Memoir of Balzac
Quoting Balzac, himself, pg. 132 -- "'I try to be the man of my subject, and do my work with courage and perseverance, that is all.'"
quoting Lamartine's description of Balzac, pg. 124:
"'His head was apt to lean to one side, and then, when the talk excited him, it was lifted quickly with an heroic sort of pride. But the dominant expression of his face, greater even than that of intellect, was the manifestation of goodness and kindheartedness. He won your mind when he spoke, but he won your heart when he was silent. No feeling of envy or hatred could have been expressed by that face; it was impossible that it should seem otherwise than kind. But the kindness, conscious of its meaning and conscious of others; it inspired gratitude and frankness, and defied all those who knew him not to love him. A childlike merriment was in his aspect; here was a soul at play; he had dropped his pen to be happy among friends, and it was impossible not to be joyous where he was.'"
"'The subject is nothing. It is the execution that does the thing.'" -- quoting Balzac, himself, pg. 105
"A garret has its poesy." -- quoting Balzac, himself, pg. 70
From his sister's narrative, pg. 70:
"But the insoluble question remains: Does not misfortune develop talent? Would Balzac, rich and happy, have become the great inquisitor of humanity; would he have surprised its secrets, laid bare its feelings, and judged its misery from so vast a height? That clearness of vision granted to superior minds, which enables them to seize all aspects of an idea, is it ever acquired unless at the cost of privation and the experience of suffering?"
Quoting Balzac, himself, pg. 66:
"'Often between eleven o'clock and midnight, when I met some workman and his wife returning home from the Amgibu-Comique I amused myself by following them. The worthy pair usually talked first of the play they had just seen; then, from one thing to another, they came to their own affairs; the mother would, perhaps, be dragging her child along by the hand, paying no attention to its complaints or inquiries; husband and wife reckoned up their gains; told what they expected to make on the morrow, and spent that sum in fancy in a dozen different ways. Then they dropped into household details, groaned over the excessive cost of potatoes, the increased price of fuel, and talked of the strong remonstrance they intended to make to the baker. Their discussions often grew heated, and each side betrayed his and her character in picturesque language. As I listened to these persons I imbibed their life; I felt their ragged clothing on my back; my feet walked in their broken shoes; their desires, their wants passed into my soul-- or my soul passed into theirs. It was the dream of a waking man. I got angry, as they did, against some foreman who ill used them, against annoying customers who obliged them to call many times before they could get their money. To quit my own life, to become some other individual through the excitation of a moral faculty, and to play this game at will, was the relaxation of my studious hours.'"
From his sister's narrative, pg. 45:
"Wherever he went he studied what he saw-- towns, villages, country places, and their inhabitants-- collecting words or speeches which revealed a character or painted a situation. He called . . . the scrapbook . . . his 'meat safe'."
"'The lives of great men must ever be in all ages the consolation for mediocrity.'" -- quoting Balzac directly, pg. 37
From his sister's narrative, pg. 23:
"Occassionally Honore accompanied us to a ball; but having unfortunately slipped and fallen, in spite of the lessons he had taken from the Opera dancing master, he renounced the practice of dancing, so much did the smiles of the women who saw him fall rankle [him]."
From his sister's narrative, pg. 14:
On a trip to his grandfather's house, the adolescent Balzac "struck up an intimacy" with his grandfather's big watchdog, Mouche. One evening, there was a magic show that Honore's grandmother had arranged. "Not seeing his friend Mouche among the audience, [Honore] jumped up, calling out in a tone of authority: 'Stop! stop!' . . . Then he left the room and presently returned, dragging the dog, to whom he said: 'Sit you there, Mouche, and look at the show; it won't cost you anything, for grandpapa pays."
quoting Lamartine's description of Balzac, pg. 124:
"'His head was apt to lean to one side, and then, when the talk excited him, it was lifted quickly with an heroic sort of pride. But the dominant expression of his face, greater even than that of intellect, was the manifestation of goodness and kindheartedness. He won your mind when he spoke, but he won your heart when he was silent. No feeling of envy or hatred could have been expressed by that face; it was impossible that it should seem otherwise than kind. But the kindness, conscious of its meaning and conscious of others; it inspired gratitude and frankness, and defied all those who knew him not to love him. A childlike merriment was in his aspect; here was a soul at play; he had dropped his pen to be happy among friends, and it was impossible not to be joyous where he was.'"
"'The subject is nothing. It is the execution that does the thing.'" -- quoting Balzac, himself, pg. 105
"A garret has its poesy." -- quoting Balzac, himself, pg. 70
From his sister's narrative, pg. 70:
"But the insoluble question remains: Does not misfortune develop talent? Would Balzac, rich and happy, have become the great inquisitor of humanity; would he have surprised its secrets, laid bare its feelings, and judged its misery from so vast a height? That clearness of vision granted to superior minds, which enables them to seize all aspects of an idea, is it ever acquired unless at the cost of privation and the experience of suffering?"
Quoting Balzac, himself, pg. 66:
"'Often between eleven o'clock and midnight, when I met some workman and his wife returning home from the Amgibu-Comique I amused myself by following them. The worthy pair usually talked first of the play they had just seen; then, from one thing to another, they came to their own affairs; the mother would, perhaps, be dragging her child along by the hand, paying no attention to its complaints or inquiries; husband and wife reckoned up their gains; told what they expected to make on the morrow, and spent that sum in fancy in a dozen different ways. Then they dropped into household details, groaned over the excessive cost of potatoes, the increased price of fuel, and talked of the strong remonstrance they intended to make to the baker. Their discussions often grew heated, and each side betrayed his and her character in picturesque language. As I listened to these persons I imbibed their life; I felt their ragged clothing on my back; my feet walked in their broken shoes; their desires, their wants passed into my soul-- or my soul passed into theirs. It was the dream of a waking man. I got angry, as they did, against some foreman who ill used them, against annoying customers who obliged them to call many times before they could get their money. To quit my own life, to become some other individual through the excitation of a moral faculty, and to play this game at will, was the relaxation of my studious hours.'"
From his sister's narrative, pg. 45:
"Wherever he went he studied what he saw-- towns, villages, country places, and their inhabitants-- collecting words or speeches which revealed a character or painted a situation. He called . . . the scrapbook . . . his 'meat safe'."
"'The lives of great men must ever be in all ages the consolation for mediocrity.'" -- quoting Balzac directly, pg. 37
From his sister's narrative, pg. 23:
"Occassionally Honore accompanied us to a ball; but having unfortunately slipped and fallen, in spite of the lessons he had taken from the Opera dancing master, he renounced the practice of dancing, so much did the smiles of the women who saw him fall rankle [him]."
From his sister's narrative, pg. 14:
On a trip to his grandfather's house, the adolescent Balzac "struck up an intimacy" with his grandfather's big watchdog, Mouche. One evening, there was a magic show that Honore's grandmother had arranged. "Not seeing his friend Mouche among the audience, [Honore] jumped up, calling out in a tone of authority: 'Stop! stop!' . . . Then he left the room and presently returned, dragging the dog, to whom he said: 'Sit you there, Mouche, and look at the show; it won't cost you anything, for grandpapa pays."
posted by Boosh The Tug at 8/31/2008 05:57:00 PM
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