When Balzac was living secluded from his creditors, Madame Visconti showed her friendship for him in a very material way. The bailiff had been seeking him for three weeks, when a vindictive Ariadne, having a strong interest in seeing Balzac conducted to prison, presented herself at the home of the creditor and informed him that the novelist was residing in the Champs-Elysees, at the home of Madame Visconti. Nothing could have been more exact than this information. Two hours later, the home was surrounded, and Balzac, interrupted in the midst of a chapter of one of his novels, saw two bailiffs enter, armed with the traditional club; they showed him a cab waiting at the door. A woman had betrayed him—now a woman saved him. Madame Visconti flung ten thousand francs in the faces of the bailiffs, and showed them the door.[*]
[*] Eugene de Mirecourt, /Les Contemporains/, does not give the date of this incident. Keim et Lumet, /H. de Balzac/, state that it occurred in 1837, but E. E. Saltus, /Balzac/, states that it was in connection with the indebtedness to William Duckett, editor of the /Dictionnaire de la Conversation/, in 1846. F. Lawton, /Balzac/, states that it was in connection with his indebtedness to Duckett on account of the /Chronicle/, and that Balzac was sued in 1837. If the letter to Mme. de V., /Memoir and Letters of Balzac/, was addressed to Madame Visconti, he was owing her in 1840. M. F. Sandars, /Honore de Balzac/, states that about 1846- 1848, Balzac borrowed 10,000 or 15,000 francs from the Viscontis, giving them as guarantee shares in the Chemin de Fer du Nord.
During Balzac's residence /aux Jardies/ he was quite near Madame Visconti, as she was living in a rather insignificant house just opposite the home Balzac had built. He enjoyed her companionship, and when she moved to Versailles he regretted not being able to see her more frequently than once a fortnight, for she was one of the few who gave him their sympathy at that time.
Several months later Balzac was disappointed in her, and referred to her bitterly as /L'Anglaise/, /L'Angleterre/, or "the lady who lived at Versailles." He felt that she was ungrateful and inconsiderate, and while he remained on speaking terms with her, he regarded this friendship as one of the misfortunes of his life.
After the death of Madame Visconti (April 28, 1883), a picture of Balzac which had been in her possession was placed in the museum at Tours. This is supposed to be the portrait painted by Gerard-Seguin, exhibited in the /Salon/ in 1842, and presented to her by Balzac at that time.
In answering several of Madame Hanska's questions, Balzac writes: "No, I was not happy in writing /Beatrix/; you ought to have known it. Yes, Sarah is Madame de Visconti; yes, Mademoiselle des Touches is George Sand; yes, Beatrix is even too much Madame d'Agoult." A few months later he writes: "The friendship of which I spoke to you, and at which you laughed, apropos of the dedication, is not all I thought it. English prejudices are terrible, they take away what is an essential to all artists, the /laisser-aller/, unconstraint. Never have I done so well as when, in the /Lys/, I explained the women of that country in a few words."[*]
[*] This is probably the basis for Mr. Monahan's statement that Balzac pictured Madame Visconti as Lady Dudley in /Le Lys dans la Vallee/.
From the above, one would suppose that Madame Visconti is the "Sarah" whom Balzac addresses in the dedication of /Beatrix/:
"To Sarah.
"In clear weather, on the Mediterranean shores, where formerly extended the magnificent empire of your name, the sea sometimes allows us to perceive beneath the mist of waters a sea-flower, one of Nature's masterpieces; the lacework of its tissues, tinged with purple, russet, rose, violet, or gold, the crispness of its living filigrees, the velvet texture, all vanish as soon as curiosity draws it forth and spreads it on the strand. Thus would the glare of publicity offend your tender modesty; so, in dedicating this work to you, I must reserve a name which would, indeed, be its pride. But, under the shelter of its half-concealment, your superb hands may bless it, your noble brow may bend and dream over it, your eyes, full of motherly love, may smile upon it, since you are here at once present and veiled. Like this pearl of the ocean- garden, you will dwell on the fine, white, level sand where your beautiful life expands, hidden by a wave that is transparent only to certain friendly and reticent eyes. I would gladly have laid at your feet a work in harmony with your perfections; but as that was impossible, I knew, for my consolation, that I was gratifying one of your instincts by offering you something to protect.