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diff --git a/old/138-h.zip b/old/138-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..eaadbe2 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/138-h.zip diff --git a/old/138-h/138-h.htm b/old/138-h/138-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..965d9b7 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/138-h/138-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7682 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="us-ascii"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + George Sand, by Rene Doumic + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of George Sand, Some Aspects of Her Life and +Writings, by Rene Doumic + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: George Sand, Some Aspects of Her Life and Writings + +Author: Rene Doumic + +Translator: Alys Hallard + +Release Date: March 11, 2006 [EBook #138] +Last Updated: January 26, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GEORGE SAND, SOME ASPECTS OF *** + + + + +Produced by Charles E. Keller and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + GEORGE SAND + </h1> + <h2> + Some Aspects of Her Life and Writings + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + by Rene Doumic + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + Translated by Alys Hallard + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h4> + First published in 1910. <br /> <br /><br /> This volume is dedicated to + Madame L. Landouzy <br /> with gratitude and affection + </h4> + <p> + This book is not intended as a study of George Sand. It is merely a series + of chapters touching on various aspects of her life and writings. My work + will not be lost if the perusal of these pages should inspire one of the + historians of our literature with the idea of devoting to the great + novelist, to her genius and her influence, a work of this kind. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> I </a><br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> + II </a><br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> III </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0006"> IV </a><br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> V + </a><br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VI </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0009"> VII </a><br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> + VIII </a><br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> IX </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0012"> X </a> + </td> + <td> + AURORE DUPIN <br /><br /> BARONNE DUDEVANT <br /><br /> A FEMINIST OF 1832 + <br /><br /> THE ROMANTIC ESCAPADE <br /><br /> THE FRIEND OF MICHEL (DE + BOURGES) <br /><br /> A CASE OF MATERNAL AFFECTION IN LOVE <br /><br /> + THE HUMANITARIAN DREAM <br /><br /> 1848 <br /><br /> THE 'BONNE DAME' OF + NOHANT <br /><br /> THE GENIUS OF THE WRITER + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + GEORGE SAND + </h1> + <p> + <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I + </h2> + <h3> + AURORE DUPIN + </h3> + <p> + PSYCHOLOGY OF A DAUGHTER OF ROUSSEAU + </p> + <p> + In the whole of French literary history, there is, perhaps, no subject of + such inexhaustible and modern interest as that of George Sand. Of what use + is literary history? It is not only a kind of museum, in which a few + masterpieces are preserved for the pleasure of beholders. It is this + certainly, but it is still more than this. Fine books are, before anything + else, living works. They not only have lived, but they continue to live. + They live within us, underneath those ideas which form our conscience and + those sentiments which inspire our actions. There is nothing of greater + importance for any society than to make an inventory of the ideas and the + sentiments which are composing its moral atmosphere every instant that it + exists. For every individual this work is the very condition of his + dignity. The question is, should we have these ideas and these sentiments, + if, in the times before us, there had not been some exceptional + individuals who seized them, as it were, in the air and made them viable + and durable? These exceptional individuals were capable of thinking more + vigorously, of feeling more deeply, and of expressing themselves more + forcibly than we are. They bequeathed these ideas and sentiments to us. + Literary history is, then, above and beyond all things, the perpetual + examination of the conscience of humanity. + </p> + <p> + There is no need for me to repeat what every one knows, the fact that our + epoch is extremely complex, agitated and disturbed. In the midst of this + labyrinth in which we are feeling our way with such difficulty, who does + not look back regretfully to the days when life was more simple, when it + was possible to walk towards a goal, mysterious and unknown though it + might be, by straight paths and royal routes? + </p> + <p> + George Sand wrote for nearly half a century. For fifty times three hundred + and sixty-five days, she never let a day pass by without covering more + pages than other writers in a month. Her first books shocked people, her + early opinions were greeted with storms. From that time forth she rushed + head-long into everything new, she welcomed every chimera and passed it on + to us with more force and passion in it. Vibrating with every breath, + electrified by every storm, she looked up at every cloud behind which she + fancied she saw a star shining. The work of another novelist has been + called a repertory of human documents. But what a repertory of ideas her + work was! She has said what she had to say on nearly every subject; on + love, the family, social institutions and on the various forms of + government. And with all this she was a woman. Her case is almost unique + in the history of letters. It is intensely interesting to study the + influence of this woman of genius on the evolution of modern thought. + </p> + <p> + I shall endeavour to approach my subject conscientiously and with all due + respect. I shall study biography where it is indispensable for the + complete understanding of works. I shall give a sketch of the original + individuals I meet on my path, portraying these only at their point of + contact with the life of our authoress, and it seems to me that a gallery + in which we see Sandeau, Sainte-Beuve, Musset, Michel (of Bourges), Liszt, + Chopin, Lamennais, Pierre Leroux, Dumas <i>fils</i>, Flaubert and many, + many others is an incomparable portrait gallery. I shall not attack + persons, but I shall discuss ideas and, when necessary, dispute them + energetically. We shall, I hope, during our voyage, see many perspectives + open out before us. + </p> + <p> + I have, of course, made use of all the works devoted to George Sand which + were of any value for my study, and among others of the two volumes + published, under the name of Wladimir Karenine,(1) by a woman belonging to + Russian aristocratic society. For the period before 1840, this is the most + complete work that has been written. M. Samuel Rocheblave, a clever + University professor and the man who knows more than any one about the + life and works of George Sand, has been my guide and has helped me greatly + with his wise advice. Private collections of documents have also been + placed at my service most generously. I am therefore able to supply some + hitherto unpublished writings. George Sand published, in all, about a + hundred volumes of novels and stories, four volumes of autobiography, and + six of correspondence. In spite of all this we are still asked for fresh + documents. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (1) WLADIMIR KARENINE: <i>George Sand, Sa vie et ses + oeuvres.</i> 2 Vols. Ollendorf. +</pre> + <p> + It is interesting, as a preliminary study, to note the natural gifts, and + the first impressions of Aurore Dupin as a child and young girl, and to + see how these predetermined the woman and the writer known to us as George + Sand. + </p> + <p> + Lucile-Amandine-Aurore Dupin, legitimate daughter of Maurice Dupin and of + Sophie-Victoire Delaborde, was born in Paris, at 15 Rue Meslay, in the + neighbourhood of the Temple, on the 1st of July, 1804. I would call + attention at once to the special phenomenon which explains the problem of + her destiny: I mean by this her heredity, or rather the radical and + violent contrast of her maternal and paternal heredity. + </p> + <p> + By her father she was an aristocrat and related to the reigning houses. + </p> + <p> + Her ancestor was the King of Poland, Augustus II, the lover of the + beautiful Countess Aurora von Koenigsmarck. George Sand's grandfather was + Maurice de Saxe. He may have been an adventurer and a <i>condottiere</i>, + but France owes to him Fontenoy, that brilliant page of her history. All + this takes us back to the eighteenth century with its brilliant, gallant, + frivolous, artistic and profligate episodes. Maurice de Saxe adored the + theatre, either for itself or for the sake of the women connected with it. + On his campaign, he took with him a theatrical company which gave a + representation the evening before a battle. In this company was a young + artiste named Mlle. de Verrieres whose father was a certain M. Rinteau. + Maurice de Saxe admired the young actress and a daughter was born of this + <i>liaison</i>, who was later on recognized by her father and named + Marie-Aurore de Saxe. This was George Sand's grandmother. At the age of + fifteen the young girl married Comte de Horn, a bastard son of Louis XV. + This husband was obliging enough to his wife, who was only his wife in + name, to die as soon as possible. She then returned to her mother "the + Opera lady." An elderly nobleman, Dupin de Francueil, who had been the + lover of the other Mlle. Verrieres, now fell in love with her and married + her. Their son, Maurice Dupin, was the father of our novelist. The + astonishing part of this series of adventures is that Marie-Aurore should + have been the eminently respectable woman that she was. On her mother's + side, though, Aurore Dupin belonged to the people. She was the daughter of + Sophie-Victoire Delaborde milliner, the grandchild of a certain + bird-seller on the Quai des Oiseaux, who used to keep a public-house, and + she was the great-granddaughter of Mere Cloquart. + </p> + <p> + This double heredity was personified in the two women who shared George + Sand's childish affection. We must therefore study the portraits of these + two women. + </p> + <p> + The grandmother was, if not a typical <i>grande dame</i>, at least a + typical elegant woman of the latter half of the eighteenth century. She + was very well educated and refined, thanks to living with the two sisters, + Mlles. Verrieres, who were accustomed to the best society. She was a good + musician and sang delightfully. When she married Dupin de Francueil, her + husband was sixty-two, just double her age. But, as she used to say to her + granddaughter, "no one was ever old in those days. It was the Revolution + that brought old age into the world." + </p> + <p> + Dupin was a very agreeable man. When younger he had been <i>too</i> + agreeable, but now he was just sufficiently so to make his wife very + happy. He was very lavish in his expenditure and lived like a prince, so + that he left Marie-Aurore ruined and poor with about three thousand a + year. She was imbued with the ideas of the philosophers and an enemy of + the Queen's <i>coterie</i>. She was by no means alarmed at the Revolution + and was very soon taken prisoner. She was arrested on the 26th of + November, 1793, and incarcerated in the <i>Couvent des Anglaises</i>, Rue + des Fosse's-Saint-Victor, which had been converted into a detention house. + On leaving prison she settled down at Nohant, an estate she had recently + bought. It was there that her granddaughter remembered her in her early + days. She describes her as tall, slender, fair and always very calm. At + Nohant she had only her maids and her books for company. When in Paris, + she delighted in the society of people of her own station and of her time, + people who had the ideas and airs of former days. She continued, in this + new century, the shades of thought and the manners and Customs of the old + <i>regime.</i> + </p> + <p> + As a set-off to this woman of race and of culture, Aurore's mother + represented the ordinary type of the woman of the people. She was small, + dark, fiery and violent. She, too, the bird-seller's daughter, had been + imprisoned by the Revolution, and strangely enough in the <i>Couvent des + Anglaises</i> at about the same time as Maurice de Saxe's granddaughter. + It was in this way that the fusion of classes was understood under the + Terror. She was employed as a <i>figurante</i> in a small theatre. This + was merely a commencement for her career. At the time when Maurice Dupin + met her, she was the mistress of an old general. She already had one child + of doubtful parentage. Maurice Dupin, too, had a natural son, named + Hippolyte, so that they could not reproach each other. When Maurice Dupin + married Sophie-Victoire, a month before the birth of Aurore, he had some + difficulty in obtaining his mother's consent. She finally gave in, as she + was of an indulgent nature. It is possible that Sophie-Victoire's conduct + was irreproachable during her husband's lifetime, but, after his death, + she returned to her former ways. She was nevertheless of religious habits + and would not, upon any account, have missed attending Mass. She was + quick-tempered, jealous and noisy and, when anything annoyed her, + extremely hot-headed. At such times she would shout and storm, so that the + only way to silence her was to shout still more loudly. She never bore any + malice, though, and wished no harm to those she had insulted. She was of + course sentimental, but more passionate than tender, and she quickly + forgot those whom she had loved most fondly. There seemed to be gaps in + her memory and also in her conscience. She was ignorant, knowing nothing + either of literature or of the usages of society. Her <i>salon</i> was the + landing of her flat and her acquaintances were the neighbours who happened + to live next door to her. It is easy to imagine what she thought of the + aristocrats who visited her mother-in-law. She was amusing when she joked + and made parodies on the women she styled "the old Countesses." She had a + great deal of natural wit, a liveliness peculiar to the native of the + faubourgs, all the impudence of the street arab, and a veritable talent of + mimicry. She was a good housewife, active, industrious and most clever in + turning everything to account. With a mere nothing she could improvise a + dress or a hat and give it a certain style. She was always most skilful + with her fingers, a typical Parisian work-girl, a daughter of the street + and a child of the people. In our times she would be styled "a midinette." + </p> + <p> + Such are the two women who shared the affection of Aurore Dupin. Fate had + brought them together, but had made them so unlike that they were bound to + dislike each other. The childhood of little Aurore served as the lists for + their contentions. Their rivalry was the dominating note in the + sentimental education of the child. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +As long as Maurice Dupin lived, Aurore was always with her parents in +their little Parisian dwelling. Maurice Dupin was a brilliant officer, +and very brave and jovial. In 1808, Aurore went to him in Madrid, where +he was Murat's <i>aide-de-camp</i>. She lived in the palace of the Prince +of Peace, that vast palace which Murat filled with the splendour of his +costumes and the groans caused by his suffering. Like Victor Hugo, +who went to the same place at about the same time and under similar +conditions, Aurore may have brought back with her: + + <i>de ses courses lointaines</i> + <i>Comme un vaguefaisceau de lueurs incertaines.</i> +</pre> + <p> + This does not seem probable, though. The return was painful, as they came + back worried and ill, and were glad to take refuge at Nohant. They were + just beginning to organize their life when Maurice Dupin died suddenly, + from an accident when riding, leaving his mother and his wife together. + </p> + <p> + From this time forth, Aurore was more often with her grandmother at Nohant + than with her mother in Paris. Her grandmother undertook the care of her + education. Her half-brother, Hippolyte Chatiron, and she received lessons + from M. Deschartres, who had educated Maurice Dupin. He was steward and + tutor combined, a very authoritative man, arrogant and a great pedant. He + was affectionate, though, and extremely devoted. He was both detestable + and touching at the same time, and had a warm heart hidden under a rough + exterior. Nohant was in the heart of Berry, and this meant the country and + Nature. For Aurore Dupin Nature proved to be an incomparable educator. + </p> + <p> + There was only one marked trait in the child's character up to this date, + and that was a great tendency to reverie. For long hours she would remain + alone, motionless, gazing into space. People were anxious about her when + they saw her looking so <i>stupid</i>, but her mother invariably said: "Do + not be alarmed. She is always ruminating about something." Country life, + while providing her with fresh air and plenty of exercise, so that her + health was magnificent, gave fresh food and another turn to her reveries. + Ten years earlier Alphonse de Lamartine had been sent to the country at + Milly, and allowed to frequent the little peasant children of the place. + Aurore Dupin's existence was now very much the same as that of Lamartine. + Nohant is situated in the centre of the Black Valley. The ground is dark + and rich; there are narrow, shady paths. It is not a hilly country, and + there are wide, peaceful horizons. At all hours of the day and at all + seasons of the year, Aurore wandered along the Berry roads with her little + playfellows, the farmers' children. There was Marie who tended the flock, + Solange who collected leaves, and Liset and Plaisir who minded the pigs. + She always knew in what meadow or in what place she would find them. She + played with them amongst the hay, climbed the trees and dabbled in the + water. She minded the flock with them, and in winter, when the herdsmen + talked together, assembled round their fire, she listened to their + wonderful stories. These credulous country children had "seen with their + own eyes" Georgeon, the evil spirit of the Black Valley. They had also + seen will-o'-the-wisps, ghosts, the "white greyhound" and the "Big Beast"! + In the evenings, she sat up listening to the stories told by the + hemp-weaver. Her fresh young soul was thus impregnated at an early age + with the poetry of the country. And it was all the poetry of the country, + that which comes from things, such as the freshness of the air and the + perfume of the flowers, but also that which is to be found in the + simplicity of sentiments and in that candour and surprise face to face + with those sights of Nature which have remained the same and have been + just as incomprehensible ever since the beginning of the world. + </p> + <p> + The antagonism of the two mothers increased, though. We will not go into + detail with regard to the various episodes, but will only consider the + consequences. + </p> + <p> + The first consequence was that the intelligence of the child became more + keen through this duality. Placed as she was, in these two different + worlds, between two persons with minds so unlike, and, obliged as she was + to go from one to the other, she learnt to understand and appreciate them + both, contrasts though they were. She had soon reckoned each of them up, + and she saw their weaknesses, their faults, their merits and their + advantages. + </p> + <p> + A second consequence was to increase her sensitiveness. Each time that she + left her mother, the separation was heartrending. When she was absent from + her, she suffered on account of this absence, and still more because she + fancied that she would be forgotten. She loved her mother, just as she + was, and the idea that any one was hostile or despised her caused the + child much silent suffering. It was as though she had an ever-open wound. + </p> + <p> + Another consequence, and by no means the least important one, was to + determine in a certain sense the immense power of sympathy within her. For + a long time she only felt a sort of awe, when with her reserved and + ceremonious grandmother. She felt nearer to her mother, as there was no + need to be on ceremony with her. She took a dislike to all those who + represented authority, rules and the tyranny of custom. She considered her + mother and herself as oppressed individuals. A love for the people sprang + up in the heart of the daughter of Sophie-Victoire. She belonged to them + through her mother, and she was drawn to them now through the humiliations + she underwent. In this little enemy of reverences and of society people, + we see the dawn of that instinct which, later on, was to cause her to + revolt openly. George Sand was quite right in saying, later on, that it + was of no use seeking any intellectual reason as the explanation of her + social preferences. Everything in her was due to sentiment. Her socialism + was entirely the outcome of her suffering and torments as a child. + </p> + <p> + Things had to come to a crisis, and the crisis was atrocious. George Sand + gives an account of the tragic scene in her <i>Histoire de ma vie</i>. Her + grandmother had already had one attack of paralysis. She was anxious about + Aurore's future, and wished to keep her from the influence of her mother. + She therefore decided to employ violent means to this end. She sent for + the child to her bedside, and, almost beside herself, in a choking voice, + she revealed to her all that she ought to have concealed. She told her of + Sophie-Victoire's past, she uttered the fatal word and spoke of the + child's mother as a lost woman. With Aurore's extreme sensitiveness, it + was horrible to receive such confidences at the age of thirteen. Thirty + years later, George Sand describes the anguish of the terrible minute. "It + was a nightmare," she says. "I felt choked, and it was as though every + word would kill me. The perspiration came out on my face. I wanted to + interrupt her, to get up and rush away. I did not want to hear the + frightful accusation. I could not move, though; I seemed to be nailed on + my knees, and my head seemed to be bowed down by that voice that I heard + above me, a voice which seemed to wither me like a storm wind." + </p> + <p> + It seems extraordinary that a woman, who was in reality so kind-hearted + and so wise, should have allowed herself to be carried away like this. + Passion has these sudden and unexpected outbursts, and we see here a most + significant proof of the atmosphere of passion in which the child had + lived, and which gradually insinuated itself within her. + </p> + <p> + Under these circumstances, Aurore's departure for the convent was a + deliverance. Until just recently, there has always been a convent in vogue + in France in which it has been considered necessary for girls in good + society to be educated. In 1817, <i>the Couvent des Anglaises</i> was in + vogue, the very convent which had served as a prison for the mother and + grandmother of Aurore. The three years she spent there in that "big + feminine family, where every one was as kind as God," she considered the + most peaceful and happy time of her life. The pages she devotes to them in + her <i>Histoire de ma vie</i> have all the freshness of an oasis. She + describes most lovingly this little world, apart, exclusive and + self-sufficing, in which life was so intense. + </p> + <p> + The house consisted of a number of constructions, and was situated in the + neighbourhood given up to convents. There were courtyards and gardens + enough to make it seem like a small village. There was also a labyrinth of + passages above and underground, just as in one of Anne Radcliffe's novels. + There were old walls overgrown with vine and jasmine. The cock could be + heard at midnight, just as in the heart of the country, and there was a + bell with a silvery tone like a woman's voice. From her little cell, + Aurore looked over the tops of the great chestnut trees on to Paris, so + that the air so necessary for the lungs of a child accustomed to + wanderings in the country was not lacking in her convent home. The pupils + had divided themselves into three categories: the <i>diables</i>, the good + girls, who were the specially pious ones, and the silly ones. Aurore took + her place at once among the <i>diables</i>. The great exploit of these + convent girls consisted in descending into the cellars, during recreation, + and in sounding the walls, in order to "deliver the victim." There was + supposed to be an unfortunate victim imprisoned and tortured by the good, + kindhearted Sisters. Alas! all the <i>diables</i> sworn to the task in the + <i>Couvent des Anglaises</i> never succeeded in finding the victim, so + that she must be there still. + </p> + <p> + Very soon, though, a sudden change-took place in Aurore's soul. It would + have been strange had it been otherwise. With so extraordinarily sensitive + an organization, the new and totally different surroundings could not fail + to make an impression. The cloister, the cemetery, the long services, the + words of the ritual, murmured in the dimly-lighted chapel, and the piety + that seems to hover in the air in houses where many prayers have been + offered up—all this acted on the young girl. One evening in August, + she had gone into the church, which was dimly lighted by the sanctuary + lamp. Through the open window came the perfume of honeysuckle and the + songs of the birds. There was a charm, a mystery and a solemn calm about + everything, such as she had never before experienced. "I do not know what + was taking place within me," she said, when describing this, later on, + "but I breathed an atmosphere that was indescribably delicious, and I + seemed to be breathing it in my very soul. Suddenly, I felt a shock + through all my being, a dizziness came over me, and I seemed to be + enveloped in a white light. I thought I heard a voice murmuring in my ear: + <i>'Tolle Lege.'</i> I turned round, and saw that I was quite alone. . . + ." + </p> + <p> + Our modern <i>psychiatres</i> would say that she had had an hallucination + of hearing, together with olfactory trouble. I prefer saying that she had + received the visit of grace. Tears of joy bathed her face and she remained + there, sobbing for a long time. + </p> + <p> + The convent had therefore opened to Aurore another world of sentiment, + that of Christian emotion. Her soul was naturally religious, and the + dryness of a philosophical education had not been sufficient for it. The + convent had now brought her the aliment for which she had instinctively + longed. Later on, when her faith, which had never been very enlightened, + left her, the sentiment remained. This religiosity, of Christian form, was + essential to George Sand. + </p> + <p> + The convent also rendered her another eminent service. In the <i>Histoire + de ma vie</i>, George Sand retraces from memory the portraits of several + of the Sisters. She tells us of Madame Marie-Xavier, and of her despair at + having taken the vows; of Sister Anne-Joseph, who was as kind as an angel + and as silly as a goose; of the gentle Marie-Alicia, whose serene soul + looked out of her blue eyes, a mirror of purity, and of the mystical + Sister Helene, who had left home in spite of her family, in spite of the + supplications and the sobs of her mother and sisters, and who had passed + over the body of a child on her way to God. It is like this always. The + costumes are the same, the hands are clasped in the same manner, the white + bands and the faces look equally pale, but underneath this apparent + uniformity what contrasts! It is the inner life which marks the + differences so vigorously, and shows up the originality of each one. + Aurore gradually discovered the diversity of all these souls and the + beauty of each one. She thought of becoming a nun, but her confessor did + not advise this, and he was certainly wise. Her grandmother, who had a + philosopher's opinion of priests, blamed their fanaticism, and took her + little granddaughter away from the convent. Perhaps she felt the need of + affection for the few months she had still to live. At any rate, she + certainly had this affection. One of the first results of the larger + perspicacity which Aurore had acquired at the convent was to make her + understand her grandmother at last. She was able now to grasp the complex + nature of her relative and to see the delicacy hidden under an appearance + of great reserve. She knew now all that she owed to her grandmother, but + unfortunately it was one of those discoveries which are made too late. + </p> + <p> + The eighteen months which Aurore now passed at Nohant, until the death of + her grandmother, are very important as regards her psychological + biography. She was seventeen years old, and a girl who was eager to live + and very emotional. She had first been a child of Nature. Her convent life + had taken her away from Nature and accustomed her to falling back on her + own thoughts. Nature now took her back once more, and her beloved Nohant + feted her return. + </p> + <p> + "The trees were in flower," she says, "the nightingales were singing, and, + in the distance, I could hear the classic, solemn sound of the labourers. + My old friends, the big dogs, who had growled at me the evening before, + recognized me again and were profuse in their caresses. . . ." + </p> + <p> + She wanted to see everything again. The things themselves had not changed, + but her way of looking at them now was different. During her long, + solitary walks every morning, she enjoyed seeing the various landscapes, + sometimes melancholy-looking and sometimes delightful. She enjoyed, too, + the picturesqueness of the various things she met, the flocks of cattle, + the birds taking their flight, and even the sound of the horses' feet + splashing in the water. She enjoyed everything, in a kind of voluptuous + reverie which was no longer instinctive, but conscious and a trifle + morbid. + </p> + <p> + Added to all this, her reading at this epoch was without any order or + method. She read everything voraciously, mixing all the philosophers up + together. She read Locke, Condillac, Montesquieu, Bossuet, Pascal, + Montaigne, but she kept Rousseau apart from the others. She devoured the + books of the moralists and poets, La Bruyere, Pope, Milton, Dante, Virgil, + Shakespeare. All this reading was too much for her and excited her brain. + She had reserved Chateaubriand's <i>Rene</i>, and, on reading that, she + was overcome by the sadness which emanates from these distressing pages. + She was disgusted with life, and attempted to commit suicide. She tried to + drown herself, and only owed her life to the healthy-mindedness of the + good mare Colette, as the horse evidently had not the same reasons as its + young mistress for wishing to put an end to its days. + </p> + <p> + All this time Aurore was entirely free to please herself. Deschartres, who + had always treated her as a boy, encouraged her independence. It was at + his instigation that she dressed in masculine attire to go out shooting. + People began to talk about her "eccentricities" at Landerneau, and the + gossip continued as far as La Chatre. Added to this, Aurore began to study + osteology with a young man who lived in the neighbourhood, and it was said + that this young man, Stephane Ajasson de Grandsaigne, gave her lessons in + her own room. This was the climax. + </p> + <p> + We have a curious testimony as regards the state of the young girl's mind + at this epoch. A review, entitled <i>Le Voile de pourpre</i>, published + recently, in its first number, a letter from Aurore to her mother, dated + November 18, 1821. Her mother had evidently written to her on hearing the + gossip about her, and had probably enlarged upon it. + </p> + <p> + "You reproach me, mother, with neither having timidity, modesty, nor + charm," she writes, "or at least you suppose that I have these qualities, + but that I refrain from showing them, and you are quite certain that I + have no outward decency nor decorum. You ought to know me before judging + me in this way. You would then be able to form an opinion about my + conduct. Grandmother is here, and, ill though she is, she watches over me + carefully and lovingly, and she would not fail to correct me if she + considered that I had the manners of a dragoon or of a hussar." + </p> + <p> + She considered that she had no need of any one to guide or protect her, + and no need of leading-strings. + </p> + <p> + "I am seventeen," she says, "and I know my way about." + </p> + <p> + If this Monsieur de Grandsaigne had ventured to take any liberty with her, + she was old enough to take care of herself. + </p> + <p> + Her mother had blamed her for learning Latin and osteology. "Why should a + woman be ignorant?" she asks. "Can she not be well educated without this + spoiling her and without being pedantic? Supposing that I should have sons + in the future, and that I had profited sufficiently by my studies to be + able to teach them, would not a mother's lessons be as good as a tutor's?" + </p> + <p> + She was already challenging public opinion, starting a campaign against + false prejudices, showing a tendency to generalize, and to make the cause + of one woman the cause of all women. + </p> + <p> + We must now bear in mind the various traits we have discovered, one after + another, in Aurore's character. We must remember to what parentage she + owed her intellectuality and her sentimentality. It will then be more easy + to understand the terms she uses when describing her fascination for + Rousseau's writings. + </p> + <p> + "The language of Jean-Jacques and the form of his deductions impressed me + as music might have done when heard in brilliant sunshine. I compared him + to Mozart, and I understood everything." + </p> + <p> + She understood him, for she recognized herself in him. She sympathized + with that predominance of feeling and imagination, that exaggeration of + sentiment, that preference for life according to Nature, that emotion on + beholding the various sights of the country, that distrust of people, + those effusions of religious sentimentality, those solitary reveries, and + that melancholy which made death seem desirable to him. All this was to + Aurore Dupin the gospel according to Rousseau. The whole of her psychology + is to be found here. + </p> + <p> + She was an exceptional being undoubtedly; but in order to be a genial + exception one must have within oneself, and then personify with great + intensity all the inspirations which, at a certain moment, are dispersed + in the atmosphere. Ever since the great agitation which had shaken the + moral world by Rousseau's preaching, there had been various vague currents + and a whole crowd of confused aspirations floating about. It was this + enormous wave that entered a feminine soul. Unconsciously Aurore Dupin + welcomed the new ideal, and it was this ideal which was to operate within + her. The question was, what would she do with it, in presence of life with + all its everyday and social realities. This question is the object of our + study. In the solution of it lies the interest, the drama and the lesson + of George Sand's destiny. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + BARONNE DUDEVANT MARRIAGE AND FREEDOM—THE ARRIVAL IN PARIS—JULES + SANDEAU + </p> + <p> + We must now endeavour to discover what the future George Sand's + experiences of marriage were, and the result of these experiences on the + formation of her ideas. + </p> + <p> + "You will lose your best friend in me," were the last words of the + grandmother to her granddaughter on her death-bed. The old lady spoke + truly, and Aurore was very soon to prove this. By a clause in her will, + Madame Dupin de Francueil left the guardianship of Aurore to a cousin, + Rene de Villeneuve. It was scarcely likely, though, that Sophie-Victoire + should consent to her own rights being frustrated by this illegal clause, + particularly as this man belonged to the world of the "old Countesses." + She took her daughter with her to Paris. Unfortunately for her, Aurore's + eyes were now open, and she was cultured enough to have been in entire + sympathy with her exquisite grandmother. It was no longer possible for her + to have the old passionate affection and indulgence for her mother, + especially as she felt that she had hitherto been deserted by her. She saw + her mother now just as she was, a light woman belonging to the people, a + woman who could not resign herself to growing old. If only Sophie-Victoire + had been of a tranquil disposition! She was most restless, on the + contrary, wanting to change her abode and change her restaurant every day. + She would quarrel with people one day, make it up the next; wear a + different-shaped hat every day, and change the colour of her hair + continually. She was always in a state of agitation. She loved police news + and thrilling stories; read the <i>Sherlock Holmes</i> of those days until + the middle of the night. She dreamed of such stories, and the following + day went on living in an atmosphere of crime. When she had an attack of + indigestion, she always imagined that she had been poisoned. When a + visitor arrived, she thought it must be a burglar. She was most sarcastic + about Aurore's "fine education" and her literary aspirations. Her hatred + of the dead grandmother was as strong as ever. She was constantly + insulting her memory, and in her fits of anger said unheard-of things. + Aurore's silence was her only reply to these storms, and this exasperated + her mother. She declared that she would correct her daughter's "sly ways." + Aurore began to wonder with terror whether her mother's mind were not + beginning to give way. The situation finally became intolerable. + </p> + <p> + Sophie-Victoire took her daughter to spend two or three days with some + friends of hers, and then left her there. They lived in the country at + Plessis-Picard, near Melun. Aurore was delighted to find a vast park with + thickets in which there were roebucks bounding about. She loved the deep + glades and the water with the green reflections of old willow trees. + Monsieur James Duplessis and his wife, Angele, were excellent people, and + they adopted Aurore for the time being. They already had five daughters, + so that one more did not make much difference. They frequented a few + families in the neighbourhood, and there was plenty of gaiety among the + young people. The Duplessis took Aurore sometimes to Paris and to the + theatre. + </p> + <p> + "One evening," we are told in the <i>Histoire de ma vie</i>, "we were + having some ices at Tortoni's after the theatre, when suddenly my mother + Angele said to her husband, 'Why, there's Casimir!' A young man, slender + and rather elegant, with a gay expression and a military look, came and + shook hands, and answered all the questions he was asked about his father, + Colonel Dudevant, who was evidently very much respected and loved by the + family." + </p> + <p> + This was the first meeting, the first appearance of Casimir in the story, + and this was how he entered into the life of Aurore. + </p> + <p> + He was invited to Plessis, he joined the young people good-humouredly in + their games, was friendly with Aurore, and, without posing as a suitor, + asked for her hand in marriage. There was no reason for her to refuse him. + He was twenty-seven years of age, had served two years in the army, and + had studied law in Paris. He was a natural son, of course, but he had been + recognized by his father, Colonel Dudevant. The Dudevant family was + greatly respected. They had a <i>chateau</i> at Guillery in Gascony. + Casimir had been well brought up and had good manners. Aurore might as + well marry him as any other young man. It would even be preferable to + marry him rather than another young man. He was already her friend, and he + would then be her husband. That would not make much difference. + </p> + <p> + The marriage almost fell through, thanks to Sophie-Victoire. She did not + consider Casimir good-looking enough. She was not thinking of her + daughter, but of herself. She had made up her mind to have a handsome + son-in-law with whom she could go out. She liked handsome men, and + particularly military men. Finally she consented to the marriage, but, a + fortnight before the ceremony, she arrived at Plessis, like a veritable + thunderbolt. An extraordinary idea had occurred to her. She vowed that she + had discovered that Casimir had been a waiter at a <i>cafe</i>. She had no + doubt dreamt this, but she held to her text, and was indignant at the idea + of her daughter marrying a waiter! . . . + </p> + <p> + Things had arrived at this crisis when Casimir's mother, Madame Dudevant, + who had all the manners of a <i>grande dame</i>, decided to pay + Sophie-Victoire an official visit. The latter was greatly flattered, for + she liked plenty of attention paid to her. It was in this way that Aurore + Dupin became Baronne Dudevant. + </p> + <p> + She was just eighteen years of age. It is interesting to read her + description of herself at this time. In her <i>Voyage en Auvergne</i>, + which was her first writing, dated 1827, she traces the following + portrait, which certainly is not exaggerated. + </p> + <p> + "When I was sixteen," she says, "and left the convent, every one could see + that I was a pretty girl. I was fresh-looking, though dark. I was like + those wild flowers which grow without any art or culture, but with gay, + lively colouring. I had plenty of hair, which was almost black. On looking + at myself in the glass, though, I can truthfully say that I was not very + well pleased with myself. I was dark, my features were well cut, but not + finished. People said that it was the expression of my face that made it + interesting. I think this was true. I was gay but dreamy, and my most + natural expression was a meditative one. People said, too, that in this + absent-minded expression there was a fixed look which resembled that of + the serpent when fascinating his prey. That, at any rate, was the + far-fetched comparison of my provincial adorers." + </p> + <p> + They were not very far wrong, these provincial adorers. The portraits of + Aurore at this date show us a charming face of a young girl, as + fresh-looking as a child. She has rather long features, with a + delicately-shaped chin. She is not exactly pretty, but fascinating, with + those great dark eyes, which were her prominent feature, eyes which, when + fixed on any one, took complete possession of them—dreamy, + passionate eyes, sombre because the soul reflected in them had profound + depths. + </p> + <p> + It is difficult to define that soul, for it was so complex. To judge by + appearances, it was a very peaceful soul, and perhaps, too, it was in + reality peaceful. George Sand, who knew herself thoroughly, frequently + spoke of her laziness and of her apathy, traits peculiar to the natives of + Berry. Superficial observers looked no further, and her mother used to + call her "St. Tranquillity." The nuns, though, of her convent had more + perspicacity. They said, when speaking of her: "Still waters run deep." + Under the smooth surface they fancied that storms were gathering. Aurore + had within her something of her mother and of her grandmother, and their + opposite natures were blended in her. She had the calmness of + Marie-Aurore, but she also had the impetuousness of Sophie-Victoire, and + undoubtedly, too, something of the free and easy good humour of her + father, the break-neck young officer. It certainly is not surprising to + find a love of adventure in a descendant of Maurice de Saxe. + </p> + <p> + Beside all these inner contrasts, the observer was particularly struck by + her sudden changes of humour, by the way in which, after a fit of + melancholy sadness, she suddenly gave way to the most exuberant gaiety, + followed by long fits of depression and nervous exhaustion. Personally, I + do not believe much in the influence of the physical over the moral + nature, but I am fully convinced of the action of the moral over the + physical nature. In certain cases and in presence of extremely accentuated + conditions, physiological explanations must be taken into account. All + these fits of melancholy and weeping, this prostration, these high spirits + and the long walks, in order to sober down, denote the exigencies of an + abnormal temperament. When once the crisis was passed, it must not be + supposed that, as with many other people, nothing remained of it all. This + was by no means the case, as in a nature so extraordinarily organized for + storing up sensations nothing was lost, nothing evaporated, and everything + increased. The still water seemed to be slumbering. Its violence, though + held in check, was increasing in force, and when once let loose, it would + carry all before it. + </p> + <p> + Such was the woman whom Casimir Dudevant was to marry. The fascination was + great; the honour rather to be feared, for all depended on his skill in + guiding this powerful energy. + </p> + <p> + The question is whether he loved her. It has been said that it was a + marriage of interest, as Aurore's fortune amounted to twenty thousand + pounds, and he was by no means rich. This may have been so, but there is + no reason why money should destroy one's sentiments, and the fact that + Aurore had money was not likely to prevent Casimir from appreciating the + charms of a pretty girl. It seems, therefore, very probable that he loved + his young wife, at any rate as much as this Casimir was capable of loving + his wife. + </p> + <p> + The next question is whether she loved him. It has been said that she did, + simply because she declared that she did not. When, later on, after her + separation, she spoke of her marriage, all her later grievances were + probably in her mind. There are her earlier letters, though, which some + people consider a proof that she cared for Casimir, and there are also a + few words jotted down in her notebook. When her husband was absent, she + was anxious about him and feared that he had met with an accident. It + would be strange indeed if a girl of eighteen did not feel some affection + for the man who had been the first to make love to her, a man whom she had + married of her own free-will. It is rare for a woman to feel no kind of + attachment for her husband, but is that attachment love? When a young wife + complains of her husband, we hear in her reproaches the protest of her + offended dignity, of her humbled pride. When a woman loves her husband, + though, she does not reproach him, guilty though he may be, with having + humiliated and wounded her. What she has against him then, is that he has + broken her heart by his lack of love for her. This note and this accent + can never be mistaken, and never once do we find it with Aurore. We may + therefore conclude that she had never loved her husband. + </p> + <p> + Casimir did not know how to win her affection. He did not even realize + that he needed to win it. He was very much like all men. The idea never + occurs to them that, when once they are married, they have to win their + wife. + </p> + <p> + He was very much like all men. . . . That is the most faithful portrait + that can be traced of Casimir at this epoch. He had not as yet the vices + which developed in him later on. He had nothing to distinguish him from + the average man. He was selfish, without being disagreeable, rather idle, + rather incapable, rather vain and rather foolish. He was just an ordinary + man. The wife he had married, though, was not an ordinary woman. That was + their misfortune. As Emile Faguet has very wittily put it, "Monsieur + Dudevant, about whom she complained so much, seems to have had no other + fault than that of being merely an ordinary man, which, of course, is + unendurable to a superior woman. The situation was perhaps equally + unendurable for the man." This is quite right, for Casimir was very soon + considerably disconcerted. He was incapable of understanding her + psychology, and, as it seemed impossible to him that a woman was not his + inferior, he came to the logical conclusion that his wife was "idiotic." + This was precisely his expression, and at every opportunity he endeavoured + to crush her by his own superiority. All this seems to throw some light on + his character and also on the situation. Here was a man who had married + the future George Sand, and he complained, in all good faith, that his + wife was "idiotic"! + </p> + <p> + Certainly, on comparing the <i>Correspondance</i> with the <i>Histoire de + ma vie</i>, the difference of tone is most striking. The letters in which + Baronne Dudevant tells, day by day, of her home life are too enthusiastic + for the letters of an unhappy wife. There are receptions at Nohant, lively + dinners, singing and dancing. All this is, at any rate, the surface, but + gradually the misunderstandings are more pronounced, and the gulf widens. + </p> + <p> + There may have been a misunderstanding at the very beginning of their + married life, and Aurore may have had a surprise of the nature of the one + to which Jane de Simerose confesses in <i>L'Ami des femmes</i>. In an + unpublished letter written much later on, in the year 1843, from George + Sand to her half-brother Hippolyte Chatiron on the occasion of his + daughter's engagement, the following lines occur: "See that your + son-in-law is not brutal to your daughter the first night of their + marriage. . . . Men have no idea that this amusement of theirs is a + martyrdom for us. Tell him to sacrifice his own pleasure a little, and to + wait until he has taught his wife gradually to understand things and to be + willing. There is nothing so frightful as the horror, the suffering and + the disgust of a poor girl who knows nothing and who is suddenly violated + by a brute. We bring girls up as much as possible like saints, and then we + hand them over like fillies. If your son-in-law is an intelligent man and + if he really loves your daughter, he will understand his <i>role</i>, and + will not take it amiss that you should speak to him beforehand."(2) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (2) Communicated by M. S. Rocheblave. +</pre> + <p> + Is George Sand recalling here any hidden and painful memories? Casimir + had, at bottom, a certain brutality, which, later on, was very evident. + The question is whether he had shown proofs of it at a time when it would + have been wiser to have refrained. + </p> + <p> + However that may be, the fundamental disagreement of their natures was not + long in making itself felt between the husband and wife. He was + matter-of-fact, and she was romantic; he only believed in facts, and she + in ideas; he was of the earth, earthy, whilst she aspired to the + impossible. They had nothing to say to each other, and when two people + have nothing to say, and love does not fill up the silences, what torture + the daily <i>tete-a-tete</i> must be. Before they had been married two + years, they were bored to death. They blamed Nohant, but the fault was in + themselves. Nohant seemed unbearable to them, simply because they were + there alone with each other. They went to Plessis, perhaps in the hope + that the remembrance of the days of their engagement might have some + effect on them. It was there, in 1824, that the famous scene of the blow + took place. They were playing at a regular children's game in the park, + and throwing sand at each other. Casimir lost his patience and struck his + wife. It was certainly impolite, but Aurore did not appear to have been + very indignant with her husband at the time. Her grievances were quite of + another kind, less tangible and much more deeply felt. + </p> + <p> + From Plessis they went to Ormesson. We do not know what took place there, + but evidently something which made a deep impression morally, something + very serious. A few years later, referring to this stay at Ormesson, + George Sand wrote to one of her friends: "You pass by a wall and come to a + house. . . . If you are allowed to enter you will find a delightful + English garden, at the bottom of which is a spring of water hidden under a + kind of grotto. It is all very stiff and uninteresting, but it is very + lonely. I spent several months there, and it was there that I lost my + health, my confidence in the future, my gaiety and my happiness. It was + there that I felt, and very deeply too, my first approach of trouble. . . + ."(3) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (3) Extract from the unpublished letters of George Sand to + Dr. Emile Regnault. +</pre> + <p> + They left Ormesson for Paris, and Paris for Nohant, and after that, by way + of trying to shake off the dulness that was oppressing them, they had + recourse to the classical mode of diversion—a voyage. + </p> + <p> + They set off on the 5th of July, 1825, for that famous expedition to the + Pyrenees, which was to be so important a landmark in Aurore Dudevant's + history. On crossing the Pyrenees, the scenery, so new to her—or + rather the memory of which had been lying dormant in her mind since her + childhood—filled her with wild enthusiasm. This intense emotion + contributed to develop within her that sense of the picturesque which, + later on, was to add so considerably to her talent as a writer. She had + hitherto been living in the country of plains, the Ile-de-France and + Berry. The contrast made her realize all the beauties of nature, and, on + her return, she probably understood her own familiar scenery, and enjoyed + it all the more. She had hitherto appreciated it vaguely. Lamartine learnt + to love the severe scenery of Milly better on returning to it after the + softness of Italy. + </p> + <p> + The Pyrenees served, too, for Baronne Dudevant as the setting for an + episode which was unique in her sentimental life. + </p> + <p> + In the <i>Histoire de ma vie</i> there is an enigmatical page in which + George Sand has intentionally measured and veiled every expression. She + speaks of her moral solitude, which, at that time, was profound and + absolute, and she adds: "It would have been mortal to a tender mind and to + a girl in the flower of her youth, if it had not been filled with a dream + which had taken the importance of a great passion, not in my life, as I + had sacrificed my life to duty, but in my thoughts. I was in continual + correspondence with an absent person to whom I told all my thoughts, all + my dreams, who knew all my humble virtues, and who heard all my platonic + enthusiasm. This person was excellent in reality, but I attributed to him + more than all the perfections possible to human nature. I only saw this + man for a few days, and sometimes only for a few hours, in the course of a + year. He was as romantic, in his intercourse with me, as I was. + Consequently he did not cause me any scruples, either of religion or of + conscience. This man was the stay and consolation of my exile, as regards + the world of reality." It was this dream, as intense as any passion, that + we must study here. We must make the acquaintance of this excellent and + romantic man. + </p> + <p> + Aurelien de Seze was a young magistrate, a few years older than Aurore. He + was twenty-six years of age and she was twenty-one. He was the + great-nephew of the counsel who pleaded for Louis XVI. There was, + therefore, in his family a tradition of moral nobility, and the young man + had inherited this. He had met Aurore at Bordeaux and again at Cauterets. + They had visited the grottoes of Lourdes together. Aurelien had + appreciated the young wife's charm, although she had not attempted to + attract his attention, as she was not coquettish. She appreciated in him—all + that was so lacking in Casimir—culture of mind, seriousness of + character, discreet manners which people took at first for coldness, and a + somewhat dignified elegance. He was scrupulously honest, a magistrate of + the old school, sure of his principles and master of himself. It was, + probably, just that which appealed to the young wife, who was a true woman + and who had always wished to be dominated. When they met again at Breda, + they had an explanation. This was the "violent grief" of which George Sand + speaks. She was consoled by a friend, Zoe Leroy, who found a way of + calming this stormy soul. She came through this crisis crushed with + emotion and fatigue, but calm and joyful. They had vowed to love each + other, but to remain without reproach, and their vow was faithfully kept. + </p> + <p> + Aurore, therefore, had nothing with which to reproach herself, but with + her innate need of being frank, she considered it her duty to write a + letter to her husband, informing him of everything. This was the famous + letter of November 8, 1825. Later on, in 1836, when her case for + separation from her husband was being heard, a few fragments of it were + read by her husband's advocate with the idea of incriminating her. By way + of reply to this, George Sand's advocate read the entire letter in all its + eloquence and generosity. It was greeted by bursts of applause from the + audience. + </p> + <p> + All this is very satisfactory. It is exactly the situation of the Princess + of Cleves in Madame de Lafayette's novel. The Princess of Cleves + acknowledges to her husband the love she cannot help feeling for Monsieur + de Nemours, and asks for his help and advice as her natural protector. + This fine proceeding is usually admired, although it cost the life of the + Prince of Cleves, who died broken-hearted. Personally, I admire it too, + although at times I wonder whether we ought not rather to see in it an + unconscious suggestion of perversity. This confession of love to the + person who is being, as it were, robbed of that love, is in itself a kind + of secret pleasure. By speaking of the love, it becomes more real, we + bring it out to light instead of letting it die away in those hidden + depths within us, in which so many of the vague sentiments which we have + not cared to define, even to ourselves, die away. Many women have + preferred this more silent way, in which they alone have been the + sufferers. But such women are not the heroines of novels. No one has + appreciated their sacrifice, and they themselves could scarcely tell all + that it has cost them. + </p> + <p> + Aurelien de Seze had taken upon himself the <i>role</i> of confidant to + this soul that he had allotted to himself. He took his <i>role</i> very + seriously, as was his custom in all things. He became the young wife's + director in all matters of conscience. The letters which he wrote to her + have been preserved, and we know them by the extracts and the analysis + that Monsieur Rocheblave has given us and by his incisive commentaries of + them.(4) They are letters of guidance, spiritual letters. The laic + confessor endeavours, before all things, to calm the impatience of this + soul which is more and more ardent and more and more troubled every day. + He battles with her about her mania of philosophizing, her wish to sift + everything and to get to the bottom of everything. Strong in his own + calmness, he kept repeating to her in a hundred different ways the words: + "Be calm!" The advice was good; the only difficulty was the following of + the advice. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (4) "George Sand avant George Sand," by S. Rocheblave + (<i>Revue de Paris</i>, December 15, 1894). +</pre> + <p> + Gradually the professor lost his hold on his pupil, for it seems as though + Aurore were the first to tire. Aurelien finally began to doubt the + efficacy of his preaching. The usual fate of sentiments outside the common + order of things is that they last the length of time that a crisis of + enthusiasm lasts. The best thing that can happen then is that their nature + should not change, that they should not deteriorate, as is so often the + case. When they remain intact to the end, they leave behind them, in the + soul, a trail of light, a trail of cold, pure light. + </p> + <p> + The decline of this platonic <i>liaison</i> with Aurelien de Seze dates + from 1828. Some grave events were taking place at Nohant about this time. + For the last few years Casimir had fallen into the vices of certain + country squires, or so-called gentlemen farmers. He had taken to drink, in + company with Hippolyte Chatiron, and it seems that the intoxication + peculiar to the natives of Berry takes a heavy and not a gay form. He had + also taken to other bad habits, away from home at first, and later on + under the conjugal roof. He was particularly partial to the maid-servants, + and, the day following the birth of her daughter, Solange, Aurore had an + unpleasant surprise with regard to her husband. From that day forth, what + had hitherto been only a vague wish on her part became a fixed idea with + her, and she began to form plans. A certain incident served as a pretext. + When putting some papers in order, Aurore came upon her husband's will. It + was a mere diatribe, in which the future "deceased" gave utterance to all + his past grievances against his <i>idiotic</i> wife. Her mind was made up + irrevocably from this moment. She would have her freedom again; she would + go to Paris and spend three months out of six there. She had a young tutor + from the south of France, named Boucoiran, educating her children. This + Boucoiran needed to be taken to task constantly, and Baronne Dudevant did + not spare him.(5) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (5) An instance of her disposition for lecturing will be + seen in the following curious letter sent by George Sand to + her friend and neighbour, Adolphe Duplomb. This letter has + never been published before, and we owe our thanks for it to + Monsieur Charles Duplomb. + + <i>Nohant, July</i> 23,1830. + + "Are you so very much afraid of me, my poor Hydrogene? You + expect a good lecture and you will not expect in vain. Have + patience, though. Before giving you the dressing you + deserve, I want to tell you that I have not forgotten you, + and that I was very vexed on returning from Paris, to find + my great simpleton of a son gone. I am so used to seeing + your solemn face that I quite miss it. You have a great many + faults, but after all, you are a good sort, and in time you + will get reasonable. Try to remember occasionally, my dear + Plombeus, that you have friends. If I were your only + friend, that would be a great deal, as I am to be depended + on, and am always at my post as a friend, although I may not + be very tender. I am not very polite either, as I speak the + truth plainly. That is my characteristic, though. I am a + firm friend nevertheless, and to be depended on. Do not + forget what I have said now, as I shall not often repeat + this. Remember, too, that happiness in this world depends + on the interest and esteem that we inspire. I do not say + this to every one, as it would be impossible, but just to a + certain number of friends. It is impossible to find one's + happiness entirely in one's self, without being an egoist, + and I do not think so badly of you that I imagine you to be + one. A man whom no one cares for is wretched, and the man + who has friends is afraid of grieving them by behaving + badly. As Polyte says, all this is for the sake of letting + you know that you must do your best to behave well, if you + want to prove to me that you are not ungrateful for my + interest in you. You ought to get rid of the bad habit of + boasting that you have adopted through frequenting young men + as foolish as yourself. Do whatever your position and your + health allow you to do, provided that you do not compromise + the honour or the reputation of any one else. I do not see + that a young man is called upon to be as chaste as a nun. + But keep your good or bad luck in your love affairs to + yourself. Silly talk is always repeated, and it may chance + to get to the ears of sensible people who will disapprove. + Try, too, not to make so many plans, but to carry out just + one or two of them. You know that is why I quarrel with you + always. I should like to see more constancy in you. You + tell Hippolyte that you are very willing and courageous. As + to physical courage, of the kind that consists in enduring + illness and in not fearing death, I dare say you have that, + but I doubt very much whether you have the courage necessary + for sustained work, unless you have very much altered. + Everything fresh delights you, but after a little time you + only see the inconveniences of your position. You will + scarcely find anything without something that is annoying + and troublesome, but if you cannot learn to put up with + things you will never be a man. + + "This is the end of my sermon. I expect you have had enough + of it, especially as you are not accustomed to reading my + bad handwriting. I shall be glad to hear from you, but do + not consider your letter as a State affair, and do not + torment yourself to arrange well-turned phrases. I do not + care for such phrases at all. A letter is always good enough + when the writer expresses himself naturally, and says what + he thinks. Fine pages are all very well for the + schoolmaster, but I do not appreciate them at all. Promise + me to be reasonable, and to think of my sermons now and + then. That is all I ask. You may be very sure that if it + were not for my friendship for you I should not take the + trouble to lecture you. I should be afraid of annoying you + if it were not for that. As it is, I am sure that you are + not displeased to have my lectures, and that you understand + the feeling which dictates them. + + "Adieu, my dear Adolphe. Write to me often and tell me + always about your affairs. Take care of yourself, and try + to keep well; but if you should feel ill come back to your + native place. There will always be milk and syrup for you, + and you know that I am not a bad nurse. Every one wishes to + be remembered to you, and I send you my holy blessing. + + "AURORE D——" +</pre> + <p> + She considered him idle, and reproached him with his lack of dignity and + with making himself too familiar with his inferiors. She could not admit + this familiarity, although she was certainly a friend of the people and of + the peasants. Between sympathy and familiarity there was a distinction, + and Aurore took care not to forget this. There was always something of the + <i>grande dame</i> in her. Boucoiran was devoted, though, and she counted + on him for looking after her children, for keeping her strictly <i>au + courant</i>, and letting her know in case of illness. Perfectly easy on + this score, she could live in Paris on an income of sixty pounds by adding + to it what she could earn. + </p> + <p> + Casimir made no objections. All that happened later on in this existence, + which was from henceforth so stormy, happened with his knowledge and with + his consent. He was a poor sort of man. + </p> + <p> + Let us consider now, for a moment, Baronne Dudevant's impressions after + such a marriage. We will not speak of her sadness nor of her disgust. In a + union of this kind, how could the sacred and beneficial character of + marriage have appeared to her? A husband should be a companion. She never + knew the charm of true intimacy, nor the delight of thoughts shared with + another. A husband is the counsellor, the friend. When she needed counsel, + she was obliged to go elsewhere for it, and it was from another man that + guidance and encouragement came. A husband should be the head and, I do + not hesitate to say, the master. Life is a ceaseless struggle, and the man + who has taken upon himself the task of defending a family from all the + dangers which threaten its dissolution, from all the enemies which prowl + around it, can only succeed in his task of protector if he be invested + with just authority. Aurore had been treated brutally: that is not the + same thing as being dominated. The sensation which never left her was that + of an immense moral solitude. She could no longer dream in the Nohant + avenues, for the old trees had been lopped, and the mystery chased away. + She shut herself up in her grandmother's little boudoir, adjoining her + children's room, so that she could hear them breathing, and whilst Casimir + and Hippolyte were getting abominably intoxicated, she sat there thinking + things over, and gradually becoming so irritated that she felt the + rebellion within her gathering force. The matrimonial bond was a heavy + yoke to her. A Christian wife would have submitted to it and accepted it, + but the Christianity of Baronne Dudevant was nothing but religiosity. The + trials of life show up the insufficiency of religious sentiment which is + not accompanied by faith. Marriage, without love, friendship, confidence + and respect, was for Aurore merely a prison. She endeavoured to escape + from it, and when she succeeded she uttered a sigh of relief at her + deliverance. + </p> + <p> + Such, then, is the chapter of marriage in Baronne Dudevant's psychology. + It is a fine example of failure. The woman who had married badly now + remained an individual, instead of harmonizing and blending in a general + whole. This ill-assorted union merely accentuated and strengthened George + Sand's individualism. + </p> + <p> + Aurore Dudevant arrived in Paris the first week of the year 1831. The + woman who was rebellious to marriage was now in a city which had just had + a revolution. + </p> + <p> + The extraordinary effervescence of Paris in 1831 can readily be imagined. + There was tempest in the air, and this tempest was bound to break out here + or there, either immediately or in the near future, in an insurrection. + Every one was feverishly anxious to destroy everything, in order to create + all things anew. In everything, in art, ideas and even in costume, there + was the same explosion of indiscipline, the same triumph of + capriciousness. Every day some fresh system of government was born, some + new method of philosophy, an infallible receipt for bringing about + universal happiness, an unheard-of idea for manufacturing masterpieces, + some invention for dressing up and having a perpetual carnival in the + streets. The insurrection was permanent and masquerade a normal state. + Besides all this, there was a magnificent burst of youth and genius. + Victor Hugo, proud of having fought the battle of <i>Hernani</i>, was then + thinking of <i>Notre-Dame</i> and climbing up to it. Musset had just given + his <i>Contes d'Espagne el d'Italie</i>. Stendhal had published <i>Le + Rouge et le Noir</i>, and Balzac <i>La Peau de Chagrin</i>. The painters + of the day were Delacroix and Delaroche. Paganini was about to give his + first concert at the Opera. Such was Paris in all its impatience and + impertinence, in its confusion and its splendour immediately after the + Revolution. + </p> + <p> + The young wife, who had snapped her bonds asunder, breathed voluptuously + in this atmosphere. She was like a provincial woman enjoying Paris to the + full. She belonged to the romantic school, and was imbued with the + principle that an artist must see everything, know everything, and have + experienced himself all that he puts into his books. She found a little + group of her friends from Berry in Paris, among others Felix Pyat, Charles + Duvernet, Alphonse Fleury, Sandeau and de Latouche. This was the band she + frequented, young men apprenticed either to literature, the law, or + medicine. With them she lived a student's life. In order to facilitate her + various evolutions, she adopted masculine dress. In her <i>Histoite de ma + vie</i> she says: "Fashion helped me in my disguise, for men were wearing + long, square frock-coats styled a <i>la proprietaire</i>. They came down + to the heels, and fitted the figure so little that my brother, when + putting his on, said to me one day at Nohant: 'It is a nice cut, isn't it? + The tailor takes his measures from a sentry-box, and the coat then fits a + whole regiment.' I had 'a sentry-box coat' made, of rough grey cloth, with + trousers and waistcoat to match. With a grey hat and a huge cravat of + woollen material, I looked exactly like a first-year student. . . ." + </p> + <p> + Dressed in this style, she explored the streets, museums, cathedrals, + libraries, painters' studios, clubs and theatres. She heard Frederick + Lemaitre one day, and the next day Malibran. One evening it was one of + Dumas' pieces, and the next night <i>Moise</i> at the Opera. She took her + meals at a little restaurant, and she lived in an attic. She was not even + sure of being able to pay her tailor, so she had all the joys possible. + "Ah, how delightful, to live an artist's life! Our device is liberty!" she + wrote.(6) She lived in a perpetual state of delight, and, in February, + wrote to her son Maurice as follows: "Every one is at loggerheads, we are + crushed to death in the streets, the churches are being destroyed, and we + hear the drum being beaten all night."(7) In March she wrote to Charles + Duvernet: "Do you know that fine things are happening here? It really is + amusing to see. We are living just as gaily among bayonets and riots as if + everything were at peace. All this amuses me."(8) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (6) <i>Correspondance</i>: To Boucoiran, March 4, 1831. + + (7) <i>Ibid</i>. To Maurice Dudevant, February 15, 1831. + + (8) <i>Ibid</i>. To Charles Duvernet, March 6, 1831. +</pre> + <p> + She was amused at everything and she enjoyed everything. With her keen + sensitiveness, she revelled in the charm of Paris, and she thoroughly + appreciated its scenery. + </p> + <p> + "Paris," she wrote, "with its vaporous evenings, its pink clouds above the + roofs, and the beautiful willows of such a delicate green around the + bronze statue of our old Henry, and then, too, the dear little + slate-coloured pigeons that make their nests in the old masks of the Pont + Neuf . . ."(9) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (9) Unpublished letters of Dr. Emile Regnault. +</pre> + <p> + She loved the Paris sky, so strange-looking, so rich in colouring, so + variable.(10) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (10) <i>Ibid</i>. +</pre> + <p> + She became unjust with regard to Berry. "As for that part of the world + which I used to love so dearly and where I used to dream my dreams," she + wrote, "I was there at the age of fifteen, when I was very foolish, and at + the age of seventeen, when I was dreamy and disturbed in my mind. It has + lost its charm for me now."(11) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (11) <i>Ibid</i>. +</pre> + <p> + She loved it again later on, certainly, but just at this time she was + over-excited with the joy of her newly-found liberty. It was that really + which made her so joyful and which intoxicated her. "I do not want + society, excitement, theatres, or dress; what I want is freedom," she + wrote to her mother. In another letter she says: "I am absolutely + independent. I go to La Chatre, to Rome. I start out at ten o'clock or at + midnight. I please myself entirely in all this."(12) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (12) <i>Correspondance</i>: To her mother, May 31, 1831. +</pre> + <p> + She was free, and she fancied she was happy. Her happiness at that epoch + meant Jules Sandeau. + </p> + <p> + In a letter, written in the humoristic style in which she delighted, she + gives us portraits of some of her comrades of that time. She tells us of + Duvernet, of Alphonse Fleury, surnamed "the Gaulois," and of Sandeau. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, fair-haired Charles!" she writes, "young man of melancholy thoughts, + with a character as gloomy as a stormy day. . . . And you, gigantic + Fleury, with your immense hands and your alarming beard. . . . And you, + dear Sandeau, agreeable and light, like the humming bird of fragrant + savannahs!"(13) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (13) <i>Correspondance</i>: December 1, 1830. +</pre> + <p> + The "dear Sandeau, agreeable and light, like the humming bird of fragrant + savannahs," was to be Baronne Dudevant's Latin Quarter <i>liaison</i>. Her + biographers usually pass over this <i>liaison</i> quickly, as information + about it was not forthcoming. Important documents exist, though, in the + form of fifty letters written by George Sand to Dr. Emile Regnault, then a + medical student and the intimate friend and confidant of Jules Sandeau, + who kept nothing back from him. His son, Dr. Paul Regnault, has kindly + allowed me to see this correspondence and to reproduce some fragments of + it. It is extremely curious, by turn lyrical and playful, full of + effusions, ideas, plans of work, impressions of nature, and confidences + about her love affairs. Taken altogether it reflects, as nearly as + possible, the state of the young woman's mind at this time. + </p> + <p> + The first letter is dated April, 1831. George Sand had left Paris for + Nohant, and is anxiously wondering how her poor Jules has passed this + wretched day, and how he will go back to the room from which she had torn + herself with such difficulty that morning. In her letter she gives + utterance to the gratitude she owes to the young man who has reconciled + her once more to life. "My soul," she says, "eager itself for affection, + needed to inspire this in a heart capable of understanding me thoroughly, + with all my faults and qualities. A fervent soul was necessary for loving + me in the way that I could love, and for consoling me after all the + ingratitude which had made my earlier life so desolate. And although I am + now old, I have found a heart as young as my own, a lifelong affection + which nothing can discourage and which grows stronger every day. Jules has + taught me to care once more for this existence, of which I was so weary, + and which I only endured for the sake of my children. I was disgusted + beforehand with the future, but it now seems more beautiful to me, full as + it appears to me of him, of his work, his success, and of his upright, + modest conduct. . . . Oh, if you only knew how I love him! . . . ."(14) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (14) This quotation and those that follow are borrowed from + the unpublished correspondence with Emile Regnault. +</pre> + <p> + "When I first knew him I was disillusioned about everything, and I no + longer believed in those things which make us happy. He has warmed my + frozen heart and restored the life that was dying within me." She then + recalls their first meeting. It was in the country, at Coudray, near + Nohant. She fell in love with her dear Sandeau, thanks to his + youthfulness, his timidity and his awkwardness. He was just twenty, in + 1831. On approaching the bench where she was awaiting him, "he concealed + himself in a neighbouring avenue—and I could see his hat and stick + on the bench," she writes. "Everything, even to the little red ribbon + threaded in the lining of his grey hat, thrilled me with joy. . . ." + </p> + <p> + It is difficult to say why, but everything connected with this young Jules + seems absurd. Later on we get the following statement: "Until the day when + I told him that I loved him, I had never acknowledged as much to myself. I + felt that I did, but I would not own it even to my own heart. Jules + therefore learnt it at the same time as I did myself." + </p> + <p> + People at La Chatre took the young man for her lover. The idea of finding + him again in Paris was probably one of her reasons for wishing to + establish herself there. Then came her life, as she describes it herself, + "in the little room looking on to the quay. I can see Jules now in a + shabby, dirty-looking artist's frock-coat, with his cravat underneath him + and his shirt open at the throat, stretched out over three chairs, + stamping with his feet or breaking the tongs in the heat of the + discussion. The Gaulois used to sit in a corner weaving great plots, and + you would be seated on a table." + </p> + <p> + All this must certainly have been charming. The room was too small, + though, and George Sand commissioned Emile Regnault to find her a flat, + the essential condition of which should be some way of egress for Jules at + any hour. + </p> + <p> + A little flat was discovered on the Quay St. Michel. There were three + rooms, one of which could be reserved. "This shall be the dark room," + wrote George Sand, "the mysterious room, the ghost's retreat, the + monster's den, the cage of the performing animal, the hiding-place for the + treasure, the vampire's cave, or whatever you like to call it. . . ." + </p> + <p> + In plainer language, it was Jules' room; and then follows some touching + eloquence about the dear boy she worshipped who loved her so dearly. + </p> + <p> + This is the beginning of things, but later on the tone of the + correspondence changes. The letters become less frequent, and are also not + so gay. George Sand speaks much less of Jules in them and much more of + little Solange, whom she intended to bring back to Paris with her. She is + beginning to weary of Jules and to esteem him at his true value. He is + lazy, and has fits of depression and all the capriciousness of a spoilt + child. She has had enough of him, and then, too, it is very evident from + the letters that there has been some division among the lively friends who + had sworn to be comrades for life. There are explanations and + justifications. George Sand discovers that there are certain + inconveniences connected with intimacies in which there is such + disproportion of age and of social position. Finally there are the + following desperate letters, written in fits of irritation: "My dear + friend, go to Jules and look after him. He is broken-hearted, and you can + do nothing for him in that respect. It is no use trying. I do not ask you + to come to me yet, as I do not need anything. I would rather be alone + to-day. Then, too, there is nothing left for me in life. It will be + horrible for him for a long time, but he is so young. The day will come, + perhaps, when he will not be sorry to have lived. . . . Do not attempt to + put matters right, as this time there is no remedy. We do not blame each + other at all, and for some time we have been struggling against this + horrible necessity. We have had trouble enough. There seemed to be nothing + left but to put an end to our lives, and if it had not been for my + children, we should have done this." + </p> + <p> + The question is, Was George Sand blameless in the matter? It appears that + she had discovered that her dear Jules was faithless to her, and that, + during her absence, he had deceived her. She would not forgive him, but + sent him off to Italy, and refused to see him again. The last of these + letters is dated June 15, 1833. + </p> + <p> + "I shall make a parcel of a few of Jules' things that he left in the + wardrobe," she says, "and I will send them to you. I do not want anything + to do with him when he comes back, and, according to the last words of the + letter you showed me, his return may be soon. For a long time I have been + very much hurt by the discoveries I made with regard to his conduct, and I + could not feel anything else for him now but affectionate compassion. His + pride, I hope, would refuse this. Make him clearly understand, if + necessary, that there can never be anything more between us. If this hard + task should not be necessary, that is, if Jules should himself understand + that it could not be otherwise, spare him the sorrow of hearing that he + has lost everything, even my respect. He must undoubtedly have lost his + own self-esteem, so that he is punished enough." + </p> + <p> + Thus ended this great passion. This was the first of George Sand's errors, + and it certainly was an immense one. She had imagined that happiness + reigns in students' rooms. She had counted on the passing fancy of a young + man of good family, who had come to Paris to sow his wild oats, for giving + her fresh zest and for carving out for herself a fresh future. It was a + most commonplace adventure, utterly destitute of psychology, and by its + very bitterness it contrasted strangely with her elevated sentimental + romance with Aurelien de Seze. That was the quintessence of refinement. + All that is interesting about this second adventure is the proof that it + gives us of George Sand's wonderful illusions, of the intensity of the + mirage of which she was a dupe, and of which we have so many instances in + her life. + </p> + <p> + Baronne Dudevant had tried conjugal life, and she had now tried free love. + She had been unsuccessful in both instances. It is to these adventures + though, to these trials, errors and disappointments that we owe the writer + we are about to study. George Sand was now born to literature. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <h3> + A FEMINIST OF 1832 + </h3> + <p> + THE FIRST NOVELS AND THE QUESTION OF MARRIAGE + </p> + <p> + When Baronne Dudevant arrived in Paris, in 1831, her intention was to earn + her living with her pen. She never really counted seriously on the income + she might make by her talent for painting flowers on snuff-boxes and + ornamenting cigar-cases with water-colours. She arrived from her province + with the intention of becoming a writer. Like most authors who commence, + she first tried journalism. On the 4th of March, she wrote as follows to + the faithful Boucoiran: "In the meantime I must live, and for the sake of + that, I have taken up the worst of trades: I am writing articles for the + <i>Figaro</i>. If only you knew what that means! They are paid for, + though, at the rate of seven francs a column." + </p> + <p> + She evidently found it worth while to write for the <i>Figaro</i>, which + at that time was quite a small newspaper, managed by Henri de Latouche, + who also came from Berry. He was a very second-rate writer himself, and a + poet with very little talent but, at any rate, he appreciated and + discovered talent in others. He published Andre Chenier's first writings, + and he introduced George Sand to the public. His new apprentice was placed + at one of the little tables at which the various parts of the paper were + manufactured. Unfortunately she had not the vocation for this work. The + first principle with regard to newspaper articles is to make them short. + When Aurore had come to the end of her paper, she had not yet commenced + her subject. It was no use attempting to continue, so she gave up "the + worst of trades," lucrative though it might be. + </p> + <p> + She could not help knowing, though, that she had the gift of writing. She + had inherited it from her ancestors, and this is the blest part of her + atavism. No matter how far back we go, and in every branch of her + genealogical tree, there is artistic heredity to be found. Maurice de Saxe + wrote his <i>Reveries</i>. This was a fine book for a soldier to write, + and for that alone he would deserve praise, even if he had not beaten the + English so gloriously. Mademoiselle Verrieres was an actress and Dupin de + Francueil a dilettante. Aurore's grandmother, Marie-Aurore, was very + musical, she sang operatic songs, and collected extracts from the + philosophers. Maurice Dupin was devoted to music and to the theatre. Even + Sophie-Victoire had an innate appreciation of beauty. She not only wept, + like Margot, at melodrama, but she noticed the pink of a cloud, the mauve + of a flower, and, what was more important, she called her little + daughter's attention to such things. This illiterate mother had therefore + had some influence on Aurore and on her taste for literature. + </p> + <p> + It is not enough to say that George Sand was a born writer. She was a born + novelist, and she belonged to a certain category of novelists. She had + been created by a special decree of Providence to write her own romances, + and not others. It is this which makes the history of the far-back origins + of her literary vocation so interesting. It is extremely curious to see, + from her earliest childhood, the promises of those faculties which were to + become the very essence of her talent. When she was only three years old, + her mother used to put her between four chairs in order to keep her still. + By way of enlivening her captivity, she tells us what she did. + </p> + <p> + "I used to make up endless stories, which my mother styled my novels. . . + . I told these stories aloud, and my mother declared that they were most + tiresome on account of their length and of the development I gave to my + digressions. . . . There were very few bad people in them, and never any + serious troubles. Everything was always arranged satisfactorily, thanks to + my lively, optimistic ideas. . . ." + </p> + <p> + She had already commenced, then, at the age of three, and these early + stories are the precursors of the novels of her maturity. They are + optimistic, drawn out, and with long digressions. Something similar is + told about Walter Scott. There is evidently a primordial instinct in those + who are born story-tellers, and this urges them on to invent fine stories + for amusing themselves. + </p> + <p> + A little later on we have another phenomenon, almost as curious, with + regard to Aurore. We are apt to wonder how certain descriptive writers + proceed in order to give us pictures, the various features of which stand + out in such intense relief that they appear absolutely real to us. George + Sand tells us that when Berquin's stories were being read to her at + Nohant, she used to sit in front of the fire, from which she was protected + by an old green silk screen. She used gradually to lose the sense of the + phrases, but pictures began to form themselves in front of her on the + green screen. + </p> + <p> + "I saw woods, meadows, rivers, towns of strange and gigantic architecture. + . . . One day these apparitions were so real that I was startled by them, + and I asked my mother whether she could see them." + </p> + <p> + With hallucinations like these a writer can be picturesque. He has in + front of him, although it may be between four walls, a complete landscape. + He has only to follow the lines of it and to reproduce the colours, so + that in painting imaginary landscapes he can paint them from nature, from + this model that appears to him, as though by enchantment. He can, if he + likes, count the leaves of the trees and listen to the sound of the + growing grass. + </p> + <p> + Still later on, vague religious or philosophical conceptions began to + mingle with the fiction that Aurore always had in her mind. To her + poetical life, was added a moral life. She always had a romance going on, + to which she was constantly adding another chapter, like so many links in + a never-ending chain. She now gave a hero to her romance, a hero whose + name was Corambe. He was her ideal, a man whom she had made her god. + Whilst blood was flowing freely on the altars of barbarous gods, on + Corambe's altar life and liberty were given to a whole crowd of captive + creatures, to a swallow, to a robin-redbreast, and even to a sparrow. We + see already in all this her tendency to put moral intentions into her + romantic stories, to arrange her adventures in such a way that they should + serve as examples for making mankind better. These were the novels, with a + purpose, of her twelfth year. + </p> + <p> + Let us now study a striking contrast, by way of observing the first signs + of vocation in two totally different novelists. In the beginning of <i>Facino + Cane</i>, Balzac tells us an incident of the time when, as an aspiring + writer, he lived in his attic in the Rue Lesdiguieres. One evening, on + coming out of the theatre, he amused himself with following a working-man + and his wife from the Boulevard du Pontaux-Choux to the Boulevard + Beaumarchais. He listened to them as they talked of the piece they had + just seen. They then discussed their business matters, and afterwards + house and family affairs. "While listening to this couple," says Balzac, + "I entered into their life. I could feel their clothes on my back and, I + was walking in their shabby boots." + </p> + <p> + This is the novelist of the objective school, the one who comes out of + himself, who ceases to be himself and becomes another person. + </p> + <p> + Instead of this exterior world, to which Balzac adapts himself, Aurore + talks to us of an inner world, emanating from her own fancy, the + reflection of her own imagination, the echo of her own heart, which is + really herself. This explains the difference between Balzac's impersonal + novel and George Sand's personal novel. It is just the difference between + realistic art, which gives way to the object, and idealistic art, which + transforms this according to its own will and pleasure. + </p> + <p> + Up to this time George Sand's ideas had not been put on to paper. Both <i>Corambe</i> + and the stories composed between four chairs were merely fancies of a + child's mind. Aurore soon began to write, though. She had composed two + novels while in the convent, one of which was religious and the other a + pastoral story. She was wise enough to tear them both up. On leaving the + convent she wrote another novel for Rene' de Villeneuve, and this shared + the same fate. In 1827, she wrote her <i>Voyage en Auvergne</i>, and in + 1829, another novel. In her <i>Histoire de ma vie</i> she says of this: + "After reading it, I was convinced that it was of no value, but at the + same time I was sure I could write a better one. . . . I saw that I could + write quickly and easily, and without feeling any fatigue. The ideas that + were lying dormant in my mind were quickened and became connected, by my + deductions, as I wrote. With my meditative life, I had observed a great + deal, and had understood the various characters which Fate had put in my + way, so that I really knew enough of human nature to be able to depict + it." She now had that facility, that abundance of matter and that + nonchalance which were such characteristic features of her writing. + </p> + <p> + When George Sand began to publish, she had already written a great deal. + Her literary formation was complete. We notice this same thing whenever we + study the early work of a writer. Genius is revealed to us, perhaps, with + a sudden flash, but it has been making its way for a long time + underground, so that what we take for a spontaneous burst of genius is + nothing but the final effort of a sap which has been slowly accumulating + and which from henceforth is all-powerful. + </p> + <p> + George Sand had to go through the inevitable period of feeling her way. We + are glad to think that the first book she published was not written by + herself alone, so that the responsibility of that execrable novel does not + lie solely with her. + </p> + <p> + On the 9th of March, 1831, George Sand wrote to Boucoiran as follows: + "Monstrosities are in vogue, so we must invent monstrosities. I am + bringing forth a very pleasant one just at present. . . ." This was the + novel written in collaboration with Sandeau which appeared under the + signature of Jules Sand towards the end of 1831. It was entitled, <i>Rose + et Blanche, ou la Comedienne et la Religieuse</i>. + </p> + <p> + It begins by a scene in a coach, rather like certain novels by Balzac, but + accompanied by insignificant details in the worst taste imaginable. Two + girls are travelling in the same coach. Rose is a young comedian, and + Sister Blanche is about to become a nun. They separate at Tarbes, and the + scene of the story is laid in the region of the Pyrenees, in Tarbes Auch, + Nerac, the Landes, and finishes with the return to Paris. Rose, after an + entertainment which is a veritable orgy, is handed over by her mother to a + licentious young man. He is ashamed of himself, and, instead of leading + Rose astray, he takes her to the Convent of the Augustines, where she + finds Sister Blanche once more. Sister Blanche has not yet pronounced her + vows, and the proof of this is that she marries Horace. But what a + wedding! As a matter of fact, Sister Blanche was formerly named Denise. + She was the daughter of a seafaring man of Bordeaux, and was both pretty + and foolish. She had been dishonoured by the young libertine whom she is + now to marry. The memory of the past comes back to Blanche, and makes her + live over again her life as Denise. In the mean time Rose had become a + great singer. She now arrives, just in time to be present at her friend's + deathbed. She enters the convent herself, and takes the place left vacant + by Sister Blanche. The whole of this is absurd and frequently very + disagreeable. + </p> + <p> + It is quite easy to distinguish the parts due to the two collaborators, + and to see that George Sand wrote nearly all the book. There are the + landscapes, Tarbes Auch, Nerac, the Landes, and a number of recollections + of the famous journey to the Pyrenees and of her stay at Guillery with the + Dudevant family. The Convent of the Augustines in Paris, with its English + nuns and its boarders belonging to the best families, is the one in which + Aurore spent three years. The cloister can be recognized, the garden + planted with chestnut trees, and the cell from which there was a view over + the city. All her dreams seemed so near Heaven there, for the rich, cloudy + sky was so near—"that most beautiful and ever-changing sky, perhaps + the most beautiful in the world," of which we read in <i>Rose et Blanche</i>. + But together with this romance of religious life is a libertine novel with + stories of orgies, of a certain private house, and of very risky and + unpleasant episodes. This is the collaborator's share in the work. The + risky parts are Sandeau's. + </p> + <p> + Such, then, is this hybrid composition. It was, in reality, the + monstrosity announced by George Sand. + </p> + <p> + It had a certain success, but the person who was most severe in her + judgment of it was Sophie-Victoire, George Sand's mother, who had very + prudish tastes in literature. This woman is perfectly delightful, and + every time we come across her it is a fresh joy. Her daughter was obliged + to make some excuse for herself, and this she did by stating that the work + was not entirely her own. + </p> + <p> + "I do not approve of a great deal of the nonsense," she writes, "and I + only let certain things pass to please my publisher, who wanted something + rather lively. . . . I do not like the risky parts myself. . . ." Later on + in the same letter, she adds: "There is nothing of the kind in the book I + am writing now, and I am using nothing of my collaborator's in this, + except his name."