Reading Holiday: 'The Grande Bretèche' (Balzac)

Introduction

This book contains the following short stories by the great French writer Honoré de Balzac:
'The Grande Bretèche'
'The Message'
'Facino Cane'
'Madame Firmiani'
'On the Current State of the Book Trade'
I will briefly record my thoughts after reading these.

'The Grande Bretèche'

The theme, or rather the core 'incident,' was already familiar to me from a short story by Poe, so my interest in reading it lay in the progression of the story leading up to that point—how the author would handle this material, his skill, his 'knife work.'
The narrator is a doctor (a familiar figure in Balzac's works, Bianchon) who is staying in the area, having been 'entrusted with the treatment of a wealthy lady.'
He becomes interested in the ruins that serve as the setting for this story, and it becomes his daily pleasure to wander through the remains of the mansion, which seems to have a story behind it, while indulging in various literary fantasies.
One day, an unknown notary appears and warns him not to approach the ruins in question, telling him the reason (the circumstances of the death of the countess who was the last owner).
Intrigued by the notary's story, the narrator then draws more detailed information from the landlady of the inn where he is staying.
Finally, he charms the inn's maid, who was once a servant to the late countess, and learns the truth of the matter.
The mysterious ruins—the countess's enigmatic will—the handsome Spaniard who disappeared leaving behind a large sum of gold coins and diamonds—and the private lives of the count and countess... the skill with which he gradually approaches the core is as brilliant as that of a seasoned detective novelist like Ranpo Edogawa or Seishi Yokomizo.
The method the count took itself, as I mentioned at the beginning, was something I was already personally familiar with, but more than that, the highlight of this work lies in the very last line—the single word uttered by the count.
That chilling word is the finishing touch that tightens the work.
It might be interesting to compare it with Poe's famous short story 'The Cask of Amontillado,' which has a similar theme.
By the way, 'The Cask of Amontillado' was published in 1846, and this work first appeared in 1832, so this one is 14 years earlier.

'The Message'

This is a work that was taken up in a circle during my student days, so in that sense, it is a nostalgic short story.
At the time, the text I used was the Iwanami Bunko edition.
Reading it again in this Kobunsha Classic New Translation Library edition, I realized that I remembered almost nothing of the content I thought I remembered. All I remembered was the plot—the so-called story—and the scene where a key was embedded in the body of a young man who died in a stagecoach accident, and when it was pulled out, it was covered in blood.
As for the story itself—
Two young men traveling together on the roof of the same stagecoach become friends and end up boasting to each other about their respective lovers, but the other young man dies in a sudden rollover accident.
The narrator, 'I,' as the executor of the dead friend's will, is forced to take on the role of returning the letter he received from his lover to her and informing her of his death.
'I,' as the executor of the dead friend's will, head to the mansion where his lover lives, but...
The charm of this work does not lie in its plot—its story.
The movements of the heart of 'I,' who became the executor of a chance friend's will due to an unexpected twist of fate, the appearance of the kind but boring and vulgar country aristocrats, the helplessness of the young woman who is his wife, and the sorrow of her having to accept the death of her lover, who was her only comfort and hope for life in a country life stagnant with boredom and inertia—the tapestry woven by these elements is the charm of this work.
Reading it again this time, I recalled that in my student days, I couldn't empathize at all with the passage where it says, 'Both of us were young, that is, at an age where we would be attracted to a mature woman of about 35 to 40,' and I laughed it off. After all, I am a person who has never once in my life fallen in love with an older woman (laughs).

'Facino Cane'

