Works of Honore De Balzac

by Honoré de Balzac

  This ceaseless alternation of voices and silence seemed the rhythm of the sacred hymn which resounds and prolongs its sound from age to age.

  Wilfrid and Minna were enabled to understand some of the mysterious sayings of Him who had appeared on earth in the form which to each of them had rendered him comprehensible, — to one Seraphitus, to the other Seraphita, — for they saw that all was homogeneous in the sphere where he now was.

  Light gave birth to melody, melody gave birth to light; colors were light and melody; motion was a Number endowed with Utterance; all things were at once sonorous, diaphanous, and mobile; so that each interpenetrated the other, the whole vast area was unobstructed and the Angels could survey it from the depths of the Infinite.

  They perceived the puerility of human sciences, of which he had spoken to them.

  The scene was to them a prospect without horizon, a boundless space into which an all-consuming desire prompted them to plunge. But, fastened to their miserable bodies, they had the desire without the power to fulfil it.

  The Seraph, preparing for his flight, no longer looked towards them; he had nothing now in common with Earth.

  Upward he rose; the shadow of his luminous presence covered the two Seers like a merciful veil, enabling them to raise their eyes and see him, rising in his glory to Heaven in company with the glad Archangel.

  He rose as the sun from the bosom of the Eastern waves; but, more majestic than the orb and vowed to higher destinies, he could not be enchained like inferior creations in the spiral movement of the worlds; he followed the line of the Infinite, pointing without deviation to the One Centre, there to enter his eternal life, — to receive there, in his faculties and in his essence, the power to enjoy through Love, and the gift of comprehending through Wisdom.

  The scene which suddenly unveiled itself to the eyes of the two Seers crushed them with a sense of its vastness; they felt like atoms, whose minuteness was not to be compared even to the smallest particle which the infinite of divisibility enabled the mind of man to imagine, brought into the presence of the infinite of Numbers, which God alone can comprehend as He alone can comprehend Himself.

  Strength and Love! what heights, what depths in those two entities, whom the Seraph’s first prayer placed like two links, as it were, to unite the immensities of the lower worlds with the immensity of the higher universe!

  They comprehended the invisible ties by which the material worlds are bound to the spiritual worlds. Remembering the sublime efforts of human genius, they were able to perceive the principle of all melody in the songs of heaven which gave sensations of color, of perfume, of thought, which recalled the innumerable details of all creations, as the songs of earth revive the infinite memories of love.

  Brought by the exaltation of their faculties to a point that cannot be described in any language, they were able to cast their eyes for an instant into the Divine World. There all was Rejoicing.

  Myriads of angels were flocking together, without confusion; all alike yet all dissimilar, simple as the flower of the fields, majestic as the universe.

  Wilfrid and Minna saw neither their coming nor their going; they appeared suddenly in the Infinite and filled it with their presence, as the stars shine in the invisible ether.

  The scintillations of their united diadems illumined space like the fires of the sky at dawn upon the mountains. Waves of light flowed from their hair, and their movements created tremulous undulations in space like the billows of a phosphorescent sea.

  The two Seers beheld the Seraph dimly in the midst of the immortal legions. Suddenly, as though all the arrows of a quiver had darted together, the Spirits swept away with a breath the last vestiges of the human form; as the Seraph rose he became yet purer; soon he seemed to them but a faint outline of what he had been at the moment of his transfiguration, — lines of fire without shadow.

  Higher he rose, receiving from circle to circle some new gift, while the sign of his election was transmitted to each sphere into which, more and more purified, he entered.

  No voice was silent; the hymn diffused and multiplied itself in all its modulations: —

  “Hail to him who enters living! Come, flower of the Worlds! diamond from the fires of suffering! pearl without spot, desire without flesh, new link of earth and heaven, be Light! Conquering spirit, Queen of the world, come for thy crown! Victor of earth, receive thy diadem! Thou art of us!”

  The virtues of the Seraph shone forth in all their beauty.

  His earliest desire for heaven re-appeared, tender as childhood. The deeds of his life, like constellations, adorned him with their brightness. His acts of faith shone like the Jacinth of heaven, the color of sidereal fires. The pearls of Charity were upon him, — a chaplet of garnered tears! Love divine surrounded him with roses; and the whiteness of his Resignation obliterated all earthly trace.

  Soon, to the eyes of the Seers, he was but a point of flame, growing brighter and brighter as its motion was lost in the melodious acclamations which welcomed his entrance into heaven.

