Much like the relics of a saint, a
selection of objects on permanent display at the Maison de Balzac, a
jewel of a museum tucked away down a flight of steps in a pocket of time
below street level in the posh Sixteenth Arrondissement of Paris,
attest to one man’s single-minded compulsion to milk his mind and tell
the story of his moment.
Among the treasures are a set of writing instruments, including a
penknife to sharpen the nib, a gift of Balzac’s correspondent-turned
lover, and finally, wife, Madame Hańska. Another present of hers, a
distinctive cane, graces the same showcase, its turquoise encrusted knob
engraved with the coat of arms of his fictional lineage, entwined with a
necklace from her childhood. The subject of a book by another admirer,
Delphine de Girardin, La Cane de Monsieur de Balzac (The Cane of Monsieur de Balzac),
likewise on display, the cane looks so alive you can practically feel
the crush of a sweaty palm on its knob and hear it tap in time to the
rhythm of a determined stride on an imagined pavement. ... [mehr] http://lithub.com/the-ghosts-of-literary-greatness-that-forever-haunt-paris/
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