“Ingenious repartee, subtle observations, sparkling
gibes, pictures painted with brilliant clarity came thick and fast in a
spontaneous, effervescent rush, offered up without arrogance or artifice,
spoken with sincerity, and savored with delight. Above all, the guests shone by
their refinement and their inventiveness, which were nothing short of artistic.
You will find elegant manners elsewhere in Europe—you will find cordiality,
bonhomie, sophistication—but only in Paris, in this salon, and in those of whom
I’ve just spoken, does there flourish the special wit that gives all these
social virtues a pleasing, multifaceted unity, a sort of fluvial momentum by
which that profusion of musings, aphorisms, tales, and pages from history wend
their way in an easy and untrammeled flow. Paris alone, the capital of taste,
possesses the secret that makes of conversation a joust, in which every
temperament is encapsulated in a quip, in which each has his say, all his
experience condensed in a word, in which all find amusement, refreshment, and
exercise. And only there, too, will you truly exchange your ideas; there you
will not, like the dolphin in the fable, carry a monkey on your shoulders;
there you will be understood, with no danger of wagering gold against pot
metal. Secrets artfully betrayed, exchanges both light and deep, everything
undulates, spins, changes luster and color with each passing sentence. Keen
judgments and breathless narrations follow one upon the next. Every eye
listens, every gesture is a question, every glance an answer…. Never did the
phenomenon of speech, to which, when carefully studied and skillfully wielded,
an actor or storyteller owes his glory, cast so overpowering a spell on me….But
if these things are told with all their candor intact, all their natural
forthrightness, all their illusory aimlessness, perhaps you will fully grasp
the charm of a true French party, captured at the moment when the sweetest
companionship makes everyone forget his own interests, his exclusive self-love,
or, if you like, his pretensions.”—French novelist Honore de Balzac (1799-1850),
“Another Study of Womankind” (1842, translated by Jordan Stump) in The Human Comedy: Selected Stories (2014)
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