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Notwithstanding the discipline which Marechal Suchet had introduced into his army corps, he was unable to prevent a short period of trouble and disorder at the taking of Tarragona. According to certain fair-minded military men, this intoxication of victory bore a striking resemblance to pillage, though the marechal promptly suppressed it. Order being re-established, each regiment quartered in its respective lines, and the commandant of the city appointed, military administration began. The place assumed a mongrel aspect. Though all things were organized on a French system, the Spaniards were left free to follow "in petto" their national tastes.
This period of pillage (it is difficult to determine how long it lasted) had, like all other sublunary effects, a cause, not so difficult to discover. In the marechal's army was a regiment, composed almost entirely of Italians and commanded by a certain Colonel Eugene, a man of remarkable bravery, a second Murat, who, having entered the military service too late, obtained neither a Grand Duchy of Berg nor a Kingdom of Naples, nor balls at the Pizzo. But if he won no crown he had ample opportunity to obtain wounds, and it was not surprising that he met with several. His regiment was composed of the scattered fragments of the Italian legion. This legion was to Italy what the colonial battalions are to France. Its permanent cantonments, established on the island of Elba, served as an honorable place of exile for the troublesome sons of good families and for those great men who have just missed greatness, whom society brands with a hot iron and designates by the term "mauvais sujets"; men who are for the most part misunderstood; whose existence may become either noble through the smile of a woman lifting them out of their rut, or shocking at the close of an orgy under the influence of some damnable reflection dropped by a drunken comrade.
Napoleon had incorporated these vigorous beings in the sixth of the line, hoping to metamorphose them finally into generals,--barring those whom the bullets might take off. But the emperor's calculation was scarcely fulfilled, except in the matter of the bullets. This regiment, often decimated but always the same in character, acquired a great reputation for valor in the field and for wickedness in private life. At the siege of Tarragona it lost its celebrated hero, Bianchi, the man who, during the campaign, had wagered that he would eat the heart of a Spanish sentinel, and did eat it. Though Bianchi was the prince of the devils incarnate to whom the regiment owed its dual reputation, he had, nevertheless, that sort of chivalrous honor which excuses, in the army, the worst excesses. In a word, he would have been, at an earlier period, an admirable pirate. A few days before his death he distinguished himself by a daring action which the marechal wished to reward. Bianchi refused rank, pension, and additional decoration, asking, for sole recompense, the favor of being the first to mount the breach at the assault on Tarragona. The marechal granted the request and then forgot his promise; but Bianchi forced him to remember Bianchi. The enraged hero was the first to plant our flag on the wall, where he was shot by a monk.
This period of pillage (it is difficult to determine how long it lasted) had, like all other sublunary effects, a cause, not so difficult to discover. In the marechal's army was a regiment, composed almost entirely of Italians and commanded by a certain Colonel Eugene, a man of remarkable bravery, a second Murat, who, having entered the military service too late, obtained neither a Grand Duchy of Berg nor a Kingdom of Naples, nor balls at the Pizzo. But if he won no crown he had ample opportunity to obtain wounds, and it was not surprising that he met with several. His regiment was composed of the scattered fragments of the Italian legion. This legion was to Italy what the colonial battalions are to France. Its permanent cantonments, established on the island of Elba, served as an honorable place of exile for the troublesome sons of good families and for those great men who have just missed greatness, whom society brands with a hot iron and designates by the term "mauvais sujets"; men who are for the most part misunderstood; whose existence may become either noble through the smile of a woman lifting them out of their rut, or shocking at the close of an orgy under the influence of some damnable reflection dropped by a drunken comrade.
Napoleon had incorporated these vigorous beings in the sixth of the line, hoping to metamorphose them finally into generals,--barring those whom the bullets might take off. But the emperor's calculation was scarcely fulfilled, except in the matter of the bullets. This regiment, often decimated but always the same in character, acquired a great reputation for valor in the field and for wickedness in private life. At the siege of Tarragona it lost its celebrated hero, Bianchi, the man who, during the campaign, had wagered that he would eat the heart of a Spanish sentinel, and did eat it. Though Bianchi was the prince of the devils incarnate to whom the regiment owed its dual reputation, he had, nevertheless, that sort of chivalrous honor which excuses, in the army, the worst excesses. In a word, he would have been, at an earlier period, an admirable pirate. A few days before his death he distinguished himself by a daring action which the marechal wished to reward. Bianchi refused rank, pension, and additional decoration, asking, for sole recompense, the favor of being the first to mount the breach at the assault on Tarragona. The marechal granted the request and then forgot his promise; but Bianchi forced him to remember Bianchi. The enraged hero was the first to plant our flag on the wall, where he was shot by a monk.
90 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1833
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About the author
Honoré de Balzac
9,676 books4,453 followersFrench writer Honoré de Balzac (born Honoré Balzac), a founder of the realist school of fiction, portrayed the panorama of society in a body of works, known collectively as
La comédie humaine
.
Honoré de Balzac authored 19th-century novels and plays. After the fall of Napoléon in 1815, his magnum opus, a sequence of almost a hundred novels and plays, entitled, presents life in the years.
Due to keen observation of fine detail and unfiltered representation, European literature regards Balzac. He features renowned multifaceted, even complex, morally ambiguous, full lesser characters. Character well imbues inanimate objects; the city of Paris, a backdrop, takes on many qualities. He influenced many famous authors, including the novelists Marcel Proust, Émile Zola, Charles John Huffam Dickens, Gustave Flaubert, Henry James, and Jack Kerouac as well as important philosophers, such as Friedrich Engels. Many works of Balzac, made into films, continue to inspire.