(15) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (15) <i>Correspondance</i>: To her mother, February 22, 1832. +</pre> + <p> + This was true. Jules Sand had had his day, and the book of which she now + speaks was <i>Indiana</i>. She signed this "George Sand." + </p> + <p> + The unpublished correspondence with Emile Regnault, some fragments of + which we have just read, contains a most interesting letter concerning the + composition of <i>Indiana</i>. It is dated February 28, 1832. George Sand + first insists on the severity of the subject and on its resemblance to + life. "It is as simple, as natural and as positive as you could wish," she + says. "It is neither romantic, mosaic, nor frantic. It is just ordinary + life of the most <i>bourgeois</i> kind, but unfortunately this is much + more difficult than exaggerated literature. . . . There is not the least + word put in for nothing, not a single description, not a vestige of + poetry. There are no unexpected, extraordinary, or amazing situations, but + merely four volumes on four characters. With only just these characters, + that is, with hidden feelings, everyday thoughts, with friendship, love, + selfishness, devotion, self-respect, persistency, melancholy, sorrow, + ingratitude, disappointment, hope, and all the mixed-up medley of the + human mind, is it possible to write four volumes which will not bore + people? I am afraid of boring people, of boring them as life itself does. + And yet what is more interesting than the history of the heart, when it is + a true history? The main thing is to write true history, and it is just + that which is so difficult. . . ." + </p> + <p> + This declaration is rather surprising to any one who reads it to-day. We + might ask whether what was natural in 1832 would be natural in 1910? That + is not the question which concerns us, though. The important fact to note + is that George Sand was no longer attempting to manufacture monstrosities. + She was endeavouring to be true, and she wanted above everything else to + present a character of woman who would be the typical modern woman. + </p> + <p> + "Noemi (this name was afterwards left to Sandeau, who had used it in <i>Marianna</i>. + George Sand changed it to that of <i>Indiana</i>) is a typical woman, + strong and weak, tired even by the weight of the air, but capable of + holding up the sky; timid in everyday life, but daring in days of battle; + shrewd and clever in seizing the loose threads of ordinary life, but silly + and stupid in distinguishing her own interests when it is a question of + her happiness; caring little for the world at large, but allowing herself + to be duped by one man; not troubling much about her own dignity, but + watching over that of the object of her choice; despising the vanities of + the times as far as she is concerned, but allowing herself to be + fascinated by the man who is full of these vanities. This, I believe," she + says, "is the usual woman, an extraordinary mixture of weakness and + energy, of grandeur and of littleness, a being ever composed of two + opposite natures, at times sublime and at times despicable, clever in + deceiving and easily deceived herself." + </p> + <p> + This novel, intended to present to us the modern woman, ought to be styled + a "feminist novel." It was also, as regards other points of view. <i>Indiana</i> + appeared in May, 1832, <i>Valentine</i> in 1833, and <i>Jacques</i> in + 1834. In these three books I should like to show our present feminism, + already armed, and introduced to us according to George Sand's early + ideas. + </p> + <p> + <i>Indiana</i> is the story of a woman who had made an unfortunate + marriage. At the age of nineteen she had married Colonel Delmare. Colonels + were very much in vogue in those days, and the fact that he had attained + that rank proves that he was much older than she was. Colonel Delmare was + an honest, straightforward man in the Pharisaical sense of the word. This + simply means that he had never robbed or killed any one. He had no + delicacy and no charm, and, fond as he was of his own authority, he was a + domestic tyrant. Indiana was very unhappy between this execrable husband + and a cousin of hers, Ralph, a man who is twice over English, in the first + place because his name is Brown, and then because he is phlegmatic. Ralph + is delightful and most excellent, and it is on his account that she is + insensible to the charms of Raymon de Ramieres an elegant and + distinguished young man who is a veritable lady-killer. + </p> + <p> + Space forbids us to go into all the episodes of this story, but the crisis + is that Colonel Delmare is ruined, and his business affairs call him to + the Isle of Bourbon. He intends to take Indiana with him, but she refuses + to accompany him. She knows quite well that Raymon will do all he can to + prevent her going. She hurries away to him, offers herself to him, and + volunteers to remain with him always. It is unnecessary to give Raymon's + reply to this charming proposal. Poor Indiana receives a very wet blanket + on a cold winter's night. + </p> + <p> + She therefore starts for the Isle of Bourbon, and, some time after her + arrival there, she gets a letter from Raymon which makes her think that he + is very unhappy. She accordingly hastens back to him, but is received by + the young wife whom Raymon has just married. It is a very brilliant + marriage, and Raymon could not have hoped for anything more satisfactory. + Poor Indiana! The Seine, however, is quite near, and she throws herself + into it. This was quite safe, as Ralph was there to fish her out again. + Ralph was always at hand to fish his cousin out of everything. He is her + appointed rescuer, her Newfoundland dog. In the country or in the town, on + <i>terra firma</i> or on the boat which takes Indiana to the Isle of + Bourbon, we always see Ralph turn up, phlegmatic as usual. Unnecessary to + say that Ralph is in love with Indiana. His apparent calmness is put on + purposely. It is the snowy covering under which a volcano is burning. His + awkward and unprepossessing appearance conceals an exquisite soul. Ralph + brings Indiana good news. Colonel Delmare is dead, so that she is free. + What will she do now with her liberty? After due deliberation, Ralph and + Indiana decide to commit suicide, but they have to agree about the kind of + death they will die. Ralph considers that this is a matter of certain + importance. He does not care to kill himself in Paris; there are too many + people about, so that there is no tranquillity. The Isle of Bourbon seems + to him a pleasant place for a suicide. There was a magnificent horizon + there; then, too, there was a precipice and a waterfall. . . . + </p> + <p> + Ralph's happy ideas are somewhat sinister, but the couple set out + nevertheless for the Isle of Bourbon in search of a propitious waterfall. + A sea-voyage, under such circumstances, would be an excellent preparation. + When once there, they carry out their plans, and Ralph gives his beloved + wise advice at the last moment. She must not jump from the side, as that + would be bad. "Throw yourself into the white line that the waterfall + makes," he says. "You will then reach the lake with that, and the torrent + will plunge you in." This sounds enticing. + </p> + <p> + Such a suicide was considered infinitely poetical at that epoch, and every + one pitied Indiana in her troubles. It is curious to read such books + calmly a long time afterwards, books which reflect so exactly the + sentiments of a certain epoch. It is curious to note how the point of view + has changed, and how people and things appear to us exactly the reverse of + what they appeared to the author and to contemporaries. + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact, the only interesting person in all this is Colonel + Delmare, or, at any rate, he is the only one of whom Indiana could not + complain. He loved her, and he loved no one else but her. The like cannot + be said for Indiana. Few husbands would imitate his patience and + forbearance, and he certainly allowed his wife the most extraordinary + freedom. At one time we find, a young man in Indiana's bedroom, and at + another time Indiana in a young man's bedroom. Colonel Delmare receives + Raymon at his house in a friendly way, and he tolerates the presence of + the sempiternal Ralph in his home. What more can be asked of a husband + than to allow his wife to have a man friend and a cousin? Indiana declares + that Colonel Delmare has struck her, and that the mark is left on her + face. She exaggerated, though, as we know quite well what took place. In + reality all this was at Plessis-Picard. Delmare-Dudevant struck + Indiana-Aurore. This was certainly too much, but there was no blood shed. + As to the other personages, Raymon is a wretched little rascal, who was + first the lover of Indiana's maid. He next made love to poor Noun's + mistress, and then deserted her to make a rich marriage. Ralph plunges + Indiana down a precipice. That was certainly bad treatment for the woman + he loved. As regards Indiana, George Sand honestly believed that she had + given her all the charms imaginable. As a matter of fact, she did charm + the readers of that time. It is from this model that we have one of the + favourite types of woman in literature for the next twenty years—the + misunderstood woman. + </p> + <p> + The misunderstood woman is pale, fragile, and subject to fainting. Up to + page 99 of the book, Indiana has fainted three times. I did not continue + counting. This fainting was not the result of bad health. It was the + fashion to faint. The days of nerves and languid airs had come back. The + women whose grandmothers had walked so firmly to the scaffold, and whose + mothers had listened bravely to the firing of the cannon under the Empire, + were now depressed and tearful, like so many plaintive elegies. It was + just a matter of fashion. The misunderstood woman was supposed to be + unhappy with her husband, but she would not have been any happier with + another man. Indiana does not find fault with Colonel Delmare for being + the husband that he is, but simply for being the husband! + </p> + <p> + "She did not love her husband, for the mere reason, perhaps, that she was + told it was her duty to love him and that it had become her second nature, + a principle and a law of her conscience to resist inwardly all moral + constraint." She affected a most irritating gentleness, an exasperating + submissiveness. When she put on her superior, resigned airs, it was enough + to unhinge an angel. Besides, what was there to complain about, and why + should she not accommodate herself to conditions of existence with which + so many others fall in? She must not be compared to others, though. She is + eminently a distinguished woman, and she asks without shrinking: "Do you + know what it means to love a woman such as I am?" + </p> + <p> + In her long silences and her persistent melancholy, she is no doubt + thinking of the love appropriate to a woman such as she is. She was a + princess in exile and times were then hard for princesses. That is why the + one in question took refuge in her homesick sorrow. All this is what + people will not understand. Instead of rising to such sublimities, or of + being lost in fogs, they judge from mere facts. And on coming across a + young wife who is inclined to prefer a handsome, dark young man to a + husband who is turning grey, they are apt to conclude: "Well, this is not + the first time we have met with a similar case. It is hardly worth while + making such a fuss about a young plague of a woman who wants to go to the + bad." It would be very unjust, though, not to recognize that <i>Indiana</i> + is a most remarkable novel. There is a certain relief in the various + characters, Colonel Delmare, Raymon, Ralph and Inaiana. We ought to + question the husbands who married wives belonging to the race of + misunderstood women brought into vogue by <i>Indiana</i>. + </p> + <p> + <i>Valentine</i>, too, is the story of a woman unhappily married. + </p> + <p> + This time the chief <i>role</i> is given to the lover, and not to the + woman. Instead of the misunderstood woman, though, we have the typical + frenzied lover, created by the romantic school. Louise-Valentine de + Raimbault is about to marry Norbert-Evariste de Lansac, when suddenly this + young person, who is accustomed to going about in the country round and to + the village fetes, falls in love with the nephew of one of her farmers. + The young man's name is Benedict, and he is a peasant who has had some + education. His mentality is probably that of a present-day elementary + school-teacher. Valentine cannot resist him, although we are told that + Benedict is not very handsome. It is his soul which Valentine loves in + him. Benedict knows very well that he cannot marry Valentine, but he can + cause her a great deal of annoyance by way of proving his love. On the + night of the wedding he is in the nuptial chamber, from which the author + has taken care to banish the husband for the time being. Benedict watches + over the slumber of the woman he loves, and leaves her an epistle in which + he declares that, after hesitating whether he should kill her husband, + her, or himself, or whether he should kill all three, or only select two + of the three, and after adopting in turn each of these combinations, he + has decided to only kill himself. He is found in a ditch in a terrible + plight, but we are by no means rid of him. Benedict is not dead, and he + has a great deal of harm to do yet. We shall meet with him again several + times, always hidden behind curtains, listening to all that is said and + watching all that takes place. At the right moment he comes out with his + pistol in his hand. The husband is away during all this time. No one + troubles about him, though. He is a bad husband, or rather he is—a + husband, and Benedict has nothing to fear as far as he is concerned. But + one day a peasant, who does not like the looks of Benedict, attacks him + with his pitchfork and puts an end to this valuable life. + </p> + <p> + The question arises, by what right Benedict disturbs Valentine's + tranquillity. The answer is by the right of his passion for her. He has an + income of about twenty pounds a year. It would be impossible for him to + marry on that. What has he to offer to the woman whose peace of mind he + disturbs and whose position he ruins? He offers himself. Surely that + should be enough. Then, too, it is impossible to reason with individuals + of his temperament. We have only to look at him, with his sickly pallor + and the restless light in his eyes. We have only to listen to the sound of + his voice and his excited speeches. At times he goes in for wild + declamation, and immediately afterwards for cold irony and sarcasm. He is + always talking of death. When he attempts to shoot himself he always + misses, but when Adele d'Hervey resists him, at the time he has taken the + name of Antony, he kills her. He is therefore a dangerous madman. + </p> + <p> + We now have two fresh personages for novels, the misunderstood woman and + the frenzied lover. It is a pity they do not marry each other, and so rid + us of them. + </p> + <p> + We must not lose sight, though, of the fact that, contestable as <i>Valentine</i> + certainly is as a novel of passion, there is a pastoral novel of the + highest order contained in this book. The setting of the story is + delightful. George Sand has placed the scene in that Black Valley which + she knew so well and loved so dearly. It is the first of her novels in + which she celebrates her birthplace. There are walks along the country + pathways, long meditations at night, village weddings and fetes. All the + poetry and all the picturesqueness of the country transform and embellish + the story. + </p> + <p> + In <i>Jacques</i> we have the history of a man unhappily married, and + this, through the reciprocity which is inevitable under the circumstances, + is another story of a woman unhappily married. + </p> + <p> + At the age of thirty-five, after a stormy existence, in which years count + double, Jacques marries Fernande, a woman much younger than he is. After a + few unhappy months he sees the first clouds appearing in his horizon. He + sends for his sister Sylvia to come and live with himself and his wife. + Sylvia, like Jacques, is an exceptional individual. She is proud, haughty + and reserved. It can readily be imagined that, the presence of this + pythoness does not tend to restore the confidence which has become + somewhat shaken between the husband and wife. A young man named Octave, + who was at first attracted by Sylvia, soon begins to prefer Fernande, who + is not a romantic, ironical and sarcastic woman like her sister-in-law. He + fancies that he should be very happy with the gentle Fernande. Jacques + discovers that Octave and his wife are in love with each other. There are + various alternatives for him. He can dismiss his rival, kill him, or + merely pardon him. Each alternative is a very ordinary way out of the + difficulty, and Jacques cannot resign himself to anything ordinary. He + therefore asks his wife's lover whether he really cares for his wife, + whether he is in earnest, and also whether this attachment will be + durable. Quite satisfied with the result of this examination, he leaves + Fernande to Octave. He then disappears and kills himself, but he takes all + necessary precautions to avert the suspicion of suicide, in order not to + sadden Octave and Fernande in their happiness. He had not been able to + keep his wife's love, but he does not wish to be the jailer of the woman + who no longer loves him. Fernande has a right to happiness and, as he has + not been able to ensure that happiness, he must give place to another man. + It is a case of suicide as a duty. There are instances when a husband + should know that it is his duty to disappear. . . . Jacques is "a stoic." + George Sand has a great admiration for such characters. She gives us her + first sketch of one in Ralph, but Jacques is presented to us as a sublime + being. + </p> + <p> + Personally, I look upon him as a mere greenhorn, or, as would be said in + Wagner's dramas, a "pure simpleton." + </p> + <p> + He did everything to ruin his home life. His young wife had confidence in + him; she was gay and naive. He went about, folding his arms in a tragic + way. He was absent-minded and gloomy, and she began to be awed by him. One + day, when, in her sorrow for having displeased him, she flung herself on + her knees, sobbing, instead of lifting her up tenderly, he broke away from + her caresses, telling her furiously to get up and never to behave in such + a way again in his presence. After this he puts his sister, the "bronze + woman," between them, and he invites Octave to live with them. When he has + thus destroyed his wife's affection for him, in spite of the fact that at + one time she wished for nothing better than to love him, he goes away and + gives up the whole thing. All that is too easy. One of Meilhac's heroines + says to a man, who declares that he is going to drown himself for her + sake, "Oh yes, that is all very fine. You would be tranquil at the bottom + of the water! But what about me? . . ." + </p> + <p> + In this instance Jacques is tranquil at the bottom of his precipice, but + Fernande is alive and not at all tranquil. Jacques never rises to the very + simple conception of his duty, which was that, having made a woman the + companion of his life's journey, he had no right to desert her on the way. + </p> + <p> + Rather than blame himself, though, Jacques prefers incriminating the + institution of marriage. The criticism of this institution is very plain + in the novel we are considering. In her former novels George, Sand treated + all this in a more or less vague way. She now states her theory clearly. + Jacques considers that marriage is a barbarous institution. "I have not + changed my opinion," he says, "and I am not reconciled to society. I + consider marriage one of the most barbarous institutions ever invented. I + have no doubt that it will be abolished when the human species makes + progress in the direction of justice and reason. Some bond that will be + more human and just as sacred will take the place of marriage and provide + for the children born of a woman and a man, without fettering their + liberty for ever. Men are too coarse at present, and women too cowardly, + to ask for a nobler law than the iron one which governs them. For + individuals without conscience and without virtue, heavy chains are + necessary." + </p> + <p> + We also hear Sylvia's ideas and the plans she proposes to her brother for + the time when marriage is abolished. + </p> + <p> + "We will adopt an orphan, imagine that it is our child, and bring it up in + our principles. We could educate a child of each sex, and then marry them + when the time came, before God, with no other temple than the desert and + no priest but love. We should have formed their souls to respect truth and + justice, so that, thanks to us, there would be one pure and happy couple + on the face of the earth." + </p> + <p> + The suppression of marriage, then, was the idea, and, in a future more or + less distant, free love! + </p> + <p> + It is interesting to discover by what series of deductions George Sand + proceeds and on what principles she bases everything. When once her + principles are admitted, the conclusion she draws from them is quite + logical. + </p> + <p> + What is her essential objection to marriage? The fact that marriage + fetters the liberty of two beings. "Society dictates to you the formula of + an oath. You must swear that you will be faithful and obedient to me, that + you will never love any one but me, and that you will obey me in + everything. One of those oaths is absurd and the other vile. You cannot be + answerable for your heart, even if I were the greatest and most perfect of + men." Now comes the question of love for another man. Until then it was + considered that such love was a weakness, and that it might become a + fault. But, after all, is not passion a fatal and irresistible thing? + </p> + <p> + "No human creature can command love, and no one is to be blamed for + feeling it or for ceasing to feel it. What lowers a woman is untruth." A + little farther on we are told: "They are not guilty, for they love each + other. There is no crime where there is sincere love." According to this + theory, the union of man and woman depends on love alone. When love + disappears, the union cannot continue. Marriage is a human institution, + but passion is of Divine essence. In case of any dissension, it is always + the institution of marriage which is to be blamed. + </p> + <p> + The sole end in view of marriage is charm, either that of sentiment or + that of the senses, and its sole object is the exchange of two fancies. As + the oath of fidelity is either a stupidity or a degradation, can anything + more opposed to common sense, and a more absolute ignorance of all that is + noble and great, be imagined than the effort mankind is making, against + all the chances of destruction by which he is surrounded, to affirm, in + face of all that changes, his will and intention to continue? We all + remember the heart-rending lamentation of Diderot: "The first promises + made between two creatures of flesh," he says, "were made at the foot of a + rock crumbling to dust. They called on Heaven to be a witness of their + constancy, but the skies in the Heaven above them were never the same for + an instant. Everything was changing, both within them and around them, and + they believed that their heart would know no change. Oh, what children, + what children always!" Ah, not children, but what men rather! We know + these fluctuations in our affections. And it is because we are afraid of + our own fragility that we call to our aid the protection of laws, to which + submission is no slavery, as it is voluntary submission. Nature does not + know these laws, but it is by them that we distinguish ourselves from + Nature and that we rise above it. The rock on which we tread crumbles to + dust, the sky above our heads is never the same an instant, but, in the + depth of our hearts, there is the moral law—and that never changes! + </p> + <p> + In order to reply to these paradoxes, where shall we go in search of our + arguments? We can go to George Sand herself. A few years later, during her + intercourse with Lamennals, she wrote her famous <i>Lettres a Marcie</i> + for <i>Le Monde</i>. She addresses herself to an imaginary correspondent, + to a woman supposed to be suffering from that agitation and impatience + which she had experienced herself. + </p> + <p> + "You are sad," says George Sand to her, "you are suffering, and you are + bored to death." We will now take note of some of the advice she gives to + this woman. She no longer believes that it belongs to human dignity to + have the liberty of changing. "The one thing to which man aspires, the + thing which makes him great, is permanence in the moral state. All which + tends to give stability to our desires, to strengthen the human will and + affections, tends to bring about the <i>reign of God</i> on earth, which + means love and the practice of truth." She then speaks of vain dreams. + "Should we even have time to think about the impossible if we did all that + is necessary? Should we despair ourselves if we were to restore hope in + those people who have nothing left them but hope?" With regard to feminist + claims, she says: "Women are crying out that they are slaves: let them + wait until men are free! . . . In the mean time we must not compromise the + future by our impatience with the present. . . . It is to be feared that + vain attempts of this kind and unjustifiable claims may do harm to what is + styled at present the cause of women. There is no doubt that women have + certain rights and that they are suffering injustice. They ought to lay + claim to a better future, to a wise independence, to a greater + participation in knowledge, and to more respect, interest and esteem from + men. This future, though, is in their own hands." + </p> + <p> + This is wisdom itself. It would be impossible to put it more clearly, and + to warn women in a better way, that the greatest danger for their cause + would be the triumph of what is called by an ironical term—feminism. + </p> + <p> + These retractions, though, have very little effect. There is a certain + piquancy in showing up an author who is in contradiction with himself, in + showing how he refutes his own paradoxes. But these are striking paradoxes + which are not readily forgotten. What I want to show is that in these + first novels by George Sand we have about the whole of the feminist + programme of to-day. Everything is there, the right to happiness, the + necessity of reforming marriage, the institution, in a more or less near + future, of free unions. Our feminists of to-day, French, English, or + Norwegian authoresses, and theoricians like Ellen Key, with her book on <i>Love + and Marriage</i>, all these rebels have invented nothing. They have done + nothing but take up once more the theories of the great feminist of 1832, + and expose them with less lyricism but with more cynicism. + </p> + <p> + George Sand protested against the accusation of having aimed at attacking + institutions in her feminist novels. She was wrong in protesting, as it is + just this which gives her novels their value and significance. It is this + which dates them and which explains the enormous force of expansion that + they have had. They came just after the July Revolution, and we must + certainly consider them as one of the results of that. A throne had just + been overturned, and, by way of pastime, churches were being pillaged and + an archbishop's palace had been sackaged. Literature was also attempting + an insurrection, by way of diversion. For a long time it had been feeding + the revolutionary ferment which it had received from romanticism. + Romanticism had demanded the freedom of the individual, and the writers at + the head of this movement were Chateaubriand, Victor Hugo and Dumas. They + claimed this freedom for Rene, for Hermann and for Antony, who were men. + An example had been given, and women meant to take advantage of it. Women + now began their revolution. + </p> + <p> + Under all these influences, and in the particular atmosphere now created, + the matrimonial mishap of Baronne Dudevant appeared to her of considerable + importance. She exaggerated and magnified it until it became of social + value. Taking this private mishap as her basis, she puts into each of her + heroines something of herself. This explains the passionate tone of the + whole story. And this passion could not fail to be contagious for the + women who read her stories, and who recognized in the novelist's cause + their own cause and the cause of all women. + </p> + <p> + This, then, is the novelty in George Sand's way of presenting feminist + grievances. She had not invented these grievances. They were already + contained in Madame de Stael's books, and I have not forgotten her. + Delphine and Corinne, though, were women of genius, and presented to us as + such. In order to be pitied by Madame de Stael, it was absolutely + necessary to be a woman of genius. For a woman to be defended by George + Sand, it was only necessary that she should not love her husband, and this + was a much more general thing. + </p> + <p> + George Sand had brought feminism within the reach of all women. This is + the characteristic of these novels, the eloquence of which cannot be + denied. They are novels for the vulgarization of the feminist theory. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <h3> + THE ROMANTIC ESCAPADE + </h3> + <p> + THE VENICE ADVENTURE + </p> + <p> + George Sand did not have to wait long for success. She won fame with her + first book. With her second one she became rich, or what she considered + rich. She tells us that she sold it for a hundred and sixty pounds! That + seemed to her the wealth of the world, and she did not hesitate to leave + her attic on the Quay St. Michel for a more comfortable flat on Quay + Malaquais, which de Latouche gave up to her. + </p> + <p> + There was, at that time, a personage in Paris who had begun to exercise a + sort of royal tyranny over authors. Francois Buloz had taken advantage of + the intellectual effervescence of 1831 to found the <i>Revue des Deux + Mondes</i>. He was venturesome, energetic, original, very shrewd, though + apparently rough, obliging, in spite of his surly manners. He is still + considered the typical and traditional review manager. He certainly + possessed the first quality necessary for this function. He discovered + talented writers, and he also knew how to draw from them and squeeze out + of them all the literature they contained. Tremendously headstrong, he has + been known to keep a contributor under lock and key until his article was + finished. Authors abused him, quarrelled with him, and then came back to + him again. A review which had, for its first numbers, George Sand, Vigny, + Musset, Merimee, among many others, as contributors, may be said to have + started well. George Sand tells us that after a battle with the <i>Revue + de Paris</i> and the <i>Revue des Deux Mondes</i>, both of which papers + wanted her work, she bound herself to the <i>Revue des Deux Mondes</i>, + which was to pay her a hundred and sixty pounds a year for thirty-two + pages of writing every six weeks. In 1833 the <i>Revue des Deux Mondes</i> + published Lelia, and on January 1, 1876, it finished publishing the <i>Tour + de Percemont</i>. This means an uninterrupted collaboration, extending + over a period of forty-three years. + </p> + <p> + The literary critic of the <i>Revue des Deux Mondes</i> at that time was a + man who was very much respected and very little liked, or, in other words, + he was universally detested. This critic was Gustave Planche. He took his + own <i>role</i> too seriously, and endeavoured to put authors on their + guard about their faults. Authors did not appreciate this. He endeavoured, + too, to put the public on guard against its own infatuations. The public + did not care for this. He sowed strife and reaped revenge. This did not + stop him, though, for he went calmly on continuing his executions. His + impassibility was only feigned, and this is the curious side of the story. + He suffered keenly from the storms of hostility which he provoked. He had + a kindly disposition at bottom and tender places in his heart. He was + rather given to melancholy and intensely pessimistic. To relieve his + sadness, he gave himself up to hard work, and he was thoroughly devoted to + art. In order to comprehend this portrait and to see its resemblance, we, + who knew our great Brunetiere, have only to think of him. He, too, was + noble, fervent and combative, and he sought in his exclusive devotion to + literature a diversion from his gloomy pessimism, underneath which was + concealed such kindliness. It seemed with him, too, as though he took a + pride in making a whole crowd of enemies, whilst in reality the discovery + of every fresh adversary caused him great suffering. + </p> + <p> + When <i>Lelia</i> appeared, the novel was very badly treated in <i>L'Europe + litteraire</i>. Planche challenged the writer of the article, a certain + Capo de Feuillide, to a duel. So much for the impassibility of severe + critics. The duel took place, and afterwards there was a misunderstanding + between George Sand and Planche. From that time forth critics have given + up fighting duels for the sake of authors. + </p> + <p> + About the same time, George Sand made use of Sainte-Beuve as her + confessor. He seemed specially indicated for this function. In the first + place, he looked rather ecclesiastical, and then he had a taste for + secrets, and more particularly for whispered confessions. George Sand had + absolute confidence in him. She considered that he had an almost angelic + nature. In reality, just about that time, the angelic man was endeavouring + to get into the good graces of the wife of his best friend, and was + writing his <i>Livre d'Amour</i>, and divulging to the world a weakness of + which he had taken advantage. This certainly was the most villainous thing + a man could do. But then he, too, was in love and was struggling and + praying. George Sand declares her veneration for him, and she constituted + herself his penitent. + </p> + <p> + She begins her confession by an avowal that must have been difficult for + her. She tells of her intimacy with Merimee, an intimacy which was of + short duration and very unsatisfactory. She had been fascinated by + Merimee's art. + </p> + <p> + "For about a week," she says, "I thought he had the secret of happiness." + At the end of the week she was "weeping with disgust, suffering and + discouragement." She had hoped to find in him the devotion of a consoler, + but she found "nothing but cold and bitter jesting."(16) This experiment + had also proved a failure. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (16) Compare <i>Lettres a Sainte-Beuve</i>. +</pre> + <p> + Such were the conditions in which George Sand found herself at this epoch. + Her position was satisfactory; she might have been calm and independent. + Her inner life was once more desolate, and she was thoroughly discouraged. + She felt that she had lived centuries, that she had undergone torture, + that her heart had aged twenty years, and that nothing was any pleasure to + her now. Added to all this, public life saddened her, for the horizon had + clouded over. The boundless hopes and the enthusiasm of 1831 were things + of the past. "The Republic, as it was dreamed of in July," she writes, + "has ended in the massacres of Warsaw and in the holocaust of the + Saint-Merry cloister. The cholera has just been raging. Saint Simonism has + fallen through before it had settled the great question of love."(17) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (17) <i>Histoire de ma vie</i>. +</pre> + <p> + Depression had come after over-excitement. This is a phenomenon frequently + seen immediately after political convulsions. It might be called the + perpetual failure of revolutionary promises. + </p> + <p> + It was under all these influences that George Sand wrote <i>Lelia</i>. She + finished it in July, and it appeared in August, 1833. + </p> + <p> + It is absolutely impossible to give an analysis of <i>Lelia</i>. There + really is no subject. The personages are not beings of flesh and blood. + They are allegories strolling about in the garden of abstractions. Lelia + is a woman who has had her trials in life. She has loved and been + disappointed, so that she can no longer love at all. She reduces the + gentle poet Stenio to despair. He is much younger than she is, and he has + faith in life and in love. His ingenuous soul begins to wither and to lose + its freshness, thanks to the scepticism of the beautiful, disdainful, + ironical and world-weary Lelia. This strange person has a sister + Pulcherie, a celebrated courtesan, whose insolent sensuality is a set-off + to the other one's mournful complaints. We have here the opposition of + Intelligence and of the Flesh, of Mind and Matter. Then comes Magnus, the + priest, who has lost his faith, and for whom Lelia is a temptation, and + after him we have Trenmor, Lelia's great friend, Trenmor, the sublime + convict. As a young man he had been handsome. He had loved and been young. + He had known what it was to be only twenty years of age. "The only thing + was, he had known this at the age of sixteen" (!!) He had then become a + gambler, and here follows an extraordinary panegyric on the fatal passion + for gambling. Trenmor ruins himself, borrows without paying back, and + finally swindles "an old millionaire who was himself a defrauder and a + dissipated man" out of a hundred francs. Apparently the bad conduct of the + man Trenmor robs, excuses the swindling. He is condemned to five years of + hard labour. He undergoes his punishment, and is thereby regenerated. + "What if I were to tell you," writes George Sand, "that such as he now is, + crushed, with a tarnished reputation, ruined, I consider him superior to + all of us, as regards the moral life. As he had deserved punishment, he + was willing to bear it. He bore it, living for five years bravely and + patiently among his abject companions. He has come back to us out of that + abominable sewer holding his head up, calm, purified, pale as you see him, + but handsome still, like a creature sent by God." + </p> + <p> + We all know how dear convicts are to the hearts of romantic people. There + is no need for me to remind you how they have come to us recently, + encircled with halos of suffering and of purity. We all remember + Dostoiewsky's <i>Crime and Punishment</i> and Tolstoi's <i>Resurrection</i>. + When the virtue of expiation and the religion of human suffering came to + us from Russia, we should have greeted them as old acquaintances, if + certain essential works in our own literature, of which these books are + the issue, had not been unknown to us. + </p> + <p> + The last part of the novel is devoted to Stenio. Hurt by Lelia's disdain, + which has thrown him into the arms of her sister Pulcherie, he gives + himself up to debauch. We find him at a veritable orgy in Pulcherie's + house. Later on he is in a monastery at Camaldules, talking to Trenmor and + Magnus. In such books we must never be astonished. . . . There is a long + speech by Stenio, addressed to Don Juan, whom he regrets to have taken as + his model. The poor young man of course commits suicide. He chooses + drowning as the author evidently prefers that mode of suicide. Lelia + arrives in time to kneel down by the corpse of the young man who has been + her victim. Magnus then appears on the scene, exactly at the right moment, + to strangle Lelia. Pious hands prepare Lelia and Stenio for their burial. + They are united and yet separated up to their very death. + </p> + <p> + The summing up we have given is the original version of <i>Lelia</i>. In + 1836, George Sand touched up this work, altering much of it and spoiling, + what she altered. It is a pity that her new version, which is longer, + heavier and more obscure, should have taken the place of the former one. + In its first form <i>Lelia</i> is a work of rare beauty, but with the + beauty of a poem or an oratorio. It is made of the stuff of which dreams + are composed. It is a series of reveries, adapted to the soul of 1830. At + every different epoch there is a certain frame of mind, and certain ideas + are diffused in the air which we find alike in the works of the writers of + that time, although they did not borrow them from each other. <i>Lelia</i> + is a sort of summing up of the themes then in vogue in the personal novel + and in lyrical poetry. The theme of that suffering which is beneficent and + inspiring is contained in the following words: "Come back to me, Sorrow! + Why have you left me? It is by grief alone that man is great." This is + worthy of Chateaubriand. The theme of melancholy is as follows: "The moon + appeared. . . . What is the moon, and what is its nocturnal magic to me? + One hour more or less is nothing to me." This might very well be + Lamartine. We then have the malediction pronounced in face of impassible + Nature: "Yes, I detested that radiant and magnificent Nature, for it was + there before me in all its stupid beauty, silent and proud, for us to gaze + on, believing that it was enough to merely show itself." This reminds us + of Vigny in his <i>Maison du berger</i>. Then we have the religion of + love: "Doubt God, doubt men, doubt me if you like, but do not doubt love." + This is Musset. + </p> + <p> + But the theme which predominates, and, as we have compared all this to + music, we might say the <i>leit-motiv</i> of all, is that of desolation, + of universal despair, of the woe of life. It is the same lamentation + which, ever since Werther, was to be heard throughout all literature. It + is the identical suffering which Rene, Obermann and Lara had been + repeating to all the echoes. The elements of it were the same: pride which + prevents us from adapting ourselves to the conditions of universal life, + an abuse of self-analysis which opens up our wounds again and makes them + bleed, the wild imagination which presents to our eyes the deceptive + mirage of Promised Lands from which we are ever exiles. Lelia personifies, + in her turn, the "<i>mal du siecle</i>." Stenio reproaches her with only + singing grief and doubt. "How many, times," he says, "have you appeared to + me as typical of the indescribable suffering in which mankind is plunged + by the spirit of inquiry! With your beauty and your sadness, your + world-weariness and your scepticism, do you not personify the excess of + grief produced by the abuse of thought?" He then adds: "There is a great + deal of pride in this grief, Lelia!" It was undoubtedly a malady, for + Lelia had no reason to complain of life any more than her brothers in + despair. It is simply that the general conditions of life which all people + have to accept seem painful to them. When we are well the play of our + muscles is a joy to us, but when we are ill we feel the very weight of the + atmosphere, and our eyes are hurt by the pleasant daylight. + </p> + <p> + When <i>Lelia</i> appeared George Sand's old friends were stupefied. + "What, in Heaven's name, is this?" wrote Jules Neraud, the <i>Malgache.</i> + "Where have you been in search of this? Why have you written such a book? + Where has it sprung from, and what is it for? . . . This woman is a + fantastical creature. She is not at all like you. You are lively and can + dance a jig; you can appreciate butterflies and you do not despise puns. + You sew and can make jam very well."(18) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (18) <i>Histoire de ma vie</i>. +</pre> + <p> + It certainly was not her portrait. She was healthy and believed in life, + in the goodness of things and in the future of humanity, just as Victor + Hugo and Dumas <i>pere</i>, those other forces of Nature, did, at about + the same time. A soul foreign to her own had entered into her, and it was + the romantic soul. With the magnificent power of receptivity which she + possessed, George Sand welcomed all the winds which came to her from the + four quarters of romanticism. She sent them back with unheard-of fulness, + sonorous depth and wealth of orchestration. From that time forth a woman's + voice could be heard, added to all the masculine voices which railed + against life, and the woman's voice dominated them all! + </p> + <p> + In George Sand's psychological evolution, <i>Lelia</i> is just this: the + beginning of the invasion of her soul by romanticism. It was a borrowed + individuality, undoubtedly, but it was not something to be put on and off + at will like a mask. It adhered to the skin. It was all very fine for + George Sand to say to Sainte-Beuve: "Do not confuse the man himself with + the suffering. . . . And do not believe in all my satanical airs. . . . + This is simply a style that I have taken on, I assure you. . . ." + </p> + <p> + Sainte-Beuve had every reason to be alarmed, and the confessor was quite + right in his surmises. The crisis of romanticism had commenced. It was to + take an acute form and to reach its paroxysm during the Venice escapade. + It is from this point of view that we will study the famous episode, which + has already been studied by so many other writers. + </p> + <p> + No subject, perhaps, has excited the curiosity of readers like this one, + and always without satisfying that curiosity. A library could be formed of + the books devoted to this subject, written within the last ten years. + Monsieur Rocheblave, Monsieur Maurice Clouard, Dr. Cabanes, Monsieur + Marieton, the enthusiastic collector, Spoelberch de Lovenjoul and Monsieur + Decori have all given us their contributions to the debate.(19) Thanks to + them, we have the complete correspondence of George Sand and Musset, the + diary of George Sand and Pagello's diary. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (19) Consult: Rocheblave, <i>La fin dune Legende;</i> Maurice + Clouard, <i>Documents inedits sur A. de Musset;</i> Dr. Cabanes, + <i>Musset et le Dr. Pagello</i>; Paul Marieton, <i>Une histoire + d'amour;</i> Vicomte Spoelberch de Lovenjoul, <i>La vrai histoire + d'Elle et Lui;</i> Decori, <i>Lettres de George Sand et Musset.</i> +</pre> + <p> + With the aid of all these documents Monsieur Charles Maurras has written a + book entitled <i>Les Amants de Venise</i>. It is the work of a + psychologist and of an artist. The only fault I have to find with it is + that the author of it seems to see calculation and artifice everywhere, + and not to believe sufficiently in sincerity. We must not forget, either, + that as early as the year 1893, all that is essential had been told us by + that shrewd writer and admirable woman, Arvede Barine. The chapter which + she devotes to the Venice episode, in her biography of Alfred de Musset, + is more clear and simple, and at the same time deeper than anything that + had yet been written. + </p> + <p> + It is a subject that has been given up to the curiosity of people and to + their disputes. The strange part is the zeal which at once animates every + one who takes part in this controversy. The very atmosphere seems to be + impregnated with strife, and those interested become, at once, the + partisans of George Sand or the partisans of Musset. The two parties only + agree on one point, and that is, to throw all the blame on the client + favoured by their adversary. I must confess that I cannot take a + passionate interest in a discussion, the subject of which we cannot + properly judge. According to <i>Mussetistes</i>, it was thanks to George + Sand that the young poet was reduced to the despair which drove him to + debauchery. On the other hand, if we are to believe the <i>Sandistes</i>, + George Sand's one idea in interesting herself in Musset was to rescue him + from debauchery and convert him to a better life. I listen to all such + pious interpretations, but I prefer others for myself. I prefer seeing the + physiognomy of each of the two lovers standing out, as it does, in + powerful relief. + </p> + <p> + It is the custom, too, to pity these two unfortunates, who suffered so + much. At the risk of being taken for a very heartless man, I must own that + I do not pity them much. The two lovers wished for this suffering, they + wanted to experience the incomparable sensations of it, and they got + enjoyment and profit from this. They knew that they were working for + posterity. "Posterity will repeat our names like those of the immortal + lovers whose two names are only one at present, like Romeo and Juliette, + like Heloise and Abelard. People will never speak of one of us without + speaking of the other." + </p> + <p> + Juliette died at the age of fifteen and Heloise entered a convent. The + Venice lovers did not have to pay for their celebrity as dearly as that. + They wanted to give an example, to light a torch on the road of humanity. + "People shall know my story," writes George Sand. "I will write it. . . . + Those who follow along the path I trod will see where it leads." <i>Et + nunc erudimini</i>. Let us see for ourselves, and learn. + </p> + <p> + Their <i>liaison</i> dates from August, 1833. + </p> + <p> + George Sand was twenty-nine years of age. It was the time of her greatest + charm. We must try to imagine the enchantress as she then was. She was not + tall and she was delightfully slender, with an extraordinary-looking face + of dark, warm colouring. Her thick hair was very dark, and her eyes, her + large eyes, haunted Musset for years after. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "<i>Ote-moi, memoire importune</i>, + <i>Ote-moi ces yeux que je vois toujours!</i>" +</pre> + <p> + he writes. + </p> + <p> + And this woman, who could have been loved passionately, merely for her + charm as a woman, was a celebrity! She was a woman of genius! Alfred de + Musset was twenty-three years old. He was elegant, witty, a flirt, and + when he liked he could be irresistible. He had won his reputation by that + explosion of gaiety and imagination, <i>Les Contes d'Espagne el d'Italle</i>. + He had written some fine poetry, dreamy, disturbing and daring. He had + also given <i>Les Caprices de Marianne</i>, in which he figures twice over + himself, for he was both Octave the sceptic, the disillusioned man, and + Coelio, the affectionate, candid Coelio. He imagined himself Rolla. It was + he, and he alone, who should have been styled the sublime boy. + </p> + <p> + And so here they both are. We might call them Lelia and Stenio, but <i>Lelia</i> + was written before the Venice adventure. She was not the reflection of it, + but rather the presentiment. This is worthy of notice, but not at all + surprising. Literature sometimes imitates reality, but how much more often + reality is modelled on literature! + </p> + <p> + It was as though George Sand had foreseen her destiny, for she had feared + to meet Musset. On the 11th of March, she writes as follows to + Sainte-Beuve: "On second thoughts, I do not want you to bring Alfred de + Musset. He is a great dandy. We should not suit each other, and I was + really more curious to see him than interested in him." A little later on, + though, at a dinner at the <i>Freres provencaux</i>, to which Buloz + invited his collaborators, George Sand found herself next Alfred de + Musset. She invited him to call on her, and when <i>Lelia</i> was + published she sent him a copy, with the following dedication written in + the first volume: <i>A Monsieur mon gamin d'Allred</i>; and in the second + volume: <i>A Monsieur le vicomte Allred de Musset, hommage respectueux de + son devoue serviteur George Sand</i>. Musset replied by giving his opinion + of the new book. Among the letters which followed, there is one that + begins with these words: "My dear George, I have something silly and + ridiculous to tell you. I am foolishly writing, instead of telling you, as + I ought to have done, after our walk. I am heartbroken to-night that I did + not tell you. You will laugh at me, and you will take me for a man who + simply talks nonsense. You will show me the door, and fancy that I am not + speaking the truth. . . . I am in love with you. . . ." + </p> + <p> + She did not laugh at him, though, and she did not show him the door. + Things did not drag on long, evidently, as she writes to her confessor, + Sainte-Beuve, on the 25th of August: "I have fallen in love, and very + seriously this time, with Alfred de Musset." How long was this to last? + She had no idea, but for the time being she declared that she was + absolutely happy. + </p> + <p> + "I have found a candour, a loyalty and an affection which delight me. It + is the love of a young man and the friendship of a comrade." There was a + honeymoon in the little flat looking on the Quay Malaquals. Their friends + shared the joy of the happy couple, as we see by Musset's frolicsome + lines: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>George est dans sa chambrette, + Entre deux pots de fleurs, + Fumiant sa cigarette, + Les yeux baignes de pleurs.</i> + + <i>Buloz assis par terre + Lui fait de doux serments, + Solange par derriere + Gribouille ses romans.</i> + + <i>Plante commme une borne</i>, + <i>Boucoiran tout crott</i>, + <i>Contemple d'un oeil morne</i> + <i>Musset tout debraille, etc.</i> +</pre> + <p> + It is evident that, as poetry, this does not equal the <i>Nuits.</i> + </p> + <p> + In the autumn they went for a honeymoon trip to Fontainebleau. It was + there that the strange scene took place which is mentioned in <i>Elle et + Lui</i>. One evening when they were in the forest, Musset had an + extraordinary hallucination, which he has himself described: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>Dans tin bois, sur une bruyere, + Au pied d'un arbre vint s'asseoir + Un jeune homme vetu de noir + Qui me ressemblail comme un frere.</i> + + <i>Le lui demandais mon chemin, + Il tenait un luth d'ue main, + De l'autre un bouquet d'eglantine. + Il me fit tin salut d'ami + Et, se detournant a demu, + Me montra du doigt la colline.</i> +</pre> + <p> + He really saw this "double," dressed in black, which was to visit him + again later on. His <i>Nuit de decembre</i> was written from it. + </p> + <p> + They now wanted to see Italy together. Musset had already written on + Venice; he now wanted to go there. Madame de Musset objected to this, but + George Sand promised so sincerely that she would be a mother to the young + man that finally his own mother gave her consent. On the evening of + December 12, 1833, Paul de Musset accompanied the two travellers to the + mail-coach. On the boat from Lyons to Avignon they met with a big, + intelligent-looking man. This was Beyle-Stendhal, who was then Consul at + Civita-Vecchia. He was on his way to his post. They enjoyed his lively + conversation, although he made fun of their illusions about Italy and the + Italian character. He made fun, though, of everything and of every one, + and they felt that he was only being witty and trying to appear unkind. At + dinner he drank too much, and finished by dancing round the table in his + great fur-lined boots. Later on he gave them some specimens of his obscene + conversation, so that they were glad to continue their journey without + him. + </p> + <p> + On the 28th the travellers reached Florence. The aspect of this city and + his researches in the <i>Chroniques florentines</i> supplied the poet with + the subject for <i>Lorenzaccio</i>. It appears that George Sand and Musset + each treated this subject, and that a <i>Lorenzaccio</i> by George Sand + exists. I have not read it, but I prefer Musset's version. They reached + Venice on January 19, 1834, and put up at the Hotel Danieli. By this time + they were at loggerheads. + </p> + <p> + The cause of their quarrel and disagreement is not really known, and the + activity of retrospective journalists has not succeeded in finding this + out. George Sand's letters only give details about their final quarrel. On + arriving, George Sand was ill, and this exasperated Musset. He was + annoyed, and declared that a woman out of sorts was very trying. There are + good reasons for believing that he had found her very trying for some + time. He was very elegant and she a learned "white blackbird." He was + capricious and she a placid, steady <i>bourgeois</i> woman, very + hard-working and very regular in the midst of her irregularity. He used to + call her "personified boredom, the dreamer, the silly woman, the nun," + when he did not use terms which we cannot transcribe. The climax was when + he said to her: "I was mistaken, George, and I beg your pardon, for I do + not love you." + </p> + <p> + Wounded and offended, she replied: "We do not love each other any longer, + and we never really loved each other." + </p> + <p> + They therefore took back their independence. This is a point to note, as + George Sand considered this fact of the greatest importance, and she + constantly refers to it. She was from henceforth free, as regarded her + companion. + </p> + <p> + Illness kept them now at Venice. George Sand's illness first and then + Musset's alarming malady. He had high fever, accompanied by chest + affection and attacks of delirium which lasted six consecutive hours, + during which it took four men to hold him. + </p> + <p> + George Sand was an admirable nurse. This must certainly be acknowledged. + She sat up with him at night and she nursed him by day, and, astonishing + woman that she was, she was also able to work and to earn enough to pay + their common expenses. This is well known, but I am able to give another + proof of it, in the letters which George Sand wrote from Venice to Buloz. + These letters have been communicated to me by Madame Pailleron, <i>nee</i> + Buloz, and by Madame Landouzy, <i>veuve</i> Buloz, whom I thank for the + public and for myself. The following are a few of the essential passages: + </p> + <p> + "February 4. <i>Read this when you are alone.</i> + </p> + <p> + "MY DEAR BULOZ,—Your reproaches reach me at a miserable moment. If + you have received my letter, you already know that I do not deserve them. + A fortnight ago I was well again and working. Alfred was working too, + although he was not very well and had fits of feverishness. About five + days ago we were both taken ill, almost at the same time. I had an attack + of dysentery, which caused me horrible suffering. I have not yet recovered + from it, but I am strong enough, anyhow, to nurse him. He was seized with + a nervous and inflammatory fever, which has made such rapid progress that + the doctor tells me he does not know what to think about it. We must wait + for the thirteenth or fourteenth day before knowing whether his life is in + danger. And what will this thirteenth or fourteenth day be? Perhaps his + last one? I am in despair, overwhelmed with fatigue, suffering horribly, + and awaiting who knows what future? How can I give myself up to literature + or to anything in the world at such a time? I only know that our entire + fortune, at present, consists of sixty francs, that we shall have to spend + an enormous amount at the chemist's, for the nurse and doctor, and that we + are at a very expensive hotel. We were just about to leave it and go to a + private house. Alfred cannot be moved now, and even if everything should + go well, he probably cannot be moved for a month. We shall have to pay one + term's rent for nothing, and we shall return to France, please God. If my + ill-luck continues, and if Alfred should die, I can assure you that I do + not care what happens after to me. If God allows Alfred to recover, I do + not know how we shall pay the expenses of his illness and of his return to + France. The thousand francs that you are to send me will not suffice, and + I do not know what we shall do. At any rate, do not delay sending that, + as, by the time it arrives, it will be more than necessary. I am sorry + about the annoyance you are having with the delay for publishing, but you + can now judge whether it is my fault. If only Alfred had a few quiet days, + I could soon finish my work. But he is in a frightful state of delirium + and restlessness. I cannot leave him an instant. I have been nine hours + writing this letter. Adieu, my friend, and pity me. + </p> + <p> + "GEORGE. + </p> + <p> + "Above everything, do not tell any one, not any one in the world, that + Alfred is ill. If his mother heard (and it only needs two persons for + telling a secret to all Paris) she would go mad. If she has to be told, + let who will undertake to tell her, but if in a fortnight Alfred is out of + danger, it is useless for her to grieve now. Adieu." + </p> + <p> + "February 13, 1834. + </p> + <p> + "My friend, Alfred is saved. There has been no fresh attack, and we have + nearly reached the fourteenth day without the improvement having altered. + After the brain affection inflammation of the lungs declared itself, and + this rather alarmed us for two days. . . . He is extremely weak at + present, and he wanders occasionally. He has to be nursed night and day. + Do not imagine, therefore, that I am only making pretexts for the delay in + my work. I have not undressed for eight nights. I sleep on a sofa, and + have to get up at any minute. In spite of this, ever since I have been + relieved in my mind about the danger, I have been able to write a few + pages in the mornings while he is resting. You may be sure that I should + like to be able to take advantage of this time to rest myself. Be assured, + my friend, that I am not short of courage, nor yet of the will to work. + You are not more anxious than I am that I should carry out my engagements. + You know that a debt makes me smart like a wound. But you are friend + enough to make allowances for my situation and not to leave me in + difficulties. I am spending very wretched days here at this bedside, for + the slightest sound, the slightest movement causes me constant terror. In + this disposition of mind I shall not write any light works. They will be + heavy, on the contrary, like my fatigue and my sadness. + </p> + <p> + "Do not leave me without money, I beseech you, or I do not know what will + happen to me. I spend about twenty francs a day in medicine of all sorts. + We do not know how to keep him alive. . . ." + </p> + <p> + These letters give the lie to some of the gossip that has been spread + abroad with regard to the episode of the Hotel Danieli. And I too, thanks + to these letters, shall have put an end to a legend! In the second volume + of Wladimir Karenine's work on George Sand, on page 61, we have the + following words— + </p> + <p> + "Monsieur Plauchut tells us that, according to Buloz, Musset had been + enticed into a gambling hell during his stay in Venice, and had lost about + four hundred pounds there. The imprudent young man could not pay this debt + of honour, and he never would have been able to do so. He had to choose + between suicide or dishonour. George Sand did not hesitate a moment. She + wrote at once to the manager of the <i>Revue</i>, asking him to advance + the money." And this debt was on her shoulders for a long time. + </p> + <p> + The facts of the case are as follows, according to a letter from George + Sand to Buloz: "I beseech you, as a favour, to pay Alfred's debt and to + write to him that it is all settled. You cannot imagine the impatience and + the disturbance that this little matter cause him. He speaks to me of it + every minute, and begs me every day to write to you about it. He owes + these three hundred and sixty francs (L14 8<i>s</i>.) to a young man he + knows very little and who might talk of it to people. . . . You have + already advanced much larger sums to him. He has always paid you back, and + you are not afraid that this would make you bankrupt. If, through his + illness, he should not be able to work for a long time, my work could be + used for that, so be at ease. . . . Do this, I beseech you, and write him + a short letter to ease his mind at once. I will then read it to him, and + this will pacify one of the torments of his poor head. Oh, my friend, if + you only knew what this delirium is like! What sublime and awful things he + has said, and then what convulsions and shouts! I do not know how he has + had strength enough to pull through and how it is that I have not gone mad + myself. Adieu, adieu, my friend." + </p> + <p> + There really was a gambling debt, then, but we do not know exactly where + it was contracted. It amounted to three hundred and sixty francs, which is + very different from the ten thousand francs and the threat of suicide. + </p> + <p> + And now we come to the pure folly! Musset had been attended by a young + doctor, Pietro Pagello. He was a straightforward sort of young man, of + rather slow intelligence, without much conversation, not speaking French, + but very handsome. George Sand fell in love with him. One night, after + having scribbled a letter of three pages, she put it into an envelope + without any address and gave it to Pagello. He asked her to whom he was to + give the letter. George Sand took the envelope back and wrote on it: "To + stupid Pagello." We have this declaration, and among other things in the + letter are the following lines: "You will not deceive me, anyhow. You will + not make any idle promises and false vows. . . . I shall not, perhaps, + find in you what I have sought for in others, but, at any rate, I can + always believe that you possess it. . . . I shall be able to interpret + your meditations and make your silence speak eloquently. . . ." This shows + us clearly the kind of charm George Sand found in Pagello. She loved him + because he was stupid. + </p> + <p> + The next questions are, when did they become lovers, and how did Musset + discover their intimacy? It is quite certain that he suspected it, and + that he made Pagello confess his love for George Sand.(20) A most + extraordinary scene then took place between the three of them, according + to George Sand's own account. "Adieu, then," she wrote to Musset, later + on, "adieu to the fine poem of our sacred friendship and of that ideal + bond formed between the three of us, when you dragged from him the + confession of his love for me and when he vowed to you that he would make + me happy. Oh, that night of enthusiasm, when, in spite of us, you joined + our hands, saying: 'You love each other and yet you love me, for you have + saved me, body and soul." Thus, then, Musset had solemnly abjured his love + for George Sand, he had engaged his mistress of the night before to a new + lover, and was from henceforth to be their best friend. Such was the ideal + bond, such the sacred friendship! This may be considered the romantic + escapade. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (20) On one of George Sand's unpublished letters to Buloz + the following lines are written in the handwriting of Buloz: + + "In the morning on getting up he discovered, in an adjoining + room, a tea-table still set, but with only one cup. + + "'Did you have tea yesterday evening?' + + "'Yes,' answered George Sand, 'I had tea with the doctor.' + + "'Ah, how is it that there is only one cup?' + + "'The other has been taken away.' + + "'No, nothing has been taken away. You drank out of the + same cup.' + + "'Even if that were so, you have no longer the right to + trouble about such things.' + + "'I have the right, as I am still supposed to be your lover. + You ought at least to show me respect, and, as I am leaving + in three days, you might wait until I have gone to do as you + like.' + + "The night following this scene Musset discovered George + Sand, crouching on her bed, writing a letter. + + "'What are you doing?' he asked. + + "'I am reading,' she replied, and she blew out the candle. + + "'If you are reading, why do you put the candle out?' + + "'It went out itself: light it again.' + + "Alfred de Musset lit it again. + + "'Ah, so you were reading, and you have no book. Infamous + woman, you might as well say that you are writing to your + lover.' George Sand had recourse to her usual threat of + leaving the house. Alfred de Musset read her up: 'You are + thinking of a horrible plan. You want to hurry off to your + doctor, pretend that I am mad and that your life is in + danger. You will not leave this room. I will keep you from + anything so base. If you do go, I will put such an epitaph + on your grave that the people who read it will turn pale,' + said Alfred with terrible energy. + + "George Sand was trembling and crying. + + "'I no longer love you,' Alfred said scoffingly to George + Sand. + + "'It is the right moment to take your poison or to go and + drown yourself.' + + "Confession to Alfred of her secret about the doctor. + Reconciliation. Alfred's departure. George Sand's + affectionate and enthusiastic letters." + + Such are the famous episodes of the <i>tea-cup</i> and <i>the + letter</i> as Buloz heard them told at the time. +</pre> + <p> + Musset returned in March, 1834, leaving George Sand with Pagello in + Venice. The sentimental exaggeration continued, as we see from the letters + exchanged between Musset and George Sand. When crossing the Simplon the + immutable grandeur of the Alps struck Alusset with admiration, and he + thought of his two "great friends." His head was evidently turned by the + heights from which he looked at things. George Sand wrote to him: "I am + not giving you any message from Pagello, except that he is almost as sad + as I am at your absence." "He is a fine fellow," answered Musset. "Tell + him how much I like him, and that my eyes fill with tears when I think of + him." Later on he writes: "When I saw Pagello, I recognized in him the + better side of my own nature, but pure and free from the irreparable + stains which have ruined mine." "Always treat me like that," writes Musset + again. "It makes me feel proud. My dear friend, the woman who talks of her + new lover in this way to the one she has given up, but who still loves + her, gives him a proof of the greatest esteem that a man can receive from + a woman. . . ." That romanticism which made a drama of the situation in <i>L'Ecole + des Femmes</i>, and another one out of that in the <i>Precieuses ridicules</i>, + excels in taking tragically situations that belong to comedy and in + turning them into the sublime. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile George Sand had settled down in Venice with Pagello—and + with all the family, all the Pagello tribe, with the brother, the sister, + to say nothing of the various rivals who came and made scenes. It was the + vulgar, ordinary platitude of an Italian intimacy of this kind. In spite + of everything, she continued congratulating herself on her choice. + </p> + <p> + "I have my love, my stay here with me. He never suffers, for he is never + weak or suspicious. . . . He is calm and good. . . . He loves me and is at + peace; he is happy without my having to suffer, without my having to make + efforts for his happiness. . . . As for me, I must suffer for some one. It + is just this suffering which nurtures my maternal solicitude, etc. . . ." + She finally begins to weary of her dear Pagello's stupidity. It occurred + to her to take him with her to Paris, and that was the climax. There are + some things which cannot be transplanted from one country to another. When + they had once set foot in Paris, the absurdity of their situation appeared + to them. + </p> + <p> + "From the moment that Pagello landed in France," says George Sand, "he + could not understand anything." The one thing that he was compelled to + understand was that he was no longer wanted. He was simply pushed out. + George Sand had a remarkable gift for bringing out the characteristics of + the persons with whom she had any intercourse. This Pagello, thanks to his + adventure with her, has become in the eyes of the world a personage as + comic as one of Moliere's characters. + </p> + <p> + Musset and George Sand still cared for each other. He beseeched her to + return to him. "I am good-for-nothing," he says, "for I am simply steeped + in my love for you. I do not know whether I am alive, whether I eat, + drink, or breathe, but I know I am in love." George Sand was afraid to + return to him, and Sainte-Beuve forbade her. Love proved stronger than all + other arguments, however, and she yielded. + </p> + <p> + As soon as she was with him once more, their torture commenced again, with + all the customary complaints, reproaches and recriminations. "I was quite + sure that all these reproaches would begin again immediately after the + happiness we had dreamed of and promised each other. Oh, God, to think + that we have already arrived at this!" she writes. + </p> + <p> + What tortured them was that the past, which they had believed to be "a + beautiful poem," now seemed to them a hideous nightmare. All this, we + read, was a game that they were playing. A cruel sort of game, of which + Musset grew more and more weary, but which to George Sand gradually became + a necessity. We see this, as from henceforth it was she who implored + Musset. In her diary, dated December 24, 1834, we read: "And what if I + rushed to him when my love is too strong for me. What if I went and broke + the bell-pull with ringing, until he opened his door to me. Or if I lay + down across the threshold until he came out!" She cut off her magnificent + hair and sent it to him. Such was the way in which this proud woman + humbled herself. She was a prey to love, which seemed to her a holy + complaint. It was a case of Venus entirely devoted to her prey. The + question is, was this really love? "I no longer love you," she writes, + "but I still adore you. I do not want you any more, but I cannot do + without you." They had the courage to give each other up finally in March, + 1835. + </p> + <p> + It now remains for us to explain the singularity of this adventure, which, + as a matter of fact, was beyond all logic, even the logic of passion. It + is, however, readily understood, if we treat it as a case of acute + romanticism, the finest case of romanticism, that has been actually lived, + which the history of letters offers us. + </p> + <p> + The romanticism consists first in exposing one's life to the public, in + publishing one's most secret joys and sorrows. From the very beginning + George Sand and Musset took the whole circle of their friends into their + confidence. These friends were literary people. George Sand specially + informs Sainte-Beuve that she wishes her sentimental life from thenceforth + to be known. They were quite aware that they were on show, as it were, + subjects of an experiment that would be discussed by "the gallery." + </p> + <p> + Romanticism consists next in the writer putting his life into his books, + making literature out of his emotions. The idea of putting their adventure + into a story occurred to the two lovers before the adventure had come to + an end. It was at Venice that George Sand wrote her first <i>Lettres d'un + voyageur</i>, addressed to the poet—and to the subscribers of the <i>Revue + des Deux Mondes</i>. Musset, to improve on this idea, decides to write a + novel from the episode which was still unfinished. "I will not die," he + says, "until I have written my book on you and on myself, more + particularly on you. No, my beautiful, holy fiancee, you shall not return + to this cold earth before it knows the woman who has walked on it. No, I + swear this by my youth and genius." Musset's contributions to this + literature were <i>Confession d'un enfant du siecle</i>, <i>Histoire d'un + merle blanc</i>, <i>Elle et Lui</i>, and all that followed. + </p> + <p> + In an inverse order, romanticism consists in putting literature into our + life, in taking the latest literary fashion for our rule of action. This + is not only a proof of want of taste; it is a most dangerous mistake. The + romanticists, who had so many wrong ideas, had none more erroneous than + their idea of love, and in the correspondence between George Sand and + Musset we see the paradox in all its beauty. It consists in saying that + love leads to virtue and that it leads there through change. Whether the + idea came originally from <i>her</i> or from <i>him</i>, this was their + common faith. + </p> + <p> + "You have said it a hundred times over," writes George Sand, "and it is + all in vain that you retract; nothing will now efface that sentence: 'Love + is the only thing in the world that counts.' It may be that it is a divine + faculty which we lose and then find again, that we must cultivate, or that + we have to buy with cruel suffering, with painful experience. The + suffering you have endured through loving me was perhaps destined, in + order that you might love another woman more easily. Perhaps the next + woman may love you less than I do, and yet she may be more happy and more + beloved. There are such mysteries in these things, and God urges us along + new and untrodden paths. Give in; do not attempt to resist. He does not + desert His privileged ones. He takes them by the hand and places them in + the midst of the sandbanks, where they are to learn to live, in order that + they may sit down at the banquet at which they are to rest. . . ." Later + on she writes as follows: "Do you imagine that one love affair, or even + two, can suffice for exhausting or taking the freshness from a strong + soul? I believed this, too, for a long time, but I know now that it is + quite the contrary. Love is a fire that endeavours to rise and to purify + itself. Perhaps the more we have failed in our endeavours to find it, the + more apt we become to discover it, and the more we have been obliged to + change, the more conservative we shall become. Who knows? It is perhaps + the terrible, magnificent and courageous work of a whole lifetime. It is a + crown of thorns which will blossom and be covered with roses when our hair + begins to turn white." + </p> + <p> + This was pure frenzy, and yet there were two beings ready to drink in all + this pathos, two living beings to live out this monstrous chimera. Such + are the ravages that a certain conception of literature may make. By the + example we have of these two illustrious victims, we may imagine that + there were others, and very many others, obscure and unknown individuals, + but human beings all the same, who were equally duped. There are + unwholesome fashions in literature, which, translated into life, mean + ruin. The Venice adventure shows up the truth of this in bright daylight. + This is its interest and its lesson. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V + </h2> + <h3> + THE FRIEND OF MICHEL (DE BOURGES) + </h3> + <p> + LISZT AND COMTESSE D'AGOULT. <i>MAUPRAT</i> + </p> + <p> + We have given the essential features of the Venice adventure. The love + affair, into which George Sand and Musset had put so much literature, was + to serve literature. Writers of the romantic school are given to making + little songs with their great sorrows. When the correspondence between + George Sand and Musset appeared, every one was surprised to find passages + that were already well known. Such passages had already appeared in the + printed work of the poet or of the authoress. An idea, a word, or an + illustration used by the one was now, perhaps, to be found in the work of + the other one. + </p> + <p> + "It is I who have lived," writes George Sand, "and not an unreal being + created by my pride and my <i>ennui</i>." We all know the use to which + Musset put this phrase. He wrote the famous couplet of Perdican with it: + "All men are untruthful, inconstant, false, chatterers, hypocritical, + proud, cowardly, contemptible and sensual; all women are perfidious, + artful, vain, inquisitive and depraved. . . . There is, though, in this + world one thing which is holy and sublime. It is the union of these two + beings, imperfect and frightful as they are. We are often deceived in our + love; we are often wounded and often unhappy, but still we love, and when + we are on the brink of the tomb we shall turn round, look back, and say to + ourselves: 'I have often suffered, I have sometimes been deceived, but I + have loved. It is I who have lived, and not an unreal being created by my + pride and <i>ennui</i>.'" Endless instances of this kind could be given. + They are simply the sign of the reciprocal influence exercised over each + other by George Sand and Musset, an influence to be traced through all + their work. + </p> + <p> + This influence was of a different kind and of unequal degree. It was + George Sand who first made literature of their common recollections. Some + of these recollections were very recent ones and were impregnated with + tears. The two lovers had only just separated when George Sand made the + excursion described in the first <i>Lettre d'un voyageur</i>. She goes + along the Brenta. It is the month of May, and the meadows are in flower. + In the horizon she sees the snowy peaks of the Tyrolese Alps standing out. + The remembrance of the long hours spent at the invalid's bedside comes + back to her, with all the anguish of the sacred passion in which she + thinks she sees God's anger. She then pays a visit to the Oliero grottoes, + and once more her wounded love makes her heart ache. She returns through + Possagno, whose beautiful women served as models for Canova. She then goes + back to Venice, and the doctor gives her a letter from the man she has + given up, the man she has sent away. These poetical descriptions, + alternating with lyrical effusions, this kind of dialogue with two voices, + one of which is that of nature and the other that of the heart, remind us + of one of Musset's <i>Nuits</i>. + </p> + <p> + The second of these <i>Lettres d'un voyageur</i> is entirely descriptive. + It is spring-time in Venice. The old balconies are gay with flowers; the + nightingales stop singing to listen to the serenades. There are songs to + be heard at every street corner, music in the wake of every gondola. There + are sweet perfumes and love-sighs in the air. The delights of the Venetian + nights had never been described like this. The harmony of "the three + elements, water, sky and marble," had never been better expressed, and the + charm of Venice had never been suggested in so subtle and, penetrating a + manner. The second letter treats too of the gondoliers, and of their + habits and customs. + </p> + <p> + The third letter, telling us about the nobility and the women of Venice, + completes the impression. Just as the Pyrenees had moved George Sand, so + Italy now moved her. This was a fresh acquisition for her palette. More + than once from henceforth Venice was to serve her for the wonderful + scenery of her stories. This is by no means a fresh note, though, in + George Sand's work. There is no essential difference, then, in her + inspiration. She had always been impressionable, but her taste was now + getting purer. Musset, the most romantic of French poets, had an eminently + classical taste. In the <i>Lettres de Dupuis et Cotonet</i>, he defined + romanticism as an abuse of adjectives. He was of Madame de Lafayette's + opinion, that a word taken out was worth twenty pennies, and a phrase + taken out twenty shillings. In a copy of <i>Indiana</i> he crossed out all + the useless epithets. This must have made a considerable difference to the + length of the book. George Sand was too broad-minded to be hurt by such + criticism, and she was intelligent enough to learn a lesson from it. + </p> + <p> + Musset's transformation was singularly deeper. When he started for Venice, + he was the youngest and most charming of poets, fanciful and full of fun. + "Monsieur mon gamin d'Alfred," George Sand called him at that time. When + he returned from there, he was the saddest of poets. For some time he was, + as it were, stunned. His very soul seemed to be bowed down with his grief. + He was astonished at the change he felt in himself, and he did not by any + means court any fresh inspiration. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>J'ai vu, le temps ou ma jeunesse</i> + <i>Sur mes levres etait sans cesse</i> + <i>Prete a chanter comme un oiseau;</i> + <i>Mais j'ai souffert un dur martyre</i> + <i>Et le moins que j'en pourrais dire</i>, + <i>Si je lessayais sur a lyre</i>, + <i>La briserait comme un roseau</i>, +</pre> + <p> + he writes. + </p> + <p> + In the <i>Nuit de Mai</i>, the earliest of these songs of despair, we have + the poet's symbol of the pelican giving its entrails as food to its + starving young. The only symbols that we get in this poetry are symbols of + sadness, and these are at times given in magnificent fulness of detail. We + have solitude in the <i>Nuit de decembre</i>, and the labourer whose house + has been burnt in the <i>Lettre a Lamartine</i>. The <i>Nuit d'aout</i> + gives proof of a wild effort to give life another trial, but in the <i>Auit + d'octobre</i> anger gets the better of him once more. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>Honte a toi, qui la premiere + M'as appris la trahison . . . !</i> +</pre> + <p> + The question has often been asked whether the poet refers here to the + woman he loved in Venice but it matters little whether he did or not. He + only saw her through the personage who from henceforth symbolized "woman" + to him and the suffering which she may cause a man. And yet, as this + suffering became less intense, softened as it was by time, he began to + discover the benefit of it. His soul had expanded, so that he was now in + communion with all that is great in Nature and in Art. The harmony of the + sky, the silence of night, the murmur of flowing water, Petrarch, Michel + Angelo, Shakespeare, all appealed to him. The day came when he could + write: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>Un souvenir heureux est peut-etre sur terre + Plus vrai que le bonheur</i>. +</pre> + <p> + This is the only philosophy for a conception of life which treats love as + everything for man. He not only pardons now, but he is grateful: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>Je ne veux rien savoir, ni si les champs fleurissent, + Nice quil adviendra di., simulacre humain, + Ni si ces vastes cieux eclaireront demain + Ce qu' ils ensevelissent heure, en ce lieu, + Je me dis seulement: a cette + Un jour, je fus aime, j'aimais, elle etait belle, + Jenfouis ce tresor dans mon ame immortelle + Et je l'em porte a Dieu.</i> +</pre> + <p> + This love poem, running through all he wrote from the <i>Nuit de Mai</i> + to the <i>Souvenir</i>, is undoubtedly the most beautiful and the most + profoundly human of anything in the French language. The charming poet had + become a great poet. That shock had occurred within him which is felt by + the human being to the very depths of his soul, and makes of him a new + creature. It is in this sense that the theory of the romanticists, with + regard to the educative virtues of suffering, is true. But it is not only + suffering in connection with our love affairs which has this special + privilege. After some misfortune which uproots, as it were, our life, + after some disappointment which destroys our moral edifice, the world + appears changed to us. The whole network of accepted ideas and of + conventional opinions is broken asunder. We find ourselves in direct + contact with reality, and the shock makes our true nature come to the + front. . . . Such was the crisis through which Musset had just passed. The + man came out of it crushed and bruised, but the poet came through it + triumphant. + </p> + <p> + It has been insisted on too much that George Sand was only the reflection + of the men who had approached her. In the case of Musset it was the + contrary. Musset owed her more than she owed to him. She transformed him + by the force of her strong individuality. She, on the contrary, only found + in Musset a child, and what she was seeking was a dominator. + </p> + <p> + She thought she had discovered him this very year 1835. + </p> + <p> + The sixth <i>Lettre d'un voyageur</i> was addressed to Everard. This + Everard was considered by her to be a superior man. He was so much above + the average height that George Sand advised him to sit down when he was + with other men, as when standing he was too much above them. She compares + him to Atlas carrying the world, and to Hercules in a lion's skin. But + among all her comparisons, when she is seeking to give the measure of his + superiority, without ever really succeeding in this, it is evident that + the comparison she prefers is that of Marius at Minturnae. He personifies + virtue a <i>l'antique:</i> he is the Roman. + </p> + <p> + Let us now consider to whom all this flattery was addressed, and who this + man, worthy of Plutarch's pen, was. His name was Michel, and he was an + advocate at Bourges. He was only thirty-seven years of age, but he looked + sixty. After Sandeau and Musset, George Sand had had enough of + "adolescents." She was very much struck with Michel, as he looked like an + old man. The size of his cranium was remarkable, or, as she said of his + craniums: "It seemed as though he had two craniums, one joined to the + other." She wrote: "The signs of the superior faculties of his mind were + as prominent at the prow of this strong vessel as those of his generous + instincts at the stern."(21) In order to understand this definition of the + "fine physique" by George Sand, we must remember that she was very much + taken up with phrenology at this time. One of her <i>Lettres d'un voyageur</i> + was entitled Sur <i>Lavater et sur une Maison deserte</i>. In a letter to + Madame d'Agoult, George Sand tells that her gardener gave notice to leave, + and, on asking him his reason, the simple-minded man replied: "Madame has + such an ugly head that my wife, who is expecting, might die of fright." + The head in question was a skull, an anatomical one with compartments all + marked and numbered, according to the system of Gall and Spurzheim. In + 1837, phrenology was very much in favour. In 1910, it is hypnotism, so we + have no right to judge the infatuation of another epoch. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (21) <i>Histoire de ma vie</i>. +</pre> + <p> + Michel's cranium was bald. He was short, slight, he stooped, was + short-sighted and wore glasses. It is George Sand who gives these details + for his portrait. He was born of peasant parents, and was of Jacobin + simplicity. He wore a thick, shapeless inverness and sabots. He felt the + cold very much, and used to ask permission to put on a muffler indoors. He + would then take three or four out of his pockets and put them on his head, + one over the other. In the <i>Lettre d'un voyageur</i> George Sand + mentions this crown on Everard's head. Such are the illusions of love. + </p> + <p> + The first time she met Michel was at Bourges. She went with her two + friends, Papet and Fleury, to call on him at the hotel. From seven o'clock + until midnight he never ceased talking. It was a magnificent night, and he + proposed a walk in the town at midnight. When they came back to his door + he insisted on taking them home, and so they continued walking backwards + and forwards until four in the morning. He must have been an inveterate + chatterer to have clung to this public of three persons at an hour when + the great buildings, with the moon throwing its white light over them and + everything around, must have suggested the majesty of silence. To people + who were amazed at this irrepressible eloquence, Michel answered + ingenuously: "Talking is thinking aloud. By thinking aloud in this way I + advance more quickly than if I thought quietly by myself." This was Numa + Roumestan's idea. "As for me," he said, "when I am not talking, I am not + thinking." As a matter of fact, Michel, like Numa, was a native of + Provence. In Paris there was a repetition of this nocturnal and roving + scene. Michel and his friends had come to a standstill on the Saints-Peres + bridge. They caught sight of the Tuileries lighted up for a ball. Michel + became excited, and, striking the innocent bridge and its parapet with his + stick, he exclaimed: "I tell you that if you are to freshen and renew your + corrupt society, this beautiful river will first have to be red with + blood, that accursed palace will have to be reduced to ashes, and the huge + city you are now looking at will have to be a bare strand where the family + of the poor man can use the plough and build a cottage home." + </p> + <p> + This was a fine phrase for a public meeting, but perhaps too fine for a + conversation between friends on the Saints-Peres bridge. + </p> + <p> + This was in 1835, at the most brilliant moment of Michel's career. It was + when he was taking part in the trial of the accused men of April. After + the insurrections of the preceding year at Lyons and Paris, a great trial + had commenced before the Chamber of Peers. We are told that: "The + Republican party was determined to make use of the cross-questioning of + the prisoners for accusing the Government and for preaching Republicanism + and Socialism. The idea was to invite a hundred and fifty noted + Republicans to Paris from all parts of France. In their quality of + defenders, they would be the orators of this great manifestation." + Barb'es, Blanqui, Flocon, Marie, Raspail, Trelat and Michel of Bourges + were among these Republicans. "On the 11th of May, the revolutionary + newspapers published a manifesto in which the committee for the defence + congratulated and encouraged the accused men. One hundred and ten + signatures were affixed to this document, which was a forgery. It had been + drawn up by a few of the upholders of the scheme, and, in order to make it + appear more important, they had affixed the names of their colleagues + without their authorization. Those who had done this then took fright, and + attempted to get out of the dangerous adventure by a public avowal. In + order to save the situation, two of the guilty party, Trelat and Michel of + Bourges, took the responsibility of the drawing up of the manifesto and + the apposition of the signatures upon themselves. They were sentenced by + the Court of Peers, Trelat to four years of prison and Michel to a + month."(22) This was the most shocking inequality, and Michel could not + forgive Trelat for getting such a fine sentence. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (22) Thureau Dangin, <i>Histoire de la Monarchie de Juillet</i>, + II. 297. +</pre> + <p> + What good was one month of prison? Michel's career certainly had been a + very ordinary one. He hesitated and tacked about. In a word, he was just a + politician. George Sand tells us that he was obliged "to accept, in + theory, what he called the necessities of pure politics, ruse, + charlatanism and even untruth, concessions that were not sincere, + alliances in which he did not believe, and vain promises." We should say + that he was a radical opportunist. To be merely an opportunist, though, is + not enough for ensuring success. There are different ways of being an + opportunist. Michel had been elected a Deputy, but he had no <i>role</i> + to play. In 1848, he could not compete with the brilliancy of Raspail, nor + had he the prestige of Flocon. He went into the shade completely after the + <i>coup d'etat</i>. For a long time he had really preferred business to + politics, and a choice must be made when one is not a member of the + Government. + </p> + <p> + It is easy to see what charmed George Sand in Michel. He was a sectarian, + and she took him for an apostle. He was brutal, and she thought him + energetic. He had been badly brought up, but she thought him simply + austere. He was a tyrant, but she only saw in him a master. He had told + her that he would have her guillotined at the first possible opportunity. + This was an incontestable proof of superiority. She was sincere herself, + and was consequently not on her guard against vain boasting. He had + alarmed her, and she admired him for this, and at once incarnated in him + that stoical ideal of which she had been dreaming for years and had not + yet been able to attribute to any one else. + </p> + <p> + This is how she explained to Michel her reasons for loving him. "I love + you," she says, "because whenever I figure to myself grandeur, wisdom, + strength and beauty, your image rises up before me. No other man has ever + exercised any moral influence over me. My mind, which has always been wild + and unfettered, has never accepted any guidance. . . . You came, and you + have taught me." Then again she says: "It is you whom I love, whom I have + loved ever since I was born, and through all the phantoms in whom I + thought, for a moment, that I had found you." According to this, it was + Michel she loved through Musset. Let us hope that she was mistaken. + </p> + <p> + A whole correspondence exists between George Sand and Michel of Bourges. + Part of it was published not long ago in the <i>Revue illustree</i> under + the title of <i>Lettres de lemmze</i>. None of George Sand's letters + surpass these epistles to Michel for fervent passion, beauty of form, and + a kind of superb <i>impudeur</i>. Let us take, for instance, this call to + her beloved. George Sand, after a night of work, complains of fatigue, + hunger and cold: "Oh, my lover," she cries, "appear, and, like the earth + on the return of the May sunshine, I should be reanimated, and would fling + off my shroud of ice and thrill with love. The wrinkles of suffering would + disappear from my brow, and I should seem beautiful and young to you, for + I should leap with joy into your iron strong arms. Come, come, and I shall + have strength, health, youth, gaiety, hope. . . . I will go forth to meet + you like the bride of the song, 'to her well-beloved.'" The Well-beloved + to whom this Shulamite would hasten was a bald-headed provincial lawyer + who wore spectacles and three mufflers. But it appears that his "beauty, + veiled and unintelligible to the vulgar, revealed itself, like that of + Jupiter hidden under human form, to the women whom he loved." + </p> + <p> + We must not smile at these mythological comparisons. George Sand had, as + it were, restored for herself that condition of soul to which the ancient + myths are due. A great current of naturalist poetry circulates through + these pages. In Theocritus and in Rousard there are certain descriptive + passages. There is an analogy between them and that image of the horse + which carries George Sand along on her impetuous course. + </p> + <p> + "As soon as he catches sight of me, he begins to paw the ground and rear + impatiently. I have trained him to clear a hundred fathoms a second. The + sky and the ground disappear when he bears me along under those long + vaults formed by the apple-trees in blossom. . . . The least sound of my + voice makes him bound like a ball; the smallest bird makes him shudder and + hurry along like a child with no experience. He is scarcely five years + old, and he is timid and restive. His black crupper shines in the sunshine + like a raven's wing." This description has all the relief of an antique + figure. Another time, George Sand tells how she has seen Phoebus throw off + her robe of clouds and rush along radiant into the pure sky. The following + day she writes: "She was eaten by the evil spirits. The dark sprites from + Erebus, riding on sombre-looking clouds, threw themselves on her, and it + was in vain that she struggled." We might compare these passages with a + letter of July 10, 1836, in which she tells how she throws herself, all + dressed as she is, into the Indre, and then continues her course through + the sunny meadows, and with what voluptuousness she revels in all the joys + of primitive life, and imagines herself living in the beautiful times of + ancient Greece. There are days and pages when George Sand, under the + afflux of physical life, is pagan. Her genius then is that of the + greenwood divinities, who, at certain times of the year, were intoxicated + by the odour of the meadows and the sap of the woods. If some day we were + to have her complete correspondence given to us, I should not be surprised + if many people preferred it to her letters to Musset. In the first place, + it is not spoiled by that preoccupation which the Venice lovers had, of + writing literature. Mingled with the accents of sincere passion, we do not + find extraordinary conceptions of paradoxical metaphysics. It is Nature + which speaks in these letters, and for that very reason they are none the + less sorrowful. They, too, tell us of a veritable martyrdom. We can easily + imagine from them that Michel was coarse, despotic, faithless and jealous. + We know, too, that more than once George Sand came very near losing all + patience with him, so that we can sympathize with her when she wrote to + Madame d'Agoult in July, 1836: + </p> + <p> + "I have had, my fill of great men (excuse the expression). . . . I prefer + to see them all in Plutarch, as they would not then cause me any suffering + on the human side. May they all be carved in marble or cast in bronze, but + may I hear no more about them!" <i>Amen</i>. + </p> + <p> + What disgusted George Sand with her Michel was his vanity and his craving + for adulation. In July, 1837, she had come to the end of her patience, as + she wrote to Girerd. It was one of her peculiarities to always take a + third person into her confidence. At the time of Sandeau, this third + person was Emile Regnault; at the time of Musset, Sainte-Beuve, and now it + was Girerd. "I am tired out with my own devotion, and I have fought + against my pride with all the strength of my love. I have had nothing but + ingratitude and hardness as my recompense. I have felt my love dying away + and my soul being crushed, but I am cured at last. . . ." If only she had + had all this suffering for the sake of a great man, but this time it was + only in imaginary great man. + </p> + <p> + The influence, though, that he had had over her thought was real, and in a + certain way beneficial. + </p> + <p> + At the beginning she was far from sharing Michel's ideas, and for some of + them she felt an aversion which amounted to horror. The dogma of absolute + equality seemed an absurdity to her. The Republic, or rather the various + republics then in gestation, appeared to her a sort of Utopia, and as she + saw each of her friends making "his own little Republic" for himself, she + had not much faith in the virtue of that form of government for uniting + all French people. One point shocked her above all others in Michel's + theories. This politician did not like artists. Just as the Revolution did + not find chemists necessary, he considered that the Republic did not need + writers, painters and musicians. These were all useless individuals, and + the Republic would give them a little surprise by putting a labourer's + spade or a shoemaker's awl into their hands. George Sand considered this + idea not only barbarous, but silly. + </p> + <p> + Time works wonders, for we have an indisputable proof that certain of his + opinions soon became hers. This proof is the Republican catechism + contained in her letters to her son Maurice, who was then twelve years of + age. He was at the Lycee Henri IV, in the same class as the princes of + Orleans. It is interesting to read what his mother says to him concerning + the father of his young school friends. In a letter, written in December, + 1835, she says: "It is certainly true that Louis-Philippe is the enemy of + humanity. . . ." Nothing less than that! A little later, the enemy of + humanity invites the young friends of his son Montpensier to his <i>chateau</i> + for the carnival holiday. Maurice is allowed to accept the invitation, as + he wishes to, but he is to avoid showing that gratitude which destroys + independence. "The entertainments that Montpensier offers you are + favours," writes this mother of the Gracchi quite gravely. If he is asked + about his opinions, the child is to reply that he is rather too young to + have opinions yet, but not too young to know what opinions he will have + when he is free to have them. "You can reply," says his mother, "that you + are Republican by race and by nature." She then adds a few aphorisms. + "Princes are our natural enemies," she says; and then again: "However + good-hearted the child of a king may be, he is destined to be a tyrant." + All this is certainly a great commotion to make about her little son + accepting a glass of fruit syrup and a few cakes at the house of a + schoolfellow. But George Sand was then under the domination of + "Robespierre in person." + </p> + <p> + Michel had brought George Sand over to republicanism. Without wishing to + exaggerate the service he had rendered her by this, it appears to me that + it certainly was one, if we look at it in one way. Rightly or wrongly, + George Sand had seen in Michel the man who devotes himself entirely to a + cause of general interest. She had learnt something in his school, and + perhaps all the more thoroughly because it was in his school. She had + learnt that love is in any case a selfish passion. She had learnt that + another object must be given to the forces of sympathy of a generous + heart, and that such an object may be the service of humanity, devotion to + an idea. + </p> + <p> + This was a turn in the road, and led the writer on to leave the personal + style for the impersonal style. + </p> + <p> + There was another service, too, which Michel had rendered to George Sand. + He had pleaded for her in her petition for separation from her husband, + and she had won her case. + </p> + <p> + Ever since George Sand had taken back her independence in 1831, her + intercourse with Dudevant had not been disagreeable. She and her husband + exchanged cordial letters. When he came to Paris, he made no attempt to + stay with his wife, lest he should inconvenience her. "I shall put up at + Hippolyte's," he says in his letter to her. "I do not want to + inconvenience you in the least, nor to be inconvenienced myself, which is + quite natural." He certainly was a most discreet husband. When she started + for Italy, he begs her to take advantage of so good an opportunity for + seeing such a beautiful country. He was also a husband ready to give good + advice. Later on, he invited Pagello to spend a little time at Nohant. + This was certainly the climax in this strange story. + </p> + <p> + During the months, though, that the husband and wife were together, again + at Nohant, the scenes began once more. Dudevant's irritability was + increased by the fact that he was always short of money, and that he was + aware of his own deplorable shortcomings as a financial administrator. He + had made speculations which had been disastrous. He was very credulous, as + so many suspicious people are, and he had been duped by a swindler in an + affair of maritime armaments. He had had all the more faith in this + enterprise because a picture of the boat had been shown him on paper. He + had spent ninety thousand francs of the hundred thousand he had had, and + was now living on his wife's income. Something had to be decided upon. + George Sand paid his debts first, and the husband and wife then signed an + agreement to the effect that their respective property should be + separated. Dudevant regretted having signed this afterwards, and it was + torn up after a violent scene which took place before witnesses in + October, 1835. The pretext of this scene had been an order given to + Maurice. In a series of letters, which have never hitherto been published, + George Sand relates the various incidents of this affair. We give some of + the more important passages. The following letter is to her half-brother + Hippolyte, who used to be Casimir's drinking companion. + </p> + <p> + <i>"To Hippolyte Chatiron.