mily; and it is curious
that a few months before he received the letter from Madame Hanska,
telling of her husband's death, he had visited a sorcerer, who by
means of cards, told him many extraordinary things about his past
career, and said that in six weeks he would receive news which would
change his whole life.

[*] "Correspondance," vol. i. p. 147.

The portrait was still destined to cause Balzac much anxiety. After
the close of the Salon, the painter had promised to take a copy of it
for Madame de Balzac, who, "between ourselves," Balzac remarked to
Madame Hanska, would not care much about it, and certainly would not
know the difference between the replica and the original, in which the
soul of the model was searched for, examined and depicted,[*] and
which was, of course, to belong to the beloved friend.

[*] "Lettres a l'Etrangere."

However, there were still many delays. Boulanger showed "horrible
ingratitude," and did not appreciate sufficiently the honour done him
by his illustrious sitter in allowing his portrait to be taken. He
refused at first to begin the copy; but this difficulty was at last
arranged, and the original was carefully packed in a wooden crate,
instead of going in a roll as Balzac had at first intended. Still
there were innumerable stoppages, and doubt where the precious canvas
was located; till the impatient Balzac was only deterred from his
intention of starting a lawsuit against the authorities, by a fear of
bringing the noble name of Hanski into notoriety. It is sad that the
last time we hear of this precious picture in Balzac's lifetime was
when he went to Wierzchownia, in 1849; and then it had been relegated
to a library which few people visited, and he describes it with his
usual energy, as the most hideous daub it is possible to see--quite
black, from the faulty mixing of the colours; a canvas of which, for
the sake of France, he is thoroughly ashamed.

The sketch of the portrait is not disfigured; and the engravings of it
give an interesting view of Balzac's personality. With due deference
to the great psychologist, we cannot think the painter was wrong in
imparting a slightly truculent expression to the face. Balzac was
essentially a fighter: he started life with a struggle against his
family, against the opinion of his friends, and, harder than all,
against his own impotence to give expression to his genius; and, in
the course of his career he made countless enemies, and fini