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Balzac: The Greatest Novelist of Them All?
A Quest Club Paper ByChristopher D. Guerin(Delivered 1/4/08)Christopher D. Guerin1222 W. Rudisill Blvd.Fort Wayne, IN 46807(260) 456-3467cguerin@aol.com1
 
Balzac: The Greatest Novelist of Them All?
On a warm morning in June of 1828, a young man of 29 years of age, 5 feet 3 inches inheight, fat, poorly dressed, with greasy hair and sagging stockings, stood on the PlaceVendome in Paris. He had recently incurred fifty thousand francs of debt attempting to run afailed printing company, and had two mistresses (one a duchess), both old enough to be hismother. With dozens of potboilers of no literary merit whatsoever, all published under various pseudonyms, to his credit, he stood staring up at Napoleon’s column. After a few momentscontemplating his hero, he remarked to a man who was probably the only friend he had,“Some day soon, I, too, will conquer the world.” The young man was Honore de Balzac.Balzac may or may not be the greatest novelist of them all. I’ll have no definitive answer onthat point, though I will present evidence in support of that contention. However, he was oneof the most important writers in the history of literature and of the novel, as you will see.Balzac was also one of the most interesting characters of the 19
th
century and lived, in the 50years allotted to him, three or four life spans crammed into one. He was a lover of women(mostly rich and many of them with titles), a man of business (who never once had anunqualified success either in investments or management), and a public figure (who wasfollowed, harassed, and ridiculed in a way comparable to how Michael Jackson is today). As anovelist, he wrote 30 failed and virtually forgotten novels before even beginning the work for which he is famous, the uncompleted cycle of 100 fictional works that intended to depictcomprehensively all aspects of French society, rural and urban. The work we know as
The Human Comedy
.French biographer Andre Maurois titled his work on Balzac, “Prometheus, The Life of Balzac.” Prometheus, the mortal who fooled Zeus, then stole fire from the gods and gave it toman, is an archetype of the bringer of new things, and Balzac certainly deserves thatdescription as well.There are a number of “firsts” to his credit. Balzac was the original “starving artist in hisgarret,” whose parents, hardly penniless, gave him a pauper’s pension for two years and set2
 
him up in Paris to write, not so secretly hoping for failure, which would force him to take up areal career in the legal profession. While Balzac was hardly the first male to demonstrate particular sensitivity to women, to earn the title of “feminist,” he was the first to write asympathetic book on women and sexual relations in marriage, which would endear him to ageneration of French and European women. He was the first writer to realize that womenrepresented the largest potential audience for fiction, which is still true today, at leaststatistically. In the character of the criminal Vautrin, who is superhumanly strong, intelligent,and crafty, and who appears in several novels and a play, Balzac invented the super criminal,the pre-curser to Moriarty, Fu Manchu, and Hannibal Lecter. He was the originator of the“sequel,” and invented the modern book-of-the-month club. Finally, Balzac invented“realism,” perhaps the most enduring literary style in the history of the written word."In the name of the law, and the name of the King!" said an officer, but the wordswere almost lost in a murmur of astonishment. Silence fell on the room. Thelodgers made way for three of the men, who had each a hand on a cocked pistol ina side pocket. Two policemen, who followed the detectives, barred the entrance tothe sitting room, and two more appeared in the doorway that gave access to thestaircase. All chance of salvation by flight was cut off for the criminal known asTrompe-la-Mort, to whom all eyes instinctively turned. The chief of police walkedstraight up to him, and dealt him a sharp blow on the head, so that his wig fell off,revealing the stark horror of his skull. There was a terrible suggestion of strengthmingled with cunning in the short, brick-red crop of hair, the whole head was inharmony with his powerful frame, and at that moment the fires of hell seemed togleam from his eyes. In that flash the real Vautrin shone forth, revealed at once before them all; they understood his past, his present, and future, his pitilessdoctrines, his actions, the religion of his own good pleasure, the majesty withwhich his cynicism and contempt for mankind invested him. The blood flew to hisface, and his eyes glared like the eyes of a wild cat. He started back with savageenergy and a fierce growl that drew exclamations of alarm from the lodgers. Hisfierce, feral movement, and the general clamor he’d created, made the policemen3
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