</i> + </p> + <p> + "My friend, I am about to tell you some news which will reach you + indirectly, and that you had better hear first from me. Instead of + carrying out our agreement pleasantly and loyally, Casimir is acting with + the most insane animosity towards me. Without my giving him any reason for + such a thing, either by my conduct or my manner of treating him, he + endeavoured to strike me. He was prevented by five persons, one of whom + was Dutheil, and he then fetched his gun to shoot me. As you can imagine, + he was not allowed to do this. + </p> + <p> + "On account of such treatment and of his hatred, which amounts to madness, + there is no safety for me in a house to which he always has the right to + come. I have no guarantee, except his own will and pleasure, that he will + keep our agreement, and I cannot remain at the mercy of a man who behaves + so unreasonably and indelicately to me. I have therefore decided to ask + for a legal separation, and I shall no doubt obtain this. Casimir made + this frightful scene the evening before leaving for Paris. On his return + here, he found the house empty, and me staying at Dutheil's, by permission + of the President of La Chatre. He also found a summons awaiting him on the + mantelshelf. He had to make the best of it, for he knew it was no use + attempting to fight against the result of his own folly, and that, by + holding out, the scandal would all fall on him. He made the following + stipulations, promising to adhere to them. Duthell was our intermediary. I + am to allow him a pension of 3,800 francs, which, with the 1,200 francs + income that he now has, will make 5,000 francs a year for him. I think + this is all straightforward, as I am paying for the education of the two + children. My daughter will remain under my guidance, as I understand. My + son will remain at the college where he now is until he has finished his + education. During the holidays he will spend a month with his father and a + month with me. In this way, there will be no contest. Dudevant will return + to Paris very soon, without making any opposition, and the Court will + pronounce the separation in default."(23) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (23) Communicated by M. S. Rocheblave. +</pre> + <p> + The following amusing letter on the same subject was written by George + Sand to Adolphe Duplomb in the <i>patois</i> peculiar to Berry: + </p> + <p> + "DEAR HYDROGEN, + </p> + <p> + "You have been misinformed about what took place at La Chatre. Duthell + never quarrelled with the Baron of Nohant-Vic. This is the true story. The + baron took it into his head to strike me. Dutheil objected. Fleury and + Papet also objected. The baron went to search for his gun to kill every + one. Every one did not want to be killed, and so the baron said: 'Well, + that's enough then,' and began to drink again. That was how it all + happened. No one quarrelled with him. But I had had enough. As I do not + care to earn my living and then leave <i>my substance</i> in the hands of + the <i>diable</i> and be bowed out of the house every year, while the + village hussies sleep in my beds and bring their fleas into my house, I + just said: 'I ain't going to have any more of that,' and I went and found + the big judge of La Chatre, and I says, says I: 'That's how it is.' And + then he says, says he: 'All right.' And so he unmarried us. And I am not + sorry. They say that the baron will make an appeal. I ain't knowin'. We + shall see. If he does, he'll lose everything. And that's the whole + story."(24) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (24) Communicated by M. Charles Duplomb. +</pre> + <p> + The case was pleaded in March, 1836, at La Chatre, and in July at Bourges. + The Court granted the separation, and the care of the children was + attributed to George Sand. + </p> + <p> + This was not the end of the affair, though. In September, 1837, George + Sand was warned that Dudevant intended to get Maurice away from her. She + sent a friend on whom she could count to take her boy to Fontainebleau, + and then went herself to watch over him. In the mean time, Dudevant, not + finding his son at Nohant, took Solange away with him, in spite of the + child's tears and the resistance of the governess. George Sand gave notice + to the police, and, on discovering that her little daughter was + sequestered at Guillery, near Nerac, she went herself in a post-chaise to + the sub-prefect, a charming young man, who was no other than Baron + Haussmann. On hearing the story, he went himself with her, and, + accompanied by the lieutenant of the constabulary and the sheriff's + officer on horseback, laid siege to the house at Guillery in which the + young girl was imprisoned. Dudevant brought his daughter to the door and + handed her over to her mother, threatening at the same time to take + Maurice from her by legal authority. The husband and wife then separated . + . . delighted with each other, according to George Sand. They very rarely + met after this affair. Dudevant certainly did not impress people very + favourably. After the separation, when matters were being finally settled, + he put in a claim for fifteen pots of jam and an iron frying-pan. All this + seems very petty. + </p> + <p> + The first use George Sand made of the liberty granted to her by the law, + in 1836, was to start off with Maurice and Solange for Switzerland to join + her friends Franz Liszt and the Comtesse d'Agoult. George Sand had made + Liszt's acquaintance through Musset. Liszt gave music-lessons to Alfred's + sister, Herminie. He was born in 1811, so that he was seven years younger + than George Sand. He was twenty-three at the time he first met her, and + their friendship was always platonic. They had remarkable affinities of + nature. Liszt had first thought of becoming a priest. His religious + fervour was gradually transformed into an ardent love of humanity. His + early education had been neglected, and he now read eagerly. He once asked + Monsieur Cremieux, the advocate, to teach him "the whole of French + literature." On relating this to some one, Cremieux remarked: "Great + confusion seems to reign in this young man's mind." He had been wildly + excited during the movement of 1830, greatly influenced by the Saint-Simon + ideas, and was roused to enthusiasm by Lamennals, who had just published + the <i>Paroles d'un Croyant</i>. After reading Leone Leoni, he became an + admirer of George Sand. Leone Leoni is a transposition of Manon Lescaut + into the romantic style. A young girl named Juliette has been seduced by a + young seigneur, and then discovers that this man is an abominable + swindler. If we try to imagine all the infamous things of which an <i>apache</i> + would be capable, who at the same time is devoted to the women of the + pavement, we then have Leone Leoni. Juliette, who is naturally honest and + straightforward, has a horror of all the atrocities and shameful things + she sees. And yet, in spite of all, she comes back to Leone Leoni, and + cannot love any one else. Her love is stronger than she is, and her + passion sweeps away all scruples and triumphs over all scruples. The + difference between the novel of the eighteenth century, which was so true + to life, and this lyrical fantasy of the nineteenth century is very + evident. Manon and Des Grieux always remained united to each other, for + they were of equal value. Everything took place in the lower depths of + society, and in the mire, as it were, of the heart. You have only to make + a good man of Des Grieux, or a virtuous girl of Manon, and it is all over. + The transposing of Leone Leoni is just this, and the romanticism of it + delighted Liszt. + </p> + <p> + He had just given a fine example of applying romanticism to life. Marie + d'Agoult, <i>nee</i> de Flavigny, had decided, one fine day, to leave her + husband and daughter for the sake of the passion that was everything to + her. She accordingly started for Geneva, and Liszt joined her there. + </p> + <p> + Between these two women a friendship sprang up, which was due rather to a + wish to like each other than to a real attraction or real fellow-feeling. + The Comtesse d'Agoult, with her blue eyes, her slender figure, and + somewhat ethereal style, was a veritable Diana, an aristocrat and a + society woman. George Sand was her exact opposite. But the Comtesse + d'Agoult had just "sacrificed all the vanities of the world for the sake + of an artist," so that she deserved consideration. The stay at Geneva was + gay and animated. The <i>Piffoels</i> (George Sand and her children) and + the <i>Fellows</i> (Liszt and his pupil, Hermann Cohen) enjoyed + scandalizing the whole hotel by their Bohemian ways. They went for an + excursion to the frozen lake. At Lausanne Liszt played the organ. On + returning to Paris the friends did not want to separate. In October, 1836, + George Sand took up her abode on the first floor of the Hotel de France, + in the Rue Laffitte, and Liszt and the Corntesse d'Agoult took a room on + the floor above. The trio shared, a drawing-room between them, but in + reality it became more the Comtesse d'Agoult's <i>salon</i> than George + Sand's. Lamennais, Henri Heine, Mickiewicz, Michel of Bourges and Charles + Didier were among their visitors, and we are told that this <i>salon</i>, + improvised in a hotel was "a reunion of the <i>elite</i>, over which the + Comtesse d'Agoult presided with exquisite grace." She was a true society + woman, a veritable mistress of her home, one of those who could transform + a room in a hotel, a travelling carriage, or even a prison into that + exquisite thing, so dear to French polite society of yore—a <i>salon</i>. + </p> + <p> + Among the <i>habitues</i> of Madame d'Agoult's <i>salon</i> was Chopin. + This is a new chapter in George Sand's life, and a little later on we + shall be able to consider, as a whole, the importance of this intercourse + with great artists as regards her intellectual development. + </p> + <p> + Before finishing our study of this epoch in her life, we must notice how + much George Sand's talent had developed and blossomed out. <i>Mauprat</i> + was published in 1837, and is undoubtedly the first of her <i>chefs-d'oeuvre</i>. + In her uninterrupted literary production, which continued regularly in + spite of and through all the storms of her private life, there is much + that is strange and second-rate and much that is excellent. <i>Jacques</i> + is an extraordinary piece of work. It was written at Venice when she was + with Pagello. George Sand declared that she had neither put herself nor + Musset into this book. She was nevertheless inspired by their case, and + she merely transposed their ideal of renunciation. <i>Andre</i> may be + classed among the second-rate work. It is the story of a young noble who + seduces a girl of the working-class. It is a souvenir of Berry, written in + a home-sick mood when George Sand was at Venice. <i>Simon</i> also belongs + to the second-rate category. The portrait of Michel of Bourges can easily + be traced in it. George Sand had intended doing more for Michel than this. + She composed a revolutionary novel in three volumes, in his honour, + entitled: <i>Engelwald with the high forehead</i>. Buloz neither cared for + <i>Engelwald</i> nor for his high forehead, and this novel was never + published. + </p> + <p> + According to George Sand, when she wrote <i>Mauprat</i> her idea was the + rehabilitation of marriage. "I had just been petitioning for a + separation," she says. "I had, until then, been fighting against the + abuses of marriage, and, as I had never developed my ideas sufficiently, I + had given every one the notion that I despised the essential principles of + it. On the contrary, marriage really appeared to me in all the moral + beauty of those principles, and in my book I make my hero, at the age of + eighty, proclaim his faithfulness to the only woman he has ever loved." + </p> + <p> + "She is the only woman I have ever loved," says Bernard de Mauprat. "No + other woman has ever attracted my attention or been embraced by me. I am + like that. When I love, I love for ever, in the past, in the present and + in the future." + </p> + <p> + <i>Mauprat</i>, then, according to George Sand, was a novel with a + purpose, just as <i>Indiana</i> was, although they each had an opposite + purpose. Fortunately it is nothing of the kind. This is one of those + explanations arranged afterwards, peculiar sometimes to authors. The + reality about all this is quite different. + </p> + <p> + In this book George Sand had just given the reins to her imagination, + without allowing sociological preoccupations to spoil everything. During + her excursions in Berry, she had stopped to gaze at the ruins of an old + feudal castle. We all know the power of suggestion contained in those old + stones, and how wonderfully they tell stories of the past they have + witnessed to those persons who know how to question them. The remembrance + of the <i>chateau</i> of Roche Mauprat came to the mind of the novelist. + She saw it just as it stood before the Revolution, a fortress, and at the + same time a refuge for the wild lord and his eight sons, who used to sally + forth and ravage the country. In French narrative literature there is + nothing to surpass the first hundred pages in which George Sand introduces + us to the burgraves of central France. She is just as happy when she takes + us to Paris with Bernard de Mauprat, to Paris of the last days of the old + <i>regime</i>. She introduces us to the society which she had learnt to + know through the traditions of her grandmother. It is not only Nature, but + history, which she uses as a setting for her story. How cleverly, too, she + treats the analysis which is the true subject of the book, that of + education through love. We see the untamed nature of Bernard de Mauprat + gradually giving way under the influence of the noble and delicious Edmee. + </p> + <p> + There are typical peasants, too, in <i>Mauprat</i>. We have Marcasse, the + mole-catcher, and Patience, the good-natured Patience, the rustic + philosopher, well up in Epictetus and in Jean-Jacques Rousseau, who has + gone into the woods to live his life according to the laws of Nature and + to find the wisdom of the primitive days of the world. We are told that, + during the Revolution, Patience was a sort of intermediary between the <i>chateau</i> + and the cottage, and that he helped in bringing about the reign of equity + in his district. It is to be hoped this was so. + </p> + <p> + In any case, it is very certain that we come across this Patience again in + Russian novels with a name ending in <i>ow</i> or <i>ew</i>. This is a + proof that if the personage seems somewhat impossible, he was at any rate + original, new and entertaining. + </p> + <p> + We hear people say that George Sand is no longer read. It is to be hoped + that <i>Mauprat</i> is still read, otherwise our modern readers miss one + of the finest stories in the history of novels. This, then, is the point + at which we have arrived in the evolution of George Sand's genius. There + may still be modifications in her style, and her talent may still be + refreshed under various influences, but with <i>Mauprat</i> she took her + place in the first rank of great storytellers. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI + </h2> + <h3> + A CASE OF MATERNAL AFFECTION IN LOVE + </h3> + <p> + CHOPIN + </p> + <p> + We have passed over George Sand's intercourse with Liszt and Madame + d'Agoult very rapidly. One of Balzac's novels gives us an opportunity of + saying a few more words about it. + </p> + <p> + Balzac had been introduced to George Sand by Jules Sandeau. At the time of + her rupture with his friend, Balzac had sided entirely with him. In the <i>Lettres + a l'Etrangere</i>, we see the author of the <i>Comedie humaine</i> pouring + out his indignation with the blue stocking, who was so cruel in her love, + in terms which were not extremely elegant. Gradually, and when he knew + more about the adventure, his anger cooled down. In March, 1838, he gave + Madame Zulma Carraud an account of a visit to Nohant. He found his + comrade, George Sand, in her dressing-gown, smoking a cigar by her + fireside after dinner. + </p> + <p> + "She had some pretty yellow slippers on, ornamented with fringe, some + fancy stockings and red trousers. So much for the moral side. Physically, + she had doubled her chin like a canoness. She had not a single white hair, + in spite of all her fearful misfortunes; her dusky complexion had not + changed. Her beautiful eyes were just as bright, and she looked just as + stupid as ever when she was thinking. . . ." + </p> + <p> + This is George Sand in her thirty-fifth year, as she was at the time of + the fresh adventure we are about to relate. + </p> + <p> + Balzac continues by giving us a few details about the life of the + authoress. It was very much like his own, except that Balzac went to bed + at six o'clock and got up at midnight, and George Sand went to bed at six + in the morning and got up at noon. He adds the following remark, which + shows us the state of her feelings: + </p> + <p> + "She is now in a very quiet retreat, and condemns both marriage and love, + because she has had nothing but disappointment in both herself. Her man + was a rare one, that was really all." + </p> + <p> + In the course of their friendly conversation, George Sand gave him the + subject for a novel which it would be rather awkward for her to write. The + novel was to be <i>Galeriens</i> or <i>Amours forces</i>. These + "galley-slaves" of love were Liszt and the Comtesse d'Agoult, who had been + with George Sand at Chamonix, Paris and Nohant. It was very evident that + she could not write the novel herself. + </p> + <p> + Balzac accordingly wrote it, and it figures in the <i>Comedie humaine as + Beatrix</i>. Beatrix is the Comtesse d'Agoult, the inspirer, and Liszt is + the composer Conti. + </p> + <p> + "You have no idea yet of the awful rights that a love which no longer + exists gives to a man over a woman. The convict is always under the + domination of the companion chained to him. I am lost, and must return to + the convict prison," writes Balzac in this book. Then, too, there is no + mistaking his portrait of Beatrix. The fair hair that seems to give light, + the forehead which looks transparent, the sweet, charming face, the long, + wonderfully shaped neck, and, above and beyond all, that air of a + princess, in all this we can easily recognize "the fair, blue-eyed Peri." + Not content with bringing this illustrious couple into his novel, Balzac + introduces other contemporaries. Claude Vignon (who, although his special + work was criticism, made a certain place for himself in literature) and + George Sand herself appear in this book. She is Felicite des Touches, and + her pen name is Camille Maupin. "Camille is an artist," we are told; "she + has genius, and she leads an exceptional life such as could not be judged + in the same way as an ordinary existence." Some one asks how she writes + her books, and the answer is: "Just in the same way as you do your woman's + work, your netting or your tapestry." She is said to have the intelligence + of an angel and even more heart than talent. With her fixed, set gaze, her + dark complexion and her masculine ways, she is the exact antithesis of the + fair Beatrix. She is constantly being compared to the latter, and is + evidently preferred to her. It is very evident from whom Balzac gets his + information, and it is also evident that the friendship between the two + women has cooled down. + </p> + <p> + The cause of the coolness between them was George Sand's infatuation for + Chopin, whom she had known through Liszt and Madame d'Agoult. George Sand + wrote to Liszt from Nohant, in March, 1837: "Tell Chopin that I hope he + will come with you. Marie cannot live without him, and I adore him." In + April she wrote to Madame d'Agoult: "Tell Chopin that I idolize him." We + do not know whether Madame d'Agoult gave the message, but she certainly + replied: "Chopin coughs with infinite grace. He is an irresolute man. The + only thing about him that is permanent is his cough." This is certainly + very feminine in its ferociousness. + </p> + <p> + At the time when he came into George Sand's life, Chopin, the composer and + virtuoso, was the favourite of Parisian <i>salons</i>, the pianist in + vogue. He was born in 1810, so that he was then twenty-seven years of age. + His success was due, in the first place, to his merits as an artist, and + nowhere is an artist's success so great as in Paris. Chopin's delicate + style was admirably suited to the dimensions and to the atmosphere of a <i>salon</i>.(25) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (25) As regards Chopin, I have consulted a biography by + Liszt, a study by M. Camille Bellaigue and the volume by M. + Elie Poiree in the <i>Collection des musiciens celebres</i>, + published by H. Laurens. +</pre> + <p> + He confessed to Liszt that a crowd intimidated him, that he felt + suffocated by all the quick breathing and paralyzed by the inquisitive + eyes turned on him. "You were intended for all this," he adds, "as, if you + do not win over your public, you can at least overwhelm it." + </p> + <p> + Chopin was made much of then in society. He was fragile and delicate, and + had always been watched over and cared for. He had grown up in a peaceful, + united family, in one of those simple homes in which all the details of + everyday life become less prosaic, thanks to an innate distinction of + sentiment and to religious habits. Prince Radziwill had watched over + Chopin's education. He had been received when quite young in the most + aristocratic circles, and "the most celebrated beauties had smiled on him + as a youth." Social life, then, and feminine influence had thus helped to + make him ultra refined. It was very evident to every one who met him that + he was a well-bred man, and this is quickly observed, even with pianists. + On arriving he made a good impression, he was well dressed, his white + gloves were immaculate. He was reserved and somewhat languid. Every one + knew that he was delicate, and there was a rumour of an unhappy love + affair. It was said that he had been in love with a girl, and that her + family had refused to consent to her marriage with him. People said he was + like his own music, the dreamy, melancholy themes seemed to accord so well + with the pale young face of the composer. The fascination of the languor + which seemed to emanate from the man and from his work worked its way, in + a subtle manner, into the hearts of his hearers. Chopin did not care to + know Lelia. He did not like women writers, and he was rather alarmed at + this one. It was Liszt who introduced them. In his biography of Chopin, he + tells us that the extremely sensitive artist, who was so easily alarmed, + dreaded "this woman above all women, as, like a priestess of Delphi, she + said so many things that the others could not have said. He avoided her + and postponed the introduction. Madame Sand had no idea that she was + feared as a sylph. . . ." She made the first advances. It is easy to see + what charmed her in him. In the first place, he appealed to her as he did + to all women, and then, too, there was the absolute contrast of their two + opposite natures. She was all force, of an expansive, exuberant nature. He + was very discreet, reserved and mysterious. It seems that the Polish + characteristic is to lend oneself, but never to give oneself away, and one + of Chopin's friends said of him that he was "more Polish than Poland + itself." Such a contrast may prove a strong attraction, and then, too, + George Sand was very sensitive to the charm of music. But what she saw + above all in Chopin was the typical artist, just as she understood the + artist, a dreamer, lost in the clouds, incapable of any activity that was + practical, a "lover of the impossible." And then, too, he was ill. When + Musset left Venice, after all the atrocious nights she had spent at his + bedside, she wrote: "Whom shall I have now to look after and tend?" In + Chopin she found some one to tend. + </p> + <p> + About this time, she was anxious about the health of her son Maurice, and + she thought she would take her family to Majorca. This was a lamentable + excursion, but it seemed satisfactory at first. They travelled by way of + Lyons, Avignon, Vaucluse and Nimes. At Perpignan, Chopin arrived, "as + fresh as a rose." "Our journey," wrote George Sand, "seems to be under the + most favourable conditions." They then went on to Barcelona and to Palma. + In November, 1838, George Sand wrote a most enthusiastic letter: "It is + poetry, solitude, all that is most artistic and <i>chique</i> on earth. + And what skies, what a country; we are delighted."(26) The disenchantment + was soon to begin, though. The first difficulty was to find lodgings, and + the second to get furniture. There was no wood to burn and there was no + linen to be had. It took two months to have a pair of tongs made, and it + cost twenty-eight pounds at the customs for a piano to enter the country. + With great difficulty, the forlorn travellers found a country-house + belonging to a man named Gomez, which they were able to rent. It was + called the "Windy House." The wind did not inconvenience them like the + rain, which now commenced. Chopin could not endure the heat and the odour + of the fires. His disease increased, and this was the origin of the great + tribulations that were to follow. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Buloz: + + <i>Monday 13th.</i> + + MY DEAR CHRISTINE, + + "I have only been at Palma four days. My journey has been + very satisfactory, but rather long and difficult until we + were out of France. I took up my pen (as people say) twenty + times over to write the last five or six pages for which + <i>Spiridion</i> has been waiting for six months. It is not the + easiest thing in the world, I can assure you, to give the + conclusion of one's own religious belief, and when + travelling it is impossible. At twenty different places I + have resolved to think it solemnly over and to write down my + conclusion. But these stoppages were the most tiring part of + our journey. There were visits, dinners, walks, curiosities, + ruins, the Vaucluse fountain, Reboul and the Nimes arena, + the Barcelona cathedrals, dinners on board the war-ships, + the Italian theatres of Spain (and what theatres and what + Italians!), guitars and Heaven knows what beside. There was + the moonlight on the sea and above all Valma and Mallorca, + the most delightful place in the world, and all this kept me + terribly far away from philosophy and theology. Fortunately + I have found some superb convents here all in ruins, with + palm-trees, aloes and the cactus in the midst of broken + mosaics and crumbling cloisters, and this takes me back to + <i>Spiridion</i>. For the last three days I have had a rage for + work, which I cannot satisfy yet, as we have neither fire + nor lodging. There is not an inn in Palma, no house to let + and no furniture to be bought. On arriving here people first + have to buy some ground, then build, and afterwards send for + furniture. After this, permission to live somewhere has to + be obtained from Government, and after five or six years one + can think about opening one's trunk and changing one's + chemise, whilst waiting for permission from the Customs to + have some shoes and handkerchiefs passed. For the last four + days then we have spent our time going from door to door, as + we do not want to sleep in the open air. We hope now to be + settled in about three days, as a miracle has taken place. + For the first time in the memory of man, there is a + furnished house to let in Mallorca, a charming country-house + in a delightful desert. . . ." +</pre> + <p> + At that time Spain was the very last country in which to travel with a + consumptive patient. In a very fine lecture, the subject of which was <i>The + Fight with Tuberculosis</i>,(27) Dr. Landouzy proves to us that ever since + the sixteenth century, in the districts of the Mediterranean, in Spain, in + the Balearic Isles and throughout the kingdom of Naples, tuberculosis was + held to be contagious, whilst the rest of Europe was ignorant of this + contagion. Extremely severe rules had been laid down with regard to the + measures to be taken for avoiding the spread of this disease. A + consumptive patient was considered as a kind of plague-stricken + individual. Chateaubriand had experienced the inconveniences of this scare + during his stay in Rome with Madame de Beaumont, who died there of + consumption, at the beginning of the winter of 1803. George Sand, in her + turn, was to have a similar experience. When Chopin was convicted of + consumption, "which," as she writes, "was equivalent to the plague, + according to the Spanish doctors, with their foregone conclusions about + contagion," their landlord simply turned them out of his house. They took + refuge in the Chartreuse monastery of Valdemosa, where they lived in a + cell. The site was very beautiful. By a wooded slope a terrace could be + reached, from which there was a view of the sea on two sides. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (27) L. Landouzy of the Academy of Medecine, <i>La Lutte + contre la tuberculose</i>, published by L. Maretheux. +</pre> + <p> + "We are planted between heaven and earth," wrote George Sand. "The clouds + cross our garden at their own will and pleasure, and the eagles clamour + over our heads." + </p> + <p> + A cell in this monastery was composed of three rooms: the one in the + middle was intended for reading, prayer and meditation, the other two were + the bedroom and the workshop. All three rooms looked on to a garden. + Reading, rest and manual labour made up the life of these men. They lived + in a limited space certainly, but the view stretched out infinitely, and + prayer went up direct to God. Among the ruined buildings of the enormous + monastery there was a cloister still standing, through which the wind + howled desperately. It was like the scenery in the nuns' act in <i>Robert + le Diable</i>. All this made the old monastery the most romantic place in + the world.(28) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (28) George Sand to Madame Buloz. Postscript to the letter + already quoted: + + "I am leaving for the country where I have a furnished house + with a garden, magnificently situated for 50 francs a month. + I have also taken a cell, that is three rooms and a garden + for 35 francs a year in the Chartreuse of Valdemosa, a + magnificent, immense monastery quite lonely in the midst of + mountains. Our garden is full of oranges and lemons. The + trees break under them. We have hedges of cactus twenty to + thirty feet high, the sea is about a mile and a half away. + We have a donkey to take us to the town, roads inaccessible + to visitors, immense cloisters and the most beautiful + architecture, a charming church, a cemetery with a palm-tree + and a stone cross like the one in the third act of <i>Robert + le Diable</i>. Then, too, there are beds of shrubs cut in + form. All this we have to ourselves with an old woman to + wait on us, and the sacristan who is warder, steward, + majordomo and Jack-of-all-trades. I hope we shall have + ghosts. The door of my cell leads into an enormous + cloister, and when the wind slams the door it is like a + cannon going off through all the monastery. I am delighted + with everything, and fancy I shall be more often in the cell + than in the country-house, which is about six miles away. + You see that I have plenty of poetry and solitude, so that + if I do not work I shall be a stupid thing." +</pre> + <p> + The only drawback was that it was most difficult to live there. There was + no way of getting warm. The stove was a kind of iron furnace which gave + out a terrible odour, and did not prevent the rooms from being so damp + that clothes mildewed while they were being worn. There was no way of + getting proper food either. They had to eat the most indigestible things. + There were five sorts of meat certainly, but these were pig, pork, bacon, + ham and pickled pork. This was all cooked in dripping, pork-dripping, of + course, or in rancid oil. Still more than this, the natives refused, not + only to serve the unfortunate travellers, but to sell them the actual + necessaries of life. The fact was, they had scandalized the Majorcan + people. All Majorca was indignant because Solange, who at that time was + nine years old, roamed about the mountains <i>disguised as a man</i>. + Added to this, when the horn sounded which called people to their + devotions in the churches, these strange inhabitants of the old Valdemosa + monastery never took any more notice than pagans. People kept clear of + them. Chopin suffered with the cold, the cooking made him sick, and he + used to have fits of terror in the cloisters. They had to leave hastily. + The only steamboat from the island was used to transport the pigs which + are the pride and wealth of Majorca. People were only taken as an extra. + It was, therefore, in the company of these squealing, ill-smelling + creatures that the invalid crossed the water. When he arrived at + Barcelona, he looked like a spectre and was spitting blood. George Sand + was quite right in saying that this journey was an "awful fiasco." + </p> + <p> + Art and literature did not gain much either by this expedition. George + Sand finished her novel entitled <i>Spiridion</i> at Valdemosa. She had + commenced it before starting for Spain. In a volume on <i>Un hiver a + Majorque</i> she gave some fine descriptions, and also a harsh accusation + of the monks, whom she held responsible for all the mishaps of the Sand + caravan. She considered that the Majorcans had been brutalized and + fanaticized, thanks to their influence. As to Chopin, he was scarcely in a + state to derive any benefit from such a journey, and he certainly did not + get any. He did not thoroughly appreciate the beauties of nature, + particularly of Majorcan nature. In a letter to one of his friends he + gives the following description of their habitation:— + </p> + <p> + "Between rocks and sea, in a great deserted monastery, in a cell, the + doors of which are bigger than the carriage entrances to the houses in + Paris, you can imagine me, without white gloves, and no curl in my hair, + as pale as usual. My cell is the shape of a large-sized bier. . . ." + </p> + <p> + This certainly does not sound very enthusiastic. The question is whether + he composed anything at all at Valdemosa. Liszt presents him to us + improvising his Prelude in B flat minor under the most dramatic + circumstances. We are told that one day, when George Sand and her children + had started on an excursion, they were surprised by a thunderstorm. Chopin + had stayed at home in the monastery, and, terrified at the danger he + foresaw for them, he fainted. Before they reached home he had improvised + his <i>Prelude</i>, in which he has put all his terror and the nervousness + due to his disease. It appears, though, that all this is a legend, and + that there is not a single echo of the stay at Valdemosa in Chopin's work. + </p> + <p> + The deplorable journey to Majorca dates from November, 1838 to March, + 1839. The intimacy between George Sand and Chopin continued eight years + more. + </p> + <p> + In the summer Chopin stayed it Nohant. Eugene Delacroix, who was paying a + visit there too, describes his presence as follows: "At times, through the + window opening on to the garden, we get wafts of Chopin's music, as he too + is at work. It is mingled with the songs of the nightingales and with the + perfume of the rose trees." + </p> + <p> + Chopin did not care much for Nohant. In the first place, he only liked the + country for about a fortnight at a time, which is very much like not + caring for it at all. Then what made him detest the country were the + inhabitants. Hippolyte Chatiron was terrible after he had been drinking. + He was extremely effusive and cordial. + </p> + <p> + In the winter they first lived in the Rue Pigalle. George Sand used to + receive Pierre Leroux, Louis Blanc, Edgar Quinet, Etienne Arago, and many + other men. Chopin, who was not very intellectual, felt ill at ease amongst + all these literary men, these reformers, arguers and speechifiers. In + 1842, they emigrated to the Square d'Orleans. There was a sort of little + colony established there, consisting of Alexandre Dumas, Dantan the + caricaturist, the Viardots, Zimmermann, and the wife of the Spanish + consul, Madame Marliani, who had attracted them all there. They took their + meals together. It was a regular phalinstery, and Chopin had very elegant + tastes! + </p> + <p> + We must give George Sand credit for looking after him with admirable + devotion. She certainly went on nursing her "invalid," or her "dear + skeleton," as she called him, but her infatuation had been over for a long + time. The absolute contrast of two natures may be attractive at first, but + the attraction does not last, and, when the first enthusiasm is over, the + logical consequence is that they become disunited. This was what Liszt + said in rather an odd but energetic way. He points out all that there was + "intolerably incompatible, diametrically opposite and secretly + antipathetic between two natures which seemed to have been mutually drawn + to each other by a sudden and superficial attraction, for the sake of + repulsing each other later on with all the force of inexpressible sorrow + and boredom." Illness had embittered Chopin's character. George Sand used + to say that "when he was angry he was terrifying." He was very + intelligent, too, and delighted in quizzing people for whom he did not + care. Solange and Maurice were now older, and this made the situation + somewhat delicate. Chopin, too, had a mania for meddling with family + matters. He quarrelled one day with Maurice. Another day George Sand was + annoyed with her son-in-law Clesinger and with her daughter Solange, and + Chopin took their side. This was the cause of their quarrel; it was the + last drop that made the cup of bitterness overflow. + </p> + <p> + The following is a fragment of a letter which George Sand sent to + Grzymala, in 1847: "For seven years I have lived with him as a virgin. If + any woman on earth could inspire him with absolute confidence, I am + certainly that woman, but he has never understood. I know, too, that many + people accuse me of having worn him out with my violent sensuality, and + others accuse me of having driven him to despair by my freaks. I believe + you know how much truth there is in all this. He himself complains to me + that I am killing him by the privations I insist upon, and I feel certain + that I should kill him by acting otherwise."(29) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (29) Communicated by M. Rocheblave. +</pre> + <p> + It has been said that when Chopin was at Nohant he had a village girl + there as his mistress. We do not care to discuss the truth of this + statement. + </p> + <p> + It is interesting to endeavour to characterize the nature of this episode + in George Sand's sentimental life. She helps us herself in this. As a + romantic writer she neglected nothing which she could turn into + literature. She therefore made an analysis of her own case, worked out + with the utmost care, and published it in one of her books which is little + read now. The year of the rupture was 1847, and before the rupture had + really occurred, George Sand brought out a novel entitled <i>Lucrezia + Floriani</i>. In this book she traces the portrait of Chopin as Prince + Karol. She denied, of course, that it was a portrait, but contemporaries + were not to be deceived, and Liszt gives several passages from <i>Lucrezia + Floriani</i> in his biography of the musician. The decisive proof was that + Chopin recognized himself, and that he was greatly annoyed. + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact, there was nothing disagreeable about this portrait. + The following fragments are taken from it: "Gentle, sensitive, exquisite + in all things, at the age of fifteen he had all the charms of youth, + together with the gravity of a riper age. He remained delicate in body ind + mind. The lack of muscular development caused him to preserve his + fascinating beauty. . . . He was something like one of those ideal + creatures which mediaeval poetry used for the ornamentation of Christian + temples. Nothing could have been purer and at the same time more + enthusiastic than his ideas. . . . He was always lost in his dreams, and + had no sense of reality. . . ." His exquisite politeness was then + described, and the ultra acuteness and nervosity which resulted in that + power of divination which he possessed. For a portrait to be living, it + must have some faults as well as qualities. His delineator does not forget + to mention the attitude of mystery in which the Prince took refuge + whenever his feelings were hurt. She speaks also of his intense + susceptibility. "His wit was very brilliant," she says; "it consisted of a + kind of subtle mocking shrewdness, not really playful, but a sort of + delicate, bantering gaiety." It may have been to the glory of Prince Karol + to resemble Chopin, but it was also quite creditable to Chopin to have + been the model from which this distinguished neurasthenic individual was + taken. + </p> + <p> + Prince Karol meets a certain Lucrezia Floriani, a rich actress and + courtesan. She is six years older than he is, somewhat past her prime, and + now leading a quiet life. She has done with love and love affairs, or, at + least, she thinks so. "The fifteen years of passion and torture, which she + had gone through, seemed to her now so cruel that she was hoping to have + them counted double by the supreme Dispenser of our trials." It was, of + course, natural that she should acknowledge God's share in the matter. We + are told that "implacable destiny was not satisfied," so that when Karol + makes his first declaration, Lucrezia yields to him, but at the same time + she puts a suitable colouring on her fall. There are many ways of loving, + and it is surely noble and disinterested in a woman to love a man as his + mother. "I shall love him," she says, kissing the young Prince's pale face + ardently, "but it will be as his mother loved him, just as fervently and + just as faithfully. This maternal affection, etc. . . ." Lucrezia Floriani + had a way of introducing the maternal instinct everywhere. She undertook + to encircle her children and Prince Karol with the same affection, and her + notions of therapeutics were certainly somewhat strange and venturesome, + for she fetched her children to the Prince's bedside. "Karol breathed more + freely," we are told, "when the children were there. Their pure breath + mingling with their mother's made the air milder and more gentle for his + feverish lungs." This we shall not attempt to dispute. It is the study of + the situation, though, that forms the subject of <i>Lucrezia Floriani</i>. + George Sand gives evidence of wonderful clear-sightedness and penetration + in the art of knowing herself. + </p> + <p> + She gives us warning that it is "a sad story and sorrowful truth" that she + is telling us. She has herself the better <i>role</i> of the two + naturally. It could not have been on that, account that Chopin' was + annoyed. He was a Pole, and therefore doubly chivalrous, so that such an + objection would have been unworthy of a lover. What concerns us is that + George Sand gives, with great nicety, the exact causes of the rupture. In + the first place, Karol was jealous of Lucrezia's stormy past; then his + refined nature shrank from certain of her comrades of a rougher kind. The + invalid was irritated by her robust health, and by the presence and, we + might almost say, the rivalry of the children. Prince Karol finds them + nearly always in his way, and he finally takes a dislike to them. There + comes a moment when Lucrezia sees herself obliged to choose between the + two kinds of maternity, the natural kind and the maternity according to + the convention of lovers. + </p> + <p> + The special kind of sentiment, then, between George Sand and Chopin, Just + as between Lucrezia and Prince Karol, was just this: love with maternal + affection. This is extremely difficult to define, as indeed is everything + which is extremely complex. George Sand declares that her reason for not + refusing intimacy with Chopin was that she considered this in the light of + a duty and as a safeguard. "One duty more," she writes, "in a life already + so full, a life in which I was overwhelmed with fatigue, seemed to me one + chance more of arriving at that austerity towards which I felt myself + being drawn with a kind of religious enthusiasm."(30) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (30) <i>Histoire de via vie.</i> +</pre> + <p> + We can only imagine that she was deceiving herself. To accept a lover for + the sake of giving up lovers altogether seems a somewhat heroic means to + an end, but also somewhat deceptive. It is certainly true that there was + something more in this love than the attraction she felt for Musset and + for Michel. In the various forms and degrees of our feelings, there is + nothing gained by attempting to establish decided divisions and absolute + demarcations for the sake of classifying them all. Among sentiments which + are akin, but which our language distinguishes when defining them, there + may be some mixture or some confusion with regard to their origin. Alfred + de Vigny gives us in <i>Samson</i>, as the origin of love, even in man, + the remembrance of his mother's caresses: + </p> + <p> + <i>Il revera toujours a la chaleur du sein.</i> + </p> + <p> + It seems, therefore, that we cannot apply the same reasoning, with regard + to love, when referring to the love of a man or of a woman. With the man + there is more pride of possession, and with the woman there is more + tenderness, more pity, more charity. All this leads us to the conclusion + that maternal affection in love is not an unnatural sentiment, as has so + often been said, or rather a perversion of sentiment. It is rather a + sentiment in which too much instinct and heredity are mingled in a + confused way. The object of the education of feeling is to arrive at + discerning and eliminating the elements which interfere with the integrity + of it. Rousseau called Madame de Warens his mother, but he was a man who + was lacking in good taste. George Sand frequently puts into her novels + this conception of love which we see her put into practice in life. It is + impossible when analyzing it closely not to find something confused and + disturbing in it which somewhat offends us. + </p> + <p> + It now remains for us to study what influence George Sand's friendship + with some of the greatest artists of her times had on her works. Beside + Liszt and Chopin, she knew Delacroix, Madame Dorval, Pauline Viardot, + Nourrit and Lablache. Through them she went into artistic circles. Some of + her novels are stories of the life of artists. <i>Les Maitres Mosaistes</i> + treats of the rivalry between two studios. <i>La derniere Aldini</i> is + the story of a handsome gondolier who, as a tenor, turned the heads of + patrician women. The first part of <i>Consuelo</i> takes us back to the + singing schools and theatres of Venice in the eighteenth century, and + introduces us to individuals taken from life and cleverly drawn. We have + Comte Zustiniani, the dilettante, a wealthy patron of the fine arts; + Porpora, the old master, who looks upon his art as something sacred; + Corilla, the prima donna, annoyed at seeing a new star appear; Anzoleto, + the tenor, who is jealous because he gets less applause than his friend; + and above and beyond all the others Consuelo, good kind Consuelo, the + sympathetic singer. + </p> + <p> + The theatres of Venice seem to be very much like those of Paris and of + other places. We have the following sketch of the vanity of the comedian. + "Can a man be jealous of a woman's advantages? Can a lover dislike his + sweetheart to have success? A man can certainly be jealous of a woman's + advantages when that man is a vain artist, and a lover may hate his + sweetheart to have any success if they both belong to the theatre. A + comedian is not a man, Consuelo, but a woman. He lives on his sickly + vanity; he only thinks of satisfying that vanity, and he works for the + sake of intoxicating himself with vanity. A woman's beauty is apt to take + attention from him and a woman's talent may cause his talent to be thrown + in the background. A woman is his rival, or rather he is the rival of a + woman. He has all the little meannesses, the caprices, the exigences and + the weak points of a coquette." Such is the note of this picture of things + and people in the theatrical world. How can we doubt its veracity! + </p> + <p> + At any rate, the general idea that George Sand had of the artist was + exactly the idea adopted by romanticism. We all know what a being set + apart and free from all social and moral laws, what a "monster" + romanticism made of the artist. It is one of its dogmas that the + necessities of art are incompatible with the conditions of a regular life. + An artist, for instance, cannot be <i>bourgeois</i>, as he is the exact + opposite. We have Kean's speech in Dumas' drama, entitled <i>Kean, or + Disorder and Genius.</i> + </p> + <p> + "An actor," he says, "must know all the passions, so that he may express + them as he should. I study them in myself." And then he adds: "That is + what you call, orderly! And what is to become of genius while I am being + orderly?" + </p> + <p> + All this is absurd. The artist is not the man who has felt the most, but + the man best gifted for imagining the various states of mind and feeling + and for expressing them. We know, too, that an irregular life is neither + the origin nor the stamp of extraordinary intellectual worth. All the + cripples of Bohemian life prove to us that genius is not the outcome of + that kind of life, but that, on the contrary, such life is apt to paralyze + talent. It is very convenient, though, for the artist and for every other + variety of "superior beings" to make themselves believe that ordinary + morals are not for them. The best argument we can have against this theory + is the case of George Sand. The artist, in her case, was eminently a very + regular and hard-working <i>bourgeois</i> woman. + </p> + <p> + The art in which George Sand gave evidence of the surest taste was music. + That is worthy of notice. In one of her <i>Lettres d'un voyageur</i>, she + celebrates Liszt attacking the <i>Dies irae</i> on the Fribourg organ. She + devotes another letter to the praise of Meyer-beer. She has analyzed the + different forms of musical emotion in several of her books. One of the + ideas dear to romanticism was that of the union and fusion of all the + arts. The writer can, and in a certain way he ought, to produce with words + the same effects that the painter does with colours and the sculptor with + lines. We all know how much literature romantic painters and sculptors + have put into their art. The romantic writers were less inclined to accord + the same welcome to music as to the plastic arts. Theophile Gautier is + said to have exclaimed that music was "the most disagreeable and the + dearest of all the arts." Neither Lamartine, Hugo, nor any other of the + great writers of that period was influenced by music. Musset was the first + one to be impassioned by it, and this may have been as much through his + dandyism as from conviction. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>Fille de la douleur, Harmonie, Harmonie, + Langue que fiour l'amour invents le ginie, + Qui nous viens d'Italie, et qui lui vins des cieux, + Douce langue du coeur, la seule ou la pensee, + Cette vierge craintive et d'une ombre ofensie, + Passe en gardant son voile et sans craindre les eux, + Qui sait ce qu'un enfant peut entendre et peut dire + Dans tes soupirs divins nes de l'air qu'il respire, + Tristes comme son coeur et doux comme sa voix?</i> +</pre> + <p> + George Sand, who agreed with Musset, claimed for "the most beautiful of + all the arts," the honour of being able to paint "all the shades of + sentiment and all the phases of passion." "Music," she says, "can express + everything. For describing scenes of nature it has ideal colours and + lines, neither exact nor yet too minute, but which are all the more + vaguely and delightfully poetical."(31) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (31) Eleventh <i>Lettre d'un voyageur</i>: To Giacomo Meyerbeer. +</pre> + <p> + As examples of music in literature we have George Sand's phrase, more + lyrical and musical than picturesque. We have, too, the gentle, soothing + strophes of Sully Prudhomme and the vague melody of the Verlaine songs: "<i>De + la musique avant toute chose</i>." It would be absurd to exaggerate the + influence exercised by George Sand, and to attribute to her an importance + which does not belong to her, over poetical evolution. It is only fair to + say, though, that music, which was looked upon suspiciously for so long a + time by classical writers of sane and sure taste, has completely invaded + our present society, so that we are becoming more and more imbued with it. + George Sand's predilection for modern art is another feature which makes + her one of us, showing that her tendencies were very marked for things of + the present day. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII + </h2> + <h3> + THE HUMANITARIAN DREAM + </h3> + <p> + PIERRE LEROUX—SOCIALISTIC NOVELS + </p> + <p> + Hitherto we have seen George Sand put into her work her sufferings, her + protests as a woman, and her dreams as an artist. But the + nineteenth-century writer did not confine his ambitions to this modest + task. He belonged to a corporation which counted among its members + Voltaire and Rousseau. The eighteenth-century philosophers had changed the + object of literature. Instead of an instrument of analysis, they had made + of it a weapon for combat, an incomparable weapon for attacking + institutions and for overthrowing governments. The fact is, that from the + time of the Restoration we shall scarcely meet with a single writer, from + the philosopher to the vaudevillist, and from the professor to the + song-maker, who did not wish to act as a torch on the path of humanity. + Poets make revolutions, and show Plato how wrong he was in driving them + away from his Republic. Sophocles was appointed a general at Athens for + having written a good tragedy, and so novelists, dramatists, critics and + makers of puns devoted themselves to making laws. George Sand was too much + a woman of her times to keep aloof from such a movement. We shall now have + to study her in her socialistic <i>role</i>. + </p> + <p> + We can easily imagine on what side her sympathies were. She had always + been battling with institutions, and it seemed to her that institutions + were undoubtedly in the wrong. She had proved that there was a great deal + of suffering in the world, and as human nature is good at bottom, she + decided that society was all wrong. She was a novelist, and she therefore + considered that the most satisfactory solutions are those in which + imagination and feeling play a great part. She also considered that the + best politics are those which are the most like a novel. We must now + follow her, step by step, along the various roads leading to Utopia. The + truth is, that in that great manufactory of systems and that storehouse of + panaceas which the France of Louis-Philippe had become, the only + difficulty was to choose between them all. + </p> + <p> + The first, in date, of the new gospels was that of the Saint-Simonians. + When George Sand arrived in Paris, Saint-Simonism was one of the + curiosities offered to astonished provincials. It was a parody of + religion, but it was organized in a church with a Father in two persons, + Bazard and Enfantin. The service took place in a <i>bouis-bouis</i>. The + costume worn consisted of white trousers, a red waistcoat and a blue + tunic. On the days when the Father came down from the heights of + Menilmontant with his children, there was great diversion for the people + in the street. An important thing was lacking in the organization of the + Saint-Simonians. In order to complete the "sacerdotal couple," a woman was + needed to take her place next the Father. A Mother was asked for over and + over again. It was said that she would soon appear, but she was never + forthcoming. Saint-Simon had tried to tempt Madame de Stael. + </p> + <p> + "I am an extraordinary man," he said to her, "and you are just as + extraordinary as a woman. You and I together would have a still more + extraordinary child." Madame de Stael evidently did not care to take part + in the manufacture of this prodigy. When George Sand's first novels + appeared, the Saint-Simonians were full of hope. This was the woman they + had been waiting for, the free woman, who having meditated on the lot of + her sisters would formulate the Declaration of the rights and duties of + woman. Adolphe Gueroult was sent to her. He was the editor of the <i>Opinion + nationale</i>. George Sand had a great fund of common sense, though, and + once more the little society awaited the Mother in vain. It was finally + decided that she should be sought for in the East. A mission was + organized, and messengers were arrayed in white, as a sign of the vow of + chastity, with a pilgrim's staff in their hand. They begged as they went + along, and slept sometimes outdoors, but more often at the police-station. + George Sand was not tempted by this kind of maternity, but she kept in + touch with the Saint-Simonians. She was present at one of their meetings + at Menilmontant. Her published <i>Correspondance</i> contains a letter + addressed by her to the Saint-Simonian family in Paris. As a matter of + fact, she had received from it, on the 1st of January, 1836, a large + collection of presents. There were in all no less than fifty-nine + articles, among which were the following: a dress-box, a pair of boots, a + thermometer, a carbine-carrier, a pair of trousers and a corset. + </p> + <p> + Saint-Simonism was universally jeered at, but it is quite a mistake to + think that ridicule is detrimental in France. On the contrary, it is an + excellent means of getting anything known and of spreading the knowledge + of it abroad; it is in reality a force. Saint-Simonism is at the root of + many of the humanitarian doctrines which were to spring up from its ashes. + One of its essential doctrines was the diffusion of the soul throughout + all humanity, and another that of being born anew. Enfantin said: "I can + feel St. Paul within me. He lives within me." Still another of its + doctrines was that of the rehabilitation of the flesh. Saint-Simonism + proclaimed the equality of man and woman, that of industry and art and + science, and the necessity of a fresh repartition of wealth and of a + modification of the laws concerning property. It also advocated increasing + the attributions of the State considerably. It was, in fact, the first of + the doctrines offering to the lower classes, by way of helping them to + bear their wretched misery, the ideal of happiness here below, lending a + false semblance of religion to the desire for material well-being. George + Sand had one vulnerable point, and that was her generosity. By making her + believe that she was working for the outcasts of humanity, she could be + led anywhere, and this was what happened. + </p> + <p> + Among other great minds affected by the influence of Saint-Simonism, it is + scarcely surprising to find Lamennais. When George Sand first knew him, he + was fifty-three years of age. He had broken with Rome, and was the + apocalyptic author of <i>Paroles d'un croyant</i>. He put into his + revolutionary faith all the fervour of his loving soul, a soul that had + been created for apostleship, and to which the qualification of "a + disaffected cathedral" certainly applied. + </p> + <p> + After the famous trial, Liszt took him to call on George Sand in her + attic. This was in 1835. She gives us the following portrait of him: + "Monsieur de Lamennais is short, thin, and looks ill. He seems to have + only the feeblest breath of life in his body, but how his face beams. His + nose is too prominent for his small figure and for his narrow face. If it + were not for this nose out of all proportion, he would be handsome. He was + very easily entertained. A mere nothing made him laugh, and how heartily + he laughed."(32) It was the gaiety of the seminarist, for Monsieur Feli + always remained the <i>Abbe</i> de Lamennais. George Sand had a passionate + admiration for him. She took his side against any one who attacked him in + her third <i>Lettre d'un voyageur</i>, in her <i>Lettre a Lerminier</i>, + and in her article on <i>Amshaspands et Darvands</i>. This is the title of + a book by Lamennais. The extraordinary names refer to the spirits of good + and evil in the mythology of Zoroaster. George Sand proposed to pronounce + them <i>Chenapans et Pedants</i>. Although she had a horror of journalism, + she agreed to write in Lamennais' paper, <i>Le Monde.</i> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (32) <i>Histoire de ma vie.</i> +</pre> + <p> + "He is so good and I like him so much," she writes, "that I would give him + as much of my blood and of my ink as he wants."(33) She did not have to + give him any of her blood, and he did not accept much of her ink. She + commenced publishing her celebrated <i>Lettres a Marcie</i> in <i>Le Monde</i>. + We have already spoken of these letters, in order to show how George Sand + gradually attenuated the harshness of her early feminism. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (33) <i>Correspondance</i>: To Jules Janin, February 15, 1837. +</pre> + <p> + These letters alarmed Lamennais, nevertheless, and she was obliged to + discontinue them. Feminism was the germ of their disagreement. Lamennais + said: "She does not forgive St. Paul for having said: 'Wives, obey your + husbands.'" She continued to acknowledge him as "one of our saints," but + "the father of our new Church" gradually broke away from her and her + friends, and expressed his opinion about her with a severity and harshness + which are worthy of note. + </p> + <p> + Lamennais' letters to Baron de Vitrolles contain many allusions to George + Sand, and they are most uncomplimentary. + </p> + <p> + "I hear no more about Carlotta" (Madame Marliani), he writes, "nor about + George Sand and Madame d'Agoult. I know there has been a great deal of + quarrelling among them. They are as fond of each other as Lesage's two <i>diables</i>, + one of whom said: 'That reconciled us, we kissed each other, and ever + since then we have been mortal enemies.'" He also tells that there is a + report that in her novel, entitled <i>Horace</i>, she has given as + unflattering a portrait as possible of her dear, sweet, excellent friend, + Madame d'Agoult, the <i>Arabella</i> of the <i>Lettres d'un voyageur</i>. + "The portraits continue," he writes, "all true to life, without being like + each other." In the same book, <i>Horace</i>, there is a portrait of + Mallefille, who was beloved "during one quarter of the moon," and abhorred + afterwards. He concludes the letter with the following words: "Ah, how + fortunate I am to be forgotten by those people! I am not afraid of their + indifference, but I should be afraid of their attentions. . . . Say what + you like, my dear friend, those people do not tempt me at all. Futility + and spitefulness dissolved in a great deal of <i>ennui</i>, is a bad kind + of medicine." He then goes on to make fun, in terms that it is difficult + to quote, of the silly enthusiasm of a woman like Marliani, and even of + George Sand, for the theories of Pierre Leroux, of which they did not + understand the first letter, but which had taken their fancy. George Sand + may have looked upon Lamennais as a master, but it is very evident that + she was not his favoured disciple. + </p> + <p> + It was due to his teaching that George Sand obtained her definite ideas + about Catholicism, or rather against it. She was decidedly its adversary, + because she held that the Church had stifled the spirit of liberty, that + it had thrown a veil over the words of Christ, and that it was the + obstacle in the way of holy equality. What she owed specially, though, to + Lamennais was another lesson, of quite another character. Lamennais was + the man of the nineteenth century who waged the finest battle against + individualism, against "the scandal of the adoration of man by man."(34) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (34) Compare Brunetiere, <i>Evolution de la poesie lyrique</i>, + vol. i. p. 310. +</pre> + <p> + Under his influence, George Sand began to attach less importance to the + personal point of view, she ceased applying everything to herself, and she + discovered the importance of the life of others. If we study this + attentively, we shall see that a new phase now commenced in the history of + her ideas. Lamennais was the origin of this transformation, although it is + personified in another man, and that other man, was named Pierre Leroux. + </p> + <p> + What a strange mystery it is, among so many other mysteries, that of one + mind taking possession of another mind. We have come into contact with + great minds which have made no impression on us, whilst other minds, of + secondary intelligence, perhaps, and it may be inferior to our own, have + governed us. + </p> + <p> + By the side of a Lamennais, this Pierre Leroux was a very puny personage. + He had been a compositor in a printing works, before founding the <i>Globe</i>. + This paper, in his hands, was to become an organ of Saint-Simonism. He + belonged neither to the <i>bourgeois</i> nor to the working-class. He was + Clumsy, not well built, and had an enormous shock of hair, which was the + joy of caricaturists. He was shy and awkward, in addition to all this. He + nevertheless appeared in various <i>salons</i>, and was naturally more or + less ridiculous. In January, 1840, Beranger writes: "You must know that + our metaphysician has surrounded himself with women, at the head of whom + are George Sand and Marliani, and that, in gilded drawing-rooms, under the + light of chandeliers, he exposes his religious principles and his muddy + boots." George Sand herself made fun of this occasionally. In a letter to + Madame d'Agoult, she writes: + </p> + <p> + "He is very amusing when he describes making his appearance in your + drawing-room of the Rue Laffitte. He says: 'I was all muddy, and quite + ashamed of myself. I was keeping out of sight as much as possible in a + corner. <i>This lady</i> came to me and talked in the kindest way + possible. She is very beautiful.'"(35) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (35) <i>Correspondance</i>: To Madame d'Agoult, October 16, 1837. +</pre> + <p> + There are two features about him, then, which seem to strike every one, + his unkemptness and his shyness. He expressed his ideas, which were + already obscure, in a form which seemed to make them even more obscure. It + has been said wittily that when digging out his ideas, he buried himself + in them.(36) Later on, when he spoke at public meetings, he was noted for + the nonsense he talked in his interminable and unintelligible harangues. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (36) P. Thureau-Dangin, <i>Histoire de la Monarchie de Juillet.</i> +</pre> + <p> + And yet, in spite of all this, the smoke from this mind attracted George + Sand, and became her pillar of light moving on before her. His hazy + philosophy seemed to her as clear as daylight, it appealed to her heart + and to her mind, solved her doubts, and gave her tranquillity, strength, + faith, hope and a patient and persevering love of humanity. It seems as + though, with that marvellous faculty that she had for idealizing always, + she manufactured a Pierre Leroux of her own, who was finer than the real + one. He was needy, but poverty becomes the man who has ideas. He was + awkward, but the contemplative man, on coming down from the region of + thought on to our earth once more, only gropes along. He was not clear, + but Voltaire tells us that when a man does not understand his own words, + he is talking metaphysics. Chopin had personified the artist for her; + Pierre Leroux, with his words as entangled as his hair, figured now to her + as the philosopher. She saw in him the chief and the master. <i>Tu duca e + tu maestro</i>. + </p> + <p> + In February, 1844, she wrote the following extraordinary lines: "I must + tell you that George Sand is only a pale reflection of Pierre Leroux, a + fanatical disciple of the same ideal, but a disciple mute and fascinated + when listening to his words, and quite prepared to throw all her own works + into the fire, in order to write, talk, think, pray and act under his + inspiration. I am merely the popularizer, with a ready pen and an + impressionable mind, and I try to translate, in my novels, the philosophy + of the master." + </p> + <p> + The most extraordinary part about these lines is that they were absolutely + true. The whole secret of the productions of George Sand for the next ten + years is contained in these words. With Pierre Leroux and Louis Viardot + she now founded a review, <i>La Revue independante</i>, in which she could + publish, not only novels (beginning with <i>Horace</i>, which Buloz had + refused), but articles by which philosophical-socialistic ideas could have + a free course. Better still than this, the novelist could take the + watchword from the sociologist, just as Mascarilla put Roman history into + madrigals, she was able to put Pierre Leroux's philosophy into novels. + </p> + <p> + It would be interesting to know what she saw in Pierre Leroux, and which + of his ideas she approved and preferred. One of the ideas dear to Pierre + Leroux was that of immortality, but an immortality which had very little + in common with Christianity. According to it, we should live again after + death, but in humanity and in another world. The idea of metempsychosis + was very much in vogue at this epoch. According to Jean Reynaud and + Lamennais, souls travelled from star to star, but Pierre Leroux believed + in metempsychosis on earth. + </p> + <p> + "We are not only the children and the posterity of those who have already + lived, but we are, at bottom, the anterior generations themselves. We have + gone through former existences which we do not remember, but it may be + that at times we have fragmentary reminiscences of them." + </p> + <p> + George Sand must have been very deeply impressed by this idea. It inspired + her with <i>Sept cordes de la lyre</i>, <i>Spiridion</i>, <i>Consuelo</i> + and the <i>Comtesse de Rudolstadt</i>, the whole cycle of her + philosophical novels. + </p> + <p> + The <i>Sept cordes de la lyre</i> is a dramatic poem after the manner of + <i>Faust</i>. Maitre Albertus is the old doctor conversing with + Mephistocles. He has a ward, named Helene, and a lyre. A spirit lives in + this lyre. It is all in vain that the painter, the <i>maestro</i>, the + poet, the critic endeavour to make the cords vibrate. The lyre remains + dumb. Helene, even without putting her hands on it, can draw from it + magnificent harmony; Helene is mad. All this may seem very + incomprehensible to you, and I must confess that it is so to me. Albertus + himself declares: "This has a poetical sense of a very high order perhaps, + but it seems vague to me." Personally, I am of the same opinion as + Albertus. With a little effort, I might, like any one else, be able to + give you an interpretation of this logogriph, which might appear to have + something in it. I prefer telling you frankly that I do not understand it. + The author, perhaps, did not understand it much better so that it may have + been metaphysics. + </p> + <p> + I would call your attention, though, to that picture of Helene, with the + magic lyre in her hand, risking her life, by climbing to the spire of the + steeple and uttering her inspiring speech from there. Is not this + something like Solness, the builder, from the top of his tower? Like + Tolstoi, Ibsen had evidently read George Sand and had not forgotten her. + </p> + <p> + <i>Spiridion</i> introduces us into a strange convent, in which we see the + portraits come out of their frames and roam about the cloisters. The + founder of the convent, Hebronius, lives again in the person of Father + Alexis, who is no other than Leroux. + </p> + <p> + In <i>Consuelo</i> we have the same imagination. We have already + considered the first part of this novel, that which takes place at Venice, + in the schools of music and in the theatres of song. Who would have + thought that the charming diva, the pupil of Porpora, was to have such + strange adventures? She arrives in Bohemia, at the Chateau of Rudolstadt. + She has been warned that extraordinary things take place there. Comte + Albert de Rudolstadt is subject to nervous fits and to great lethargy. He + disappears from the chateau and then reappears, without any one seeing him + go in or out. He believes that he has been Jean Ziska, and this is + probably true. He has been present at events which took place three + hundred years previously, and he describes them. Consuelo discovers + Albert's retreat. It is a cavern hollowed out of a mountain in the + vicinity, which communicates, by means of a well, with his rooms. The + Chateau of Rudolstadt is built on the same architectural plan as Anne + Radcliffe's chateau. After staying for some time in this bewildering + place, Consuelo sets forth once more. She now meets Haydn, goes through + the Bohmer Wald with him, arrives in Venice, is introduced to Maria + Theresa, and is engaged at the Imperial Theatre. She is now recalled to + the Chateau of Rudolstadt. Albert is on his deathbed, and he marries her + <i>in extremis</i>, after telling her that he is going to leave her for a + time, but that he shall return to her on earth by a new birth. He, too, + had evidently read Pierre Leroux, and it was perhaps that which had caused + his illness. + </p> + <p> + <i>Consuelo</i> is a novel of adventures after the style of <i>Gil Blas</i>, + the <i>Vie de Marianne</i>, and <i>Wilkelm Meister</i>. It is a historical + novel, for which we have Joseph Haydn, Maria Theresa, Baron Trenk, and the + whole history of the Hussites. It is a fantastical story with digressions + on music and on popular songs, but running through it all, with the + persistency of a fixed idea, are divagations on the subject of earthly + metempsychosis. Such, then, is this incongruous story, odd and + exaggerated, but with gleams of light and of great beauty, the reading of + which is apt to leave one weary and disturbed. + </p> + <p> + We meet with Consuelo again in another book. In those days, it was not + enough for a novel to consist of several volumes. People liked a sequel + also. <i>Vingt ans apres</i> was the sequel to <i>Trois Mousquetaires</i>, + and the <i>Vicomte de Bragelonne</i> was a sequel to that sequel. Our + grandparents were capable of allowing themselves to be bored to a degree + which makes us ashamed of our frivolity. The <i>Comtesse de Rudolstadt</i> + was the sequel to <i>Consuelo</i>. As time went on, Pierre Leroux called + George Sand's attention to the study of freemasonry. In 1843, she declared + that she was plunged in it, and that it was a gulf of nonsense and + uncertainties, in which "she was dabbling courageously." + </p> + <p> + "I am up to my ears in freemasonry," she writes. "I cannot get away from + the kaddosh, the Rose Croix and the Sublime Scotchman. The result of all + this will be a mysterious novel." The mysterious novel was the <i>Comtesse + de Rudolstadt</i>. Consuelo, who through her marriage with Albert is now + Comtesse de Rudolstadt, continues her European tour. She reaches Berlin, + and we find her at the Court of Frederick II. We now have Voltaire, La + Mettrie, the Sans-Souci suppers, Cagliostro, Saint-Germain and the occult + sciences. Frederick II sends Consuelo to prison. There appears to be no + reason for this, unless it be that in order to escape she must first have + been imprisoned. Some mysterious rescuers take a great interest in + Consuelo, and transport her to a strange dwelling, where she has a whole + series of surprises. It is, in fact, a sort of Palace of Illusions. She is + first in a dark room, and she then finds herself suddenly in a room of + dazzling light. "At the far end of this room, the whole aspect of which is + very forbidding, she distinguishes seven personages, wrapped in red cloaks + and wearing masks of such livid whiteness that they looked like corpses. + They were all seated behind a table of black marble. Just in front of the + table, and on a lower seat, was an eighth spectre. He was dressed in + black, and he, too, wore a white mask. By the wall, on each side of the + room, were about twenty men in black cloaks and masks. There was the most + profound silence. Consuelo turned round and saw that there were also black + phantoms behind her. At each door there were two of them standing up, each + holding a huge, bright sword."(37) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (37) <i>Comtesse de Rudolstadt.</i> +</pre> + <p> + She wondered whether she had reached the infernal regions, but she + discovered that she was in the midst of a secret society, styled the + Invisibles. Consuelo is to go through all the various stages of the + initiation. She first puts on the bridal dress, and after this the widow's + weeds. She undergoes all the various trials, and has to witness the + different spectacles provided for her edification, including coffins, + funeral palls, spectres and simulated tortures. The description of all the + various ceremonies takes up about half of the book. George Sand's object + was to show up this movement of secret societies, which was such a feature + of the eighteenth century, and which was directed both against monarchical + power and against the Church. It contributed to prepare the way for the + Revolution, and gave to this that international character and that mystic + allure which would otherwise have been incomprehensible. + </p> + <p> + From <i>Spiridion</i> to the <i>Comtesse de Rudolstadt</i>, then, we have + this series of fantastical novels with ghosts, subterranean passages, + secret hiding-places, hallucinations and apparitions. The unfortunate part + is that at present we scarcely know to what category of readers they would + appeal. As regards grown-up people, we all prefer something with a vestige + of truth in it now-a-days. As to our children, they would prefer <i>Monte-Cristo</i> + to <i>Consuelo</i>, and <i>Tom Thumb</i> to <i>Spiridion</i>. At the time + that they were written, in spite of the fact that Buloz protested against + all this philosophy, these novels were quite in accordance with the public + taste. A mania for anything fantastic had taken possession of the most + serious people. Ballanche wrote his <i>La Palingenesie</i>, and Edgar + Quinet <i>Ahasverus</i>. Things took place through the ages, and the + reader travelled through the immensity of the centuries, just as though + Wells had already invented his machine for exploring time. In a country + like France, where clear-mindedness and matter-of-fact intelligence are + appreciated, all this seems surprising. It was no doubt the result of + infiltrations which had come from abroad. There was something wrong with + us just then, "something rotten in the kingdom of France." We see this by + that fever of socialistic doctrines which burst forth among us about the + year 1840. We have the <i>Phalanstere</i> by Fourier, <i>La Phalange</i> + by Considerant, the <i>Icarie</i> by Cabet, and his famous <i>Voyage</i>, + which appeared that very year. We were always to be devoured by the State, + accompanied by whatever sauce we preferred. The State was always to find + us shelter, to dress us, to govern us and to tyrannize over us. There was + the State as employer, the State as general storekeeper, the State to feed + us; all this was a dream of bliss. Buonarotti, formerly Babeuf's + accomplice, preached Communism. Louis Blanc published his <i>Organisation + du travail</i>, in which he calls to his aid a political revolution, + foretaste of a social revolution. Proudhon published his <i>Memoire sur la + propriete</i>, containing the celebrated phrase: "Property means theft." + He declared himself an anarchist, and as a matter of fact anarchy was + already everywhere. A fresh evil had suddenly made its appearance, and, by + a cruel irony, it was the logical consequence of that industrial + development of which the century was so proud. The result of all that + wealth had been to create a new form of misery, an envious, jealous form + of misery, much more cruel than the former one, for it filled the heart + with a ferment of hatred, a passion for destruction. + </p> + <p> + It was Pierre Leroux, also, who led George Sand on to Socialism. She had + been on the way to it by herself. For a long time she had been raising an + altar in her heart to that entity called the People, and she had been + adorning it with all the virtues. The future belonged to the people, the + whole of the future, and first of all that of literature. + </p> + <p> + Poetry was getting a little worn out, but to restore its freshness there + were the poets of the people. Charles Poncy, of Toulon, a bricklayer, + published a volume of poetry, in 1842, entitled <i>Marines</i>. George + Sand adopted him. He was the demonstration of her theory, the example + which illustrated her dream. She congratulated him and encouraged him. + "You are a great poet," she said to him, and she thereupon speaks of him + to all her friends. "Have you read Baruch?" she asks them. "Have you read + Poncy, a poet bricklayer of twenty years of age?" She tells every one + about his book, dwells on its beauties, and asks people to speak of it. + </p> + <p> + As a friend of George Sand, I have examined the poems by Poncy of which + she specially speaks. The first one is entitled <i>Meditation sur les + toits</i>. The poet has been obliged to stay on the roof to complete his + work, and while there he meditates. + </p> + <p> + <i>"Le travail me retient bien tard sur ces toitures</i>. . . ." + </p> + <p> + He then begins to wonder what he would see if, like Asmodee in the <i>Diable + boiteux</i>, he could have the roof taken off, so that the various rooms + could be exposed to view. Alas! he would not always find the concord of + the Golden Age. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>Que de fois contemolant cet amas de maisons + Quetreignent nos remparts couronnes de gazons, + Et ces faubourgs naissants que la ville trop pleine + Pour ses enfants nouveaux eleve dans la plaine. + Immobiles troufieaux ou notre clocher gris + Semble un patre au milieu de ses blanches brebis, + Jai pense que, malgre notre angoisse et nos peines, + Sous ces toits paternels il existait des haines, + Et que des murs plus forts que ces murs mitoyens + Separent ici-bas les coeurs des citoyens.</i> +</pre> + <p> + This was an appeal to concord, and all brothers of humanity were invited + to rally to the watchword. + </p> + <p> + The intention was no doubt very good. Then, too, <i>murs mitoyens</i> was + an extremely rich and unexpected rhyme for <i>citoyens</i>. This was + worthy indeed of a man of that party. + </p> + <p> + Another of the poems greatly admired by George Sand was <i>Le Forcat</i>. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>Regarder le forcat sur la poutre equarrie + Poser son sein hale que le remords carie</i>. . . +</pre> + <p> + Certainly if Banville were to lay claim to having invented rhymes that are + puns, we could only say that he was a plagiarist after reading Charles + Poncy. + </p> + <p> + In another poem addressed to the rich, entitled <i>L'hiver</i>, the poet + notices with grief that the winter + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . <i>qui remplit les salons, les Watres, + Remplit aussi la Morgue et les amphitheatres.</i> +</pre> + <p> + He is afraid that the people will, in the end, lose their patience, and so + he gives to the happy mortals on this earth the following counsel: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>Riches, a vos plaisirs faites participer + L'homme que les malheurs s'acharnent a frapper + Oh, faites travailler le pere de famille, + Pour qu'il puisse arbiter la pudeur de sa fille, + Pourqu'aux petits enfants maigris par les douleurs + Il rapporte, le soir, le pain et non des pleurs, + Afin que son epouse, au desespoir en proie, + Se ranime a sa vue et l'embrasse avec joie, + Afin qua l'Eternel, a l'heure de sa mort. + Vous n'offriez pas un coeur carie de remords</i>. +</pre> + <p> + The expression certainly leaves much to be desired in these poems, but + they are not lacking in eloquence. We had already had something of this + kind, though, written by a poet who was not a bricklayer. He, too, had + asked the rich the question following: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>Dans vos fetes d'hiver, riches, heureux du monde, + Quand le bal tournoyant de ses feux vous inonde. . . + Songez-vous qu'il est la, sous le givre et la neige, + Ce pere sans travail que la famine assiege?</i> +</pre> + <p> + He advises them to practise charity, the sister of prayer. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "<i>Donnez afin qu'un jour, a votre derniere heure, + Contre tous vos peches vous ayez la Priere + D'un mendiant puissant au ciel</i>." +</pre> + <p> + We cannot, certainly, expect Poncy to be a Victor Hugo. But as we had + Victor Hugo's verses, of what use was it for them to be rewritten by + Poncy? My reason for quoting a few of the fine lines from <i>Feuilles + d'automne</i> is that I felt an urgent need of clearing away all these + platitudes. Poncy was not the only working-man poet. Other trades produced + their poets too. The first poem in <i>Marines</i> is addressed to Durand, + a poet carpenter, who introduces himself as "<i>Enfant de la foret qui + ceint Fontainebleau</i>." + </p> + <p> + This man handled the plane and the lyre, just as Poncy did the trowel and + the lyre. + </p> + <p> + This poetry of the working-classes was to give its admirers plenty of + disappointment. George Sand advised Poncy to treat the things connected + with his trade, in his poetry. "Do not try to put on other men's clothes, + but let us see you in literature with the plaster on your hands which is + natural to you and which interests us," she said to him. + </p> + <p> + Proud of his success with the ladies of Paris, Poncy wanted to wash his + hands, put on a coat, and go into society. It was all in vain that George + Sand beseeched Poncy to remain the poet of humanity. She exposed to him + the dogma of impersonality in such fine terms, that more than one <i>bourgeois</i> + poet might profit by what she said. + </p> + <p> + "An individual," she said, "who poses as a poet, as a pure artist, as a + god like most of our great men do, whether they be <i>bourgeois</i> or + aristocrats, soon tires us with his personality. . . . Men are only + interested in a man when that man is interested in humanity." + </p> + <p> + This was all of no use, though, for Poncy was most anxious to treat other + subjects rather more lively and—slightly libertine. His literary + godmother admonished him. + </p> + <p> + "You are dedicating to <i>Juana l'Espagnole</i> and to various other + fantastical beauties verses that I do not approve. Are you a <i>bourgeois</i> + poet or a poet of the people? If the former, you can sing in honour of all + the voluptuousness and all the sirens of the universe, without ever having + known either. You can sup with the most delicious houris or with all the + street-walkers, in your poems, without ever leaving your fireside or + having seen any greater beauty than the nose of your hall-porter. These + gentlemen write their poetry in this way, and their rhyming is none the + worse for it. But if you are a child of the people and the poet of the + people, you ought not to leave the chaste breast of Desiree, in order to + run about after dancing-girls and sing about their voluptuous arms."(38) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (38) See the letters addressed to Charles Poncy in the + <i>Correspondance.</i> +</pre> + <p> + It is to be hoped that Poncy returned to the chaste Desiree. But why + should he not read to the young woman the works of Pierre Leroux? We need + a little gaiety in our life. In George Sand's published <i>Correspondance</i>, + we only have a few of her letters to Charles Poncy. They are all in + excellent taste. There is an immense correspondence which M. Rocheblave + will publish later on. This will be a treat for us, and it will no doubt + prove that there was a depth of immense candour in the celebrated + authoress. + </p> + <p> + It does not seem to me that the writings of the working-men poets have + greatly enriched French literature. Fortunately George Sand's sympathy + with the people found its way into literature in another way, and this + time in a singularly interesting way. She did not get the books written by + the people themselves, but she put the people into books. This was the + plan announced by George Sand in her preface to the <i>Compagnon du tour + de France</i>. There is an entirely fresh literature to create, she + writes, "with the habits and customs of the people, as these are so little + known by the other classes." The <i>Compagnon du tour de France</i> was + the first attempt at this new literature of the people. George Sand had + obtained her documents for this book from a little work which had greatly + struck her, entitled <i>Livre du compagnonnage</i>, written by Agricol + Perdiguier, surnamed Avignonnais-la-Vertu, who was a <i>compagnon</i> + carpenter. Agricol Perdiguier informs us that the <i>Compagnons</i> were + divided into three chief categories: the <i>Gavots</i>, the <i>Devorants</i> + and the <i>Drilles</i>, or the <i>Enfants de Salomon</i>, the <i>Enlants + de Maitre Jacques</i> and the <i>Enfants du</i> <i>Pere Soubise</i>. He + then describes the rites of this order. When two <i>Compagnons</i> met, + their watchword was "<i>Tope</i>." After this they asked each other's + trade, and then they went to drink a glass together. If a <i>Compagnon</i> + who was generally respected left the town, the others gave him what was + termed a "conduite en regle." If it was thought that he did not deserve + this, he had a "conduite de Grenoble." Each <i>Compagnon</i> had a + surname, and among such surnames we find <i>The Prudence of Draguignan</i>, + <i>The Flower of Bagnolet</i> and <i>The Liberty of Chateauneuf</i>. The + unfortunate part was that among the different societies, instead of the + union that ought to have reigned, there were rivalries, quarrels, fights, + and sometimes all this led to serious skirmishes; Agricol Perdiguier + undertook to preach to the different societies peace and tolerance. He + went about travelling through France with this object in view. His second + expedition was-at George Sand's expense. + </p> + <p> + A fresh edition of his book contained the letters of approval addressed to + him by those who approved his campaign. Among these signatures are the + following: Nantais-Pret-a-bien-faire, Bourgignonla-Felicite, + Decide-le-Briard. All this is a curious history of the syndicates of the + nineteenth century. Agricol Perdiguier may have seen the <i>Confederation + du Travail</i> dawning in the horizon. + </p> + <p> + In the <i>Compagnon du Tour de France</i>, Pierre Huguenin, a carpenter, + travels about among all these different societies of the <i>Compagnonnage</i>, + and lets us see something of their competition, rivalries, battles, etc. + He is then sent for to the Villepreux Chateau, to do some work. The noble + Yseult falls in love with this fine-talking carpenter, and at once begs + him to make her happy by marrying her. + </p> + <p> + In the <i>Meunier d'Angibault</i> it is a working locksmith, Henri Lemor, + who falls in love with Marcelle de Blanchemont. Born to wealth, she + regrets that she is not the daughter or the mother of workingmen. Finally, + however, she loses her fortune, and rejoices in this event. The personage + who stands out in relief in this novel is the miller, Grand Louis. He is + always gay and contented, with a smile on his lips, singing lively songs + and giving advice to every one. + </p> + <p> + In the <i>Peche de M. Antoine</i>, the <i>role</i> of Grand Louis falls to + Jean the carpenter. In this story all the people are communists, with the + exception of the owner of the factory, who, in consequence, is treated + with contempt. His son Emile marries the daughter of Monsieur Antoine. Her + name is Gilberte, and a silly old man, the Marquis de Boisguilbaut, leaves + her all his money, on condition that the young couple found a colony of + agriculturists in which there shall be absolute communism. All these + stories, full of eloquence and dissertations on the misfortune of being + rich and the corrupting influence of wealth, would be insufferable, if it + were not for the fact that the Angibault mill were in the Black Valley, + and the crumbling chateau, belonging to Monsieur Antoine, on the banks of + the Creuse. + </p> + <p> + They are very poor novels, and it would be a waste of time to attempt to + defend them. They are not to be despised, though, as regards their + influence on the rest of George Sand's work, and also as regards the + history of the French novel. They rendered great service to George Sand, + inasmuch as they helped her to come out of herself and to turn her + attention to the miseries of other people, instead of dwelling all the + time on her own. The miseries she now saw were more general ones, and + consequently more worthy of interest. In the history of the novel they are + of capital importance, as they are the first ones to bring into notice, by + making them play a part, people of whom novelists had never spoken. Before + Eugene Sue and before Victor Hugo, George Sand gives a <i>role</i> to a + mason, a carpenter and a joiner. We see the working-class come into + literature in these novels, and this marks an era. + </p> + <p> + As to their socialistic influence, it is supposed by many people that they + had none. The kind of socialism that consists of making tinkers marry + marchionesses, and duchesses marry zinc-workers, seems very childish and + very feminine. It is just an attempt at bringing about the marriage of + classes. This socialistic preaching, by means of literature, cannot be + treated so lightly, though, as it is by no means harmless. It is, on the + contrary, a powerful means of diffusing doctrines to which it lends the + colouring of imagination, and for which it appeals to the feelings. George + Sand propagated the humanitarian dream among a whole category of men and + women who read her books. But for her, they would probably have turned a + deaf ear to the inducements held out to them with regard to this Utopia. + Lamartine with his <i>Girondins</i> reconciled the <i>bourgeois</i> + classes to the idea of the Revolution. In both cases the effect was the + same, and it is just this which literature does in affairs of this kind. + Its <i>role</i> consists here in creating a sort of snobbism, and this + snobbism, created by literature in favour of all the elements of social + destruction, continues to rage at present. We still see men smiling + indulgently and stupidly at doctrines of revolt and anarchy, which they + ought to repudiate, not because of their own interest, but because it is + their duty to repudiate them with all the strength of their own common + sense and rectitude. Instead of any arguments, we have facts to offer. All + this was in 1846, and the time was now drawing near when George Sand was + to see those novels of hers actually taking place in the street, so that + she could throw down to the rioters the bulletins that she wrote in their + honour. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII + </h2> + <h3> + 1848 + </h3> + <p> + GEORGE SAND AND THE PROVISIONAL GOVERNMENT—HER PASTORAL NOVELS + </p> + <p> + IN 1846, George Sand published <i>Le Peche de M. Antoine</i>. It was a + very dull story of a sin, for sins are not always amusing. The same year, + though, she published <i>La Mare au Diable</i>. People are apt to say, + when comparing the socialistic novels and the pastoral novels by George + Sand, that the latter are superb, because they are the result of a + conception of art that was quite disinterested, as the author had given up + her preaching mania, and devoted herself to depicting people that she knew + and things that she liked, without any other care than that of painting + them well. Personally, I think that this was not so. George Sand's + pastoral style is not essentially different from her socialistic style. + The difference is only in the success of the execution, but the ideas and + the intentions are the same. George Sand is continuing her mission in + them, she is going on with her humanitarian dream, that dream which she + dreamed when awake. + </p> + <p> + We have a proof of this in the preface of the author to the reader with + which the <i>Mare au Diable</i> begins. This preface would be + disconcerting to any one who does not remember the intellectual atmosphere + in which it was written. + </p> + <p> + People have wondered by what fit of imagination George Sand, when telling + such a wholesome story of country life, should evoke the ghastly vision of + Holbein's Dance of Death. It is the close of day, the horses are thin and + exhausted, there is an old peasant, and, skipping about in the furrows + near the team, is Death, the only lively, careless, nimble being in this + scene of "sweat and weariness." She gives us the explanation of it + herself. She wanted to show up the ideal of the new order of things, as + opposed to the old ideal, as translated by the ghastly dance. + </p> + <p> + "We have nothing more to do with death," she writes, "but with life. We no + longer believe in the <i>neant</i> of the tomb, nor in salvation bought by + enforced renunciation. We want life to be good, because we want it to be + fertile. . . . Every one must be happy, so that the happiness of a few may + not be criminal and cursed by God." This note we recognize as the common + feature of all the socialistic Utopias. It consists in taking the opposite + basis to that on which the Christian idea is founded. Whilst Christianity + puts off, until after death, the possession of happiness, transfiguring + death by its eternal hopes, Socialism places its Paradise on earth. It + thus runs the risk of leaving all those without any recourse who do not + find this earth a paradise, and it has no answer to give to the + lamentations of incurable human misery. + </p> + <p> + George Sand goes on to expose to us the object of art, as she understands + it. She believes that it is for pleading the cause of the people. + </p> + <p> + She does not consider that her <i>confreres</i> in novel-writing and in + Socialism set about their work in the best way. They paint poverty that is + ugly and vile, and sometimes even vicious and criminal. How is it to be + expected that the bad, rich man will take pity on the sorrows of the poor + man, if this poor man is always presented to him as an escaped convict or + a night loafer? It is very evident that the people, as presented to us in + the <i>Mysteres de Paris</i>, are not particularly congenial to us, and we + should have no wish to make the acquaintance of the "Chourineur." In order + to bring about conversions, George Sand has more faith in gentle, + agreeable people, and, in conclusion, she tells us: "We believe that the + mission of art is a mission of sentiment and of love, and that the novel + of to-day ought to take the place of the parable and the apologue of more + primitive times." The object of the artist, she tells us, "is to make + people appreciate what he presents to them." With that end in view, he has + a right to embellish his subjects a little. "Art," we are told, "is not a + study of positive reality; it is the seeking for ideal truth." Such is the + point of view of the author of <i>La Mare au Diable</i>, which we are + invited to consider as a parable and an apologue. + </p> + <p> + The parable is clear enough, and the apologue is eloquent. The novel + commences with that fine picture of the ploughing of the fields, so rich + in description and so broadly treated that there seems to be nothing in + French literature to compare with it except the episode of the Labourers + in <i>Jocelyn</i>. When <i>Jocelyn</i> was published, George Sand was + severe in her criticism of it, treating it as poor work, false in + sentiment and careless in style. "In the midst of all this, though," she + adds, "there are certain pages and chapters such as do not exist in any + language, pages that I read seven times over, crying all the time like a + donkey." I fancy that she must have cried over the episode of the <i>Labourers</i>. + Whether she remembered it or not when writing her own book little matters. + My only reason for mentioning it is to point out the affinity of genius + between Lamartine and George Sand, both of them so admirable in imagining + idylls and in throwing the colours of their idyllic imagination on to + reality. + </p> + <p> + I have ventured, to analyze the <i>Comtesse de Rudolstadt</i> and even <i>Consuelo</i>, + but I shall not be guilty of the bad taste of telling the story of <i>La + Mare au Diable</i>, as all the people of that neighbourhood are well known + to us, and have been our friends for a long time. We are all acquainted + with Germain, the clever farm-labourer, with Marie, the shepherdess, and + with little Pierre. We remember how they climbed the <i>Grise</i>, lost + their way in the mist, and were obliged to spend the night under the great + oak-trees. When we were only about fifteen years of age, with what delight + we read this book, and how we loved that sweet Marie for her simple grace + and her affection, which all seemed so maternal. How much better we liked + her than the Widow Guerin, who was so snobbish with her three lovers. And + how glad we were to be present at that wedding, celebrated according to + the custom in Berry from time immemorial. + </p> + <p> + It is easy to see the meaning of all these things. They show us how + natural kindliness is to the heart of man. If we try to find out why + Germain and Marie appear so delightful to us, we shall discover that it is + because they are simple-hearted, and follow the dictates of Nature. Nature + must not be deformed, therefore, by constraint nor transformed by + convention, as it leads straight to virtue. + </p> + <p> + We have heard the tune of this song before, and we have seen the + blossoming of some very fine pastoral poems and a veritable invasion of + sentimental literature. In those days tears were shed plentifully over + poetry, novels and plays. We have had Bernardin de Saint-Pierre, Sedaine, + Florian and Berquin. The Revolution, brutal and sanguinary as it was, did + not interrupt the course of these romantic effusions. Never were so many + tender epithets used as during the years of the Reign of Terror, and in + official processions Robespierre was adorned with flowers like a village + bride. + </p> + <p> + This taste for pastoral things, at the time of the Revolution, was not a + mere coincidence. The same principles led up to the idyll in literature + and to the Revolution in history. Man was supposed to be naturally good, + and the idea was to take away from him all the restraints which had been + invented for curbing his nature. Political and religious authority, moral + discipline and the prestige of tradition had all formed a kind of network + of impediments, by which man had been imprisoned by legislators who were + inclined to pessimism. By doing away with all these fetters, the Golden + Age was to be restored and universal happiness was to be established. Such + was the faith of the believers in the millennium of 1789, and of 1848. The + same dream began over and over again, from Diderot to Lamartine and from + Jean-Jacques to George Sand. The same state of mind which we see reflected + in <i>La Mare au Diable</i> was to make of George Sand the revolutionary + writer of 1848. We can now understand the <i>role</i> which the novelist + played in the second Republic. It is one of the most surprising pages in + the history of this extraordinary character. + </p> + <p> + The joy with which George Sand welcomed the Republic can readily be + imagined. She had been a Republican ever since the days of Michel of + Bourges, and a democrat since the time when, as a little girl, she took + the side of her plebeian mother against "the old Countesses." For a long + time she had been wishing for and expecting a change of government. She + would not have been satisfied with less than this. She was not much moved + by the Thiers-Guizot duel, and it would have given her no pleasure to be + killed for the sake of Odilon Barrot. She was a disciple of Romanticism, + and she wanted a storm. When the storm broke, carrying all before it, a + throne, a whole society with its institutions, she hurried away from her + peaceful Nohant. She wanted to breathe the atmosphere of a revolution, and + she was soon intoxicated by it. + </p> + <p> + "Long live the Republic," she wrote in her letters. "What a dream and what + enthusiasm, and then, too, what behaviour, what order in Paris. I have + just arrived, and I saw the last of the barricades. The people are great, + sublime, simple and generous, the most admirable people in the universe. I + spent nights without any sleep and days without sitting down. Every one + was wild and intoxicated with delight, for after going to sleep in the + mire they have awakened in heaven."