IV
One of the dreams of Balzac was of a heroic and devoted friendship, two souls, two courages, two intelligences blended into the same will. Pierre and Jaffier of Otway's Venice Preserv'd had impressed him greatly and he spoke of them many times. L'Histoire des Treize is nothing but this idea enlarged and complicated: one powerful unit composed of multiple beings acting unquestioningly toward an accepted and suitable goal. We know what gripping, mysterious and terrible effects he has drawn from this starting point in Ferragus, La Duchesse de Langeais, and La Fille aux Yeux d'Or; but real life and the intellectual life were not as clearly separated for Balzac as they were for certain authors, and his creations followed him outside of his study. He wanted to form an association after the fashion of that which united Ferragus, Montriveau, Ronquerolles, and their companions. Only it was not done in such bold strokes; a certain number of friends were to lend each other aid and relief at all times, and to work according to their strengths for the success or the fortune of the individual who would be selected, with the understanding that that person should in turn work for the others. Very much infatuated with his project, Balzac recruited some associates whom he put in contact with each other but took precautions as if it were a political society or a meeting of Carbonari. This needless mystery amused him considerably, and he pursued his activities with the utmost seriousness. When their numbers were complete, he assembled the adepts and made known the goal of the society. It need not be said that everyone was in agreement, and that the statutes were approved with enthusiasm. No one more than Balzac possessed the ability to agitate, to overexcite, to intoxicate the coolest heads, the most considered intellects. He had an eloquence that was overflowing, tumultuous, rousing, that carried you off: no objection was possible with him; he would immediately drown you in such a deluge of words that you were compelled to be silent. Besides he had an answer for everything; then he would cast upon you glances that were so sharp, so brilliant, so full of a mysterious power that he would infuse you with his own desire.
The association which counted among its members G. de C., L. G., L. D., J. S., Merle, who was called Handsome Merle, myself, and a few others who it is not necessary to name, was called Le Cheval Rouge. Why Le Cheval Rouge, you are going to say, rather than Le Lion d'Or or La Croix de Malte? The first meeting of the members took place at a restaurant on the Quai de l'Entrepôt, at the end of the Pont de la Tournelle, whose sign was a carrier's horse, and this had given Balzac the idea of that somewhat bizarre, unintelligible, and cabalistic designation.
When it was necessary to organize a project, to agree on certain steps, Balzac, elected by acclamation grandmaster of the order, sent by one of the members to each horse (that was the slang name used by the members among themselves) a letter on which was drawn a small red horse with the words: "Stable, at such and such a day, at such and such a location"; the place changed each time, out of fear of awakening curiosity or suspicion. In the society, although we all knew each other and for a long time for the most part, we were to avoid speaking to each other or approaching each other except in the most distant manner to avoid any idea of complicity. Often, in the middle of a salon, Balzac would pretend to meet me for the first time, and by blinks of the eye and facial expressions such as actors make in their asides, he would call my attention to his finesse and seem to say to me: "See how well I play my game!"
What was the goal of Le Cheval Rouge? Did it wish to change the government, set forth a new religion, found a philosophical school, master men, seduce women? Far less than that. It sought to take control of the newspapers, take control of the theatres, sit in the seats of the Academy, receive an array of decorations, and end modestly as a peer of France, minister and millionaire. All this was easy, according to Balzac; we had only to work in harmony with each other, and by such modest ambition we should prove well the moderation of our characters. This devil of a man had such a powerful vision that he described to each of us, in the most minute details, the splendid and glorious life that the association would procure for us. As we listened to him, we believed ourselves already leaning, at the heart of a beautiful mansion, against the white marble of the fireplace, red ribbons around our necks, a shining badge over our hearts, receiving with an affable air the greatest politicians, artists and writers, who were shocked by our rapid and mysterious fortune. For Balzac, the future did not exist, everything was in the present; he drew it out of the mists and made it palpable; an idea was so vivid that it became real in a certain way: in speaking of a dinner, he ate it as he told its story; of a carriage, he felt the soft cushions under him and the steady ride; a perfect well‑being, a profound jubilation were then shown on his face, although often he was hungry and walking over a rough pavement with worn‑out shoes.
The whole association would push, praise, and extol, by articles, advertisements and conversations, any one of its members who had just published a book or staged a drama. Whoever showed himself to be hostile to one of the horses would provoke the kicks of the entire stable; Le Cheval Rouge would not forgive: the culpable became the target of insults, cutting remarks, pin pricks, taunts and other means of driving a man to despair, which are well known by the smaller newspapers.
I smile while betraying after so many years the innocent secret of this literary freemasonry, which had no other result than some persuasive words for a book whose success did not require them. But, at that time, we
took the thing seriously, we imagined ourselves to be the Treize themselves in person, and I was surprised to find that obstacles still existed; but the world is so badly designed! What an important and mysterious air we had in challenging other men, poor conventional men who in no way doubted our power.
After four or five meetings, Le Cheval Rouge ceased to exist; most of the horses could not afford to pay for their oats in this symbolic manger, and the association which was going to seize total control was dissolved, because its members often lacked the fifteen francs to pay their share. Each one now dove back alone into the chaos of life, fighting his own fight, and it is this that explains why Balzac was not a member of the Academy and died a simple knight of the Legion of Honor.
The idea however was good, for Balzac, as he himself says of Nucingen, could not have a bad idea. Others who have succeeded have set to work without surrounding themselves with the same romantic fantasies.