An enthusiastic reader and independent thinker as a child, Balzac adapted with trouble to the teaching style of his grammar. His willful nature caused trouble throughout his life and frustrated his ambitions to succeed in the world of business. Balzac finished, and people then apprenticed him as a legal clerk, but after wearying of banal routine, he turned his back on law. He attempted a publisher, printer, businessman, critic, and politician before and during his career. He failed in these efforts From his own experience, he reflects life difficulties and includes scenes.
Possibly due to his intense schedule and from health problems, Balzac suffered throughout his life. Financial and personal drama often strained his relationship with his family, and he lost more than one friend over critical reviews. In 1850, he married Ewelina Hańska, his longtime paramour; five months later, he passed away.
Honoré de Balzac authored 19th-century novels and plays. After the fall of Napoléon in 1815, his magnum opus, a sequence of almost a hundred novels and plays, entitled, presents life in the years.
Due to keen observation of fine detail and unfiltered representation, European literature regards Balzac. He features renowned multifaceted, even complex, morally ambiguous, full lesser characters. Character well imbues inanimate objects; the city of Paris, a backdrop, takes on many qualities. He influenced many famous authors, including the novelists Marcel Proust, Émile Zola, Charles John Huffam Dickens, Gustave Flaubert, Henry James, and Jack Kerouac as well as important philosophers, such as Friedrich Engels. Many works of Balzac, made into films, continue to inspire.
An enthusiastic reader and independent thinker as a child, Balzac adapted with trouble to the teaching style of his grammar. His willful nature caused trouble throughout his life and frustrated his ambitions to succeed in the world of business. Balzac finished, and people then apprenticed him as a legal clerk, but after wearying of banal routine, he turned his back on law. He attempted a publisher, printer, businessman, critic, and politician before and during his career. He failed in these efforts From his own experience, he reflects life difficulties and includes scenes.
Possibly due to his intense schedule and from health problems, Balzac suffered throughout his life. Financial and personal drama often strained his relationship with his family, and he lost more than one friend over critical reviews. In 1850, he married Ewelina Hańska, his longtime paramour; five months later, he passed away.
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Displaying 1 - 10 of 10 reviews
July 10, 2020
This is either a long short story or a short novella from his Philosophical Studies. Balzac breaks it into Three Chapters: Exposition, Auction, The History of Madam Diard. At the end of the second chapter, he tells us "The foregoing rapid narrative is not the principal subject of this Study, for the understanding of which it was necessary to explain how it happened that ." I know, I try very hard not to put spoilers in my review, but stating the preface of the first two parts seemed reasonable, so I have put the rest behind the spoiler tag.
I have not warmed to the few others in his Philosophical Studies, but this was very good. After what seemed a slow beginning, the pace picked up. For Balzac, it's a page turner. I have to qualify "page turner" as even when I'm really interested in what he writes, I hardly ever think I can't get to the next page soon enough. As I read Balzac on my Kindle, all of which are unpaged, I don't know exactly when I wanted to know everything, but it must have been about the last 15-20 pages, certainly no more. But, oh my, those pages were some of the best Balzac I have read. Only because this is so short, it is a mere 4-stars, and I might be shaving a star at that.
I have not warmed to the few others in his Philosophical Studies, but this was very good. After what seemed a slow beginning, the pace picked up. For Balzac, it's a page turner. I have to qualify "page turner" as even when I'm really interested in what he writes, I hardly ever think I can't get to the next page soon enough. As I read Balzac on my Kindle, all of which are unpaged, I don't know exactly when I wanted to know everything, but it must have been about the last 15-20 pages, certainly no more. But, oh my, those pages were some of the best Balzac I have read. Only because this is so short, it is a mere 4-stars, and I might be shaving a star at that.
March 12, 2023
Eigentlich dreieinhalb, die zweite Hälfte fällt doch deutlich gegenüber dem starken Auftakt ab. Aber die Schlusspointe stimmt, also vier Sterne.
Die Maranas sind so etwas wie erblicher Luxusnutten-Adel, seit dem späten Mittelalter folgte eine Generation auf die nächste. Als die aktuelle Mama Marana ein Mädchen von einem prominenten Erzeuger bekommt, während in Frankreich die Revolution tobt, beschließt sie den Kreislauf zu durchbrechen und bringt ihre Tochter bei einem streng gläubigen, aber kinderlosen Kaufmannspaar in Taragona unter.
Doch dann bringt Napoleons Spanien-Feldzug alles durcheinander, die mittlerweile 18jährige Juana wird zwar versteckt, aber die Einquartierung ist ein schmuckes Exemplar Mailänder Hochadel, das Mädchen langweilt sich im Versteck zu Tode und lässt die Tarnung auffliegen.
Der Gast Montefiore ist ein erfahrener Roué, lässt sich Zeit und braucht auch etwas Geduld, doch als die Frucht reif scheint, funkt die Mutter dazwischen, die in zehn Tage mit der Kutsche von aktuellen Wirkungskreis Neapel nach Tarragona gefahren ist und dem auf frischer Tat ertappten Verführer die Wahl zwischen Tod und Heirat lässt.
Da Montefiore sich in allerlei Widersprüche verwickelt hat, will Juana den, gerade noch heiß geliebten, Schwindler nicht mehr. Der hat indessen um Hilfe gerufen, die Wache kommt und damit eine Option, die von der Mutter genutzt wird, ohne die Tochter darüber zu befragen, ob ihr der Stellvertreter passt.