(39) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (39) <i>Correspondance: </i> To Ch. Poncy, March 9, 1848. +</pre> + <p> + She goes on dreaming thus of the stars. Everything she hears, everything + she sees enchants her. The most absurd measures delight her. She either + thinks they are most noble, liberal steps to have taken, or else they are + very good jokes. + </p> + <p> + "Rothschild," she writes, "expresses very fine sentiments about liberty at + present. The Provisional Government is keeping him in sight, as it does + not wish him to make off with his money, and so will put some of the + troops on his track. The most amusing things are happening." A little + later on she writes: "The Government and the people expect to have bad + deputies, but they have agreed to put them through the window. You must + come, and we will go and see all this and have fun."(40) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (40) <i>Correspondance:</i> To Maurice Sand, March 24, 1848. +</pre> + <p> + She was thoroughly entertained, and that is very significant. We must not + forget the famous phrase that sounded the death-knell of the July + monarchy, "La France s'ennuie." France had gone in for a revolution by way + of being entertained. + </p> + <p> + George Sand was entertained, then, by what was taking place. She went down + into the street where there was plenty to see. In the mornings there were + the various coloured posters to be read. These had been put up in the + night, and they were in prose and in verse. + </p> + <p> + Processions were also organized, and men, women and children, with banners + unfurled, marched along to music to the Hotel de Ville, carrying baskets + decorated with ribbons and flowers. Every corporation and every profession + considered itself bound in honour to congratulate the Government and to + encourage it in its well-doing. One day the procession would be of the + women who made waistcoats or breeches, another day of the water-carriers, + or of those who had been decorated in July or wounded in February; then + there were the pavement-layers, the washerwomen, the delegates from the + Paris night-soil men. There were delegates, too, from the Germans, + Italians, Poles, and most of the inhabitants of Montmartre and of + Batignolles. We must not forget the trees of Liberty, as George Sand + speaks of meeting with three of these in one day. "Immense pines," she + writes, "carried on the shoulders of fifty working-men. A drum went first, + then the flag, followed by bands of these fine tillers of the ground, + strong-looking, serious men with wreaths of leaves on their head, and a + spade, pick-axe or hatchet over their shoulder. It was magnificent; finer + than all the <i>Roberts</i> in the world."(41) Such was the tone of her + letters. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (41) <i>Correspondance.</i> +</pre> + <p> + She had the Opera from her windows and an Olympic circus at every + cross-road. Paris was certainly <i>en fete</i>. In the evenings it was + just as lively. There were the Clubs, and there were no less than three + hundred of these. Society women could go to them and hear orators in + blouses proposing incendiary movements, which made them shudder + deliciously. Then there were the theatres. Rachel, draped in antique + style, looking like a Nemesis, declaimed the <i>Marseillaise</i>. And all + night long the excitement continued. The young men organized torchlight + processions, with fireworks, and insisted on peaceably-inclined citizens + illuminating. It was like a National Fete day, or the Carnival, continuing + all the week. + </p> + <p> + All this was the common, everyday aspect of Paris, but there were the + special days as well to break the monotony of all this. There were the + manifestations, which had the great advantage of provoking + counter-manifestations. On the 16th of March, there was the manifestation + of the National Guard, who were tranquil members of society, but on the + 17th there was a counter-manifestation of the Clubs and workingmen. On + such days the meeting-place would be at the Bastille, and from morning to + night groups, consisting of several hundred thousand men, would march + about Paris, sometimes in favour of the Assembly against the Provisional + Government, and sometimes in favour of the Provisional Government against + the Assembly. On the 17th of April, George Sand was in the midst of the + crowd, in front of the Hotel de Ville, in order to see better. On the 15th + of May, as the populace was directing its efforts against the Palais + Bourbon, she was in the Rue de Bourgogne, in her eagerness not to miss + anything. As she was passing in front of a <i>cafe</i>, she saw a woman + haranguing the crowd in a very animated way from one of the windows. She + was told that this woman was George Sand. Women were extremely active in + this Revolution. They organized a Legion for themselves, and were styled + <i>"Les Vesuviennes</i>." They had their clubs, their banquets and their + newspapers. George Sand was far from approving all this feminine + agitation, but she did not condemn it altogether. She considered that + "women and children, disinterested as they are in all political questions, + are in more direct intercourse with the spirit that breathes from above + over the agitations of this world."(42) It was for them, therefore, to be + the inspirers of politics. George Sand was one of these inspirers. In + order to judge what counsels this Egeria gave, we have only to read some + of her letters. On the 4th of March, she wrote as follows to her friend + Girerd: "Act vigorously, my dear brother. In our present situation, we + must have even more than devotion and loyalty; we must have fanaticism if + necessary." In conclusion, she says that he is not to hesitate "in + sweeping away all that is of a <i>bourgeois</i> nature." In April she + wrote to Lamartine, reproaching him with his moderation and endeavouring + to excite his revolutionary spirit. Later on, although she was not of a + very warlike disposition, she regretted that they had not, like their + ancestors of 1793, cemented their Revolution at home by a war with the + nations. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (42) <i>Correspondance:</i> To the Citizen Thore, May 28, 1848. +</pre> + <p> + "If, instead of following Lamartine's stupid, insipid policy," she then + wrote, "we had challenged all absolute monarchies, we should have had war + outside, but union at home, and strength, in consequence of this, it home + and abroad."(43) Like the great ancestors, she declared that the + revolutionary idea is neither that of a sect nor of a party. "It is a + religion," she says, "that we want to proclaim." All this zeal, this + passion and this persistency in a woman is not surprising, but one does + not feel much confidence in a certain kind of inspiration for politics + after all this. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (43) <i>Correspondance:</i> To Mazzini, October 10, 1849. +</pre> + <p> + My reason for dwelling on the subject is that George Sand did not content + herself with merely looking on at the events that were taking place, or + even with talking about them with her friends. She took part in the + events, by means of her pen. She scattered abroad all kinds of + revolutionary writings. On the 7th of March, she published her first <i>Letter + to the People</i>, at the price of a penny, the profits of which were to + be distributed among working-men without employment. After congratulating + these great and good people on their noble victory, she tells them they + are all going to seek together for the truth of things. That was exactly + the state of the case. They did not yet know what they wanted, but, in the + mean time, while they were considering, they had at any rate begun with a + revolution. There was a second <i>Letter to the People</i>, and then these + ceased. Publications in those days were very short-lived. They came to + life again, though, sometimes from their ashes. In April a newspaper was + started, entitled <i>The Cause of the People</i>. This was edited almost + entirely by George Sand. She wrote the leading article: <i>Sovereignty is + Equality</i>. She reproduced her first <i>Letter to the People</i>, gave + an article on the aspect of the streets of Paris, and another on + theatrical events. She left to her collaborator, Victor Borie, the task of + explaining that the increase of taxes was an eminently republican measure, + and an agreeable surprise for the person who had to pay them. The third + number of this paper contained a one-act play by George Sand, entitled <i>Le + Roi attend</i>. This had just been given at the Comedie-Francaise, or at + the Theatre de la Republique, as it was then called. It had been a gratis + performance, given on the 9th of April, 1848, as a first national + representation. The actors at that time were Samson, Geffroy, Regnier, + Anais, Augustine Brohan and Rachel. There were not many of them, but they + had some fine things to interpret. + </p> + <p> + In George Sand's piece, Moliere was at work with his servant, Laforet, who + could not read, but without whom, it appears, he could not have written a + line. He has not finished his play, the actors have not learnt their + parts, and the king is impatient at being kept waiting. Moliere is + perplexed, and, not knowing what to do, he decides to go to sleep. The + Muse appears to him, styles him "the light of the people," and brings to + him all the ghosts of the great poets before him. AEschylus, Sophocles, + Euripides and Shakespeare all declare to him that, in their time, they had + all worked towards preparing the Revolution of 1848. Moliere then wakes + up, and goes on to the stage to pay his respects to the king. The king has + been changed, though. "I see a king," says Moliere, "but his name is not + Louis XIV. It is the people, the sovereign people. That is a word I did + not know, a word as great as eternity." + </p> + <p> + We recognize the democrat in all this. <i>Le Roi</i> <i>attend</i> may be + considered as an authentic curiosity of revolutionary art. The newspaper + announced to its readers that subscriptions could be paid in the Rue + Richelieu. Subscribers were probably not forthcoming, as the paper died a + natural death after the third number. + </p> + <p> + George Sand did much more than this, though.(44) We must not forget that + she was an official publicist in 1848. She had volunteered her services to + Ledru-Rollin, and he had accepted them. "I am as busy as a statesman," she + wrote at this time. "I have already written two Government circulars."(45) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (44) With regard to George Sand's <i>role</i>, see <i>La Revolution + de</i> 1848, by Daniel Stern (Madame d'Agoult). + + (45) <i>Correspondance:</i> To Maurice Sand, March 24, 1848. +</pre> + <p> + With George Sand's collaboration, the <i>Bulletin de la Republique</i> + became unexpectedly interesting. This paper was published every other day, + by order of Ledru-Rollin, and was intended to establish a constant + interchange of ideas and sentiments between the Government and the people. + "It was specially addressed to the people of rural districts, and was in + the form of a poster that the mayor of the place could have put up on the + walls, and also distribute to the postmen to be given away. The <i>Bulletins</i> + were anonymous, but several of them were certainly written by George Sand. + The seventh is one of these, and also the twelfth. The latter was written + with a view to drawing the attention of the public to the wretched lot of + the women and girls of the lower classes, who were reduced to prostitution + by the lowness of their wages. Their virginity is an object of traffic," + we are told, "quoted on the exchange of infamy." The sixteenth <i>Bulletin</i> + was simply an appeal for revolt. George Sand was looking ahead to what + ought to take place, in case the elections did not lead to the triumph of + social truth. "The people," she hoped, "would know their duty. There + would, in that case, be only one way of salvation for the people who had + erected barricades, and that would be to manifest their will a second + time, and so adjourn the decisions of a representation that was not + national." This was nothing more nor less than the language of another + Fructidor. And we know what was the result of words in those days. The <i>Bulletin</i> + was dated the 15th, and on the 17th the people were on the way to the + Hotel de Ville. These popular movements cannot always be trusted, though, + as they frequently take an unexpected turn, and even change their + direction when on the way. It happened this time that the manifestation + turned against those who were its instigators. Shouts were heard that day + in Paris of <i>"Death to the Communists"</i> and <i>"Down with Cabet</i>." + George Sand could not understand things at all. This was not in the + programme, and she began to have her doubts about the future of the + Republic—the real one, that of her friends. + </p> + <p> + It was much worse on the 15th of May, the day which was so fatal to + Barbes, for he played the part of hero and of dupe on that eventful day. + Barbes was George Sand's idol at that time. + </p> + <p> + It was impossible for her to be without one, although, with her vivid + imagination, she changed her idols frequently. With her idealism, she was + always incarnating in some individual the perfections that she was + constantly imagining. It seems as though she exteriorized the needs of her + own mind and put them into an individual who seemed suitable to her for + the particular requirements of that moment. At the time of the monarchy, + Michel of Bourges and Pierre Leroux had been able to play the part, the + former of a radical theorician and the latter of the mystical forerunner + of the new times. At present Barbes had come on to the scene. + </p> + <p> + He was a born conspirator, the very man for secret societies. He had made + his career by means of prisons, or rather he had made prison his career, + In 1835, he had commenced by helping thirty of the prisoners of April to + escape from Sainte-Pelagie. At that time he was affiliated to the <i>Societe + des Familles</i>. The police discovered a whole arsenal of powder and + ammunition at the house in the Rue de Lourcine, and Barbes was condemned + to prison for a year and sent to Carcassonne, where he had relatives. When + he left prison, the <i>Societe des Saisons</i> had taken the place of the + <i>Societe des Familles</i>. With Blanqui's approval, Barbes organized the + insurrection of May 12 and 13, 1830. This time blood was shed. In front of + the Palais de Justice, the men, commanded by Barbes, had invited + Lieutenant Droulneau to let them enter. The officer replied that he would + die first. He was immediately shot, but Barbes was sentenced to death for + this. Thanks to the intervention of Lamartine and Victor Hugo, his life + was spared, but he was imprisoned at Mont Saint-Michel until 1843, and + afterwards at Nimes. On the 28th of February, 1848, the Governor of Nimes + prison informed him that he was free. He was more surprised and + embarrassed than pleased by this news. + </p> + <p> + "I was quite bewildered," he owned later on, "by this idea of leaving + prison. I looked at my prison bed, to which I had grown so accustomed. I + looked at my blanket and at my pillow and at all my belongings, hung so + carefully at the foot of my bed." He asked permission to stay there + another day. He had become accustomed to everything, and when once he was + out again, and free, he was like a man who feels ill at ease. + </p> + <p> + He took part in the affair of the 15th of May, and this is what gives a + tragic, and at the same time comic, character to the episode. Under + pretext of manifesting in favour of Poland, the National Assembly was to + be invaded. Barbes did not approve of this manifestation, and had decided + to keep out of it. Some people cannot be present at a revolutionary scene + without taking part in it, and without soon wanting to play the chief part + in it. The excitement goes to their head. Barbes seems to have been + obeying in instinct over which he had no control, for, together with a + workman named Albert, he headed the procession which was to march from the + Chamber of Deputies to the Hotel de Ville and establish a fresh + Provisional Government. He had already commenced composing the + proclamations to be thrown through the windows to the people, after the + manner of the times, when suddenly Lamartine appeared on the scene with + Ledru-Rollin and a captain in the artillery. The following dialogue then + took place: + </p> + <p> + "Who are you?" + </p> + <p> + "A member of the Provisional Government." + </p> + <p> + "Of the Government of yesterday or of to-day?" + </p> + <p> + "Of the one of to-day." + </p> + <p> + "In that case I arrest you." + </p> + <p> + Barbes was taken to Vincennes. He had been free rather less than three + months, when he returned to prison as though it were his natural + dwelling-place. + </p> + <p> + George Sand admired him just as much after this as before. For her, the + great man of the Revolution was neither Ledru-Rollin, Lamartine, nor even + Louis-Blanc; it was Barbes. She compared him to Joan of Arc and to + Robespierre. To her, he was much more than a mere statesman, this man of + conspiracies and dungeons, ever mysterious and unfortunate, always ready + for a drama or a romance. In her heart she kept an altar for this martyr, + and never thought of wondering whether, after all, this idol and hero were + not a mere puppet. + </p> + <p> + The skirmish of May 15 undeceived George Sand very considerably. The June + insurrection and the civil war, with blood flowing in the Paris streets, + those streets which were formerly so lively and amusing, caused her + terrible grief. From henceforth her letters were full of her sadness and + discouragement. The most gloomy depression took the place of her former + enthusiasm. It had only required a few weeks for this change to take + place. In February she had been so proud of France, and now she felt that + she was to be pitied for being a Frenchwoman. It was all so sad, and she + was so ashamed. There was no one to count upon now. Lamartine was a + chatterer; Ledru-Rollin was like a woman; the people were ignorant and + ungrateful, so that the mission of literary people was over. She therefore + took refuge in fiction, and buried herself in her dreams of art. We are + not sorry to follow her there. + </p> + <p> + <i>Francois le Champi</i> appeared as a serial in the <i>Journal des + Debats</i>. The <i>denouement</i> was delayed by another <i>denouement</i>, + which the public found still more interesting. This was nothing less than + the catastrophe of the July Monarchy, in February, 1848. + </p> + <p> + After the terrible June troubles, George Sand had been heartbroken, and + had turned once more to literature for consolation. She wrote <i>La Petite + Fadette</i>, so that the pastoral romances and the Revolution are closely + connected with each other. Beside the novels of this kind which we have + already mentioned, we must add <i>Jeanne</i>, which dates from 1844, and + the <i>Maitres Sonneurs</i>, written in 1853. This, then, completes the + incomparable series, which was the author's <i>chef-d'oeuvre</i>, and one + of the finest gems of French literature. This was George Sand's real + style, and the note in literature which was peculiarly her own. She was + well fitted for such writing, both by her natural disposition and by + circumstances. She had lived nearly all her life in the country, and it + was there only that she lived to the full. She made great efforts, but + Paris certainly made her homesick for her beloved Berry. She could not + help sighing when she thought of the ploughed fields, of the walnut-trees, + and of the oxen answering to the voice of the labourers. + </p> + <p> + "It is no use," she wrote about the same time, "if you are born a country + person, you cannot get used to the noise of cities. It always seems to me + that our mud is beautiful mud, whilst that here makes me feel sick. I very + much prefer my keeper's wit to that of certain of the visitors here. It + seems to me that I am livelier when I have eaten some of Nannette's + wheat-cake than I am after my coffee in Paris. In short, it appears to me + that we are all perfect and charming, that no one could be more agreeable + than we are, and that Parisians are all clowns."(46) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (46) <i>Correspondance:</i> To. Ch. Duvernet, November 12, 1842. +</pre> + <p> + This was said in all sincerity. George Sand was quite indifferent about + all the great events of Parisian life, about social tittle-tattle and + Boulevard gossip. She knew the importance, though, of every episode of + country life, of a sudden fog or of the overflowing of the river. She knew + the place well, too, as she had visited every nook and corner in all + weathers and in every season. She knew all the people; there was not a + house she had not entered, either to visit the sick or to clear up some + piece of business for the inmates. Not only did she like the country and + the country people because she was accustomed to everything there, but she + had something of the nature of these people within her. She had a certain + turn of mind that was peasant-like, her slowness to take things in, her + dislike of speech when thinking, her thoughts taking the form of "a series + of reveries which gave her a sort of tranquil ecstasy, whether awake or + asleep."(47) It does not seem as though there has ever been such an <i>ensemble</i> + of favourable conditions. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (47) See in <i>Jeanne</i> a very fine page on the peasant soul. +</pre> + <p> + She did not succeed in her first attempt. In several of her novels, ever + since <i>Valentine</i>, she had given us peasants among her characters. + She had tried labourers, mole-catchers, fortune-tellers and beggars, but + all these were episodic characters. <i>Jeanne</i> is the first novel in + which the heroine is a peasant. Everything connected with Jeanne herself + in the novel is exquisite. We have all seen peasant women of this kind, + women with serious faces and clearly-cut features, with a dreamy look in + their eyes that makes us think of the maid of Lorraine. It is one of these + exceptional creatures that George Sand has depicted. She has made an + ecstatic being of her, who welcomes all that is supernatural, utterly + regardless of dates or epochs. To her all wonderful beings appeal, the + Virgin Mary and fairies, Druidesses, Joan of Arc and Napoleon. But Jeanne, + the Virgin of Ep Nell, the Velleda of the Jomatres stones, the mystical + sister of the Great Shepherdess, was very poorly supported. This remark + does not refer to her cousin Claudie, although this individual's conduct + was not blameless. Jeanne had gone into service at Boussac, and she was + surrounded by a group of middle-class people, among whom was Sir Arthur——, + a wealthy Englishman, who wanted to marry her. This mixture of peasants + and <i>bourgeois</i> is not a happy one. Neither is the mixture of <i>patois</i> + with a more Christian way of talking, or rather with a written style. The + author was experimenting and feeling her way. + </p> + <p> + When she wrote <i>La Mare au Diable</i> she had found it, for in this work + we have unity of tone, harmony of the characters with their setting, of + sentiment with the various adventures, and, above all, absolute + simplicity. + </p> + <p> + In <i>Francois le Champi</i> there is much that is graceful, and there is + real feeling mingled with a touch of sentimentality. Madeleine Blanchet is + rather old for Champi, whom she had brought up like her own child. In the + country, though, where difference of age is soon less apparent, the + disproportion does not seem as objectionable as it would in city life. The + novel is not a study of maternal affection in love, as it is not + Madeleine's feelings that are analyzed, but those of Francois. For a long + time he had been in love without knowing it, and he is only aware of it + when this love, instead of being a sort of agreeable dream and melancholy + pleasure, is transformed into suffering. + </p> + <p> + The subject of <i>La Petite Fadette</i> is another analysis of a love + which has been silent for a long time. It is difficult to say which is the + best of these delightful stories, but perhaps, on the whole, this last one + is generally preferred, on account of the curious and charming figure of + little Fadette herself. We can see the thin, slender girl, suddenly + appearing on the road, emerging from a thicket. She seems to be part of + the scenery, and can scarcely be distinguished from the objects around + her. The little wild country girl is like the spirit of the fields, woods, + rivers and precipices. She is a being very near to Nature. Inquisitive and + mischievous, she is bold in her speech, because she is treated as a + reprobate. She jeers, because she knows that she is detested, and she + scratches, because she suffers. The day comes when she feels some of that + affection which makes the atmosphere breathable for human beings. She + feels her heart beating faster in her bosom, thanks to this affection, and + from that minute a transformation takes place within her. Landry, who has + been observing her, is of opinion that she must be something of a witch. + Landry is very simple-minded. There is no witchcraft here except that of + love, and it was not difficult for that to work the metamorphosis. It has + worked many others in this world. + </p> + <p> + The <i>Maitres Soneurs</i> initiates us into forest life, so full of + mysterious visions. In opposition to the sedentary, stay-at-home life of + the inhabitant of plains, with his indolent mind, we have the + free-and-easy humour of the handsome and adventurous muleteer, Huriel, + with his love of the road and of all that is unexpected. He is a <i>cheminau</i> + before the days of M. Richepin. + </p> + <p> + I do not know any stories more finished than these. They certainly prove + that George Sand had the artistic sense, a quality which has frequently + been denied her. The characters in these stories are living and active, + and at the same time their psychology is not insisted upon, and they do + not stand out in such relief as to turn our attention from things, which, + as we know, are more important than people in the country. We are + surrounded on all sides by the country, and bathed, as it were, in its + atmosphere. And yet, in spite of all this, the country is not once + described. There is not one of those descriptions so dear to the heart of + those who are considered masters in the art of word-painting. We do not + describe those things with which we live. We are content to have them ever + present in our mind and to be in constant communion with them. Style is, + perhaps, the sovereign quality in these stories. Words peculiar to the + district are introduced just sufficiently to give an accent. Somewhat + old-fashioned expressions are employed, and these prove the survival of + by-gone days, which, in the country, are respected more than elsewhere. + Without any apparent effort, the narrative takes that epic form so natural + to those who, as <i>aedes</i> of primitive epochs, or story-tellers by + country firesides, give their testimony about things of the past. + </p> + <p> + I am aware that George Sand has been accused of tracing portraits of her + peasants which were not like them. This is so absurd that I do not + consider it worth while to spend time in discussing it. It would be so + easy to show that in her types of peasants there is more variety, and also + more reality, than in Balzac's more realistic ones. Without being + untruthful portraits, it may be that they are somewhat flattered, and that + we have more honest, delicate and religious peasants in these stories than + in reality. This may be so, and George Sand warns us of this herself. It + was her intention to depict them thus. + </p> + <p> + It was not absolute reality and the everyday details of the peasants' + habits and customs that she wanted to show us, but the poetry of the + country, the reflection of the great sights of Nature in the soul of those + who, thanks to their daily work, are the constant witnesses of them. The + peasant certainly has no exact notion of the poetry of Nature, nor is he + always conscious of it. He feels it, though, within his soul in a vague + way. At certain moments he has glimpses of it, perhaps, when love causes + him emotion, or perhaps when he is absent from the part of the world, + where he has always lived. His homesickness then gives him a keener + perception. This poetry is perhaps never clearly revealed to any + individual, not to the labourer who traces out his furrows tranquilly in + the early morning, nor to the shepherd who spends whole weeks alone in the + mountains, face to face with the stars. It dwells, though, in the inner + conscience of the race. The generations which come and go have it within + them, and they do not fall to express it. It is this poetry which we find + in certain customs and beliefs, in the various legends and songs. When Le + Champi returns to his native place, he finds the whole country murmuring + with the twitter of birds which he knew so well. + </p> + <p> + "And all this reminded him of a very old song with which his mother + Zabelli used to sing him to sleep. It was a song with words such as people + used to employ in olden times." + </p> + <p> + In George Sand's pastoral novels we have some of these old words. They + come to us from afar, and are like a supreme blossoming of old traditions. + </p> + <p> + It is all this which characterizes these books, and assigns to them their + place in our literature. We must not compare them with the rugged studies + of Balzac, nor with the insipid compositions of the bucolic writer, nor + even with Bernadin de Saint-Pierre's masterpiece, as there are too many + cocoanut trees in that. They prevent us seeing the French landscapes. Very + few people know the country in France and the humble people who dwell + there. Very few writers have loved the country well enough to be able to + depict its hidden charms. + </p> + <p> + La Fontaine has done it in his fables and Perrault in his tales. George + Sand has her place, in this race of writers, among the French Homers. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX + </h2> + <p> + THE 'BONNE DAME' OF NOHANT THE THEATRE—ALEXANDRE DUMAS FILS—LIFE + AT NOHANT + </p> + <p> + Novelists are given to speaking of the theatre somewhat disdainfully. They + say that there is too much convention, that an author is too much the + slave of material conditions, and is obliged to consider the taste of the + crowd, whilst a book appeals to the lover of literature, who can read it + by his own fireside, and to the society woman, who loses herself in its + pages. As soon, though, as one of their novels has had more success than + its predecessors, they do not hesitate to cut it up into slices, according + to the requirements of the publishing house, so that it may go beyond the + little circle of lovers of literature and society women and reach the + crowd—the largest crowd possible. + </p> + <p> + George Sand never pretended to have this immense disdain for the theatre + which is professed by ultra-refined writers. She had always loved the + theatre, and she bore it no grudge, although her pieces had been hissed. + In those days plays that did not find favour were hissed. At present they + are not hissed, either because there are no more poor plays, or because + the public has seen so many bad ones that it has become philosophical, and + does not take the trouble to show its displeasure. George Sand's first + piece, <i>Cosima</i>, was a noted failure. About the year 1850, she turned + to the theatre once more, hoping to find a new form of expression for her + energy and talent. <i>Francois le Champi</i> was a great success. In + January, 1851, she wrote as follows, after the performance of <i>Claudie:</i> + "A tearful success and a financial one. The house is full every day; not a + ticket given away, and not even a seat for Maurice. The piece is played + admirably; Bocage is magnificent. The public weeps and blows its nose, as + though it were in church. I am told that never in the memory of man has + there been such a first night. I was not present myself." + </p> + <p> + There may be a slight exaggeration in the words "never in the memory of + man," but the success was really great. <i>Claudie</i> is still given, and + I remember seeing Paul Mounet interpret the part of Remy admirably at the + Odeon Theatre. As to the <i>Mariage de Victorine</i>, it figures every + year on the programme of the Conservatoire competitions. It is the typical + piece for would-be <i>ingenues.</i> + </p> + <p> + <i>Francois le Champi, Claudie</i> and the <i>Mariage de Victorine</i> may + be considered as the series representing George Sand's dramatic writings. + These pieces were all her own, and, in her own opinion, that was their + principal merit. The dramatic author is frequently obliged to accept the + collaboration of persons who know nothing of literature. + </p> + <p> + "Your characters say this," observes the manager; "it is all very well, + but, believe me, it will be better for him to say just the opposite. The + piece will run at least sixty nights longer." There was a manager at the + Gymnase Theatre in those days named Montigny. He was a very clever + manager, and knew exactly what the characters ought to say for making the + piece run. George Sand complained of his mania for changing every play, + and she added: "Every piece that I did not change, such, for instance, as + <i>Champi</i>, <i>Claudie</i>, <i>Victorine, Le Demon du foyer</i> and <i>Le + Pressoir</i>, was a success, whilst all the others were either failures or + they had a very short run."(48) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (48) <i>Correspondance:</i> To Maurice Sand, February 24, 1855. +</pre> + <p> + It was in these pieces that George Sand carried out her own idea of what + was required for the theatre. Her idea was very simple. She gives it in + two or three words: "I like pieces that make me cry." She adds: "I like + drama better than comedy, and, like a woman, I must be infatuated by one + of the characters." This character is the congenial one. The public is + with him always and trembles for him, and the trembling is all the more + agreeable, because the public knows perfectly well that all will end well + for this character. It can even go as far as weeping the traditional six + tears, as Madame de Sevigne did for Andromaque. Tears at the theatre are + all the sweeter, because they are all in vain. When, in a play, we have a + congenial character who is there from the beginning to the end, the play + is a success. Let us take <i>Cyraino de Bergerac</i>, for instance, which + is one of the greatest successes in the history of the theatre. + </p> + <p> + Francois le Champi is eminently a congenial character, for he is a man who + always sets wrong things right. We are such believers in justice and in + the interference of Providence. When good, straightforward people are + persecuted by fate, we always expect to see a man appear upon the scene + who will be the champion of innocence, who will put evil-doers to rights, + and find the proper thing to do and say in every circumstance. + </p> + <p> + Francois appears at the house of Madeleine Blanchet, who is a widow and + very sad and ill. He takes her part and defends her from the results of La + Severe's intrigues. He is hard on the latter, and he disdains another + woman, Mariette, but both La Severe and Mariette love him, so true is it + that women have a weakness for conquerors. Francois only cares for + Madeleine, though. On the stage, we like a man to be adored by all women, + as this seems to us a guarantee that he will only care for one of them. + </p> + <p> + "Champi" is a word peculiar to a certain district, meaning "natural son." + Dumas <i>fils</i> wrote a play entitled <i>Le Fils naturel</i>. The hero + is also a superior man, who plays the part of Providence to the family + which has refused to recognize him. + </p> + <p> + In <i>Claudie</i>, as in <i>Francois le Champi</i>, the rural setting is + one of the great charms of the play. The first act is one of the most + picturesque scenes on the stage. It takes place in a farmyard, the day + when the reapers have finished their task, which is just as awe-inspiring + as that of the sowers. A cart, drawn by oxen, enters the yard, bringing a + sheaf all adorned with ribbons and flowers. The oldest of the labourers, + Pere Remy, addresses a fine couplet to the sheaf of corn which has cost so + much labour, but which is destined to keep life in them all. Claudie is + one of those young peasant girls, whom we met with in the novel entitled + <i>Jeanne</i>. She had been unfortunate, but Jeanne, although virtuous and + pure herself, did not despise her, for in the country there is great + latitude in certain matters. This is just the plain story, but on the + stage everything becomes more dramatic and is treated in a more detailed + and solemn fashion. Claudie's misfortune causes her to become a sort of + personage apart, and it raises her very high in her own esteem. + </p> + <p> + "I am not afraid of anything that can be said about me," observes Claudie, + "for, on knowing the truth, kind-hearted, upright people will acknowledge + that I do not deserve to be insulted." Her old grandfather, Remy, has + completely absolved her. + </p> + <p> + "You have repented and suffered enough, and you have worked and wept and + expiated enough, too, my poor Claudie," he says. Through all this she has + become worthy to make an excellent marriage. It is a case of that special + moral code by which, after free love, the fault must be recompensed. + </p> + <p> + Claudie is later on the Jeannine of the <i>Idees de Madame Aubray</i>, the + Denise of Alexandre Dumas. She is the unmarried mother, whose misfortunes + have not crushed her pride, who, after being outraged, has a right now to + a double share of respect. The first good young man is called upon to + accept her past life, for there is a law of solidarity in the world. The + human species is divided into two categories, the one is always busy doing + harm, and the other is naturally obliged to give itself up to making good + the harm done. + </p> + <p> + <i>The Mariage de Victorine</i> belongs to a well-known kind of literary + exercise, which was formerly very much in honour in the colleges. This + consists in taking a celebrated work at the place where the author has + left it and in imagining the "sequel." For instance, after the <i>Cid</i>, + there would be the marriage of Rodrigue and Chimene for us. As a + continuation of <i>L'Ecole des Femmes</i>, there is the result of the + marriage of the young Horace with the tiresome little Agnes. Corneille + gave a sequel to the <i>Menteur</i> himself. Fabre d'Eglantine wrote the + sequel to <i>Le Misanthrope</i>, and called it <i>Le Philinte de Moliere</i>. + George Sand gives us here the sequel of Sedaine's <i>chef-d'oeuvre</i> + (that is, a <i>chef-d'oeuvre</i> for Sedaine), <i>Le Philosophe sans le + savor.</i> + </p> + <p> + In <i>Le Philosophe sans le savoir</i> Monsieur Vanderke is a nobleman, + who has become a merchant in order to be in accordance with the ideas of + the times. He is a Frenchman, but he has taken a Dutch name out of + snobbishness. He has a clerk or a confidential servant named Antoine. + Victorine is Antoine's daughter. Vanderke's son is to fight a duel, and + from Victorine's emotion, whilst awaiting the result of this duel, it is + easy to see that she is in love with this young man. George Sand's play + turns on the question of what is to be done when the day comes for + Victorine to marry. An excellent husband is found for her, a certain + Fulgence, one of Monsieur Vanderke's clerks. He belongs to her own class, + and this is considered one of the indispensable conditions for happiness + in marriage. He loves her, so that everything seems to favour Victorine. + We are delighted, and she, too, seems to be in good spirits, but, all the + time that she is receiving congratulations and presents, we begin to see + that she has some great trouble. + </p> + <p> + "Silk and pearls!" she exclaims; "oh, how heavy they are, but I am sure + that they are very fine. Lace, too, and silver; oh, such a quantity of + silver. How rich and fine and happy I shall be. And then Fulgence is so + fond of me." (She gets sadder and sadder.) "And father is so pleased. How + strange. I feel stifled." (She sits down in Antoine's chair.) "Is this + joy? . . . I feel . . . Ah, it hurts to be as happy as this. . . ." She + bursts into tears. This suppressed emotion to which she finally gives + vent, and this forced smile which ends in sobs are very effective on the + stage. The question is, how can Victorine's tears be dried? She wants to + marry young Vanderke, the son of her father's employer, instead of the + clerk. The only thing is, then, to arrange this marriage. + </p> + <p> + "Is it a crime, then, for my brother to love Victorine?" asks Sophie, "and + is it mad of me to think that you will give your consent?" + </p> + <p> + "My dear Sophie," replies Monsieur Vanderke, "there are no unequal + marriages in the sight of God. A servitor like Antoine is a friend, and I + have always brought you up to consider Victorine as your companion and + equal." + </p> + <p> + This is the way the father of the family speaks. Personally, I consider + him rather imprudent. + </p> + <p> + As this play is already a sequel to another one, I do not wish to propose + a sequel to <i>Le Mariage de Victorine</i>, but I cannot help wondering + what will happen when Vanderke's son finds himself the son-in-law of an + old servant-man, and also what will occur if he should take his wife to + call on some of his sister's friends. It seems to me that he would then + find out he had, made a mistake. Among the various personages, only one + appears to me quite worthy of interest, and that is poor Fulgence, who was + so straightforward and honest, and who is treated so badly. + </p> + <p> + But how deep Victorine was! Even if we admit that she did not deliberately + scheme and plot to get herself married by the son of the family, she did + instinctively all that had to be done for that. She was very deep in an + innocent way, and I have come to the conclusion that such deepness is the + most to be feared. + </p> + <p> + I see quite well all that is lacking in these pieces, and that they are + not very great, but all the same they form a "theatre" apart. There is + unity in this theatrical work of George Sand. Whether it makes a hero of + the natural son, rehabilitates the seduced girl, or cries down the idea of + <i>mesalliances</i>, it is always the same fight in which it is engaged; + it is always fighting against the same enemies, prejudice and + narrow-mindedness. On the stage, we call every opinion contrary to our own + prejudice or narrow-mindedness. The theatre lives by fighting. It matters + little what the author is attacking. He may wage war with principles, + prejudices, giants, or windmills. Provided that there be a battle, there + will be a theatre for it. + </p> + <p> + The fact that George Sand's theatre was the forerunner of the theatre of + Dumas <i>fils</i> gives it additional value. We have already noticed the + analogy of situations and the kinship of theories contained in George + Sand's best plays and in the most noted ones by Dumas. I have no doubt + that Dumas owed a great deal to George Sand. We shall see that he paid his + debt as only he could have done. He knew the novelist when he was quite + young, as Dumas <i>pere</i> and George Sand were on very friendly terms. + In her letter telling Sainte-Beuve not to take Musset to call on her, as + she thought him impertinent, she tells him to bring Dumas <i>pere</i>, + whom she evidently considered well bred. As she was a friend of his + father's, she was like a mother for the son. The first letter to him in + the <i>Correspondance</i> is dated 1850. Dumas <i>fils</i> was then + twenty-six years of age, and she calls him "my son." + </p> + <p> + He had not written <i>La Dame aux Camelias</i> then. It was performed for + the first time in February, 1852. He was merely the author of a few + second-rate novels and of a volume of execrable poetry. He had not found + out his capabilities at that time. There is no doubt that he was greatly + struck by George Sand's plays, imbued as they were with the ideas we have + just pointed out. + </p> + <p> + All this is worthy of note, as it is essential for understanding the work + of Alexandre Dumas <i>fils</i>. He, too, was a natural son, and his + illegitimate birth had caused him much suffering. He was sent to the + Pension Goubaux, and for several years he endured the torture he describes + with such harshness at the beginning of <i>L'Affaire Clemenceau</i>. He + was exposed to all kinds of insults and blows. His first contact with + society taught him that this society was unjust, and that it made the + innocent suffer. The first experience he had was that of the cruelty and + cowardice of men. His mind was deeply impressed by this, and he never lost + the impression. He did not forgive, but made it his mission to denounce + the pharisaical attitude of society. His idea was to treat men according + to their merits, and to pay them back for the blows he had received as a + child.(49) It is easy, therefore, to understand how the private grievances + of Dumas <i>fils</i> had prepared his mind to welcome a theatre which took + the part of the oppressed and waged war with social prejudices. I am fully + aware of the difference in temperament of the two writers. Dumas <i>fils</i>, + with his keen observation, was a pessimist. He despised woman, and he + advises us to kill her, under the pretext that she has always remained + "the strumpet of the land of No." although she may be dressed in a Worth + costume and wear a Reboux hat. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (49) See our study of Dumas <i>fils</i> in a volume entitled <i>Portraits + d'ecrivains.</i> +</pre> + <p> + As a dramatic author, Alexandre Dumas <i>fils</i> had just what George + Sand lacked. He was vigorous, he had the art of brevity and brilliant + dialogue. It is thanks to all this that we have one of the masterpieces of + the French theatre, <i>Le Marquis de Villemer</i>, as a result of their + collaboration. + </p> + <p> + We know from George Sand's letters the share that Dumas <i>fils</i> had in + this work. He helped her to take the play from her novel, and to write the + scenario. After this, when once the play was written, he touched up the + dialogue, putting in more emphasis and brilliancy. It was Dumas, + therefore, who constructed the play. We all know how careless George Sand + was with her composition. She wrote with scarcely any plan in her mind + beforehand, and let herself be carried away by events. Dumas' idea was + that the <i>denouement</i> is a mathematical total, and that before + writing the first word of a piece the author must know the end and have + decided the action. Theatrical managers complained of the sadness of + George Sand's plays. It is to Dumas that we owe the gaiety of the Duc + d'Aleria's <i>role</i>. It is one continual flow of amusing speeches, and + it saves the piece from the danger of falling into tearful drama. George + Sand had no wit, and Dumas <i>fils</i> was full of it. It was he who put + into the dialogue those little sayings which are so easily recognized as + his. + </p> + <p> + "What do the doctors say?" is asked, and the reply comes: + </p> + <p> + "What do the doctors say? Well, they say just what they know: they say + nothing." + </p> + <p> + "My brother declares that the air of Paris is the only air he can + breathe," says another character. + </p> + <p> + "Congratulate him for me on his lungs," remarks his interlocutor. + </p> + <p> + "Her husband was a baron . . ." remarks some one. + </p> + <p> + "Who is not a baron at present?" answers another person. + </p> + <p> + A certain elderly governess is being discussed. + </p> + <p> + "Did you not know her?" + </p> + <p> + "Mademoiselle Artemise? No, monsieur." + </p> + <p> + "Have you ever seen an albatross?" + </p> + <p> + "No, never." + </p> + <p> + "Not even stuffed? Oh, you should go to the Zoo. It is a curious creature, + with its great beak ending in a hook. . . . It eats all day long. . . . + Well, Mademoiselle Artemise, etc. . . ." + </p> + <p> + The <i>Marquis de Villemer</i> is in its place in the series of George + Sand's plays, and is quite in accordance with the general tone of her + theatre. It is like the <i>Mariage de Victorine</i> over again. This time + Victorine is a reader, who gets herself married by a Marquis named Urbain. + He is of a gloomy disposition, so that she will not enjoy his society + much, but she will be a Marquise. Victorine and Caroline are both persons + who know how to make their way in the world. When they have a son, I + should be very much surprised if they allowed him to make a <i>mesalliance</i>. + </p> + <p> + George Sand was one of the persons f or whom Dumas <i>fils</i> had the + greatest admiration. As a proof of this, a voluminous correspondence + between them exists. It has not yet been published, but there is a + possibility that it may be some day. I remember, when talking with Dumas + <i>fils</i>, the terms in which he always spoke of "la mere Sand," as he + called her in a familiar but filial way. He compared her to his father, + and that was great praise indeed from him. He admired in her, too, as he + admired in his father, that wealth of creative power and immense capacity + for uninterrupted work. As a proof of this admiration, we have only to + turn to the preface to <i>Le Fils naturel</i>, in which Dumas is so + furious with the inhabitants of Palaiseau. George Sand had taken up her + abode at Palaiseau, and Dumas had been trying in vain to discover her + address in the district, when he came across one of the natives, who + replied as follows: "George Sand? Wait a minute. Isn't it a lady with + papers?" "So much for the glory," concludes Dumas, "of those of us with + papers." According to him, no woman had ever had more talent or as much + genius. "She thinks like Montaigne," he says, "she dreams like Ossian and + she writes like Jean-Jacques. Leonardo sketches her phrases for her, and + Mozart sings them. Madame de Sevigne kisses her hands, and Madame de Stael + kneels down to her as she passes." We can scarcely imagine Madame de Stael + in this humble posture, but one of the charms of Dumas was his generous + nature, which spared no praise and was lavish in enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + At the epoch at which we have now arrived, George Sand had commenced that + period of tranquillity and calm in which she was to spend the rest of her + life. She had given up politics, for, as we have seen, she was quickly + undeceived with regard to them, and cured of her illusions. When the <i>coup + d'etat</i> of December, 1851, took place, George Sand, who had been + Ledru-Rollin's collaborator and a friend of Barbes, soon made up her mind + what to do. As the daughter of Murat's <i>aide-de-camp</i>, she naturally + had a certain sympathy with the Bonapartists. Napoleon III was a + socialist, so that it was possible to come to an understanding. When the + prince had been a prisoner at Ham, he had sent the novelist his study + entitled <i>L'Extinction du pauperisme</i>. George Sand took advantage of + her former intercourse with him to beg for his indulgrence in favour of + some of her friends. This time she was in her proper <i>role</i>, the <i>role</i> + of a woman. The "tyrant" granted the favours she asked, and George Sand + then came to the conclusion that he was a good sort of tyrant. She was + accused of treason, but she nevertheless continued to speak of him with + gratitude. She remained on good terms with the Imperial family, + particularly with Prince Jerome, as she appreciated his intellect. She + used to talk with him on literary and philosophical questions. She sent + him two tapestry ottomans one year, which she had worked for him. Her son + Maurice went for a cruise to America on Prince Jerome's yacht, and he was + the godfather of George Sand's little grandchildren who were baptized as + Protestants. + </p> + <p> + George Sand deserves special mention for her science in the art of growing + old. It is not a science easy to master, and personally this is one of my + reasons for admiring her. She understood what a charm there is in that + time of life when the voice of the passions is no longer heard, so that we + can listen to the voice of things and examine the lesson of life, that + time when our reason makes us more indulgent, when the sadness of earthly + separations is softened by the thought that we shall soon go ourselves to + join those who have left us. We then begin to have a foretaste of the + calmness of that Great Sleep which is to console us at the end of all our + sufferings and grief. George Sand was fully aware of the change that had + taken place within her. She said, several times over, that the age of + impersonality had arrived for her. She was delighted at having escaped + from herself and at being free from egoism. From henceforth she could give + herself up to the sentiments which, in pedantic and barbarous jargon, are + called altruistic sentiments. By this we mean motherly and grandmotherly + affection, devotion to her family, and enthusiasm for all that is + beautiful and noble. She was delighted when she was told of a generous + deed, and charmed by a book in which she discovered talent. It seemed to + her as though she were in some way joint author of it. + </p> + <p> + "My heart goes out to all that I see dawning or growing . . ." she wrote, + at this time. "When we see or read anything beautiful, does it not seem as + though it belongs to us in a way, that it is neither yours nor mine, but + that it belongs to all who drink from it and are strengthened by it?"(50) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (50) <i>Correspondance:</i> To Octave Feuillet, February 27, 1859. +</pre> + <p> + This is a noble sentiment, and less rare than is generally believed. The + public little thinks that it is one of the great joys of the writer, when + he has reached a certain age, to admire the works of his fellow-writers. + George Sand encouraged her young <i>confreres</i>, Dumas <i>fils</i>, + Feuillet and Flaubert, at the beginning of their career, and helped them + with her advice. + </p> + <p> + We have plenty of information about her at this epoch. Her intimate + friends, inquisitive people and persons passing through Paris, have + described their visits to her over and over again. We have the impressions + noted down by the Goncourt brothers in their <i>Journal</i>. We all know + how much to trust to this diary. Whenever the Goncourts give us an idea, + an opinion, or a doctrine, it is as well to be wary in accepting it. They + were not very intelligent. I do not wish, in saying this, to detract from + them, but merely to define them. On the other hand, what they saw, they + saw thoroughly, and they noted the general look, the attitude or gesture + with great care. + </p> + <p> + We give their impressions of George Sand. In March, 1862, they went to + call on her. She was then living in Paris, in the Rue Racine. They give an + account of this visit in their diary. + </p> + <p> + "<i>March</i> 30, 1862. + </p> + <p> + "On the fourth floor, No. 2, Rue Racine. A little gentleman, very much + like every one else, opened the door to us. He smiled, and said: + 'Messieurs de Goncourt!' and then, opening another door, showed us into a + very large room, a kind of studio. + </p> + <p> + "There was a window at the far end, and the light was getting dim, for it + was about five o'clock. We could see a grey shadow against the pale light. + It was a woman, who did not attempt to rise, but who remained impassive to + our bow and our words. This seated shadow, looking so drowsy, was Madame + Sand, and the man who opened the door was the engraver Manceau. Madame + Sand is like an automatic machine. She talks in a monotonous, mechanical + voice which she neither raises nor lowers, and which is never animated. In + her whole attitude there is a sort of gravity and placidness, something of + the half-asleep air of a person ruminating. She has very slow gestures, + the gestures of a somnambulist. With a mechanical movement she strikes a + wax match, which gives a flicker, and lights the cigar she is holding + between her lips. + </p> + <p> + "Madame Sand was extremely pleasant; she praised us a great deal, but with + a childishness of ideas, a platitude of expression and a mournful + good-naturedness that was as chilling as the bare wall of a room. Manceau + endeavoured to enliven the dialogue. We talked of her theatre at Nohant, + where they act for her and for her maid until four in the morning. . . . + We then talked of her prodigious faculty for work. She told us that there + was nothing meritorious in that, as she had always worked so easily. She + writes every night from one o'clock until four in the morning, and she + writes again for about two hours during the day. Manceau explains + everything, rather like an exhibitor of phenomena. 'It is all the same to + her,' he told us, 'if she is disturbed. Suppose you turn on a tap at your + house, and some one comes in the room. You simply turn the tap off. It is + like that with Madame Sand.'" + </p> + <p> + The Goncourt brothers were extremely clever in detracting from the merits + of the people about whom they spoke. They tell us that George Sand had "a + childishness in her ideas and a platitude of expression." They were unkind + without endeavouring to be so. They ran down people instinctively. They + were eminently literary men. They were also artistic writers, and had even + invented "artistic writing," but they had very little in common with + George Sand's attitude of mind. To her the theory of art for the sake of + art had always seemed a very hollow theory. She wrote as well as she + could, but she never dreamed of the profession of writing having anything + in common with an acrobatic display. + </p> + <p> + In September, 1863, the Goncourt brothers again speak of George Sand, + telling us about her life at Nohant, or rather putting the account they + give into the mouth of Theophile Gautier. He had just returned from + Nohant, and he was asked if it was amusing at George Sand's. + </p> + <p> + "Just as amusing as a monastery of the Moravian brotherhood," he replies. + "I arrived there in the evening, and the house is a long way from the + station. My trunk was put into a thicket, and on arriving I entered by the + farm in the midst of all the dogs, which gave me a fright. . . ." + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact, Gautier's arrival at Nohant had been quite a dramatic + poem, half tragic and half comic. Absolute freedom was the rule of Nohant. + Every one there read, wrote, or went to sleep according to his own will + and pleasure. Gautier arrived in that frame of mind peculiar to the + Parisian of former days. He considered that he had given a proof of + heroism in venturing outside the walls of Paris. He therefore expected a + hearty welcome. He was very much annoyed at his reception, and was about + to start back again immediately, when George Sand was informed of his + arrival. She was extremely vexed at what had happened, and exclaimed, "But + had not any one told him how stupid I am!" + </p> + <p> + The Goncourt brothers asked Gautier what life at Nohant was like. + </p> + <p> + "Luncheon is at ten," he replied, "and when the finger was on the hour, we + all took our seats. Madame Sand arrived, looking like a somnambulist, and + remained half asleep all through the meal. After luncheon we went into the + garden and played at <i>cochonnet</i>. This roused her, and she would then + sit down and begin to talk." + </p> + <p> + It would have been more exact to say that she listened, as she was not a + great talker herself. She had a horror of a certain kind of conversation, + of that futile, paradoxical and spasmodic kind which is the speciality of + "brilliant talkers." Sparkling conversation of this sort disconcerted her + and made her feel ill at ease. She did not like the topic to be the + literary profession either. This exasperated Gautier, who would not admit + of there being anything else in the world but literature. + </p> + <p> + "At three o'clock," he continued, "Madame Sand went away to write until + six. We then dined, but we had to dine quickly, so that Marie Caillot + would have time to dine. Marie Caillot is the servant, a sort of little + Fadette whom Madame Sand had discovered in the neighbourhood for playing + her pieces. This Marie Caillot used to come into the drawing-room in the + evening. After dinner Madame Sand would play patience, without uttering a + word, until midnight. . . . At midnight she began to write again until + four o'clock. . . . You know what happened once. Something monstrous. She + finished a novel at one o'clock in the morning, and began another during + the night. . . . To make copy is a function with Madame Sand." + </p> + <p> + The marionette theatre was one of the Nohant amusements. One of the joys + of the family, and also one of the delights of <i>dilettanti</i>,(51) was + the painting of the scenery, the manufacturing of costumes, the working + out of scenarios, dressing dolls and making them talk. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (51) "The individual named George Sand is very well. He is + enjoying the wonderful winter which reigns in Berry; he + gathers flowers, points out any interesting botanical + anomalies, sews dresses and mantles for his daughter-in-law, + and costumes for the marionettes, cuts out stage scenery, + dresses dolls and reads music. . .."—<i>Correspondance:</i> To + Flaubert, January 17, 1869. +</pre> + <p> + In one of her novels, published in 1857, George Sand introduces to us a + certain Christian Waldo, who has a marionette show. He explains the + attraction of this kind of theatre and the fascination of these <i>burattini</i>, + which were living beings to him. Those among us who, some fifteen years + ago, were infatuated by a similar show, are not surprised at Waldo's + words. The marionettes to which we refer were to be seen in the Passage + Vivienne. Sacred plays in verse were given, and the managers were Monsieur + Richepin and Monsieur Bouchor. For such plays we preferred actors made of + wood to actors of flesh and blood, as there is always a certain + desecration otherwise in acting such pieces. + </p> + <p> + George Sand rarely left Nohant now except for her little flat in Paris. In + the spring of 1855, she went to Rome for a short time, but did not enjoy + this visit much. She sums up her impressions in the following words: "Rome + is a regular see-saw." The ruins did not interest her much. + </p> + <p> + "After spending several days in visiting urns, tombs, crypts and columns, + one feels the need of getting out of all this a little and of seeing + Nature." + </p> + <p> + Nature, however, did not compensate her sufficiently for her + disappointment in the ruins. + </p> + <p> + "The Roman Campagna, which has been so much vaunted, is certainly + singularly immense, but it is so bare, flat and deserted, so monotonous + and sad, miles and miles of meadow-land in every direction, that the + little brain one has left, after seeing the city, is almost overpowered by + it all." + </p> + <p> + This journey inspired her with one of the weakest of her novels, <i>La + Daniella</i>. It is the diary of a painter named Jean Valreg, who married + a laundry-girl. In 1861, after an illness, she went to Tamaris, in the + south of France. This name is the title of one of her novels. She does not + care for this place either. She considers that there is too much wind, too + much dust, and that there are too many olive-trees in the south of France. + </p> + <p> + I am convinced that at an earlier time in her life she would, have been + won over by the fascination of Rome. She had comprehended the charm of + Venice so admirably. At an earlier date, too, she would not have been + indifferent to the beauties of Provence, as she had delighted in + meridional Nature when in Majorca. + </p> + <p> + The years were over, though, for her to enjoy the variety of outside shows + with all their phantasmagoria. A time comes in life, and it had already + come for her, when we discover that Nature, which has seemed so varied, is + the same everywhere, that we have quite near us all that we have been so + far away to seek, a little of this earth, a little water and a little sky. + We find, too, that we have neither the time nor the inclination to go away + in search of all this when our hours are counted and we feel the end near. + The essential thing then is to reserve for ourselves a little space for + our meditations, between the agitations of life and that moment which + alone decides everything for us. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X + </h2> + <h3> + THE GENIUS OF THE WRITER + </h3> + <p> + CORRESPONDENCE WITH FLAUBERT—LAST NOVELS + </p> + <p> + With that maternal instinct which was so strong within her, George Sand + could not do without having a child to scold, direct and take to task. The + one to whom she was to devote the last ten years of her life, who needed + her beneficent affection more than any of those she had adopted, was a + kind of giant with hair turned back from his forehead and a thick + moustache like a Norman of the heroic ages. He was just such a man as we + can imagine the pirates in Duc Rollo's boats. This descendant of the + Vikings had been born in times of peace, and his sole occupation was to + endeavour to form harmonious phrases by avoiding assonances. + </p> + <p> + I do not think there have been two individuals more different from each + other than George Sand and Gustave Flaubert. He was an artist, and she in + many respects was <i>bourgeoise</i>. He saw all things at their worst; she + saw them better than they were. Flaubert wrote to her in surprise as + follows: "In spite of your large sphinx eyes, you have seen the world + through gold colour." + </p> + <p> + She loved the lower classes; he thought them detestable, and qualified + universal suffrage as "a disgrace to the human mind." She preached + concord, the union of classes, whilst he gave his opinion as follows: + </p> + <p> + "I believe that the poor hate the rich, and that the rich are afraid of + the poor. It will be like this eternally." + </p> + <p> + It was always thus. On every subject the opinion of the one was sure to be + the direct opposite of the opinion of the other. This was just what had + attracted them. + </p> + <p> + "I should not be interested in myself," George Sand said, "if I had the + honour of meeting myself." She was interested in Flaubert, as she had + divined that he was her antithesis. + </p> + <p> + "The man who is Just passing," says Fantasio, "is charming. There are all + sorts of ideas in his mind which would be quite new to me." + </p> + <p> + George Sand wanted to know something of these ideas which were new to her. + She admired Flaubert on account of all sorts of qualities which she did + not possess herself. She liked him, too, as she felt that he was unhappy. + </p> + <p> + She went to see him during the summer of 1866. They visited the historic + streets and old parts of Rouen together. She was both charmed and + surprised. She could not believe her eyes, as she had never imagined that + all that existed, and so near Paris, too. She stayed in that house at + Croisset in which Flaubert's whole life was spent. It was a house with + wide windows and a view over the Seine. The hoarse, monotonous sound of + the chain towing the heavy boats along could be heard distinctly within + the rooms. Flaubert lived there with his mother and niece. To George Sand + everything there seemed to breathe of tranquillity and comfort, but at the + same time she brought away with her an impression of sadness. She + attributed this to the vicinity of the Seine, coming and going as it does + according to the bar. + </p> + <p> + "The willows of the islets are always being covered and uncovered," she + writes; "it all looks very cold and sad."(52) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (52) <i>Correspondance:</i> To Maurice Sand, August 10, 1866. +</pre> + <p> + She was not really duped, though, by her own explanation. She knew + perfectly well that what makes a house sad or gay, warm or icy-cold is not + the outlook on to the surrounding country, but the soul of those who + inhabit it and who have fashioned it in their own image. She had just been + staying in the house of the misanthropist. + </p> + <p> + When Moliere put the misanthropist on the stage with his wretched-looking + face, he gave him some of the features which remind us so strongly of + Flaubert. The most ordinary and everyday events were always enough to put + Alceste into a rage. It was just the same with Flaubert. Everyday things + which we are philosophical enough to accept took his breath away. He was + angry, and he wanted to be angry. He was irritated with every one and with + everything, and he cultivated this irritation. He kept himself in a + continual state of exasperation, and this was his normal state. In his + letters he described himself as "worried with life," "disgusted with + everything," "always agitated and always indignant." He spells <i>hhhindignant</i> + with several h's. He signs his letters, "The Reverend Father Cruchard of + the Barnabite Order, director of the Ladies of Disenchantment." Added to + all this, although there may have been a certain amount of pose in his + attitude, he was sincere. He "roared" in his own study, when he was quite + alone and there was no one to be affected by his roaring. He was organized + in a remarkable way for suffering. He was both romantic and realistic, a + keen observer and an imaginative man. He borrowed some of the most pitiful + traits from reality, and recomposed them into a regular nightmare. We + agree with Flaubert that injustice and nonsense do exist in life. But he + gives us Nonsense itself, the seven-headed and ten-horned beast of the + Apocalypse. He sees this beast everywhere, it haunts him and blocks up + every avenue for him, so that he cannot see the sublime beauties of the + creation nor the splendour of human intelligence. + </p> + <p> + In reply to all his wild harangues, George Sand gives wise answers, + smiling as she gives them, and using her common sense with which to + protect herself against the trickery of words. What has he to complain of, + this grown-up child who is too naive and who expects too much? By what + extraordinary misfortune has he such an exceptionally unhappy lot? He is + fairly well off and he has great talent. How many people would envy him! + He complains of life, such as it is for every one, and of the present + conditions of life, which had never been better for any one at any epoch. + What is the use of getting irritated with life, since we do not wish to + die? Humanity seemed despicable to him, and he hated it. Was he not a part + of this humanity himself? Instead of cursing our fellow-men for a whole + crowd of imperfections inherent to their nature, would it not be more just + to pity them for such imperfections? As to stupidity and nonsense, if he + objected to them, it would be better to pay no attention to them, instead + of watching out for them all the time. Beside all this, is there not more + reason than we imagine for every one of us to be indulgent towards the + stupidity of other people? + </p> + <p> + "That poor stupidity of which we hear so much," exclaimed George Sand. "I + do not dislike it, as I look on it with maternal eyes." The human race is + absurd, undoubtedly, but we must own that we contribute ourselves to this + absurdity. + </p> + <p> + There is something morbid in Flaubert's case, and with equal clearness of + vision George Sand points out to him the cause of it and the remedy. The + morbidness is caused in the first place by his loneliness, and by the fact + that he has severed all bonds which united him to the rest of the + universe. Woe be to those who are alone! The remedy is the next + consideration. Is there not, somewhere in the world, a woman whom he could + love and who would make him suffer? Is there not a child somewhere whose + father he could imagine himself to be, and to whom he could devote + himself? Such is the law of life. Existence is intolerable to us as long + as we only ask for our own personal satisfaction, but it becomes dear to + us from the day when we make a present of it to another human being. + </p> + <p> + There was the same antagonism in their literary opinions. Flaubert was an + artist, the theorist of the doctrine of art for art, such as Theophile + Gautier, the Goncourt brothers and the Parnassians comprehended it, at + about the same epoch. It is singularly interesting to hear him formulate + each article of this doctrine, and to hear George Sand's fervent + protestations in reply. Flaubert considers that an author should not put + himself into his work, that he should not write his books with his heart, + and George Sand answers: + </p> + <p> + "I do not understand at all, then. Oh no, it is all incomprehensible to + me." + </p> + <p> + With what was an author to write his books, if not with his own sentiments + and emotions? Was he to write them with the hearts of other people? + Flaubert maintained that an author should only write for about twenty + persons, unless he simply wrote for himself, "like a <i>bourgeois</i> + turning his serviette-rings round in his attic." George Sand was of + opinion that an author should write "for all those who can profit by good + reading." Flaubert confesses that if attention be paid to the old + distinction between matter and form, he should give the greater importance + to form, in which he had a religious belief. He considered that in the + correctness of the putting together, in the rarity of the elements, the + polish of the surface and the perfect harmony of the whole there was an + intrinsic virtue, a kind of divine force. In conclusion, he adds: + </p> + <p> + "I endeavour to think well always, <i>in order to</i> write well, but I do + not conceal the fact that my object is to write well." + </p> + <p> + This, then, was the secret of that working up of the style, until it + became a mania with him and developed into a torture. We all know of the + days of anguish which Flaubert spent in searching for a word that escaped + him, and the weeks that he devoted to rounding off one of his periods. He + would never write these down until he had said them to himself, or, as he + put it himself, until "they had gone through his jaw." He would not allow + two complements in the same phrase, and we are told that he was ill after + reading in one of his own books the following words: "Une couronne <i>de</i> + fleurs <i>d</i>'oranger." + </p> + <p> + "You do not know what it is," he wrote, "to spend a whole day holding + one's head and squeezing one's brains to find a word. Ideas flow with you + freely and continually, like a stream. With me they come like trickling + water, and it is only by a huge work of art that I can get a waterfall. + Ah, I have had some experience of the terrible torture of style!" No, + George Sand certainly had no experience of this kind, and she could not + even conceive of such torture. It amazed her to hear of such painful + labour, for, personally, she let the wind play on her "old harp" just as + it listed. + </p> + <p> + Briefly, she considered that her friend was the victim of a hopeless + error. He took literature for the essential thing, but there was something + before all literature, and that something was life. "The Holy of Holies, + as you call literature, is only secondary to me in life. I have always + loved some one better than it, and my family better than that some one." + </p> + <p> + This, then, was the keynote of the argument. George Sand considered that + life is not only a pretext for literature, but that literature should + always refer to life and should be regulated by life, as by a model which + takes the precedence of it and goes far beyond it. This, too, is our + opinion. + </p> + <p> + The state of mind which can be read between the lines in George Sand's + letters to Flaubert is serenity, and this is also the characteristic of + her work during the last period of her life. Her "last style" is that of + <i>Jean de la Rocke</i>, published in 1860. A young nobleman, Jean de la + Roche, loses his heart to the exquisite Love Butler. She returns his + affection, but the jealousy of a young brother obliges them to separate. + In order to be near the woman he loves, Jean de la Roche disguises himself + as a guide, and accompanies the whole family in an excursion through the + Auvergne mountains. A young nobleman as a guide is by no means an ordinary + thing, but in love affairs such disguises are admitted. Lovers in the + writings of Marivaux took the parts of servants, and in former days no one + was surprised to meet with princes in disguise on the high-roads. + </p> + <p> + George Sand's masterpiece of this kind is undoubtedly <i>Le Marquis de + Villemer</i>, published in 1861. A provincial <i>chateau</i>, an old + aristocratic woman, sceptical and indulgent, two brothers capable of being + rivals without ceasing to be friends, a young girl of noble birth, but + poor, calumny being spread abroad, but quickly repudiated, some wonderful + pages of description, and some elegant, sinuous conversations. All this + has a certain charm. The poor girl marries the Marquis in the end. This, + too, is a return to former days, to the days when kings married + shepherdesses. The pleasure that we have in reading such novels is very + much like that which we used to feel on hearing fairy-stories. + </p> + <p> + "If some one were to tell me the story of <i>Peau d'Ane</i>, I should be + delighted," confessed La Fontaine, and surely it would be bad form to be + more difficult and over-nice than he was. Big children as we are, we need + stories which give food to our imagination, after being disappointed by + the realities of life. This is perhaps the very object of the novel. + Romance is not necessarily an exaggerated aspiration towards imaginary + things. It is something else too. It is the revolt of the soul which is + oppressed by the yoke of Nature. It is the expression of that tendency + within us towards a freedom which is impossible, but of which we + nevertheless dream. An iron law presides over our destiny. Around us and + within us, the series of causes and effects continues to unwind its hard + chain. Every single one of our deeds bears its consequence, and this goes + on to eternity. Every fault of ours will bring its chastisement. Every + weakness will have to be made good. There is not a moment of oblivion, not + an instant when we may cease to be on our guard. Romantic illusion is, + then, just an attempt to escape, at least in imagination, from the tyranny + of universal order. + </p> + <p> + It is impossible, in this volume, to consider all George Sand's works. + Some of her others are charming, but the whole series would perhaps appear + somewhat monotonous. There is, however, one novel of this epoch to which + we must call attention, as it is like a burst of thunder during calm + weather. It also reveals an aspect of George Sand's ideas which should not + be passed over lightly. This book was perhaps the only one George Sand + wrote under the influence of anger. We refer to <i>Mademoiselle La + Quintinie</i>. Octave Feuillet had just published his <i>Histoire de + Sibylle</i>, and this book made George Sand furiously angry. We are at a + loss to comprehend her indignation. Feuillet's novel is very graceful and + quite inoffensive. Sibylle is a fanciful young person, who from her + earliest childhood dreams of impossible things. She wants her grandfather + to get a star for her, and another time she wants to ride on the swan's + back as it swims in the pool. When she is being prepared for her first + communion, she has doubts about the truth of the Christian religion, but + one night, during a storm, the priest of the place springs into a boat and + goes to the rescue of some sailors in peril. All the difficulties of + theological interpretations are at once dispelled for her. A young man + falls in love with her, but on discovering that he is not a believer she + endeavours to convert him, and goes moonlight walks with him. Moonlight is + sometimes dangerous for young girls, and, after one of these sentimental + and theological strolls, she has a mysterious ailment. . . . + </p> + <p> + In order to understand George Sand's anger on reading this novel, which + was both religious and social, and at the same time very harmless, we must + know what her state of mind was on the essential question of religion. + </p> + <p> + In the first place, George Sand was not hostile to religious ideas. She + had a religion. There is a George Sand religion. There are not many + dogmas, and the creed is simple. George Sand believed firmly in the + existence of God. Without the notion of God, nothing can be explained and + no problem solved. This God is not merely the "first cause." It is a + personal and conscious God, whose essential, if not sole, function is to + forgive—every one. + </p> + <p> + "The dogma of hell," she writes, "is a monstrosity, an imposture, a + barbarism. . . . It is impious to doubt God's infinite pity, and to think + that He does not always pardon, even the most guilty of men." This is + certainly the most complete application that has ever been made of the law + of pardon. This God is not the God of Jacob, nor of Pascal, nor even of + Voltaire. He is not an unknown God either. He is the God of Beranger and + of all good people. George Sand believed also, very firmly, in the + immortality of the soul. On losing any of her family, the certainty of + going to them some day was her great consolation. + </p> + <p> + "I see future and eternal life before me as a certainty," she said; "it is + like a light, and, thanks to its brilliancy, other things cannot be seen; + but the light is there, and that is all I need." Her belief was, then, in + the existence of God, the goodness of Providence and the immortality of + the soul. George Sand was an adept in natural religion. + </p> + <p> + She did not accept the idea of any revealed religion, and there was one of + these revealed religions that she execrated. This was the Catholic + religion. Her correspondence on this subject during the period of the + Second Empire is most significant. She was a personal enemy of the Church, + and spoke of the Jesuits as a subscriber to the <i>Siecle</i> might do + to-day. She feared the dagger of the Jesuits for Napoleon III, but at the + same time she hoped there might be a frustrated attempt at murder, so that + his eyes might be opened. The great danger of modern times, according to + her, was the development of the clerical spirit. She was not an advocate + for liberty of education either. "The priestly spirit has been + encouraged," she wrote.(53) "France is overrun with convents, and wretched + friars have been allowed to take possession of education." She considered + that wherever the Church was mistress, it left its marks, which were + unmistakable: stupidity and brutishness. She gave Brittany as an example. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (53) <i>Correspondance:</i> To Barbes, May 12, 1867. +</pre> + <p> + "There is nothing left," she writes, "when the priest and Catholic + vandalism have passed by, destroying the monuments of the old world and + leaving their lice for the future."(54) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (54) <i>Ibid.:</i> To Flaubert, September 21, 1860. +</pre> + <p> + It is no use attempting to ignore the fact. This is anti-clericalism in + all its violence. Is it not curious that this passion, when once it takes + possession of even the most distinguished minds, causes them to lose all + sentiment of measure, of propriety and of dignity. + </p> + <p> + <i>Mademoiselle La Quintinie</i> is the result of a fit of anti-clerical + mania. George Sand gives, in this novel, the counterpart of <i>Sibylle</i>. + Emile Lemontier, a free-thinker, is in love with the daughter of General + La Quintinie. Emile is troubled in his mind because, as his <i>fiancee</i> + is a Catholic, he knows she will have to have a confessor. The idea is + intolerable to him, as, like Monsieur Homais, he considers that a husband + could not endure the idea of his wife having private conversations with + one of those individuals. Mademoiselle La Quintinie's confessor is a + certain Moreali, a near relative of Eugene Sue's Rodin. The whole novel + turns on the struggle between Emile and Moreali, which ends in the final + discomfiture of Moreali. Mademoiselle La Quintinie is to marry Emile, who + will teach her to be a free-thinker. Emile is proud of his work of drawing + a soul away from Christian communion. He considers that the light of + reason is always sufficient for illuminating the path in a woman's life. + He thinks that her natural rectitude will prove sufficient for making a + good woman of her. I do not wish to call this into question, but even if + she should not err, is it not possible that she may suffer? This + free-thinker imagines that it is possible to tear belief from a heart + without rending it and causing an incurable wound. Oh, what a poor + psychologist! He forgets that beliefs the summing up and the continuation + of the belief of a whole series of generations. He does not hear the + distant murmur of the prayers of by-gone years. It is in vain to endeavour + to stifle those prayers; they will be heard for ever within the crushed + and desolate soul. + </p> + <p> + <i>Mademoiselle La Quintinie</i> is a work of hatred. George Sand was not + successful with it. She had no vocation for writing such books, and she + was not accustomed to writing them. It is a novel full of tiresome + dissertations, and it is extremely dull. + </p> + <p> + From that date, though, George Sand experienced the joy of a certain + popularity. At theatrical performances and at funerals the students + manifested in her honour. It was the same for Sainte-Beuve, but this does + not seem to have made either of them any greater. + </p> + <p> + We will pass over all this, and turn to something that we can admire. The + robust and triumphant old age of George Sand was admirable. Nearly every + year she went to some fresh place in France to find a setting for her + stories. She had to earn her living to the very last, and was doomed to + write novels for ever. "I shall be turning my wheel when I die," she used + to say, and, after all, this is the proper ending for a literary worker. + </p> + <p> + In 1870 and 1871, she suffered all the anguish of the "Terrible Year." + When once the nightmare was over, she set to work once more like a true + daughter of courageous France, unwilling to give in. She was as hardy as + iron as she grew old. "I walk to the river," she wrote in 1872, "and bathe + in the cold water, warm as I am. . . . I am of the same nature as the + grass in the field. Sunshine and water are all I need." + </p> + <p> + For a woman of sixty-eight to be able to bathe every day in the cold water + of the Indre is a great deal. In May, 1876, she was not well, and had to + stay in bed. She was ill for ten days, and died without suffering much. + She is buried at Nohant, according to her wishes, so that her last sleep + is in her beloved Berry. + </p> + <p> + In conclusion, we would say just a few words about George Sand's genius, + and the place that she takes in the history of the French novel. + </p> + <p> + On comparing George Sand with the novelists of her time, what strikes us + most is how different she was from them. She is neither like Balzac, + Stendhal, nor Merimee, nor any story-teller of our thoughtful, clever and + refined epoch. She reminds us more of the "old novelists," of those who + told stories of chivalrous deeds and of old legends, or, to go still + further back, she reminds us of the <i>aedes</i> of old Greece. In the + early days of a nation there were always men who went to the crowd and + charmed them with the stories they told in a wordy way. They scarcely knew + whether they invented these stories as they told them, or whether they had + heard them somewhere. They could not tell either which was fiction and + which reality, for all reality seemed wonderful to them. All the people + about whom they told were great, all objects were good and everything + beautiful. They mingled nursery-tales with myths that were quite sensible, + and the history of nations with children's stories. They were called + poets. + </p> + <p> + George Sand did not employ a versified form for her stories, but she + belonged to the family of these poets. She was a poet herself who had lost + her way and come into our century of prose, and she continued her singing. + </p> + <p> + Like these early poets, she was primitive. Like them, she obeyed a god + within her. All her talent was instinctive, and she had all the ease of + instinctive talent. When Flaubert complained to George Sand of the + "tortures" that style cost him, she endeavoured to admire him. + </p> + <p> + "When I see the difficulty that my old friend has in writing his novel, I + am discouraged about my own case, and I say to myself that I am writing + poor sort of literature." + </p> + <p> + This was merely her charity, for she never understood that there could be + any effort in writing. Consequently she could not understand that it + should cause suffering. For her, writing was a pleasure, as it was the + satisfaction of a need. As her works were no effort to her, they left no + trace in her memory. She had not intended to write them, and, when once + written, she forgot them. + </p> + <p> + "<i>Consuelo and La Comtesse de Rudolstadt</i>, what are these books?" she + asks. "Did I write them? I do not remember a single word of them." + </p> + <p> + Her novels were like fruit, which, when ripe, fell away from her. George + Sand always returned to the celebration of certain great themes which are + the eternal subjects of all poetry, subjects such as love and nature, and + sentiments like enthusiasm and pity. The very language completes the + illusion. The choice of words was often far from perfect, as George Sand's + vocabulary was often uncertain, and her expression lacked precision and + relief. But she had the gift of imagery, and her images were always + delightfully fresh. She never lost that rare faculty which she possessed + of being surprised at things, so that she looked at everything with + youthful eyes. There is a certain movement which carries the reader on, + and a rhythm that is soothing. She develops the French phrase slowly + perhaps, but without any confusion. Her language is like those rivers + which flow along full and limpid, between flowery banks and oases of + verdure, rivers by the side of which the traveller loves to linger and to + lose himself in dreams. + </p> + <p> + The share which belongs to George Sand in the history of the French novel + is that of having impregnated the novel with the poetry in her own soul. + She gave to the novel a breadth and a range which it had never hitherto + had. She celebrated the hymn of Nature, of love and of goodness in it. She + revealed to us the country and the peasants of France. She gave + satisfaction to the romantic tendency which is in every one of us, to a + more or less degree. + </p> + <p> + All this is more even than is needed to ensure her fame. She denied ever + having written for posterity, and she predicted that in fifty years she + would be forgotten. It may be that there has been for her, as there is for + every illustrious author who dies, a time of test and a period of neglect. + The triumph of naturalism, by influencing taste for a time, may have + stopped our reading George Sand. At present we are just as tired of + documentary literature as we are disgusted with brutal literature. We are + gradually coming back to a better comprehension of what there is of + "truth" in George Sand's conception of the novel. This may be summed up in + a few words—to charm, to touch and to console. Those of us who know + something of life may perhaps wonder whether to console may not be the + final aim of literature. George Sand's literary ideal may be read in the + following words, which she wrote to Flaubert: + </p> + <p> + "You make the people who read your books still sadder than they were + before. I want to make them less unhappy." She tried to do this, and she + often succeeded in her attempt. What greater praise can we give to her + than that? And how can we help adding a little gratitude and affection to + our admiration for the woman who was the good fairy of the contemporary + novel? + </p> + <p> + THE END <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of George Sand, Some Aspects of Her Life +and Writings, by Rene Doumic + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GEORGE SAND, SOME ASPECTS OF *** + +***** This file should be named 138-h.htm or 138-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/138/ + +Produced by Charles E. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: George Sand, Some Aspects of Her Life and Writings + +Author: Rene Doumic + +Translator: Alys Hallard + +Release Date: March 11, 2006 [EBook #138] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GEORGE SAND, SOME ASPECTS OF *** + + + + +Produced by Charles E. Keller and David Widger + + + + + +GEORGE SAND + +Some Aspects of Her Life and Writings + +by Rene Doumic + +Translated by Alys Hallard + + + + +First published in 1910. This volume is dedicated to Madame L. Landouzy +with gratitude and affection + + +This book is not intended as a study of George Sand. It is merely a +series of chapters touching on various aspects of her life and writings. +My work will not be lost if the perusal of these pages should inspire +one of the historians of our literature with the idea of devoting to the +great novelist, to her genius and her influence, a work of this kind. + + + + +CONTENTS + + I AURORE DUPIN + II BARONNE DUDEVANT + III A FEMINIST OF 1832 + IV THE ROMANTIC ESCAPADE + V THE FRIEND OF MICHEL (DE BOURGES) + VI A CASE OF MATERNAL AFFECTION IN LOVE + VII THE HUMANITARIAN DREAM + VIII 1848 + IX THE 'BONNE DAME' OF NOHANT + X THE GENIUS OF THE WRITER + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + GEORGE SAND (From a photogravure by N. Desmardyl, after a Painting + by A. Charpentier) + GEORGE SAND (From an engraving by L. Calamatia) + JULES SANDEAU (From an etching by M. Desboutins) + ALFRED DE MUSSET (From a lithograph) + FACSIMILE OF AN AUTOGRAPH LETTER OF GEORGE SAND (Written from + Venice to Hipp. Chatiron) + GEORGE SAND (From a lithograph) + F. CHOPIN (From a photograph) + PIERRE LEROUX (From a lithograph by A. Collette) + GEORGE SAND (From a lithograph) + + + +GEORGE SAND + + + + +I + +AURORE DUPIN + +PSYCHOLOGY OF A DAUGHTER OF ROUSSEAU + + +In the whole of French literary history, there is, perhaps, no subject +of such inexhaustible and modern interest as that of George Sand. Of +what use is literary history? It is not only a kind of museum, in which +a few masterpieces are preserved for the pleasure of beholders. It is +this certainly, but it is still more than this. Fine books are, before +anything else, living works. They not only have lived, but they continue +to live. They live within us, underneath those ideas which form our +conscience and those sentiments which inspire our actions. There is +nothing of greater importance for any society than to make an inventory +of the ideas and the sentiments which are composing its moral atmosphere +every instant that it exists. For every individual this work is the very +condition of his dignity. The question is, should we have these ideas +and these sentiments, if, in the times before us, there had not been +some exceptional individuals who seized them, as it were, in the air and +made them viable and durable? These exceptional individuals were capable +of thinking more vigorously, of feeling more deeply, and of expressing +themselves more forcibly than we are. They bequeathed these ideas +and sentiments to us. Literary history is, then, above and beyond all +things, the perpetual examination of the conscience of humanity. + +There is no need for me to repeat what every one knows, the fact that +our epoch is extremely complex, agitated and disturbed. In the midst of +this labyrinth in which we are feeling our way with such difficulty, who +does not look back regretfully to the days when life was more simple, +when it was possible to walk towards a goal, mysterious and unknown +though it might be, by straight paths and royal routes? + +George Sand wrote for nearly half a century. For fifty times three +hundred and sixty-five days, she never let a day pass by without +covering more pages than other writers in a month. Her first books +shocked people, her early opinions were greeted with storms. From that +time forth she rushed head-long into everything new, she welcomed +every chimera and passed it on to us with more force and passion in it. +Vibrating with every breath, electrified by every storm, she looked up +at every cloud behind which she fancied she saw a star shining. The work +of another novelist has been called a repertory of human documents. But +what a repertory of ideas her work was! She has said what she had to say +on nearly every subject; on love, the family, social institutions and on +the various forms of government. And with all this she was a woman. +Her case is almost unique in the history of letters. It is intensely +interesting to study the influence of this woman of genius on the +evolution of modern thought. + +I shall endeavour to approach my subject conscientiously and with all +due respect. I shall study biography where it is indispensable for the +complete understanding of works. I shall give a sketch of the original +individuals I meet on my path, portraying these only at their point +of contact with the life of our authoress, and it seems to me that +a gallery in which we see Sandeau, Sainte-Beuve, Musset, Michel (of +Bourges), Liszt, Chopin, Lamennais, Pierre Leroux, Dumas _fils_, +Flaubert and many, many others is an incomparable portrait gallery. I +shall not attack persons, but I shall discuss ideas and, when necessary, +dispute them energetically. We shall, I hope, during our voyage, see +many perspectives open out before us. + +I have, of course, made use of all the works devoted to George Sand +which were of any value for my study, and among others of the two +volumes published, under the name of Wladimir Karenine,(1) by a woman +belonging to Russian aristocratic society. For the period before +1840, this is the most complete work that has been written. M. Samuel +Rocheblave, a clever University professor and the man who knows more +than any one about the life and works of George Sand, has been my guide +and has helped me greatly with his wise advice. Private collections +of documents have also been placed at my service most generously. I am +therefore able to supply some hitherto unpublished writings. George Sand +published, in all, about a hundred volumes of novels and stories, four +volumes of autobiography, and six of correspondence. In spite of all +this we are still asked for fresh documents. + + (1) WLADIMIR KARENINE: _George Sand, Sa vie et ses + oeuvres._ 2 Vols. Ollendorf. + +It is interesting, as a preliminary study, to note the natural gifts, +and the first impressions of Aurore Dupin as a child and young girl, and +to see how these predetermined the woman and the writer known to us as +George Sand. + +Lucile-Amandine-Aurore Dupin, legitimate daughter of Maurice Dupin and +of Sophie-Victoire Delaborde, was born in Paris, at 15 Rue Meslay, in +the neighbourhood of the Temple, on the 1st of July, 1804. I would call +attention at once to the special phenomenon which explains the problem +of her destiny: I mean by this her heredity, or rather the radical and +violent contrast of her maternal and paternal heredity. + +By her father she was an aristocrat and related to the reigning houses. + +Her ancestor was the King of Poland, Augustus II, the lover of the +beautiful Countess Aurora von Koenigsmarck. George Sand's grandfather +was Maurice de Saxe. He may have been an adventurer and a _condottiere_, +but France owes to him Fontenoy, that brilliant page of her history. +All this takes us back to the eighteenth century with its brilliant, +gallant, frivolous, artistic and profligate episodes. Maurice de Saxe +adored the theatre, either for itself or for the sake of the women +connected with it. On his campaign, he took with him a theatrical +company which gave a representation the evening before a battle. In this +company was a young artiste named Mlle. de Verrieres whose father was +a certain M. Rinteau. Maurice de Saxe admired the young actress and a +daughter was born of this _liaison_, who was later on recognized by +her father and named Marie-Aurore de Saxe. This was George Sand's +grandmother. At the age of fifteen the young girl married Comte de Horn, +a bastard son of Louis XV. This husband was obliging enough to his wife, +who was only his wife in name, to die as soon as possible. She then +returned to her mother "the Opera lady." An elderly nobleman, Dupin de +Francueil, who had been the lover of the other Mlle. Verrieres, now +fell in love with her and married her. Their son, Maurice Dupin, was +the father of our novelist. The astonishing part of this series +of adventures is that Marie-Aurore should have been the eminently +respectable woman that she was. On her mother's side, though, Aurore +Dupin belonged to the people. She was the daughter of Sophie-Victoire +Delaborde milliner, the grandchild of a certain bird-seller on the +Quai des Oiseaux, who used to keep a public-house, and she was the +great-granddaughter of Mere Cloquart. + +This double heredity was personified in the two women who shared George +Sand's childish affection. We must therefore study the portraits of +these two women. + +The grandmother was, if not a typical _grande dame_, at least a typical +elegant woman of the latter half of the eighteenth century. She was very +well educated and refined, thanks to living with the two sisters, Mlles. +Verrieres, who were accustomed to the best society. She was a good +musician and sang delightfully. When she married Dupin de Francueil, her +husband was sixty-two, just double her age. But, as she used to say +to her granddaughter, "no one was ever old in those days. It was the +Revolution that brought old age into the world." + +Dupin was a very agreeable man. When younger he had been _too_ +agreeable, but now he was just sufficiently so to make his wife very +happy. He was very lavish in his expenditure and lived like a prince, +so that he left Marie-Aurore ruined and poor with about three thousand a +year. She was imbued with the ideas of the philosophers and an enemy of +the Queen's _coterie_. She was by no means alarmed at the Revolution and +was very soon taken prisoner. She was arrested on the 26th of November, +1793, and incarcerated in the _Couvent des Anglaises_, Rue des +Fosse's-Saint-Victor, which had been converted into a detention house. +On leaving prison she settled down at Nohant, an estate she had recently +bought. It was there that her granddaughter remembered her in her early +days. She describes her as tall, slender, fair and always very calm. At +Nohant she had only her maids and her books for company. When in Paris, +she delighted in the society of people of her own station and of her +time, people who had the ideas and airs of former days. She continued, +in this new century, the shades of thought and the manners and Customs +of the old _regime._ + +As a set-off to this woman of race and of culture, Aurore's mother +represented the ordinary type of the woman of the people. She was small, +dark, fiery and violent. She, too, the bird-seller's daughter, had been +imprisoned by the Revolution, and strangely enough in the _Couvent des +Anglaises_ at about the same time as Maurice de Saxe's granddaughter. +It was in this way that the fusion of classes was understood under the +Terror. She was employed as a _figurante_ in a small theatre. This was +merely a commencement for her career. At the time when Maurice Dupin met +her, she was the mistress of an old general. She already had one child +of doubtful parentage. Maurice Dupin, too, had a natural son, named +Hippolyte, so that they could not reproach each other. When Maurice +Dupin married Sophie-Victoire, a month before the birth of Aurore, he +had some difficulty in obtaining his mother's consent. She finally +gave in, as she was of an indulgent nature. It is possible that +Sophie-Victoire's conduct was irreproachable during her husband's +lifetime, but, after his death, she returned to her former ways. She was +nevertheless of religious habits and would not, upon any account, have +missed attending Mass. She was quick-tempered, jealous and noisy and, +when anything annoyed her, extremely hot-headed. At such times she would +shout and storm, so that the only way to silence her was to shout still +more loudly. She never bore any malice, though, and wished no harm +to those she had insulted. She was of course sentimental, but more +passionate than tender, and she quickly forgot those whom she had loved +most fondly. There seemed to be gaps in her memory and also in her +conscience. She was ignorant, knowing nothing either of literature or of +the usages of society. Her _salon_ was the landing of her flat and her +acquaintances were the neighbours who happened to live next door to her. +It is easy to imagine what she thought of the aristocrats who visited +her mother-in-law. She was amusing when she joked and made parodies +on the women she styled "the old Countesses." She had a great deal of +natural wit, a liveliness peculiar to the native of the faubourgs, all +the impudence of the street arab, and a veritable talent of mimicry. +She was a good housewife, active, industrious and most clever in turning +everything to account. With a mere nothing she could improvise a dress +or a hat and give it a certain style. She was always most skilful with +her fingers, a typical Parisian work-girl, a daughter of the street and +a child of the people. In our times she would be styled "a midinette." + +Such are the two women who shared the affection of Aurore Dupin. Fate +had brought them together, but had made them so unlike that they were +bound to dislike each other. The childhood of little Aurore served as +the lists for their contentions. Their rivalry was the dominating note +in the sentimental education of the child. + +As long as Maurice Dupin lived, Aurore was always with her parents in +their little Parisian dwelling. Maurice Dupin was a brilliant officer, +and very brave and jovial. In 1808, Aurore went to him in Madrid, where +he was Murat's _aide-de-camp_. She lived in the palace of the Prince +of Peace, that vast palace which Murat filled with the splendour of his +costumes and the groans caused by his suffering. Like Victor Hugo, +who went to the same place at about the same time and under similar +conditions, Aurore may have brought back with her: + + _de ses courses lointaines_ + _Comme un vaguefaisceau de lueurs incertaines._ + +This does not seem probable, though. The return was painful, as they +came back worried and ill, and were glad to take refuge at Nohant. +They were just beginning to organize their life when Maurice Dupin died +suddenly, from an accident when riding, leaving his mother and his wife +together. + +From this time forth, Aurore was more often with her grandmother at +Nohant than with her mother in Paris. Her grandmother undertook the care +of her education. Her half-brother, Hippolyte Chatiron, and she received +lessons from M. Deschartres, who had educated Maurice Dupin. He was +steward and tutor combined, a very authoritative man, arrogant and a +great pedant. He was affectionate, though, and extremely devoted. He +was both detestable and touching at the same time, and had a warm heart +hidden under a rough exterior. Nohant was in the heart of Berry, and +this meant the country and Nature. For Aurore Dupin Nature proved to be +an incomparable educator. + +There was only one marked trait in the child's character up to this +date, and that was a great tendency to reverie. For long hours she would +remain alone, motionless, gazing into space. People were anxious about +her when they saw her looking so _stupid_, but her mother invariably +said: "Do not be alarmed. She is always ruminating about something." +Country life, while providing her with fresh air and plenty of exercise, +so that her health was magnificent, gave fresh food and another turn to +her reveries. Ten years earlier Alphonse de Lamartine had been sent +to the country at Milly, and allowed to frequent the little peasant +children of the place. Aurore Dupin's existence was now very much the +same as that of Lamartine. Nohant is situated in the centre of the Black +Valley. The ground is dark and rich; there are narrow, shady paths. It +is not a hilly country, and there are wide, peaceful horizons. At all +hours of the day and at all seasons of the year, Aurore wandered along +the Berry roads with her little playfellows, the farmers' children. +There was Marie who tended the flock, Solange who collected leaves, and +Liset and Plaisir who minded the pigs. She always knew in what meadow or +in what place she would find them. She played with them amongst the hay, +climbed the trees and dabbled in the water. She minded the flock with +them, and in winter, when the herdsmen talked together, assembled round +their fire, she listened to their wonderful stories. These credulous +country children had "seen with their own eyes" Georgeon, the evil +spirit of the Black Valley. They had also seen will-o'-the-wisps, +ghosts, the "white greyhound" and the "Big Beast"! In the evenings, she +sat up listening to the stories told by the hemp-weaver. Her fresh +young soul was thus impregnated at an early age with the poetry of the +country. And it was all the poetry of the country, that which comes from +things, such as the freshness of the air and the perfume of the flowers, +but also that which is to be found in the simplicity of sentiments and +in that candour and surprise face to face with those sights of Nature +which have remained the same and have been just as incomprehensible ever +since the beginning of the world. + +The antagonism of the two mothers increased, though. We will not go into +detail with regard to the various episodes, but will only consider the +consequences. + +The first consequence was that the intelligence of the child became more +keen through this duality. Placed as she was, in these two different +worlds, between two persons with minds so unlike, and, obliged as she +was to go from one to the other, she learnt to understand and appreciate +them both, contrasts though they were. She had soon reckoned each of +them up, and she saw their weaknesses, their faults, their merits and +their advantages. + +A second consequence was to increase her sensitiveness. Each time that +she left her mother, the separation was heartrending. When she was +absent from her, she suffered on account of this absence, and still more +because she fancied that she would be forgotten. She loved her mother, +just as she was, and the idea that any one was hostile or despised her +caused the child much silent suffering. It was as though she had an +ever-open wound. + +Another consequence, and by no means the least important one, was to +determine in a certain sense the immense power of sympathy within her. +For a long time she only felt a sort of awe, when with her reserved and +ceremonious grandmother. She felt nearer to her mother, as there was +no need to be on ceremony with her. She took a dislike to all those who +represented authority, rules and the tyranny of custom. She considered +her mother and herself as oppressed individuals. A love for the people +sprang up in the heart of the daughter of Sophie-Victoire. She belonged +to them through her mother, and she was drawn to them now through the +humiliations she underwent. In this little enemy of reverences and of +society people, we see the dawn of that instinct which, later on, was to +cause her to revolt openly. George Sand was quite right in saying, +later on, that it was of no use seeking any intellectual reason as the +explanation of her social preferences. Everything in her was due to +sentiment. Her socialism was entirely the outcome of her suffering and +torments as a child. + +Things had to come to a crisis, and the crisis was atrocious. George +Sand gives an account of the tragic scene in her _Histoire de ma vie_. +Her grandmother had already had one attack of paralysis. She was anxious +about Aurore's future, and wished to keep her from the influence of her +mother. She therefore decided to employ violent means to this end. She +sent for the child to her bedside, and, almost beside herself, in a +choking voice, she revealed to her all that she ought to have concealed. +She told her of Sophie-Victoire's past, she uttered the fatal word +and spoke of the child's mother as a lost woman. With Aurore's extreme +sensitiveness, it was horrible to receive such confidences at the age of +thirteen. Thirty years later, George Sand describes the anguish of the +terrible minute. "It was a nightmare," she says. "I felt choked, and it +was as though every word would kill me. The perspiration came out on my +face. I wanted to interrupt her, to get up and rush away. I did not want +to hear the frightful accusation. I could not move, though; I seemed to +be nailed on my knees, and my head seemed to be bowed down by that voice +that I heard above me, a voice which seemed to wither me like a storm +wind." + +It seems extraordinary that a woman, who was in reality so kind-hearted +and so wise, should have allowed herself to be carried away like this. +Passion has these sudden and unexpected outbursts, and we see here a +most significant proof of the atmosphere of passion in which the child +had lived, and which gradually insinuated itself within her. + +Under these circumstances, Aurore's departure for the convent was a +deliverance. Until just recently, there has always been a convent in +vogue in France in which it has been considered necessary for girls in +good society to be educated. In 1817, _the Couvent des Anglaises_ was in +vogue, the very convent which had served as a prison for the mother +and grandmother of Aurore. The three years she spent there in that "big +feminine family, where every one was as kind as God," she considered the +most peaceful and happy time of her life. The pages she devotes to them +in her _Histoire de ma vie_ have all the freshness of an oasis. +She describes most lovingly this little world, apart, exclusive and +self-sufficing, in which life was so intense. + +The house consisted of a number of constructions, and was situated +in the neighbourhood given up to convents. There were courtyards and +gardens enough to make it seem like a small village. There was also +a labyrinth of passages above and underground, just as in one of +Anne Radcliffe's novels. There were old walls overgrown with vine and +jasmine. The cock could be heard at midnight, just as in the heart of +the country, and there was a bell with a silvery tone like a woman's +voice. From her little cell, Aurore looked over the tops of the great +chestnut trees on to Paris, so that the air so necessary for the lungs +of a child accustomed to wanderings in the country was not lacking +in her convent home. The pupils had divided themselves into three +categories: the _diables_, the good girls, who were the specially +pious ones, and the silly ones. Aurore took her place at once among +the _diables_. The great exploit of these convent girls consisted in +descending into the cellars, during recreation, and in sounding the +walls, in order to "deliver the victim." There was supposed to be an +unfortunate victim imprisoned and tortured by the good, kindhearted +Sisters. Alas! all the _diables_ sworn to the task in the _Couvent des +Anglaises_ never succeeded in finding the victim, so that she must be +there still. + +Very soon, though, a sudden change-took place in Aurore's soul. It +would have been strange had it been otherwise. With so extraordinarily +sensitive an organization, the new and totally different surroundings +could not fail to make an impression. The cloister, the cemetery, the +long services, the words of the ritual, murmured in the dimly-lighted +chapel, and the piety that seems to hover in the air in houses where +many prayers have been offered up--all this acted on the young girl. One +evening in August, she had gone into the church, which was dimly lighted +by the sanctuary lamp. Through the open window came the perfume of +honeysuckle and the songs of the birds. There was a charm, a mystery +and a solemn calm about everything, such as she had never before +experienced. "I do not know what was taking place within me," she said, +when describing this, later on, "but I breathed an atmosphere that was +indescribably delicious, and I seemed to be breathing it in my very +soul. Suddenly, I felt a shock through all my being, a dizziness came +over me, and I seemed to be enveloped in a white light. I thought I +heard a voice murmuring in my ear: _'Tolle Lege.'_ I turned round, and +saw that I was quite alone. . . ." + +Our modern _psychiatres_ would say that she had had an hallucination of +hearing, together with olfactory trouble. I prefer saying that she +had received the visit of grace. Tears of joy bathed her face and she +remained there, sobbing for a long time. + +The convent had therefore opened to Aurore another world of sentiment, +that of Christian emotion. Her soul was naturally religious, and the +dryness of a philosophical education had not been sufficient for it. The +convent had now brought her the aliment for which she had instinctively +longed. Later on, when her faith, which had never been very enlightened, +left her, the sentiment remained. This religiosity, of Christian form, +was essential to George Sand. + +The convent also rendered her another eminent service. In the _Histoire +de ma vie_, George Sand retraces from memory the portraits of several of +the Sisters. She tells us of Madame Marie-Xavier, and of her despair +at having taken the vows; of Sister Anne-Joseph, who was as kind as an +angel and as silly as a goose; of the gentle Marie-Alicia, whose +serene soul looked out of her blue eyes, a mirror of purity, and of the +mystical Sister Helene, who had left home in spite of her family, in +spite of the supplications and the sobs of her mother and sisters, and +who had passed over the body of a child on her way to God. It is like +this always. The costumes are the same, the hands are clasped in the +same manner, the white bands and the faces look equally pale, but +underneath this apparent uniformity what contrasts! It is the inner life +which marks the differences so vigorously, and shows up the originality +of each one. Aurore gradually discovered the diversity of all these +souls and the beauty of each one. She thought of becoming a nun, but +her confessor did not advise this, and he was certainly wise. Her +grandmother, who had a philosopher's opinion of priests, blamed their +fanaticism, and took her little granddaughter away from the convent. +Perhaps she felt the need of affection for the few months she had still +to live. At any rate, she certainly had this affection. One of the first +results of the larger perspicacity which Aurore had acquired at the +convent was to make her understand her grandmother at last. She was able +now to grasp the complex nature of her relative and to see the delicacy +hidden under an appearance of great reserve. She knew now all that +she owed to her grandmother, but unfortunately it was one of those +discoveries which are made too late. + +The eighteen months which Aurore now passed at Nohant, until the death +of her grandmother, are very important as regards her psychological +biography. She was seventeen years old, and a girl who was eager to live +and very emotional. She had first been a child of Nature. Her convent +life had taken her away from Nature and accustomed her to falling back +on her own thoughts. Nature now took her back once more, and her beloved +Nohant feted her return. + +"The trees were in flower," she says, "the nightingales were singing, +and, in the distance, I could hear the classic, solemn sound of the +labourers. My old friends, the big dogs, who had growled at me the +evening before, recognized me again and were profuse in their caresses. +. . ." + +She wanted to see everything again. The things themselves had not +changed, but her way of looking at them now was different. During her +long, solitary walks every morning, she enjoyed seeing the various +landscapes, sometimes melancholy-looking and sometimes delightful. She +enjoyed, too, the picturesqueness of the various things she met, the +flocks of cattle, the birds taking their flight, and even the sound of +the horses' feet splashing in the water. She enjoyed everything, in +a kind of voluptuous reverie which was no longer instinctive, but +conscious and a trifle morbid. + +Added to all this, her reading at this epoch was without any order or +method. She read everything voraciously, mixing all the philosophers +up together. She read Locke, Condillac, Montesquieu, Bossuet, Pascal, +Montaigne, but she kept Rousseau apart from the others. She devoured +the books of the moralists and poets, La Bruyere, Pope, Milton, Dante, +Virgil, Shakespeare. All this reading was too much for her and excited +her brain. She had reserved Chateaubriand's _Rene_, and, on reading +that, she was overcome by the sadness which emanates from these +distressing pages. She was disgusted with life, and attempted to commit +suicide. She tried to drown herself, and only owed her life to the +healthy-mindedness of the good mare Colette, as the horse evidently had +not the same reasons as its young mistress for wishing to put an end to +its days. + +All this time Aurore was entirely free to please herself. Deschartres, +who had always treated her as a boy, encouraged her independence. It +was at his instigation that she dressed in masculine attire to go out +shooting. People began to talk about her "eccentricities" at Landerneau, +and the gossip continued as far as La Chatre. Added to this, +Aurore began to study osteology with a young man who lived in the +neighbourhood, and it was said that this young man, Stephane Ajasson de +Grandsaigne, gave her lessons in her own room. This was the climax. + +We have a curious testimony as regards the state of the young girl's +mind at this epoch. A review, entitled _Le Voile de pourpre_, published +recently, in its first number, a letter from Aurore to her mother, dated +November 18, 1821. Her mother had evidently written to her on hearing +the gossip about her, and had probably enlarged upon it. + +"You reproach me, mother, with neither having timidity, modesty, +nor charm," she writes, "or at least you suppose that I have these +qualities, but that I refrain from showing them, and you are quite +certain that I have no outward decency nor decorum. You ought to know me +before judging me in this way. You would then be able to form an opinion +about my conduct. Grandmother is here, and, ill though she is, she +watches over me carefully and lovingly, and she would not fail to +correct me if she considered that I had the manners of a dragoon or of a +hussar." + +She considered that she had no need of any one to guide or protect her, +and no need of leading-strings. + +"I am seventeen," she says, "and I know my way about." + +If this Monsieur de Grandsaigne had ventured to take any liberty with +her, she was old enough to take care of herself. + +Her mother had blamed her for learning Latin and osteology. "Why should +a woman be ignorant?" she asks. "Can she not be well educated without +this spoiling her and without being pedantic? Supposing that I should +have sons in the future, and that I had profited sufficiently by my +studies to be able to teach them, would not a mother's lessons be as +good as a tutor's?" + +She was already challenging public opinion, starting a campaign against +false prejudices, showing a tendency to generalize, and to make the +cause of one woman the cause of all women. + +We must now bear in mind the various traits we have discovered, one +after another, in Aurore's character. We must remember to what parentage +she owed her intellectuality and her sentimentality. It will then +be more easy to understand the terms she uses when describing her +fascination for Rousseau's writings. + +"The language of Jean-Jacques and the form of his deductions impressed +me as music might have done when heard in brilliant sunshine. I compared +him to Mozart, and I understood everything." + +She understood him, for she recognized herself in him. She sympathized +with that predominance of feeling and imagination, that exaggeration of +sentiment, that preference for life according to Nature, that emotion +on beholding the various sights of the country, that distrust of people, +those effusions of religious sentimentality, those solitary reveries, +and that melancholy which made death seem desirable to him. All this +was to Aurore Dupin the gospel according to Rousseau. The whole of her +psychology is to be found here. + +She was an exceptional being undoubtedly; but in order to be a genial +exception one must have within oneself, and then personify with great +intensity all the inspirations which, at a certain moment, are dispersed +in the atmosphere. Ever since the great agitation which had shaken +the moral world by Rousseau's preaching, there had been various vague +currents and a whole crowd of confused aspirations floating about. +It was this enormous wave that entered a feminine soul. Unconsciously +Aurore Dupin welcomed the new ideal, and it was this ideal which was +to operate within her. The question was, what would she do with it, +in presence of life with all its everyday and social realities. This +question is the object of our study. In the solution of it lies the +interest, the drama and the lesson of George Sand's destiny. + + + + +II + +BARONNE DUDEVANT MARRIAGE AND FREEDOM--THE ARRIVAL IN PARIS--JULES +SANDEAU + +We must now endeavour to discover what the future George Sand's +experiences of marriage were, and the result of these experiences on the +formation of her ideas. + +"You will lose your best friend in me," were the last words of the +grandmother to her granddaughter on her death-bed. The old lady spoke +truly, and Aurore was very soon to prove this. By a clause in her will, +Madame Dupin de Francueil left the guardianship of Aurore to a cousin, +Rene de Villeneuve. It was scarcely likely, though, that Sophie-Victoire +should consent to her own rights being frustrated by this illegal +clause, particularly as this man belonged to the world of the "old +Countesses." She took her daughter with her to Paris. Unfortunately for +her, Aurore's eyes were now open, and she was cultured enough to have +been in entire sympathy with her exquisite grandmother. It was no longer +possible for her to have the old passionate affection and indulgence for +her mother, especially as she felt that she had hitherto been deserted +by her. She saw her mother now just as she was, a light woman belonging +to the people, a woman who could not resign herself to growing old. If +only Sophie-Victoire had been of a tranquil disposition! She was most +restless, on the contrary, wanting to change her abode and change her +restaurant every day. She would quarrel with people one day, make it up +the next; wear a different-shaped hat every day, and change the colour +of her hair continually. She was always in a state of agitation. She +loved police news and thrilling stories; read the _Sherlock Holmes_ of +those days until the middle of the night. She dreamed of such stories, +and the following day went on living in an atmosphere of crime. When +she had an attack of indigestion, she always imagined that she had been +poisoned. When a visitor arrived, she thought it must be a burglar. +She was most sarcastic about Aurore's "fine education" and her literary +aspirations. Her hatred of the dead grandmother was as strong as ever. +She was constantly insulting her memory, and in her fits of anger said +unheard-of things. Aurore's silence was her only reply to these storms, +and this exasperated her mother. She declared that she would correct her +daughter's "sly ways." Aurore began to wonder with terror whether her +mother's mind were not beginning to give way. The situation finally +became intolerable. + +Sophie-Victoire took her daughter to spend two or three days with some +friends of hers, and then left her there. They lived in the country at +Plessis-Picard, near Melun. Aurore was delighted to find a vast park +with thickets in which there were roebucks bounding about. She loved +the deep glades and the water with the green reflections of old willow +trees. Monsieur James Duplessis and his wife, Angele, were excellent +people, and they adopted Aurore for the time being. They already had +five daughters, so that one more did not make much difference. They +frequented a few families in the neighbourhood, and there was plenty of +gaiety among the young people. The Duplessis took Aurore sometimes to +Paris and to the theatre. + +"One evening," we are told in the _Histoire de ma vie_, "we were having +some ices at Tortoni's after the theatre, when suddenly my mother Angele +said to her husband, 'Why, there's Casimir!' A young man, slender and +rather elegant, with a gay expression and a military look, came and +shook hands, and answered all the questions he was asked about his +father, Colonel Dudevant, who was evidently very much respected and +loved by the family." + +This was the first meeting, the first appearance of Casimir in the +story, and this was how he entered into the life of Aurore. + +He was invited to Plessis, he joined the young people good-humouredly in +their games, was friendly with Aurore, and, without posing as a suitor, +asked for her hand in marriage. There was no reason for her to refuse +him. He was twenty-seven years of age, had served two years in the army, +and had studied law in Paris. He was a natural son, of course, but he +had been recognized by his father, Colonel Dudevant. The Dudevant family +was greatly respected. They had a _chateau_ at Guillery in Gascony. +Casimir had been well brought up and had good manners. Aurore might as +well marry him as any other young man. It would even be preferable to +marry him rather than another young man. He was already her friend, and +he would then be her husband. That would not make much difference. + +The marriage almost fell through, thanks to Sophie-Victoire. She did +not consider Casimir good-looking enough. She was not thinking of her +daughter, but of herself. She had made up her mind to have a handsome +son-in-law with whom she could go out. She liked handsome men, and +particularly military men. Finally she consented to the marriage, but, a +fortnight before the ceremony, she arrived at Plessis, like a veritable +thunderbolt. An extraordinary idea had occurred to her. She vowed that +she had discovered that Casimir had been a waiter at a _cafe_. She had +no doubt dreamt this, but she held to her text, and was indignant at the +idea of her daughter marrying a waiter! . . . + +Things had arrived at this crisis when Casimir's mother, Madame +Dudevant, who had all the manners of a _grande dame_, decided to pay +Sophie-Victoire an official visit. The latter was greatly flattered, +for she liked plenty of attention paid to her. It was in this way that +Aurore Dupin became Baronne Dudevant. + + +She was just eighteen years of age. It is interesting to read her +description of herself at this time. In her _Voyage en Auvergne_, which +was her first writing, dated 1827, she traces the following portrait, +which certainly is not exaggerated. + +"When I was sixteen," she says, "and left the convent, every one could +see that I was a pretty girl. I was fresh-looking, though dark. I was +like those wild flowers which grow without any art or culture, but with +gay, lively colouring. I had plenty of hair, which was almost black. On +looking at myself in the glass, though, I can truthfully say that I was +not very well pleased with myself. I was dark, my features were well +cut, but not finished. People said that it was the expression of my face +that made it interesting. I think this was true. I was gay but dreamy, +and my most natural expression was a meditative one. People said, too, +that in this absent-minded expression there was a fixed look which +resembled that of the serpent when fascinating his prey. That, at any +rate, was the far-fetched comparison of my provincial adorers." + +They were not very far wrong, these provincial adorers. The portraits +of Aurore at this date show us a charming face of a young girl, +as fresh-looking as a child. She has rather long features, with a +delicately-shaped chin. She is not exactly pretty, but fascinating, with +those great dark eyes, which were her prominent feature, eyes which, +when fixed on any one, took complete possession of them--dreamy, +passionate eyes, sombre because the soul reflected in them had profound +depths. + +It is difficult to define that soul, for it was so complex. To judge by +appearances, it was a very peaceful soul, and perhaps, too, it was in +reality peaceful. George Sand, who knew herself thoroughly, frequently +spoke of her laziness and of her apathy, traits peculiar to the natives +of Berry. Superficial observers looked no further, and her mother used +to call her "St. Tranquillity." The nuns, though, of her convent had +more perspicacity. They said, when speaking of her: "Still waters run +deep." Under the smooth surface they fancied that storms were gathering. +Aurore had within her something of her mother and of her grandmother, +and their opposite natures were blended in her. She had the calmness of +Marie-Aurore, but she also had the impetuousness of Sophie-Victoire, +and undoubtedly, too, something of the free and easy good humour of her +father, the break-neck young officer. It certainly is not surprising to +find a love of adventure in a descendant of Maurice de Saxe. + +Beside all these inner contrasts, the observer was particularly struck +by her sudden changes of humour, by the way in which, after a fit of +melancholy sadness, she suddenly gave way to the most exuberant gaiety, +followed by long fits of depression and nervous exhaustion. Personally, +I do not believe much in the influence of the physical over the moral +nature, but I am fully convinced of the action of the moral over +the physical nature. In certain cases and in presence of extremely +accentuated conditions, physiological explanations must be taken into +account. All these fits of melancholy and weeping, this prostration, +these high spirits and the long walks, in order to sober down, denote +the exigencies of an abnormal temperament. When once the crisis was +passed, it must not be supposed that, as with many other people, nothing +remained of it all. This was by no means the case, as in a nature so +extraordinarily organized for storing up sensations nothing was lost, +nothing evaporated, and everything increased. The still water seemed +to be slumbering. Its violence, though held in check, was increasing in +force, and when once let loose, it would carry all before it. + +Such was the woman whom Casimir Dudevant was to marry. The fascination +was great; the honour rather to be feared, for all depended on his skill +in guiding this powerful energy. + +The question is whether he loved her. It has been said that it was a +marriage of interest, as Aurore's fortune amounted to twenty thousand +pounds, and he was by no means rich. This may have been so, but there is +no reason why money should destroy one's sentiments, and the fact that +Aurore had money was not likely to prevent Casimir from appreciating +the charms of a pretty girl. It seems, therefore, very probable that he +loved his young wife, at any rate as much as this Casimir was capable of +loving his wife. + +The next question is whether she loved him. It has been said that she +did, simply because she declared that she did not. When, later on, after +her separation, she spoke of her marriage, all her later grievances were +probably in her mind. There are her earlier letters, though, which some +people consider a proof that she cared for Casimir, and there are also a +few words jotted down in her notebook. When her husband was absent, she +was anxious about him and feared that he had met with an accident. +It would be strange indeed if a girl of eighteen did not feel some +affection for the man who had been the first to make love to her, a man +whom she had married of her own free-will. It is rare for a woman to +feel no kind of attachment for her husband, but is that attachment love? +When a young wife complains of her husband, we hear in her reproaches +the protest of her offended dignity, of her humbled pride. When a woman +loves her husband, though, she does not reproach him, guilty though he +may be, with having humiliated and wounded her. What she has against him +then, is that he has broken her heart by his lack of love for her. This +note and this accent can never be mistaken, and never once do we find +it with Aurore. We may therefore conclude that she had never loved her +husband. + +Casimir did not know how to win her affection. He did not even realize +that he needed to win it. He was very much like all men. The idea never +occurs to them that, when once they are married, they have to win their +wife. + +He was very much like all men. . . . That is the most faithful portrait +that can be traced of Casimir at this epoch. He had not as yet the vices +which developed in him later on. He had nothing to distinguish him from +the average man. He was selfish, without being disagreeable, rather +idle, rather incapable, rather vain and rather foolish. He was just +an ordinary man. The wife he had married, though, was not an ordinary +woman. That was their misfortune. As Emile Faguet has very wittily put +it, "Monsieur Dudevant, about whom she complained so much, seems to have +had no other fault than that of being merely an ordinary man, which, of +course, is unendurable to a superior woman. The situation was perhaps +equally unendurable for the man." This is quite right, for Casimir was +very soon considerably disconcerted. He was incapable of understanding +her psychology, and, as it seemed impossible to him that a woman was +not his inferior, he came to the logical conclusion that his wife was +"idiotic." This was precisely his expression, and at every opportunity +he endeavoured to crush her by his own superiority. All this seems to +throw some light on his character and also on the situation. Here was +a man who had married the future George Sand, and he complained, in all +good faith, that his wife was "idiotic"! + +Certainly, on comparing the _Correspondance_ with the _Histoire de ma +vie_, the difference of tone is most striking. The letters in +which Baronne Dudevant tells, day by day, of her home life are too +enthusiastic for the letters of an unhappy wife. There are receptions at +Nohant, lively dinners, singing and dancing. All this is, at any rate, +the surface, but gradually the misunderstandings are more pronounced, +and the gulf widens. + +There may have been a misunderstanding at the very beginning of their +married life, and Aurore may have had a surprise of the nature of the +one to which Jane de Simerose confesses in _L'Ami des femmes_. In an +unpublished letter written much later on, in the year 1843, from George +Sand to her half-brother Hippolyte Chatiron on the occasion of his +daughter's engagement, the following lines occur: "See that your +son-in-law is not brutal to your daughter the first night of their +marriage. . . . Men have no idea that this amusement of theirs is a +martyrdom for us. Tell him to sacrifice his own pleasure a little, and +to wait until he has taught his wife gradually to understand things +and to be willing. There is nothing so frightful as the horror, the +suffering and the disgust of a poor girl who knows nothing and who is +suddenly violated by a brute. We bring girls up as much as possible like +saints, and then we hand them over like fillies. If your son-in-law +is an intelligent man and if he really loves your daughter, he will +understand his _role_, and will not take it amiss that you should speak +to him beforehand."(2) + + (2) Communicated by M. S. Rocheblave. + +Is George Sand recalling here any hidden and painful memories? Casimir +had, at bottom, a certain brutality, which, later on, was very evident. +The question is whether he had shown proofs of it at a time when it +would have been wiser to have refrained. + +However that may be, the fundamental disagreement of their natures was +not long in making itself felt between the husband and wife. He was +matter-of-fact, and she was romantic; he only believed in facts, and +she in ideas; he was of the earth, earthy, whilst she aspired to the +impossible. They had nothing to say to each other, and when two people +have nothing to say, and love does not fill up the silences, what +torture the daily _tete-a-tete_ must be. Before they had been married +two years, they were bored to death. They blamed Nohant, but the fault +was in themselves. Nohant seemed unbearable to them, simply because they +were there alone with each other. They went to Plessis, perhaps in the +hope that the remembrance of the days of their engagement might have +some effect on them. It was there, in 1824, that the famous scene of the +blow took place. They were playing at a regular children's game in the +park, and throwing sand at each other. Casimir lost his patience and +struck his wife. It was certainly impolite, but Aurore did not appear +to have been very indignant with her husband at the time. Her grievances +were quite of another kind, less tangible and much more deeply felt. + +From Plessis they went to Ormesson. We do not know what took place +there, but evidently something which made a deep impression morally, +something very serious. A few years later, referring to this stay at +Ormesson, George Sand wrote to one of her friends: "You pass by a wall +and come to a house. . . . If you are allowed to enter you will find a +delightful English garden, at the bottom of which is a spring of water +hidden under a kind of grotto. It is all very stiff and uninteresting, +but it is very lonely. I spent several months there, and it was there +that I lost my health, my confidence in the future, my gaiety and my +happiness. It was there that I felt, and very deeply too, my first +approach of trouble. . . ."(3) + + (3) Extract from the unpublished letters of George Sand to + Dr. Emile Regnault. + +They left Ormesson for Paris, and Paris for Nohant, and after that, by +way of trying to shake off the dulness that was oppressing them, they +had recourse to the classical mode of diversion--a voyage. + + +They set off on the 5th of July, 1825, for that famous expedition to the +Pyrenees, which was to be so important a landmark in Aurore Dudevant's +history. On crossing the Pyrenees, the scenery, so new to her--or +rather the memory of which had been lying dormant in her mind since +her childhood--filled her with wild enthusiasm. This intense emotion +contributed to develop within her that sense of the picturesque which, +later on, was to add so considerably to her talent as a writer. She had +hitherto been living in the country of plains, the Ile-de-France and +Berry. The contrast made her realize all the beauties of nature, and, +on her return, she probably understood her own familiar scenery, and +enjoyed it all the more. She had hitherto appreciated it vaguely. +Lamartine learnt to love the severe scenery of Milly better on returning +to it after the softness of Italy. + +The Pyrenees served, too, for Baronne Dudevant as the setting for an +episode which was unique in her sentimental life. + +In the _Histoire de ma vie_ there is an enigmatical page in which George +Sand has intentionally measured and veiled every expression. She speaks +of her moral solitude, which, at that time, was profound and absolute, +and she adds: "It would have been mortal to a tender mind and to a girl +in the flower of her youth, if it had not been filled with a dream which +had taken the importance of a great passion, not in my life, as I had +sacrificed my life to duty, but in my thoughts. I was in continual +correspondence with an absent person to whom I told all my thoughts, all +my dreams, who knew all my humble virtues, and who heard all my platonic +enthusiasm. This person was excellent in reality, but I attributed to +him more than all the perfections possible to human nature. I only saw +this man for a few days, and sometimes only for a few hours, in the +course of a year. He was as romantic, in his intercourse with me, as I +was. Consequently he did not cause me any scruples, either of religion +or of conscience. This man was the stay and consolation of my exile, +as regards the world of reality." It was this dream, as intense as any +passion, that we must study here. We must make the acquaintance of this +excellent and romantic man. + +Aurelien de Seze was a young magistrate, a few years older than Aurore. +He was twenty-six years of age and she was twenty-one. He was the +great-nephew of the counsel who pleaded for Louis XVI. There was, +therefore, in his family a tradition of moral nobility, and the young +man had inherited this. He had met Aurore at Bordeaux and again at +Cauterets. They had visited the grottoes of Lourdes together. Aurelien +had appreciated the young wife's charm, although she had not attempted +to attract his attention, as she was not coquettish. She appreciated in +him--all that was so lacking in Casimir--culture of mind, seriousness of +character, discreet manners which people took at first for coldness, and +a somewhat dignified elegance. He was scrupulously honest, a magistrate +of the old school, sure of his principles and master of himself. It was, +probably, just that which appealed to the young wife, who was a true +woman and who had always wished to be dominated. When they met again at +Breda, they had an explanation. This was the "violent grief" of which +George Sand speaks. She was consoled by a friend, Zoe Leroy, who found +a way of calming this stormy soul. She came through this crisis crushed +with emotion and fatigue, but calm and joyful. They had vowed to love +each other, but to remain without reproach, and their vow was faithfully +kept. + +Aurore, therefore, had nothing with which to reproach herself, but with +her innate need of being frank, she considered it her duty to write a +letter to her husband, informing him of everything. This was the +famous letter of November 8, 1825. Later on, in 1836, when her case for +separation from her husband was being heard, a few fragments of it were +read by her husband's advocate with the idea of incriminating her. By +way of reply to this, George Sand's advocate read the entire letter in +all its eloquence and generosity. It was greeted by bursts of applause +from the audience. + +All this is very satisfactory. It is exactly the situation of the +Princess of Cleves in Madame de Lafayette's novel. The Princess of +Cleves acknowledges to her husband the love she cannot help feeling for +Monsieur de Nemours, and asks for his help and advice as her natural +protector. This fine proceeding is usually admired, although it cost +the life of the Prince of Cleves, who died broken-hearted. Personally, I +admire it too, although at times I wonder whether we ought not rather +to see in it an unconscious suggestion of perversity. This confession of +love to the person who is being, as it were, robbed of that love, is in +itself a kind of secret pleasure. By speaking of the love, it becomes +more real, we bring it out to light instead of letting it die away in +those hidden depths within us, in which so many of the vague sentiments +which we have not cared to define, even to ourselves, die away. Many +women have preferred this more silent way, in which they alone have been +the sufferers. But such women are not the heroines of novels. No one has +appreciated their sacrifice, and they themselves could scarcely tell all +that it has cost them. + +Aurelien de Seze had taken upon himself the _role_ of confidant to this +soul that he had allotted to himself. He took his _role_ very seriously, +as was his custom in all things. He became the young wife's director in +all matters of conscience. The letters which he wrote to her have +been preserved, and we know them by the extracts and the analysis that +Monsieur Rocheblave has given us and by his incisive commentaries of +them.(4) They are letters of guidance, spiritual letters. The laic +confessor endeavours, before all things, to calm the impatience of this +soul which is more and more ardent and more and more troubled every day. +He battles with her about her mania of philosophizing, her wish to sift +everything and to get to the bottom of everything. Strong in his own +calmness, he kept repeating to her in a hundred different ways the +words: "Be calm!" The advice was good; the only difficulty was the +following of the advice. + + (4) "George Sand avant George Sand," by S. Rocheblave + (_Revue de Paris_, December 15, 1894). + +Gradually the professor lost his hold on his pupil, for it seems as +though Aurore were the first to tire. Aurelien finally began to doubt +the efficacy of his preaching. The usual fate of sentiments outside +the common order of things is that they last the length of time that a +crisis of enthusiasm lasts. The best thing that can happen then is that +their nature should not change, that they should not deteriorate, as is +so often the case. When they remain intact to the end, they leave behind +them, in the soul, a trail of light, a trail of cold, pure light. + +The decline of this platonic _liaison_ with Aurelien de Seze dates from +1828. Some grave events were taking place at Nohant about this time. For +the last few years Casimir had fallen into the vices of certain country +squires, or so-called gentlemen farmers. He had taken to drink, in +company with Hippolyte Chatiron, and it seems that the intoxication +peculiar to the natives of Berry takes a heavy and not a gay form. He +had also taken to other bad habits, away from home at first, and +later on under the conjugal roof. He was particularly partial to +the maid-servants, and, the day following the birth of her daughter, +Solange, Aurore had an unpleasant surprise with regard to her husband. +From that day forth, what had hitherto been only a vague wish on her +part became a fixed idea with her, and she began to form plans. A +certain incident served as a pretext. When putting some papers in order, +Aurore came upon her husband's will. It was a mere diatribe, in which +the future "deceased" gave utterance to all his past grievances against +his _idiotic_ wife. Her mind was made up irrevocably from this moment. +She would have her freedom again; she would go to Paris and spend three +months out of six there. She had a young tutor from the south of France, +named Boucoiran, educating her children. This Boucoiran needed to be +taken to task constantly, and Baronne Dudevant did not spare him.(5) + + (5) An instance of her disposition for lecturing will be + seen in the following curious letter sent by George Sand to + her friend and neighbour, Adolphe Duplomb. This letter has + never been published before, and we owe our thanks for it to + Monsieur Charles Duplomb. + + _Nohant, July_ 23,1830. + + "Are you so very much afraid of me, my poor Hydrogene? You + expect a good lecture and you will not expect in vain. Have + patience, though. Before giving you the dressing you + deserve, I want to tell you that I have not forgotten you, + and that I was very vexed on returning from Paris, to find + my great simpleton of a son gone. I am so used to seeing + your solemn face that I quite miss it. You have a great many + faults, but after all, you are a good sort, and in time you + will get reasonable. Try to remember occasionally, my dear + Plombeus, that you have friends. If I were your only + friend, that would be a great deal, as I am to be depended + on, and am always at my post as a friend, although I may not + be very tender. I am not very polite either, as I speak the + truth plainly. That is my characteristic, though. I am a + firm friend nevertheless, and to be depended on. Do not + forget what I have said now, as I shall not often repeat + this. Remember, too, that happiness in this world depends + on the interest and esteem that we inspire. I do not say + this to every one, as it would be impossible, but just to a + certain number of friends. It is impossible to find one's + happiness entirely in one's self, without being an egoist, + and I do not think so badly of you that I imagine you to be + one. A man whom no one cares for is wretched, and the man + who has friends is afraid of grieving them by behaving + badly. As Polyte says, all this is for the sake of letting + you know that you must do your best to behave well, if you + want to prove to me that you are not ungrateful for my + interest in you. You ought to get rid of the bad habit of + boasting that you have adopted through frequenting young men + as foolish as yourself. Do whatever your position and your + health allow you to do, provided that you do not compromise + the honour or the reputation of any one else. I do not see + that a young man is called upon to be as chaste as a nun. + But keep your good or bad luck in your love affairs to + yourself. Silly talk is always repeated, and it may chance + to get to the ears of sensible people who will disapprove. + Try, too, not to make so many plans, but to carry out just + one or two of them. You know that is why I quarrel with you + always. I should like to see more constancy in you. You + tell Hippolyte that you are very willing and courageous. As + to physical courage, of the kind that consists in enduring + illness and in not fearing death, I dare say you have that, + but I doubt very much whether you have the courage necessary + for sustained work, unless you have very much altered. + Everything fresh delights you, but after a little time you + only see the inconveniences of your position. You will + scarcely find anything without something that is annoying + and troublesome, but if you cannot learn to put up with + things you will never be a man. + + "This is the end of my sermon. I expect you have had enough + of it, especially as you are not accustomed to reading my + bad handwriting. I shall be glad to hear from you, but do + not consider your letter as a State affair, and do not + torment yourself to arrange well-turned phrases. I do not + care for such phrases at all. A letter is always good enough + when the writer expresses himself naturally, and says what + he thinks. Fine pages are all very well for the + schoolmaster, but I do not appreciate them at all. Promise + me to be reasonable, and to think of my sermons now and + then. That is all I ask. You may be very sure that if it + were not for my friendship for you I should not take the + trouble to lecture you. I should be afraid of annoying you + if it were not for that. As it is, I am sure that you are + not displeased to have my lectures, and that you understand + the feeling which dictates them. + + "Adieu, my dear Adolphe. Write to me often and tell me + always about your affairs. Take care of yourself, and try + to keep well; but if you should feel ill come back to your + native place. There will always be milk and syrup for you, + and you know that I am not a bad nurse. Every one wishes to + be remembered to you, and I send you my holy blessing. + + "AURORE D----" + +She considered him idle, and reproached him with his lack of dignity and +with making himself too familiar with his inferiors. She could not admit +this familiarity, although she was certainly a friend of the people +and of the peasants. Between sympathy and familiarity there was a +distinction, and Aurore took care not to forget this. There was always +something of the _grande dame_ in her. Boucoiran was devoted, though, +and she counted on him for looking after her children, for keeping +her strictly _au courant_, and letting her know in case of illness. +Perfectly easy on this score, she could live in Paris on an income of +sixty pounds by adding to it what she could earn. + +Casimir made no objections. All that happened later on in this +existence, which was from henceforth so stormy, happened with his +knowledge and with his consent. He was a poor sort of man. + +Let us consider now, for a moment, Baronne Dudevant's impressions after +such a marriage. We will not speak of her sadness nor of her disgust. In +a union of this kind, how could the sacred and beneficial character +of marriage have appeared to her? A husband should be a companion. +She never knew the charm of true intimacy, nor the delight of thoughts +shared with another. A husband is the counsellor, the friend. When she +needed counsel, she was obliged to go elsewhere for it, and it was from +another man that guidance and encouragement came. A husband should be +the head and, I do not hesitate to say, the master. Life is a ceaseless +struggle, and the man who has taken upon himself the task of defending a +family from all the dangers which threaten its dissolution, from all the +enemies which prowl around it, can only succeed in his task of protector +if he be invested with just authority. Aurore had been treated brutally: +that is not the same thing as being dominated. The sensation which never +left her was that of an immense moral solitude. She could no longer +dream in the Nohant avenues, for the old trees had been lopped, and the +mystery chased away. She shut herself up in her grandmother's little +boudoir, adjoining her children's room, so that she could hear them +breathing, and whilst Casimir and Hippolyte were getting abominably +intoxicated, she sat there thinking things over, and gradually becoming +so irritated that she felt the rebellion within her gathering force. The +matrimonial bond was a heavy yoke to her. A Christian wife would +have submitted to it and accepted it, but the Christianity of Baronne +Dudevant was nothing but religiosity. The trials of life show up the +insufficiency of religious sentiment which is not accompanied by faith. +Marriage, without love, friendship, confidence and respect, was for +Aurore merely a prison. She endeavoured to escape from it, and when she +succeeded she uttered a sigh of relief at her deliverance. + +Such, then, is the chapter of marriage in Baronne Dudevant's psychology. +It is a fine example of failure. The woman who had married badly now +remained an individual, instead of harmonizing and blending in a general +whole. This ill-assorted union merely accentuated and strengthened +George Sand's individualism. + +Aurore Dudevant arrived in Paris the first week of the year 1831. The +woman who was rebellious to marriage was now in a city which had just +had a revolution. + +The extraordinary effervescence of Paris in 1831 can readily be +imagined. There was tempest in the air, and this tempest was bound to +break out here or there, either immediately or in the near future, in an +insurrection. Every one was feverishly anxious to destroy everything, in +order to create all things anew. In everything, in art, ideas and even +in costume, there was the same explosion of indiscipline, the same +triumph of capriciousness. Every day some fresh system of government was +born, some new method of philosophy, an infallible receipt for bringing +about universal happiness, an unheard-of idea for manufacturing +masterpieces, some invention for dressing up and having a perpetual +carnival in the streets. The insurrection was permanent and masquerade +a normal state. Besides all this, there was a magnificent burst of youth +and genius. Victor Hugo, proud of having fought the battle of _Hernani_, +was then thinking of _Notre-Dame_ and climbing up to it. Musset had just +given his _Contes d'Espagne el d'Italie_. Stendhal had published _Le +Rouge et le Noir_, and Balzac _La Peau de Chagrin_. The painters of the +day were Delacroix and Delaroche. Paganini was about to give his +first concert at the Opera. Such was Paris in all its impatience and +impertinence, in its confusion and its splendour immediately after the +Revolution. + +The young wife, who had snapped her bonds asunder, breathed voluptuously +in this atmosphere. She was like a provincial woman enjoying Paris to +the full. She belonged to the romantic school, and was imbued with the +principle that an artist must see everything, know everything, and have +experienced himself all that he puts into his books. She found a little +group of her friends from Berry in Paris, among others Felix Pyat, +Charles Duvernet, Alphonse Fleury, Sandeau and de Latouche. This was +the band she frequented, young men apprenticed either to literature, +the law, or medicine. With them she lived a student's life. In order to +facilitate her various evolutions, she adopted masculine dress. In her +_Histoite de ma vie_ she says: "Fashion helped me in my disguise, for +men were wearing long, square frock-coats styled a _la proprietaire_. +They came down to the heels, and fitted the figure so little that my +brother, when putting his on, said to me one day at Nohant: 'It is a +nice cut, isn't it? The tailor takes his measures from a sentry-box, and +the coat then fits a whole regiment.' I had 'a sentry-box coat' made, of +rough grey cloth, with trousers and waistcoat to match. With a grey +hat and a huge cravat of woollen material, I looked exactly like a +first-year student. . . ." + +Dressed in this style, she explored the streets, museums, cathedrals, +libraries, painters' studios, clubs and theatres. She heard Frederick +Lemaitre one day, and the next day Malibran. One evening it was one of +Dumas' pieces, and the next night _Moise_ at the Opera. She took her +meals at a little restaurant, and she lived in an attic. She was not +even sure of being able to pay her tailor, so she had all the joys +possible. "Ah, how delightful, to live an artist's life! Our device is +liberty!" she wrote.(6) She lived in a perpetual state of delight, +and, in February, wrote to her son Maurice as follows: "Every one is at +loggerheads, we are crushed to death in the streets, the churches are +being destroyed, and we hear the drum being beaten all night."(7) In +March she wrote to Charles Duvernet: "Do you know that fine things are +happening here? It really is amusing to see. We are living just as gaily +among bayonets and riots as if everything were at peace. All this amuses +me."(8) + + (6) _Correspondance_: To Boucoiran, March 4, 1831. + + (7) _Ibid_. To Maurice Dudevant, February 15, 1831. + + (8) _Ibid_. To Charles Duvernet, March 6, 1831. + +She was amused at everything and she enjoyed everything. With her keen +sensitiveness, she revelled in the charm of Paris, and she thoroughly +appreciated its scenery. + +"Paris," she wrote, "with its vaporous evenings, its pink clouds above +the roofs, and the beautiful willows of such a delicate green around +the bronze statue of our old Henry, and then, too, the dear little +slate-coloured pigeons that make their nests in the old masks of the +Pont Neuf . . ."(9) + + (9) Unpublished letters of Dr. Emile Regnault. + +She loved the Paris sky, so strange-looking, so rich in colouring, so +variable.(10) + + (10) _Ibid_. + +She became unjust with regard to Berry. "As for that part of the world +which I used to love so dearly and where I used to dream my dreams," she +wrote, "I was there at the age of fifteen, when I was very foolish, and +at the age of seventeen, when I was dreamy and disturbed in my mind. It +has lost its charm for me now."(11) + + (11) _Ibid_. + +She loved it again later on, certainly, but just at this time she was +over-excited with the joy of her newly-found liberty. It was that really +which made her so joyful and which intoxicated her. "I do not want +society, excitement, theatres, or dress; what I want is freedom," +she wrote to her mother. In another letter she says: "I am absolutely +independent. I go to La Chatre, to Rome. I start out at ten o'clock or +at midnight. I please myself entirely in all this."(12) + + (12) _Correspondance_: To her mother, May 31, 1831. + +She was free, and she fancied she was happy. Her happiness at that epoch +meant Jules Sandeau. + +In a letter, written in the humoristic style in which she delighted, she +gives us portraits of some of her comrades of that time. She tells us of +Duvernet, of Alphonse Fleury, surnamed "the Gaulois," and of Sandeau. + +"Oh, fair-haired Charles!" she writes, "young man of melancholy +thoughts, with a character as gloomy as a stormy day. . . . And you, +gigantic Fleury, with your immense hands and your alarming beard. . . . +And you, dear Sandeau, agreeable and light, like the humming bird of +fragrant savannahs!"(13) + + (13) _Correspondance_: December 1, 1830. + +The "dear Sandeau, agreeable and light, like the humming bird of +fragrant savannahs," was to be Baronne Dudevant's Latin Quarter +_liaison_. Her biographers usually pass over this _liaison_ quickly, +as information about it was not forthcoming. Important documents exist, +though, in the form of fifty letters written by George Sand to Dr. Emile +Regnault, then a medical student and the intimate friend and confidant +of Jules Sandeau, who kept nothing back from him. His son, Dr. Paul +Regnault, has kindly allowed me to see this correspondence and to +reproduce some fragments of it. It is extremely curious, by turn lyrical +and playful, full of effusions, ideas, plans of work, impressions of +nature, and confidences about her love affairs. Taken altogether it +reflects, as nearly as possible, the state of the young woman's mind at +this time. + +The first letter is dated April, 1831. George Sand had left Paris for +Nohant, and is anxiously wondering how her poor Jules has passed this +wretched day, and how he will go back to the room from which she had +torn herself with such difficulty that morning. In her letter she gives +utterance to the gratitude she owes to the young man who has reconciled +her once more to life. "My soul," she says, "eager itself for +affection, needed to inspire this in a heart capable of understanding +me thoroughly, with all my faults and qualities. A fervent soul was +necessary for loving me in the way that I could love, and for consoling +me after all the ingratitude which had made my earlier life so desolate. +And although I am now old, I have found a heart as young as my own, a +lifelong affection which nothing can discourage and which grows stronger +every day. Jules has taught me to care once more for this existence, +of which I was so weary, and which I only endured for the sake of my +children. I was disgusted beforehand with the future, but it now seems +more beautiful to me, full as it appears to me of him, of his work, his +success, and of his upright, modest conduct. . . . Oh, if you only knew +how I love him! . . . ."(14) + + (14) This quotation and those that follow are borrowed from + the unpublished correspondence with Emile Regnault. + +"When I first knew him I was disillusioned about everything, and I no +longer believed in those things which make us happy. He has warmed my +frozen heart and restored the life that was dying within me." She then +recalls their first meeting. It was in the country, at Coudray, +near Nohant. She fell in love with her dear Sandeau, thanks to his +youthfulness, his timidity and his awkwardness. He was just twenty, in +1831. On approaching the bench where she was awaiting him, "he concealed +himself in a neighbouring avenue--and I could see his hat and stick +on the bench," she writes. "Everything, even to the little red ribbon +threaded in the lining of his grey hat, thrilled me with joy. . . ." + +It is difficult to say why, but everything connected with this young +Jules seems absurd. Later on we get the following statement: "Until the +day when I told him that I loved him, I had never acknowledged as much +to myself. I felt that I did, but I would not own it even to my own +heart. Jules therefore learnt it at the same time as I did myself." + +People at La Chatre took the young man for her lover. The idea of +finding him again in Paris was probably one of her reasons for wishing +to establish herself there. Then came her life, as she describes it +herself, "in the little room looking on to the quay. I can see Jules +now in a shabby, dirty-looking artist's frock-coat, with his cravat +underneath him and his shirt open at the throat, stretched out over +three chairs, stamping with his feet or breaking the tongs in the heat +of the discussion. The Gaulois used to sit in a corner weaving great +plots, and you would be seated on a table." + +All this must certainly have been charming. The room was too small, +though, and George Sand commissioned Emile Regnault to find her a flat, +the essential condition of which should be some way of egress for Jules +at any hour. + +A little flat was discovered on the Quay St. Michel. There were three +rooms, one of which could be reserved. "This shall be the dark room," +wrote George Sand, "the mysterious room, the ghost's retreat, the +monster's den, the cage of the performing animal, the hiding-place for +the treasure, the vampire's cave, or whatever you like to call +it. . . ." + +In plainer language, it was Jules' room; and then follows some touching +eloquence about the dear boy she worshipped who loved her so dearly. + +This is the beginning of things, but later on the tone of the +correspondence changes. The letters become less frequent, and are also +not so gay. George Sand speaks much less of Jules in them and much more +of little Solange, whom she intended to bring back to Paris with her. +She is beginning to weary of Jules and to esteem him at his true value. +He is lazy, and has fits of depression and all the capriciousness of +a spoilt child. She has had enough of him, and then, too, it is very +evident from the letters that there has been some division among +the lively friends who had sworn to be comrades for life. There are +explanations and justifications. George Sand discovers that there are +certain inconveniences connected with intimacies in which there is +such disproportion of age and of social position. Finally there are the +following desperate letters, written in fits of irritation: "My dear +friend, go to Jules and look after him. He is broken-hearted, and you +can do nothing for him in that respect. It is no use trying. I do not +ask you to come to me yet, as I do not need anything. I would rather be +alone to-day. Then, too, there is nothing left for me in life. It will +be horrible for him for a long time, but he is so young. The day will +come, perhaps, when he will not be sorry to have lived. . . . +Do not attempt to put matters right, as this time there is no remedy. +We do not blame each other at all, and for some time we have been +struggling against this horrible necessity. We have had trouble enough. +There seemed to be nothing left but to put an end to our lives, and if +it had not been for my children, we should have done this." + +The question is, Was George Sand blameless in the matter? It appears +that she had discovered that her dear Jules was faithless to her, and +that, during her absence, he had deceived her. She would not forgive +him, but sent him off to Italy, and refused to see him again. The last +of these letters is dated June 15, 1833. + +"I shall make a parcel of a few of Jules' things that he left in +the wardrobe," she says, "and I will send them to you. I do not want +anything to do with him when he comes back, and, according to the last +words of the letter you showed me, his return may be soon. For a long +time I have been very much hurt by the discoveries I made with regard +to his conduct, and I could not feel anything else for him now but +affectionate compassion. His pride, I hope, would refuse this. Make him +clearly understand, if necessary, that there can never be anything more +between us. If this hard task should not be necessary, that is, if Jules +should himself understand that it could not be otherwise, spare him the +sorrow of hearing that he has lost everything, even my respect. He +must undoubtedly have lost his own self-esteem, so that he is punished +enough." + +Thus ended this great passion. This was the first of George Sand's +errors, and it certainly was an immense one. She had imagined that +happiness reigns in students' rooms. She had counted on the passing +fancy of a young man of good family, who had come to Paris to sow his +wild oats, for giving her fresh zest and for carving out for herself a +fresh future. It was a most commonplace adventure, utterly destitute of +psychology, and by its very bitterness it contrasted strangely with +her elevated sentimental romance with Aurelien de Seze. That was the +quintessence of refinement. All that is interesting about this second +adventure is the proof that it gives us of George Sand's wonderful +illusions, of the intensity of the mirage of which she was a dupe, and +of which we have so many instances in her life. + +Baronne Dudevant had tried conjugal life, and she had now tried free +love. She had been unsuccessful in both instances. It is to these +adventures though, to these trials, errors and disappointments that +we owe the writer we are about to study. George Sand was now born to +literature. + + + + +III + +A FEMINIST OF 1832 + +THE FIRST NOVELS AND THE QUESTION OF MARRIAGE + + +When Baronne Dudevant arrived in Paris, in 1831, her intention was to +earn her living with her pen. She never really counted seriously on the +income she might make by her talent for painting flowers on snuff-boxes +and ornamenting cigar-cases with water-colours. She arrived from her +province with the intention of becoming a writer. Like most authors who +commence, she first tried journalism. On the 4th of March, she wrote as +follows to the faithful Boucoiran: "In the meantime I must live, and +for the sake of that, I have taken up the worst of trades: I am writing +articles for the _Figaro_. If only you knew what that means! They are +paid for, though, at the rate of seven francs a column." + +She evidently found it worth while to write for the _Figaro_, which at +that time was quite a small newspaper, managed by Henri de Latouche, who +also came from Berry. He was a very second-rate writer himself, and +a poet with very little talent but, at any rate, he appreciated +and discovered talent in others. He published Andre Chenier's first +writings, and he introduced George Sand to the public. His new +apprentice was placed at one of the little tables at which the various +parts of the paper were manufactured. Unfortunately she had not the +vocation for this work. The first principle with regard to newspaper +articles is to make them short. When Aurore had come to the end of her +paper, she had not yet commenced her subject. It was no use attempting +to continue, so she gave up "the worst of trades," lucrative though it +might be. + +She could not help knowing, though, that she had the gift of writing. +She had inherited it from her ancestors, and this is the blest part of +her atavism. No matter how far back we go, and in every branch of her +genealogical tree, there is artistic heredity to be found. Maurice de +Saxe wrote his _Reveries_. This was a fine book for a soldier to write, +and for that alone he would deserve praise, even if he had not beaten +the English so gloriously. Mademoiselle Verrieres was an actress and +Dupin de Francueil a dilettante. Aurore's grandmother, Marie-Aurore, was +very musical, she sang operatic songs, and collected extracts from the +philosophers. Maurice Dupin was devoted to music and to the theatre. +Even Sophie-Victoire had an innate appreciation of beauty. She not only +wept, like Margot, at melodrama, but she noticed the pink of a cloud, +the mauve of a flower, and, what was more important, she called her +little daughter's attention to such things. This illiterate mother had +therefore had some influence on Aurore and on her taste for literature. + +It is not enough to say that George Sand was a born writer. She was a +born novelist, and she belonged to a certain category of novelists. +She had been created by a special decree of Providence to write her +own romances, and not others. It is this which makes the history of +the far-back origins of her literary vocation so interesting. It is +extremely curious to see, from her earliest childhood, the promises of +those faculties which were to become the very essence of her talent. +When she was only three years old, her mother used to put her between +four chairs in order to keep her still. By way of enlivening her +captivity, she tells us what she did. + +"I used to make up endless stories, which my mother styled my novels. +. . . I told these stories aloud, and my mother declared that they were +most tiresome on account of their length and of the development I gave +to my digressions. . . . There were very few bad people in them, +and never any serious troubles. Everything was always arranged +satisfactorily, thanks to my lively, optimistic ideas. . . ." + +She had already commenced, then, at the age of three, and these early +stories are the precursors of the novels of her maturity. They are +optimistic, drawn out, and with long digressions. Something similar is +told about Walter Scott. There is evidently a primordial instinct in +those who are born story-tellers, and this urges them on to invent fine +stories for amusing themselves. + +A little later on we have another phenomenon, almost as curious, with +regard to Aurore. We are apt to wonder how certain descriptive writers +proceed in order to give us pictures, the various features of which +stand out in such intense relief that they appear absolutely real to us. +George Sand tells us that when Berquin's stories were being read to +her at Nohant, she used to sit in front of the fire, from which she was +protected by an old green silk screen. She used gradually to lose the +sense of the phrases, but pictures began to form themselves in front of +her on the green screen. + +"I saw woods, meadows, rivers, towns of strange and gigantic +architecture. . . . One day these apparitions were so real that I was +startled by them, and I asked my mother whether she could see them." + + +With hallucinations like these a writer can be picturesque. He has +in front of him, although it may be between four walls, a complete +landscape. He has only to follow the lines of it and to reproduce the +colours, so that in painting imaginary landscapes he can paint them from +nature, from this model that appears to him, as though by enchantment. +He can, if he likes, count the leaves of the trees and listen to the +sound of the growing grass. + +Still later on, vague religious or philosophical conceptions began +to mingle with the fiction that Aurore always had in her mind. To her +poetical life, was added a moral life. She always had a romance going +on, to which she was constantly adding another chapter, like so many +links in a never-ending chain. She now gave a hero to her romance, a +hero whose name was Corambe. He was her ideal, a man whom she had made +her god. Whilst blood was flowing freely on the altars of barbarous +gods, on Corambe's altar life and liberty were given to a whole crowd +of captive creatures, to a swallow, to a robin-redbreast, and even to a +sparrow. We see already in all this her tendency to put moral intentions +into her romantic stories, to arrange her adventures in such a way that +they should serve as examples for making mankind better. These were the +novels, with a purpose, of her twelfth year. + +Let us now study a striking contrast, by way of observing the first +signs of vocation in two totally different novelists. In the beginning +of _Facino Cane_, Balzac tells us an incident of the time when, as an +aspiring writer, he lived in his attic in the Rue Lesdiguieres. One +evening, on coming out of the theatre, he amused himself with following +a working-man and his wife from the Boulevard du Pontaux-Choux to the +Boulevard Beaumarchais. He listened to them as they talked of the piece +they had just seen. They then discussed their business matters, and +afterwards house and family affairs. "While listening to this couple," +says Balzac, "I entered into their life. I could feel their clothes on +my back and, I was walking in their shabby boots." + +This is the novelist of the objective school, the one who comes out of +himself, who ceases to be himself and becomes another person. + +Instead of this exterior world, to which Balzac adapts himself, Aurore +talks to us of an inner world, emanating from her own fancy, the +reflection of her own imagination, the echo of her own heart, which is +really herself. This explains the difference between Balzac's impersonal +novel and George Sand's personal novel. It is just the difference +between realistic art, which gives way to the object, and idealistic +art, which transforms this according to its own will and pleasure. + +Up to this time George Sand's ideas had not been put on to paper. Both +_Corambe_ and the stories composed between four chairs were merely +fancies of a child's mind. Aurore soon began to write, though. She had +composed two novels while in the convent, one of which was religious and +the other a pastoral story. She was wise enough to tear them both up. On +leaving the convent she wrote another novel for Rene' de Villeneuve, and +this shared the same fate. In 1827, she wrote her _Voyage en Auvergne_, +and in 1829, another novel. In her _Histoire de ma vie_ she says of +this: "After reading it, I was convinced that it was of no value, but at +the same time I was sure I could write a better one. . . . I saw that +I could write quickly and easily, and without feeling any fatigue. +The ideas that were lying dormant in my mind were quickened and became +connected, by my deductions, as I wrote. With my meditative life, I had +observed a great deal, and had understood the various characters which +Fate had put in my way, so that I really knew enough of human nature +to be able to depict it." She now had that facility, that abundance of +matter and that nonchalance which were such characteristic features of +her writing. + +When George Sand began to publish, she had already written a great deal. +Her literary formation was complete. We notice this same thing whenever +we study the early work of a writer. Genius is revealed to us, perhaps, +with a sudden flash, but it has been making its way for a long time +underground, so that what we take for a spontaneous burst of genius is +nothing but the final effort of a sap which has been slowly accumulating +and which from henceforth is all-powerful. + +George Sand had to go through the inevitable period of feeling her way. +We are glad to think that the first book she published was not written +by herself alone, so that the responsibility of that execrable novel +does not lie solely with her. + +On the 9th of March, 1831, George Sand wrote to Boucoiran as follows: +"Monstrosities are in vogue, so we must invent monstrosities. I am +bringing forth a very pleasant one just at present. . . ." This was the +novel written in collaboration with Sandeau which appeared under the +signature of Jules Sand towards the end of 1831. It was entitled, _Rose +et Blanche, ou la Comedienne et la Religieuse_. + +It begins by a scene in a coach, rather like certain novels by Balzac, +but accompanied by insignificant details in the worst taste imaginable. +Two girls are travelling in the same coach. Rose is a young comedian, +and Sister Blanche is about to become a nun. They separate at Tarbes, +and the scene of the story is laid in the region of the Pyrenees, in +Tarbes Auch, Nerac, the Landes, and finishes with the return to Paris. +Rose, after an entertainment which is a veritable orgy, is handed over +by her mother to a licentious young man. He is ashamed of himself, +and, instead of leading Rose astray, he takes her to the Convent of the +Augustines, where she finds Sister Blanche once more. Sister Blanche has +not yet pronounced her vows, and the proof of this is that she marries +Horace. But what a wedding! As a matter of fact, Sister Blanche was +formerly named Denise. She was the daughter of a seafaring man of +Bordeaux, and was both pretty and foolish. She had been dishonoured by +the young libertine whom she is now to marry. The memory of the past +comes back to Blanche, and makes her live over again her life as Denise. +In the mean time Rose had become a great singer. She now arrives, just +in time to be present at her friend's deathbed. She enters the convent +herself, and takes the place left vacant by Sister Blanche. The whole of +this is absurd and frequently very disagreeable. + +It is quite easy to distinguish the parts due to the two collaborators, +and to see that George Sand wrote nearly all the book. There are +the landscapes, Tarbes Auch, Nerac, the Landes, and a number of +recollections of the famous journey to the Pyrenees and of her stay +at Guillery with the Dudevant family. The Convent of the Augustines +in Paris, with its English nuns and its boarders belonging to the best +families, is the one in which Aurore spent three years. The cloister can +be recognized, the garden planted with chestnut trees, and the cell +from which there was a view over the city. All her dreams seemed so near +Heaven there, for the rich, cloudy sky was so near--"that most beautiful +and ever-changing sky, perhaps the most beautiful in the world," of +which we read in _Rose et Blanche_. But together with this romance of +religious life is a libertine novel with stories of orgies, of a certain +private house, and of very risky and unpleasant episodes. This is the +collaborator's share in the work. The risky parts are Sandeau's. + +Such, then, is this hybrid composition. It was, in reality, the +monstrosity announced by George Sand. + +It had a certain success, but the person who was most severe in her +judgment of it was Sophie-Victoire, George Sand's mother, who had very +prudish tastes in literature. This woman is perfectly delightful, +and every time we come across her it is a fresh joy. Her daughter was +obliged to make some excuse for herself, and this she did by stating +that the work was not entirely her own. + +"I do not approve of a great deal of the nonsense," she writes, "and +I only let certain things pass to please my publisher, who wanted +something rather lively. . . . I do not like the risky parts +myself. . . ." Later on in the same letter, she adds: "There is nothing +of the kind in the book I am writing now, and I am using nothing of my +collaborator's in this, except his name."(15) + + (15) _Correspondance_: To her mother, February 22, 1832. + +This was true. Jules Sand had had his day, and the book of which she now +speaks was _Indiana_. She signed this "George Sand." + +The unpublished correspondence with Emile Regnault, some fragments of +which we have just read, contains a most interesting letter concerning +the composition of _Indiana_. It is dated February 28, 1832. George Sand +first insists on the severity of the subject and on its resemblance to +life. "It is as simple, as natural and as positive as you could wish," +she says. "It is neither romantic, mosaic, nor frantic. It is just +ordinary life of the most _bourgeois_ kind, but unfortunately this is +much more difficult than exaggerated literature. . . . There is not the +least word put in for nothing, not a single description, not a +vestige of poetry. There are no unexpected, extraordinary, or amazing +situations, but merely four volumes on four characters. With only just +these characters, that is, with hidden feelings, everyday thoughts, +with friendship, love, selfishness, devotion, self-respect, persistency, +melancholy, sorrow, ingratitude, disappointment, hope, and all the +mixed-up medley of the human mind, is it possible to write four volumes +which will not bore people? I am afraid of boring people, of boring them +as life itself does. And yet what is more interesting than the history +of the heart, when it is a true history? The main thing is to write true +history, and it is just that which is so difficult. . . ." + +This declaration is rather surprising to any one who reads it to-day. +We might ask whether what was natural in 1832 would be natural in 1910? +That is not the question which concerns us, though. The important fact +to note is that George Sand was no longer attempting to manufacture +monstrosities. She was endeavouring to be true, and she wanted above +everything else to present a character of woman who would be the typical +modern woman. + +"Noemi (this name was afterwards left to Sandeau, who had used it in +_Marianna_. George Sand changed it to that of _Indiana_) is a typical +woman, strong and weak, tired even by the weight of the air, but capable +of holding up the sky; timid in everyday life, but daring in days of +battle; shrewd and clever in seizing the loose threads of ordinary life, +but silly and stupid in distinguishing her own interests when it is a +question of her happiness; caring little for the world at large, but +allowing herself to be duped by one man; not troubling much about +her own dignity, but watching over that of the object of her choice; +despising the vanities of the times as far as she is concerned, but +allowing herself to be fascinated by the man who is full of these +vanities. This, I believe," she says, "is the usual woman, an +extraordinary mixture of weakness and energy, of grandeur and of +littleness, a being ever composed of two opposite natures, at times +sublime and at times despicable, clever in deceiving and easily deceived +herself." + +This novel, intended to present to us the modern woman, ought to be +styled a "feminist novel." It was also, as regards other points of view. +_Indiana_ appeared in May, 1832, _Valentine_ in 1833, and _Jacques_ in +1834. In these three books I should like to show our present feminism, +already armed, and introduced to us according to George Sand's early +ideas. + + +_Indiana_ is the story of a woman who had made an unfortunate marriage. +At the age of nineteen she had married Colonel Delmare. Colonels were +very much in vogue in those days, and the fact that he had attained that +rank proves that he was much older than she was. Colonel Delmare was an +honest, straightforward man in the Pharisaical sense of the word. This +simply means that he had never robbed or killed any one. He had no +delicacy and no charm, and, fond as he was of his own authority, he +was a domestic tyrant. Indiana was very unhappy between this execrable +husband and a cousin of hers, Ralph, a man who is twice over English, +in the first place because his name is Brown, and then because he is +phlegmatic. Ralph is delightful and most excellent, and it is on his +account that she is insensible to the charms of Raymon de Ramieres an +elegant and distinguished young man who is a veritable lady-killer. + +Space forbids us to go into all the episodes of this story, but the +crisis is that Colonel Delmare is ruined, and his business affairs call +him to the Isle of Bourbon. He intends to take Indiana with him, but she +refuses to accompany him. She knows quite well that Raymon will do all +he can to prevent her going. She hurries away to him, offers herself to +him, and volunteers to remain with him always. It is unnecessary to give +Raymon's reply to this charming proposal. Poor Indiana receives a very +wet blanket on a cold winter's night. + + +She therefore starts for the Isle of Bourbon, and, some time after her +arrival there, she gets a letter from Raymon which makes her think that +he is very unhappy. She accordingly hastens back to him, but is received +by the young wife whom Raymon has just married. It is a very +brilliant marriage, and Raymon could not have hoped for anything more +satisfactory. Poor Indiana! The Seine, however, is quite near, and she +throws herself into it. This was quite safe, as Ralph was there to +fish her out again. Ralph was always at hand to fish his cousin out of +everything. He is her appointed rescuer, her Newfoundland dog. In the +country or in the town, on _terra firma_ or on the boat which takes +Indiana to the Isle of Bourbon, we always see Ralph turn up, phlegmatic +as usual. Unnecessary to say that Ralph is in love with Indiana. His +apparent calmness is put on purposely. It is the snowy covering under +which a volcano is burning. His awkward and unprepossessing appearance +conceals an exquisite soul. Ralph brings Indiana good news. Colonel +Delmare is dead, so that she is free. What will she do now with her +liberty? After due deliberation, Ralph and Indiana decide to commit +suicide, but they have to agree about the kind of death they will die. +Ralph considers that this is a matter of certain importance. He does not +care to kill himself in Paris; there are too many people about, so that +there is no tranquillity. The Isle of Bourbon seems to him a pleasant +place for a suicide. There was a magnificent horizon there; then, too, +there was a precipice and a waterfall. . . . + +Ralph's happy ideas are somewhat sinister, but the couple set out +nevertheless for the Isle of Bourbon in search of a propitious +waterfall. A sea-voyage, under such circumstances, would be an excellent +preparation. When once there, they carry out their plans, and Ralph +gives his beloved wise advice at the last moment. She must not jump from +the side, as that would be bad. "Throw yourself into the white line that +the waterfall makes," he says. "You will then reach the lake with that, +and the torrent will plunge you in." This sounds enticing. + +Such a suicide was considered infinitely poetical at that epoch, and +every one pitied Indiana in her troubles. It is curious to read such +books calmly a long time afterwards, books which reflect so exactly the +sentiments of a certain epoch. It is curious to note how the point of +view has changed, and how people and things appear to us exactly the +reverse of what they appeared to the author and to contemporaries. + +As a matter of fact, the only interesting person in all this is Colonel +Delmare, or, at any rate, he is the only one of whom Indiana could +not complain. He loved her, and he loved no one else but her. The like +cannot be said for Indiana. Few husbands would imitate his patience and +forbearance, and he certainly allowed his wife the most extraordinary +freedom. At one time we find, a young man in Indiana's bedroom, and at +another time Indiana in a young man's bedroom. Colonel Delmare receives +Raymon at his house in a friendly way, and he tolerates the presence of +the sempiternal Ralph in his home. What more can be asked of a husband +than to allow his wife to have a man friend and a cousin? Indiana +declares that Colonel Delmare has struck her, and that the mark is left +on her face. She exaggerated, though, as we know quite well what took +place. In reality all this was at Plessis-Picard. Delmare-Dudevant +struck Indiana-Aurore. This was certainly too much, but there was no +blood shed. As to the other personages, Raymon is a wretched little +rascal, who was first the lover of Indiana's maid. He next made love +to poor Noun's mistress, and then deserted her to make a rich marriage. +Ralph plunges Indiana down a precipice. That was certainly bad treatment +for the woman he loved. As regards Indiana, George Sand honestly +believed that she had given her all the charms imaginable. As a matter +of fact, she did charm the readers of that time. It is from this model +that we have one of the favourite types of woman in literature for the +next twenty years--the misunderstood woman. + +The misunderstood woman is pale, fragile, and subject to fainting. Up to +page 99 of the book, Indiana has fainted three times. I did not continue +counting. This fainting was not the result of bad health. It was the +fashion to faint. The days of nerves and languid airs had come back. The +women whose grandmothers had walked so firmly to the scaffold, and +whose mothers had listened bravely to the firing of the cannon under the +Empire, were now depressed and tearful, like so many plaintive elegies. +It was just a matter of fashion. The misunderstood woman was supposed +to be unhappy with her husband, but she would not have been any happier +with another man. Indiana does not find fault with Colonel Delmare for +being the husband that he is, but simply for being the husband! + +"She did not love her husband, for the mere reason, perhaps, that she +was told it was her duty to love him and that it had become her second +nature, a principle and a law of her conscience to resist inwardly +all moral constraint." She affected a most irritating gentleness, an +exasperating submissiveness. When she put on her superior, resigned +airs, it was enough to unhinge an angel. Besides, what was there to +complain about, and why should she not accommodate herself to conditions +of existence with which so many others fall in? She must not be compared +to others, though. She is eminently a distinguished woman, and she asks +without shrinking: "Do you know what it means to love a woman such as I +am?" + +In her long silences and her persistent melancholy, she is no doubt +thinking of the love appropriate to a woman such as she is. She was a +princess in exile and times were then hard for princesses. That is why +the one in question took refuge in her homesick sorrow. All this is what +people will not understand. Instead of rising to such sublimities, or of +being lost in fogs, they judge from mere facts. And on coming across +a young wife who is inclined to prefer a handsome, dark young man to a +husband who is turning grey, they are apt to conclude: "Well, this is +not the first time we have met with a similar case. It is hardly worth +while making such a fuss about a young plague of a woman who wants to +go to the bad." It would be very unjust, though, not to recognize that +_Indiana_ is a most remarkable novel. There is a certain relief in the +various characters, Colonel Delmare, Raymon, Ralph and Inaiana. We ought +to question the husbands who married wives belonging to the race of +misunderstood women brought into vogue by _Indiana_. + + +_Valentine_, too, is the story of a woman unhappily married. + +This time the chief _role_ is given to the lover, and not to the woman. +Instead of the misunderstood woman, though, we have the typical frenzied +lover, created by the romantic school. Louise-Valentine de Raimbault +is about to marry Norbert-Evariste de Lansac, when suddenly this young +person, who is accustomed to going about in the country round and to the +village fetes, falls in love with the nephew of one of her farmers. +The young man's name is Benedict, and he is a peasant who has had some +education. His mentality is probably that of a present-day elementary +school-teacher. Valentine cannot resist him, although we are told that +Benedict is not very handsome. It is his soul which Valentine loves in +him. Benedict knows very well that he cannot marry Valentine, but he can +cause her a great deal of annoyance by way of proving his love. On the +night of the wedding he is in the nuptial chamber, from which the +author has taken care to banish the husband for the time being. Benedict +watches over the slumber of the woman he loves, and leaves her an +epistle in which he declares that, after hesitating whether he should +kill her husband, her, or himself, or whether he should kill all three, +or only select two of the three, and after adopting in turn each of +these combinations, he has decided to only kill himself. He is found +in a ditch in a terrible plight, but we are by no means rid of him. +Benedict is not dead, and he has a great deal of harm to do yet. We +shall meet with him again several times, always hidden behind curtains, +listening to all that is said and watching all that takes place. At the +right moment he comes out with his pistol in his hand. The husband is +away during all this time. No one troubles about him, though. He is a +bad husband, or rather he is--a husband, and Benedict has nothing to +fear as far as he is concerned. But one day a peasant, who does not like +the looks of Benedict, attacks him with his pitchfork and puts an end to +this valuable life. + +The question arises, by what right Benedict disturbs Valentine's +tranquillity. The answer is by the right of his passion for her. He has +an income of about twenty pounds a year. It would be impossible for him +to marry on that. What has he to offer to the woman whose peace of mind +he disturbs and whose position he ruins? He offers himself. Surely that +should be enough. Then, too, it is impossible to reason with individuals +of his temperament. We have only to look at him, with his sickly pallor +and the restless light in his eyes. We have only to listen to the sound +of his voice and his excited speeches. At times he goes in for wild +declamation, and immediately afterwards for cold irony and sarcasm. He +is always talking of death. When he attempts to shoot himself he always +misses, but when Adele d'Hervey resists him, at the time he has taken +the name of Antony, he kills her. He is therefore a dangerous madman. + +We now have two fresh personages for novels, the misunderstood woman and +the frenzied lover. It is a pity they do not marry each other, and so +rid us of them. + +We must not lose sight, though, of the fact that, contestable as +_Valentine_ certainly is as a novel of passion, there is a pastoral +novel of the highest order contained in this book. The setting of the +story is delightful. George Sand has placed the scene in that Black +Valley which she knew so well and loved so dearly. It is the first of +her novels in which she celebrates her birthplace. There are walks along +the country pathways, long meditations at night, village weddings +and fetes. All the poetry and all the picturesqueness of the country +transform and embellish the story. + + +In _Jacques_ we have the history of a man unhappily married, and this, +through the reciprocity which is inevitable under the circumstances, is +another story of a woman unhappily married. + +At the age of thirty-five, after a stormy existence, in which years +count double, Jacques marries Fernande, a woman much younger than he +is. After a few unhappy months he sees the first clouds appearing in his +horizon. He sends for his sister Sylvia to come and live with himself +and his wife. Sylvia, like Jacques, is an exceptional individual. She +is proud, haughty and reserved. It can readily be imagined that, the +presence of this pythoness does not tend to restore the confidence which +has become somewhat shaken between the husband and wife. A young man +named Octave, who was at first attracted by Sylvia, soon begins to +prefer Fernande, who is not a romantic, ironical and sarcastic woman +like her sister-in-law. He fancies that he should be very happy with the +gentle Fernande. Jacques discovers that Octave and his wife are in love +with each other. There are various alternatives for him. He can dismiss +his rival, kill him, or merely pardon him. Each alternative is a very +ordinary way out of the difficulty, and Jacques cannot resign himself to +anything ordinary. He therefore asks his wife's lover whether he really +cares for his wife, whether he is in earnest, and also whether this +attachment will be durable. Quite satisfied with the result of this +examination, he leaves Fernande to Octave. He then disappears and kills +himself, but he takes all necessary precautions to avert the suspicion +of suicide, in order not to sadden Octave and Fernande in their +happiness. He had not been able to keep his wife's love, but he does not +wish to be the jailer of the woman who no longer loves him. Fernande +has a right to happiness and, as he has not been able to ensure that +happiness, he must give place to another man. It is a case of suicide +as a duty. There are instances when a husband should know that it is his +duty to disappear. . . . Jacques is "a stoic." George Sand has a great +admiration for such characters. She gives us her first sketch of one in +Ralph, but Jacques is presented to us as a sublime being. + +Personally, I look upon him as a mere greenhorn, or, as would be said in +Wagner's dramas, a "pure simpleton." + +He did everything to ruin his home life. His young wife had confidence +in him; she was gay and naive. He went about, folding his arms in a +tragic way. He was absent-minded and gloomy, and she began to be awed by +him. One day, when, in her sorrow for having displeased him, she flung +herself on her knees, sobbing, instead of lifting her up tenderly, he +broke away from her caresses, telling her furiously to get up and never +to behave in such a way again in his presence. After this he puts his +sister, the "bronze woman," between them, and he invites Octave to live +with them. When he has thus destroyed his wife's affection for him, in +spite of the fact that at one time she wished for nothing better than +to love him, he goes away and gives up the whole thing. All that is too +easy. One of Meilhac's heroines says to a man, who declares that he is +going to drown himself for her sake, "Oh yes, that is all very fine. You +would be tranquil at the bottom of the water! But what about me? . . ." + +In this instance Jacques is tranquil at the bottom of his precipice, but +Fernande is alive and not at all tranquil. Jacques never rises to the +very simple conception of his duty, which was that, having made a woman +the companion of his life's journey, he had no right to desert her on +the way. + +Rather than blame himself, though, Jacques prefers incriminating the +institution of marriage. The criticism of this institution is very +plain in the novel we are considering. In her former novels George, Sand +treated all this in a more or less vague way. She now states her theory +clearly. Jacques considers that marriage is a barbarous institution. +"I have not changed my opinion," he says, "and I am not reconciled to +society. I consider marriage one of the most barbarous institutions +ever invented. I have no doubt that it will be abolished when the human +species makes progress in the direction of justice and reason. Some +bond that will be more human and just as sacred will take the place of +marriage and provide for the children born of a woman and a man, without +fettering their liberty for ever. Men are too coarse at present, and +women too cowardly, to ask for a nobler law than the iron one which +governs them. For individuals without conscience and without virtue, +heavy chains are necessary." + +We also hear Sylvia's ideas and the plans she proposes to her brother +for the time when marriage is abolished. + +"We will adopt an orphan, imagine that it is our child, and bring it up +in our principles. We could educate a child of each sex, and then marry +them when the time came, before God, with no other temple than the +desert and no priest but love. We should have formed their souls to +respect truth and justice, so that, thanks to us, there would be one +pure and happy couple on the face of the earth." + +The suppression of marriage, then, was the idea, and, in a future more +or less distant, free love! + +It is interesting to discover by what series of deductions George Sand +proceeds and on what principles she bases everything. When once her +principles are admitted, the conclusion she draws from them is quite +logical. + +What is her essential objection to marriage? The fact that marriage +fetters the liberty of two beings. "Society dictates to you the formula +of an oath. You must swear that you will be faithful and obedient to me, +that you will never love any one but me, and that you will obey me in +everything. One of those oaths is absurd and the other vile. You cannot +be answerable for your heart, even if I were the greatest and most +perfect of men." Now comes the question of love for another man. Until +then it was considered that such love was a weakness, and that it might +become a fault. But, after all, is not passion a fatal and irresistible +thing? + +"No human creature can command love, and no one is to be blamed for +feeling it or for ceasing to feel it. What lowers a woman is untruth." A +little farther on we are told: "They are not guilty, for they love each +other. There is no crime where there is sincere love." According to +this theory, the union of man and woman depends on love alone. When love +disappears, the union cannot continue. Marriage is a human institution, +but passion is of Divine essence. In case of any dissension, it is +always the institution of marriage which is to be blamed. + +The sole end in view of marriage is charm, either that of sentiment or +that of the senses, and its sole object is the exchange of two fancies. +As the oath of fidelity is either a stupidity or a degradation, can +anything more opposed to common sense, and a more absolute ignorance +of all that is noble and great, be imagined than the effort mankind +is making, against all the chances of destruction by which he is +surrounded, to affirm, in face of all that changes, his will and +intention to continue? We all remember the heart-rending lamentation of +Diderot: "The first promises made between two creatures of flesh," he +says, "were made at the foot of a rock crumbling to dust. They called on +Heaven to be a witness of their constancy, but the skies in the Heaven +above them were never the same for an instant. Everything was changing, +both within them and around them, and they believed that their heart +would know no change. Oh, what children, what children always!" Ah, +not children, but what men rather! We know these fluctuations in our +affections. And it is because we are afraid of our own fragility that +we call to our aid the protection of laws, to which submission is no +slavery, as it is voluntary submission. Nature does not know these laws, +but it is by them that we distinguish ourselves from Nature and that +we rise above it. The rock on which we tread crumbles to dust, the sky +above our heads is never the same an instant, but, in the depth of our +hearts, there is the moral law--and that never changes! + +In order to reply to these paradoxes, where shall we go in search of our +arguments? We can go to George Sand herself. A few years later, during +her intercourse with Lamennals, she wrote her famous _Lettres a Marcie_ +for _Le Monde_. She addresses herself to an imaginary correspondent, +to a woman supposed to be suffering from that agitation and impatience +which she had experienced herself. + +"You are sad," says George Sand to her, "you are suffering, and you are +bored to death." We will now take note of some of the advice she gives +to this woman. She no longer believes that it belongs to human dignity +to have the liberty of changing. "The one thing to which man aspires, +the thing which makes him great, is permanence in the moral state. All +which tends to give stability to our desires, to strengthen the human +will and affections, tends to bring about the _reign of God_ on earth, +which means love and the practice of truth." She then speaks of vain +dreams. "Should we even have time to think about the impossible if we +did all that is necessary? Should we despair ourselves if we were to +restore hope in those people who have nothing left them but hope?" With +regard to feminist claims, she says: "Women are crying out that they are +slaves: let them wait until men are free! . . . In the mean time we must +not compromise the future by our impatience with the present. . . . It +is to be feared that vain attempts of this kind and unjustifiable claims +may do harm to what is styled at present the cause of women. There is +no doubt that women have certain rights and that they are suffering +injustice. They ought to lay claim to a better future, to a wise +independence, to a greater participation in knowledge, and to more +respect, interest and esteem from men. This future, though, is in their +own hands." + +This is wisdom itself. It would be impossible to put it more clearly, +and to warn women in a better way, that the greatest danger for +their cause would be the triumph of what is called by an ironical +term--feminism. + +These retractions, though, have very little effect. There is a certain +piquancy in showing up an author who is in contradiction with himself, +in showing how he refutes his own paradoxes. But these are striking +paradoxes which are not readily forgotten. What I want to show is that +in these first novels by George Sand we have about the whole of +the feminist programme of to-day. Everything is there, the right to +happiness, the necessity of reforming marriage, the institution, in +a more or less near future, of free unions. Our feminists of to-day, +French, English, or Norwegian authoresses, and theoricians like Ellen +Key, with her book on _Love and Marriage_, all these rebels have +invented nothing. They have done nothing but take up once more the +theories of the great feminist of 1832, and expose them with less +lyricism but with more cynicism. + +George Sand protested against the accusation of having aimed at +attacking institutions in her feminist novels. She was wrong in +protesting, as it is just this which gives her novels their value +and significance. It is this which dates them and which explains the +enormous force of expansion that they have had. They came just after +the July Revolution, and we must certainly consider them as one of +the results of that. A throne had just been overturned, and, by way of +pastime, churches were being pillaged and an archbishop's palace had +been sackaged. Literature was also attempting an insurrection, by way of +diversion. For a long time it had been feeding the revolutionary ferment +which it had received from romanticism. Romanticism had demanded the +freedom of the individual, and the writers at the head of this movement +were Chateaubriand, Victor Hugo and Dumas. They claimed this freedom +for Rene, for Hermann and for Antony, who were men. An example had been +given, and women meant to take advantage of it. Women now began their +revolution. + +Under all these influences, and in the particular atmosphere now +created, the matrimonial mishap of Baronne Dudevant appeared to her +of considerable importance. She exaggerated and magnified it until it +became of social value. Taking this private mishap as her basis, she +puts into each of her heroines something of herself. This explains the +passionate tone of the whole story. And this passion could not fail to +be contagious for the women who read her stories, and who recognized in +the novelist's cause their own cause and the cause of all women. + +This, then, is the novelty in George Sand's way of presenting feminist +grievances. She had not invented these grievances. They were already +contained in Madame de Stael's books, and I have not forgotten her. +Delphine and Corinne, though, were women of genius, and presented to +us as such. In order to be pitied by Madame de Stael, it was absolutely +necessary to be a woman of genius. For a woman to be defended by George +Sand, it was only necessary that she should not love her husband, and +this was a much more general thing. + + +George Sand had brought feminism within the reach of all women. This +is the characteristic of these novels, the eloquence of which cannot be +denied. They are novels for the vulgarization of the feminist theory. + + + + +IV + +THE ROMANTIC ESCAPADE + +THE VENICE ADVENTURE + + +George Sand did not have to wait long for success. She won fame with her +first book. With her second one she became rich, or what she considered +rich. She tells us that she sold it for a hundred and sixty pounds! That +seemed to her the wealth of the world, and she did not hesitate to leave +her attic on the Quay St. Michel for a more comfortable flat on Quay +Malaquais, which de Latouche gave up to her. + +There was, at that time, a personage in Paris who had begun to exercise +a sort of royal tyranny over authors. Francois Buloz had taken advantage +of the intellectual effervescence of 1831 to found the _Revue des Deux +Mondes_. He was venturesome, energetic, original, very shrewd, though +apparently rough, obliging, in spite of his surly manners. He is still +considered the typical and traditional review manager. He certainly +possessed the first quality necessary for this function. He discovered +talented writers, and he also knew how to draw from them and squeeze out +of them all the literature they contained. Tremendously headstrong, +he has been known to keep a contributor under lock and key until his +article was finished. Authors abused him, quarrelled with him, and +then came back to him again. A review which had, for its first numbers, +George Sand, Vigny, Musset, Merimee, among many others, as contributors, +may be said to have started well. George Sand tells us that after a +battle with the _Revue de Paris_ and the _Revue des Deux Mondes_, both +of which papers wanted her work, she bound herself to the _Revue des +Deux Mondes_, which was to pay her a hundred and sixty pounds a year for +thirty-two pages of writing every six weeks. In 1833 the _Revue des Deux +Mondes_ published Lelia, and on January 1, 1876, it finished publishing +the _Tour de Percemont_. This means an uninterrupted collaboration, +extending over a period of forty-three years. + +The literary critic of the _Revue des Deux Mondes_ at that time was +a man who was very much respected and very little liked, or, in other +words, he was universally detested. This critic was Gustave Planche. +He took his own _role_ too seriously, and endeavoured to put authors +on their guard about their faults. Authors did not appreciate this. +He endeavoured, too, to put the public on guard against its own +infatuations. The public did not care for this. He sowed strife and +reaped revenge. This did not stop him, though, for he went calmly on +continuing his executions. His impassibility was only feigned, and this +is the curious side of the story. He suffered keenly from the storms of +hostility which he provoked. He had a kindly disposition at bottom +and tender places in his heart. He was rather given to melancholy and +intensely pessimistic. To relieve his sadness, he gave himself up to +hard work, and he was thoroughly devoted to art. In order to comprehend +this portrait and to see its resemblance, we, who knew our great +Brunetiere, have only to think of him. He, too, was noble, fervent +and combative, and he sought in his exclusive devotion to literature a +diversion from his gloomy pessimism, underneath which was concealed such +kindliness. It seemed with him, too, as though he took a pride in making +a whole crowd of enemies, whilst in reality the discovery of every fresh +adversary caused him great suffering. + +When _Lelia_ appeared, the novel was very badly treated in _L'Europe +litteraire_. Planche challenged the writer of the article, a certain +Capo de Feuillide, to a duel. So much for the impassibility of +severe critics. The duel took place, and afterwards there was a +misunderstanding between George Sand and Planche. From that time forth +critics have given up fighting duels for the sake of authors. + +About the same time, George Sand made use of Sainte-Beuve as her +confessor. He seemed specially indicated for this function. In the first +place, he looked rather ecclesiastical, and then he had a taste for +secrets, and more particularly for whispered confessions. George Sand +had absolute confidence in him. She considered that he had an almost +angelic nature. In reality, just about that time, the angelic man was +endeavouring to get into the good graces of the wife of his best friend, +and was writing his _Livre d'Amour_, and divulging to the world a +weakness of which he had taken advantage. This certainly was the most +villainous thing a man could do. But then he, too, was in love and was +struggling and praying. George Sand declares her veneration for him, and +she constituted herself his penitent. + +She begins her confession by an avowal that must have been difficult for +her. She tells of her intimacy with Merimee, an intimacy which was +of short duration and very unsatisfactory. She had been fascinated by +Merimee's art. + +"For about a week," she says, "I thought he had the secret of +happiness." At the end of the week she was "weeping with disgust, +suffering and discouragement." She had hoped to find in him the devotion +of a consoler, but she found "nothing but cold and bitter jesting."