In this blog post, we examine how Balzac’s ‘Cousin Pons’ constructs the mechanisms of evil through the reappearance of characters and detailed depictions of money within the context of the “human drama.”

Balzac’s Grand Project and the Place of ‘Cousin Pons’

‘Cousin Pons’ (1847) is one of the last completed works among the more than 200 novels and short stories Balzac wrote over the course of his life. He always worked on multiple projects simultaneously, and many of his works remained unfinished or in the conceptual stage. Excluding the early practice pieces and short story collections he published under a pseudonym in his youth, he compiled the approximately 90 works he had written since 1829 into a collected edition titled ‘The Human Comedy’ beginning in 1843. Although his entire plan remained unfinished due to his untimely death in 1850, the collection itself already constitutes a microcosm.
The reason ‘The Human Comedy’ is read as a microcosm of the real world is not merely due to its vast volume. Thanks to Balzac’s distinctive technique of reusing characters, the major themes and social principles that run through the entire collection are consistently revealed. As the same characters appear in multiple works, readers recall their complex backstories simply by hearing their names.
For example, the judge Camusot and his wife played a pivotal role in shaping the protagonist’s fate in an early work, while Anselme Popino laid the foundation for his business as a spirited young man in another work. The past career of the theater owner Godissard had already been depicted in yet another short story. In addition, characters such as Dr. Bianchon and Minister de Marseille are diverse human archetypes borrowed by Balzac from his earlier works, and their names alone convey an immediate sense of presence to the reader.
Meanwhile, the main characters of ‘Cousin Fons’—Cousin Fons, the gatekeeper Chibodac, and the lawyer Prégier—do not appear directly in other works but naturally find their place within the world established by ‘The Human Comedy’. In that world, wealth and power supplant all other values, and opportunists and the greedy emerge victorious. Of course, the complete works also feature virtuous characters and capable individuals, but Balzac’s true genius shines most brightly when he observes the darker side of society with cold, incisive clarity.
‘Cousin Bette’ (1846) and ‘Cousin Pons’ are grouped together under the title ‘The Poor Relatives’ and are regarded as the author’s late masterpieces. Although Balzac displayed a pessimistic outlook during this period due to deteriorating health and personal disappointments, themes such as greed, betrayal, and fraud had consistently appeared in his early works. Although both works tell the stories of relatives who are ostracized because they are poor and unattractive, ‘Cousin Bette’ incorporates elements of a melodramatic revenge plot, whereas ‘Cousin Pons’ adopts a narrative style that is much more restrained and dry. Seeming to have all but abandoned society’s ethical, political, and artistic hopes, the author coldly depicts—as if it were an irresistible machine of fate—the process by which a vile and greedy crowd drives helpless elderly men to ruin and strips them of their wealth. In the novel, Fons and Schmück are surrounded by people from various social strata, trapped in a web with no way out.

The Inevitable Nature of Evil

Balzac is often classified as a realist writer in the history of Western literature. Nineteenth-century novels featured ordinary characters rooted in the historical and social realities of their time as protagonists, rather than the heroes venerated in earlier tragedies or epics. These characters confront concrete living conditions, and their personalities and fates are greatly influenced by the societies to which they belong. In ‘Cousin Pons’ as well, the fact that the exact amount of money is specified each time is a detail uncommon in earlier literature. This attention to financial details is effective in vividly revealing the characters’ circumstances and psychology.
As a result, the reader gains a vivid sense of just how financially desperate Madame Camusot, Madame Chibault, Frézie, and Poulain are—and how that desperation drives them to pounce on their prey with such ferocity. Evil in Balzac’s works is not arbitrary. There are no characters born inherently evil; there are only pawns on a chessboard who, due to personal circumstances and social factors, abandon their consciences to secure their own survival. In the preface to his collected works, he even declared that he would use French society as his historian to write a history of manners.
For this reason, Balzac meticulously describes each character’s background, current circumstances, and even their state of health and living conditions to explain their motivations. The fact that it is not until about halfway through the story that the greedy crowd begins to gather around the sickbed, marking the start of the tragedy (or terrible comedy) of the old bachelor’s death, is also a narrative device designed to weave all the threads together, one by one, leading to the conclusion. The phrase “The reason is as follows,” which recurs throughout the work, is used to emphasize that every phenomenon has a cause.
Law and justice were important concerns for Balzac, who had studied law. Through characters like the escaped convict Botran, he scathingly depicted the imperfections and corruption of the legal system, while also seeking to expose private injustices—such as betrayal, embezzlement, and subtle violence—that occur outside the realm of the law. By the conclusion, he had long since realized that while he hoped for divine retribution, reality did not provide it. Balzac, who had once hoped that social ills could be rectified through the authority of religion and the monarchy, abandoned such hopes as the bourgeoisie rose to prominence.
In this work, Balzac draws on his experience as a clerk in a notary’s office to realistically portray the legal world and inheritance procedures. Ultimately, the law degenerates into a tool in the hands of those who know it best—those in power—and tramples upon the powerless who seek its protection. At the center of the plot is the notary Présier, who uses his legal knowledge to intimidate and manipulate Sibodat, while Schmueck, who has become Fons’s heir, is driven into a corner through procedures akin to a seal, effectively forcing him to relinquish his vast fortune. All of this takes place with the blessing of Camuzo, the President of the French Supreme Court.
While Sibodet, who is in a mutually beneficial relationship with Présier and is quite resourceful himself, is not completely crushed by the law and those in power, the naive foreigner Schümeck—who has not a single friend—has no choice but to suffer their fate. Added to this are the theater owner Godissard, who harbors political ambitions; the dancer Héloïse, who wishes to pass the baton to her cousin; Magistrate Vitel, who hopes for a peaceful retirement; Madame Sobage, who covets the tobacco shop; and Madame Cantine, who has her eye on the security guard position—all these characters, driven by self-interest both great and small, contribute to the downfall of Fons and Schmück, a development that demonstrates the skill of a master storyteller.
Toward the end of the novel, Chibot’s poisoning becomes a perfect crime that slips through the net of criminal law, yet the work concludes with the irony of retribution through “divine providence.” However, in this world, there is neither actual divine retribution nor justice, nor a clear distinction between good and evil. Only puppets chasing power and money exist.

