Barbey d’Aurevilly et les humeurs de la bibliothèque by Philippe Berthier (review)

In this volume, which comprises fifteen articles covering four decades of research (1970–2011), Philippe Berthier explores the tensions between Barbey d’Aurevilly’s doctrinaire criticism and its ‘humoral’ roots. The first four sections focus on the distinct ‘humours’ — ‘Aversion’, ‘Rivalité’, ‘Rachat’, ‘Élection’ — that structure Barbey’s work as a literary critic. The fifth examines his legacy among three posthumous readers: Huysmans, Proust, and Gracq. Berthier’s position as a sympathetic reader does not prevent him from highlighting the many contradictions and inconsistencies that abound in Barbey’s judgements. What many label hypocrisy is attributed here to humours, and, as Berthier points out in the Introduction, it is precisely this blatant and profoundly human partiality that still attracts readers to the bilious critic. Those expecting a monograph will be disappointed, as each article betrays in length, tone, and tenor its distinct origins. Each chapter represents an autonomous entity, covering an eclectic array of topics. While most articles focus on Barbey’s literary adjudications of his contemporaries, others touch on his personal relationships, including his ambiguous friendship with Maurice de Guérin, his rejection at the hands of George Sand, and his snubbing, in turn, of Eugénie de Guérin. Coupled with the discussion of pantheism and a short comparative study of Proust’s À la recherche du temps perdu, the general impression is that of a literary smorgasbord testifying to Berthier’s breadth of knowledge at the risk of appearing unfocused. Despite the diversity of questions addressed, however, a recurring theme emerges that gives cohesion to this concentration of forty years of research. The conviction that ‘on n’écrit jamais que soi’ (p. 146) and a frequently employed mirror motif capture Berthier’s interpretations of Barbey’s humoral reviews. Of course, financial hardship accounts, in part, for the latter’s prolific criticism. Yet beyond these practical considerations, Berthier shows how Barbey’s judgements, especially the most stubbornly polemical among them, represent an attempt to define himself against his contemporaries. If he consistently gives sympathetic readings of Stendhal, Byron, and Saint-Simon, it is because he sees a tragic aspect of himself mirrored in each of them. Similarly, his diatribes targeting Sand and Sainte-Beuve demonstrate an active attempt to construct negatively his own identity as author and critic. Evoking Voltaire’s famous quip, Berthier argues that if Sainte-Beuve had not existed, Barbey would have felt the need to invent him. This central analysis succeeds on two fronts. Firstly, while demonstrating how Barbey imagined France’s literary world in his own image, Berthier shows how that world, in turn, shaped its inventor. The caricature of the sui generis dandy is turned on its head. Secondly, he transcends the distinctions between personal vendetta and sincere ideology by explaining how, through a symbiotic relationship, both worked in tandem in Barbey’s creation of his own literary persona. While these insights will not be new to many, this volume is a great introduction to those unfamiliar with the work of Berthier, a formidable critic in his own right.