  The celestial accents made the two exiles weep.

  Suddenly a silence as of death spread like a mourning veil from the first to the highest sphere, throwing Wilfrid and Minna into a state of intolerable expectation.

  At this moment the Seraph was lost to sight within the sanctuary, receiving there the gift of Life Eternal.

  A movement of adoration made by the Host of heaven filled the two Seers with ecstasy mingled with terror. They felt that all were prostrate before the Throne, in all the spheres, in the Spheres Divine, in the Spiritual Spheres, and in the Worlds of Darkness.

  The Angels bent the knee to celebrate the Seraph’s glory; the Spirits bent the knee in token of their impatience; others bent the knee in the dark abysses, shuddering with awe.

  A mighty cry of joy gushed forth, as the spring gushes forth to its millions of flowering herbs sparkling with diamond dew-drops in the sunlight; at that instant the Seraph reappeared, effulgent, crying, “Eternal! Eternal! Eternal!”

  The universe heard the cry and understood it; it penetrated the spheres as God penetrates them; it took possession of the infinite; the Seven Divine Worlds heard the Voice and answered.

  A mighty movement was perceptible, as though whole planets, purified, were rising in dazzling light to become Eternal.

  Had the Seraph obtained, as a first mission, the work of calling to God the creations permeated by His Word?

  But already the sublime hallelujah was sounding in the ear of the desolate ones as the distant undulations of an ended melody. Already the celestial lights were fading like the gold and crimson tints of a setting sun. Death and Impurity recovered their prey.

  As the two mortals re-entered the prison of flesh, from which their spirit had momentarily been delivered by some priceless sleep, they felt like those who wake after a night of brilliant dreams, the memory of which still lingers in their soul, though their body retains no consciousness of them, and human language is unable to give utterance to them.

  The deep darkness of the sphere that was now about them was that of the sun of the visible worlds.

  “Let us descend to those lower regions,” said Wilfrid.

  “Let us do what he told us to do,” answered Minna. “We have seen the worlds on their march to God; we know the Path. Our diadem of stars is There.”

  Floating downward through the abysses, they re-entered the dust of the lesser worlds, and saw the Earth, like a subterranean cavern, suddenly illuminated to their eyes by the light which their souls brought with them, and which still environed them in a cloud of the paling harmonies of heaven. The sight was that which of old struck the inner eyes of Seers and Prophets. Ministers of all religions, Preachers of all pretended truths, Kings consecrated by Force and Terror, Warriors and Mighty men apportioning the Peoples among them, the Learned and the Rich standing above the suffering, noisy crowd, and noisily grinding them beneath their feet, — all were there, accompanied by their wives and servants; all
were robed in stuffs of gold and silver and azure studded with pearls and gems torn from the bowels of Earth, stolen from the depths of Ocean, for which Humanity had toiled throughout the centuries, sweating and blaspheming. But these treasures, these splendors, constructed of blood, seemed worn-out rags to the eyes of the two Exiles. “What do you there, in motionless ranks?” cried Wilfrid. They answered not. “What do you there, motionless?” They answered not. Wilfrid waved his hands over them, crying in a loud voice, “What do you there, in motionless ranks?” All, with unanimous action, opened their garments and gave to sight their withered bodies, eaten with worms, putrefied, crumbling to dust, rotten with horrible diseases.

  “You lead the nations to Death,” Wilfrid said to them. “You have depraved the earth, perverted the Word, prostituted justice. After devouring the grass of the fields you have killed the lambs of the fold. Do you think yourself justified because of your sores? I will warn my brethren who have ears to hear the Voice, and they will come and drink of the spring of Living Waters which you have hidden.”

  “Let us save our strength for Prayer,” said Minna. “Wilfrid, thy mission is not that of the Prophets or the Avenger or the Messenger; we are still on the confines of the lowest sphere; let us endeavor to rise through space on the wings of Prayer.”

  “Thou shalt be all my love!”

  “Thou shalt be all my strength!”

  “We have seen the Mysteries; we are, each to the other, the only being here below to whom Joy and Sadness are comprehensible; let us pray, therefore: we know the Path, let us walk in it.”

  “Give me thy hand,” said the Young Girl, “if we walk together, the way will be to me less hard and long.”

  “With thee, with thee alone,” replied the Man, “can I cross the awful solitude without complaint.”

  “Together we will go to Heaven,” she said.

  The clouds gathered and formed a darksome dais. Suddenly the pair found themselves kneeling beside a body which old David was guarding from curious eyes, resolved to bury it himself.

