Il n’y a de hasard que pour les gens extrêmement répandus

Il n’y a de hasard que pour les gens extrêmement répandus is a maxim about the social machinery behind opportunity: in Paris, chance is not evenly distributed, but tends to accrue to those already connected. Its force lies in the contrast between Lucien de Rubempré, who waits for an opening that never comes, and writers and publishers whose established relationships allow attention and success to multiply.

Meaning and First Application

The expression appears as Lucien’s solitary journalistic acquaintance stops visiting Flicoteaux. Lucien waits for an unforeseen opportunity, but the narrator observes that Parisian chance favors those with extensive connections: more acquaintances mean more prospects for success, while opportunity itself tends toward the stronger ranks. Chance is therefore not presented as pure accident. It is shaped by social reach and by the unequal access that reach provides.

Lucien still carries the provincial habit of looking ahead. Rather than wait until his remaining money is nearly gone, he decides to approach booksellers. On a cool September morning, he walks down the Rue de la Harpe with two manuscripts under his arm and continues to the booksellers along the quai des Augustins. He looks between the Seine and the shop windows, hesitating before the professional world on which he hopes to depend. The maxim frames this encounter with the literary marketplace: an unknown writer must seek entry, while those already known can expect opportunities to find them.

Reputation, Connections, and Access

The contrast becomes visible when Nathan enters a gathering of journalists. His new novel has sold rapidly, and a second edition is being printed for Dauriat. Nathan approaches the journalists with deference, then thanks Émile Blondet for a favorable article in the Journal des débats, crediting it with half the book’s success. Blondet answers that the novel has merit, but the exchange also reveals how a review and the relationships surrounding it can help convert literary work into public success. Nathan invites Blondet, Finot, and Étienne Lousteau to dinner, extending the network through which professional favor and recognition circulate.

The scene places Lucien’s isolation beside Nathan’s newly consolidated visibility. Nathan has a successful book, access to influential journalists, and the means to turn gratitude into further social contact. Lucien, by contrast, has manuscripts but no dependable contact who can carry them into the market. The expression does not deny talent; it stresses that talent alone does not create the same opportunities as a position within a network.

The Literary Market as a Feedback Loop

Dauriat makes the commercial logic explicit when he considers Lucien’s collection of sonnets. He praises the poems but refuses to buy them, reasoning that the collection cannot generate enough profit to justify the expense of manufacturing a success. He describes himself as someone who buys glory already made. In this calculation, recognition is both an outcome and a prerequisite: a work must appear promising enough to attract investment, yet the investment and publicity are among the means by which it might become successful.

The narrator later illustrates the press’s power through two sharply different outcomes. A book by Chateaubriand about the last of the Stuarts had remained a Rossignol, or unsold stock, until a young writer’s article in the Journal des débats caused it to sell out in a week. By contrast, the attacks prepared by Lucien’s friends and his own article checked sales of Nathan’s book. Nathan, already paid, mainly suffered in his pride; Dauriat, with five hundred reams of paper to sell, faced a possible loss of thirty thousand francs and came to negotiate with Lucien. The same machinery of publicity that can revive neglected stock can threaten a commercially valuable book.

Significance

Across these episodes, the maxim describes an accumulating advantage. Connections bring access to journalists; favorable attention strengthens a writer’s reputation; reputation attracts publishers and readers; and that success creates further occasions for contact. Conversely, Lucien’s lack of connections makes his wait for chance ineffective and forces him to approach booksellers directly. The press can alter a book’s commercial fate, but its influence is exercised within a world where personal access and prior recognition determine who is heard.

The expression thus gives a compact social explanation for the uneven fortunes of literary work in Paris. What appears to be a lucky break is often the visible result of relationships, publicity, and accumulated standing. Lucien’s precarious entry into the trade and Nathan’s rapid success reveal two sides of the same system: opportunity may look like chance, but it is most readily found by those already widely placed.