Der Rest wird nicht verraten, denn es gibt es ein brillantes Finale, das schon eine andere Rezi gespoilert hat. Allerdings ist die Schilderung der Ehe von zwei überhaupt nicht aufeinander vorbereiteten Charakteren, nicht so brillant wie Einleitung und Finale.
Ein paar Wendungen Balzacs bei der Schilderung der Familientraditionen der Luxuskurtisanen haben die Empfindlichkeiten aktueller Leser verletzt und ein paar Ein-Sterne-Rezis provoziert, aber die moralischen Vorurteile und die Geschwätzigkeit eines Charles Dickens sind für mich deutlich schwerer auszuhalten, zumal der Oberviktorianer seinen gefallenen Mädchen keinen anderen Ausweg lässt, als sich unter der Fuchtel eines monomanischen Onkels in lauter Tugend aufzureiben, siehe Emily in David Copperfield.
Die Maranas sind so etwas wie erblicher Luxusnutten-Adel, seit dem späten Mittelalter folgte eine Generation auf die nächste. Als die aktuelle Mama Marana ein Mädchen von einem prominenten Erzeuger bekommt, während in Frankreich die Revolution tobt, beschließt sie den Kreislauf zu durchbrechen und bringt ihre Tochter bei einem streng gläubigen, aber kinderlosen Kaufmannspaar in Taragona unter.
Doch dann bringt Napoleons Spanien-Feldzug alles durcheinander, die mittlerweile 18jährige Juana wird zwar versteckt, aber die Einquartierung ist ein schmuckes Exemplar Mailänder Hochadel, das Mädchen langweilt sich im Versteck zu Tode und lässt die Tarnung auffliegen.
Der Gast Montefiore ist ein erfahrener Roué, lässt sich Zeit und braucht auch etwas Geduld, doch als die Frucht reif scheint, funkt die Mutter dazwischen, die in zehn Tage mit der Kutsche von aktuellen Wirkungskreis Neapel nach Tarragona gefahren ist und dem auf frischer Tat ertappten Verführer die Wahl zwischen Tod und Heirat lässt.
Da Montefiore sich in allerlei Widersprüche verwickelt hat, will Juana den, gerade noch heiß geliebten, Schwindler nicht mehr. Der hat indessen um Hilfe gerufen, die Wache kommt und damit eine Option, die von der Mutter genutzt wird, ohne die Tochter darüber zu befragen, ob ihr der Stellvertreter passt.
Der Rest wird nicht verraten, denn es gibt es ein brillantes Finale, das schon eine andere Rezi gespoilert hat. Allerdings ist die Schilderung der Ehe von zwei überhaupt nicht aufeinander vorbereiteten Charakteren, nicht so brillant wie Einleitung und Finale.
Ein paar Wendungen Balzacs bei der Schilderung der Familientraditionen der Luxuskurtisanen haben die Empfindlichkeiten aktueller Leser verletzt und ein paar Ein-Sterne-Rezis provoziert, aber die moralischen Vorurteile und die Geschwätzigkeit eines Charles Dickens sind für mich deutlich schwerer auszuhalten, zumal der Oberviktorianer seinen gefallenen Mädchen keinen anderen Ausweg lässt, als sich unter der Fuchtel eines monomanischen Onkels in lauter Tugend aufzureiben, siehe Emily in David Copperfield.
March 12, 2023
This is one of those stories that brings out the worst in Balzac, all his little prejudices on show for us to see.
The first part of his story gives us the backstory on how the lovely Jauna comes to be married to a dolt like Diard. He and his brother-in-arms Montefiori are the dregs of Napoleon's army, Italians tagging along in the rear but always the first in any town where some raping and pillaging is to be done. Montefiori is of noble background and he's mainly after a 'bit of skirt' while Diard is after valuable art works to improve his position in life. Montefiori spies the lovely Juana when they enter Tarragona and he is so attracted to her that he decides to go about her seduction with a bit of subtlety instead of his usual behaviour.
He gets himself billeted with the family, only to discover that Juana has been hidden away to protect her virtue. This is because her mother, La Marana, comes from a long line of disreputable courtesans (going back to the 13th century) and she has decided that her daughter is going to be protected from vice. So the good man Perez gets paid a handsome sum of money to bring her up as a virtuous young lady and hopefully to marry well.
Alas, it happens that Juana and Moentefiori spy each other, and that genetic predisposition and her passionate Spanish blood will out. (Balzac cannot help himself when it comes to stereotyping Italians and Spaniards, it seems, and he is firmly convinced that vice is inherited, not just passed down through a family environment but something to which successive generations are doomed. ) An innocent she may be but Juana has a glint in her eye and the two of them wangle a way to get together in the middle of the night. La Marana, however, has heard that Napoleon's troops are in town and she comes storming home to make sure that Juana is safe, and of course she's not best-pleased when she finds out what's going on.
Montefiori could get out of the trouble he's in by marrying Juana except that he's lied to Perez about being married (to reassure Perez that he's no threat to Juana) and to Juana he has said that he's not so that she thinks he will marry her. (The plan of course was to seduce, cut and run, but La Marana has put paid to that. She (like every proud Spanish mother?) is ready with a dagger to make him Do the Right Thing but Juana won't have him as soon as she realises the lies he's told her; and in a fit of pique she ends up with Diard.
Part 2 traces the decline of this marriage. Ar first Daird loves Juana but (as seems perfectly reasonable to me) he gets tired of everybody sneering at him for not being good enough even though he's got heaps of money from the paintings. She sulks into being a virtuous wife and mother but doesn't talk to him. Diard takes up gambling again and one day has to flee to escape his creditors. In Bordeaux he wins well and makes money but Lo! He bumps into Montefiori and Montefiori wins it from him. Diard lures him back to a quiet spot and kills him, then flees back to Juana with the whole town in pursuit. He begs her for help but she calmly shoots him instead.