(16) +This experiment had also proved a failure. + + (16) Compare _Lettres a Sainte-Beuve_. + +Such were the conditions in which George Sand found herself at this +epoch. Her position was satisfactory; she might have been calm and +independent. Her inner life was once more desolate, and she was +thoroughly discouraged. She felt that she had lived centuries, that she +had undergone torture, that her heart had aged twenty years, and that +nothing was any pleasure to her now. Added to all this, public life +saddened her, for the horizon had clouded over. The boundless hopes and +the enthusiasm of 1831 were things of the past. "The Republic, as it was +dreamed of in July," she writes, "has ended in the massacres of Warsaw +and in the holocaust of the Saint-Merry cloister. The cholera has just +been raging. Saint Simonism has fallen through before it had settled the +great question of love."(17) + + (17) _Histoire de ma vie_. + +Depression had come after over-excitement. This is a phenomenon +frequently seen immediately after political convulsions. It might be +called the perpetual failure of revolutionary promises. + +It was under all these influences that George Sand wrote _Lelia_. She +finished it in July, and it appeared in August, 1833. + +It is absolutely impossible to give an analysis of _Lelia_. There really +is no subject. The personages are not beings of flesh and blood. They +are allegories strolling about in the garden of abstractions. Lelia is +a woman who has had her trials in life. She has loved and been +disappointed, so that she can no longer love at all. She reduces the +gentle poet Stenio to despair. He is much younger than she is, and he +has faith in life and in love. His ingenuous soul begins to wither +and to lose its freshness, thanks to the scepticism of the beautiful, +disdainful, ironical and world-weary Lelia. This strange person has a +sister Pulcherie, a celebrated courtesan, whose insolent sensuality is +a set-off to the other one's mournful complaints. We have here the +opposition of Intelligence and of the Flesh, of Mind and Matter. Then +comes Magnus, the priest, who has lost his faith, and for whom Lelia +is a temptation, and after him we have Trenmor, Lelia's great friend, +Trenmor, the sublime convict. As a young man he had been handsome. He +had loved and been young. He had known what it was to be only twenty +years of age. "The only thing was, he had known this at the age +of sixteen" (!!) He had then become a gambler, and here follows an +extraordinary panegyric on the fatal passion for gambling. Trenmor +ruins himself, borrows without paying back, and finally swindles "an old +millionaire who was himself a defrauder and a dissipated man" out of +a hundred francs. Apparently the bad conduct of the man Trenmor robs, +excuses the swindling. He is condemned to five years of hard labour. He +undergoes his punishment, and is thereby regenerated. "What if I were to +tell you," writes George Sand, "that such as he now is, crushed, with a +tarnished reputation, ruined, I consider him superior to all of us, as +regards the moral life. As he had deserved punishment, he was willing to +bear it. He bore it, living for five years bravely and patiently among +his abject companions. He has come back to us out of that abominable +sewer holding his head up, calm, purified, pale as you see him, but +handsome still, like a creature sent by God." + +We all know how dear convicts are to the hearts of romantic people. +There is no need for me to remind you how they have come to us recently, +encircled with halos of suffering and of purity. We all remember +Dostoiewsky's _Crime and Punishment_ and Tolstoi's _Resurrection_. When +the virtue of expiation and the religion of human suffering came to +us from Russia, we should have greeted them as old acquaintances, if +certain essential works in our own literature, of which these books are +the issue, had not been unknown to us. + +The last part of the novel is devoted to Stenio. Hurt by Lelia's +disdain, which has thrown him into the arms of her sister Pulcherie, +he gives himself up to debauch. We find him at a veritable orgy in +Pulcherie's house. Later on he is in a monastery at Camaldules, talking +to Trenmor and Magnus. In such books we must never be astonished. . . . +There is a long speech by Stenio, addressed to Don Juan, whom he +regrets to have taken as his model. The poor young man of course commits +suicide. He chooses drowning as the author evidently prefers that mode +of suicide. Lelia arrives in time to kneel down by the corpse of the +young man who has been her victim. Magnus then appears on the scene, +exactly at the right moment, to strangle Lelia. Pious hands prepare +Lelia and Stenio for their burial. They are united and yet separated up +to their very death. + +The summing up we have given is the original version of _Lelia_. +In 1836, George Sand touched up this work, altering much of it and +spoiling, what she altered. It is a pity that her new version, which +is longer, heavier and more obscure, should have taken the place of the +former one. In its first form _Lelia_ is a work of rare beauty, but with +the beauty of a poem or an oratorio. It is made of the stuff of which +dreams are composed. It is a series of reveries, adapted to the soul +of 1830. At every different epoch there is a certain frame of mind, and +certain ideas are diffused in the air which we find alike in the works +of the writers of that time, although they did not borrow them from each +other. _Lelia_ is a sort of summing up of the themes then in vogue in +the personal novel and in lyrical poetry. The theme of that suffering +which is beneficent and inspiring is contained in the following words: +"Come back to me, Sorrow! Why have you left me? It is by grief alone +that man is great." This is worthy of Chateaubriand. The theme of +melancholy is as follows: "The moon appeared. . . . What is the moon, +and what is its nocturnal magic to me? One hour more or less is nothing +to me." This might very well be Lamartine. We then have the malediction +pronounced in face of impassible Nature: "Yes, I detested that radiant +and magnificent Nature, for it was there before me in all its stupid +beauty, silent and proud, for us to gaze on, believing that it was +enough to merely show itself." This reminds us of Vigny in his _Maison +du berger_. Then we have the religion of love: "Doubt God, doubt men, +doubt me if you like, but do not doubt love." This is Musset. + +But the theme which predominates, and, as we have compared all this to +music, we might say the _leit-motiv_ of all, is that of desolation, of +universal despair, of the woe of life. It is the same lamentation which, +ever since Werther, was to be heard throughout all literature. It is the +identical suffering which Rene, Obermann and Lara had been repeating to +all the echoes. The elements of it were the same: pride which prevents +us from adapting ourselves to the conditions of universal life, an abuse +of self-analysis which opens up our wounds again and makes them bleed, +the wild imagination which presents to our eyes the deceptive mirage of +Promised Lands from which we are ever exiles. Lelia personifies, in her +turn, the "_mal du siecle_." Stenio reproaches her with only singing +grief and doubt. "How many, times," he says, "have you appeared to me +as typical of the indescribable suffering in which mankind is plunged +by the spirit of inquiry! With your beauty and your sadness, your +world-weariness and your scepticism, do you not personify the excess of +grief produced by the abuse of thought?" He then adds: "There is a great +deal of pride in this grief, Lelia!" It was undoubtedly a malady, for +Lelia had no reason to complain of life any more than her brothers in +despair. It is simply that the general conditions of life which all +people have to accept seem painful to them. When we are well the play of +our muscles is a joy to us, but when we are ill we feel the very weight +of the atmosphere, and our eyes are hurt by the pleasant daylight. + +When _Lelia_ appeared George Sand's old friends were stupefied. "What, +in Heaven's name, is this?" wrote Jules Neraud, the _Malgache._ "Where +have you been in search of this? Why have you written such a book? +Where has it sprung from, and what is it for? . . . This woman is a +fantastical creature. She is not at all like you. You are lively and can +dance a jig; you can appreciate butterflies and you do not despise puns. +You sew and can make jam very well."(18) + + (18) _Histoire de ma vie_. + +It certainly was not her portrait. She was healthy and believed in life, +in the goodness of things and in the future of humanity, just as Victor +Hugo and Dumas _pere_, those other forces of Nature, did, at about the +same time. A soul foreign to her own had entered into her, and it was +the romantic soul. With the magnificent power of receptivity which she +possessed, George Sand welcomed all the winds which came to her from +the four quarters of romanticism. She sent them back with unheard-of +fulness, sonorous depth and wealth of orchestration. From that time +forth a woman's voice could be heard, added to all the masculine voices +which railed against life, and the woman's voice dominated them all! + +In George Sand's psychological evolution, _Lelia_ is just this: the +beginning of the invasion of her soul by romanticism. It was a borrowed +individuality, undoubtedly, but it was not something to be put on and +off at will like a mask. It adhered to the skin. It was all very fine +for George Sand to say to Sainte-Beuve: "Do not confuse the man himself +with the suffering. . . . And do not believe in all my satanical airs. +. . . This is simply a style that I have taken on, I assure you. . . ." + +Sainte-Beuve had every reason to be alarmed, and the confessor was quite +right in his surmises. The crisis of romanticism had commenced. It +was to take an acute form and to reach its paroxysm during the Venice +escapade. It is from this point of view that we will study the famous +episode, which has already been studied by so many other writers. + + +No subject, perhaps, has excited the curiosity of readers like this one, +and always without satisfying that curiosity. A library could be formed +of the books devoted to this subject, written within the last ten years. +Monsieur Rocheblave, Monsieur Maurice Clouard, Dr. Cabanes, Monsieur +Marieton, the enthusiastic collector, Spoelberch de Lovenjoul and +Monsieur Decori have all given us their contributions to the debate.(19) +Thanks to them, we have the complete correspondence of George Sand and +Musset, the diary of George Sand and Pagello's diary. + + (19) Consult: Rocheblave, _La fin dune Legende;_ Maurice + Clouard, _Documents inedits sur A. de Musset;_ Dr. Cabanes, + _Musset et le Dr. Pagello_; Paul Marieton, _Une histoire + d'amour;_ Vicomte Spoelberch de Lovenjoul, _La vrai histoire + d'Elle et Lui;_ Decori, _Lettres de George Sand et Musset._ + +With the aid of all these documents Monsieur Charles Maurras has written +a book entitled _Les Amants de Venise_. It is the work of a psychologist +and of an artist. The only fault I have to find with it is that the +author of it seems to see calculation and artifice everywhere, and not +to believe sufficiently in sincerity. We must not forget, either, that +as early as the year 1893, all that is essential had been told us by +that shrewd writer and admirable woman, Arvede Barine. The chapter which +she devotes to the Venice episode, in her biography of Alfred de Musset, +is more clear and simple, and at the same time deeper than anything that +had yet been written. + +It is a subject that has been given up to the curiosity of people and +to their disputes. The strange part is the zeal which at once animates +every one who takes part in this controversy. The very atmosphere seems +to be impregnated with strife, and those interested become, at once, +the partisans of George Sand or the partisans of Musset. The two parties +only agree on one point, and that is, to throw all the blame on the +client favoured by their adversary. I must confess that I cannot take +a passionate interest in a discussion, the subject of which we cannot +properly judge. According to _Mussetistes_, it was thanks to George +Sand that the young poet was reduced to the despair which drove him to +debauchery. On the other hand, if we are to believe the _Sandistes_, +George Sand's one idea in interesting herself in Musset was to rescue +him from debauchery and convert him to a better life. I listen to all +such pious interpretations, but I prefer others for myself. I prefer +seeing the physiognomy of each of the two lovers standing out, as it +does, in powerful relief. + +It is the custom, too, to pity these two unfortunates, who suffered so +much. At the risk of being taken for a very heartless man, I must own +that I do not pity them much. The two lovers wished for this suffering, +they wanted to experience the incomparable sensations of it, and they +got enjoyment and profit from this. They knew that they were working for +posterity. "Posterity will repeat our names like those of the immortal +lovers whose two names are only one at present, like Romeo and Juliette, +like Heloise and Abelard. People will never speak of one of us without +speaking of the other." + +Juliette died at the age of fifteen and Heloise entered a convent. The +Venice lovers did not have to pay for their celebrity as dearly as +that. They wanted to give an example, to light a torch on the road of +humanity. "People shall know my story," writes George Sand. "I will +write it. . . . Those who follow along the path I trod will see where it +leads." _Et nunc erudimini_. Let us see for ourselves, and learn. + +Their _liaison_ dates from August, 1833. + +George Sand was twenty-nine years of age. It was the time of her +greatest charm. We must try to imagine the enchantress as she then +was. She was not tall and she was delightfully slender, with an +extraordinary-looking face of dark, warm colouring. Her thick hair was +very dark, and her eyes, her large eyes, haunted Musset for years after. + + "_Ote-moi, memoire importune_, + _Ote-moi ces yeux que je vois toujours!_" + +he writes. + + +And this woman, who could have been loved passionately, merely for her +charm as a woman, was a celebrity! She was a woman of genius! Alfred de +Musset was twenty-three years old. He was elegant, witty, a flirt, and +when he liked he could be irresistible. He had won his reputation by +that explosion of gaiety and imagination, _Les Contes d'Espagne el +d'Italle_. He had written some fine poetry, dreamy, disturbing and +daring. He had also given _Les Caprices de Marianne_, in which he +figures twice over himself, for he was both Octave the sceptic, the +disillusioned man, and Coelio, the affectionate, candid Coelio. He +imagined himself Rolla. It was he, and he alone, who should have been +styled the sublime boy. + +And so here they both are. We might call them Lelia and Stenio, but +_Lelia_ was written before the Venice adventure. She was not the +reflection of it, but rather the presentiment. This is worthy of notice, +but not at all surprising. Literature sometimes imitates reality, but +how much more often reality is modelled on literature! + +It was as though George Sand had foreseen her destiny, for she had +feared to meet Musset. On the 11th of March, she writes as follows to +Sainte-Beuve: "On second thoughts, I do not want you to bring Alfred de +Musset. He is a great dandy. We should not suit each other, and I was +really more curious to see him than interested in him." A little later +on, though, at a dinner at the _Freres provencaux_, to which Buloz +invited his collaborators, George Sand found herself next Alfred de +Musset. She invited him to call on her, and when _Lelia_ was published +she sent him a copy, with the following dedication written in the first +volume: _A Monsieur mon gamin d'Allred_; and in the second volume: _A +Monsieur le vicomte Allred de Musset, hommage respectueux de son devoue +serviteur George Sand_. Musset replied by giving his opinion of the new +book. Among the letters which followed, there is one that begins with +these words: "My dear George, I have something silly and ridiculous to +tell you. I am foolishly writing, instead of telling you, as I ought to +have done, after our walk. I am heartbroken to-night that I did not tell +you. You will laugh at me, and you will take me for a man who simply +talks nonsense. You will show me the door, and fancy that I am not +speaking the truth. . . . I am in love with you. . . ." + +She did not laugh at him, though, and she did not show him the door. +Things did not drag on long, evidently, as she writes to her confessor, +Sainte-Beuve, on the 25th of August: "I have fallen in love, and very +seriously this time, with Alfred de Musset." How long was this to +last? She had no idea, but for the time being she declared that she was +absolutely happy. + +"I have found a candour, a loyalty and an affection which delight me. It +is the love of a young man and the friendship of a comrade." There was +a honeymoon in the little flat looking on the Quay Malaquals. Their +friends shared the joy of the happy couple, as we see by Musset's +frolicsome lines: + + _George est dans sa chambrette, + Entre deux pots de fleurs, + Fumiant sa cigarette, + Les yeux baignes de pleurs._ + + _Buloz assis par terre + Lui fait de doux serments, + Solange par derriere + Gribouille ses romans._ + + _Plante commme une borne_, + _Boucoiran tout crott_, + _Contemple d'un oeil morne_ + _Musset tout debraille, etc._ + +It is evident that, as poetry, this does not equal the _Nuits._ + +In the autumn they went for a honeymoon trip to Fontainebleau. It was +there that the strange scene took place which is mentioned in _Elle +et Lui_. One evening when they were in the forest, Musset had an +extraordinary hallucination, which he has himself described: + + _Dans tin bois, sur une bruyere, + Au pied d'un arbre vint s'asseoir + Un jeune homme vetu de noir + Qui me ressemblail comme un frere._ + + _Le lui demandais mon chemin, + Il tenait un luth d'ue main, + De l'autre un bouquet d'eglantine. + Il me fit tin salut d'ami + Et, se detournant a demu, + Me montra du doigt la colline._ + +He really saw this "double," dressed in black, which was to visit him +again later on. His _Nuit de decembre_ was written from it. + +They now wanted to see Italy together. Musset had already written on +Venice; he now wanted to go there. Madame de Musset objected to this, +but George Sand promised so sincerely that she would be a mother to the +young man that finally his own mother gave her consent. On the evening +of December 12, 1833, Paul de Musset accompanied the two travellers to +the mail-coach. On the boat from Lyons to Avignon they met with a big, +intelligent-looking man. This was Beyle-Stendhal, who was then Consul at +Civita-Vecchia. He was on his way to his post. They enjoyed his lively +conversation, although he made fun of their illusions about Italy and +the Italian character. He made fun, though, of everything and of every +one, and they felt that he was only being witty and trying to appear +unkind. At dinner he drank too much, and finished by dancing round the +table in his great fur-lined boots. Later on he gave them some specimens +of his obscene conversation, so that they were glad to continue their +journey without him. + +On the 28th the travellers reached Florence. The aspect of this city and +his researches in the _Chroniques florentines_ supplied the poet with +the subject for _Lorenzaccio_. It appears that George Sand and Musset +each treated this subject, and that a _Lorenzaccio_ by George Sand +exists. I have not read it, but I prefer Musset's version. They reached +Venice on January 19, 1834, and put up at the Hotel Danieli. By this +time they were at loggerheads. + +The cause of their quarrel and disagreement is not really known, and the +activity of retrospective journalists has not succeeded in finding this +out. George Sand's letters only give details about their final quarrel. +On arriving, George Sand was ill, and this exasperated Musset. He was +annoyed, and declared that a woman out of sorts was very trying. There +are good reasons for believing that he had found her very trying for +some time. He was very elegant and she a learned "white blackbird." +He was capricious and she a placid, steady _bourgeois_ woman, very +hard-working and very regular in the midst of her irregularity. He used +to call her "personified boredom, the dreamer, the silly woman, the +nun," when he did not use terms which we cannot transcribe. The climax +was when he said to her: "I was mistaken, George, and I beg your pardon, +for I do not love you." + +Wounded and offended, she replied: "We do not love each other any +longer, and we never really loved each other." + +They therefore took back their independence. This is a point to note, +as George Sand considered this fact of the greatest importance, and she +constantly refers to it. She was from henceforth free, as regarded her +companion. + +Illness kept them now at Venice. George Sand's illness first and then +Musset's alarming malady. He had high fever, accompanied by chest +affection and attacks of delirium which lasted six consecutive hours, +during which it took four men to hold him. + + +George Sand was an admirable nurse. This must certainly be acknowledged. +She sat up with him at night and she nursed him by day, and, astonishing +woman that she was, she was also able to work and to earn enough to pay +their common expenses. This is well known, but I am able to give another +proof of it, in the letters which George Sand wrote from Venice to +Buloz. These letters have been communicated to me by Madame Pailleron, +_nee_ Buloz, and by Madame Landouzy, _veuve_ Buloz, whom I thank for +the public and for myself. The following are a few of the essential +passages: + + +"February 4. _Read this when you are alone._ + +"MY DEAR BULOZ,--Your reproaches reach me at a miserable moment. If you +have received my letter, you already know that I do not deserve them. +A fortnight ago I was well again and working. Alfred was working too, +although he was not very well and had fits of feverishness. About five +days ago we were both taken ill, almost at the same time. I had an +attack of dysentery, which caused me horrible suffering. I have not yet +recovered from it, but I am strong enough, anyhow, to nurse him. He was +seized with a nervous and inflammatory fever, which has made such rapid +progress that the doctor tells me he does not know what to think about +it. We must wait for the thirteenth or fourteenth day before knowing +whether his life is in danger. And what will this thirteenth or +fourteenth day be? Perhaps his last one? I am in despair, overwhelmed +with fatigue, suffering horribly, and awaiting who knows what future? +How can I give myself up to literature or to anything in the world at +such a time? I only know that our entire fortune, at present, consists +of sixty francs, that we shall have to spend an enormous amount at the +chemist's, for the nurse and doctor, and that we are at a very expensive +hotel. We were just about to leave it and go to a private house. Alfred +cannot be moved now, and even if everything should go well, he probably +cannot be moved for a month. We shall have to pay one term's rent for +nothing, and we shall return to France, please God. If my ill-luck +continues, and if Alfred should die, I can assure you that I do not care +what happens after to me. If God allows Alfred to recover, I do not +know how we shall pay the expenses of his illness and of his return to +France. The thousand francs that you are to send me will not suffice, +and I do not know what we shall do. At any rate, do not delay sending +that, as, by the time it arrives, it will be more than necessary. I am +sorry about the annoyance you are having with the delay for publishing, +but you can now judge whether it is my fault. If only Alfred had a few +quiet days, I could soon finish my work. But he is in a frightful state +of delirium and restlessness. I cannot leave him an instant. I have been +nine hours writing this letter. Adieu, my friend, and pity me. + +"GEORGE. + +"Above everything, do not tell any one, not any one in the world, that +Alfred is ill. If his mother heard (and it only needs two persons for +telling a secret to all Paris) she would go mad. If she has to be told, +let who will undertake to tell her, but if in a fortnight Alfred is out +of danger, it is useless for her to grieve now. Adieu." + + +"February 13, 1834. + +"My friend, Alfred is saved. There has been no fresh attack, and we +have nearly reached the fourteenth day without the improvement having +altered. After the brain affection inflammation of the lungs declared +itself, and this rather alarmed us for two days. . . . He is extremely +weak at present, and he wanders occasionally. He has to be nursed night +and day. Do not imagine, therefore, that I am only making pretexts for +the delay in my work. I have not undressed for eight nights. I sleep on +a sofa, and have to get up at any minute. In spite of this, ever since +I have been relieved in my mind about the danger, I have been able to +write a few pages in the mornings while he is resting. You may be sure +that I should like to be able to take advantage of this time to rest +myself. Be assured, my friend, that I am not short of courage, nor yet +of the will to work. You are not more anxious than I am that I should +carry out my engagements. You know that a debt makes me smart like a +wound. But you are friend enough to make allowances for my situation and +not to leave me in difficulties. I am spending very wretched days here +at this bedside, for the slightest sound, the slightest movement causes +me constant terror. In this disposition of mind I shall not write any +light works. They will be heavy, on the contrary, like my fatigue and my +sadness. + +"Do not leave me without money, I beseech you, or I do not know what +will happen to me. I spend about twenty francs a day in medicine of all +sorts. We do not know how to keep him alive. . . ." + + +These letters give the lie to some of the gossip that has been spread +abroad with regard to the episode of the Hotel Danieli. And I too, +thanks to these letters, shall have put an end to a legend! In the +second volume of Wladimir Karenine's work on George Sand, on page 61, we +have the following words-- + +"Monsieur Plauchut tells us that, according to Buloz, Musset had been +enticed into a gambling hell during his stay in Venice, and had lost +about four hundred pounds there. The imprudent young man could not pay +this debt of honour, and he never would have been able to do so. He had +to choose between suicide or dishonour. George Sand did not hesitate a +moment. She wrote at once to the manager of the _Revue_, asking him to +advance the money." And this debt was on her shoulders for a long time. + +The facts of the case are as follows, according to a letter from George +Sand to Buloz: "I beseech you, as a favour, to pay Alfred's debt and to +write to him that it is all settled. You cannot imagine the impatience +and the disturbance that this little matter cause him. He speaks to me +of it every minute, and begs me every day to write to you about it. He +owes these three hundred and sixty francs (L14 8_s_.) to a young man +he knows very little and who might talk of it to people. . . . You have +already advanced much larger sums to him. He has always paid you back, +and you are not afraid that this would make you bankrupt. If, through +his illness, he should not be able to work for a long time, my work +could be used for that, so be at ease. . . . Do this, I beseech you, and +write him a short letter to ease his mind at once. I will then read it +to him, and this will pacify one of the torments of his poor head. Oh, +my friend, if you only knew what this delirium is like! What sublime and +awful things he has said, and then what convulsions and shouts! I do not +know how he has had strength enough to pull through and how it is that I +have not gone mad myself. Adieu, adieu, my friend." + +There really was a gambling debt, then, but we do not know exactly where +it was contracted. It amounted to three hundred and sixty francs, +which is very different from the ten thousand francs and the threat of +suicide. + +And now we come to the pure folly! Musset had been attended by a young +doctor, Pietro Pagello. He was a straightforward sort of young man, +of rather slow intelligence, without much conversation, not speaking +French, but very handsome. George Sand fell in love with him. One night, +after having scribbled a letter of three pages, she put it into an +envelope without any address and gave it to Pagello. He asked her to +whom he was to give the letter. George Sand took the envelope back and +wrote on it: "To stupid Pagello." We have this declaration, and among +other things in the letter are the following lines: "You will not +deceive me, anyhow. You will not make any idle promises and false +vows. . . . I shall not, perhaps, find in you what I have sought for in +others, but, at any rate, I can always believe that you possess it. +. . . I shall be able to interpret your meditations and make your silence +speak eloquently. . . ." This shows us clearly the kind of charm George +Sand found in Pagello. She loved him because he was stupid. + +The next questions are, when did they become lovers, and how did Musset +discover their intimacy? It is quite certain that he suspected it, +and that he made Pagello confess his love for George Sand.(20) A most +extraordinary scene then took place between the three of them, according +to George Sand's own account. "Adieu, then," she wrote to Musset, later +on, "adieu to the fine poem of our sacred friendship and of that ideal +bond formed between the three of us, when you dragged from him the +confession of his love for me and when he vowed to you that he would +make me happy. Oh, that night of enthusiasm, when, in spite of us, you +joined our hands, saying: 'You love each other and yet you love me, +for you have saved me, body and soul." Thus, then, Musset had solemnly +abjured his love for George Sand, he had engaged his mistress of the +night before to a new lover, and was from henceforth to be their best +friend. Such was the ideal bond, such the sacred friendship! This may be +considered the romantic escapade. + + (20) On one of George Sand's unpublished letters to Buloz + the following lines are written in the handwriting of Buloz: + + "In the morning on getting up he discovered, in an adjoining + room, a tea-table still set, but with only one cup. + + "'Did you have tea yesterday evening?' + + "'Yes,' answered George Sand, 'I had tea with the doctor.' + + "'Ah, how is it that there is only one cup?' + + "'The other has been taken away.' + + "'No, nothing has been taken away. You drank out of the + same cup.' + + "'Even if that were so, you have no longer the right to + trouble about such things.' + + "'I have the right, as I am still supposed to be your lover. + You ought at least to show me respect, and, as I am leaving + in three days, you might wait until I have gone to do as you + like.' + + "The night following this scene Musset discovered George + Sand, crouching on her bed, writing a letter. + + "'What are you doing?' he asked. + + "'I am reading,' she replied, and she blew out the candle. + + "'If you are reading, why do you put the candle out?' + + "'It went out itself: light it again.' + + "Alfred de Musset lit it again. + + "'Ah, so you were reading, and you have no book. Infamous + woman, you might as well say that you are writing to your + lover.' George Sand had recourse to her usual threat of + leaving the house. Alfred de Musset read her up: 'You are + thinking of a horrible plan. You want to hurry off to your + doctor, pretend that I am mad and that your life is in + danger. You will not leave this room. I will keep you from + anything so base. If you do go, I will put such an epitaph + on your grave that the people who read it will turn pale,' + said Alfred with terrible energy. + + "George Sand was trembling and crying. + + "'I no longer love you,' Alfred said scoffingly to George + Sand. + + "'It is the right moment to take your poison or to go and + drown yourself.' + + "Confession to Alfred of her secret about the doctor. + Reconciliation. Alfred's departure. George Sand's + affectionate and enthusiastic letters." + + Such are the famous episodes of the _tea-cup_ and _the + letter_ as Buloz heard them told at the time. + +Musset returned in March, 1834, leaving George Sand with Pagello in +Venice. The sentimental exaggeration continued, as we see from the +letters exchanged between Musset and George Sand. When crossing +the Simplon the immutable grandeur of the Alps struck Alusset with +admiration, and he thought of his two "great friends." His head was +evidently turned by the heights from which he looked at things. George +Sand wrote to him: "I am not giving you any message from Pagello, +except that he is almost as sad as I am at your absence." "He is a fine +fellow," answered Musset. "Tell him how much I like him, and that my +eyes fill with tears when I think of him." Later on he writes: "When I +saw Pagello, I recognized in him the better side of my own nature, +but pure and free from the irreparable stains which have ruined mine." +"Always treat me like that," writes Musset again. "It makes me feel +proud. My dear friend, the woman who talks of her new lover in this way +to the one she has given up, but who still loves her, gives him a proof +of the greatest esteem that a man can receive from a woman. . . ." That +romanticism which made a drama of the situation in _L'Ecole des Femmes_, +and another one out of that in the _Precieuses ridicules_, excels in +taking tragically situations that belong to comedy and in turning them +into the sublime. + +Meanwhile George Sand had settled down in Venice with Pagello--and with +all the family, all the Pagello tribe, with the brother, the sister, to +say nothing of the various rivals who came and made scenes. It was the +vulgar, ordinary platitude of an Italian intimacy of this kind. In spite +of everything, she continued congratulating herself on her choice. + +"I have my love, my stay here with me. He never suffers, for he is never +weak or suspicious. . . . He is calm and good. . . . He loves me and is +at peace; he is happy without my having to suffer, without my having to +make efforts for his happiness. . . . As for me, I must suffer for some +one. It is just this suffering which nurtures my maternal solicitude, +etc. . . ." She finally begins to weary of her dear Pagello's stupidity. +It occurred to her to take him with her to Paris, and that was the +climax. There are some things which cannot be transplanted from one +country to another. When they had once set foot in Paris, the absurdity +of their situation appeared to them. + +"From the moment that Pagello landed in France," says George Sand, "he +could not understand anything." The one thing that he was compelled to +understand was that he was no longer wanted. He was simply pushed out. +George Sand had a remarkable gift for bringing out the characteristics +of the persons with whom she had any intercourse. This Pagello, thanks +to his adventure with her, has become in the eyes of the world a +personage as comic as one of Moliere's characters. + +Musset and George Sand still cared for each other. He beseeched her +to return to him. "I am good-for-nothing," he says, "for I am simply +steeped in my love for you. I do not know whether I am alive, whether I +eat, drink, or breathe, but I know I am in love." George Sand was afraid +to return to him, and Sainte-Beuve forbade her. Love proved stronger +than all other arguments, however, and she yielded. + +As soon as she was with him once more, their torture commenced again, +with all the customary complaints, reproaches and recriminations. "I was +quite sure that all these reproaches would begin again immediately after +the happiness we had dreamed of and promised each other. Oh, God, to +think that we have already arrived at this!" she writes. + +What tortured them was that the past, which they had believed to be "a +beautiful poem," now seemed to them a hideous nightmare. All this, we +read, was a game that they were playing. A cruel sort of game, of which +Musset grew more and more weary, but which to George Sand gradually +became a necessity. We see this, as from henceforth it was she who +implored Musset. In her diary, dated December 24, 1834, we read: "And +what if I rushed to him when my love is too strong for me. What if I +went and broke the bell-pull with ringing, until he opened his door to +me. Or if I lay down across the threshold until he came out!" She cut +off her magnificent hair and sent it to him. Such was the way in which +this proud woman humbled herself. She was a prey to love, which seemed +to her a holy complaint. It was a case of Venus entirely devoted to her +prey. The question is, was this really love? "I no longer love you," she +writes, "but I still adore you. I do not want you any more, but I cannot +do without you." They had the courage to give each other up finally in +March, 1835. + +It now remains for us to explain the singularity of this adventure, +which, as a matter of fact, was beyond all logic, even the logic of +passion. It is, however, readily understood, if we treat it as a case +of acute romanticism, the finest case of romanticism, that has been +actually lived, which the history of letters offers us. + +The romanticism consists first in exposing one's life to the public, in +publishing one's most secret joys and sorrows. From the very beginning +George Sand and Musset took the whole circle of their friends into their +confidence. These friends were literary people. George Sand specially +informs Sainte-Beuve that she wishes her sentimental life from +thenceforth to be known. They were quite aware that they were on show, +as it were, subjects of an experiment that would be discussed by "the +gallery." + +Romanticism consists next in the writer putting his life into his +books, making literature out of his emotions. The idea of putting their +adventure into a story occurred to the two lovers before the adventure +had come to an end. It was at Venice that George Sand wrote her first +_Lettres d'un voyageur_, addressed to the poet--and to the subscribers +of the _Revue des Deux Mondes_. Musset, to improve on this idea, decides +to write a novel from the episode which was still unfinished. "I will +not die," he says, "until I have written my book on you and on myself, +more particularly on you. No, my beautiful, holy fiancee, you shall not +return to this cold earth before it knows the woman who has walked on +it. No, I swear this by my youth and genius." Musset's contributions to +this literature were _Confession d'un enfant du siecle_, _Histoire d'un +merle blanc_, _Elle et Lui_, and all that followed. + +In an inverse order, romanticism consists in putting literature into our +life, in taking the latest literary fashion for our rule of action. This +is not only a proof of want of taste; it is a most dangerous mistake. +The romanticists, who had so many wrong ideas, had none more erroneous +than their idea of love, and in the correspondence between George Sand +and Musset we see the paradox in all its beauty. It consists in saying +that love leads to virtue and that it leads there through change. +Whether the idea came originally from _her_ or from _him_, this was +their common faith. + +"You have said it a hundred times over," writes George Sand, "and it +is all in vain that you retract; nothing will now efface that sentence: +'Love is the only thing in the world that counts.' It may be that it +is a divine faculty which we lose and then find again, that we must +cultivate, or that we have to buy with cruel suffering, with painful +experience. The suffering you have endured through loving me was perhaps +destined, in order that you might love another woman more easily. +Perhaps the next woman may love you less than I do, and yet she may be +more happy and more beloved. There are such mysteries in these things, +and God urges us along new and untrodden paths. Give in; do not attempt +to resist. He does not desert His privileged ones. He takes them by the +hand and places them in the midst of the sandbanks, where they are to +learn to live, in order that they may sit down at the banquet at which +they are to rest. . . ." Later on she writes as follows: "Do you imagine +that one love affair, or even two, can suffice for exhausting or taking +the freshness from a strong soul? I believed this, too, for a long +time, but I know now that it is quite the contrary. Love is a fire that +endeavours to rise and to purify itself. Perhaps the more we have failed +in our endeavours to find it, the more apt we become to discover it, and +the more we have been obliged to change, the more conservative we +shall become. Who knows? It is perhaps the terrible, magnificent and +courageous work of a whole lifetime. It is a crown of thorns which will +blossom and be covered with roses when our hair begins to turn white." + +This was pure frenzy, and yet there were two beings ready to drink in +all this pathos, two living beings to live out this monstrous chimera. +Such are the ravages that a certain conception of literature may make. +By the example we have of these two illustrious victims, we may imagine +that there were others, and very many others, obscure and unknown +individuals, but human beings all the same, who were equally duped. +There are unwholesome fashions in literature, which, translated into +life, mean ruin. The Venice adventure shows up the truth of this in +bright daylight. This is its interest and its lesson. + + + + +V + +THE FRIEND OF MICHEL (DE BOURGES) + +LISZT AND COMTESSE D'AGOULT. _MAUPRAT_ + + +We have given the essential features of the Venice adventure. The love +affair, into which George Sand and Musset had put so much literature, +was to serve literature. Writers of the romantic school are given to +making little songs with their great sorrows. When the correspondence +between George Sand and Musset appeared, every one was surprised to +find passages that were already well known. Such passages had already +appeared in the printed work of the poet or of the authoress. An idea, +a word, or an illustration used by the one was now, perhaps, to be found +in the work of the other one. + +"It is I who have lived," writes George Sand, "and not an unreal being +created by my pride and my _ennui_." We all know the use to which Musset +put this phrase. He wrote the famous couplet of Perdican with it: "All +men are untruthful, inconstant, false, chatterers, hypocritical, proud, +cowardly, contemptible and sensual; all women are perfidious, artful, +vain, inquisitive and depraved. . . . There is, though, in this world +one thing which is holy and sublime. It is the union of these two +beings, imperfect and frightful as they are. We are often deceived in +our love; we are often wounded and often unhappy, but still we love, and +when we are on the brink of the tomb we shall turn round, look back, +and say to ourselves: 'I have often suffered, I have sometimes been +deceived, but I have loved. It is I who have lived, and not an unreal +being created by my pride and _ennui_.'" Endless instances of this kind +could be given. They are simply the sign of the reciprocal influence +exercised over each other by George Sand and Musset, an influence to be +traced through all their work. + +This influence was of a different kind and of unequal degree. It was +George Sand who first made literature of their common recollections. +Some of these recollections were very recent ones and were impregnated +with tears. The two lovers had only just separated when George Sand made +the excursion described in the first _Lettre d'un voyageur_. She goes +along the Brenta. It is the month of May, and the meadows are in flower. +In the horizon she sees the snowy peaks of the Tyrolese Alps standing +out. The remembrance of the long hours spent at the invalid's bedside +comes back to her, with all the anguish of the sacred passion in which +she thinks she sees God's anger. She then pays a visit to the Oliero +grottoes, and once more her wounded love makes her heart ache. She +returns through Possagno, whose beautiful women served as models for +Canova. She then goes back to Venice, and the doctor gives her a letter +from the man she has given up, the man she has sent away. These poetical +descriptions, alternating with lyrical effusions, this kind of dialogue +with two voices, one of which is that of nature and the other that of +the heart, remind us of one of Musset's _Nuits_. + +The second of these _Lettres d'un voyageur_ is entirely descriptive. It +is spring-time in Venice. The old balconies are gay with flowers; the +nightingales stop singing to listen to the serenades. There are songs +to be heard at every street corner, music in the wake of every gondola. +There are sweet perfumes and love-sighs in the air. The delights of the +Venetian nights had never been described like this. The harmony of "the +three elements, water, sky and marble," had never been better expressed, +and the charm of Venice had never been suggested in so subtle and, +penetrating a manner. The second letter treats too of the gondoliers, +and of their habits and customs. + +The third letter, telling us about the nobility and the women of Venice, +completes the impression. Just as the Pyrenees had moved George Sand, so +Italy now moved her. This was a fresh acquisition for her palette. More +than once from henceforth Venice was to serve her for the wonderful +scenery of her stories. This is by no means a fresh note, though, in +George Sand's work. There is no essential difference, then, in her +inspiration. She had always been impressionable, but her taste was +now getting purer. Musset, the most romantic of French poets, had an +eminently classical taste. In the _Lettres de Dupuis et Cotonet_, he +defined romanticism as an abuse of adjectives. He was of Madame de +Lafayette's opinion, that a word taken out was worth twenty pennies, and +a phrase taken out twenty shillings. In a copy of _Indiana_ he crossed +out all the useless epithets. This must have made a considerable +difference to the length of the book. George Sand was too broad-minded +to be hurt by such criticism, and she was intelligent enough to learn a +lesson from it. + +Musset's transformation was singularly deeper. When he started for +Venice, he was the youngest and most charming of poets, fanciful and +full of fun. "Monsieur mon gamin d'Alfred," George Sand called him at +that time. When he returned from there, he was the saddest of poets. For +some time he was, as it were, stunned. His very soul seemed to be bowed +down with his grief. He was astonished at the change he felt in himself, +and he did not by any means court any fresh inspiration. + + _J'ai vu, le temps ou ma jeunesse_ + _Sur mes levres etait sans cesse_ + _Prete a chanter comme un oiseau;_ + _Mais j'ai souffert un dur martyre_ + _Et le moins que j'en pourrais dire_, + _Si je lessayais sur a lyre_, + _La briserait comme un roseau_, + +he writes. + +In the _Nuit de Mai_, the earliest of these songs of despair, we have +the poet's symbol of the pelican giving its entrails as food to its +starving young. The only symbols that we get in this poetry are symbols +of sadness, and these are at times given in magnificent fulness of +detail. We have solitude in the _Nuit de decembre_, and the labourer +whose house has been burnt in the _Lettre a Lamartine_. The _Nuit +d'aout_ gives proof of a wild effort to give life another trial, but in +the _Auit d'octobre_ anger gets the better of him once more. + + _Honte a toi, qui la premiere + M'as appris la trahison . . . !_ + +The question has often been asked whether the poet refers here to the +woman he loved in Venice but it matters little whether he did or not. +He only saw her through the personage who from henceforth symbolized +"woman" to him and the suffering which she may cause a man. And yet, as +this suffering became less intense, softened as it was by time, he began +to discover the benefit of it. His soul had expanded, so that he was now +in communion with all that is great in Nature and in Art. The harmony +of the sky, the silence of night, the murmur of flowing water, Petrarch, +Michel Angelo, Shakespeare, all appealed to him. The day came when he +could write: + + _Un souvenir heureux est peut-etre sur terre + Plus vrai que le bonheur_. + +This is the only philosophy for a conception of life which treats love +as everything for man. He not only pardons now, but he is grateful: + + _Je ne veux rien savoir, ni si les champs fleurissent, + Nice quil adviendra di., simulacre humain, + Ni si ces vastes cieux eclaireront demain + Ce qu' ils ensevelissent heure, en ce lieu, + Je me dis seulement: a cette + Un jour, je fus aime, j'aimais, elle etait belle, + Jenfouis ce tresor dans mon ame immortelle + Et je l'em porte a Dieu._ + +This love poem, running through all he wrote from the _Nuit de Mai_ +to the _Souvenir_, is undoubtedly the most beautiful and the most +profoundly human of anything in the French language. The charming poet +had become a great poet. That shock had occurred within him which is +felt by the human being to the very depths of his soul, and makes of him +a new creature. It is in this sense that the theory of the romanticists, +with regard to the educative virtues of suffering, is true. But it is +not only suffering in connection with our love affairs which has this +special privilege. After some misfortune which uproots, as it were, our +life, after some disappointment which destroys our moral edifice, the +world appears changed to us. The whole network of accepted ideas and +of conventional opinions is broken asunder. We find ourselves in direct +contact with reality, and the shock makes our true nature come to the +front. . . . Such was the crisis through which Musset had just passed. +The man came out of it crushed and bruised, but the poet came through it +triumphant. + +It has been insisted on too much that George Sand was only the +reflection of the men who had approached her. In the case of Musset +it was the contrary. Musset owed her more than she owed to him. She +transformed him by the force of her strong individuality. She, on the +contrary, only found in Musset a child, and what she was seeking was a +dominator. + +She thought she had discovered him this very year 1835. + +The sixth _Lettre d'un voyageur_ was addressed to Everard. This Everard +was considered by her to be a superior man. He was so much above the +average height that George Sand advised him to sit down when he was with +other men, as when standing he was too much above them. She compares him +to Atlas carrying the world, and to Hercules in a lion's skin. But among +all her comparisons, when she is seeking to give the measure of his +superiority, without ever really succeeding in this, it is evident +that the comparison she prefers is that of Marius at Minturnae. He +personifies virtue a _l'antique:_ he is the Roman. + +Let us now consider to whom all this flattery was addressed, and who +this man, worthy of Plutarch's pen, was. His name was Michel, and he was +an advocate at Bourges. He was only thirty-seven years of age, but he +looked sixty. After Sandeau and Musset, George Sand had had enough of +"adolescents." She was very much struck with Michel, as he looked like +an old man. The size of his cranium was remarkable, or, as she said of +his craniums: "It seemed as though he had two craniums, one joined to +the other." She wrote: "The signs of the superior faculties of his mind +were as prominent at the prow of this strong vessel as those of his +generous instincts at the stern."(21) In order to understand this +definition of the "fine physique" by George Sand, we must remember that +she was very much taken up with phrenology at this time. One of her +_Lettres d'un voyageur_ was entitled Sur _Lavater et sur une Maison +deserte_. In a letter to Madame d'Agoult, George Sand tells that her +gardener gave notice to leave, and, on asking him his reason, the +simple-minded man replied: "Madame has such an ugly head that my wife, +who is expecting, might die of fright." The head in question was a +skull, an anatomical one with compartments all marked and numbered, +according to the system of Gall and Spurzheim. In 1837, phrenology was +very much in favour. In 1910, it is hypnotism, so we have no right to +judge the infatuation of another epoch. + + (21) _Histoire de ma vie_. + +Michel's cranium was bald. He was short, slight, he stooped, was +short-sighted and wore glasses. It is George Sand who gives these +details for his portrait. He was born of peasant parents, and was of +Jacobin simplicity. He wore a thick, shapeless inverness and sabots. He +felt the cold very much, and used to ask permission to put on a muffler +indoors. He would then take three or four out of his pockets and put +them on his head, one over the other. In the _Lettre d'un voyageur_ +George Sand mentions this crown on Everard's head. Such are the +illusions of love. + +The first time she met Michel was at Bourges. She went with her two +friends, Papet and Fleury, to call on him at the hotel. From seven +o'clock until midnight he never ceased talking. It was a magnificent +night, and he proposed a walk in the town at midnight. When they came +back to his door he insisted on taking them home, and so they continued +walking backwards and forwards until four in the morning. He must have +been an inveterate chatterer to have clung to this public of three +persons at an hour when the great buildings, with the moon throwing its +white light over them and everything around, must have suggested the +majesty of silence. To people who were amazed at this irrepressible +eloquence, Michel answered ingenuously: "Talking is thinking aloud. +By thinking aloud in this way I advance more quickly than if I thought +quietly by myself." This was Numa Roumestan's idea. "As for me," he +said, "when I am not talking, I am not thinking." As a matter of fact, +Michel, like Numa, was a native of Provence. In Paris there was a +repetition of this nocturnal and roving scene. Michel and his friends +had come to a standstill on the Saints-Peres bridge. They caught sight +of the Tuileries lighted up for a ball. Michel became excited, and, +striking the innocent bridge and its parapet with his stick, he +exclaimed: "I tell you that if you are to freshen and renew your corrupt +society, this beautiful river will first have to be red with blood, that +accursed palace will have to be reduced to ashes, and the huge city you +are now looking at will have to be a bare strand where the family of the +poor man can use the plough and build a cottage home." + +This was a fine phrase for a public meeting, but perhaps too fine for a +conversation between friends on the Saints-Peres bridge. + +This was in 1835, at the most brilliant moment of Michel's career. It +was when he was taking part in the trial of the accused men of April. +After the insurrections of the preceding year at Lyons and Paris, a +great trial had commenced before the Chamber of Peers. We are told +that: "The Republican party was determined to make use of the +cross-questioning of the prisoners for accusing the Government and for +preaching Republicanism and Socialism. The idea was to invite a hundred +and fifty noted Republicans to Paris from all parts of France. In +their quality of defenders, they would be the orators of this great +manifestation." Barb'es, Blanqui, Flocon, Marie, Raspail, Trelat and +Michel of Bourges were among these Republicans. "On the 11th of May, the +revolutionary newspapers published a manifesto in which the committee +for the defence congratulated and encouraged the accused men. One +hundred and ten signatures were affixed to this document, which was a +forgery. It had been drawn up by a few of the upholders of the scheme, +and, in order to make it appear more important, they had affixed the +names of their colleagues without their authorization. Those who had +done this then took fright, and attempted to get out of the dangerous +adventure by a public avowal. In order to save the situation, two of the +guilty party, Trelat and Michel of Bourges, took the responsibility of +the drawing up of the manifesto and the apposition of the signatures +upon themselves. They were sentenced by the Court of Peers, Trelat +to four years of prison and Michel to a month."(22) This was the most +shocking inequality, and Michel could not forgive Trelat for getting +such a fine sentence. + + (22) Thureau Dangin, _Histoire de la Monarchie de Juillet_, + II. 297. + +What good was one month of prison? Michel's career certainly had been a +very ordinary one. He hesitated and tacked about. In a word, he was just +a politician. George Sand tells us that he was obliged "to accept, +in theory, what he called the necessities of pure politics, ruse, +charlatanism and even untruth, concessions that were not sincere, +alliances in which he did not believe, and vain promises." We should say +that he was a radical opportunist. To be merely an opportunist, though, +is not enough for ensuring success. There are different ways of being an +opportunist. Michel had been elected a Deputy, but he had no _role_ to +play. In 1848, he could not compete with the brilliancy of Raspail, nor +had he the prestige of Flocon. He went into the shade completely after +the _coup d'etat_. For a long time he had really preferred business +to politics, and a choice must be made when one is not a member of the +Government. + +It is easy to see what charmed George Sand in Michel. He was a +sectarian, and she took him for an apostle. He was brutal, and she +thought him energetic. He had been badly brought up, but she thought him +simply austere. He was a tyrant, but she only saw in him a master. He +had told her that he would have her guillotined at the first possible +opportunity. This was an incontestable proof of superiority. She was +sincere herself, and was consequently not on her guard against vain +boasting. He had alarmed her, and she admired him for this, and at once +incarnated in him that stoical ideal of which she had been dreaming for +years and had not yet been able to attribute to any one else. + +This is how she explained to Michel her reasons for loving him. "I love +you," she says, "because whenever I figure to myself grandeur, wisdom, +strength and beauty, your image rises up before me. No other man has +ever exercised any moral influence over me. My mind, which has always +been wild and unfettered, has never accepted any guidance. . . . You +came, and you have taught me." Then again she says: "It is you whom +I love, whom I have loved ever since I was born, and through all +the phantoms in whom I thought, for a moment, that I had found you." +According to this, it was Michel she loved through Musset. Let us hope +that she was mistaken. + +A whole correspondence exists between George Sand and Michel of Bourges. +Part of it was published not long ago in the _Revue illustree_ under +the title of _Lettres de lemmze_. None of George Sand's letters surpass +these epistles to Michel for fervent passion, beauty of form, and a +kind of superb _impudeur_. Let us take, for instance, this call to +her beloved. George Sand, after a night of work, complains of fatigue, +hunger and cold: "Oh, my lover," she cries, "appear, and, like the earth +on the return of the May sunshine, I should be reanimated, and would +fling off my shroud of ice and thrill with love. The wrinkles of +suffering would disappear from my brow, and I should seem beautiful and +young to you, for I should leap with joy into your iron strong arms. +Come, come, and I shall have strength, health, youth, gaiety, hope. +. . . I will go forth to meet you like the bride of the song, 'to her +well-beloved.'" The Well-beloved to whom this Shulamite would hasten was +a bald-headed provincial lawyer who wore spectacles and three mufflers. +But it appears that his "beauty, veiled and unintelligible to the +vulgar, revealed itself, like that of Jupiter hidden under human form, +to the women whom he loved." + +We must not smile at these mythological comparisons. George Sand had, +as it were, restored for herself that condition of soul to which the +ancient myths are due. A great current of naturalist poetry circulates +through these pages. In Theocritus and in Rousard there are certain +descriptive passages. There is an analogy between them and that image of +the horse which carries George Sand along on her impetuous course. + +"As soon as he catches sight of me, he begins to paw the ground and rear +impatiently. I have trained him to clear a hundred fathoms a second. +The sky and the ground disappear when he bears me along under those long +vaults formed by the apple-trees in blossom. . . . The least sound of my +voice makes him bound like a ball; the smallest bird makes him shudder +and hurry along like a child with no experience. He is scarcely five +years old, and he is timid and restive. His black crupper shines in the +sunshine like a raven's wing." This description has all the relief of an +antique figure. Another time, George Sand tells how she has seen Phoebus +throw off her robe of clouds and rush along radiant into the pure sky. +The following day she writes: "She was eaten by the evil spirits. +The dark sprites from Erebus, riding on sombre-looking clouds, threw +themselves on her, and it was in vain that she struggled." We might +compare these passages with a letter of July 10, 1836, in which she +tells how she throws herself, all dressed as she is, into the Indre, +and then continues her course through the sunny meadows, and with +what voluptuousness she revels in all the joys of primitive life, and +imagines herself living in the beautiful times of ancient Greece. There +are days and pages when George Sand, under the afflux of physical life, +is pagan. Her genius then is that of the greenwood divinities, who, at +certain times of the year, were intoxicated by the odour of the meadows +and the sap of the woods. If some day we were to have her complete +correspondence given to us, I should not be surprised if many people +preferred it to her letters to Musset. In the first place, it is not +spoiled by that preoccupation which the Venice lovers had, of writing +literature. Mingled with the accents of sincere passion, we do not find +extraordinary conceptions of paradoxical metaphysics. It is Nature which +speaks in these letters, and for that very reason they are none the less +sorrowful. They, too, tell us of a veritable martyrdom. We can easily +imagine from them that Michel was coarse, despotic, faithless and +jealous. We know, too, that more than once George Sand came very near +losing all patience with him, so that we can sympathize with her when +she wrote to Madame d'Agoult in July, 1836: + +"I have had, my fill of great men (excuse the expression). . . . I +prefer to see them all in Plutarch, as they would not then cause me any +suffering on the human side. May they all be carved in marble or cast in +bronze, but may I hear no more about them!" _Amen_. + +What disgusted George Sand with her Michel was his vanity and his +craving for adulation. In July, 1837, she had come to the end of her +patience, as she wrote to Girerd. It was one of her peculiarities to +always take a third person into her confidence. At the time of +Sandeau, this third person was Emile Regnault; at the time of Musset, +Sainte-Beuve, and now it was Girerd. "I am tired out with my own +devotion, and I have fought against my pride with all the strength of my +love. I have had nothing but ingratitude and hardness as my recompense. +I have felt my love dying away and my soul being crushed, but I am cured +at last. . . ." If only she had had all this suffering for the sake of a +great man, but this time it was only in imaginary great man. + +The influence, though, that he had had over her thought was real, and in +a certain way beneficial. + +At the beginning she was far from sharing Michel's ideas, and for some +of them she felt an aversion which amounted to horror. The dogma of +absolute equality seemed an absurdity to her. The Republic, or rather +the various republics then in gestation, appeared to her a sort of +Utopia, and as she saw each of her friends making "his own little +Republic" for himself, she had not much faith in the virtue of that form +of government for uniting all French people. One point shocked her above +all others in Michel's theories. This politician did not like artists. +Just as the Revolution did not find chemists necessary, he considered +that the Republic did not need writers, painters and musicians. These +were all useless individuals, and the Republic would give them a little +surprise by putting a labourer's spade or a shoemaker's awl into their +hands. George Sand considered this idea not only barbarous, but silly. + +Time works wonders, for we have an indisputable proof that certain of +his opinions soon became hers. This proof is the Republican catechism +contained in her letters to her son Maurice, who was then twelve years +of age. He was at the Lycee Henri IV, in the same class as the princes +of Orleans. It is interesting to read what his mother says to him +concerning the father of his young school friends. In a letter, written +in December, 1835, she says: "It is certainly true that Louis-Philippe +is the enemy of humanity. . . ." Nothing less than that! A little later, +the enemy of humanity invites the young friends of his son Montpensier +to his _chateau_ for the carnival holiday. Maurice is allowed to +accept the invitation, as he wishes to, but he is to avoid showing +that gratitude which destroys independence. "The entertainments that +Montpensier offers you are favours," writes this mother of the Gracchi +quite gravely. If he is asked about his opinions, the child is to reply +that he is rather too young to have opinions yet, but not too young to +know what opinions he will have when he is free to have them. "You +can reply," says his mother, "that you are Republican by race and +by nature." She then adds a few aphorisms. "Princes are our natural +enemies," she says; and then again: "However good-hearted the child of +a king may be, he is destined to be a tyrant." All this is certainly a +great commotion to make about her little son accepting a glass of fruit +syrup and a few cakes at the house of a schoolfellow. But George Sand +was then under the domination of "Robespierre in person." + +Michel had brought George Sand over to republicanism. Without wishing +to exaggerate the service he had rendered her by this, it appears to +me that it certainly was one, if we look at it in one way. Rightly or +wrongly, George Sand had seen in Michel the man who devotes himself +entirely to a cause of general interest. She had learnt something in +his school, and perhaps all the more thoroughly because it was in his +school. She had learnt that love is in any case a selfish passion. She +had learnt that another object must be given to the forces of sympathy +of a generous heart, and that such an object may be the service of +humanity, devotion to an idea. + +This was a turn in the road, and led the writer on to leave the personal +style for the impersonal style. + +There was another service, too, which Michel had rendered to George +Sand. He had pleaded for her in her petition for separation from her +husband, and she had won her case. + +Ever since George Sand had taken back her independence in 1831, her +intercourse with Dudevant had not been disagreeable. She and her husband +exchanged cordial letters. When he came to Paris, he made no attempt to +stay with his wife, lest he should inconvenience her. "I shall put up +at Hippolyte's," he says in his letter to her. "I do not want to +inconvenience you in the least, nor to be inconvenienced myself, which +is quite natural." He certainly was a most discreet husband. When +she started for Italy, he begs her to take advantage of so good an +opportunity for seeing such a beautiful country. He was also a husband +ready to give good advice. Later on, he invited Pagello to spend a +little time at Nohant. This was certainly the climax in this strange +story. + +During the months, though, that the husband and wife were together, +again at Nohant, the scenes began once more. Dudevant's irritability was +increased by the fact that he was always short of money, and that he was +aware of his own deplorable shortcomings as a financial administrator. +He had made speculations which had been disastrous. He was very +credulous, as so many suspicious people are, and he had been duped by +a swindler in an affair of maritime armaments. He had had all the more +faith in this enterprise because a picture of the boat had been shown +him on paper. He had spent ninety thousand francs of the hundred +thousand he had had, and was now living on his wife's income. Something +had to be decided upon. George Sand paid his debts first, and the +husband and wife then signed an agreement to the effect that their +respective property should be separated. Dudevant regretted having +signed this afterwards, and it was torn up after a violent scene which +took place before witnesses in October, 1835. The pretext of this scene +had been an order given to Maurice. In a series of letters, which have +never hitherto been published, George Sand relates the various incidents +of this affair. We give some of the more important passages. The +following letter is to her half-brother Hippolyte, who used to be +Casimir's drinking companion. + + +_"To Hippolyte Chatiron._ + +"My friend, I am about to tell you some news which will reach you +indirectly, and that you had better hear first from me. Instead of +carrying out our agreement pleasantly and loyally, Casimir is acting +with the most insane animosity towards me. Without my giving him any +reason for such a thing, either by my conduct or my manner of treating +him, he endeavoured to strike me. He was prevented by five persons, one +of whom was Dutheil, and he then fetched his gun to shoot me. As you can +imagine, he was not allowed to do this. + +"On account of such treatment and of his hatred, which amounts to +madness, there is no safety for me in a house to which he always has the +right to come. I have no guarantee, except his own will and pleasure, +that he will keep our agreement, and I cannot remain at the mercy of a +man who behaves so unreasonably and indelicately to me. I have therefore +decided to ask for a legal separation, and I shall no doubt obtain this. +Casimir made this frightful scene the evening before leaving for +Paris. On his return here, he found the house empty, and me staying at +Dutheil's, by permission of the President of La Chatre. He also found a +summons awaiting him on the mantelshelf. He had to make the best of it, +for he knew it was no use attempting to fight against the result of his +own folly, and that, by holding out, the scandal would all fall on him. +He made the following stipulations, promising to adhere to them. Duthell +was our intermediary. I am to allow him a pension of 3,800 francs, +which, with the 1,200 francs income that he now has, will make 5,000 +francs a year for him. I think this is all straightforward, as I am +paying for the education of the two children. My daughter will remain +under my guidance, as I understand. My son will remain at the college +where he now is until he has finished his education. During the holidays +he will spend a month with his father and a month with me. In this +way, there will be no contest. Dudevant will return to Paris very +soon, without making any opposition, and the Court will pronounce the +separation in default."(23) + + (23) Communicated by M. S. Rocheblave. + + +The following amusing letter on the same subject was written by George +Sand to Adolphe Duplomb in the _patois_ peculiar to Berry: + +"DEAR HYDROGEN, + +"You have been misinformed about what took place at La Chatre. Duthell +never quarrelled with the Baron of Nohant-Vic. This is the true story. +The baron took it into his head to strike me. Dutheil objected. Fleury +and Papet also objected. The baron went to search for his gun to kill +every one. Every one did not want to be killed, and so the baron said: +'Well, that's enough then,' and began to drink again. That was how it +all happened. No one quarrelled with him. But I had had enough. As I do +not care to earn my living and then leave _my substance_ in the hands of +the _diable_ and be bowed out of the house every year, while the village +hussies sleep in my beds and bring their fleas into my house, I just +said: 'I ain't going to have any more of that,' and I went and found the +big judge of La Chatre, and I says, says I: 'That's how it is.' And +then he says, says he: 'All right.' And so he unmarried us. And I am not +sorry. They say that the baron will make an appeal. I ain't knowin'. +We shall see. If he does, he'll lose everything. And that's the whole +story."(24) + + (24) Communicated by M. Charles Duplomb. + +The case was pleaded in March, 1836, at La Chatre, and in July at +Bourges. The Court granted the separation, and the care of the children +was attributed to George Sand. + +This was not the end of the affair, though. In September, 1837, George +Sand was warned that Dudevant intended to get Maurice away from her. She +sent a friend on whom she could count to take her boy to Fontainebleau, +and then went herself to watch over him. In the mean time, Dudevant, not +finding his son at Nohant, took Solange away with him, in spite of the +child's tears and the resistance of the governess. George Sand gave +notice to the police, and, on discovering that her little daughter was +sequestered at Guillery, near Nerac, she went herself in a post-chaise +to the sub-prefect, a charming young man, who was no other than +Baron Haussmann. On hearing the story, he went himself with her, and, +accompanied by the lieutenant of the constabulary and the sheriff's +officer on horseback, laid siege to the house at Guillery in which the +young girl was imprisoned. Dudevant brought his daughter to the door +and handed her over to her mother, threatening at the same time to take +Maurice from her by legal authority. The husband and wife then separated +. . . delighted with each other, according to George Sand. They very +rarely met after this affair. Dudevant certainly did not impress people +very favourably. After the separation, when matters were being +finally settled, he put in a claim for fifteen pots of jam and an iron +frying-pan. All this seems very petty. + +The first use George Sand made of the liberty granted to her by the law, +in 1836, was to start off with Maurice and Solange for Switzerland to +join her friends Franz Liszt and the Comtesse d'Agoult. George Sand had +made Liszt's acquaintance through Musset. Liszt gave music-lessons to +Alfred's sister, Herminie. He was born in 1811, so that he was seven +years younger than George Sand. He was twenty-three at the time he first +met her, and their friendship was always platonic. They had remarkable +affinities of nature. Liszt had first thought of becoming a priest. +His religious fervour was gradually transformed into an ardent love +of humanity. His early education had been neglected, and he now read +eagerly. He once asked Monsieur Cremieux, the advocate, to teach him +"the whole of French literature." On relating this to some one, Cremieux +remarked: "Great confusion seems to reign in this young man's mind." He +had been wildly excited during the movement of 1830, greatly influenced +by the Saint-Simon ideas, and was roused to enthusiasm by Lamennals, +who had just published the _Paroles d'un Croyant_. After reading +Leone Leoni, he became an admirer of George Sand. Leone Leoni is a +transposition of Manon Lescaut into the romantic style. A young girl +named Juliette has been seduced by a young seigneur, and then discovers +that this man is an abominable swindler. If we try to imagine all the +infamous things of which an _apache_ would be capable, who at the same +time is devoted to the women of the pavement, we then have Leone Leoni. +Juliette, who is naturally honest and straightforward, has a horror of +all the atrocities and shameful things she sees. And yet, in spite of +all, she comes back to Leone Leoni, and cannot love any one else. Her +love is stronger than she is, and her passion sweeps away all scruples +and triumphs over all scruples. The difference between the novel of the +eighteenth century, which was so true to life, and this lyrical fantasy +of the nineteenth century is very evident. Manon and Des Grieux always +remained united to each other, for they were of equal value. Everything +took place in the lower depths of society, and in the mire, as it were, +of the heart. You have only to make a good man of Des Grieux, or a +virtuous girl of Manon, and it is all over. The transposing of Leone +Leoni is just this, and the romanticism of it delighted Liszt. + +He had just given a fine example of applying romanticism to life. Marie +d'Agoult, _nee_ de Flavigny, had decided, one fine day, to leave her +husband and daughter for the sake of the passion that was everything to +her. She accordingly started for Geneva, and Liszt joined her there. + +Between these two women a friendship sprang up, which was due rather +to a wish to like each other than to a real attraction or real +fellow-feeling. The Comtesse d'Agoult, with her blue eyes, her +slender figure, and somewhat ethereal style, was a veritable Diana, an +aristocrat and a society woman. George Sand was her exact opposite. But +the Comtesse d'Agoult had just "sacrificed all the vanities of the world +for the sake of an artist," so that she deserved consideration. The +stay at Geneva was gay and animated. The _Piffoels_ (George Sand and her +children) and the _Fellows_ (Liszt and his pupil, Hermann Cohen) enjoyed +scandalizing the whole hotel by their Bohemian ways. They went for an +excursion to the frozen lake. At Lausanne Liszt played the organ. On +returning to Paris the friends did not want to separate. In October, +1836, George Sand took up her abode on the first floor of the Hotel de +France, in the Rue Laffitte, and Liszt and the Corntesse d'Agoult took +a room on the floor above. The trio shared, a drawing-room between +them, but in reality it became more the Comtesse d'Agoult's _salon_ than +George Sand's. Lamennais, Henri Heine, Mickiewicz, Michel of Bourges +and Charles Didier were among their visitors, and we are told that this +_salon_, improvised in a hotel was "a reunion of the _elite_, over which +the Comtesse d'Agoult presided with exquisite grace." She was a true +society woman, a veritable mistress of her home, one of those who could +transform a room in a hotel, a travelling carriage, or even a prison +into that exquisite thing, so dear to French polite society of yore--a +_salon_. + +Among the _habitues_ of Madame d'Agoult's _salon_ was Chopin. This is +a new chapter in George Sand's life, and a little later on we shall be +able to consider, as a whole, the importance of this intercourse with +great artists as regards her intellectual development. + +Before finishing our study of this epoch in her life, we must notice how +much George Sand's talent had developed and blossomed out. _Mauprat_ was +published in 1837, and is undoubtedly the first of her _chefs-d'oeuvre_. +In her uninterrupted literary production, which continued regularly in +spite of and through all the storms of her private life, there is much +that is strange and second-rate and much that is excellent. _Jacques_ +is an extraordinary piece of work. It was written at Venice when she was +with Pagello. George Sand declared that she had neither put herself nor +Musset into this book. She was nevertheless inspired by their case, +and she merely transposed their ideal of renunciation. _Andre_ may be +classed among the second-rate work. It is the story of a young noble who +seduces a girl of the working-class. It is a souvenir of Berry, written +in a home-sick mood when George Sand was at Venice. _Simon_ also belongs +to the second-rate category. The portrait of Michel of Bourges can +easily be traced in it. George Sand had intended doing more for Michel +than this. She composed a revolutionary novel in three volumes, in his +honour, entitled: _Engelwald with the high forehead_. Buloz neither +cared for _Engelwald_ nor for his high forehead, and this novel was +never published. + +According to George Sand, when she wrote _Mauprat_ her idea was +the rehabilitation of marriage. "I had just been petitioning for a +separation," she says. "I had, until then, been fighting against the +abuses of marriage, and, as I had never developed my ideas sufficiently, +I had given every one the notion that I despised the essential +principles of it. On the contrary, marriage really appeared to me in all +the moral beauty of those principles, and in my book I make my hero, at +the age of eighty, proclaim his faithfulness to the only woman he has +ever loved." + +"She is the only woman I have ever loved," says Bernard de Mauprat. "No +other woman has ever attracted my attention or been embraced by me. I am +like that. When I love, I love for ever, in the past, in the present and +in the future." + +_Mauprat_, then, according to George Sand, was a novel with a purpose, +just as _Indiana_ was, although they each had an opposite purpose. +Fortunately it is nothing of the kind. This is one of those explanations +arranged afterwards, peculiar sometimes to authors. The reality about +all this is quite different. + +In this book George Sand had just given the reins to her imagination, +without allowing sociological preoccupations to spoil everything. During +her excursions in Berry, she had stopped to gaze at the ruins of an old +feudal castle. We all know the power of suggestion contained in those +old stones, and how wonderfully they tell stories of the past they +have witnessed to those persons who know how to question them. The +remembrance of the _chateau_ of Roche Mauprat came to the mind of the +novelist. She saw it just as it stood before the Revolution, a fortress, +and at the same time a refuge for the wild lord and his eight sons, +who used to sally forth and ravage the country. In French narrative +literature there is nothing to surpass the first hundred pages in which +George Sand introduces us to the burgraves of central France. She is +just as happy when she takes us to Paris with Bernard de Mauprat, to +Paris of the last days of the old _regime_. She introduces us to the +society which she had learnt to know through the traditions of her +grandmother. It is not only Nature, but history, which she uses as a +setting for her story. How cleverly, too, she treats the analysis which +is the true subject of the book, that of education through love. We see +the untamed nature of Bernard de Mauprat gradually giving way under the +influence of the noble and delicious Edmee. + +There are typical peasants, too, in _Mauprat_. We have Marcasse, the +mole-catcher, and Patience, the good-natured Patience, the rustic +philosopher, well up in Epictetus and in Jean-Jacques Rousseau, who has +gone into the woods to live his life according to the laws of Nature and +to find the wisdom of the primitive days of the world. We are told that, +during the Revolution, Patience was a sort of intermediary between the +_chateau_ and the cottage, and that he helped in bringing about the +reign of equity in his district. It is to be hoped this was so. + +In any case, it is very certain that we come across this Patience again +in Russian novels with a name ending in _ow_ or _ew_. This is a proof +that if the personage seems somewhat impossible, he was at any rate +original, new and entertaining. + +We hear people say that George Sand is no longer read. It is to be hoped +that _Mauprat_ is still read, otherwise our modern readers miss one of +the finest stories in the history of novels. This, then, is the point +at which we have arrived in the evolution of George Sand's genius. There +may still be modifications in her style, and her talent may still be +refreshed under various influences, but with _Mauprat_ she took her +place in the first rank of great storytellers. + + + + +VI + +A CASE OF MATERNAL AFFECTION IN LOVE + +CHOPIN + + +We have passed over George Sand's intercourse with Liszt and Madame +d'Agoult very rapidly. One of Balzac's novels gives us an opportunity of +saying a few more words about it. + +Balzac had been introduced to George Sand by Jules Sandeau. At the time +of her rupture with his friend, Balzac had sided entirely with him. In +the _Lettres a l'Etrangere_, we see the author of the _Comedie humaine_ +pouring out his indignation with the blue stocking, who was so cruel in +her love, in terms which were not extremely elegant. Gradually, and when +he knew more about the adventure, his anger cooled down. In March, 1838, +he gave Madame Zulma Carraud an account of a visit to Nohant. He found +his comrade, George Sand, in her dressing-gown, smoking a cigar by her +fireside after dinner. + +"She had some pretty yellow slippers on, ornamented with fringe, +some fancy stockings and red trousers. So much for the moral side. +Physically, she had doubled her chin like a canoness. She had not a +single white hair, in spite of all her fearful misfortunes; her dusky +complexion had not changed. Her beautiful eyes were just as bright, and +she looked just as stupid as ever when she was thinking. . . ." + +This is George Sand in her thirty-fifth year, as she was at the time of +the fresh adventure we are about to relate. + +Balzac continues by giving us a few details about the life of the +authoress. It was very much like his own, except that Balzac went to bed +at six o'clock and got up at midnight, and George Sand went to bed at +six in the morning and got up at noon. He adds the following remark, +which shows us the state of her feelings: + +"She is now in a very quiet retreat, and condemns both marriage and +love, because she has had nothing but disappointment in both herself. +Her man was a rare one, that was really all." + + +In the course of their friendly conversation, George Sand gave him the +subject for a novel which it would be rather awkward for her to +write. The novel was to be _Galeriens_ or _Amours forces_. These +"galley-slaves" of love were Liszt and the Comtesse d'Agoult, who had +been with George Sand at Chamonix, Paris and Nohant. It was very evident +that she could not write the novel herself. + +Balzac accordingly wrote it, and it figures in the _Comedie humaine as +Beatrix_. Beatrix is the Comtesse d'Agoult, the inspirer, and Liszt is +the composer Conti. + +"You have no idea yet of the awful rights that a love which no longer +exists gives to a man over a woman. The convict is always under the +domination of the companion chained to him. I am lost, and must return +to the convict prison," writes Balzac in this book. Then, too, there is +no mistaking his portrait of Beatrix. The fair hair that seems to give +light, the forehead which looks transparent, the sweet, charming face, +the long, wonderfully shaped neck, and, above and beyond all, that air +of a princess, in all this we can easily recognize "the fair, blue-eyed +Peri." Not content with bringing this illustrious couple into his novel, +Balzac introduces other contemporaries. Claude Vignon (who, although +his special work was criticism, made a certain place for himself in +literature) and George Sand herself appear in this book. She is Felicite +des Touches, and her pen name is Camille Maupin. "Camille is an artist," +we are told; "she has genius, and she leads an exceptional life such as +could not be judged in the same way as an ordinary existence." Some one +asks how she writes her books, and the answer is: "Just in the same way +as you do your woman's work, your netting or your tapestry." She is said +to have the intelligence of an angel and even more heart than talent. +With her fixed, set gaze, her dark complexion and her masculine ways, +she is the exact antithesis of the fair Beatrix. She is constantly being +compared to the latter, and is evidently preferred to her. It is very +evident from whom Balzac gets his information, and it is also evident +that the friendship between the two women has cooled down. + +The cause of the coolness between them was George Sand's infatuation +for Chopin, whom she had known through Liszt and Madame d'Agoult. George +Sand wrote to Liszt from Nohant, in March, 1837: "Tell Chopin that I +hope he will come with you. Marie cannot live without him, and I adore +him." In April she wrote to Madame d'Agoult: "Tell Chopin that I idolize +him." We do not know whether Madame d'Agoult gave the message, but +she certainly replied: "Chopin coughs with infinite grace. He is an +irresolute man. The only thing about him that is permanent is his +cough." This is certainly very feminine in its ferociousness. + +At the time when he came into George Sand's life, Chopin, the composer +and virtuoso, was the favourite of Parisian _salons_, the pianist in +vogue. He was born in 1810, so that he was then twenty-seven years +of age. His success was due, in the first place, to his merits as +an artist, and nowhere is an artist's success so great as in Paris. +Chopin's delicate style was admirably suited to the dimensions and to +the atmosphere of a _salon_.