  Beyond those walls the first summer of the nineteenth century shone forth in all its glory. The two lovers believed they heard a Voice in the sun-rays. They breathed a celestial essence from the new-born flowers. Holding each other by the hand, they said, “That illimitable ocean which shines below us is but an image of what we saw above.”

  “Where are you going?” asked Monsieur Becker.

  “To God,” they answered. “Come with us, father.”

  ANALYTICAL STUDIES

  Balzac’s house in Paris, seen from the Rue Berton. Nowadays, Maison de Balzac is one of Paris’s top three literary museums.

  PHYSIOLOGY OF MARRIAGE

  Translated by Katharine Prescott Wormeley

  Published in 1829, Physiologie du Mariage brought Balzac his first fame, though perhaps infamy is more precise, as a writer. In this philosophical essay Balzac introduces his argument that passion is held in check by social advantage and that blind innocence is the greatest danger to well-being. The Physiology of Marriage objectively examines the economics and power relationships of seduction and love. Balzac proposes that marriage and the selection of a wife should be treated as a science, and the author examines topics ranging from moral education to methods for preventing adulterous relationships. Also, the work is surprisingly even-handed in its rough treatment of both men and women. Though addressed to a male audience, the book’s lively attack on the stale institution of marriage made it even more popular with its female readers.

  An original illustration

  CONTENTS

  INTRODUCTION

  FIRST PART. A GENERAL CONSIDERATION.

  MEDITATION I. THE SUBJECT.

  MEDITATION II. MARRIAGE STATISTICS.

  MEDITATION III. OF THE HONEST WOMAN.

  APHORISMS.

  MEDITATION IV. OF THE VIRTUOUS WOMAN.

  MEDITATION V. OF THE PREDESTINED.

  CATECHISM OF MARRIAGE.

  MEDITATION VI. OF BOARDING SCHOOLS.

  MEDITATION VII. OF THE HONEYMOON.

  MEDITATION VIII. OF THE FIRST SYMPTOMS.

  MEDITATION IX. EPILOGUE.

  SECOND PART. MEANS OF DEFENCE, INTERIOR AND EXTERIOR.

  MEDITATION X. A TREATISE ON MARITAL POLICY.

  MEDITATION XI. INSTRUCTION IN THE HOME.

  MEDITATION XII. THE HYGIENE OF MARRIAGE.

  MEDITATION XIII. OF PERSONAL MEASURES.

  MEDITATION XIV. OF APARTMENTS.

  MEDITATION XV. OF THE CUSTOM HOUSE.

  MEDITATION XVI. THE CHARTER OF MARRIAGE.

  MEDITATION XVII. THE THEORY OF THE BED.

  MEDITATION XVIII. OF MARITAL REVOLUTIONS.

  MEDITATION XIX. OF THE LOVER.

  MEDITATION XX. ESSAY ON POLICE.

  1. OF MOUSE-TRAPS.

  2. OF CORRESPONDENCE.

  3. OF SPIES.

  4. THE INDEX.

  5. OF THE BUDGET.

  MEDITATION XXI. THE ART OF RETURNING HOME.

  MEDITATION XXII. OF CATASTROPHES.

  THIRD PART. RELATING TO CIVIL WAR.

  MEDITATION XXIII. OF MANIFESTOES.

  MEDITATION XXIV. PRINCIPLES OF STRATEGY.

  MEDITATION XXV. OF ALLIES.

  1. OF RELIGIONS AND OF CONFESSION; CONSIDERED IN THEIR CONNECTION WITH MARRIAGE.

  2. OF THE MOTHER-IN-LAW.

  3. OF BOARDING SCHOOL FRIENDS AND INTIMATE FRIENDS.

  4. OF THE LOVER’S ALLIES.

  5. OF THE MAID.

  6. OF THE DOCTOR.

  MEDITATION XXVI. OF DIFFERENT WEAPONS.

  1. OF HEADACHES.

  2. OF NERVOUS AFFECTATIONS.

  3. OF MODESTY, IN ITS CONNECTION WITH MARRIAGE.

  MEDITATION XXVII. OF THE LAST SYMPTOMS.

  MINOTAURIC OBSERVATIONS.

  MEDITATION XXVIII. OF COMPENSATIONS.

  MEDITATION XXIX. OF CONJUGAL PEACE.

  MEDITATION XXX. CONCLUSION.

  POSTSCRIPT.