So what happens to her, you might ask? Ah, she has so charmed the doctor that he, on his own initiative, says that Diard has killed himself by his own hand, and since she tells them where he's hidden his money they let her go.
She meets her dying mother en route back to Spain, and sets her mind at rest about the future by saying 'Mother, die in peace; I have suffered for you all.
The irony (and I'm not sure if Balzac saw this himself) is that if his theory of inherited vice holds true, then Juana's boys are doomed to be dissolute ratbags too!
The first part of his story gives us the backstory on how the lovely Jauna comes to be married to a dolt like Diard. He and his brother-in-arms Montefiori are the dregs of Napoleon's army, Italians tagging along in the rear but always the first in any town where some raping and pillaging is to be done. Montefiori is of noble background and he's mainly after a 'bit of skirt' while Diard is after valuable art works to improve his position in life. Montefiori spies the lovely Juana when they enter Tarragona and he is so attracted to her that he decides to go about her seduction with a bit of subtlety instead of his usual behaviour.
He gets himself billeted with the family, only to discover that Juana has been hidden away to protect her virtue. This is because her mother, La Marana, comes from a long line of disreputable courtesans (going back to the 13th century) and she has decided that her daughter is going to be protected from vice. So the good man Perez gets paid a handsome sum of money to bring her up as a virtuous young lady and hopefully to marry well.
Alas, it happens that Juana and Moentefiori spy each other, and that genetic predisposition and her passionate Spanish blood will out. (Balzac cannot help himself when it comes to stereotyping Italians and Spaniards, it seems, and he is firmly convinced that vice is inherited, not just passed down through a family environment but something to which successive generations are doomed. ) An innocent she may be but Juana has a glint in her eye and the two of them wangle a way to get together in the middle of the night. La Marana, however, has heard that Napoleon's troops are in town and she comes storming home to make sure that Juana is safe, and of course she's not best-pleased when she finds out what's going on.
Montefiori could get out of the trouble he's in by marrying Juana except that he's lied to Perez about being married (to reassure Perez that he's no threat to Juana) and to Juana he has said that he's not so that she thinks he will marry her. (The plan of course was to seduce, cut and run, but La Marana has put paid to that. She (like every proud Spanish mother?) is ready with a dagger to make him Do the Right Thing but Juana won't have him as soon as she realises the lies he's told her; and in a fit of pique she ends up with Diard.
Part 2 traces the decline of this marriage. Ar first Daird loves Juana but (as seems perfectly reasonable to me) he gets tired of everybody sneering at him for not being good enough even though he's got heaps of money from the paintings. She sulks into being a virtuous wife and mother but doesn't talk to him. Diard takes up gambling again and one day has to flee to escape his creditors. In Bordeaux he wins well and makes money but Lo! He bumps into Montefiori and Montefiori wins it from him. Diard lures him back to a quiet spot and kills him, then flees back to Juana with the whole town in pursuit. He begs her for help but she calmly shoots him instead.
So what happens to her, you might ask? Ah, she has so charmed the doctor that he, on his own initiative, says that Diard has killed himself by his own hand, and since she tells them where he's hidden his money they let her go.
She meets her dying mother en route back to Spain, and sets her mind at rest about the future by saying 'Mother, die in peace; I have suffered for you all.
The irony (and I'm not sure if Balzac saw this himself) is that if his theory of inherited vice holds true, then Juana's boys are doomed to be dissolute ratbags too!
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
April 9, 2022
Balzac's "Juana" is a short story about a history of strong ancestral passions especially the female line which end in a courstean life and a mother's love wanting to have a child that reaches heaven. All these characters seem to be new to the Human Comedy. I enjoyed this tragic story.
The below quote mentions Juana and Diard;
"Lilly of the Valley"
"What strange, relentless power is it that perpetually awards an angel to a madman; to a man of heart, of true poetic passion, a base woman; to the petty, grandeur; to this demented brain, a beautiful, sublime being; to Juana, Captain Diard, whose history at Bordeaux I have told you; to Madame de Beauseant, an Ajuda; to Madame d’Aiglemont, her husband; to the Marquis d’Espard, his wife! Long have I sought the meaning of this enigma."
Juana Les Marana
I did not read this edition but from a Delphi collection of his works which included the synopsis below.
"LES MARANA IS an 1834 novella, set during the time of the Peninsular War, when France was fighting in Spain. The narrative introduces Marshal Suchet, who commands a division in Taragona, a coastal town on the northeast coast of Spain. The town has been taken and pillaged by Colonel Eugune’s regiment, which is made up of well born, but misfit Italians."
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NOTWITHSTANDING THE DISCIPLINE which Marechal Suchet had introduced into his army corps, he was unable to prevent a short period of trouble and disorder at the taking of Tarragona. According to certain fair- minded military men, this intoxication of victory bore a striking resemblance to pillage, though the marechal promptly suppressed it. Order being re-established, each
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regiment quartered in its respective lines, and the commandant of the city appointed, military administration began. The place assumed a mongrel aspect. Though all things were organized on a French system, the Spaniards were left free to follow “in petto” their national tastes.
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Napoleon had incorporated these vigorous beings in the sixth of the line, hoping to metamorphose them finally into generals, — barring those whom the bullets might take off. But the emperor’s calculation was scarcely fulfilled, except in the matter of the bullets. This regiment, often decimated but always the same in character, acquired a great reputation for valor in the field and for wickedness in private life.
❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌spoiler alert❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌
Montefiore is indeed a rake and even when Diard had killed him not because of his wife but because of his want of money, having lost his wife's dot, he killed his old friend and stole. Diard tells his wife and all she can think of is her children, what will become of her children with a father sent to prison, so when he cannot escape which she would have allowed, she offers him escape by a bullet which he refuses, so she does him in.
So it comes around for Montefiore ruining her in the beginning to her disastrous marriage but finding motherhood saved her. I had thought that after she married she would have had affairs but I was happy to see, she lived all for her two boys. This surprised me. The religious upbringing saved her though she fell at first. I loved Marana and Juana, wanting better for their children and when Juana had loved one son better she never let the other son neglected of affection. Both Montefiore and Diard both unbelievable selfish, the former more than the latter.
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The fortune he possessed made him cautious. He was nicknamed, for two reasons, “captain of crows.” In the first place, he could smell powder a league off, and took wing at the sound of a musket; secondly, the nickname was based on an innocent military pun, which his position in the regiment warranted. Captain Montefiore, of the illustrious Montefiore family of Milan (though the laws of the Kingdom of
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Italy forbade him to bear his title in the French service) was one of the handsomest men in the army. This beauty may have been among the secret causes of his prudence on fighting days. A wound which might have injured his nose, cleft his forehead, or scarred his cheek, would have destroyed one of the most beautiful Italian faces which a woman ever dreamed of in all its delicate proportions.
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The Marquis de Montefiore possessed an entailed property, but his income was mortgaged for a number of years to pay off the costs of certain Italian escapades which are inconceivable in Paris. He had ruined himself in supporting a theatre at Milan in order to force upon a public a very inferior prima donna, whom he was said to love madly.
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By that time, he reflected, he should come into his property of a hundred thousand scudi a year, some journal would speak of him as “the brave Montefiore,” he would marry a girl of rank, and no one would dare to dispute his courage or verify his wounds.
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Both regarded the war in its results, not its action; they simply considered those who died for glory fools. Chance had made soldiers of them; whereas their natural proclivities would have seated them at the green table of a congress.
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Montefiore and Diard were among the last to mount the breach at Tarragona, but the first in the heart of the town as soon as it was taken. Accidents of this sort happen in all attacks, but with this pair of friends they were customary. Supporting each other, they made their
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way bravely through a labyrinth of narrow and gloomy little streets in quest of their personal objects; one seeking for painted madonnas, the other for madonnas of flesh and blood.
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Montefiore forgot the pillage, and heard, for the moment, neither the cries, nor the musketry, nor the growling of the artillery. The profile of that Spanish girl was the most divinely delicious thing which he, an Italian libertine, weary of Italian beauty, and dreaming of an impossible woman because he was tired of all women, had ever seen. He could
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still quiver, he, who had wasted his fortune on a thousand follies, the thousand passions of a young and blase man — the most abominable monster that society generates.
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Montefiore gave himself out as a former Spanish subject, persecuted by Napoleon, whom he was serving against his will; and these semi-lies had the success he expected. He was invited to share the meals of the family, and was treated with the respect due to his name, his birth, and his title. He had his reasons for capturing the good- will of the merchant and his wife;
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But in spite of the confidence he managed to inspire in the worthy pair the latter maintained the most profound silence as to the said madonna; and not only did the
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captain see no trace of the young girl during the first day he spent under the roof of the honest Spaniard, but he heard no sound and came upon no indication which revealed her presence in that ancient building. Supposing that she was the only daughter of the old couple, Montefiore concluded they had consigned her to the garret, where, for the time being, they made their home. But no revelation came to betray the hiding-place of that precious treasure.
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“No; if she were my daughter I should take less precautions. The child is confided to our care, and I would rather die than see any evil happen to her. But how is it possible to put sense into a girl of eighteen?”
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Montefiore no longer felt worn and jaded. That young girl brought back his youthful freshness.
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“You do right to hide her,” said Montefiore in Italian. “I will keep your secret. The devil! we have generals in our army who are capable of abducting her.”
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At the period when the French Revolution changed the manners and morals of every country which served as the scene of its wars, a street prostitute came to Tarragona, driven from Venice at the time of its fall.
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Cast, in her poverty, into the hands of some poor gambling officer, she attached herself to him as a dog to its master, sharing the discomforts of the military life, which indeed she comforted, as content under the roof of a garret as beneath the silken hangings of opulence. Italian and Spanish both, she fulfilled very scrupulously the duties of religion, and more than once she had said to love: —
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The name of this woman was La Marana. In her family, existing solely in the female line, the idea, person, name and power of a father had been completely unknown since the thirteenth century.
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One day, a day of opulence or of penury I know not which, for this event was a secret between herself and God, but assuredly it was in a moment of repentance and melancholy, this Marana of the nineteenth century stood with her feet in the slime and her head raised to heaven. She cursed the blood in her veins, she cursed herself, she trembled lest she should have a daughter, and she swore, as such women swear, on the honor and with the will of the galleys — the firmest will, the most scrupulous honor that there is on
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earth — she swore, before an altar, and believing in that altar, to make her daughter a virtuous creature, a saint, and thus to gain, after that long line of lost women, criminals in love, an angel in heaven for them all.
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It was from that weak man, that senseless marriage unblessed by God or man which happiness is thought to justify, but which no happiness absolves, and for which men blush at last, that she had a daughter, a daughter to save, a daughter for whom to desire a noble life and the chastity she had not. Henceforth, happy or not happy, opulent or beggared, she had in her heart a pure, untainted sentiment, the highest of all human feelings because the most disinterested. Love has its egotism, but motherhood has none. La Marana was a mother like none other; for, in her total, her eternal shipwreck, motherhood might still redeem her. To accomplish sacredly through life the task of sending a pure soul to heaven, was not that a better thing than a tardy repentance?