(25) + + (25) As regards Chopin, I have consulted a biography by + Liszt, a study by M. Camille Bellaigue and the volume by M. + Elie Poiree in the _Collection des musiciens celebres_, + published by H. Laurens. + +He confessed to Liszt that a crowd intimidated him, that he felt +suffocated by all the quick breathing and paralyzed by the inquisitive +eyes turned on him. "You were intended for all this," he adds, "as, if +you do not win over your public, you can at least overwhelm it." + +Chopin was made much of then in society. He was fragile and delicate, +and had always been watched over and cared for. He had grown up in a +peaceful, united family, in one of those simple homes in which all +the details of everyday life become less prosaic, thanks to an innate +distinction of sentiment and to religious habits. Prince Radziwill had +watched over Chopin's education. He had been received when quite young +in the most aristocratic circles, and "the most celebrated beauties had +smiled on him as a youth." Social life, then, and feminine influence had +thus helped to make him ultra refined. It was very evident to every one +who met him that he was a well-bred man, and this is quickly observed, +even with pianists. On arriving he made a good impression, he was well +dressed, his white gloves were immaculate. He was reserved and somewhat +languid. Every one knew that he was delicate, and there was a rumour +of an unhappy love affair. It was said that he had been in love with a +girl, and that her family had refused to consent to her marriage with +him. People said he was like his own music, the dreamy, melancholy +themes seemed to accord so well with the pale young face of the +composer. The fascination of the languor which seemed to emanate from +the man and from his work worked its way, in a subtle manner, into the +hearts of his hearers. Chopin did not care to know Lelia. He did not +like women writers, and he was rather alarmed at this one. It was Liszt +who introduced them. In his biography of Chopin, he tells us that the +extremely sensitive artist, who was so easily alarmed, dreaded "this +woman above all women, as, like a priestess of Delphi, she said so many +things that the others could not have said. He avoided her and postponed +the introduction. Madame Sand had no idea that she was feared as a +sylph. . . ." She made the first advances. It is easy to see what +charmed her in him. In the first place, he appealed to her as he did to +all women, and then, too, there was the absolute contrast of their two +opposite natures. She was all force, of an expansive, exuberant nature. +He was very discreet, reserved and mysterious. It seems that the Polish +characteristic is to lend oneself, but never to give oneself away, and +one of Chopin's friends said of him that he was "more Polish than Poland +itself." Such a contrast may prove a strong attraction, and then, too, +George Sand was very sensitive to the charm of music. But what she saw +above all in Chopin was the typical artist, just as she understood the +artist, a dreamer, lost in the clouds, incapable of any activity that +was practical, a "lover of the impossible." And then, too, he was ill. +When Musset left Venice, after all the atrocious nights she had spent at +his bedside, she wrote: "Whom shall I have now to look after and tend?" +In Chopin she found some one to tend. + +About this time, she was anxious about the health of her son Maurice, +and she thought she would take her family to Majorca. This was a +lamentable excursion, but it seemed satisfactory at first. They +travelled by way of Lyons, Avignon, Vaucluse and Nimes. At Perpignan, +Chopin arrived, "as fresh as a rose." "Our journey," wrote George Sand, +"seems to be under the most favourable conditions." They then went on +to Barcelona and to Palma. In November, 1838, George Sand wrote a most +enthusiastic letter: "It is poetry, solitude, all that is most +artistic and _chique_ on earth. And what skies, what a country; we are +delighted."(26) The disenchantment was soon to begin, though. The first +difficulty was to find lodgings, and the second to get furniture. There +was no wood to burn and there was no linen to be had. It took two months +to have a pair of tongs made, and it cost twenty-eight pounds at the +customs for a piano to enter the country. With great difficulty, the +forlorn travellers found a country-house belonging to a man named Gomez, +which they were able to rent. It was called the "Windy House." The wind +did not inconvenience them like the rain, which now commenced. Chopin +could not endure the heat and the odour of the fires. His disease +increased, and this was the origin of the great tribulations that were +to follow. + + Buloz: + + _Monday 13th._ + + MY DEAR CHRISTINE, + + "I have only been at Palma four days. My journey has been + very satisfactory, but rather long and difficult until we + were out of France. I took up my pen (as people say) twenty + times over to write the last five or six pages for which + _Spiridion_ has been waiting for six months. It is not the + easiest thing in the world, I can assure you, to give the + conclusion of one's own religious belief, and when + travelling it is impossible. At twenty different places I + have resolved to think it solemnly over and to write down my + conclusion. But these stoppages were the most tiring part of + our journey. There were visits, dinners, walks, curiosities, + ruins, the Vaucluse fountain, Reboul and the Nimes arena, + the Barcelona cathedrals, dinners on board the war-ships, + the Italian theatres of Spain (and what theatres and what + Italians!), guitars and Heaven knows what beside. There was + the moonlight on the sea and above all Valma and Mallorca, + the most delightful place in the world, and all this kept me + terribly far away from philosophy and theology. Fortunately + I have found some superb convents here all in ruins, with + palm-trees, aloes and the cactus in the midst of broken + mosaics and crumbling cloisters, and this takes me back to + _Spiridion_. For the last three days I have had a rage for + work, which I cannot satisfy yet, as we have neither fire + nor lodging. There is not an inn in Palma, no house to let + and no furniture to be bought. On arriving here people first + have to buy some ground, then build, and afterwards send for + furniture. After this, permission to live somewhere has to + be obtained from Government, and after five or six years one + can think about opening one's trunk and changing one's + chemise, whilst waiting for permission from the Customs to + have some shoes and handkerchiefs passed. For the last four + days then we have spent our time going from door to door, as + we do not want to sleep in the open air. We hope now to be + settled in about three days, as a miracle has taken place. + For the first time in the memory of man, there is a + furnished house to let in Mallorca, a charming country-house + in a delightful desert. . . ." + +At that time Spain was the very last country in which to travel with a +consumptive patient. In a very fine lecture, the subject of which was +_The Fight with Tuberculosis_,(27) Dr. Landouzy proves to us that ever +since the sixteenth century, in the districts of the Mediterranean, +in Spain, in the Balearic Isles and throughout the kingdom of Naples, +tuberculosis was held to be contagious, whilst the rest of Europe was +ignorant of this contagion. Extremely severe rules had been laid down +with regard to the measures to be taken for avoiding the spread of +this disease. A consumptive patient was considered as a kind of +plague-stricken individual. Chateaubriand had experienced the +inconveniences of this scare during his stay in Rome with Madame de +Beaumont, who died there of consumption, at the beginning of the winter +of 1803. George Sand, in her turn, was to have a similar experience. +When Chopin was convicted of consumption, "which," as she writes, "was +equivalent to the plague, according to the Spanish doctors, with their +foregone conclusions about contagion," their landlord simply turned +them out of his house. They took refuge in the Chartreuse monastery of +Valdemosa, where they lived in a cell. The site was very beautiful. By a +wooded slope a terrace could be reached, from which there was a view of +the sea on two sides. + + (27) L. Landouzy of the Academy of Medecine, _La Lutte + contre la tuberculose_, published by L. Maretheux. + +"We are planted between heaven and earth," wrote George Sand. "The +clouds cross our garden at their own will and pleasure, and the eagles +clamour over our heads." + +A cell in this monastery was composed of three rooms: the one in the +middle was intended for reading, prayer and meditation, the other +two were the bedroom and the workshop. All three rooms looked on to a +garden. Reading, rest and manual labour made up the life of these men. +They lived in a limited space certainly, but the view stretched out +infinitely, and prayer went up direct to God. Among the ruined buildings +of the enormous monastery there was a cloister still standing, through +which the wind howled desperately. It was like the scenery in the nuns' +act in _Robert le Diable_. All this made the old monastery the most +romantic place in the world.(28) + + (28) George Sand to Madame Buloz. Postscript to the letter + already quoted: + + "I am leaving for the country where I have a furnished house + with a garden, magnificently situated for 50 francs a month. + I have also taken a cell, that is three rooms and a garden + for 35 francs a year in the Chartreuse of Valdemosa, a + magnificent, immense monastery quite lonely in the midst of + mountains. Our garden is full of oranges and lemons. The + trees break under them. We have hedges of cactus twenty to + thirty feet high, the sea is about a mile and a half away. + We have a donkey to take us to the town, roads inaccessible + to visitors, immense cloisters and the most beautiful + architecture, a charming church, a cemetery with a palm-tree + and a stone cross like the one in the third act of _Robert + le Diable_. Then, too, there are beds of shrubs cut in + form. All this we have to ourselves with an old woman to + wait on us, and the sacristan who is warder, steward, + majordomo and Jack-of-all-trades. I hope we shall have + ghosts. The door of my cell leads into an enormous + cloister, and when the wind slams the door it is like a + cannon going off through all the monastery. I am delighted + with everything, and fancy I shall be more often in the cell + than in the country-house, which is about six miles away. + You see that I have plenty of poetry and solitude, so that + if I do not work I shall be a stupid thing." + +The only drawback was that it was most difficult to live there. There +was no way of getting warm. The stove was a kind of iron furnace which +gave out a terrible odour, and did not prevent the rooms from being so +damp that clothes mildewed while they were being worn. There was no way +of getting proper food either. They had to eat the most indigestible +things. There were five sorts of meat certainly, but these were pig, +pork, bacon, ham and pickled pork. This was all cooked in dripping, +pork-dripping, of course, or in rancid oil. Still more than this, the +natives refused, not only to serve the unfortunate travellers, but +to sell them the actual necessaries of life. The fact was, they had +scandalized the Majorcan people. All Majorca was indignant because +Solange, who at that time was nine years old, roamed about the mountains +_disguised as a man_. Added to this, when the horn sounded which called +people to their devotions in the churches, these strange inhabitants +of the old Valdemosa monastery never took any more notice than pagans. +People kept clear of them. Chopin suffered with the cold, the cooking +made him sick, and he used to have fits of terror in the cloisters. They +had to leave hastily. The only steamboat from the island was used to +transport the pigs which are the pride and wealth of Majorca. People +were only taken as an extra. It was, therefore, in the company of these +squealing, ill-smelling creatures that the invalid crossed the water. +When he arrived at Barcelona, he looked like a spectre and was spitting +blood. George Sand was quite right in saying that this journey was an +"awful fiasco." + +Art and literature did not gain much either by this expedition. George +Sand finished her novel entitled _Spiridion_ at Valdemosa. She had +commenced it before starting for Spain. In a volume on _Un hiver a +Majorque_ she gave some fine descriptions, and also a harsh accusation +of the monks, whom she held responsible for all the mishaps of the +Sand caravan. She considered that the Majorcans had been brutalized and +fanaticized, thanks to their influence. As to Chopin, he was scarcely in +a state to derive any benefit from such a journey, and he certainly did +not get any. He did not thoroughly appreciate the beauties of nature, +particularly of Majorcan nature. In a letter to one of his friends he +gives the following description of their habitation:-- + +"Between rocks and sea, in a great deserted monastery, in a cell, the +doors of which are bigger than the carriage entrances to the houses in +Paris, you can imagine me, without white gloves, and no curl in my hair, +as pale as usual. My cell is the shape of a large-sized bier. . . ." + +This certainly does not sound very enthusiastic. The question is whether +he composed anything at all at Valdemosa. Liszt presents him to +us improvising his Prelude in B flat minor under the most dramatic +circumstances. We are told that one day, when George Sand and her +children had started on an excursion, they were surprised by a +thunderstorm. Chopin had stayed at home in the monastery, and, terrified +at the danger he foresaw for them, he fainted. Before they reached home +he had improvised his _Prelude_, in which he has put all his terror and +the nervousness due to his disease. It appears, though, that all this is +a legend, and that there is not a single echo of the stay at Valdemosa +in Chopin's work. + +The deplorable journey to Majorca dates from November, 1838 to March, +1839. The intimacy between George Sand and Chopin continued eight years +more. + +In the summer Chopin stayed it Nohant. Eugene Delacroix, who was paying +a visit there too, describes his presence as follows: "At times, through +the window opening on to the garden, we get wafts of Chopin's music, as +he too is at work. It is mingled with the songs of the nightingales and +with the perfume of the rose trees." + +Chopin did not care much for Nohant. In the first place, he only liked +the country for about a fortnight at a time, which is very much like +not caring for it at all. Then what made him detest the country were the +inhabitants. Hippolyte Chatiron was terrible after he had been drinking. +He was extremely effusive and cordial. + +In the winter they first lived in the Rue Pigalle. George Sand used to +receive Pierre Leroux, Louis Blanc, Edgar Quinet, Etienne Arago, and +many other men. Chopin, who was not very intellectual, felt ill at +ease amongst all these literary men, these reformers, arguers and +speechifiers. In 1842, they emigrated to the Square d'Orleans. There +was a sort of little colony established there, consisting of Alexandre +Dumas, Dantan the caricaturist, the Viardots, Zimmermann, and the wife +of the Spanish consul, Madame Marliani, who had attracted them all +there. They took their meals together. It was a regular phalinstery, and +Chopin had very elegant tastes! + +We must give George Sand credit for looking after him with admirable +devotion. She certainly went on nursing her "invalid," or her "dear +skeleton," as she called him, but her infatuation had been over for a +long time. The absolute contrast of two natures may be attractive at +first, but the attraction does not last, and, when the first enthusiasm +is over, the logical consequence is that they become disunited. This was +what Liszt said in rather an odd but energetic way. He points out all +that there was "intolerably incompatible, diametrically opposite and +secretly antipathetic between two natures which seemed to have been +mutually drawn to each other by a sudden and superficial attraction, +for the sake of repulsing each other later on with all the force of +inexpressible sorrow and boredom." Illness had embittered Chopin's +character. George Sand used to say that "when he was angry he was +terrifying." He was very intelligent, too, and delighted in quizzing +people for whom he did not care. Solange and Maurice were now older, and +this made the situation somewhat delicate. Chopin, too, had a mania +for meddling with family matters. He quarrelled one day with Maurice. +Another day George Sand was annoyed with her son-in-law Clesinger and +with her daughter Solange, and Chopin took their side. This was the +cause of their quarrel; it was the last drop that made the cup of +bitterness overflow. + +The following is a fragment of a letter which George Sand sent to +Grzymala, in 1847: "For seven years I have lived with him as a virgin. +If any woman on earth could inspire him with absolute confidence, I am +certainly that woman, but he has never understood. I know, too, that +many people accuse me of having worn him out with my violent sensuality, +and others accuse me of having driven him to despair by my freaks. +I believe you know how much truth there is in all this. He himself +complains to me that I am killing him by the privations I insist upon, +and I feel certain that I should kill him by acting otherwise."(29) + + (29) Communicated by M. Rocheblave. + +It has been said that when Chopin was at Nohant he had a village girl +there as his mistress. We do not care to discuss the truth of this +statement. + +It is interesting to endeavour to characterize the nature of this +episode in George Sand's sentimental life. She helps us herself in this. +As a romantic writer she neglected nothing which she could turn into +literature. She therefore made an analysis of her own case, worked out +with the utmost care, and published it in one of her books which is +little read now. The year of the rupture was 1847, and before the +rupture had really occurred, George Sand brought out a novel entitled +_Lucrezia Floriani_. In this book she traces the portrait of Chopin +as Prince Karol. She denied, of course, that it was a portrait, but +contemporaries were not to be deceived, and Liszt gives several passages +from _Lucrezia Floriani_ in his biography of the musician. The decisive +proof was that Chopin recognized himself, and that he was greatly +annoyed. + +As a matter of fact, there was nothing disagreeable about this portrait. +The following fragments are taken from it: "Gentle, sensitive, exquisite +in all things, at the age of fifteen he had all the charms of youth, +together with the gravity of a riper age. He remained delicate in body +ind mind. The lack of muscular development caused him to preserve his +fascinating beauty. . . . He was something like one of those ideal +creatures which mediaeval poetry used for the ornamentation of Christian +temples. Nothing could have been purer and at the same time more +enthusiastic than his ideas. . . . He was always lost in his dreams, +and had no sense of reality. . . ." His exquisite politeness was then +described, and the ultra acuteness and nervosity which resulted in that +power of divination which he possessed. For a portrait to be living, +it must have some faults as well as qualities. His delineator does +not forget to mention the attitude of mystery in which the Prince took +refuge whenever his feelings were hurt. She speaks also of his intense +susceptibility. "His wit was very brilliant," she says; "it consisted of +a kind of subtle mocking shrewdness, not really playful, but a sort of +delicate, bantering gaiety." It may have been to the glory of Prince +Karol to resemble Chopin, but it was also quite creditable to Chopin +to have been the model from which this distinguished neurasthenic +individual was taken. + +Prince Karol meets a certain Lucrezia Floriani, a rich actress and +courtesan. She is six years older than he is, somewhat past her prime, +and now leading a quiet life. She has done with love and love affairs, +or, at least, she thinks so. "The fifteen years of passion and torture, +which she had gone through, seemed to her now so cruel that she was +hoping to have them counted double by the supreme Dispenser of our +trials." It was, of course, natural that she should acknowledge God's +share in the matter. We are told that "implacable destiny was not +satisfied," so that when Karol makes his first declaration, Lucrezia +yields to him, but at the same time she puts a suitable colouring on +her fall. There are many ways of loving, and it is surely noble and +disinterested in a woman to love a man as his mother. "I shall love +him," she says, kissing the young Prince's pale face ardently, "but +it will be as his mother loved him, just as fervently and just as +faithfully. This maternal affection, etc. . . ." Lucrezia Floriani had +a way of introducing the maternal instinct everywhere. She undertook to +encircle her children and Prince Karol with the same affection, and her +notions of therapeutics were certainly somewhat strange and venturesome, +for she fetched her children to the Prince's bedside. "Karol breathed +more freely," we are told, "when the children were there. Their pure +breath mingling with their mother's made the air milder and more gentle +for his feverish lungs." This we shall not attempt to dispute. It is +the study of the situation, though, that forms the subject of _Lucrezia +Floriani_. George Sand gives evidence of wonderful clear-sightedness and +penetration in the art of knowing herself. + +She gives us warning that it is "a sad story and sorrowful truth" +that she is telling us. She has herself the better _role_ of the two +naturally. It could not have been on that, account that Chopin' was +annoyed. He was a Pole, and therefore doubly chivalrous, so that such an +objection would have been unworthy of a lover. What concerns us is that +George Sand gives, with great nicety, the exact causes of the rupture. +In the first place, Karol was jealous of Lucrezia's stormy past; then +his refined nature shrank from certain of her comrades of a rougher +kind. The invalid was irritated by her robust health, and by the +presence and, we might almost say, the rivalry of the children. Prince +Karol finds them nearly always in his way, and he finally takes a +dislike to them. There comes a moment when Lucrezia sees herself obliged +to choose between the two kinds of maternity, the natural kind and the +maternity according to the convention of lovers. + +The special kind of sentiment, then, between George Sand and Chopin, +Just as between Lucrezia and Prince Karol, was just this: love with +maternal affection. This is extremely difficult to define, as indeed +is everything which is extremely complex. George Sand declares that her +reason for not refusing intimacy with Chopin was that she considered +this in the light of a duty and as a safeguard. "One duty more," she +writes, "in a life already so full, a life in which I was overwhelmed +with fatigue, seemed to me one chance more of arriving at that austerity +towards which I felt myself being drawn with a kind of religious +enthusiasm."(30) + + (30) _Histoire de via vie._ + +We can only imagine that she was deceiving herself. To accept a lover +for the sake of giving up lovers altogether seems a somewhat heroic +means to an end, but also somewhat deceptive. It is certainly true that +there was something more in this love than the attraction she felt for +Musset and for Michel. In the various forms and degrees of our feelings, +there is nothing gained by attempting to establish decided divisions +and absolute demarcations for the sake of classifying them all. Among +sentiments which are akin, but which our language distinguishes when +defining them, there may be some mixture or some confusion with regard +to their origin. Alfred de Vigny gives us in _Samson_, as the origin of +love, even in man, the remembrance of his mother's caresses: + +_Il revera toujours a la chaleur du sein._ + +It seems, therefore, that we cannot apply the same reasoning, with +regard to love, when referring to the love of a man or of a woman. With +the man there is more pride of possession, and with the woman there +is more tenderness, more pity, more charity. All this leads us to +the conclusion that maternal affection in love is not an unnatural +sentiment, as has so often been said, or rather a perversion of +sentiment. It is rather a sentiment in which too much instinct and +heredity are mingled in a confused way. The object of the education of +feeling is to arrive at discerning and eliminating the elements which +interfere with the integrity of it. Rousseau called Madame de Warens +his mother, but he was a man who was lacking in good taste. George Sand +frequently puts into her novels this conception of love which we see her +put into practice in life. It is impossible when analyzing it closely +not to find something confused and disturbing in it which somewhat +offends us. + +It now remains for us to study what influence George Sand's friendship +with some of the greatest artists of her times had on her works. Beside +Liszt and Chopin, she knew Delacroix, Madame Dorval, Pauline Viardot, +Nourrit and Lablache. Through them she went into artistic circles. +Some of her novels are stories of the life of artists. _Les Maitres +Mosaistes_ treats of the rivalry between two studios. _La derniere +Aldini_ is the story of a handsome gondolier who, as a tenor, turned the +heads of patrician women. The first part of _Consuelo_ takes us back to +the singing schools and theatres of Venice in the eighteenth century, +and introduces us to individuals taken from life and cleverly drawn. +We have Comte Zustiniani, the dilettante, a wealthy patron of the fine +arts; Porpora, the old master, who looks upon his art as something +sacred; Corilla, the prima donna, annoyed at seeing a new star appear; +Anzoleto, the tenor, who is jealous because he gets less applause than +his friend; and above and beyond all the others Consuelo, good kind +Consuelo, the sympathetic singer. + +The theatres of Venice seem to be very much like those of Paris and +of other places. We have the following sketch of the vanity of the +comedian. "Can a man be jealous of a woman's advantages? Can a lover +dislike his sweetheart to have success? A man can certainly be jealous +of a woman's advantages when that man is a vain artist, and a lover +may hate his sweetheart to have any success if they both belong to the +theatre. A comedian is not a man, Consuelo, but a woman. He lives on his +sickly vanity; he only thinks of satisfying that vanity, and he works +for the sake of intoxicating himself with vanity. A woman's beauty is +apt to take attention from him and a woman's talent may cause his talent +to be thrown in the background. A woman is his rival, or rather he is +the rival of a woman. He has all the little meannesses, the caprices, +the exigences and the weak points of a coquette." Such is the note of +this picture of things and people in the theatrical world. How can we +doubt its veracity! + +At any rate, the general idea that George Sand had of the artist was +exactly the idea adopted by romanticism. We all know what a being +set apart and free from all social and moral laws, what a "monster" +romanticism made of the artist. It is one of its dogmas that the +necessities of art are incompatible with the conditions of a regular +life. An artist, for instance, cannot be _bourgeois_, as he is the exact +opposite. We have Kean's speech in Dumas' drama, entitled _Kean, or +Disorder and Genius._ + +"An actor," he says, "must know all the passions, so that he may express +them as he should. I study them in myself." And then he adds: "That is +what you call, orderly! And what is to become of genius while I am being +orderly?" + +All this is absurd. The artist is not the man who has felt the most, but +the man best gifted for imagining the various states of mind and feeling +and for expressing them. We know, too, that an irregular life is neither +the origin nor the stamp of extraordinary intellectual worth. All the +cripples of Bohemian life prove to us that genius is not the outcome +of that kind of life, but that, on the contrary, such life is apt to +paralyze talent. It is very convenient, though, for the artist and for +every other variety of "superior beings" to make themselves believe that +ordinary morals are not for them. The best argument we can have against +this theory is the case of George Sand. The artist, in her case, was +eminently a very regular and hard-working _bourgeois_ woman. + + +The art in which George Sand gave evidence of the surest taste was +music. That is worthy of notice. In one of her _Lettres d'un voyageur_, +she celebrates Liszt attacking the _Dies irae_ on the Fribourg organ. +She devotes another letter to the praise of Meyer-beer. She has analyzed +the different forms of musical emotion in several of her books. One of +the ideas dear to romanticism was that of the union and fusion of all +the arts. The writer can, and in a certain way he ought, to produce +with words the same effects that the painter does with colours and the +sculptor with lines. We all know how much literature romantic painters +and sculptors have put into their art. The romantic writers were less +inclined to accord the same welcome to music as to the plastic arts. +Theophile Gautier is said to have exclaimed that music was "the most +disagreeable and the dearest of all the arts." Neither Lamartine, Hugo, +nor any other of the great writers of that period was influenced by +music. Musset was the first one to be impassioned by it, and this may +have been as much through his dandyism as from conviction. + + _Fille de la douleur, Harmonie, Harmonie, + Langue que fiour l'amour invents le ginie, + Qui nous viens d'Italie, et qui lui vins des cieux, + Douce langue du coeur, la seule ou la pensee, + Cette vierge craintive et d'une ombre ofensie, + Passe en gardant son voile et sans craindre les eux, + Qui sait ce qu'un enfant peut entendre et peut dire + Dans tes soupirs divins nes de l'air qu'il respire, + Tristes comme son coeur et doux comme sa voix?_ + +George Sand, who agreed with Musset, claimed for "the most beautiful +of all the arts," the honour of being able to paint "all the shades +of sentiment and all the phases of passion." "Music," she says, "can +express everything. For describing scenes of nature it has ideal colours +and lines, neither exact nor yet too minute, but which are all the more +vaguely and delightfully poetical."(31) + + (31) Eleventh _Lettre d'un voyageur_: To Giacomo Meyerbeer. + +As examples of music in literature we have George Sand's phrase, more +lyrical and musical than picturesque. We have, too, the gentle, soothing +strophes of Sully Prudhomme and the vague melody of the Verlaine songs: +"_De la musique avant toute chose_." It would be absurd to exaggerate +the influence exercised by George Sand, and to attribute to her an +importance which does not belong to her, over poetical evolution. It is +only fair to say, though, that music, which was looked upon suspiciously +for so long a time by classical writers of sane and sure taste, has +completely invaded our present society, so that we are becoming more +and more imbued with it. George Sand's predilection for modern art is +another feature which makes her one of us, showing that her tendencies +were very marked for things of the present day. + + + + +VII + +THE HUMANITARIAN DREAM + +PIERRE LEROUX--SOCIALISTIC NOVELS + + +Hitherto we have seen George Sand put into her work her sufferings, +her protests as a woman, and her dreams as an artist. But the +nineteenth-century writer did not confine his ambitions to this modest +task. He belonged to a corporation which counted among its members +Voltaire and Rousseau. The eighteenth-century philosophers had changed +the object of literature. Instead of an instrument of analysis, they +had made of it a weapon for combat, an incomparable weapon for attacking +institutions and for overthrowing governments. The fact is, that from +the time of the Restoration we shall scarcely meet with a single writer, +from the philosopher to the vaudevillist, and from the professor to the +song-maker, who did not wish to act as a torch on the path of humanity. +Poets make revolutions, and show Plato how wrong he was in driving them +away from his Republic. Sophocles was appointed a general at Athens for +having written a good tragedy, and so novelists, dramatists, critics and +makers of puns devoted themselves to making laws. George Sand was too +much a woman of her times to keep aloof from such a movement. We shall +now have to study her in her socialistic _role_. + +We can easily imagine on what side her sympathies were. She had always +been battling with institutions, and it seemed to her that institutions +were undoubtedly in the wrong. She had proved that there was a great +deal of suffering in the world, and as human nature is good at bottom, +she decided that society was all wrong. She was a novelist, and she +therefore considered that the most satisfactory solutions are those in +which imagination and feeling play a great part. She also considered +that the best politics are those which are the most like a novel. We +must now follow her, step by step, along the various roads leading to +Utopia. The truth is, that in that great manufactory of systems and that +storehouse of panaceas which the France of Louis-Philippe had become, +the only difficulty was to choose between them all. + +The first, in date, of the new gospels was that of the Saint-Simonians. +When George Sand arrived in Paris, Saint-Simonism was one of the +curiosities offered to astonished provincials. It was a parody of +religion, but it was organized in a church with a Father in two persons, +Bazard and Enfantin. The service took place in a _bouis-bouis_. The +costume worn consisted of white trousers, a red waistcoat and a blue +tunic. On the days when the Father came down from the heights of +Menilmontant with his children, there was great diversion for the people +in the street. An important thing was lacking in the organization of the +Saint-Simonians. In order to complete the "sacerdotal couple," a woman +was needed to take her place next the Father. A Mother was asked for +over and over again. It was said that she would soon appear, but she was +never forthcoming. Saint-Simon had tried to tempt Madame de Stael. + +"I am an extraordinary man," he said to her, "and you are just as +extraordinary as a woman. You and I together would have a still more +extraordinary child." Madame de Stael evidently did not care to take +part in the manufacture of this prodigy. When George Sand's first novels +appeared, the Saint-Simonians were full of hope. This was the woman they +had been waiting for, the free woman, who having meditated on the lot of +her sisters would formulate the Declaration of the rights and duties +of woman. Adolphe Gueroult was sent to her. He was the editor of the +_Opinion nationale_. George Sand had a great fund of common sense, +though, and once more the little society awaited the Mother in vain. It +was finally decided that she should be sought for in the East. A mission +was organized, and messengers were arrayed in white, as a sign of the +vow of chastity, with a pilgrim's staff in their hand. They begged as +they went along, and slept sometimes outdoors, but more often at the +police-station. George Sand was not tempted by this kind of maternity, +but she kept in touch with the Saint-Simonians. She was present at +one of their meetings at Menilmontant. Her published _Correspondance_ +contains a letter addressed by her to the Saint-Simonian family in +Paris. As a matter of fact, she had received from it, on the 1st of +January, 1836, a large collection of presents. There were in all no less +than fifty-nine articles, among which were the following: a dress-box, a +pair of boots, a thermometer, a carbine-carrier, a pair of trousers and +a corset. + +Saint-Simonism was universally jeered at, but it is quite a mistake to +think that ridicule is detrimental in France. On the contrary, it is an +excellent means of getting anything known and of spreading the knowledge +of it abroad; it is in reality a force. Saint-Simonism is at the root +of many of the humanitarian doctrines which were to spring up from its +ashes. One of its essential doctrines was the diffusion of the soul +throughout all humanity, and another that of being born anew. Enfantin +said: "I can feel St. Paul within me. He lives within me." Still +another of its doctrines was that of the rehabilitation of the flesh. +Saint-Simonism proclaimed the equality of man and woman, that of +industry and art and science, and the necessity of a fresh repartition +of wealth and of a modification of the laws concerning property. It also +advocated increasing the attributions of the State considerably. It was, +in fact, the first of the doctrines offering to the lower classes, +by way of helping them to bear their wretched misery, the ideal of +happiness here below, lending a false semblance of religion to the +desire for material well-being. George Sand had one vulnerable point, +and that was her generosity. By making her believe that she was working +for the outcasts of humanity, she could be led anywhere, and this was +what happened. + +Among other great minds affected by the influence of Saint-Simonism, it +is scarcely surprising to find Lamennais. When George Sand first knew +him, he was fifty-three years of age. He had broken with Rome, and +was the apocalyptic author of _Paroles d'un croyant_. He put into his +revolutionary faith all the fervour of his loving soul, a soul that +had been created for apostleship, and to which the qualification of "a +disaffected cathedral" certainly applied. + +After the famous trial, Liszt took him to call on George Sand in her +attic. This was in 1835. She gives us the following portrait of him: +"Monsieur de Lamennais is short, thin, and looks ill. He seems to have +only the feeblest breath of life in his body, but how his face beams. +His nose is too prominent for his small figure and for his narrow +face. If it were not for this nose out of all proportion, he would be +handsome. He was very easily entertained. A mere nothing made him laugh, +and how heartily he laughed."(32) It was the gaiety of the seminarist, +for Monsieur Feli always remained the _Abbe_ de Lamennais. George Sand +had a passionate admiration for him. She took his side against any one +who attacked him in her third _Lettre d'un voyageur_, in her _Lettre a +Lerminier_, and in her article on _Amshaspands et Darvands_. This is +the title of a book by Lamennais. The extraordinary names refer to the +spirits of good and evil in the mythology of Zoroaster. George Sand +proposed to pronounce them _Chenapans et Pedants_. Although she had +a horror of journalism, she agreed to write in Lamennais' paper, _Le +Monde._ + + (32) _Histoire de ma vie._ + +"He is so good and I like him so much," she writes, "that I would give +him as much of my blood and of my ink as he wants."(33) She did not have +to give him any of her blood, and he did not accept much of her ink. She +commenced publishing her celebrated _Lettres a Marcie_ in _Le Monde_. We +have already spoken of these letters, in order to show how George Sand +gradually attenuated the harshness of her early feminism. + + (33) _Correspondance_: To Jules Janin, February 15, 1837. + +These letters alarmed Lamennais, nevertheless, and she was obliged to +discontinue them. Feminism was the germ of their disagreement. Lamennais +said: "She does not forgive St. Paul for having said: 'Wives, obey your +husbands.'" She continued to acknowledge him as "one of our saints," +but "the father of our new Church" gradually broke away from her and +her friends, and expressed his opinion about her with a severity and +harshness which are worthy of note. + +Lamennais' letters to Baron de Vitrolles contain many allusions to +George Sand, and they are most uncomplimentary. + +"I hear no more about Carlotta" (Madame Marliani), he writes, "nor about +George Sand and Madame d'Agoult. I know there has been a great deal of +quarrelling among them. They are as fond of each other as Lesage's two +_diables_, one of whom said: 'That reconciled us, we kissed each other, +and ever since then we have been mortal enemies.'" He also tells that +there is a report that in her novel, entitled _Horace_, she has given +as unflattering a portrait as possible of her dear, sweet, excellent +friend, Madame d'Agoult, the _Arabella_ of the _Lettres d'un voyageur_. +"The portraits continue," he writes, "all true to life, without being +like each other." In the same book, _Horace_, there is a portrait +of Mallefille, who was beloved "during one quarter of the moon," and +abhorred afterwards. He concludes the letter with the following words: +"Ah, how fortunate I am to be forgotten by those people! I am not afraid +of their indifference, but I should be afraid of their attentions. . . . +Say what you like, my dear friend, those people do not tempt me at all. +Futility and spitefulness dissolved in a great deal of _ennui_, is a +bad kind of medicine." He then goes on to make fun, in terms that it is +difficult to quote, of the silly enthusiasm of a woman like Marliani, +and even of George Sand, for the theories of Pierre Leroux, of which +they did not understand the first letter, but which had taken their +fancy. George Sand may have looked upon Lamennais as a master, but it is +very evident that she was not his favoured disciple. + +It was due to his teaching that George Sand obtained her definite +ideas about Catholicism, or rather against it. She was decidedly its +adversary, because she held that the Church had stifled the spirit of +liberty, that it had thrown a veil over the words of Christ, and that it +was the obstacle in the way of holy equality. What she owed specially, +though, to Lamennais was another lesson, of quite another character. +Lamennais was the man of the nineteenth century who waged the finest +battle against individualism, against "the scandal of the adoration of +man by man."(34) + + (34) Compare Brunetiere, _Evolution de la poesie lyrique_, + vol. i. p. 310. + +Under his influence, George Sand began to attach less importance to the +personal point of view, she ceased applying everything to herself, and +she discovered the importance of the life of others. If we study this +attentively, we shall see that a new phase now commenced in the history +of her ideas. Lamennais was the origin of this transformation, although +it is personified in another man, and that other man, was named Pierre +Leroux. + +What a strange mystery it is, among so many other mysteries, that of one +mind taking possession of another mind. We have come into contact with +great minds which have made no impression on us, whilst other minds, of +secondary intelligence, perhaps, and it may be inferior to our own, have +governed us. + +By the side of a Lamennais, this Pierre Leroux was a very puny +personage. He had been a compositor in a printing works, before founding +the _Globe_. This paper, in his hands, was to become an organ of +Saint-Simonism. He belonged neither to the _bourgeois_ nor to the +working-class. He was Clumsy, not well built, and had an enormous shock +of hair, which was the joy of caricaturists. He was shy and awkward, in +addition to all this. He nevertheless appeared in various _salons_, +and was naturally more or less ridiculous. In January, 1840, Beranger +writes: "You must know that our metaphysician has surrounded himself +with women, at the head of whom are George Sand and Marliani, and that, +in gilded drawing-rooms, under the light of chandeliers, he exposes his +religious principles and his muddy boots." George Sand herself made fun +of this occasionally. In a letter to Madame d'Agoult, she writes: + +"He is very amusing when he describes making his appearance in your +drawing-room of the Rue Laffitte. He says: 'I was all muddy, and quite +ashamed of myself. I was keeping out of sight as much as possible in a +corner. _This lady_ came to me and talked in the kindest way possible. +She is very beautiful.'"(35) + + (35) _Correspondance_: To Madame d'Agoult, October 16, 1837. + +There are two features about him, then, which seem to strike every one, +his unkemptness and his shyness. He expressed his ideas, which were +already obscure, in a form which seemed to make them even more obscure. +It has been said wittily that when digging out his ideas, he buried +himself in them.(36) Later on, when he spoke at public meetings, he was +noted for the nonsense he talked in his interminable and unintelligible +harangues. + + (36) P. Thureau-Dangin, _Histoire de la Monarchie de Juillet._ + +And yet, in spite of all this, the smoke from this mind attracted George +Sand, and became her pillar of light moving on before her. His hazy +philosophy seemed to her as clear as daylight, it appealed to her heart +and to her mind, solved her doubts, and gave her tranquillity, strength, +faith, hope and a patient and persevering love of humanity. It seems as +though, with that marvellous faculty that she had for idealizing always, +she manufactured a Pierre Leroux of her own, who was finer than the real +one. He was needy, but poverty becomes the man who has ideas. He was +awkward, but the contemplative man, on coming down from the region of +thought on to our earth once more, only gropes along. He was not clear, +but Voltaire tells us that when a man does not understand his own words, +he is talking metaphysics. Chopin had personified the artist for her; +Pierre Leroux, with his words as entangled as his hair, figured now to +her as the philosopher. She saw in him the chief and the master. _Tu +duca e tu maestro_. + +In February, 1844, she wrote the following extraordinary lines: "I must +tell you that George Sand is only a pale reflection of Pierre Leroux, a +fanatical disciple of the same ideal, but a disciple mute and fascinated +when listening to his words, and quite prepared to throw all her own +works into the fire, in order to write, talk, think, pray and act under +his inspiration. I am merely the popularizer, with a ready pen and +an impressionable mind, and I try to translate, in my novels, the +philosophy of the master." + +The most extraordinary part about these lines is that they were +absolutely true. The whole secret of the productions of George Sand for +the next ten years is contained in these words. With Pierre Leroux and +Louis Viardot she now founded a review, _La Revue independante_, in +which she could publish, not only novels (beginning with _Horace_, which +Buloz had refused), but articles by which philosophical-socialistic +ideas could have a free course. Better still than this, the novelist +could take the watchword from the sociologist, just as Mascarilla +put Roman history into madrigals, she was able to put Pierre Leroux's +philosophy into novels. + +It would be interesting to know what she saw in Pierre Leroux, and which +of his ideas she approved and preferred. One of the ideas dear to Pierre +Leroux was that of immortality, but an immortality which had very little +in common with Christianity. According to it, we should live again after +death, but in humanity and in another world. The idea of metempsychosis +was very much in vogue at this epoch. According to Jean Reynaud and +Lamennais, souls travelled from star to star, but Pierre Leroux believed +in metempsychosis on earth. + +"We are not only the children and the posterity of those who have +already lived, but we are, at bottom, the anterior generations +themselves. We have gone through former existences which we do not +remember, but it may be that at times we have fragmentary reminiscences +of them." + +George Sand must have been very deeply impressed by this idea. It +inspired her with _Sept cordes de la lyre_, _Spiridion_, _Consuelo_ +and the _Comtesse de Rudolstadt_, the whole cycle of her philosophical +novels. + +The _Sept cordes de la lyre_ is a dramatic poem after the manner of +_Faust_. Maitre Albertus is the old doctor conversing with Mephistocles. +He has a ward, named Helene, and a lyre. A spirit lives in this lyre. +It is all in vain that the painter, the _maestro_, the poet, the critic +endeavour to make the cords vibrate. The lyre remains dumb. Helene, even +without putting her hands on it, can draw from it magnificent harmony; +Helene is mad. All this may seem very incomprehensible to you, and I +must confess that it is so to me. Albertus himself declares: "This has a +poetical sense of a very high order perhaps, but it seems vague to me." +Personally, I am of the same opinion as Albertus. With a little effort, +I might, like any one else, be able to give you an interpretation of +this logogriph, which might appear to have something in it. I prefer +telling you frankly that I do not understand it. The author, perhaps, +did not understand it much better so that it may have been metaphysics. + +I would call your attention, though, to that picture of Helene, with the +magic lyre in her hand, risking her life, by climbing to the spire of +the steeple and uttering her inspiring speech from there. Is not this +something like Solness, the builder, from the top of his tower? Like +Tolstoi, Ibsen had evidently read George Sand and had not forgotten her. + +_Spiridion_ introduces us into a strange convent, in which we see the +portraits come out of their frames and roam about the cloisters. The +founder of the convent, Hebronius, lives again in the person of Father +Alexis, who is no other than Leroux. + +In _Consuelo_ we have the same imagination. We have already considered +the first part of this novel, that which takes place at Venice, in the +schools of music and in the theatres of song. Who would have thought +that the charming diva, the pupil of Porpora, was to have such strange +adventures? She arrives in Bohemia, at the Chateau of Rudolstadt. She +has been warned that extraordinary things take place there. Comte Albert +de Rudolstadt is subject to nervous fits and to great lethargy. He +disappears from the chateau and then reappears, without any one seeing +him go in or out. He believes that he has been Jean Ziska, and this +is probably true. He has been present at events which took place three +hundred years previously, and he describes them. Consuelo discovers +Albert's retreat. It is a cavern hollowed out of a mountain in the +vicinity, which communicates, by means of a well, with his rooms. The +Chateau of Rudolstadt is built on the same architectural plan as Anne +Radcliffe's chateau. After staying for some time in this bewildering +place, Consuelo sets forth once more. She now meets Haydn, goes through +the Bohmer Wald with him, arrives in Venice, is introduced to Maria +Theresa, and is engaged at the Imperial Theatre. She is now recalled to +the Chateau of Rudolstadt. Albert is on his deathbed, and he marries +her _in extremis_, after telling her that he is going to leave her for a +time, but that he shall return to her on earth by a new birth. He, too, +had evidently read Pierre Leroux, and it was perhaps that which had +caused his illness. + +_Consuelo_ is a novel of adventures after the style of _Gil Blas_, the +_Vie de Marianne_, and _Wilkelm Meister_. It is a historical novel, for +which we have Joseph Haydn, Maria Theresa, Baron Trenk, and the whole +history of the Hussites. It is a fantastical story with digressions +on music and on popular songs, but running through it all, with the +persistency of a fixed idea, are divagations on the subject of +earthly metempsychosis. Such, then, is this incongruous story, odd and +exaggerated, but with gleams of light and of great beauty, the reading +of which is apt to leave one weary and disturbed. + +We meet with Consuelo again in another book. In those days, it was not +enough for a novel to consist of several volumes. People liked a sequel +also. _Vingt ans apres_ was the sequel to _Trois Mousquetaires_, and the +_Vicomte de Bragelonne_ was a sequel to that sequel. Our grandparents +were capable of allowing themselves to be bored to a degree which makes +us ashamed of our frivolity. The _Comtesse de Rudolstadt_ was the sequel +to _Consuelo_. As time went on, Pierre Leroux called George Sand's +attention to the study of freemasonry. In 1843, she declared that she +was plunged in it, and that it was a gulf of nonsense and uncertainties, +in which "she was dabbling courageously." + +"I am up to my ears in freemasonry," she writes. "I cannot get away from +the kaddosh, the Rose Croix and the Sublime Scotchman. The result of all +this will be a mysterious novel." The mysterious novel was the _Comtesse +de Rudolstadt_. Consuelo, who through her marriage with Albert is now +Comtesse de Rudolstadt, continues her European tour. She reaches Berlin, +and we find her at the Court of Frederick II. We now have Voltaire, +La Mettrie, the Sans-Souci suppers, Cagliostro, Saint-Germain and the +occult sciences. Frederick II sends Consuelo to prison. There appears +to be no reason for this, unless it be that in order to escape she +must first have been imprisoned. Some mysterious rescuers take a great +interest in Consuelo, and transport her to a strange dwelling, where +she has a whole series of surprises. It is, in fact, a sort of Palace +of Illusions. She is first in a dark room, and she then finds herself +suddenly in a room of dazzling light. "At the far end of this room, +the whole aspect of which is very forbidding, she distinguishes seven +personages, wrapped in red cloaks and wearing masks of such livid +whiteness that they looked like corpses. They were all seated behind a +table of black marble. Just in front of the table, and on a lower seat, +was an eighth spectre. He was dressed in black, and he, too, wore a +white mask. By the wall, on each side of the room, were about twenty men +in black cloaks and masks. There was the most profound silence. Consuelo +turned round and saw that there were also black phantoms behind her. +At each door there were two of them standing up, each holding a huge, +bright sword."(37) + + (37) _Comtesse de Rudolstadt._ + +She wondered whether she had reached the infernal regions, but she +discovered that she was in the midst of a secret society, styled the +Invisibles. Consuelo is to go through all the various stages of the +initiation. She first puts on the bridal dress, and after this the +widow's weeds. She undergoes all the various trials, and has to witness +the different spectacles provided for her edification, including +coffins, funeral palls, spectres and simulated tortures. The description +of all the various ceremonies takes up about half of the book. George +Sand's object was to show up this movement of secret societies, which +was such a feature of the eighteenth century, and which was directed +both against monarchical power and against the Church. It contributed to +prepare the way for the Revolution, and gave to this that international +character and that mystic allure which would otherwise have been +incomprehensible. + +From _Spiridion_ to the _Comtesse de Rudolstadt_, then, we have this +series of fantastical novels with ghosts, subterranean passages, secret +hiding-places, hallucinations and apparitions. The unfortunate part is +that at present we scarcely know to what category of readers they would +appeal. As regards grown-up people, we all prefer something with a +vestige of truth in it now-a-days. As to our children, they would prefer +_Monte-Cristo_ to _Consuelo_, and _Tom Thumb_ to _Spiridion_. At the +time that they were written, in spite of the fact that Buloz protested +against all this philosophy, these novels were quite in accordance with +the public taste. A mania for anything fantastic had taken possession +of the most serious people. Ballanche wrote his _La Palingenesie_, and +Edgar Quinet _Ahasverus_. Things took place through the ages, and the +reader travelled through the immensity of the centuries, just as though +Wells had already invented his machine for exploring time. In a country +like France, where clear-mindedness and matter-of-fact intelligence are +appreciated, all this seems surprising. It was no doubt the result of +infiltrations which had come from abroad. There was something wrong with +us just then, "something rotten in the kingdom of France." We see this +by that fever of socialistic doctrines which burst forth among us about +the year 1840. We have the _Phalanstere_ by Fourier, _La Phalange_ +by Considerant, the _Icarie_ by Cabet, and his famous _Voyage_, which +appeared that very year. We were always to be devoured by the State, +accompanied by whatever sauce we preferred. The State was always to find +us shelter, to dress us, to govern us and to tyrannize over us. There +was the State as employer, the State as general storekeeper, the State +to feed us; all this was a dream of bliss. Buonarotti, formerly Babeuf's +accomplice, preached Communism. Louis Blanc published his _Organisation +du travail_, in which he calls to his aid a political revolution, +foretaste of a social revolution. Proudhon published his _Memoire sur la +propriete_, containing the celebrated phrase: "Property means theft." +He declared himself an anarchist, and as a matter of fact anarchy was +already everywhere. A fresh evil had suddenly made its appearance, and, +by a cruel irony, it was the logical consequence of that industrial +development of which the century was so proud. The result of all that +wealth had been to create a new form of misery, an envious, jealous form +of misery, much more cruel than the former one, for it filled the heart +with a ferment of hatred, a passion for destruction. + +It was Pierre Leroux, also, who led George Sand on to Socialism. She had +been on the way to it by herself. For a long time she had been raising +an altar in her heart to that entity called the People, and she had been +adorning it with all the virtues. The future belonged to the people, the +whole of the future, and first of all that of literature. + +Poetry was getting a little worn out, but to restore its freshness there +were the poets of the people. Charles Poncy, of Toulon, a bricklayer, +published a volume of poetry, in 1842, entitled _Marines_. George Sand +adopted him. He was the demonstration of her theory, the example which +illustrated her dream. She congratulated him and encouraged him. "You +are a great poet," she said to him, and she thereupon speaks of him to +all her friends. "Have you read Baruch?" she asks them. "Have you read +Poncy, a poet bricklayer of twenty years of age?" She tells every one +about his book, dwells on its beauties, and asks people to speak of it. + +As a friend of George Sand, I have examined the poems by Poncy of which +she specially speaks. The first one is entitled _Meditation sur les +toits_. The poet has been obliged to stay on the roof to complete his +work, and while there he meditates. + +_"Le travail me retient bien tard sur ces toitures_. . . ." + +He then begins to wonder what he would see if, like Asmodee in the +_Diable boiteux_, he could have the roof taken off, so that the various +rooms could be exposed to view. Alas! he would not always find the +concord of the Golden Age. + + _Que de fois contemolant cet amas de maisons + Quetreignent nos remparts couronnes de gazons, + Et ces faubourgs naissants que la ville trop pleine + Pour ses enfants nouveaux eleve dans la plaine. + Immobiles troufieaux ou notre clocher gris + Semble un patre au milieu de ses blanches brebis, + Jai pense que, malgre notre angoisse et nos peines, + Sous ces toits paternels il existait des haines, + Et que des murs plus forts que ces murs mitoyens + Separent ici-bas les coeurs des citoyens._ + +This was an appeal to concord, and all brothers of humanity were invited +to rally to the watchword. + +The intention was no doubt very good. Then, too, _murs mitoyens_ was +an extremely rich and unexpected rhyme for _citoyens_. This was worthy +indeed of a man of that party. + +Another of the poems greatly admired by George Sand was _Le Forcat_. + + _Regarder le forcat sur la poutre equarrie + Poser son sein hale que le remords carie_. . . + +Certainly if Banville were to lay claim to having invented rhymes that +are puns, we could only say that he was a plagiarist after reading +Charles Poncy. + +In another poem addressed to the rich, entitled _L'hiver_, the poet +notices with grief that the winter + + . . . _qui remplit les salons, les Watres, + Remplit aussi la Morgue et les amphitheatres._ + +He is afraid that the people will, in the end, lose their patience, and +so he gives to the happy mortals on this earth the following counsel: + + _Riches, a vos plaisirs faites participer + L'homme que les malheurs s'acharnent a frapper + Oh, faites travailler le pere de famille, + Pour qu'il puisse arbiter la pudeur de sa fille, + Pourqu'aux petits enfants maigris par les douleurs + Il rapporte, le soir, le pain et non des pleurs, + Afin que son epouse, au desespoir en proie, + Se ranime a sa vue et l'embrasse avec joie, + Afin qua l'Eternel, a l'heure de sa mort. + Vous n'offriez pas un coeur carie de remords_. + +The expression certainly leaves much to be desired in these poems, but +they are not lacking in eloquence. We had already had something of this +kind, though, written by a poet who was not a bricklayer. He, too, had +asked the rich the question following: + + _Dans vos fetes d'hiver, riches, heureux du monde, + Quand le bal tournoyant de ses feux vous inonde. . . + Songez-vous qu'il est la, sous le givre et la neige, + Ce pere sans travail que la famine assiege?_ + +He advises them to practise charity, the sister of prayer. + + "_Donnez afin qu'un jour, a votre derniere heure, + Contre tous vos peches vous ayez la Priere + D'un mendiant puissant au ciel_." + +We cannot, certainly, expect Poncy to be a Victor Hugo. But as we had +Victor Hugo's verses, of what use was it for them to be rewritten by +Poncy? My reason for quoting a few of the fine lines from _Feuilles +d'automne_ is that I felt an urgent need of clearing away all these +platitudes. Poncy was not the only working-man poet. Other trades +produced their poets too. The first poem in _Marines_ is addressed to +Durand, a poet carpenter, who introduces himself as "_Enfant de la foret +qui ceint Fontainebleau_." + +This man handled the plane and the lyre, just as Poncy did the trowel +and the lyre. + +This poetry of the working-classes was to give its admirers plenty of +disappointment. George Sand advised Poncy to treat the things connected +with his trade, in his poetry. "Do not try to put on other men's +clothes, but let us see you in literature with the plaster on your hands +which is natural to you and which interests us," she said to him. + +Proud of his success with the ladies of Paris, Poncy wanted to wash +his hands, put on a coat, and go into society. It was all in vain that +George Sand beseeched Poncy to remain the poet of humanity. She exposed +to him the dogma of impersonality in such fine terms, that more than one +_bourgeois_ poet might profit by what she said. + +"An individual," she said, "who poses as a poet, as a pure artist, as +a god like most of our great men do, whether they be _bourgeois_ or +aristocrats, soon tires us with his personality. . . . Men are only +interested in a man when that man is interested in humanity." + +This was all of no use, though, for Poncy was most anxious to treat +other subjects rather more lively and--slightly libertine. His literary +godmother admonished him. + +"You are dedicating to _Juana l'Espagnole_ and to various other +fantastical beauties verses that I do not approve. Are you a _bourgeois_ +poet or a poet of the people? If the former, you can sing in honour of +all the voluptuousness and all the sirens of the universe, without ever +having known either. You can sup with the most delicious houris or +with all the street-walkers, in your poems, without ever leaving +your fireside or having seen any greater beauty than the nose of your +hall-porter. These gentlemen write their poetry in this way, and their +rhyming is none the worse for it. But if you are a child of the people +and the poet of the people, you ought not to leave the chaste breast of +Desiree, in order to run about after dancing-girls and sing about their +voluptuous arms."(38) + + (38) See the letters addressed to Charles Poncy in the + _Correspondance._ + +It is to be hoped that Poncy returned to the chaste Desiree. But why +should he not read to the young woman the works of Pierre Leroux? +We need a little gaiety in our life. In George Sand's published +_Correspondance_, we only have a few of her letters to Charles Poncy. +They are all in excellent taste. There is an immense correspondence +which M. Rocheblave will publish later on. This will be a treat for us, +and it will no doubt prove that there was a depth of immense candour in +the celebrated authoress. + +It does not seem to me that the writings of the working-men poets have +greatly enriched French literature. Fortunately George Sand's sympathy +with the people found its way into literature in another way, and this +time in a singularly interesting way. She did not get the books written +by the people themselves, but she put the people into books. This was +the plan announced by George Sand in her preface to the _Compagnon du +tour de France_. There is an entirely fresh literature to create, she +writes, "with the habits and customs of the people, as these are so +little known by the other classes." The _Compagnon du tour de France_ +was the first attempt at this new literature of the people. George Sand +had obtained her documents for this book from a little work which +had greatly struck her, entitled _Livre du compagnonnage_, written by +Agricol Perdiguier, surnamed Avignonnais-la-Vertu, who was a _compagnon_ +carpenter. Agricol Perdiguier informs us that the _Compagnons_ were +divided into three chief categories: the _Gavots_, the _Devorants_ +and the _Drilles_, or the _Enfants de Salomon_, the _Enlants de Maitre +Jacques_ and the _Enfants du_ _Pere Soubise_. He then describes the +rites of this order. When two _Compagnons_ met, their watchword was +"_Tope_." After this they asked each other's trade, and then they went +to drink a glass together. If a _Compagnon_ who was generally respected +left the town, the others gave him what was termed a "conduite en +regle." If it was thought that he did not deserve this, he had a +"conduite de Grenoble." Each _Compagnon_ had a surname, and among such +surnames we find _The Prudence of Draguignan_, _The Flower of Bagnolet_ +and _The Liberty of Chateauneuf_. The unfortunate part was that among +the different societies, instead of the union that ought to have +reigned, there were rivalries, quarrels, fights, and sometimes all this +led to serious skirmishes; Agricol Perdiguier undertook to preach to +the different societies peace and tolerance. He went about travelling +through France with this object in view. His second expedition was-at +George Sand's expense. + +A fresh edition of his book contained the letters of approval addressed +to him by those who approved his campaign. Among these signatures +are the following: Nantais-Pret-a-bien-faire, Bourgignonla-Felicite, +Decide-le-Briard. All this is a curious history of the syndicates of the +nineteenth century. Agricol Perdiguier may have seen the _Confederation +du Travail_ dawning in the horizon. + +In the _Compagnon du Tour de France_, Pierre Huguenin, a +carpenter, travels about among all these different societies of the +_Compagnonnage_, and lets us see something of their competition, +rivalries, battles, etc. He is then sent for to the Villepreux Chateau, +to do some work. The noble Yseult falls in love with this fine-talking +carpenter, and at once begs him to make her happy by marrying her. + +In the _Meunier d'Angibault_ it is a working locksmith, Henri Lemor, who +falls in love with Marcelle de Blanchemont. Born to wealth, she regrets +that she is not the daughter or the mother of workingmen. Finally, +however, she loses her fortune, and rejoices in this event. The +personage who stands out in relief in this novel is the miller, Grand +Louis. He is always gay and contented, with a smile on his lips, singing +lively songs and giving advice to every one. + +In the _Peche de M. Antoine_, the _role_ of Grand Louis falls to Jean +the carpenter. In this story all the people are communists, with the +exception of the owner of the factory, who, in consequence, is treated +with contempt. His son Emile marries the daughter of Monsieur Antoine. +Her name is Gilberte, and a silly old man, the Marquis de Boisguilbaut, +leaves her all his money, on condition that the young couple found a +colony of agriculturists in which there shall be absolute communism. All +these stories, full of eloquence and dissertations on the misfortune +of being rich and the corrupting influence of wealth, would be +insufferable, if it were not for the fact that the Angibault mill were +in the Black Valley, and the crumbling chateau, belonging to Monsieur +Antoine, on the banks of the Creuse. + +They are very poor novels, and it would be a waste of time to attempt +to defend them. They are not to be despised, though, as regards their +influence on the rest of George Sand's work, and also as regards the +history of the French novel. They rendered great service to George +Sand, inasmuch as they helped her to come out of herself and to turn her +attention to the miseries of other people, instead of dwelling all the +time on her own. The miseries she now saw were more general ones, and +consequently more worthy of interest. In the history of the novel they +are of capital importance, as they are the first ones to bring into +notice, by making them play a part, people of whom novelists had never +spoken. Before Eugene Sue and before Victor Hugo, George Sand gives a +_role_ to a mason, a carpenter and a joiner. We see the working-class +come into literature in these novels, and this marks an era. + +As to their socialistic influence, it is supposed by many people that +they had none. The kind of socialism that consists of making tinkers +marry marchionesses, and duchesses marry zinc-workers, seems very +childish and very feminine. It is just an attempt at bringing about the +marriage of classes. This socialistic preaching, by means of literature, +cannot be treated so lightly, though, as it is by no means harmless. It +is, on the contrary, a powerful means of diffusing doctrines to which +it lends the colouring of imagination, and for which it appeals to the +feelings. George Sand propagated the humanitarian dream among a whole +category of men and women who read her books. But for her, they would +probably have turned a deaf ear to the inducements held out to them with +regard to this Utopia. Lamartine with his _Girondins_ reconciled the +_bourgeois_ classes to the idea of the Revolution. In both cases the +effect was the same, and it is just this which literature does in +affairs of this kind. Its _role_ consists here in creating a sort of +snobbism, and this snobbism, created by literature in favour of all the +elements of social destruction, continues to rage at present. We still +see men smiling indulgently and stupidly at doctrines of revolt and +anarchy, which they ought to repudiate, not because of their own +interest, but because it is their duty to repudiate them with all +the strength of their own common sense and rectitude. Instead of any +arguments, we have facts to offer. All this was in 1846, and the time +was now drawing near when George Sand was to see those novels of hers +actually taking place in the street, so that she could throw down to the +rioters the bulletins that she wrote in their honour. + + + + +VIII + +1848 + +GEORGE SAND AND THE PROVISIONAL GOVERNMENT--HER PASTORAL NOVELS + + +IN 1846, George Sand published _Le Peche de M. Antoine_. It was a very +dull story of a sin, for sins are not always amusing. The same year, +though, she published _La Mare au Diable_. People are apt to say, when +comparing the socialistic novels and the pastoral novels by George Sand, +that the latter are superb, because they are the result of a conception +of art that was quite disinterested, as the author had given up her +preaching mania, and devoted herself to depicting people that she knew +and things that she liked, without any other care than that of painting +them well. Personally, I think that this was not so. George Sand's +pastoral style is not essentially different from her socialistic style. +The difference is only in the success of the execution, but the ideas +and the intentions are the same. George Sand is continuing her mission +in them, she is going on with her humanitarian dream, that dream which +she dreamed when awake. + +We have a proof of this in the preface of the author to the reader with +which the _Mare au Diable_ begins. This preface would be disconcerting +to any one who does not remember the intellectual atmosphere in which it +was written. + +People have wondered by what fit of imagination George Sand, when +telling such a wholesome story of country life, should evoke the ghastly +vision of Holbein's Dance of Death. It is the close of day, the horses +are thin and exhausted, there is an old peasant, and, skipping about in +the furrows near the team, is Death, the only lively, careless, +nimble being in this scene of "sweat and weariness." She gives us the +explanation of it herself. She wanted to show up the ideal of the new +order of things, as opposed to the old ideal, as translated by the +ghastly dance. + +"We have nothing more to do with death," she writes, "but with life. We +no longer believe in the _neant_ of the tomb, nor in salvation bought by +enforced renunciation. We want life to be good, because we want it to be +fertile. . . . Every one must be happy, so that the happiness of a few +may not be criminal and cursed by God." This note we recognize as the +common feature of all the socialistic Utopias. It consists in taking the +opposite basis to that on which the Christian idea is founded. Whilst +Christianity puts off, until after death, the possession of happiness, +transfiguring death by its eternal hopes, Socialism places its Paradise +on earth. It thus runs the risk of leaving all those without any +recourse who do not find this earth a paradise, and it has no answer to +give to the lamentations of incurable human misery. + +George Sand goes on to expose to us the object of art, as she +understands it. She believes that it is for pleading the cause of the +people. + +She does not consider that her _confreres_ in novel-writing and in +Socialism set about their work in the best way. They paint poverty that +is ugly and vile, and sometimes even vicious and criminal. How is it to +be expected that the bad, rich man will take pity on the sorrows of +the poor man, if this poor man is always presented to him as an escaped +convict or a night loafer? It is very evident that the people, as +presented to us in the _Mysteres de Paris_, are not particularly +congenial to us, and we should have no wish to make the acquaintance of +the "Chourineur." In order to bring about conversions, George Sand has +more faith in gentle, agreeable people, and, in conclusion, she tells +us: "We believe that the mission of art is a mission of sentiment and +of love, and that the novel of to-day ought to take the place of the +parable and the apologue of more primitive times." The object of the +artist, she tells us, "is to make people appreciate what he presents to +them." With that end in view, he has a right to embellish his subjects +a little. "Art," we are told, "is not a study of positive reality; it is +the seeking for ideal truth." Such is the point of view of the author of +_La Mare au Diable_, which we are invited to consider as a parable and +an apologue. + +The parable is clear enough, and the apologue is eloquent. The novel +commences with that fine picture of the ploughing of the fields, so rich +in description and so broadly treated that there seems to be nothing in +French literature to compare with it except the episode of the Labourers +in _Jocelyn_. When _Jocelyn_ was published, George Sand was severe in +her criticism of it, treating it as poor work, false in sentiment and +careless in style. "In the midst of all this, though," she adds, "there +are certain pages and chapters such as do not exist in any language, +pages that I read seven times over, crying all the time like a donkey." +I fancy that she must have cried over the episode of the _Labourers_. +Whether she remembered it or not when writing her own book little +matters. My only reason for mentioning it is to point out the affinity +of genius between Lamartine and George Sand, both of them so admirable +in imagining idylls and in throwing the colours of their idyllic +imagination on to reality. + +I have ventured, to analyze the _Comtesse de Rudolstadt_ and even +_Consuelo_, but I shall not be guilty of the bad taste of telling the +story of _La Mare au Diable_, as all the people of that neighbourhood +are well known to us, and have been our friends for a long time. We are +all acquainted with Germain, the clever farm-labourer, with Marie, the +shepherdess, and with little Pierre. We remember how they climbed the +_Grise_, lost their way in the mist, and were obliged to spend the night +under the great oak-trees. When we were only about fifteen years of age, +with what delight we read this book, and how we loved that sweet Marie +for her simple grace and her affection, which all seemed so maternal. +How much better we liked her than the Widow Guerin, who was so snobbish +with her three lovers. And how glad we were to be present at that +wedding, celebrated according to the custom in Berry from time +immemorial. + +It is easy to see the meaning of all these things. They show us how +natural kindliness is to the heart of man. If we try to find out why +Germain and Marie appear so delightful to us, we shall discover that it +is because they are simple-hearted, and follow the dictates of Nature. +Nature must not be deformed, therefore, by constraint nor transformed by +convention, as it leads straight to virtue. + +We have heard the tune of this song before, and we have seen the +blossoming of some very fine pastoral poems and a veritable invasion of +sentimental literature. In those days tears were shed plentifully +over poetry, novels and plays. We have had Bernardin de Saint-Pierre, +Sedaine, Florian and Berquin. The Revolution, brutal and sanguinary as +it was, did not interrupt the course of these romantic effusions. Never +were so many tender epithets used as during the years of the Reign of +Terror, and in official processions Robespierre was adorned with flowers +like a village bride. + +This taste for pastoral things, at the time of the Revolution, was not a +mere coincidence. The same principles led up to the idyll in literature +and to the Revolution in history. Man was supposed to be naturally good, +and the idea was to take away from him all the restraints which had +been invented for curbing his nature. Political and religious authority, +moral discipline and the prestige of tradition had all formed a kind of +network of impediments, by which man had been imprisoned by legislators +who were inclined to pessimism. By doing away with all these fetters, +the Golden Age was to be restored and universal happiness was to be +established. Such was the faith of the believers in the millennium +of 1789, and of 1848. The same dream began over and over again, from +Diderot to Lamartine and from Jean-Jacques to George Sand. The same +state of mind which we see reflected in _La Mare au Diable_ was to make +of George Sand the revolutionary writer of 1848. We can now understand +the _role_ which the novelist played in the second Republic. It is +one of the most surprising pages in the history of this extraordinary +character. + +The joy with which George Sand welcomed the Republic can readily be +imagined. She had been a Republican ever since the days of Michel of +Bourges, and a democrat since the time when, as a little girl, she took +the side of her plebeian mother against "the old Countesses." For a long +time she had been wishing for and expecting a change of government. +She would not have been satisfied with less than this. She was not much +moved by the Thiers-Guizot duel, and it would have given her no pleasure +to be killed for the sake of Odilon Barrot. She was a disciple of +Romanticism, and she wanted a storm. When the storm broke, carrying all +before it, a throne, a whole society with its institutions, she hurried +away from her peaceful Nohant. She wanted to breathe the atmosphere of a +revolution, and she was soon intoxicated by it. + +"Long live the Republic," she wrote in her letters. "What a dream and +what enthusiasm, and then, too, what behaviour, what order in Paris. I +have just arrived, and I saw the last of the barricades. The people are +great, sublime, simple and generous, the most admirable people in the +universe. I spent nights without any sleep and days without sitting +down. Every one was wild and intoxicated with delight, for after going +to sleep in the mire they have awakened in heaven."(39) + + (39) _Correspondance: _ To Ch. Poncy, March 9, 1848. + +She goes on dreaming thus of the stars. Everything she hears, everything +she sees enchants her. The most absurd measures delight her. She either +thinks they are most noble, liberal steps to have taken, or else they +are very good jokes. + +"Rothschild," she writes, "expresses very fine sentiments about liberty +at present. The Provisional Government is keeping him in sight, as it +does not wish him to make off with his money, and so will put some +of the troops on his track. The most amusing things are happening." A +little later on she writes: "The Government and the people expect to +have bad deputies, but they have agreed to put them through the window. +You must come, and we will go and see all this and have fun."(40) + + (40) _Correspondance:_ To Maurice Sand, March 24, 1848. + +She was thoroughly entertained, and that is very significant. We must +not forget the famous phrase that sounded the death-knell of the July +monarchy, "La France s'ennuie." France had gone in for a revolution by +way of being entertained. + +George Sand was entertained, then, by what was taking place. She went +down into the street where there was plenty to see. In the mornings +there were the various coloured posters to be read. These had been put +up in the night, and they were in prose and in verse. + +Processions were also organized, and men, women and children, with +banners unfurled, marched along to music to the Hotel de Ville, carrying +baskets decorated with ribbons and flowers. Every corporation and +every profession considered itself bound in honour to congratulate the +Government and to encourage it in its well-doing. One day the procession +would be of the women who made waistcoats or breeches, another day +of the water-carriers, or of those who had been decorated in July +or wounded in February; then there were the pavement-layers, the +washerwomen, the delegates from the Paris night-soil men. There were +delegates, too, from the Germans, Italians, Poles, and most of the +inhabitants of Montmartre and of Batignolles. We must not forget the +trees of Liberty, as George Sand speaks of meeting with three of these +in one day. "Immense pines," she writes, "carried on the shoulders of +fifty working-men. A drum went first, then the flag, followed by bands +of these fine tillers of the ground, strong-looking, serious men with +wreaths of leaves on their head, and a spade, pick-axe or hatchet over +their shoulder. It was magnificent; finer than all the _Roberts_ in the +world."(41) Such was the tone of her letters. + + (41) _Correspondance._ + +She had the Opera from her windows and an Olympic circus at every +cross-road. Paris was certainly _en fete_. In the evenings it was just +as lively. There were the Clubs, and there were no less than three +hundred of these. Society women could go to them and hear orators +in blouses proposing incendiary movements, which made them shudder +deliciously. Then there were the theatres. Rachel, draped in antique +style, looking like a Nemesis, declaimed the _Marseillaise_. And all +night long the excitement continued. The young men organized torchlight +processions, with fireworks, and insisted on peaceably-inclined citizens +illuminating. It was like a National Fete day, or the Carnival, +continuing all the week. + +All this was the common, everyday aspect of Paris, but there were the +special days as well to break the monotony of all this. There were +the manifestations, which had the great advantage of provoking +counter-manifestations. On the 16th of March, there was the +manifestation of the National Guard, who were tranquil members of +society, but on the 17th there was a counter-manifestation of the Clubs +and workingmen. On such days the meeting-place would be at the Bastille, +and from morning to night groups, consisting of several hundred thousand +men, would march about Paris, sometimes in favour of the Assembly +against the Provisional Government, and sometimes in favour of the +Provisional Government against the Assembly. On the 17th of April, +George Sand was in the midst of the crowd, in front of the Hotel de +Ville, in order to see better. On the 15th of May, as the populace was +directing its efforts against the Palais Bourbon, she was in the Rue de +Bourgogne, in her eagerness not to miss anything. As she was passing +in front of a _cafe_, she saw a woman haranguing the crowd in a very +animated way from one of the windows. She was told that this woman +was George Sand. Women were extremely active in this Revolution. They +organized a Legion for themselves, and were styled _"Les Vesuviennes_." +They had their clubs, their banquets and their newspapers. George Sand +was far from approving all this feminine agitation, but she did +not condemn it altogether. She considered that "women and children, +disinterested as they are in all political questions, are in more direct +intercourse with the spirit that breathes from above over the agitations +of this world."(42) It was for them, therefore, to be the inspirers of +politics. George Sand was one of these inspirers. In order to judge what +counsels this Egeria gave, we have only to read some of her letters. +On the 4th of March, she wrote as follows to her friend Girerd: "Act +vigorously, my dear brother. In our present situation, we must have even +more than devotion and loyalty; we must have fanaticism if necessary." +In conclusion, she says that he is not to hesitate "in sweeping away +all that is of a _bourgeois_ nature." In April she wrote to Lamartine, +reproaching him with his moderation and endeavouring to excite his +revolutionary spirit. Later on, although she was not of a very warlike +disposition, she regretted that they had not, like their ancestors of +1793, cemented their Revolution at home by a war with the nations. + + (42) _Correspondance:_ To the Citizen Thore, May 28, 1848. + +"If, instead of following Lamartine's stupid, insipid policy," she then +wrote, "we had challenged all absolute monarchies, we should have had +war outside, but union at home, and strength, in consequence of this, +it home and abroad."(43) Like the great ancestors, she declared that the +revolutionary idea is neither that of a sect nor of a party. "It is a +religion," she says, "that we want to proclaim." All this zeal, this +passion and this persistency in a woman is not surprising, but one does +not feel much confidence in a certain kind of inspiration for politics +after all this. + + (43) _Correspondance:_ To Mazzini, October 10, 1849. + +My reason for dwelling on the subject is that George Sand did not +content herself with merely looking on at the events that were taking +place, or even with talking about them with her friends. She took part +in the events, by means of her pen. She scattered abroad all kinds of +revolutionary writings. On the 7th of March, she published her first +_Letter to the People_, at the price of a penny, the profits of which +were to be distributed among working-men without employment. After +congratulating these great and good people on their noble victory, she +tells them they are all going to seek together for the truth of things. +That was exactly the state of the case. They did not yet know what they +wanted, but, in the mean time, while they were considering, they had +at any rate begun with a revolution. There was a second _Letter to the +People_, and then these ceased. Publications in those days were very +short-lived. They came to life again, though, sometimes from their +ashes. In April a newspaper was started, entitled _The Cause of the +People_. This was edited almost entirely by George Sand. She wrote the +leading article: _Sovereignty is Equality_. She reproduced her first +_Letter to the People_, gave an article on the aspect of the streets of +Paris, and another on theatrical events. She left to her collaborator, +Victor Borie, the task of explaining that the increase of taxes was an +eminently republican measure, and an agreeable surprise for the person +who had to pay them. The third number of this paper contained a one-act +play by George Sand, entitled _Le Roi attend_. This had just been given +at the Comedie-Francaise, or at the Theatre de la Republique, as it +was then called. It had been a gratis performance, given on the 9th of +April, 1848, as a first national representation. The actors at that time +were Samson, Geffroy, Regnier, Anais, Augustine Brohan and Rachel. There +were not many of them, but they had some fine things to interpret. + +In George Sand's piece, Moliere was at work with his servant, Laforet, +who could not read, but without whom, it appears, he could not have +written a line. He has not finished his play, the actors have not learnt +their parts, and the king is impatient at being kept waiting. Moliere is +perplexed, and, not knowing what to do, he decides to go to sleep. The +Muse appears to him, styles him "the light of the people," and brings to +him all the ghosts of the great poets before him. AEschylus, Sophocles, +Euripides and Shakespeare all declare to him that, in their time, they +had all worked towards preparing the Revolution of 1848. Moliere then +wakes up, and goes on to the stage to pay his respects to the king. The +king has been changed, though. "I see a king," says Moliere, "but his +name is not Louis XIV. It is the people, the sovereign people. That is a +word I did not know, a word as great as eternity." + +We recognize the democrat in all this. _Le Roi_ _attend_ may be +considered as an authentic curiosity of revolutionary art. The newspaper +announced to its readers that subscriptions could be paid in the Rue +Richelieu. Subscribers were probably not forthcoming, as the paper died +a natural death after the third number. + +George Sand did much more than this, though.(44) We must not forget that +she was an official publicist in 1848. She had volunteered her +services to Ledru-Rollin, and he had accepted them. "I am as busy as +a statesman," she wrote at this time. "I have already written two +Government circulars."(45) + + (44) With regard to George Sand's _role_, see _La Revolution + de_ 1848, by Daniel Stern (Madame d'Agoult). + + (45) _Correspondance:_ To Maurice Sand, March 24, 1848. + +With George Sand's collaboration, the _Bulletin de la Republique_ became +unexpectedly interesting. This paper was published every other day, +by order of Ledru-Rollin, and was intended to establish a constant +interchange of ideas and sentiments between the Government and the +people. "It was specially addressed to the people of rural districts, +and was in the form of a poster that the mayor of the place could have +put up on the walls, and also distribute to the postmen to be given +away. The _Bulletins_ were anonymous, but several of them were certainly +written by George Sand. The seventh is one of these, and also the +twelfth. The latter was written with a view to drawing the attention +of the public to the wretched lot of the women and girls of the lower +classes, who were reduced to prostitution by the lowness of their wages. +Their virginity is an object of traffic," we are told, "quoted on the +exchange of infamy." The sixteenth _Bulletin_ was simply an appeal for +revolt. George Sand was looking ahead to what ought to take place, in +case the elections did not lead to the triumph of social truth. "The +people," she hoped, "would know their duty. There would, in that case, +be only one way of salvation for the people who had erected barricades, +and that would be to manifest their will a second time, and so adjourn +the decisions of a representation that was not national." This was +nothing more nor less than the language of another Fructidor. And we +know what was the result of words in those days. The _Bulletin_ was +dated the 15th, and on the 17th the people were on the way to the Hotel +de Ville. These popular movements cannot always be trusted, though, as +they frequently take an unexpected turn, and even change their direction +when on the way. It happened this time that the manifestation turned +against those who were its instigators. Shouts were heard that day in +Paris of _"Death to the Communists"_ and _"Down with Cabet_." George +Sand could not understand things at all. This was not in the programme, +and she began to have her doubts about the future of the Republic--the +real one, that of her friends. + +It was much worse on the 15th of May, the day which was so fatal to +Barbes, for he played the part of hero and of dupe on that eventful day. +Barbes was George Sand's idol at that time. + +It was impossible for her to be without one, although, with her vivid +imagination, she changed her idols frequently. With her idealism, she +was always incarnating in some individual the perfections that she was +constantly imagining. It seems as though she exteriorized the needs of +her own mind and put them into an individual who seemed suitable to +her for the particular requirements of that moment. At the time of the +monarchy, Michel of Bourges and Pierre Leroux had been able to play the +part, the former of a radical theorician and the latter of the mystical +forerunner of the new times. At present Barbes had come on to the scene. + +He was a born conspirator, the very man for secret societies. He had +made his career by means of prisons, or rather he had made prison his +career, In 1835, he had commenced by helping thirty of the prisoners of +April to escape from Sainte-Pelagie. At that time he was affiliated to +the _Societe des Familles_. The police discovered a whole arsenal of +powder and ammunition at the house in the Rue de Lourcine, and Barbes +was condemned to prison for a year and sent to Carcassonne, where he had +relatives. When he left prison, the _Societe des Saisons_ had taken the +place of the _Societe des Familles_. With Blanqui's approval, Barbes +organized the insurrection of May 12 and 13, 1830. This time blood was +shed. In front of the Palais de Justice, the men, commanded by Barbes, +had invited Lieutenant Droulneau to let them enter. The officer replied +that he would die first. He was immediately shot, but Barbes was +sentenced to death for this. Thanks to the intervention of Lamartine +and Victor Hugo, his life was spared, but he was imprisoned at Mont +Saint-Michel until 1843, and afterwards at Nimes. On the 28th of +February, 1848, the Governor of Nimes prison informed him that he was +free. He was more surprised and embarrassed than pleased by this news. + +"I was quite bewildered," he owned later on, "by this idea of leaving +prison. I looked at my prison bed, to which I had grown so accustomed. I +looked at my blanket and at my pillow and at all my belongings, hung +so carefully at the foot of my bed." He asked permission to stay there +another day. He had become accustomed to everything, and when once he +was out again, and free, he was like a man who feels ill at ease. + +He took part in the affair of the 15th of May, and this is what gives +a tragic, and at the same time comic, character to the episode. Under +pretext of manifesting in favour of Poland, the National Assembly was +to be invaded. Barbes did not approve of this manifestation, and +had decided to keep out of it. Some people cannot be present at a +revolutionary scene without taking part in it, and without soon wanting +to play the chief part in it. The excitement goes to their head. Barbes +seems to have been obeying in instinct over which he had no control, +for, together with a workman named Albert, he headed the procession +which was to march from the Chamber of Deputies to the Hotel de Ville +and establish a fresh Provisional Government. He had already commenced +composing the proclamations to be thrown through the windows to the +people, after the manner of the times, when suddenly Lamartine appeared +on the scene with Ledru-Rollin and a captain in the artillery. The +following dialogue then took place: + +"Who are you?" + +"A member of the Provisional Government." + +"Of the Government of yesterday or of to-day?" + +"Of the one of to-day." + +"In that case I arrest you." + +Barbes was taken to Vincennes. He had been free rather less than +three months, when he returned to prison as though it were his natural +dwelling-place. + +George Sand admired him just as much after this as before. For her, the +great man of the Revolution was neither Ledru-Rollin, Lamartine, nor +even Louis-Blanc; it was Barbes. She compared him to Joan of Arc and to +Robespierre. To her, he was much more than a mere statesman, this man of +conspiracies and dungeons, ever mysterious and unfortunate, always +ready for a drama or a romance. In her heart she kept an altar for this +martyr, and never thought of wondering whether, after all, this idol and +hero were not a mere puppet. + +The skirmish of May 15 undeceived George Sand very considerably. The +June insurrection and the civil war, with blood flowing in the Paris +streets, those streets which were formerly so lively and amusing, caused +her terrible grief. From henceforth her letters were full of her sadness +and discouragement. The most gloomy depression took the place of her +former enthusiasm. It had only required a few weeks for this change to +take place. In February she had been so proud of France, and now she +felt that she was to be pitied for being a Frenchwoman. It was all +so sad, and she was so ashamed. There was no one to count upon now. +Lamartine was a chatterer; Ledru-Rollin was like a woman; the people +were ignorant and ungrateful, so that the mission of literary people was +over. She therefore took refuge in fiction, and buried herself in her +dreams of art. We are not sorry to follow her there. + +_Francois le Champi_ appeared as a serial in the _Journal des Debats_. +The _denouement_ was delayed by another _denouement_, which the public +found still more interesting. This was nothing less than the catastrophe +of the July Monarchy, in February, 1848. + +After the terrible June troubles, George Sand had been heartbroken, and +had turned once more to literature for consolation. She wrote _La Petite +Fadette_, so that the pastoral romances and the Revolution are closely +connected with each other. Beside the novels of this kind which we have +already mentioned, we must add _Jeanne_, which dates from 1844, and +the _Maitres Sonneurs_, written in 1853. This, then, completes the +incomparable series, which was the author's _chef-d'oeuvre_, and one of +the finest gems of French literature. This was George Sand's real style, +and the note in literature which was peculiarly her own. She was +well fitted for such writing, both by her natural disposition and by +circumstances. She had lived nearly all her life in the country, and it +was there only that she lived to the full. She made great efforts, but +Paris certainly made her homesick for her beloved Berry. She could +not help sighing when she thought of the ploughed fields, of the +walnut-trees, and of the oxen answering to the voice of the labourers. + +"It is no use," she wrote about the same time, "if you are born a +country person, you cannot get used to the noise of cities. It always +seems to me that our mud is beautiful mud, whilst that here makes me +feel sick. I very much prefer my keeper's wit to that of certain of the +visitors here. It seems to me that I am livelier when I have eaten some +of Nannette's wheat-cake than I am after my coffee in Paris. In short, +it appears to me that we are all perfect and charming, that no one could +be more agreeable than we are, and that Parisians are all clowns."(46) + + (46) _Correspondance:_ To. Ch. Duvernet, November 12, 1842. + +This was said in all sincerity. George Sand was quite indifferent about +all the great events of Parisian life, about social tittle-tattle and +Boulevard gossip. She knew the importance, though, of every episode of +country life, of a sudden fog or of the overflowing of the river. She +knew the place well, too, as she had visited every nook and corner in +all weathers and in every season. She knew all the people; there was +not a house she had not entered, either to visit the sick or to clear +up some piece of business for the inmates. Not only did she like the +country and the country people because she was accustomed to everything +there, but she had something of the nature of these people within her. +She had a certain turn of mind that was peasant-like, her slowness to +take things in, her dislike of speech when thinking, her thoughts taking +the form of "a series of reveries which gave her a sort of tranquil +ecstasy, whether awake or asleep."