Cousin Betteby Honore de Balzac, Johanna Ward
“Bette is a wronged soul; and when her passion does break, it is, as Balzac says, sublime and terrifying,” wrote V. S. Pritchett. A late masterpiece in Balzac’s La Comédie Humaine, Cousin Bette is the story of a Vosges peasant who rebels against her scornful upper-class relatives, skillfully turning their selfish obsessions against them. The novel exemplifies what Henry James described as Balzac’s “huge, all-compassing, all-desiring, all-devouring love of reality.”
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By Honore de Balzac
Wildside PressCopyright © 2003 Honore de Balzac
All right reserved.
Toward the middle of the month of July, in the year 1838, one of those vehicles called milords that had lately made their appearance in Paris drove along the Rue de l’Université, carrying a heavily built man of middle height in the uniform of a captain of the National Guard.
Among Parisians, of whose intelligence we hear so much, there are some who think themselves infinitely better men in uniform than in their ordinary clothes, and who imagine that the taste of women is so depraved that they will be favorably impressed—so they fancy—by the sight of a busby and military trappings.
The features of this captain of the second company expressed a self-satisfaction that gave a positive radiance to his ruddy complexion and his rather chubby face. This halo, bestowed upon the brows of retired tradesmen by money made in business, marked him out as one of the elect of Paris—an ex–deputy mayor of his district at least. And, needless to say, the ribbon of the Legion of Honor adorned his chest, which was dashingly padded out in the Prussian style.
Proudly ensconced in the corner of the milord, this decorated gentleman allowed his attention to stray over the passers-by—who, in Paris, often in this way come in for pleasant smiles meant forbeautiful eyes that are not present.
The milord stopped in the part of the road between the Rue de Bellechasse and the Rue de Bourgogne, at the door of a large house that had recently been built on part of the court of an old mansion standing in its own garden. The mansion had been preserved, and remained in its original condition at the end of the court, whose size had been reduced by half.
The way in which the captain accepted the help of the driver as he got down from the milord was enough in itself to betray a man in his fifties. There are certain movements whose manifest heaviness is as indiscreet as a birth certificate.
The captain drew his yellow glove on to his right hand again, and without consulting the concierge, made his way toward the flight of steps leading to the ground floor of the mansion, with an air that meant “She is mine!”
Paris porters take things in at a glance; they never stop decorated gentlemen of heavy gait who wear blue uniforms. In other words, they recognize money when they see it.
This whole ground floor was occupied by the Baron Hulot d’Ervy, Commissary-General under the Republic, late officer-in-charge of the Army Commissariat, and now head of one of the principal departments of the War Ministry, Councilor of State, a senior officer of the Legion of Honor, and so on and so forth.
Baron Hulot had himself taken the name of d’Ervy, his birthplace, in order to distinguish himself from his brother, the celebrated General Hulot, colonel of the grenadiers of the Imperial Guard, created Count de Forzheim by the Emperor after the campaign of 1809.
The elder brother, the Count, to whose charge the younger brother had been committed, had, with paternal prudence, placed him in military administration, in which, thanks to the services of both brothers, the Baron had won, and indeed deserved, the favor of Napoleon. From the year 1807 Baron Hulot had been Commissary General of the armies in Spain.
After ringing, the bourgeois captain made desperate efforts to straighten his coat, which had wrinkled up both in front and behind—the result of a prominent corporation. Admitted on sight by a manservant in uniform, this important and imposing man followed the maid, who announced, as she opened the door of the drawing room, “Monsieur Crevel!”
On hearing this name, so admirably suited to the figure of its bearer, a tall, fair, well-preserved woman rose as if she had received an electric shock.
“Hortense, my angel, go into the garden with your cousin Bette,” she said quietly to her daughter, who was working at her embroidery a little distance away.
After making a gracious bow to the captain, Mademoiselle Hortense Hulot went out by a French window, taking with her a dried-up spinster who looked older than the Baroness, although she was five years younger.
“It is about your marriage,” Cousin Bette whispered in the ear of her young cousin Hortense, without seeming to be in the least offended by the way in which the Baroness had sent them away, treating her as of almost no consequence.
This cousin’s style of dress would, if need be, have accounted for this lack of ceremony.
The old maid was dressed in a maroon-colored merino dress, whose cut and trimmings suggested the Restoration,an embroidered collar worth about three francs, and a stitched straw hat with blue satin bows edged with straw, of the kind worn by old-clothes women in the market. At the sight of her kid slippers, whose style suggested a fourth-rate shoe shop, a stranger would have hesitated before greeting Cousin Bette as a relation of the family, for she looked just like a daily sewing woman. Nevertheless, the old maid gave a little friendly nod to Monsieur Crevel as she went out, a greeting to which that personage replied with a look of mutual understanding.
From the Trade Paperback edition.
Excerpted from Cousin Betty by Honore de Balzac Copyright © 2003 by Honore de Balzac. Excerpted by permission.
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Meet the Author
Johanna Ward (also known as Kate Reading) is an award-winning narrator and actor. She is a company member at Woolly Mammoth Theatre and has appeared on many other stages. She and her husband, actor-narrator Michael Kramer (Nick Bernard), live with their two children in the Washington, D.C. area.
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
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One of the rare books that I've read with a good plot that kept me guessing. To be a soap opera, it had many good life lessons. I highly recommend.
This book is one good classi that everyone should admire. Not to say Read!
there was a slight problem with the e-book. Some sentences were missing from the bottom of one page to the top of the next and caused some little bit of confusion at some points in the story.
Boring book. Also hard to read when you have to decipher all the typos.
*SPOILERS* I am surprised at how much I enjoyed this book. I now wish I had read it (like I was supposed to) in History 103 or whatever it was. I guess I was just too busy reading the 1300 page course book we were assigned. :P For the whole book, I had been rooting for Cousin Bette. Her reasons might have seemed petty for some but the Hulot deserved ever speck of her vengeance. He was a dirty old man. I was disappointed that of all those she had focused her energy for revenge on, only one truly received the results of years of hard work. In the end, I felt for Madame Marneffe. I quickly got over the virtuous Madame Hulot. The Hulot women and Crevel’s daughter seemed weak. Cousin Bette and Madame Marneffe were clever, though Marneffe shallow. The young Hulot was the redeemer of the family. And Hulot, the dirty old man, deserved so much worse. Honore de Balzac was racist, weirdly sexist (changed from feminist to douche once or twice), but extremely observant of the human condition, particularly of Paris in the early 1800s. He also seemed to have a deep respect for the arts but little for the artists. He also seemed to sometimes respect the tenacity of peasants while as once condemning them in disdain.