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So, when this daughter, when her Marie-Juana-Pepita (she would fain have given her all the saints in the calendar as guardians), when this dear little creature was granted to her, she became possessed of so high an idea of the dignity of motherhood that she entreated vice to grant her a respite. She made herself virtuous and lived in solitude. No more fetes, no more orgies, no more love.
The below quote mentions Juana and Diard;
"Lilly of the Valley"
"What strange, relentless power is it that perpetually awards an angel to a madman; to a man of heart, of true poetic passion, a base woman; to the petty, grandeur; to this demented brain, a beautiful, sublime being; to Juana, Captain Diard, whose history at Bordeaux I have told you; to Madame de Beauseant, an Ajuda; to Madame d’Aiglemont, her husband; to the Marquis d’Espard, his wife! Long have I sought the meaning of this enigma."
Juana Les Marana
I did not read this edition but from a Delphi collection of his works which included the synopsis below.
"LES MARANA IS an 1834 novella, set during the time of the Peninsular War, when France was fighting in Spain. The narrative introduces Marshal Suchet, who commands a division in Taragona, a coastal town on the northeast coast of Spain. The town has been taken and pillaged by Colonel Eugune’s regiment, which is made up of well born, but misfit Italians."
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NOTWITHSTANDING THE DISCIPLINE which Marechal Suchet had introduced into his army corps, he was unable to prevent a short period of trouble and disorder at the taking of Tarragona. According to certain fair- minded military men, this intoxication of victory bore a striking resemblance to pillage, though the marechal promptly suppressed it. Order being re-established, each
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regiment quartered in its respective lines, and the commandant of the city appointed, military administration began. The place assumed a mongrel aspect. Though all things were organized on a French system, the Spaniards were left free to follow “in petto” their national tastes.
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Napoleon had incorporated these vigorous beings in the sixth of the line, hoping to metamorphose them finally into generals, — barring those whom the bullets might take off. But the emperor’s calculation was scarcely fulfilled, except in the matter of the bullets. This regiment, often decimated but always the same in character, acquired a great reputation for valor in the field and for wickedness in private life.
❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌spoiler alert❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌
Montefiore is indeed a rake and even when Diard had killed him not because of his wife but because of his want of money, having lost his wife's dot, he killed his old friend and stole. Diard tells his wife and all she can think of is her children, what will become of her children with a father sent to prison, so when he cannot escape which she would have allowed, she offers him escape by a bullet which he refuses, so she does him in.
So it comes around for Montefiore ruining her in the beginning to her disastrous marriage but finding motherhood saved her. I had thought that after she married she would have had affairs but I was happy to see, she lived all for her two boys. This surprised me. The religious upbringing saved her though she fell at first. I loved Marana and Juana, wanting better for their children and when Juana had loved one son better she never let the other son neglected of affection. Both Montefiore and Diard both unbelievable selfish, the former more than the latter.
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The fortune he possessed made him cautious. He was nicknamed, for two reasons, “captain of crows.” In the first place, he could smell powder a league off, and took wing at the sound of a musket; secondly, the nickname was based on an innocent military pun, which his position in the regiment warranted. Captain Montefiore, of the illustrious Montefiore family of Milan (though the laws of the Kingdom of
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Italy forbade him to bear his title in the French service) was one of the handsomest men in the army. This beauty may have been among the secret causes of his prudence on fighting days. A wound which might have injured his nose, cleft his forehead, or scarred his cheek, would have destroyed one of the most beautiful Italian faces which a woman ever dreamed of in all its delicate proportions.
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The Marquis de Montefiore possessed an entailed property, but his income was mortgaged for a number of years to pay off the costs of certain Italian escapades which are inconceivable in Paris. He had ruined himself in supporting a theatre at Milan in order to force upon a public a very inferior prima donna, whom he was said to love madly.
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By that time, he reflected, he should come into his property of a hundred thousand scudi a year, some journal would speak of him as “the brave Montefiore,” he would marry a girl of rank, and no one would dare to dispute his courage or verify his wounds.
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Both regarded the war in its results, not its action; they simply considered those who died for glory fools. Chance had made soldiers of them; whereas their natural proclivities would have seated them at the green table of a congress.
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Montefiore and Diard were among the last to mount the breach at Tarragona, but the first in the heart of the town as soon as it was taken. Accidents of this sort happen in all attacks, but with this pair of friends they were customary. Supporting each other, they made their
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way bravely through a labyrinth of narrow and gloomy little streets in quest of their personal objects; one seeking for painted madonnas, the other for madonnas of flesh and blood.
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Montefiore forgot the pillage, and heard, for the moment, neither the cries, nor the musketry, nor the growling of the artillery. The profile of that Spanish girl was the most divinely delicious thing which he, an Italian libertine, weary of Italian beauty, and dreaming of an impossible woman because he was tired of all women, had ever seen. He could
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still quiver, he, who had wasted his fortune on a thousand follies, the thousand passions of a young and blase man — the most abominable monster that society generates.