  INTRODUCTION

  “Marriage is not an institution of nature. The family in the east is entirely different from the family in the west. Man is the servant of nature, and the institutions of society are grafts, not spontaneous growths of nature. Laws are made to suit manners, and manners vary.

  “Marriage must therefore undergo the gradual development towards perfection to which all human affairs submit.”

  These words, pronounced in the presence of the Conseil d’Etat by Napoleon during the discussion of the civil code, produced a profound impression upon the author of this book; and perhaps unconsciously he received the suggestion of this work, which he now presents to the public. And indeed at the period during which, while still in his youth, he studied French law, the word ADULTERY made a singular impression upon him. Taking, as it did, a prominent place in the code, this word never occurred to his mind without conjuring up its mournful train of consequences. Tears, shame, hatred, terror, secret crime, bloody wars, families without a head, and social misery rose like a sudden line of phantoms before him when he read the solemn word ADULTERY! Later on, when he became acquainted with the most cultivated circles of society, the author perceived that the rigor of marriage laws was very generally modified by adultery. He found that the number of unhappy homes was larger than that of happy marriages. In fact, he was the first to notice that of all human sciences that which relates to marriage was the least progressive. But this was the observation of a young man; and with him, as with so many others, this thought, like a pebble flung into the bosom of a lake, was lost in the abyss of his tumultuous thoughts. Nevertheless, in spite of himself the author was compelled to investigate, and eventually there was gathered within his mind, little by little, a swarm of conclusions, more or less just, on the subject of married life. Works like the present one are formed in the mind of the author with as much mystery as that with which truffles grow on the scented plains of Perigord. Out of the primitive and holy horror which adultery caused him and the investigation which he had thoughtl
essly made, there was born one morning a trifling thought in which his ideas were formulated. This thought was really a satire upon marriage. It was as follows: A husband and wife found themselves in love with each other for the first time after twenty-seven years of marriage.

  He amused himself with this little axiom and passed a whole week in delight, grouping around this harmless epigram the crowd of ideas which came to him unconsciously and which he was astonished to find that he possessed. His humorous mood yielded at last to the claims of serious investigation. Willing as he was to take a hint, the author returned to his habitual idleness. Nevertheless, this slight germ of science and of joke grew to perfection, unfostered, in the fields of thought. Each phase of the work which had been condemned by others took root and gathered strength, surviving like the slight branch of a tree which, flung upon the sand by a winter’s storm, finds itself covered at morning with white and fantastic icicles, produced by the caprices of nightly frosts. So the sketch lived on and became the starting point of myriad branching moralizations. It was like a polypus which multiplies itself by generation. The feelings of youth, the observations which a favorable opportunity led him to make, were verified in the most trifling events of his after life. Soon this mass of ideas became harmonized, took life, seemed, as it were, to become a living individual and moved in the midst of those domains of fancy, where the soul loves to give full rein to its wild creations. Amid all the distractions of the world and of life, the author always heard a voice ringing in his ears and mockingly revealing the secrets of things at the very moment he was watching a woman as she danced, smiled, or talked. Just as Mephistopheles pointed out to Faust in that terrific assemblage at the Brocken, faces full of frightful augury, so the author was conscious in the midst of the ball of a demon who would strike him on the shoulder with a familiar air and say to him: “Do you notice that enchanting smile? It is a grin of hatred.” And then the demon would strut about like one of the captains in the old comedies of Hardy. He would twitch the folds of a lace mantle and endeavor to make new the fretted tinsel and spangles of its former glory. And then like Rabelais he would burst into loud and unrestrainable laughter, and would trace on the street-wall a word which might serve as a pendant to the “Drink!” which was the only oracle obtainable from the heavenly bottle. This literary Trilby would often appear seated on piles of books, and with hooked fingers would point out with a grin of malice two yellow volumes whose title dazzled the eyes. Then when he saw he had attracted the author’s attention he spelt out, in a voice alluring as the tones of an harmonica, Physiology of Marriage! But, almost always he appeared at night during my dreams, gentle as some fairy guardian; he tried by words of sweetness to subdue the soul which he would appropriate to himself. While he attracted, he also scoffed at me; supple as a woman’s mind, cruel as a tiger, his friendliness was more formidable than his hatred, for he never yielded a caress without also inflicting a wound. One night in particular he exhausted the resources of his sorceries, and crowned all by a last effort. He came, he sat on the edge of the bed like a young maiden full of love, who at first keeps silence but whose eyes sparkle, until at last her secret escapes her.