Lucien Rewrites The Archer of Charles IX on d’Arthez’s Advice

Lucien de Rubempré’s decision to rewrite The Archer of Charles IX on Daniel d'Arthez’s advice turns a manuscript criticism into a test of artistic discipline. d'Arthez does not offer general encouragement: he identifies how Lucien has imitated Walter Scott, proposes a different architecture for the novel, and connects that formal change to a larger ambition of representing French history. Lucien follows the advice, and the work begins again under the twin pressures of intellectual possibility and material want.

The Manuscript and the Diagnosis

After Lucien sets the manuscript on the mantelpiece, d'Arthez tells him that it shows promise but must be reworked. The specific flaw is structural. Like Scott, Lucien opens with extended conversations that introduce the characters, postpones description and action until afterward, and leaves dramatic conflict until the end. d'Arthez distinguishes the success of Scott’s method from its effect in Lucien’s hands: what is magnificent in the Scottish novelist becomes colorless imitation in the younger writer. The problem is not simply that Lucien has borrowed a recognizable model, but that he has copied its arrangement without making it his own.

The remedy is a reversal of sequence. d'Arthez urges Lucien to replace diffuse preliminary talk with description, to let dialogue arrive as the anticipated culmination of what has been prepared, and to enter the action at once. He also recommends varying the point from which each subject is approached—sometimes across it, sometimes from its conclusion—so the books do not repeat one plan. The advice treats form as an active source of originality: a familiar historical subject may become new through the order and angle of its telling.

A Method for French History

d'Arthez’s proposal reaches beyond this one manuscript. Lucien can adapt the dialogic form associated with Scott to French history, but should not simply reproduce Scott’s handling of character. In d'Arthez’s account, Scott’s heroines tend toward a single ideal of womanhood, shaped by the moral conventions of his society. French historical fiction, by contrast, can explore the many forms and consequences of passion. Rather than confining women to duty, a writer can show passion carrying disorder into social life and generating varied human situations.

That emphasis opens a broad historical programme. d'Arthez imagines works for the authentic reigns from Charlemagne onward, with several books possible for especially rich periods such as those of Louis XIV, Henri IV, and Francis I. The aim is not to retell familiar political events in sequence. It is to make a vivid history through costumes, furniture, houses, interiors, and private life, while conveying the spirit of each age. Correcting popular errors about kings is part of the same project: d'Arthez specifically asks Lucien to restore the figure of Catherine, whom he has sacrificed to inherited prejudice, and to portray Charles IX as he was rather than as Protestant writers have represented him. His forecast of fame and fortune depends on persistence over ten years, not on a quick success.

From Counsel to Revision

The advice is followed by a personal exchange that gives it force. At nine in the evening, Lucien invites d'Arthez to dinner at Edon and spends twelve francs. Over the meal, d'Arthez describes the studies and hopes behind his own work. He believes exceptional talent requires deep philosophical knowledge; he is absorbing the thought of ancient and modern writers and studying both books and living experience. He earns his living through conscientious, poorly paid articles for biographical, encyclopedic, and scientific dictionaries, writing only what he needs in order to live and continue his intellectual work.

d'Arthez also has an unfinished psychological novel, begun and resumed according to his inclination, which he keeps in reserve for severe need. This portrait makes his literary criticism inseparable from his example: he has undertaken extensive study, limits paid work to what sustains him, and protects the larger work from the demands of immediate income. Lucien, impressed by this combination of modesty and seriousness, leaves the restaurant at eleven with a strong affection for him. He does not dispute the criticism. He follows it, and begins refashioning the manuscript.

The narrative presents that response as an opening rather than a completed achievement. d'Arthez’s words give Lucien access to new imaginative possibilities, but the change takes the form of labor: the poet sets about remaking the work instead of claiming originality merely by aspiration. The manuscript’s revision is thus both a craft decision and the beginning of Lucien’s close attachment to a model of patient intellectual work.

Revision Under the Pressure of Poverty

By the beginning of October, Lucien has spent his remaining money on a little firewood and is without resources while working intensely on the revision. The physical detail sharpens the contrast between the scale of the project and the narrowness of his means. d'Arthez burns turf to keep warm and endures poverty with methodical restraint; Lucien, newly admitted to the Cénacle, finds it almost impossible to speak of his own distress.

Needing money, Lucien goes as far as Rue du Coq to try to sell The Archer of Charles IX to Doguereau, but does not meet him. The attempted sale shows that rewriting has not removed the immediate need to support himself, nor does the evidence establish that the revised manuscript has yet found a publisher. His artistic labor continues at the same moment that he must consider parting with the work for cash. His friends understand that he has no money and are tender toward the periods of exhaustion that follow the intense effort of imaginative work. The episode therefore places revision within a wider conflict: Lucien is trying to give his writing a more original form while lacking the security that would allow him to work without interruption.

The importance of this episode lies in the connection it draws between criticism, practice, and circumstance. d'Arthez supplies a precise formal method and a historical ambition; Lucien acts on the advice rather than defending his first draft; and poverty immediately tests the continuity of that effort. The rewrite marks a genuine turn in his artistic direction, but its promise remains bound to sustained work, while the attempt to sell the manuscript exposes how precarious that work is.