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Montefiore gave himself out as a former Spanish subject, persecuted by Napoleon, whom he was serving against his will; and these semi-lies had the success he expected. He was invited to share the meals of the family, and was treated with the respect due to his name, his birth, and his title. He had his reasons for capturing the good- will of the merchant and his wife;
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But in spite of the confidence he managed to inspire in the worthy pair the latter maintained the most profound silence as to the said madonna; and not only did the
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captain see no trace of the young girl during the first day he spent under the roof of the honest Spaniard, but he heard no sound and came upon no indication which revealed her presence in that ancient building. Supposing that she was the only daughter of the old couple, Montefiore concluded they had consigned her to the garret, where, for the time being, they made their home. But no revelation came to betray the hiding-place of that precious treasure.
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“No; if she were my daughter I should take less precautions. The child is confided to our care, and I would rather die than see any evil happen to her. But how is it possible to put sense into a girl of eighteen?”
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Montefiore no longer felt worn and jaded. That young girl brought back his youthful freshness.
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“You do right to hide her,” said Montefiore in Italian. “I will keep your secret. The devil! we have generals in our army who are capable of abducting her.”
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At the period when the French Revolution changed the manners and morals of every country which served as the scene of its wars, a street prostitute came to Tarragona, driven from Venice at the time of its fall.
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Cast, in her poverty, into the hands of some poor gambling officer, she attached herself to him as a dog to its master, sharing the discomforts of the military life, which indeed she comforted, as content under the roof of a garret as beneath the silken hangings of opulence. Italian and Spanish both, she fulfilled very scrupulously the duties of religion, and more than once she had said to love: —
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The name of this woman was La Marana. In her family, existing solely in the female line, the idea, person, name and power of a father had been completely unknown since the thirteenth century.
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One day, a day of opulence or of penury I know not which, for this event was a secret between herself and God, but assuredly it was in a moment of repentance and melancholy, this Marana of the nineteenth century stood with her feet in the slime and her head raised to heaven. She cursed the blood in her veins, she cursed herself, she trembled lest she should have a daughter, and she swore, as such women swear, on the honor and with the will of the galleys — the firmest will, the most scrupulous honor that there is on
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earth — she swore, before an altar, and believing in that altar, to make her daughter a virtuous creature, a saint, and thus to gain, after that long line of lost women, criminals in love, an angel in heaven for them all.
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 177047
It was from that weak man, that senseless marriage unblessed by God or man which happiness is thought to justify, but which no happiness absolves, and for which men blush at last, that she had a daughter, a daughter to save, a daughter for whom to desire a noble life and the chastity she had not. Henceforth, happy or not happy, opulent or beggared, she had in her heart a pure, untainted sentiment, the highest of all human feelings because the most disinterested. Love has its egotism, but motherhood has none. La Marana was a mother like none other; for, in her total, her eternal shipwreck, motherhood might still redeem her. To accomplish sacredly through life the task of sending a pure soul to heaven, was not that a better thing than a tardy repentance?
Highlight (Yellow) | Location 177053
So, when this daughter, when her Marie-Juana-Pepita (she would fain have given her all the saints in the calendar as guardians), when this dear little creature was granted to her, she became possessed of so high an idea of the dignity of motherhood that she entreated vice to grant her a respite. She made herself virtuous and lived in solitude. No more fetes, no more orgies, no more love.
August 9, 2021
Montefiore, an Italian soldier in the French unit that has captured Tarragona, sees a beautiful Spanish girl in a draper’s house. He gets himself billeted in the draper, Perez de Lagounia’s house. Soon he discovers that the girl is Juana, who has a long ancestry of prostitutes. Determined to protect her daughter from the same vice, La Marana, sent her to live with the pious Lagounias, though La Marana appears by motherly instinct when her daughter is in danger. The Lagounias keep Juana hidden in a secret room, but Montefiore finds her and starts a nightly affair with her, and proposes marriage to her, while not intending to fulfil his promise. Matters climax when La Marana arrives and Montefiore is discovered in Juana’s room. His deception is revealed. At knifepoint, Montefiore calls for help from his friend Diard. Diard arrives and, in a twist of events, La Marana hastily gives Juana in marriage to him. This is the end of the second chapter, and the narrator tells us it is the prelude to the main story. Diard and Juana have an unhappy marriage. Diard is wounded and leaves the army. He grows wealthy and holds balls and events, but he lacks the social graces to gain respect. Juana tries to love him but she never fully can, and disguises it with submission. Her older son, Juan, is hinted to be Montefiore’s child, and Juana loves him more than her second son, Francisque. Disrespected at home and in the world, Diard falls into his old gambling habits. One day, he brings the family to Bordeaux where there is a gathering of gamblers. He meets Montefiore and loses a large sum of money to him. He kills Montefiore. A crowd gathers to arrest him. Frantic, he runs home and asks Juana to help him. She tells him she will save him, then shoots and kills him. The examining doctor spares her by declaring that Diard committed suicide. Juana sells her last possession, returns to Spain with her children, and in the final scene runs across her dying mother to whom she says “Mother, die in peace; I have suffered for you all.”
Typical of Balzac, this novella is melodramatic, over-sentimental and contains uncanny coincidences. It won’t appeal to everybody, but I personally enjoy the way Balzac combines historical circumstances and cultural elements from his day into stories like these that focus on individuals and relationships between people.
The people in the story are almost caricatural. La Marana is a courtesan with the blood of passion in her veins, rising to heights with kings and contentedly falling to depths the next day, and a self-sacrificial mother who does all she can to protect her daughter from the fate that befalls all the Maranas, even if it means that her daughter does not know who she is until it is absolutely necessary. Juana by nature has the same fiery blood, but is nurtured to be pious and chaste, and in her adulthood devotes herself to her children while submitting herself to a husband she did not choose, cannot love, and cannot respect. Montefiore and Diard are scoundrels, Montefiore handsome and of a noble background who never has to work hard to get what he wants, while Diard buys and steals art works and never attains the societal position he desires. Balzac aims for us to sympathise with the Maranas, illustrating that it is their natural passion and not their will that leads to their downfall.