The Bourgeoisie and Art

The novel is set in 1844, at the height of the so-called July Monarchy, when Louis-Philippe I ascended the throne following the July Revolution of 1830. This government strongly served the interests of the bourgeoisie by implementing policies favorable to finance and trade and opposing universal suffrage. As illustrated by the famous anecdote in which a prime minister reportedly shouted to the people, “Become rich!”—this atmosphere is well reflected in such incidents. It had become common for those who amassed wealth through commerce to attain political office as well; a prime example is Count Popino, a former general store owner who acquired a title of nobility. The class that rose to prominence during this period had no respect for art and valued only “wealth and high social status.” Madame Camuzo, who did not even know the name of an 18th-century painter like Bato and judged works of art solely by their monetary value, is a prime example of this. Even Count Popino, who appeared to have a love for art, ultimately seemed more motivated by a desire to satisfy his vanity. The bourgeoisie, who had amassed wealth through commerce, purchased titles to elevate their social standing, imitated aristocratic culture, and sought to erase their humble origins. The collecting craze following the Revolution of 1789 is also linked to this trend.
The “black market” that supplies the antique dealers with whom Fons deals is a speculative group that seized the mansions, churches, and monasteries of nobles who had lost their owners during the revolutionary government, stripping them of their collections, decorations, and even building materials to resell. In this process, cultural artifacts became objects of speculation and established themselves as a means of accumulating material wealth. Although 19th-century collecting activities varied in scale and type, they generally served as a means of satisfying the cultural and intellectual desires of the economically rising bourgeoisie. The bourgeoisie’s collection of antiques and artworks served as a symbol of wealth and power, and at times became a target of criticism and satire. Newspaper columnists viewed the collecting craze as a sign of an era incapable of establishing its own unique culture, or criticized it as the materialism or consumer culture of a society that had lost its spiritual values. In ‘Cousin Pons’ as well, the collector is portrayed—just as in literature and newspapers—as an eccentric oddball or a vain dandy. The collecting craze is intertwined with the process by which works of art were increasingly becoming commodities in the market, as well as the phenomenon whereby exhibits—once the exclusive preserve of a select few—became accessible to the masses through the opening and reorganization of museums. Pons’s pretentious plan to donate to the Louvre, as evidenced by his fake will, reflects this trend.
Of course, Fons and Élie Maguis are aware of the monetary value of their collections and covet expensive works of art, but they also understand the essence of art and know how to truly love it. Balzac wrote that Fons deserves respect because the ability—the only quality that allows an ordinary person to become the brother of a great poet—namely, the ability to marvel at and understand art—is rare in Paris. In contrast, Madame Camuzot, Chibodac, and Présier, who compete to get their hands on Fons’s estate, do not even look at the works. Ultimately, victory goes to the bourgeoisie, who equate art with cash. The scene in which the Camuzo family inherits Fons’s estate, transfers it to Count Popino through a marriage of convenience, and uses that money to overcome financial difficulties and win a seat in the Chamber of Deputies vividly illustrates the process by which works of art are reduced to mere exchange value. The infinite value of art is transformed in the hands of the bourgeoisie into a substitute for something else—namely, exchange value.
Count Popino, who becomes the ultimate owner of Fonse’s collection, boasts that no one can rival his gallery in terms of the value and quantity of its artworks. This sinister Jewish merchant’s showroom is a place where Europe’s most valuable paintings are secretly guarded—and it is also where four of Fonse’s masterpieces are later transferred. This enigmatic figure is paradoxical. He is someone who can become completely absorbed in a painting, yet he is also the very person who amassed a vast fortune through the art trade; he is the driving force behind the commodification of art and a new power in the art market, armed with both capital and knowledge. The fraud depicted in Balzac’s short story “Pierre Grassou” illustrates this well. The incident—in which a third-rate painter named Grasse was commissioned to create paintings imitating the styles of old masters, which were then sold for huge sums to art-ignorant bourgeoisie under the pretense of being genuine—evokes the situation in the novel. The portrait of Grasse in Topinar’s home suggests that the author is recalling that story.
Bourgeois society no longer attaches much importance to the distinction between the real and the fake. They themselves are, in a sense, “counterfeits”—imitating aristocratic culture with money and buying social status and political standing with it. As money becomes the absolute yardstick for everything, the value system collapses and becomes arbitrary. In ‘Cousin Pons’, the question of whether a work of art is “authentic” is raised repeatedly, but the purpose of this discussion is less about determining artistic value and more about establishing the conditions for assigning monetary value. It is enough for something to merely appear genuine. This attitude applies equally to human relationships; a person’s value is judged by what they own and their outward appearance rather than by their inherent humanity or existence. Consequently, it is believed that “a carriage is more important to a doctor than medical knowledge,” and Madame Camusot’s plausible explanation for her breakup with Fons is accepted by everyone without any verification. The world depicted in the novel is one where some are ostracized simply for being old, ugly, and poor, while the incompetent and despicable rise to prominence through money and power. In this sense, it can be said that the 19th century ushered in an era of forgery and imitation. Nevertheless, Balzac believed that “truth” exists and that it is the writer’s duty to uncover it. Thus, he emphasizes the factuality of his narrative and appeals to the reader to trust the story’s authenticity.

