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Balzac ranks among the great
masters of the novel. In 1816 he began studying law at the Sorbonne, but
after receiving his license in 1819 he decided to abandon law for
literature. Throughout his life he worked with feverish activity. He was
ridden with debts, which were increased rather than relieved by his
business ventures.
The novelist
would lock himself away during creative bursts, drinking coffee and
eating only fruit and eggs. When he finally took a break, he was known
to consume huge quantities of food.
One report recalls that at the Véry restaurant he consumed at one
sitting "a hundred Ostend oysters, twelve cutlets of salt-meadow
mutton, a duck with turnips, two partridges and a Normandy sole,"
not to mention the desserts, fruit and liqueurs he finished up with.
When eating a business lunch, it's
important to know who's paying. Even then, the question of what to eat
is fraught. Order the lobster on someone else's expense account and you
look grasping. (Can they afford it? Will it scupper the deal?) But order
a side salad with tap water and you look like a wimp.
These pitfalls are perfectly illustrated by a meal eaten in Paris
by Balzac, who had asked his publisher, Monsieur Werdet, to lunch. The
latter thought Balzac's choice of restaurant- a deluxe establishment
called Very - was a little grand. Not wishing to drain the author's
finances, he reined in his appetite and ordered a meagre bowl of soup
and a chicken wing. Balzac failed to follow suit. According to the food
historian Giles MacDonagh, he ingested "a hundred Ostend oysters,
12 Pre-Sale mutton cutlets, a duckling with turnips, a brace of roast
partridges, a sole Normand, without counting hors d'oeuvres, entremets,
fruits etc".
The most exorbitant wines and liqueurs were taken throughout, as Werdet
watched hungrily. After his last juicy bite, Balzac turned to his guest
and confessed he had no money on him. "By the way, my dear fellow,
you wouldn't have any cash on you, would you?" Werdet was
horrified. The 40 francs he had in his wallet weren't enough. So Balzac
took five francs for the tip and billed his hapless publisher for the
rest- a whopping F62.50 - the next day.
Evidently Balzac could be something of a glutton. But he could also be
an abstemious and even a careless eater. During his legendary intensive
bouts of writing he would wear a monk's robe and resented the intrusion
of mealtimes, preferring to keep himself going with endless cups of
stomach-cramping black coffee. A regular writing dinner was consommé,
steak, salad and a glass of water.
Even at feasts, Balzac often preferred to observe the gluttony of
others than to indulge himself. He made an exception of the fruit
course. In the words of his biographer Graham Robb, "he would
remove his cravat, undo his shirt and demolish a giant pyramid of pears
and peaches". The blacker and more desiccated the fruit, the
better. He was said to have once stockpiled as many as 1,500 pears.
Balzac's interest in food was encyclopaedic. The cycle of La Comedie
Humaine contains 15 different kinds of fish and 16 kinds of fruit, as
well as countless meals eaten by parvenu shopkeepers or lawyers.
Balzac's father was a peasant made good, a deputy mayor who drank
tree-sap in the hope of prolonging his life. His mother was a wealthy
draper's daughter. This background imbued Balzac with oddly mixed table
manners. He gobbled and ate off his knife like a peasant- but his
culinary sensibilities were refined. His dinner parties often had
themes. Once he served a meal of nothing but onions: onion soup, his
favourite onion puree, onion juice, onion fritters and
onions with truffles. The idea was to showcase the purgative properties
of the vegetable. It worked. All his guests were sick.
Balzac was an excellent art
connoisseur. His novel Cousin Pons is an outstanding example:
Sylvain Pons earns a meager
living conducting at the ballet and giving private music lessons. He is
very fond of fine food and fine art. Over the years, he has satisfied
the latter craving by slowly accumulating pieces that now clutter the
small apartment he shares with his friend Schmucke. Sylvain doesn't know
it, but the collection is worth a surprising amount of money. He
satisfies his taste for fine food by frequently going to dinner at his
cousin Marville's house. Marville's wife dislikes having Sylvain at her
table, for he is rustic and abrupt. He is finally kicked out
completely when he tries to find a suitor for the Marville's daughter,
Cecile, and bungles the job. Shortly afterwards, Sylvain falls ill. His
portress, Cibot, enters the rooms to nurse him, recognizes the value of
his art collection and schemes to get it. She gets Remonencq, who runs a
nearby pawn shop, and Elie Magus, a Jew with an eye for art, to help
her. The attack begins when Cibot convinces Schmucke to sell some of
Sylvain's paintings in order to pay for the doctor bills. The plot
thickens as Sylvain's doctor and an attorney get involved. The attorney
goes to Madame de Marville and convinces her to fleece Sylvain or risk a
smaller inheritance from Sylvain. Her husband regretfully agrees also.
Meanwhile, Sylvain has become suspicious of Cibot. He struggles out of
his sick bed to find Magus studying the collectibles in his bedroom. The
other rooms are empty. Sylvain realizes his friend Schmucke has been
duped, and he plans a counter-attack. He writes a false will, leaving
all his money to Cibot for her service at his final illness. He leaves
it where she will see it. He then writes a second, true will that leaves
his money to the crown on the condition that they grant Schmucke a
lifetime annuity. Sylvain then dies. Schmucke becomes the new target of
the others' greed. They nearly convince him to sign a paper forfeiting
most of his inheritance, but when he realizes that the Marvilles are
accusing him of having duped their cousin he falls ill and dies. The
money passes on to the Marvilles. The attorney gets an important new
job; the doctor gets a sinecure, and Magus gets the pictures. Even Cibot
is rewarded; she gets an annuity and marries Remonencq after he kills
her husband.
La gastronomie humaine.(Food) (eating habits and interest in food of French author Honore de
Balzac) copyright, New Statesman, 1999, by Bee Wilson/ and
Art Archive
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