eposed on some trifling foundation of facts, but which assumed
monstrous proportions in his imagination, and recurred perpetually as
the supposed cause of his poverty. In sober reality, however, he was
poor, and found compensation in creating a vast credit, as imaginary as
his liabilities. Upon that bank he could draw without stint. He
therefore inscribed in one place upon the bare walls of his house, 'Ici
un revetement de marbre de Paros;' in another, 'Ici un plafond peint par
Eugene Delacroix;' in a third, 'Ici des portes, facon Trianon;' and, in
short, revelled in gorgeous decorations made of the same materials as
the dishes of the Barmecides' feast. A minor source of wealth was the
single walnut-tree which really grew in his gardens, and which increased
his dream-revenue by 60_l._ a year. This extraordinary result was due,
not to any merit in the nuts, but to an ancient and imaginary custom of
the village which compelled the inhabitants to deposit round its foot a
material defined by Victor Hugo as 'du guano moins les oiseaux.' The
most singular story, however, and which we presume is to be received
with a certain reserve, tells how he roused two of his intimate friends
at two o'clock one morning, and urged them to start for India without an
hour's delay. The cause of this journey was that a certain German
historian had presented Balzac with a seal, valued by the thoughtless at
the sum of six sous. The ring, however, had a singular history in
Balzac's dreamland. It was impressed with the seal of the Prophet, and
had been stolen by the English from the Great Mogul. Balzac had or had
not been informed by the Turkish ambassador that that potentate would
repurchase it with tons of gold and diamonds, and was benevolent enough
to propose that his friend should share in the stores which would exceed
the dreams of Aladdin.

How far these and other such fancies were a merely humorous protest
against the harsh realities of life, may be a matter of speculation; but
it is less doubtful that the fictitious personages with whom Balzac
surrounded himself lived and moved in his imagination as distinctly as
the flesh-and-blood realities who were treading the pavement of Paris.
He did not so much invent characters and situations as watch his
imaginary world, and compile the memories of its celebrities. All
English readers are acquainted with the little circle of clergymen and
wives who inhabit the town of Barchester. Balzac has carrie