Infinite Desire, Infinite Gift

The realism of ‘Cousin Pons’ stems largely from Balzac’s descriptive ability, which highlights the characters’ individuality and imbues them with a vitality that makes them seem as if they are truly alive. The description of Pons’s bizarre attire and facial features early in the story may seem visually unfamiliar to today’s Korean readers, but it effectively reveals the character’s personality and humanity, giving him a strong presence. In this way, characters such as Schmueck, Madame Camuzo, Madame Chibodat, and Prégier quickly become familiar. Even the dialect expressions—which must have posed a challenge for the translator—are an integral part of Balzac’s creative vision and lend the characters a sense of vitality.
Schmück’s naive and weak disposition is inextricably linked to his stammering speech, while Remonencq’s comical yet despicable character is embedded in his distinctive dialect. Sibodet’s habit of randomly adding “n” to her words further highlights her baseness, while Madame Camusot’s withered body and hands serve as a mirror reflecting her inner nature. Prézié’s raspy voice and reptilian appearance vividly convey his sly and venomous nature. In this way, appearance, speech, voice, and behavior express, above all else, the passions and desires that hold them captive. The reason Balzac’s characters exude such distinct charms lies in the passion each of them radiates. Madame Camusot, Sibodet, Prégier, and Remonencq are driven by different kinds of greed, while Fons and Schmück, who stand in direct opposition to them, possess no less passion.
In particular, Schümeck’s musical talent is so genius-level that it rivals that of Chopin and Liszt, and his affection for his friend is so intense that it puts even the love of a devoted woman to shame. However, the root cause of this tragic story lies in the protagonist Fons’s unbridled desires. It is no exaggeration to say that his love of art and his gluttony for fine food were the primary factors that led to his downfall.
It becomes clear that these two “peculiarities” serve as compensation for the unfulfilled sexual and emotional desires of a man who does not truly understand women—in other words, “delicious food and collecting served as substitutes for women” in his life. In particular, his love of fine dining provides Fons with the ultimate physical pleasure, driving him to the brink of addiction. Despite suffering emotional pain from his relatives’ neglect, he continues to visit them out of longing for their dining table, enduring all manner of insults in the process. Eventually, when Camusot’s daughter, Cécile, inflicted an insult that crossed the line, causing him to stop visiting, he became so ill that he was on the verge of falling sick simply because his gluttony was not being satisfied. He becomes excessively dependent—like a young child receiving care from a mother—even on the housekeeper, who cooks for him, and even on “a lump of Isigny butter.” In this way, he is perpetually in an infantile position where he must rely on others for food; from a Freudian perspective, he remains stuck in oral-stage desires. The oral stage is the first stage of psychosexual development, occurring from birth to approximately 18 months of age. It is a period during which a child discovers pleasure through the mouth—such as by suckling—and forms a strong attachment and total dependence on the figure who provides that oral pleasure, often the mother or a nanny. The characters who play the role of mothers by providing food to Fons soon reveal themselves to be tyrants who exercise tyranny and oppression at will. Ultimately, Fons and Schmück are eternal children who cannot escape the confines of motherhood, much like the children abused by their stepmothers in fairy tales.
His compulsive collecting can also be interpreted as an extension of the infantile habit of refusing to let go of an object once it is in his grasp. In this respect, he resembles the bourgeoisie, who are obsessed with the accumulation of wealth; however, in Pons’s case, his pursuit goes beyond mere quantitative accumulation or expansion and is characterized by qualitative sublimation through art. Fons resists the rational “adult” mindset of quantitative calculation and vertical ascent, seeking the value of life elsewhere. As already mentioned, he does assess the value of artworks, but not with the aim of converting his possessions into money. Rather, it is an attitude intended to emphasize their intrinsic value, which cannot be quantified