The first half of the third chapter dragged, with its long exposition without much illustration of the marital relations between Diard and Juana. Otherwise the start and end of the story were fairly action-packed and engaging.
Typical of Balzac, this novella is melodramatic, over-sentimental and contains uncanny coincidences. It won’t appeal to everybody, but I personally enjoy the way Balzac combines historical circumstances and cultural elements from his day into stories like these that focus on individuals and relationships between people.
The people in the story are almost caricatural. La Marana is a courtesan with the blood of passion in her veins, rising to heights with kings and contentedly falling to depths the next day, and a self-sacrificial mother who does all she can to protect her daughter from the fate that befalls all the Maranas, even if it means that her daughter does not know who she is until it is absolutely necessary. Juana by nature has the same fiery blood, but is nurtured to be pious and chaste, and in her adulthood devotes herself to her children while submitting herself to a husband she did not choose, cannot love, and cannot respect. Montefiore and Diard are scoundrels, Montefiore handsome and of a noble background who never has to work hard to get what he wants, while Diard buys and steals art works and never attains the societal position he desires. Balzac aims for us to sympathise with the Maranas, illustrating that it is their natural passion and not their will that leads to their downfall.
The first half of the third chapter dragged, with its long exposition without much illustration of the marital relations between Diard and Juana. Otherwise the start and end of the story were fairly action-packed and engaging.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
July 2, 2022
Balzac is a 5-star author. If one was only going to read a sampling of his works, ‘Juana’ would be an excellent choice, four stars.
Juana is the illegitimate daughter of a very beautiful Italian courtesan who placed her with a respectable Spanish family. This is a story of the next 25 years of her life.
Juana is the illegitimate daughter of a very beautiful Italian courtesan who placed her with a respectable Spanish family. This is a story of the next 25 years of her life.
October 4, 2019
An excellent short novella with love, drama and a final twist.
April 25, 2020
I enjoyed this more than I should have done given that it's melodramatic tripe with stereotyped women and more coincidence even than Wilkie Collins.
December 11, 2025
3 stars - A novella in three sections, with each section rich in Balzacian characterization and detail, but the story is much less than the sum of its parts.
February 11, 2021
(The Human Comedy #07/98)
This novella has all that's great and all that's awful about Balzac. What's great is his wordplay - his use of language (judging from an English translation, of course) is superb and there are turns of phrase and descriptions that are beautiful and perfect. What's bad is his inability to construct a story that moves forward, his poor conception of character and his emphasis on genetics and birthplace as being the almost sole reasons for behaviour and character.
In this short novella, the French army have taken a Spanish town and a notorious philanderer (Montefiore) wheedles his way into a household in order to seduce their 18 year old daughter - the daughter is the latest in a long line of high-class prostitutes who have gained almost mythical status and the job has passed down the mothers' line (fathers being persons unknown) with the family name of Marana. Juana's mother wanted to break this cycle and passed her daughter on to be brought up - but in Balzac's world, blood will out and she willingly goes along with Montefiore's seduction, who - when found in flagrante with Juana - is caught between his story to her father that he was happily married and his story to Juana that he was single and desperate to marry her. the Valkyric arrival of Juana's birth mother in time to marry her off to Montefiore's Quartermaster friend places Juana in a loveless marriage.
So the story begins (as so often with Balzac, he takes half the book in what is essentially a prologue) ...
The main tale is syrupy, melodramatic and overwrought - a literary equivalent of that victorian painting of the little girl crying with the collie dog keeping her company. I also didn't quite understand Balzac's maths - Juana is 18, just after the first siege of Tarragone in 1811 and yet we're told that her mother hadn't yet bore her after she left Venice *just* before it's fall (which was in 1797) which would have put Juana as very much in her mid-teens at the most. Perhaps it's a translator making her age a little more acceptable.
This novella has all that's great and all that's awful about Balzac. What's great is his wordplay - his use of language (judging from an English translation, of course) is superb and there are turns of phrase and descriptions that are beautiful and perfect. What's bad is his inability to construct a story that moves forward, his poor conception of character and his emphasis on genetics and birthplace as being the almost sole reasons for behaviour and character.
In this short novella, the French army have taken a Spanish town and a notorious philanderer (Montefiore) wheedles his way into a household in order to seduce their 18 year old daughter - the daughter is the latest in a long line of high-class prostitutes who have gained almost mythical status and the job has passed down the mothers' line (fathers being persons unknown) with the family name of Marana. Juana's mother wanted to break this cycle and passed her daughter on to be brought up - but in Balzac's world, blood will out and she willingly goes along with Montefiore's seduction, who - when found in flagrante with Juana - is caught between his story to her father that he was happily married and his story to Juana that he was single and desperate to marry her. the Valkyric arrival of Juana's birth mother in time to marry her off to Montefiore's Quartermaster friend places Juana in a loveless marriage.
So the story begins (as so often with Balzac, he takes half the book in what is essentially a prologue) ...
The main tale is syrupy, melodramatic and overwrought - a literary equivalent of that victorian painting of the little girl crying with the collie dog keeping her company. I also didn't quite understand Balzac's maths - Juana is 18, just after the first siege of Tarragone in 1811 and yet we're told that her mother hadn't yet bore her after she left Venice *just* before it's fall (which was in 1797) which would have put Juana as very much in her mid-teens at the most. Perhaps it's a translator making her age a little more acceptable.
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