escape, M. de Balzac has encountered some fond and lively responses; there the number of women aged between twenty eight and thirty five to whom he has revealed their secret, who profess to love Balzac, hold forth on the subject of his genius, and take up their pens in an attempt to embroider their own variations on the inexhaustible theme of those delightful stories, La Femme de trente ans, La Femme malheureuse, and La Femme abandonnĆ©e, is high.
[ā¦]
M. de Balzac has a profound and perceptive sense of private life, one which is carried to the lengths of microscopic detail and superstition. He knows how to stir your emotions and cause your heart to palpitate from the very first page, merely by describing a side street, a dining room, or the way a room is furnished. He possesses a fund of instant remarks on spinsters, old ladies, ugly and deformed daughters, sickly young women who waste away, mistresses who are still loyal despite having been discarded, bachelors, and misers. One asks oneself where, given the train of his irrepressible imagination, he was able to observe and amass all these things. Admittedly, M. de Balzac does not proceed decisively, there being in his numerous works (some of which seem to us admirable, or at least touching and delightful, or else shrewd and piquant comedies of observation) the most fearsome jumble. Take away from his stories La Femme de trente ans, La Femme abandonnĆ©e, Le RĆ©quisitionnaire, La GrenadiĆØre, and Les CĆ©libataires; take away from his novels Louis Lambert and EugĆ©nie Grandet, his masterpiece, and what a host of volumes, what a vast collection of stories and novels of every kind, droll, philosophical, economic, magnetic and theosophical, there remains! I do not presume to have read everything. There is doubtless something to be savoured in each of them, but, oh!, the sheer losses and prolixity! In the invention of his subject and in the details of his style, M. de Balzacās pen is fluent, uneven, and lacking in delicacy. Heās off, at a gentle foot pace to start with, followed by a magnificent gallop, when all of a sudden he collapses, only to pick himself up and fall down again. His beginnings are mostly magnificent but the endings of his stories either deteriorate or fall into extravagance. There is a moment, a point at which he is carried away in spite of himself. The self-control of the observer takes its leave of him, a trigger is released within his brain and the conclusions are transported two hundred miles or more.
[ā¦]
Charm and the purely accidental are prominent in even the best of M. de Balzacās works. He has his own manner but it is hesitant and uncertain, attempting frequently to rediscover itself.
[ā¦]
One has, moreover, simply to make the best of it, as far as M. de Balzac is...