Since it's called 'Cane' (which sounds like 'kane,' meaning money in Japanese), it's a story about 'money'—that's a joke, but since the commentary in this volume also says 'Desire for Gold and Clairvoyance,' it might not be entirely a joke.
What left an impression on me in this work was not the 'desire for gold and clairvoyance' of the old blind clarinetist, but the intense nostalgia for his homeland, Venice (the Republic), that flows consistently behind his strange history.
The desire for gold seems to be used merely as a substitute or metaphor for that for his homeland.
In other words, the desire and obsession for gold overlap (double exposure) with that for his homeland, Venice, exerting an effect that increases that obsession. Balzac is a writer with a reputation for depicting intense 'passions,' and this is a fine work—a good short story—that makes one nod in agreement, saying, 'Indeed, that is so.'
The scenes of downtown life at the beginning and the boisterous wedding banquet woven by the people living there are full of a simple, rough charm that is typical of the downtown area, and it has a much more proletarian literary flavor than some proletarian literature.
The scene where the blind clarinetist tells his strange life story on the riverbank at night, having escaped from that commotion, forms a nice contrast with the lively scene of the wedding banquet before it, and it is a wonderfully crafted composition.
The strange life story told by this blind clarinetist is something that makes you shiver, reminding you of a scene from 'The Count of Monte Cristo.'
By the way, 'The Count of Monte Cristo' was serialized in newspapers from 1844 to 1846, and this work by Balzac first appeared in 1836, so this one is indeed the senior.
The ending (the punchline) is so abrupt that I cannot help but feel disappointed, or perhaps I should say it feels like a waste. The content was sufficient to make one expect a turbulent adventure story to unfold from here on...
However, precisely because of that, I cannot help but admire Balzac's ability to cut the story off here, give the reader an unexpected letdown, and make them smile bitterly at being outsmarted.

'Madame Firmiani'

I will quote from the 'Commentary' text.
At the beginning, 'the utterances of various types of people in Paris are introduced' regarding Madame Firmiani's reputation in society. The number is 'seventeen types'!
'Even with seventeen different answers,' 'the true identity of Madame Firmiani, a married woman whom young Octave loves enough to pour his inheritance into... (omitted)... remains unknown.'
Young Octave confesses the secret of why he poured his fortune into Madame Firmiani, even going against custom (without consulting his uncle), in front of 'his uncle who came to Paris to find out the truth,' but...
As the translator also states, I cannot help but lament the regret that some parts remain unsatisfying. Perhaps it was unavoidable due to the time and space given to the author.
More than that, the technique of introducing Madame Firmiani's character at the beginning through various types of people swarming in Paris—especially since the conclusion ends with her true identity remaining unknown—is a place that could easily have become flat and boring, but it doesn't make you think so; while the mystery remains a mystery, it succeeds in depicting the image of Madame Firmiani from multiple angles, and I am once again struck by Balzac's descriptive skill, or rather, the sharpness of his observation of people.
This work also reflects Balzac's characteristic technique of 'reappearing characters,' and names of people and families that appear in other Balzac works, such as the Duke of Maufrigneuse, the Marquise de Listomère, the Ronquerolles family, and the Vandenesse family, appear frequently.
Since 'the uncle who came to Paris to find out the truth' himself is a character who also appears in 'The Priest of Tours,' it can be said that it is an interesting piece in that respect as well.

'On the Current State of the Book Trade'

This is the only 'critique' in this book, and as the translator says, it is a 'miscellaneous piece.'
It gives a glimpse of Balzac's pride as a writer and his business sense (desire for enterprise), and while it is a document that allows us to know the circumstances of the publishing industry at the time, it is also a piece that makes us feel a different charm from his novels.
Discussing the problem of intermediate exploitation, it is quite interesting when compared with the current distribution system in Japan.
Mentioning the membership-based direct sales reservation system and the solidarity of booksellers, if Balzac were alive today, wouldn't he be moving around happily like a fish in water, such as establishing a writers' association or booksellers' union, or utilizing crowdfunding?
When I imagine that scene, it is somehow heartwarming, and I cannot help but smile.

Afterword

Literally, a simple impression—a brief thought.
Although I omitted it in the main text (?), 'The Grande Bretèche,' 'The Message,' and 'Madame Firmiani' are all depicted as if it is natural for the French aristocracy to have affairs.
Moreover, they are sympathetic to women who have young lovers (have affairs), and very cold to the husbands whose wives are stolen (who are cheated on). It is the exact opposite of the modern Japanese sensibility, which tends to bash the side that has an affair, regardless of gender.
To understand this sensibility, it might be necessary to know the marriage circumstances of the aristocracy in France at the time, its historical background, and customs.
If I keep that in mind—or research it—and read it again, perhaps a more interesting impression might come to mind, but for now, I will take my leave here.