The Three Clerks of St. Nicholas
The Continence of King Francis the First
The Merry Tattle of the Nuns of Poissy
How the Chateau D’azay Came to Be Built
The Danger of Being Too Innocent
The Sermon of the Merry Vicar of Meudon
Concerning a Provost Who Did Not Recognise Things
About the Monk Amador, Who Was a Glorious Abbot of Turpenay
How the Pretty Maid of Portillon Convinced Her Judge
In Which It is Demonstrated That Fortune is Always Feminine
Concerning a Poor Man Who Was Called Le Vieux Par-Chemins
A Street Of Paris And Its Inhabitant
Petty Troubles of Married Life
Letters During 1839, 1840, 1841
Letters During 1843, 1844, 1845
The Complete Repertory of the Comedie Humaine (A-Z)
HONORE DE BALZAC
"Sans genie, je suis flambe!"
Volumes, almost libraries, have been written about Balzac; and perhaps of very few writers, putting aside the three or four greatest of all, is it so difficult to select one or a few short phrases which will in any way denote them, much more sum them up. Yet the five words quoted above, which come from an early letter to his sister when as yet he had not "found his way," characterize him, I think, better than at least some of the volumes I have read about him, and supply, when they are properly understood, the most valuable of all keys and companions for his comprehension.
"If I have not genius, it is all up with me!" A very matter-of-fact person may say: "Why! there is nothing wonderful in this. Everybody knows what genius is wanted to make a name in literature, and most people think they have it." But this would be a little short-sighted, and only excusable because of the way in which the word "genius" is too commonly bandied about. As a matter of fact, there is not so very much genius in the world; and a great deal of more than fair performance is attainable and attained by more or less decent allowances or exhibitions of talent. In prose, more especially, it is possible to gain a very high place, and to deserve it, without any genius at all: though it is difficult, if not impossible, to do so in verse. But what Balzac felt (whether he was conscious in detail of the feeling or not) when he used these words to his sister Laure, what his critical readers must feel when they have read only a very little of his work, what they must feel still more strongly when they have read that work as a whole—is that for him there is