It belongs to another
adventure, where it mattered exceedingly, an adventure that took place
before Lucien was heard of at all. As for his story, and for the
reality with which it may be endowed, this depends solely upon our
understanding of _his_ world, _his_ experience; and if Delphine's old
affairs are no part of it, our previous knowledge of her cannot help
us with Lucien. It detracts, rather, from the force of his effect; it
sets up a relation that has nothing to do with him, a relation between
Delphine and the reader, which only obstructs our view of the world as
Lucien sees it. Of the characters in the remoter planes of the action
(and that is Delphine's position in his story) no more is expected
than their value for the purpose of the action in the foreground. That
is all that can be _used_ in the book; whatever more they may bring
will lie idle, will contribute nothing, and may even become an
embarrassment. The numberless people in the Comedie who carry their
lengthening train of old associations from book to book may give the
Comedie, as a whole, the look of unity that Balzac desired; that is
another point. But in any single story, such of these people as appear
by the way, incidentally, must for the time being shed their
irrelevant life; if they fail to do so, they disturb the unity of the
story and confuse its truth.

Balzac's unrivalled power of placing a figure in its surroundings is
not to be explained, then, by his skill in working his separate pieces
together into one great web; the design of the Human Comedy, so
largely artificial, forced upon it as his purpose widened, is no
enhancement of the best of his books. The fullness of experience which
is rendered in these is exactly the same--is more expressive, if
anything--when they are taken out of their context; it is all to be
attributed to their own art. I come back, therefore, to the way in
which Balzac handled his vast store of facts, when he set out to tell
a story, and made them count in the action which he brought to the
fore. He seldom, I think, regards them as material to be disguised, to
be given by implication in the drama itself. He is quite content to
offer his own impression of the general landscape of the story, a
leisurely display which brings us finally to the point of action. Then
the action starts forward with a reserve of vigour that helps it in
various ways. The more important of these, as I see them, will be
dealt with in the next