Lost Illusions (Penguin Classics) by Honore de Balzac

Author:Honore de Balzac [Balzac, Honore de]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780140442519
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2005-01-27T05:00:00+00:00

20. Last visit to the Cénacle

WHO, unless he were a Diogenes, would not understand Lucien’s feelings as he climbed the muddy, smelly stairs of his hotel, as the key grated in the door-lock and as he looked once more on the dirty tiles and pitiable mantelpiece of this horribly bare and squalid room? On the table he found the manuscript of his novel and a note from Daniel d’Arthez:

‘Our friends are almost satisfied with your work, dear poet. You can offer it with increased confidence, they say, to friends and enemies alike. We have read your charming article on the Panorama-Dramatique play: you must be arousing as much envy in the literary world as regret in us.’

‘Regret? What does he mean?’ cried Lucien, surprised at the tone of politeness prevailing in this note. Was he then a stranger to the Cénacle? After devouring the delicious fruit which the Eve of the greenroom had offered him he was even keener on keeping the esteem and friendship of the brethren of the rue des Quatre-Vents. For a few moments he remained plunged in meditation, comparing his present life in this room with the future awaiting him in Coralie’s flat. Oscillating between honourable and corrupting thoughts, he sat down and began to examine his work in the state in which his friends had returned it to him. How great was his astonishment! From chapter to chapter, the skilful and devoted pen of these great but as yet unknown men had changed dross into rich ore. A full, close, concise and vigorous dialogue had been substituted for the conversations which he now realized were idle chatter compared with a discourse breathing the very spirit of the times. His portraits, somewhat woolly in outline, had been brought into strong and colourful relief; all of them were linked up with the interesting phenomena of human life by means of physiological comments, due no doubt to Bianchon, expressed with subtlety and infusing life into them. His verbose descriptions had taken on substance and vividness. In place of the misshapen, ill-clad child of his imagination he found an entrancing white-robed maiden with rose-coloured girdle and scarf, a ravishing creation. When night came, it caught him with streaming eyes, overwhelmed at this greatness of heart, realizing the value of such a lesson, admiring these emendations which taught him more about literature and art than his four years of reading, comparison and study had done. The correction of a badly-sketched cartoon by masterly touches taken direct from life always reveals far more than theories and observations.

‘What friends! What hearts of gold! How fortunate I am!’ he exclaimed as he locked the manuscript up.

Carried away by an impulse natural to poetic and excitable natures, he rushed to Daniel’s room. However, as he mounted the staircase, he felt less worthy of these great-hearted men whom nothing was able to divert from the path of honour. A voice was telling him that, if Daniel had loved Coralie, he would have refused to share her with Camusot.

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