It will be remembered that while in Vienna, Balzac’s financial strain became such that his sister Laure pawned his silver.  He afterwards admitted that the journey to Vienna was the greatest folly of his life; it cost him five thousand francs and upset all his affairs.  He had other financial troubles also, but found time and means to consult a somnambulist frequently as to his Predilecta, and regretted that he did not have one or two soothsayers, so that he might know daily about her.  His superstition is seen early in their correspondence where he considered it a good omen that Madame Hanska had sent him the Imitation de Jesus-Christ while he was working on Le Medecin de Campagne.  Again and again he insisted that she tell him when any of her family were ill, feeling that he could cure at a distance those whom he loved; or that she should send him a piece of cloth worn next to her person, that he might present this to a clairvoyant.

After delving deeply into mysticism, and writing some books dealing with it, the novelist writes his “Polar Star”: 

“I am sorry to see that you are reading the mystics:  believe me, this sort of reading is fatal to minds like yours; it is a poison; it is an intoxicating narcotic.  These books have a bad influence.  There are follies of virtue as there are follies of dissipation and vice.  If you were not a wife, a mother, a friend, a relation, I would not seek to dissuade you, for then you might go and shut yourself up in a convent at your pleasure without hurting anybody, although you would soon die there.  In your situation, and in your isolation in the midst of those deserts, this kind of reading, believe me, is pernicious.  The rights of friendship are too feeble to make my voice heard; but let me at least make an earnest and humble request on this subject.  Do not, I beg of you, ever read anything more of this kind.  I have myself gone through all this, and I speak from experience.”

As has been stated, Madame Hanska was of assistance to Balzac in his literary work.  He used her ideas frequently, and was gracious in expressing his appreciation of them to her: 

“I must tell you that yesterday . . .  I copied out your portrait of Mademoiselle Celeste, and I said to two uncompromising judges:  ’Here is a sketch I have flung on paper.  I wanted to paint a woman under given circumstances, and launch her into life through such and such an event.’  What do you think they said?—­’Read that portrait again.’  After which they said:—­’That is your masterpiece.  You have never before had that laisser-aller of a writer which shows the hidden strength.’  ‘Ha, ha!’ I answered, striking my head; ‘that comes from the forehead of an analyst.’  I kneel at your feet for this violation; but I left out all that was personal. . . .  I thank you for your glimpses of Viennese society.  What I have learned about Germans in their relations elsewhere