in monetary terms. For example, regarding the fan painted by Bato, he states that he “did not pay even one-hundredth of its value,” and upon hearing that Schmück had sold a painting, he expresses indignation, calling them “works worth twenty times that amount.” This should be understood not as a reference to actual monetary amounts, but to mean that if their intrinsic value were to be converted into money, they could neither be bought nor sold. Works of art exist in a realm of deviation that transcends economic logic. From the perspective of capitalist efficiency and productivity, Fons and Schmück represent unproductive waste—that is, surplus. In particular, Fons’s gluttony is, in the eyes of the bourgeoisie, a purely consumptive act that yields no productive benefit; thus, he is treated like a “parasite” or a “tax.” They viewed the music he provided or the theater tickets he procured as mere ornaments to satisfy their vanity. As he grew older and became redundant, Fons’s obsession with collecting useless objects could not help but appear pathetic and ridiculous to the bourgeoisie. Madame Camuzot regarded works like Bato’s fan—which she later came to appreciate for their monetary value—as little more than scrap metal. In the scenes where Fons is mocked early in the novel, one can actually glimpse the narrator’s cynicism toward those who ridicule him.
Driven by his desire for fine dining, Fons is forced to enter a system of barter involving physical goods, but when he has nothing left to give, he calculates that by marrying Camusot’s daughter and staking his entire fortune, he can secure a lifetime of dining privileges. Just as the marriage between Cecile Camuzo and Viscount Popino demonstrates that bourgeois marriages are never based on pure love but are, at their core, commercial transactions, “poor Fons” incurs immense resentment when his marriage to Brunner falls through, leading to his complete social ostracism. The illness he contracted as a result plunges him once again into a relationship of dependence, but paradoxically, it allows him to see the world—tainted by self-interest—more clearly. He soon realizes that even the art he loved has been corrupted by the logic of money, and resolves to devote his last remaining strength to friendship—the only thing that appears to him as blind and pure. Some critics argue that by naming Schmück as his sole heir, he once again succumbed to social logic and made his friend a target of greed. It is also possible to interpret that had he donated the collection to the Royal Museum, his friend’s livelihood would have been secured and the value of the art better preserved. However, Fons transcends such calculations and seeks to give Schmück everything he possesses, whether material or immaterial. Just as Fons says, “I have given you my heart and all my love,” this act transcends individual ownership; it is an expression of love itself and, in its impossibility of quantitative measurement, is most akin to art. In response, Schmück reciprocates not simply by “possessing” what was given, but with his entire being. He plays heavenly music for Fons, responding “endlessly like a nightingale, as sublime as the sky spread out above, as colorful and lush as a forest filled with tremolos”—with his entire being—and ultimately follows Fons to the grave. Their relationship is not a simple exchange of give-and-take, but one based on a total and infinite gift.
The friendship between Fons and Schmück is easily overshadowed by the birds of prey’s various schemes and intrigues, making it seem like a secondary theme. Yet, like a small island rising from a turbulent ocean, their love and friendship—along with Topinar’s kindness—demonstrate that humans can form relationships through gratuitous gifts rather than exchange. It proves that desire does not always manifest solely in the form of greed. Georges Bataille, a 20th-century French philosopher and novelist, referred to the surplus—deemed “useless” like a festival or a gift within the efficiency- and productivity-driven order of the capitalist economy—as the “accursed share.” Though these two childless, unproductive elderly musicians are cruelly trampled upon, this space of deviance reappears in other forms at any time. This is precisely the manifestation seen in the mid-to-late 19th century, when artists and writers such as Baudelaire, Rimbaud, and Modigliani led bohemian lives in rebellion against bourgeois society. Will art and literature continue to inherit this so-called “cursed share” in the future?