things! Speaking of Daniel d'Arthez, that one of his heroes who, with
Albert Savarus and Raphael, most nearly resembles himself, he writes:
"Daniel would not admit the existence of talent without profound
metaphysical knowledge. At this moment he was in the act of despoiling
both ancient and modern philosophy of all their wealth in order to
assimilate it. He desired, like Moliere, to become a profound
philosopher first of all, a writer of comedies afterwards." Some
readers there are, indeed, who think that philosophy superabounds with
Balzac, that the surplus of general hypotheses overflows at times, and
that the novels are too prone to digressions. Be that as it may, it
seems incontestible that this was his master faculty, the virtue and
vice of his thought. Let us see, however, by what singular detour this
power of generalization--the antithesis, one might say, of the
creative power--increased in him the faculty of the poetic visionary.

It is important, first of all, to note that this power of the
visionary could not be put directly into play. Balzac had not long
enough to live. The list of his works, year by year, prepared by his
sister, shows that from the moment he achieved his reputation till the
day of his death he never took time for rest or observation or the
study of mankind by daily and close contact, like Moliere or
Saint-Simon. He cut his life in two, writing by night, sleeping by day,
and after sparing not a single hour for calling, promenades or sentiment.
Indeed, he would not admit this troublesome factor of sentiment,
except at a distance and through letters--"because it forms one's
style"! At any rate, that is the kind of love he most willingly
admitted--unless an exception be made of the mysterious intimacies of
which his correspondence has left traces. During his youth he had
followed this same habit of heavy labor, and as a result the
experience of this master of exact literature was reduced to a