in
spite of cold, hunger, and discomfort, he preserves his gaiety, pluck,
and power of making light of hardships, traits of character which were
to be strikingly salient all through his hard, fatiguing career. In
spite of the misery of his surroundings, he had many compensations. He
had gained the wish of his heart, life was before him, beautiful
dreams of future fame floated in the air, and at present he had no
hateful burden of debt to weigh him down. Therefore he managed to
ignore to a great extent the physical pain and discomfort he went
through, as he ignored them all through his life, except when ill
health interfered with the accomplishment of his work.

Another characteristic which might also be amazing, did we not meet it
constantly in Balzac's life, is his longing for luxury and beauty, and
his extraordinary faculty for embarking in a perfectly business-like
way on wildly unreasonable schemes. With hardly enough money to
provide himself with scanty meals, he intends to economise, in order
to buy a piano. "The garret is not big enough to hold one," as he
casually remarks; but this fact, which, apart from the starving
process necessary in order to obtain funds, would appear to the
ordinary mind an insurmountable obstacle to the project, does not
daunt the ever-hopeful Honore.

He has taken the dimensions, he says; and if the landlord objects to
the expense of moving back the wall, he will pay the money himself,
and add it to the price of the piano. Here we recognise exactly the
same Balzac whose vagrant schemes later on were listened to by his
friends with a mixture of fascination and bewilderment, and who, in
utter despair about his pecuniary circumstances at the beginning of a
letter, talks airily towards the end of buying a costly picture, or
acquiring an estate in the country.

There is a curious and striking contrast in Balzac between the
backwardness in the expression of his literary genius, and the early
development and crystallisation of his character and powers of mind in
other directions. Even when he realised his vocation, forsook verse,
and began to write novels, he for long gave no indication of his
future powers; while, on the other hand, at the age of twenty, his
views on most points were formed, and his judgments matured.
Therefore, unlike most men, in whom, even if there be no violent
changes, age gradually and imperceptibly modifies the point of view,
Balzac, a youth in his garret, differe