(47) It does not seem as though there +has ever been such an _ensemble_ of favourable conditions. + + (47) See in _Jeanne_ a very fine page on the peasant soul. + +She did not succeed in her first attempt. In several of her novels, ever +since _Valentine_, she had given us peasants among her characters. She +had tried labourers, mole-catchers, fortune-tellers and beggars, but all +these were episodic characters. _Jeanne_ is the first novel in which the +heroine is a peasant. Everything connected with Jeanne herself in the +novel is exquisite. We have all seen peasant women of this kind, women +with serious faces and clearly-cut features, with a dreamy look in their +eyes that makes us think of the maid of Lorraine. It is one of these +exceptional creatures that George Sand has depicted. She has made an +ecstatic being of her, who welcomes all that is supernatural, utterly +regardless of dates or epochs. To her all wonderful beings appeal, +the Virgin Mary and fairies, Druidesses, Joan of Arc and Napoleon. But +Jeanne, the Virgin of Ep Nell, the Velleda of the Jomatres stones, the +mystical sister of the Great Shepherdess, was very poorly supported. +This remark does not refer to her cousin Claudie, although this +individual's conduct was not blameless. Jeanne had gone into service at +Boussac, and she was surrounded by a group of middle-class people, among +whom was Sir Arthur----, a wealthy Englishman, who wanted to marry her. +This mixture of peasants and _bourgeois_ is not a happy one. Neither is +the mixture of _patois_ with a more Christian way of talking, or rather +with a written style. The author was experimenting and feeling her way. + +When she wrote _La Mare au Diable_ she had found it, for in this work +we have unity of tone, harmony of the characters with their setting, +of sentiment with the various adventures, and, above all, absolute +simplicity. + +In _Francois le Champi_ there is much that is graceful, and there is +real feeling mingled with a touch of sentimentality. Madeleine Blanchet +is rather old for Champi, whom she had brought up like her own child. In +the country, though, where difference of age is soon less apparent, the +disproportion does not seem as objectionable as it would in city life. +The novel is not a study of maternal affection in love, as it is not +Madeleine's feelings that are analyzed, but those of Francois. For a +long time he had been in love without knowing it, and he is only aware +of it when this love, instead of being a sort of agreeable dream and +melancholy pleasure, is transformed into suffering. + +The subject of _La Petite Fadette_ is another analysis of a love which +has been silent for a long time. It is difficult to say which is the +best of these delightful stories, but perhaps, on the whole, this last +one is generally preferred, on account of the curious and charming +figure of little Fadette herself. We can see the thin, slender girl, +suddenly appearing on the road, emerging from a thicket. She seems to be +part of the scenery, and can scarcely be distinguished from the objects +around her. The little wild country girl is like the spirit of the +fields, woods, rivers and precipices. She is a being very near to +Nature. Inquisitive and mischievous, she is bold in her speech, because +she is treated as a reprobate. She jeers, because she knows that she is +detested, and she scratches, because she suffers. The day comes when she +feels some of that affection which makes the atmosphere breathable for +human beings. She feels her heart beating faster in her bosom, thanks to +this affection, and from that minute a transformation takes place within +her. Landry, who has been observing her, is of opinion that she must +be something of a witch. Landry is very simple-minded. There is no +witchcraft here except that of love, and it was not difficult for that +to work the metamorphosis. It has worked many others in this world. + +The _Maitres Soneurs_ initiates us into forest life, so full of +mysterious visions. In opposition to the sedentary, stay-at-home life +of the inhabitant of plains, with his indolent mind, we have the +free-and-easy humour of the handsome and adventurous muleteer, Huriel, +with his love of the road and of all that is unexpected. He is a +_cheminau_ before the days of M. Richepin. + +I do not know any stories more finished than these. They certainly prove +that George Sand had the artistic sense, a quality which has frequently +been denied her. The characters in these stories are living and active, +and at the same time their psychology is not insisted upon, and they +do not stand out in such relief as to turn our attention from things, +which, as we know, are more important than people in the country. We are +surrounded on all sides by the country, and bathed, as it were, in +its atmosphere. And yet, in spite of all this, the country is not once +described. There is not one of those descriptions so dear to the heart +of those who are considered masters in the art of word-painting. We do +not describe those things with which we live. We are content to have +them ever present in our mind and to be in constant communion with +them. Style is, perhaps, the sovereign quality in these stories. Words +peculiar to the district are introduced just sufficiently to give an +accent. Somewhat old-fashioned expressions are employed, and these prove +the survival of by-gone days, which, in the country, are respected more +than elsewhere. Without any apparent effort, the narrative takes that +epic form so natural to those who, as _aedes_ of primitive epochs, or +story-tellers by country firesides, give their testimony about things of +the past. + +I am aware that George Sand has been accused of tracing portraits of +her peasants which were not like them. This is so absurd that I do not +consider it worth while to spend time in discussing it. It would be so +easy to show that in her types of peasants there is more variety, and +also more reality, than in Balzac's more realistic ones. Without being +untruthful portraits, it may be that they are somewhat flattered, and +that we have more honest, delicate and religious peasants in these +stories than in reality. This may be so, and George Sand warns us of +this herself. It was her intention to depict them thus. + +It was not absolute reality and the everyday details of the peasants' +habits and customs that she wanted to show us, but the poetry of the +country, the reflection of the great sights of Nature in the soul of +those who, thanks to their daily work, are the constant witnesses of +them. The peasant certainly has no exact notion of the poetry of Nature, +nor is he always conscious of it. He feels it, though, within his soul +in a vague way. At certain moments he has glimpses of it, perhaps, when +love causes him emotion, or perhaps when he is absent from the part of +the world, where he has always lived. His homesickness then gives him a +keener perception. This poetry is perhaps never clearly revealed to any +individual, not to the labourer who traces out his furrows tranquilly in +the early morning, nor to the shepherd who spends whole weeks alone in +the mountains, face to face with the stars. It dwells, though, in the +inner conscience of the race. The generations which come and go have it +within them, and they do not fall to express it. It is this poetry +which we find in certain customs and beliefs, in the various legends and +songs. When Le Champi returns to his native place, he finds the whole +country murmuring with the twitter of birds which he knew so well. + +"And all this reminded him of a very old song with which his mother +Zabelli used to sing him to sleep. It was a song with words such as +people used to employ in olden times." + +In George Sand's pastoral novels we have some of these old words. +They come to us from afar, and are like a supreme blossoming of old +traditions. + +It is all this which characterizes these books, and assigns to them +their place in our literature. We must not compare them with the rugged +studies of Balzac, nor with the insipid compositions of the bucolic +writer, nor even with Bernadin de Saint-Pierre's masterpiece, as there +are too many cocoanut trees in that. They prevent us seeing the French +landscapes. Very few people know the country in France and the humble +people who dwell there. Very few writers have loved the country well +enough to be able to depict its hidden charms. + +La Fontaine has done it in his fables and Perrault in his tales. George +Sand has her place, in this race of writers, among the French Homers. + + + + +IX + +THE 'BONNE DAME' OF NOHANT THE THEATRE--ALEXANDRE DUMAS FILS--LIFE AT +NOHANT + + +Novelists are given to speaking of the theatre somewhat disdainfully. +They say that there is too much convention, that an author is too much +the slave of material conditions, and is obliged to consider the taste +of the crowd, whilst a book appeals to the lover of literature, who can +read it by his own fireside, and to the society woman, who loses herself +in its pages. As soon, though, as one of their novels has had more +success than its predecessors, they do not hesitate to cut it up into +slices, according to the requirements of the publishing house, so that +it may go beyond the little circle of lovers of literature and society +women and reach the crowd--the largest crowd possible. + +George Sand never pretended to have this immense disdain for the theatre +which is professed by ultra-refined writers. She had always loved the +theatre, and she bore it no grudge, although her pieces had been hissed. +In those days plays that did not find favour were hissed. At present +they are not hissed, either because there are no more poor plays, +or because the public has seen so many bad ones that it has become +philosophical, and does not take the trouble to show its displeasure. +George Sand's first piece, _Cosima_, was a noted failure. About the year +1850, she turned to the theatre once more, hoping to find a new form of +expression for her energy and talent. _Francois le Champi_ was a great +success. In January, 1851, she wrote as follows, after the performance +of _Claudie:_ "A tearful success and a financial one. The house is full +every day; not a ticket given away, and not even a seat for Maurice. The +piece is played admirably; Bocage is magnificent. The public weeps and +blows its nose, as though it were in church. I am told that never in +the memory of man has there been such a first night. I was not present +myself." + +There may be a slight exaggeration in the words "never in the memory of +man," but the success was really great. _Claudie_ is still given, and I +remember seeing Paul Mounet interpret the part of Remy admirably at the +Odeon Theatre. As to the _Mariage de Victorine_, it figures every year +on the programme of the Conservatoire competitions. It is the typical +piece for would-be _ingenues._ + +_Francois le Champi, Claudie_ and the _Mariage de Victorine_ may be +considered as the series representing George Sand's dramatic writings. +These pieces were all her own, and, in her own opinion, that was their +principal merit. The dramatic author is frequently obliged to accept the +collaboration of persons who know nothing of literature. + +"Your characters say this," observes the manager; "it is all very well, +but, believe me, it will be better for him to say just the opposite. The +piece will run at least sixty nights longer." There was a manager at +the Gymnase Theatre in those days named Montigny. He was a very clever +manager, and knew exactly what the characters ought to say for making +the piece run. George Sand complained of his mania for changing every +play, and she added: "Every piece that I did not change, such, for +instance, as _Champi_, _Claudie_, _Victorine, Le Demon du foyer_ and _Le +Pressoir_, was a success, whilst all the others were either failures or +they had a very short run."(48) + + (48) _Correspondance:_ To Maurice Sand, February 24, 1855. + +It was in these pieces that George Sand carried out her own idea of what +was required for the theatre. Her idea was very simple. She gives it in +two or three words: "I like pieces that make me cry." She adds: "I like +drama better than comedy, and, like a woman, I must be infatuated by one +of the characters." This character is the congenial one. The public is +with him always and trembles for him, and the trembling is all the more +agreeable, because the public knows perfectly well that all will +end well for this character. It can even go as far as weeping the +traditional six tears, as Madame de Sevigne did for Andromaque. Tears at +the theatre are all the sweeter, because they are all in vain. When, in +a play, we have a congenial character who is there from the beginning to +the end, the play is a success. Let us take _Cyraino de Bergerac_, for +instance, which is one of the greatest successes in the history of the +theatre. + +Francois le Champi is eminently a congenial character, for he is a man +who always sets wrong things right. We are such believers in justice and +in the interference of Providence. When good, straightforward people are +persecuted by fate, we always expect to see a man appear upon the +scene who will be the champion of innocence, who will put evil-doers to +rights, and find the proper thing to do and say in every circumstance. + +Francois appears at the house of Madeleine Blanchet, who is a widow and +very sad and ill. He takes her part and defends her from the results of +La Severe's intrigues. He is hard on the latter, and he disdains another +woman, Mariette, but both La Severe and Mariette love him, so true is +it that women have a weakness for conquerors. Francois only cares for +Madeleine, though. On the stage, we like a man to be adored by all +women, as this seems to us a guarantee that he will only care for one of +them. + +"Champi" is a word peculiar to a certain district, meaning "natural +son." Dumas _fils_ wrote a play entitled _Le Fils naturel_. The hero +is also a superior man, who plays the part of Providence to the family +which has refused to recognize him. + +In _Claudie_, as in _Francois le Champi_, the rural setting is one +of the great charms of the play. The first act is one of the most +picturesque scenes on the stage. It takes place in a farmyard, the +day when the reapers have finished their task, which is just as +awe-inspiring as that of the sowers. A cart, drawn by oxen, enters the +yard, bringing a sheaf all adorned with ribbons and flowers. The oldest +of the labourers, Pere Remy, addresses a fine couplet to the sheaf of +corn which has cost so much labour, but which is destined to keep life +in them all. Claudie is one of those young peasant girls, whom we met +with in the novel entitled _Jeanne_. She had been unfortunate, but +Jeanne, although virtuous and pure herself, did not despise her, for in +the country there is great latitude in certain matters. This is just the +plain story, but on the stage everything becomes more dramatic and is +treated in a more detailed and solemn fashion. Claudie's misfortune +causes her to become a sort of personage apart, and it raises her very +high in her own esteem. + +"I am not afraid of anything that can be said about me," observes +Claudie, "for, on knowing the truth, kind-hearted, upright people will +acknowledge that I do not deserve to be insulted." Her old grandfather, +Remy, has completely absolved her. + +"You have repented and suffered enough, and you have worked and wept and +expiated enough, too, my poor Claudie," he says. Through all this she +has become worthy to make an excellent marriage. It is a case of +that special moral code by which, after free love, the fault must be +recompensed. + +Claudie is later on the Jeannine of the _Idees de Madame Aubray_, +the Denise of Alexandre Dumas. She is the unmarried mother, whose +misfortunes have not crushed her pride, who, after being outraged, has +a right now to a double share of respect. The first good young man is +called upon to accept her past life, for there is a law of solidarity in +the world. The human species is divided into two categories, the one +is always busy doing harm, and the other is naturally obliged to give +itself up to making good the harm done. + +_The Mariage de Victorine_ belongs to a well-known kind of literary +exercise, which was formerly very much in honour in the colleges. This +consists in taking a celebrated work at the place where the author has +left it and in imagining the "sequel." For instance, after the _Cid_, +there would be the marriage of Rodrigue and Chimene for us. As a +continuation of _L'Ecole des Femmes_, there is the result of the +marriage of the young Horace with the tiresome little Agnes. Corneille +gave a sequel to the _Menteur_ himself. Fabre d'Eglantine wrote the +sequel to _Le Misanthrope_, and called it _Le Philinte de Moliere_. +George Sand gives us here the sequel of Sedaine's _chef-d'oeuvre_ (that +is, a _chef-d'oeuvre_ for Sedaine), _Le Philosophe sans le savor._ + +In _Le Philosophe sans le savoir_ Monsieur Vanderke is a nobleman, who +has become a merchant in order to be in accordance with the ideas of +the times. He is a Frenchman, but he has taken a Dutch name out of +snobbishness. He has a clerk or a confidential servant named Antoine. +Victorine is Antoine's daughter. Vanderke's son is to fight a duel, and +from Victorine's emotion, whilst awaiting the result of this duel, it is +easy to see that she is in love with this young man. George Sand's +play turns on the question of what is to be done when the day comes for +Victorine to marry. An excellent husband is found for her, a certain +Fulgence, one of Monsieur Vanderke's clerks. He belongs to her own +class, and this is considered one of the indispensable conditions for +happiness in marriage. He loves her, so that everything seems to favour +Victorine. We are delighted, and she, too, seems to be in good spirits, +but, all the time that she is receiving congratulations and presents, we +begin to see that she has some great trouble. + +"Silk and pearls!" she exclaims; "oh, how heavy they are, but I am sure +that they are very fine. Lace, too, and silver; oh, such a quantity of +silver. How rich and fine and happy I shall be. And then Fulgence is so +fond of me." (She gets sadder and sadder.) "And father is so pleased. +How strange. I feel stifled." (She sits down in Antoine's chair.) "Is +this joy? . . . I feel . . . Ah, it hurts to be as happy as this. . . ." +She bursts into tears. This suppressed emotion to which she finally +gives vent, and this forced smile which ends in sobs are very effective +on the stage. The question is, how can Victorine's tears be dried? She +wants to marry young Vanderke, the son of her father's employer, instead +of the clerk. The only thing is, then, to arrange this marriage. + +"Is it a crime, then, for my brother to love Victorine?" asks Sophie, +"and is it mad of me to think that you will give your consent?" + +"My dear Sophie," replies Monsieur Vanderke, "there are no unequal +marriages in the sight of God. A servitor like Antoine is a friend, and +I have always brought you up to consider Victorine as your companion and +equal." + +This is the way the father of the family speaks. Personally, I consider +him rather imprudent. + +As this play is already a sequel to another one, I do not wish to +propose a sequel to _Le Mariage de Victorine_, but I cannot help +wondering what will happen when Vanderke's son finds himself the +son-in-law of an old servant-man, and also what will occur if he should +take his wife to call on some of his sister's friends. It seems to me +that he would then find out he had, made a mistake. Among the various +personages, only one appears to me quite worthy of interest, and that is +poor Fulgence, who was so straightforward and honest, and who is treated +so badly. + +But how deep Victorine was! Even if we admit that she did not +deliberately scheme and plot to get herself married by the son of the +family, she did instinctively all that had to be done for that. She was +very deep in an innocent way, and I have come to the conclusion that +such deepness is the most to be feared. + +I see quite well all that is lacking in these pieces, and that they are +not very great, but all the same they form a "theatre" apart. There is +unity in this theatrical work of George Sand. Whether it makes a hero of +the natural son, rehabilitates the seduced girl, or cries down the idea +of _mesalliances_, it is always the same fight in which it is +engaged; it is always fighting against the same enemies, prejudice and +narrow-mindedness. On the stage, we call every opinion contrary to our +own prejudice or narrow-mindedness. The theatre lives by fighting. +It matters little what the author is attacking. He may wage war with +principles, prejudices, giants, or windmills. Provided that there be a +battle, there will be a theatre for it. + +The fact that George Sand's theatre was the forerunner of the theatre +of Dumas _fils_ gives it additional value. We have already noticed the +analogy of situations and the kinship of theories contained in George +Sand's best plays and in the most noted ones by Dumas. I have no doubt +that Dumas owed a great deal to George Sand. We shall see that he paid +his debt as only he could have done. He knew the novelist when he was +quite young, as Dumas _pere_ and George Sand were on very friendly +terms. In her letter telling Sainte-Beuve not to take Musset to call +on her, as she thought him impertinent, she tells him to bring Dumas +_pere_, whom she evidently considered well bred. As she was a friend of +his father's, she was like a mother for the son. The first letter to him +in the _Correspondance_ is dated 1850. Dumas _fils_ was then twenty-six +years of age, and she calls him "my son." + +He had not written _La Dame aux Camelias_ then. It was performed for +the first time in February, 1852. He was merely the author of a few +second-rate novels and of a volume of execrable poetry. He had not found +out his capabilities at that time. There is no doubt that he was greatly +struck by George Sand's plays, imbued as they were with the ideas we +have just pointed out. + +All this is worthy of note, as it is essential for understanding the +work of Alexandre Dumas _fils_. He, too, was a natural son, and his +illegitimate birth had caused him much suffering. He was sent to +the Pension Goubaux, and for several years he endured the torture +he describes with such harshness at the beginning of _L'Affaire +Clemenceau_. He was exposed to all kinds of insults and blows. His first +contact with society taught him that this society was unjust, and that +it made the innocent suffer. The first experience he had was that of the +cruelty and cowardice of men. His mind was deeply impressed by this, +and he never lost the impression. He did not forgive, but made it his +mission to denounce the pharisaical attitude of society. His idea was to +treat men according to their merits, and to pay them back for the blows +he had received as a child.(49) It is easy, therefore, to understand how +the private grievances of Dumas _fils_ had prepared his mind to welcome +a theatre which took the part of the oppressed and waged war with social +prejudices. I am fully aware of the difference in temperament of the two +writers. Dumas _fils_, with his keen observation, was a pessimist. He +despised woman, and he advises us to kill her, under the pretext that +she has always remained "the strumpet of the land of No." although she +may be dressed in a Worth costume and wear a Reboux hat. + + (49) See our study of Dumas _fils_ in a volume entitled _Portraits + d'ecrivains._ + +As a dramatic author, Alexandre Dumas _fils_ had just what George +Sand lacked. He was vigorous, he had the art of brevity and brilliant +dialogue. It is thanks to all this that we have one of the masterpieces +of the French theatre, _Le Marquis de Villemer_, as a result of their +collaboration. + +We know from George Sand's letters the share that Dumas _fils_ had in +this work. He helped her to take the play from her novel, and to write +the scenario. After this, when once the play was written, he touched +up the dialogue, putting in more emphasis and brilliancy. It was Dumas, +therefore, who constructed the play. We all know how careless George +Sand was with her composition. She wrote with scarcely any plan in her +mind beforehand, and let herself be carried away by events. Dumas' +idea was that the _denouement_ is a mathematical total, and that before +writing the first word of a piece the author must know the end and have +decided the action. Theatrical managers complained of the sadness of +George Sand's plays. It is to Dumas that we owe the gaiety of the Duc +d'Aleria's _role_. It is one continual flow of amusing speeches, and it +saves the piece from the danger of falling into tearful drama. George +Sand had no wit, and Dumas _fils_ was full of it. It was he who put into +the dialogue those little sayings which are so easily recognized as his. + +"What do the doctors say?" is asked, and the reply comes: + +"What do the doctors say? Well, they say just what they know: they say +nothing." + +"My brother declares that the air of Paris is the only air he can +breathe," says another character. + +"Congratulate him for me on his lungs," remarks his interlocutor. + +"Her husband was a baron . . ." remarks some one. + +"Who is not a baron at present?" answers another person. + +A certain elderly governess is being discussed. + +"Did you not know her?" + +"Mademoiselle Artemise? No, monsieur." + +"Have you ever seen an albatross?" + +"No, never." + +"Not even stuffed? Oh, you should go to the Zoo. It is a curious +creature, with its great beak ending in a hook. . . . It eats all day +long. . . . Well, Mademoiselle Artemise, etc. . . ." + +The _Marquis de Villemer_ is in its place in the series of George Sand's +plays, and is quite in accordance with the general tone of her theatre. +It is like the _Mariage de Victorine_ over again. This time Victorine is +a reader, who gets herself married by a Marquis named Urbain. He is of a +gloomy disposition, so that she will not enjoy his society much, but she +will be a Marquise. Victorine and Caroline are both persons who know how +to make their way in the world. When they have a son, I should be very +much surprised if they allowed him to make a _mesalliance_. + +George Sand was one of the persons f or whom Dumas _fils_ had the +greatest admiration. As a proof of this, a voluminous correspondence +between them exists. It has not yet been published, but there is a +possibility that it may be some day. I remember, when talking with Dumas +_fils_, the terms in which he always spoke of "la mere Sand," as he +called her in a familiar but filial way. He compared her to his father, +and that was great praise indeed from him. He admired in her, too, as +he admired in his father, that wealth of creative power and immense +capacity for uninterrupted work. As a proof of this admiration, we have +only to turn to the preface to _Le Fils naturel_, in which Dumas is so +furious with the inhabitants of Palaiseau. George Sand had taken up her +abode at Palaiseau, and Dumas had been trying in vain to discover her +address in the district, when he came across one of the natives, who +replied as follows: "George Sand? Wait a minute. Isn't it a lady with +papers?" "So much for the glory," concludes Dumas, "of those of us with +papers." According to him, no woman had ever had more talent or as much +genius. "She thinks like Montaigne," he says, "she dreams like Ossian +and she writes like Jean-Jacques. Leonardo sketches her phrases for her, +and Mozart sings them. Madame de Sevigne kisses her hands, and Madame de +Stael kneels down to her as she passes." We can scarcely imagine Madame +de Stael in this humble posture, but one of the charms of Dumas was his +generous nature, which spared no praise and was lavish in enthusiasm. + + +At the epoch at which we have now arrived, George Sand had commenced +that period of tranquillity and calm in which she was to spend the rest +of her life. She had given up politics, for, as we have seen, she was +quickly undeceived with regard to them, and cured of her illusions. When +the _coup d'etat_ of December, 1851, took place, George Sand, who had +been Ledru-Rollin's collaborator and a friend of Barbes, soon made up +her mind what to do. As the daughter of Murat's _aide-de-camp_, she +naturally had a certain sympathy with the Bonapartists. Napoleon III was +a socialist, so that it was possible to come to an understanding. When +the prince had been a prisoner at Ham, he had sent the novelist his +study entitled _L'Extinction du pauperisme_. George Sand took advantage +of her former intercourse with him to beg for his indulgrence in favour +of some of her friends. This time she was in her proper _role_, the +_role_ of a woman. The "tyrant" granted the favours she asked, and +George Sand then came to the conclusion that he was a good sort of +tyrant. She was accused of treason, but she nevertheless continued +to speak of him with gratitude. She remained on good terms with the +Imperial family, particularly with Prince Jerome, as she appreciated +his intellect. She used to talk with him on literary and philosophical +questions. She sent him two tapestry ottomans one year, which she had +worked for him. Her son Maurice went for a cruise to America on Prince +Jerome's yacht, and he was the godfather of George Sand's little +grandchildren who were baptized as Protestants. + +George Sand deserves special mention for her science in the art of +growing old. It is not a science easy to master, and personally this is +one of my reasons for admiring her. She understood what a charm there is +in that time of life when the voice of the passions is no longer heard, +so that we can listen to the voice of things and examine the lesson +of life, that time when our reason makes us more indulgent, when the +sadness of earthly separations is softened by the thought that we shall +soon go ourselves to join those who have left us. We then begin to have +a foretaste of the calmness of that Great Sleep which is to console us +at the end of all our sufferings and grief. George Sand was fully aware +of the change that had taken place within her. She said, several +times over, that the age of impersonality had arrived for her. She was +delighted at having escaped from herself and at being free from egoism. +From henceforth she could give herself up to the sentiments which, in +pedantic and barbarous jargon, are called altruistic sentiments. By this +we mean motherly and grandmotherly affection, devotion to her family, +and enthusiasm for all that is beautiful and noble. She was delighted +when she was told of a generous deed, and charmed by a book in which she +discovered talent. It seemed to her as though she were in some way joint +author of it. + +"My heart goes out to all that I see dawning or growing . . ." she +wrote, at this time. "When we see or read anything beautiful, does it +not seem as though it belongs to us in a way, that it is neither +yours nor mine, but that it belongs to all who drink from it and are +strengthened by it?"(50) + + (50) _Correspondance:_ To Octave Feuillet, February 27, 1859. + +This is a noble sentiment, and less rare than is generally believed. +The public little thinks that it is one of the great joys of the +writer, when he has reached a certain age, to admire the works of his +fellow-writers. George Sand encouraged her young _confreres_, Dumas +_fils_, Feuillet and Flaubert, at the beginning of their career, and +helped them with her advice. + +We have plenty of information about her at this epoch. Her intimate +friends, inquisitive people and persons passing through Paris, +have described their visits to her over and over again. We have the +impressions noted down by the Goncourt brothers in their _Journal_. We +all know how much to trust to this diary. Whenever the Goncourts give +us an idea, an opinion, or a doctrine, it is as well to be wary in +accepting it. They were not very intelligent. I do not wish, in saying +this, to detract from them, but merely to define them. On the other +hand, what they saw, they saw thoroughly, and they noted the general +look, the attitude or gesture with great care. + +We give their impressions of George Sand. In March, 1862, they went to +call on her. She was then living in Paris, in the Rue Racine. They give +an account of this visit in their diary. + +"_March_ 30, 1862. + +"On the fourth floor, No. 2, Rue Racine. A little gentleman, very +much like every one else, opened the door to us. He smiled, and said: +'Messieurs de Goncourt!' and then, opening another door, showed us into +a very large room, a kind of studio. + +"There was a window at the far end, and the light was getting dim, for +it was about five o'clock. We could see a grey shadow against the pale +light. It was a woman, who did not attempt to rise, but who remained +impassive to our bow and our words. This seated shadow, looking so +drowsy, was Madame Sand, and the man who opened the door was the +engraver Manceau. Madame Sand is like an automatic machine. She talks in +a monotonous, mechanical voice which she neither raises nor lowers, +and which is never animated. In her whole attitude there is a sort of +gravity and placidness, something of the half-asleep air of a person +ruminating. She has very slow gestures, the gestures of a somnambulist. +With a mechanical movement she strikes a wax match, which gives a +flicker, and lights the cigar she is holding between her lips. + +"Madame Sand was extremely pleasant; she praised us a great deal, but +with a childishness of ideas, a platitude of expression and a mournful +good-naturedness that was as chilling as the bare wall of a room. +Manceau endeavoured to enliven the dialogue. We talked of her theatre +at Nohant, where they act for her and for her maid until four in the +morning. . . . We then talked of her prodigious faculty for work. She +told us that there was nothing meritorious in that, as she had always +worked so easily. She writes every night from one o'clock until four in +the morning, and she writes again for about two hours during the day. +Manceau explains everything, rather like an exhibitor of phenomena. 'It +is all the same to her,' he told us, 'if she is disturbed. Suppose you +turn on a tap at your house, and some one comes in the room. You simply +turn the tap off. It is like that with Madame Sand.'" + + +The Goncourt brothers were extremely clever in detracting from the +merits of the people about whom they spoke. They tell us that George +Sand had "a childishness in her ideas and a platitude of expression." +They were unkind without endeavouring to be so. They ran down people +instinctively. They were eminently literary men. They were also artistic +writers, and had even invented "artistic writing," but they had very +little in common with George Sand's attitude of mind. To her the theory +of art for the sake of art had always seemed a very hollow theory. She +wrote as well as she could, but she never dreamed of the profession of +writing having anything in common with an acrobatic display. + +In September, 1863, the Goncourt brothers again speak of George Sand, +telling us about her life at Nohant, or rather putting the account they +give into the mouth of Theophile Gautier. He had just returned from +Nohant, and he was asked if it was amusing at George Sand's. + +"Just as amusing as a monastery of the Moravian brotherhood," he +replies. "I arrived there in the evening, and the house is a long way +from the station. My trunk was put into a thicket, and on arriving +I entered by the farm in the midst of all the dogs, which gave me a +fright. . . ." + +As a matter of fact, Gautier's arrival at Nohant had been quite a +dramatic poem, half tragic and half comic. Absolute freedom was the rule +of Nohant. Every one there read, wrote, or went to sleep according +to his own will and pleasure. Gautier arrived in that frame of mind +peculiar to the Parisian of former days. He considered that he had given +a proof of heroism in venturing outside the walls of Paris. He therefore +expected a hearty welcome. He was very much annoyed at his reception, +and was about to start back again immediately, when George Sand was +informed of his arrival. She was extremely vexed at what had happened, +and exclaimed, "But had not any one told him how stupid I am!" + +The Goncourt brothers asked Gautier what life at Nohant was like. + +"Luncheon is at ten," he replied, "and when the finger was on the hour, +we all took our seats. Madame Sand arrived, looking like a somnambulist, +and remained half asleep all through the meal. After luncheon we went +into the garden and played at _cochonnet_. This roused her, and she +would then sit down and begin to talk." + +It would have been more exact to say that she listened, as she was not +a great talker herself. She had a horror of a certain kind of +conversation, of that futile, paradoxical and spasmodic kind which is +the speciality of "brilliant talkers." Sparkling conversation of this +sort disconcerted her and made her feel ill at ease. She did not +like the topic to be the literary profession either. This exasperated +Gautier, who would not admit of there being anything else in the world +but literature. + +"At three o'clock," he continued, "Madame Sand went away to write until +six. We then dined, but we had to dine quickly, so that Marie Caillot +would have time to dine. Marie Caillot is the servant, a sort of little +Fadette whom Madame Sand had discovered in the neighbourhood for playing +her pieces. This Marie Caillot used to come into the drawing-room in the +evening. After dinner Madame Sand would play patience, without uttering +a word, until midnight. . . . At midnight she began to write again until +four o'clock. . . . You know what happened once. Something monstrous. +She finished a novel at one o'clock in the morning, and began another +during the night. . . . To make copy is a function with Madame Sand." + +The marionette theatre was one of the Nohant amusements. One of the joys +of the family, and also one of the delights of _dilettanti_,(51) was the +painting of the scenery, the manufacturing of costumes, the working out +of scenarios, dressing dolls and making them talk. + + (51) "The individual named George Sand is very well. He is + enjoying the wonderful winter which reigns in Berry; he + gathers flowers, points out any interesting botanical + anomalies, sews dresses and mantles for his daughter-in-law, + and costumes for the marionettes, cuts out stage scenery, + dresses dolls and reads music. . .."--_Correspondance:_ To + Flaubert, January 17, 1869. + +In one of her novels, published in 1857, George Sand introduces to us +a certain Christian Waldo, who has a marionette show. He explains +the attraction of this kind of theatre and the fascination of these +_burattini_, which were living beings to him. Those among us who, some +fifteen years ago, were infatuated by a similar show, are not surprised +at Waldo's words. The marionettes to which we refer were to be seen in +the Passage Vivienne. Sacred plays in verse were given, and the managers +were Monsieur Richepin and Monsieur Bouchor. For such plays we preferred +actors made of wood to actors of flesh and blood, as there is always a +certain desecration otherwise in acting such pieces. + +George Sand rarely left Nohant now except for her little flat in Paris. +In the spring of 1855, she went to Rome for a short time, but did not +enjoy this visit much. She sums up her impressions in the following +words: "Rome is a regular see-saw." The ruins did not interest her much. + +"After spending several days in visiting urns, tombs, crypts and +columns, one feels the need of getting out of all this a little and of +seeing Nature." + +Nature, however, did not compensate her sufficiently for her +disappointment in the ruins. + +"The Roman Campagna, which has been so much vaunted, is certainly +singularly immense, but it is so bare, flat and deserted, so monotonous +and sad, miles and miles of meadow-land in every direction, that the +little brain one has left, after seeing the city, is almost overpowered +by it all." + +This journey inspired her with one of the weakest of her novels, _La +Daniella_. It is the diary of a painter named Jean Valreg, who married +a laundry-girl. In 1861, after an illness, she went to Tamaris, in the +south of France. This name is the title of one of her novels. She does +not care for this place either. She considers that there is too much +wind, too much dust, and that there are too many olive-trees in the +south of France. + +I am convinced that at an earlier time in her life she would, have been +won over by the fascination of Rome. She had comprehended the charm of +Venice so admirably. At an earlier date, too, she would not have +been indifferent to the beauties of Provence, as she had delighted in +meridional Nature when in Majorca. + +The years were over, though, for her to enjoy the variety of outside +shows with all their phantasmagoria. A time comes in life, and it had +already come for her, when we discover that Nature, which has seemed so +varied, is the same everywhere, that we have quite near us all that we +have been so far away to seek, a little of this earth, a little water +and a little sky. We find, too, that we have neither the time nor the +inclination to go away in search of all this when our hours are counted +and we feel the end near. The essential thing then is to reserve for +ourselves a little space for our meditations, between the agitations of +life and that moment which alone decides everything for us. + + + + +X + +THE GENIUS OF THE WRITER + +CORRESPONDENCE WITH FLAUBERT--LAST NOVELS + + +With that maternal instinct which was so strong within her, George Sand +could not do without having a child to scold, direct and take to task. +The one to whom she was to devote the last ten years of her life, who +needed her beneficent affection more than any of those she had adopted, +was a kind of giant with hair turned back from his forehead and a thick +moustache like a Norman of the heroic ages. He was just such a man as +we can imagine the pirates in Duc Rollo's boats. This descendant of the +Vikings had been born in times of peace, and his sole occupation was to +endeavour to form harmonious phrases by avoiding assonances. + +I do not think there have been two individuals more different from each +other than George Sand and Gustave Flaubert. He was an artist, and she +in many respects was _bourgeoise_. He saw all things at their worst; +she saw them better than they were. Flaubert wrote to her in surprise +as follows: "In spite of your large sphinx eyes, you have seen the world +through gold colour." + +She loved the lower classes; he thought them detestable, and qualified +universal suffrage as "a disgrace to the human mind." She preached +concord, the union of classes, whilst he gave his opinion as follows: + +"I believe that the poor hate the rich, and that the rich are afraid of +the poor. It will be like this eternally." + +It was always thus. On every subject the opinion of the one was sure to +be the direct opposite of the opinion of the other. This was just what +had attracted them. + +"I should not be interested in myself," George Sand said, "if I had the +honour of meeting myself." She was interested in Flaubert, as she had +divined that he was her antithesis. + +"The man who is Just passing," says Fantasio, "is charming. There are +all sorts of ideas in his mind which would be quite new to me." + +George Sand wanted to know something of these ideas which were new to +her. She admired Flaubert on account of all sorts of qualities which +she did not possess herself. She liked him, too, as she felt that he was +unhappy. + +She went to see him during the summer of 1866. They visited the historic +streets and old parts of Rouen together. She was both charmed and +surprised. She could not believe her eyes, as she had never imagined +that all that existed, and so near Paris, too. She stayed in that house +at Croisset in which Flaubert's whole life was spent. It was a house +with wide windows and a view over the Seine. The hoarse, monotonous +sound of the chain towing the heavy boats along could be heard +distinctly within the rooms. Flaubert lived there with his mother and +niece. To George Sand everything there seemed to breathe of tranquillity +and comfort, but at the same time she brought away with her an +impression of sadness. She attributed this to the vicinity of the Seine, +coming and going as it does according to the bar. + +"The willows of the islets are always being covered and uncovered," she +writes; "it all looks very cold and sad."(52) + + (52) _Correspondance:_ To Maurice Sand, August 10, 1866. + +She was not really duped, though, by her own explanation. She knew +perfectly well that what makes a house sad or gay, warm or icy-cold is +not the outlook on to the surrounding country, but the soul of those who +inhabit it and who have fashioned it in their own image. She had just +been staying in the house of the misanthropist. + +When Moliere put the misanthropist on the stage with his +wretched-looking face, he gave him some of the features which remind +us so strongly of Flaubert. The most ordinary and everyday events were +always enough to put Alceste into a rage. It was just the same with +Flaubert. Everyday things which we are philosophical enough to accept +took his breath away. He was angry, and he wanted to be angry. He was +irritated with every one and with everything, and he cultivated this +irritation. He kept himself in a continual state of exasperation, +and this was his normal state. In his letters he described himself as +"worried with life," "disgusted with everything," "always agitated and +always indignant." He spells _hhhindignant_ with several h's. He signs +his letters, "The Reverend Father Cruchard of the Barnabite Order, +director of the Ladies of Disenchantment." Added to all this, although +there may have been a certain amount of pose in his attitude, he was +sincere. He "roared" in his own study, when he was quite alone and +there was no one to be affected by his roaring. He was organized in a +remarkable way for suffering. He was both romantic and realistic, a keen +observer and an imaginative man. He borrowed some of the most pitiful +traits from reality, and recomposed them into a regular nightmare. We +agree with Flaubert that injustice and nonsense do exist in life. But he +gives us Nonsense itself, the seven-headed and ten-horned beast of the +Apocalypse. He sees this beast everywhere, it haunts him and blocks up +every avenue for him, so that he cannot see the sublime beauties of the +creation nor the splendour of human intelligence. + +In reply to all his wild harangues, George Sand gives wise answers, +smiling as she gives them, and using her common sense with which to +protect herself against the trickery of words. What has he to complain +of, this grown-up child who is too naive and who expects too much? By +what extraordinary misfortune has he such an exceptionally unhappy lot? +He is fairly well off and he has great talent. How many people would +envy him! He complains of life, such as it is for every one, and of the +present conditions of life, which had never been better for any one at +any epoch. What is the use of getting irritated with life, since we do +not wish to die? Humanity seemed despicable to him, and he hated it. +Was he not a part of this humanity himself? Instead of cursing our +fellow-men for a whole crowd of imperfections inherent to their nature, +would it not be more just to pity them for such imperfections? As to +stupidity and nonsense, if he objected to them, it would be better to +pay no attention to them, instead of watching out for them all the time. +Beside all this, is there not more reason than we imagine for every one +of us to be indulgent towards the stupidity of other people? + +"That poor stupidity of which we hear so much," exclaimed George Sand. +"I do not dislike it, as I look on it with maternal eyes." The human +race is absurd, undoubtedly, but we must own that we contribute +ourselves to this absurdity. + +There is something morbid in Flaubert's case, and with equal clearness +of vision George Sand points out to him the cause of it and the remedy. +The morbidness is caused in the first place by his loneliness, and by +the fact that he has severed all bonds which united him to the rest +of the universe. Woe be to those who are alone! The remedy is the next +consideration. Is there not, somewhere in the world, a woman whom he +could love and who would make him suffer? Is there not a child somewhere +whose father he could imagine himself to be, and to whom he could devote +himself? Such is the law of life. Existence is intolerable to us as long +as we only ask for our own personal satisfaction, but it becomes dear to +us from the day when we make a present of it to another human being. + +There was the same antagonism in their literary opinions. Flaubert +was an artist, the theorist of the doctrine of art for art, such +as Theophile Gautier, the Goncourt brothers and the Parnassians +comprehended it, at about the same epoch. It is singularly interesting +to hear him formulate each article of this doctrine, and to hear George +Sand's fervent protestations in reply. Flaubert considers that an author +should not put himself into his work, that he should not write his books +with his heart, and George Sand answers: + +"I do not understand at all, then. Oh no, it is all incomprehensible to +me." + +With what was an author to write his books, if not with his own +sentiments and emotions? Was he to write them with the hearts of other +people? Flaubert maintained that an author should only write for about +twenty persons, unless he simply wrote for himself, "like a _bourgeois_ +turning his serviette-rings round in his attic." George Sand was of +opinion that an author should write "for all those who can profit by +good reading." Flaubert confesses that if attention be paid to the +old distinction between matter and form, he should give the greater +importance to form, in which he had a religious belief. He considered +that in the correctness of the putting together, in the rarity of the +elements, the polish of the surface and the perfect harmony of the whole +there was an intrinsic virtue, a kind of divine force. In conclusion, he +adds: + +"I endeavour to think well always, _in order to_ write well, but I do +not conceal the fact that my object is to write well." + +This, then, was the secret of that working up of the style, until it +became a mania with him and developed into a torture. We all know of +the days of anguish which Flaubert spent in searching for a word that +escaped him, and the weeks that he devoted to rounding off one of his +periods. He would never write these down until he had said them to +himself, or, as he put it himself, until "they had gone through his +jaw." He would not allow two complements in the same phrase, and we are +told that he was ill after reading in one of his own books the following +words: "Une couronne _de_ fleurs _d_'oranger." + +"You do not know what it is," he wrote, "to spend a whole day holding +one's head and squeezing one's brains to find a word. Ideas flow with +you freely and continually, like a stream. With me they come like +trickling water, and it is only by a huge work of art that I can get +a waterfall. Ah, I have had some experience of the terrible torture of +style!" No, George Sand certainly had no experience of this kind, and +she could not even conceive of such torture. It amazed her to hear of +such painful labour, for, personally, she let the wind play on her "old +harp" just as it listed. + +Briefly, she considered that her friend was the victim of a hopeless +error. He took literature for the essential thing, but there was +something before all literature, and that something was life. "The Holy +of Holies, as you call literature, is only secondary to me in life. I +have always loved some one better than it, and my family better than +that some one." + +This, then, was the keynote of the argument. George Sand considered that +life is not only a pretext for literature, but that literature should +always refer to life and should be regulated by life, as by a model +which takes the precedence of it and goes far beyond it. This, too, is +our opinion. + +The state of mind which can be read between the lines in George Sand's +letters to Flaubert is serenity, and this is also the characteristic of +her work during the last period of her life. Her "last style" is that +of _Jean de la Rocke_, published in 1860. A young nobleman, Jean de la +Roche, loses his heart to the exquisite Love Butler. She returns his +affection, but the jealousy of a young brother obliges them to separate. +In order to be near the woman he loves, Jean de la Roche disguises +himself as a guide, and accompanies the whole family in an excursion +through the Auvergne mountains. A young nobleman as a guide is by +no means an ordinary thing, but in love affairs such disguises are +admitted. Lovers in the writings of Marivaux took the parts of servants, +and in former days no one was surprised to meet with princes in disguise +on the high-roads. + +George Sand's masterpiece of this kind is undoubtedly _Le Marquis +de Villemer_, published in 1861. A provincial _chateau_, an old +aristocratic woman, sceptical and indulgent, two brothers capable of +being rivals without ceasing to be friends, a young girl of noble birth, +but poor, calumny being spread abroad, but quickly repudiated, some +wonderful pages of description, and some elegant, sinuous conversations. +All this has a certain charm. The poor girl marries the Marquis in +the end. This, too, is a return to former days, to the days when kings +married shepherdesses. The pleasure that we have in reading such novels +is very much like that which we used to feel on hearing fairy-stories. + +"If some one were to tell me the story of _Peau d'Ane_, I should be +delighted," confessed La Fontaine, and surely it would be bad form to +be more difficult and over-nice than he was. Big children as we are, +we need stories which give food to our imagination, after being +disappointed by the realities of life. This is perhaps the very object +of the novel. Romance is not necessarily an exaggerated aspiration +towards imaginary things. It is something else too. It is the revolt of +the soul which is oppressed by the yoke of Nature. It is the expression +of that tendency within us towards a freedom which is impossible, but +of which we nevertheless dream. An iron law presides over our destiny. +Around us and within us, the series of causes and effects continues +to unwind its hard chain. Every single one of our deeds bears its +consequence, and this goes on to eternity. Every fault of ours will +bring its chastisement. Every weakness will have to be made good. There +is not a moment of oblivion, not an instant when we may cease to be on +our guard. Romantic illusion is, then, just an attempt to escape, at +least in imagination, from the tyranny of universal order. + +It is impossible, in this volume, to consider all George Sand's works. +Some of her others are charming, but the whole series would perhaps +appear somewhat monotonous. There is, however, one novel of this epoch +to which we must call attention, as it is like a burst of thunder during +calm weather. It also reveals an aspect of George Sand's ideas which +should not be passed over lightly. This book was perhaps the only +one George Sand wrote under the influence of anger. We refer to +_Mademoiselle La Quintinie_. Octave Feuillet had just published his +_Histoire de Sibylle_, and this book made George Sand furiously angry. +We are at a loss to comprehend her indignation. Feuillet's novel is very +graceful and quite inoffensive. Sibylle is a fanciful young person, who +from her earliest childhood dreams of impossible things. She wants her +grandfather to get a star for her, and another time she wants to ride on +the swan's back as it swims in the pool. When she is being prepared for +her first communion, she has doubts about the truth of the Christian +religion, but one night, during a storm, the priest of the place springs +into a boat and goes to the rescue of some sailors in peril. All the +difficulties of theological interpretations are at once dispelled for +her. A young man falls in love with her, but on discovering that he is +not a believer she endeavours to convert him, and goes moonlight walks +with him. Moonlight is sometimes dangerous for young girls, and, after +one of these sentimental and theological strolls, she has a mysterious +ailment. . . . + +In order to understand George Sand's anger on reading this novel, which +was both religious and social, and at the same time very harmless, +we must know what her state of mind was on the essential question of +religion. + +In the first place, George Sand was not hostile to religious ideas. +She had a religion. There is a George Sand religion. There are not many +dogmas, and the creed is simple. George Sand believed firmly in the +existence of God. Without the notion of God, nothing can be explained +and no problem solved. This God is not merely the "first cause." It is a +personal and conscious God, whose essential, if not sole, function is to +forgive--every one. + +"The dogma of hell," she writes, "is a monstrosity, an imposture, a +barbarism. . . . It is impious to doubt God's infinite pity, and to +think that He does not always pardon, even the most guilty of men." This +is certainly the most complete application that has ever been made of +the law of pardon. This God is not the God of Jacob, nor of Pascal, +nor even of Voltaire. He is not an unknown God either. He is the God of +Beranger and of all good people. George Sand believed also, very +firmly, in the immortality of the soul. On losing any of her family, the +certainty of going to them some day was her great consolation. + +"I see future and eternal life before me as a certainty," she said; "it +is like a light, and, thanks to its brilliancy, other things cannot be +seen; but the light is there, and that is all I need." Her belief +was, then, in the existence of God, the goodness of Providence and the +immortality of the soul. George Sand was an adept in natural religion. + +She did not accept the idea of any revealed religion, and there was one +of these revealed religions that she execrated. This was the Catholic +religion. Her correspondence on this subject during the period of the +Second Empire is most significant. She was a personal enemy of the +Church, and spoke of the Jesuits as a subscriber to the _Siecle_ might +do to-day. She feared the dagger of the Jesuits for Napoleon III, but at +the same time she hoped there might be a frustrated attempt at murder, +so that his eyes might be opened. The great danger of modern times, +according to her, was the development of the clerical spirit. She was +not an advocate for liberty of education either. "The priestly spirit +has been encouraged," she wrote.(53) "France is overrun with convents, +and wretched friars have been allowed to take possession of education." +She considered that wherever the Church was mistress, it left its marks, +which were unmistakable: stupidity and brutishness. She gave Brittany as +an example. + + (53) _Correspondance:_ To Barbes, May 12, 1867. + +"There is nothing left," she writes, "when the priest and Catholic +vandalism have passed by, destroying the monuments of the old world and +leaving their lice for the future."(54) + + (54) _Ibid.:_ To Flaubert, September 21, 1860. + +It is no use attempting to ignore the fact. This is anti-clericalism +in all its violence. Is it not curious that this passion, when once it +takes possession of even the most distinguished minds, causes them to +lose all sentiment of measure, of propriety and of dignity. + +_Mademoiselle La Quintinie_ is the result of a fit of anti-clerical +mania. George Sand gives, in this novel, the counterpart of _Sibylle_. +Emile Lemontier, a free-thinker, is in love with the daughter of General +La Quintinie. Emile is troubled in his mind because, as his _fiancee_ +is a Catholic, he knows she will have to have a confessor. The idea +is intolerable to him, as, like Monsieur Homais, he considers that +a husband could not endure the idea of his wife having private +conversations with one of those individuals. Mademoiselle La Quintinie's +confessor is a certain Moreali, a near relative of Eugene Sue's Rodin. +The whole novel turns on the struggle between Emile and Moreali, which +ends in the final discomfiture of Moreali. Mademoiselle La Quintinie is +to marry Emile, who will teach her to be a free-thinker. Emile is +proud of his work of drawing a soul away from Christian communion. He +considers that the light of reason is always sufficient for illuminating +the path in a woman's life. He thinks that her natural rectitude will +prove sufficient for making a good woman of her. I do not wish to call +this into question, but even if she should not err, is it not possible +that she may suffer? This free-thinker imagines that it is possible to +tear belief from a heart without rending it and causing an incurable +wound. Oh, what a poor psychologist! He forgets that beliefs the +summing up and the continuation of the belief of a whole series of +generations. He does not hear the distant murmur of the prayers of +by-gone years. It is in vain to endeavour to stifle those prayers; they +will be heard for ever within the crushed and desolate soul. + +_Mademoiselle La Quintinie_ is a work of hatred. George Sand was not +successful with it. She had no vocation for writing such books, and +she was not accustomed to writing them. It is a novel full of tiresome +dissertations, and it is extremely dull. + +From that date, though, George Sand experienced the joy of a certain +popularity. At theatrical performances and at funerals the students +manifested in her honour. It was the same for Sainte-Beuve, but this +does not seem to have made either of them any greater. + +We will pass over all this, and turn to something that we can admire. +The robust and triumphant old age of George Sand was admirable. Nearly +every year she went to some fresh place in France to find a setting for +her stories. She had to earn her living to the very last, and was doomed +to write novels for ever. "I shall be turning my wheel when I die," she +used to say, and, after all, this is the proper ending for a literary +worker. + +In 1870 and 1871, she suffered all the anguish of the "Terrible Year." +When once the nightmare was over, she set to work once more like a true +daughter of courageous France, unwilling to give in. She was as hardy +as iron as she grew old. "I walk to the river," she wrote in 1872, "and +bathe in the cold water, warm as I am. . . . I am of the same nature as +the grass in the field. Sunshine and water are all I need." + +For a woman of sixty-eight to be able to bathe every day in the cold +water of the Indre is a great deal. In May, 1876, she was not well, and +had to stay in bed. She was ill for ten days, and died without suffering +much. She is buried at Nohant, according to her wishes, so that her last +sleep is in her beloved Berry. + + +In conclusion, we would say just a few words about George Sand's genius, +and the place that she takes in the history of the French novel. + +On comparing George Sand with the novelists of her time, what strikes +us most is how different she was from them. She is neither like Balzac, +Stendhal, nor Merimee, nor any story-teller of our thoughtful, clever +and refined epoch. She reminds us more of the "old novelists," of those +who told stories of chivalrous deeds and of old legends, or, to go still +further back, she reminds us of the _aedes_ of old Greece. In the early +days of a nation there were always men who went to the crowd and charmed +them with the stories they told in a wordy way. They scarcely knew +whether they invented these stories as they told them, or whether they +had heard them somewhere. They could not tell either which was fiction +and which reality, for all reality seemed wonderful to them. All the +people about whom they told were great, all objects were good and +everything beautiful. They mingled nursery-tales with myths that were +quite sensible, and the history of nations with children's stories. They +were called poets. + +George Sand did not employ a versified form for her stories, but she +belonged to the family of these poets. She was a poet herself who had +lost her way and come into our century of prose, and she continued her +singing. + +Like these early poets, she was primitive. Like them, she obeyed a god +within her. All her talent was instinctive, and she had all the ease +of instinctive talent. When Flaubert complained to George Sand of the +"tortures" that style cost him, she endeavoured to admire him. + +"When I see the difficulty that my old friend has in writing his novel, +I am discouraged about my own case, and I say to myself that I am +writing poor sort of literature." + +This was merely her charity, for she never understood that there could +be any effort in writing. Consequently she could not understand that it +should cause suffering. For her, writing was a pleasure, as it was the +satisfaction of a need. As her works were no effort to her, they left no +trace in her memory. She had not intended to write them, and, when once +written, she forgot them. + +"_Consuelo and La Comtesse de Rudolstadt_, what are these books?" she +asks. "Did I write them? I do not remember a single word of them." + +Her novels were like fruit, which, when ripe, fell away from her. George +Sand always returned to the celebration of certain great themes which +are the eternal subjects of all poetry, subjects such as love and +nature, and sentiments like enthusiasm and pity. The very language +completes the illusion. The choice of words was often far from perfect, +as George Sand's vocabulary was often uncertain, and her expression +lacked precision and relief. But she had the gift of imagery, and her +images were always delightfully fresh. She never lost that rare faculty +which she possessed of being surprised at things, so that she looked at +everything with youthful eyes. There is a certain movement which carries +the reader on, and a rhythm that is soothing. She develops the French +phrase slowly perhaps, but without any confusion. Her language is like +those rivers which flow along full and limpid, between flowery banks +and oases of verdure, rivers by the side of which the traveller loves to +linger and to lose himself in dreams. + +The share which belongs to George Sand in the history of the French +novel is that of having impregnated the novel with the poetry in her +own soul. She gave to the novel a breadth and a range which it had never +hitherto had. She celebrated the hymn of Nature, of love and of goodness +in it. She revealed to us the country and the peasants of France. She +gave satisfaction to the romantic tendency which is in every one of us, +to a more or less degree. + +All this is more even than is needed to ensure her fame. She denied ever +having written for posterity, and she predicted that in fifty years she +would be forgotten. It may be that there has been for her, as there is +for every illustrious author who dies, a time of test and a period of +neglect. The triumph of naturalism, by influencing taste for a time, may +have stopped our reading George Sand. At present we are just as tired +of documentary literature as we are disgusted with brutal literature. We +are gradually coming back to a better comprehension of what there is of +"truth" in George Sand's conception of the novel. This may be summed up +in a few words--to charm, to touch and to console. Those of us who know +something of life may perhaps wonder whether to console may not be the +final aim of literature. George Sand's literary ideal may be read in the +following words, which she wrote to Flaubert: + +"You make the people who read your books still sadder than they were +before. I want to make them less unhappy." She tried to do this, and she +often succeeded in her attempt. What greater praise can we give to her +than that? And how can we help adding a little gratitude and affection +to our admiration for the woman who was the good fairy of the +contemporary novel? + + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of George Sand, Some Aspects of Her Life +and Writings, by Rene Doumic + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GEORGE SAND, SOME ASPECTS OF *** + +***** This file should be named 138.txt or 138.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/138/ + +Produced by Charles E. Keller and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Longer notes have a +mark at the end indicating the end of note in {brackets} _Italics_ +are underlined. Comments by the editor are in {brackets} This etext was +prepared with the use of Calera WordScan Plus 2.0 by Charles E. Keller. + + + + + + +George Sand +Some Aspects of Her Life +and Writings + +by Rene Doumic +Translated by Alys Hallard + + + + + First published in 1910. This volume is dedicated to Madame +L. Landouzy with gratitude and affection + + This book is not intended as a study of George Sand. It is +merely a series of chapters touching on various aspects of her life +and writings. My work will not be lost if the perusal of these pages +should inspire one of the historians of our literature with the idea +of devoting to the great novelist, to her genius and her influence, +a work of this kind. + + +CONTENTS + + I AURORE DUPIN + II BARONNE DUDEVANT + III A FEMINIST OF 1832 + IV THE ROMANTIC ESCAPADE + V THE FRIEND OF MICHEL (DE BOURGES) + VI A CASE OF MATERNAL AFFECTION IN LOVE + VII THE HUMANITARIAN DREAM +VIII 1848 + IX THE `BONNE DAME' OF NOHANT + X THE GENIUS OF THE WRITER + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + +GEORGE SAND (From a photogravure by N. Desmardyl, after a Painting + by A. Charpentier) +GEORGE SAND (From an engraving by L. Calamatia) +JULES SANDEAU (From an etching by M. Desboutins) +ALFRED DE MUSSET (From a lithograph) +FACSIMILE OF AN AUTOGRAPH LETTER OF GEORGE SAND (Written from + Venice to Hipp. Chatiron) +GEORGE SAND (From a lithograph) +F. CHOPIN (From a photograph) +PIERRE LEROUX (From a lithograph by A. Collette) +GEORGE SAND (From a lithograph) + + + +GEORGE SAND + +I + +AURORE DUPIN + +PSYCHOLOGY OF A DAUGHTER OF ROUSSEAU + + +In the whole of French literary history, there is, perhaps, no subject +of such inexhaustible and modern interest as that of George Sand. +Of what use is literary history? It is not only a kind of museum, +in which a few masterpieces are preserved for the pleasure of beholders. +It is this certainly, but it is still more than this. Fine books are, +before anything else, living works. They not only have lived, but they +continue to live. They live within us, underneath those ideas which +form our conscience and those sentiments which inspire our actions. +There is nothing of greater importance for any society than to make +an inventory of the ideas and the sentiments which are composing its +moral atmosphere every instant that it exists. For every individual +this work is the very condition of his dignity. The question is, +should we have these ideas and these sentiments, if, in the times +before us, there had not been some exceptional individuals who +seized them, as it were, in the air and made them viable and durable? +These exceptional individuals were capable of thinking more vigorously, +of feeling more deeply, and of expressing themselves more forcibly +than we are. They bequeathed these ideas and sentiments to us. +Literary history is, then, above and beyond all things, the perpetual +examination of the conscience of humanity. + +There is no need for me to repeat what every one knows, the fact +that our epoch is extremely complex, agitated and disturbed. +In the midst of this labyrinth in which we are feeling our way +with such difficulty, who does not look back regretfully to the days +when life was more simple, when it was possible to walk towards +a goal, mysterious and unknown though it might be, by straight paths +and royal routes? + +George Sand wrote for nearly half a century. For fifty times three +hundred and sixty-five days, she never let a day pass by without +covering more pages than other writers in a month. Her first books +shocked people, her early opinions were greeted with storms. +From that time forth she rushed head-long into everything new, +she welcomed every chimera and passed it on to us with more force and +passion in it. Vibrating with every breath, electrified by every storm, +she looked up at every cloud behind which she fancied she saw a +star shining. The work of another novelist has been called a repertory +of human documents. But what a repertory of ideas her work was! +She has said what she had to say on nearly every subject; on love, +the family, social institutions and on the various forms of government. +And with all this she was a woman. Her case is almost unique +in the history of letters. It is intensely interesting to study +the influence of this woman of genius on the evolution of modern thought. + +I shall endeavour to approach my subject conscientiously and with +all due respect. I shall study biography where it is indispensable +for the complete understanding of works. I shall give a sketch of +the original individuals I meet on my path, portraying these only at +their point of contact with the life of our authoress, and it seems +to me that a gallery in which we see Sandeau, Sainte-Beuve, Musset, +Michel (of Bourges), Liszt, Chopin, Lamennais, Pierre Leroux, +Dumas _fils_, Flaubert and many, many others is an incomparable +portrait gallery. I shall not attack persons, but I shall discuss +ideas and, when necessary, dispute them energetically. We shall, +I hope, during our voyage, see many perspectives open out before us. + +I have, of course, made use of all the works devoted to George Sand +which were of any value for my study, and among others of the two +volumes published, under the name of Wladimir Karenine,[1] by a +woman belonging to Russian aristocratic society. For the period +before 1840, this is the most complete work that has been written. +M. Samuel Rocheblave, a clever University professor and the man +who knows more than any one about the life and works of George Sand, +has been my guide and has helped me greatly with his wise advice. +Private collections of documents have also been placed at my service +most generously. I am therefore able to supply some hitherto +unpublished writings. George Sand published, in all, about a hundred +volumes of novels and stories, four volumes of autobiography, +and six of correspondence. In spite of all this we are still asked +for fresh documents. + + + +[1] WLADIMIR KARENINE: _George Sand, Sa vie et ses aeuvres._ +2 Vols. Ollendorf. + + +It is interesting, as a preliminary study, to note the natural gifts, +and the first impressions of Aurore Dupin as a child and young girl, +and to see how these predetermined the woman and the writer known +to us as George Sand. + + +Lucile-Amandine-Aurore Dupin, legitimate daughter of Maurice Dupin +and of Sophie-Victoire Delaborde, was born in Paris, at 15 Rue Meslay, +in the neighbourhood of the Temple, on the 1st of July, 1804. I would +call attention at once to the special phenomenon which explains +the problem of her destiny: I mean by this her heredity, or rather +the radical and violent contrast of her maternal and paternal heredity. + +By her father she was an aristocrat and related to the reigning houses. + +Her ancestor was the King of Poland, Augustus II, the lover of the +beautiful Countess Aurora von Koenigsmarck. George Sand's grandfather +was Maurice de Saxe. He may have been an adventurer and a _condottiere_, +but France owes to him Fontenoy, that brilliant page of her history. +All this takes us back to the eighteenth century with its brilliant, +gallant, frivolous, artistic and profligate episodes. Maurice de Saxe +adored the theatre, either for itself or for the sake of the women +connected with it. On his campaign, he took with him a theatrical +company which gave a representation the evening before a battle. +In this company was a young artiste named Mlle. de Verrieres whose +father was a certain M. Rinteau. Maurice de Saxe admired the young +actress and a daughter was born of this _liaison_, who was later +on recognized by her father and named Marie-Aurore de Saxe. +This was George Sand's grandmother. At the age of fifteen the young +girl married Comte de Horn, a bastard son of Louis XV. This husband +was obliging enough to his wife, who was only his wife in name, +to die as soon as possible. She then returned to her mother "the +Opera lady." An elderly nobleman, Dupin de Francueil, who had been +the lover of the other Mlle. Verrieres, now fell in love with her and +married her. Their son, Maurice Dupin, was the father of our novelist. +The astonishing part of this series of adventures is that Marie-Aurore +should have been the eminently respectable woman that she was. +On her mother's side, though, Aurore Dupin belonged to the people. +She was the daughter of Sophie-Victoire Delaborde milliner, +the grandchild of a certain bird-seller on the Quai des Oiseaux, +who used to keep a public-house, and she was the great-granddaughter +of Mere Cloquart. + +This double heredity was personified in the two women who shared +George Sand's childish affection. We must therefore study +the portraits of these two women. + +The grandmother was, if not a typical _grande dame_, at least a +typical elegant woman of the latter half of the eighteenth century. +She was very well educated and refined, thanks to living with +the two sisters, Mlles. Verrieres, who were accustomed to the +best society. She was a good musician and sang delightfully. +When she married Dupin de Francueil, her husband was sixty-two, +just double her age. But, as she used to say to her granddaughter, +"no one was ever old in those days. It was the Revolution that +brought old age into the world." + +Dupin was a very agreeable man. When younger he had been _too_ agreeable, +but now he was just sufficiently so to make his wife very happy. +He was very lavish in his expenditure and lived like a prince, +so that he left Marie-Aurore ruined and poor with about three +thousand a year. She was imbued with the ideas of the philosophers +and an enemy of the Queen's _coterie_. She was by no means +alarmed at the Revolution and was very soon taken prisoner. +She was arrested on the 26th of November, 1793, and incarcerated +in the _Couvent des Anglaises_, Rue des Fosse's-Saint-Victor, +which had been converted into a detention house. On leaving prison +she settled down at Nohant, an estate she had recently bought. +It was there that her granddaughter remembered her in her early days. +She describes her as tall, slender, fair and always very calm. +At Nohant she had only her maids and her books for company. +When in Paris, she delighted in the society of people of her own station +and of her time, people who had the ideas and airs of former days. +She continued, in this new century, the shades of thought and the +manners and Customs of the old _regime._ + +As a set-off to this woman of race and of culture, Aurore's mother +represented the ordinary type of the woman of the people. +She was small, dark, fiery and violent. She, too, the bird-seller's +daughter, had been imprisoned by the Revolution, and strangely +enough in the _Couvent des Anglaises_ at about the same time +as Maurice de Saxe's granddaughter. It was in this way that +the fusion of classes was understood under the Terror. She was +employed as a _figurante_ in a small theatre. This was merely a +commencement for her career. At the time when Maurice Dupin met her, +she was the mistress of an old general. She already had one child +of doubtful parentage. Maurice Dupin, too, had a natural son, +named Hippolyte, so that they could not reproach each other. +When Maurice Dupin married Sophie-Victoire, a month before the birth +of Aurore, he had some difficulty in obtaining his mother's consent. +She finally gave in, as she was of an indulgent nature. It is +possible that Sophie-Victoire's conduct was irreproachable during +her husband's lifetime, but, after his death, she returned to +her former ways. She was nevertheless of religious habits and +would not, upon any account, have missed attending Mass. She was +quick-tempered, jealous and noisy and, when anything annoyed her, +extremely hot-headed. At such times she would shout and storm, +so that the only way to silence her was to shout still more loudly. +She never bore any malice, though, and wished no harm to those she +had insulted. She was of course sentimental, but more passionate +than tender, and she quickly forgot those whom she had loved most fondly. +There seemed to be gaps in her memory and also in her conscience. +She was ignorant, knowing nothing either of literature or of the +usages of society. Her _salon_ was the landing of her flat and her +acquaintances were the neighbours who happened to live next door to her. +It is easy to imagine what she thought of the aristocrats who visited +her mother-in-law. She was amusing when she joked and made parodies +on the women she styled "the old Countesses." She had a great deal +of natural wit, a liveliness peculiar to the native of the faubourgs, +all the impudence of the street arab, and a veritable talent +of mimicry. She was a good housewife, active, industrious and most +clever in turning everything to account. With a mere nothing she +could improvise a dress or a hat and give it a certain style. +She was always most skilful with her fingers, a typical Parisian +work-girl, a daughter of the street and a child of the people. +In our times she would be styled "a midinette." + +Such are the two women who shared the affection of Aurore Dupin. +Fate had brought them together, but had made them so unlike that they +were bound to dislike each other. The childhood of little Aurore +served as the lists for their contentions. Their rivalry was the +dominating note in the sentimental education of the child. + +As long as Maurice Dupin lived, Aurore was always with her parents in +their little Parisian dwelling. Maurice Dupin was a brilliant officer, +and very brave and jovial. In 1808, Aurore went to him in Madrid, +where he was Murat's _aide-de-camp_. She lived in the palace of +the Prince of Peace, that vast palace which Murat filled with the +splendour of his costumes and the groans caused by his suffering. +Like Victor Hugo, who went to the same place at about the same time +and under similar conditions, Aurore may have brought back with her + +_de ses courses lointaines_ + +_Comme un vaguefaisceau de lueurs incertaines._ + +This does not seem probable, though. The return was painful, as they +came back worried and ill, and were glad to take refuge at Nohant. +They were just beginning to organize their life when Maurice Dupin +died suddenly, from an accident when riding, leaving his mother +and his wife together. + +From this time forth, Aurore was more often with her grandmother at +Nohant than with her mother in Paris. Her grandmother undertook the +care of her education. Her half-brother, Hippolyte Chatiron, and she +received lessons from M. Deschartres, who had educated Maurice Dupin. +He was steward and tutor combined, a very authoritative man, +arrogant and a great pedant. He was affectionate, though, +and extremely devoted. He was both detestable and touching at +the same time, and had a warm heart hidden under a rough exterior. +Nohant was in the heart of Berry, and this meant the country and Nature. +For Aurore Dupin Nature proved to be an incomparable educator. + +There was only one marked trait in the child's character up +to this date, and that was a great tendency to reverie. For long +hours she would remain alone, motionless, gazing into space. +People were anxious about her when they saw her looking so _stupid_, +but her mother invariably said: "Do not be alarmed. She is always +ruminating about something." Country life, while providing her with +fresh air and plenty of exercise, so that her health was magnificent, +gave fresh food and another turn to her reveries. Ten years earlier +Alphonse de Lamartine had been sent to the country at Milly, +and allowed to frequent the little peasant children of the place. +Aurore Dupin's existence was now very much the same as that +of Lamartine. Nohant is situated in the centre of the Black Valley. +The ground is dark and rich; there are narrow, shady paths. +It is not a hilly country, and there are wide, peaceful horizons. +At all hours of the day and at all seasons of the year, +Aurore wandered along the Berry roads with her little playfellows, +the farmers' children. There was Marie who tended the flock, +Solange who collected leaves, and Liset and Plaisir who minded the pigs. +She always knew in what meadow or in what place she would find them. +She played with them amongst the hay, climbed the trees and dabbled +in the water. She minded the flock with them, and in winter, +when the herdsmen talked together, assembled round their fire, +she listened to their wonderful stories. These credulous country +children had "seen with their own eyes" Georgeon, the evil spirit +of the Black Valley. They had also seen will-o'-the-wisps, ghosts, +the "white greyhound" and the "Big Beast"! In the evenings, +she sat up listening to the stories told by the hemp-weaver. Her +fresh young soul was thus impregnated at an early age with the +poetry of the country. And it was all the poetry of the country, +that which comes from things, such as the freshness of the air +and the perfume of the flowers, but also that which is to be found +in the simplicity of sentiments and in that candour and surprise face +to face with those sights of Nature which have remained the same +and have been just as incomprehensible ever since the beginning of +the world. + +The antagonism of the two mothers increased, though. We will +not go into detail with regard to the various episodes, but will +only consider the consequences. + +The first consequence was that the intelligence of the child became +more keen through this duality. Placed as she was, in these two +different worlds, between two persons with minds so unlike, and, +obliged as she was to go from one to the other, she learnt to +understand and appreciate them both, contrasts though they were. +She had soon reckoned each of them up, and she saw their weaknesses, +their faults, their merits and their advantages. + +A second consequence was to increase her sensitiveness. Each time +that she left her mother, the separation was heartrending. +When she was absent from her, she suffered on account of this absence, +and still more because she fancied that she would be forgotten. +She loved her mother, just as she was, and the idea that any one was +hostile or despised her caused the child much silent suffering. +It was as though she had an ever-open wound. + +Another consequence, and by no means the least important one, was to +determine in a certain sense the immense power of sympathy within her. +For a long time she only felt a sort of awe, when with her reserved +and ceremonious grandmother. She felt nearer to her mother, as there +was no need to be on ceremony with her. She took a dislike to all +those who represented authority, rules and the tyranny of custom. +She considered her mother and herself as oppressed individuals. +A love for the people sprang up in the heart of the daughter of +Sophie-Victoire. She belonged to them through her mother, and she +was drawn to them now through the humiliations she underwent. +In this little enemy of reverences and of society people, we see +the dawn of that instinct which, later on, was to cause her to +revolt openly. George Sand was quite right in saying, later on, +that it was of no use seeking any intellectual reason as the explanation +of her social preferences. Everything in her was due to sentiment. +Her socialism was entirely the outcome of her suffering and torments +as a child. + +Things had to come to a crisis, and the crisis was atrocious. +George Sand gives an account of the tragic scene in her _Histoire de +ma vie_. Her grandmother had already had one attack of paralysis. +She was anxious about Aurore's future, and wished to keep +her from the influence of her mother. She therefore decided +to employ violent means to this end. She sent for the child +to her bedside, and, almost beside herself, in a choking voice, +she revealed to her all that she ought to have concealed. +She told her of Sophie-Victoire's past, she uttered the fatal word +and spoke of the child's mother as a lost woman. With Aurore's +extreme sensitiveness, it was horrible to receive such confidences +at the age of thirteen. Thirty years later, George Sand describes +the anguish of the terrible minute. "It was a nightmare," she says. +"I felt choked, and it was as though every word would kill me. +The perspiration came out on my face. I wanted to interrupt her, to get +up and rush away. I did not want to hear the frightful accusation. +I could not move, though; I seemed to be nailed on my knees, and my +head seemed to be bowed down by that voice that I heard above me, +a voice which seemed to wither me like a storm wind." + +It seems extraordinary that a woman, who was in reality so kind-hearted +and so wise, should have allowed herself to be carried away like this. +Passion has these sudden and unexpected outbursts, and we see here +a most significant proof of the atmosphere of passion in which +the child had lived, and which gradually insinuated itself within her. + + +Under these circumstances, Aurore's departure for the convent +was a deliverance. Until just recently, there has always been +a convent in vogue in France in which it has been considered +necessary for girls in good society to be educated. In 1817, +_the Couvent des Anglaises_ was in vogue, the very convent which +had served as a prison for the mother and grandmother of Aurore. +The three years she spent there in that "big feminine family, +where every one was as kind as God," she considered the most +peaceful and happy time of her life. The pages she devotes to them +in her _Histoire de ma vie_ have all the freshness of an oasis. +She describes most lovingly this little world, apart, exclusive and +self-sufficing, in which life was so intense. + +The house consisted of a number of constructions, and was situated +in the neighbourhood given up to convents. There were courtyards +and gardens enough to make it seem like a small village. +There was also a labyrinth of passages above and underground, +just as in one of Anne Radcliffe's novels. There were old walls +overgrown with vine and jasmine. The cock could be heard at midnight, +just as in the heart of the country, and there was a bell with +a silvery tone like a woman's voice. From her little cell, +Aurore looked over the tops of the great chestnut trees on to Paris, +so that the air so necessary for the lungs of a child accustomed +to wanderings in the country was not lacking in her convent home. +The pupils had divided themselves into three categories: +the _diables_, the good girls, who were the specially pious ones, +and the silly ones. Aurore took her place at once among the _diables_. +The great exploit of these convent girls consisted in descending into +the cellars, during recreation, and in sounding the walls, in order +to "deliver the victim." There was supposed to be an unfortunate +victim imprisoned and tortured by the good, kindhearted Sisters. +Alas! all the _diables_ sworn to the task in the _Couvent des +Anglaises_ never succeeded in finding the victim, so that she must be +there still. + +Very soon, though, a sudden change-took place in Aurore's soul. +It would have been strange had it been otherwise. With so +extraordinarily sensitive an organization, the new and totally +different surroundings could not fail to make an impression. +The cloister, the cemetery, the long services, the words of the ritual, +murmured in the dimly-lighted chapel, and the piety that seems to +hover in the air in houses where many prayers have been offered up-- +all this acted on the young girl. One evening in August, she had gone +into the church, which was dimly lighted by the sanctuary lamp. +Through the open window came the perfume of honeysuckle and the +songs of the birds. There was a charm, a mystery and a solemn +calm about everything, such as she had never before experienced. +"I do not know what was taking place within me," she said, +when describing this, later on, "but I breathed an atmosphere +that was indescribably delicious, and I seemed to be breathing it +in my very soul. Suddenly, I felt a shock through all my being, +a dizziness came over me, and I seemed to be enveloped in a white light. +I thought I heard a voice murmuring in my ear: _`Tolle Lege.'_ I +turned round, and saw that I was quite alone. . . ." + +Our modern _psychiatres_ would say that she had had an hallucination +of hearing, together with olfactory trouble. I prefer saying +that she had received the visit of grace. Tears of joy bathed +her face and she remained there, sobbing for a long time. + +The convent had therefore opened to Aurore another world of sentiment, +that of Christian emotion. Her soul was naturally religious, +and the dryness of a philosophical education had not been sufficient +for it. The convent had now brought her the aliment for which she +had instinctively longed. Later on, when her faith, which had +never been very enlightened, left her, the sentiment remained. +This religiosity, of Christian form, was essential to George Sand. + +The convent also rendered her another eminent service. +In the _Histoire de ma vie_, George Sand retraces from memory +the portraits of several of the Sisters. She tells us of Madame +Marie-Xavier, and of her despair at having taken the vows; of Sister +Anne-Joseph, who was as kind as an angel and as silly as a goose; +of the gentle Marie-Alicia, whose serene soul looked out of her +blue eyes, a mirror of purity, and of the mystical Sister Helene, +who had left home in spite of her family, in spite of the supplications +and the sobs of her mother and sisters, and who had passed over +the body of a child on her way to God. It is like this always. +The costumes are the same, the hands are clasped in the same manner, +the white bands and the faces look equally pale, but underneath this +apparent uniformity what contrasts! It is the inner life which marks +the differences so vigorously, and shows up the originality of each one. +Aurore gradually discovered the diversity of all these souls and the +beauty of each one. She thought of becoming a nun, but her confessor +did not advise this, and he was certainly wise. Her grandmother, +who had a philosopher's opinion of priests, blamed their fanaticism, +and took her little granddaughter away from the convent. Perhaps she +felt the need of affection for the few months she had still to live. +At any rate, she certainly had this affection. One of the first +results of the larger perspicacity which Aurore had acquired at +the convent was to make her understand her grandmother at last. +She was able now to grasp the complex nature of her relative and +to see the delicacy hidden under an appearance of great reserve. +She knew now all that she owed to her grandmother, but unfortunately +it was one of those discoveries which are made too late. + + +The eighteen months which Aurore now passed at Nohant, until the +death of her grandmother, are very important as regards her +psychological biography. She was seventeen years old, and a girl +who was eager to live and very emotional. She had first been +a child of Nature. Her convent life had taken her away from Nature +and accustomed her to falling back on her own thoughts. Nature now +took her back once more, and her beloved Nohant feted her return. + +"The trees were in flower," she says, "the nightingales were +singing, and, in the distance, I could hear the classic, solemn +sound of the labourers. My old friends, the big dogs, who had +growled at me the evening before, recognized me again and were profuse +in their caresses. . . ." + +She wanted to see everything again. The things themselves had +not changed, but her way of looking at them now was different. +During her long, solitary walks every morning, she enjoyed seeing +the various landscapes, sometimes melancholy-looking and sometimes +delightful. She enjoyed, too, the picturesqueness of the various +things she met, the flocks of cattle, the birds taking their flight, +and even the sound of the horses' feet splashing in the water. +She enjoyed everything, in a kind of voluptuous reverie which was +no longer instinctive, but conscious and a trifle morbid. + +Added to all this, her reading at this epoch was without any +order or method. She read everything voraciously, mixing all the +philosophers up together. She read Locke, Condillac, Montesquieu, +Bossuet, Pascal, Montaigne, but she kept Rousseau apart from +the others. She devoured the books of the moralists and poets, +La Bruyere, Pope, Milton, Dante, Virgil, Shakespeare. All this +reading was too much for her and excited her brain. She had reserved +Chateaubriand's _Rene_, and, on reading that, she was overcome +by the sadness which emanates from these distressing pages. She was +disgusted with life, and attempted to commit suicide. She tried +to drown herself, and only owed her life to the healthy-mindedness +of the good mare Colette, as the horse evidently had not the +same reasons as its young mistress for wishing to put an end to its days. + +All this time Aurore was entirely free to please herself. Deschartres, +who had always treated her as a boy, encouraged her independence. +It was at his instigation that she dressed in masculine attire to go +out shooting. People began to talk about her "eccentricities" +at Landerneau, and the gossip continued as far as La Chatre. +Added to this, Aurore began to study osteology with a young man +who lived in the neighbourhood, and it was said that this young man, +Stephane Ajasson de Grandsaigne, gave her lessons in her own room. +This was the climax. + +We have a curious testimony as regards the state of the young girl's +mind at this epoch. A review, entitled _Le Voile de pourpre_, +published recently, in its first number, a letter from Aurore +to her mother, dated November 18, 1821. Her mother had evidently +written to her on hearing the gossip about her, and had probably +enlarged upon it. + +"You reproach me, mother, with neither having timidity, modesty, +nor charm," she writes, "or at least you suppose that I have +these qualities, but that I refrain from showing them, and you +are quite certain that I have no outward decency nor decorum. +You ought to know me before judging me in this way. +You would then be able to form an opinion about my conduct. +Grandmother is here, and, ill though she is, she watches over +me carefully and lovingly, and she would not fail to correct +me if she considered that I had the manners of a dragoon or of a hussar." + +She considered that she had no need of any one to guide or protect her, +and no need of leading-strings. + +"I am seventeen," she says, "and I know my way about." + +If this Monsieur de Grandsaigne had ventured to take any liberty +with her, she was old enough to take care of herself. + +Her mother had blamed her for learning Latin and osteology. +"Why should a woman be ignorant?" she asks. "Can she not be well +educated without this spoiling her and without being pedantic? +Supposing that I should have sons in the future, and that I had +profited sufficiently by my studies to be able to teach them, +would not a mother's lessons be as good as a tutor's?" + +She was already challenging public opinion, starting a campaign +against false prejudices, showing a tendency to generalize, +and to make the cause of one woman the cause of all women. + +We must now bear in mind the various traits we have discovered, +one after another, in Aurore's character. We must remember to what +parentage she owed her intellectuality and her sentimentality. +It will then be more easy to understand the terms she uses when +describing her fascination for Rousseau's writings. + +"The language of Jean-Jacques and the form of his deductions impressed +me as music might have done when heard in brilliant sunshine. +I compared him to Mozart, and I understood everything." + +She understood him, for she recognized herself in him. +She sympathized with that predominance of feeling and imagination, +that exaggeration of sentiment, that preference for life according +to Nature, that emotion on beholding the various sights of the country, +that distrust of people, those effusions of religious sentimentality, +those solitary reveries, and that melancholy which made death seem +desirable to him. All this was to Aurore Dupin the gospel according +to Rousseau. The whole of her psychology is to be found here. + +She was an exceptional being undoubtedly; but in order to be a genial +exception one must have within oneself, and then personify with +great intensity all the inspirations which, at a certain moment, +are dispersed in the atmosphere. Ever since the great agitation +which had shaken the moral world by Rousseau's preaching, there had +been various vague currents and a whole crowd of confused aspirations +floating about. It was this enormous wave that entered a feminine soul. +Unconsciously Aurore Dupin welcomed the new ideal, and it was +this ideal which was to operate within her. The question was, +what would she do with it, in presence of life with all its everyday +and social realities. This question is the object of our study. +In the solution of it lies the interest, the drama and the lesson +of George Sand's destiny. + + + +II + +BARONNE DUDEVANT MARRIAGE AND FREEDOM--THE ARRIVAL IN PARIS-- +JULES SANDEAU + +We must now endeavour to discover what the future George Sand's +experiences of marriage were, and the result of these experiences +on the formation of her ideas. + +"You will lose your best friend in me," were the last words of the +grandmother to her granddaughter on her death-bed. The old lady +spoke truly, and Aurore was very soon to prove this. By a clause +in her will, Madame Dupin de Francueil left the guardianship of +Aurore to a cousin, Rene de Villeneuve. It was scarcely likely, +though, that Sophie-Victoire should consent to her own rights being +frustrated by this illegal clause, particularly as this man belonged +to the world of the "old Countesses." She took her daughter with +her to Paris. Unfortunately for her, Aurore's eyes were now open, +and she was cultured enough to have been in entire sympathy with +her exquisite grandmother. It was no longer possible for her to +have the old passionate affection and indulgence for her mother, +especially as she felt that she had hitherto been deserted by her. +She saw her mother now just as she was, a light woman belonging +to the people, a woman who could not resign herself to growing old. +If only Sophie-Victoire had been of a tranquil disposition! +She was most restless, on the contrary, wanting to change her +abode and change her restaurant every day. She would quarrel +with people one day, make it up the next; wear a different-shaped +hat every day, and change the colour of her hair continually. +She was always in a state of agitation. She loved police news +and thrilling stories; read the _Sherlock Holmes_ of those days +until the middle of the night. She dreamed of such stories, +and the following day went on living in an atmosphere of crime. +When she had an attack of indigestion, she always imagined that she +had been poisoned. When a visitor arrived, she thought it must be +a burglar. She was most sarcastic about Aurore's "fine education" +and her literary aspirations. Her hatred of the dead grandmother +was as strong as ever. She was constantly insulting her memory, +and in her fits of anger said unheard-of things. Aurore's silence +was her only reply to these storms, and this exasperated her mother. +She declared that she would correct her daughter's "sly ways." +Aurore began to wonder with terror whether her mother's mind were not +beginning to give way. The situation finally became intolerable. + +Sophie-Victoire took her daughter to spend two or three days with some +friends of hers, and then left her there. They lived in the country +at Plessis-Picard, near Melun. Aurore was delighted to find a vast +park with thickets in which there were roebucks bounding about. +She loved the deep glades and the water with the green reflections +of old willow trees. Monsieur James Duplessis and his wife, Angele, +were excellent people, and they adopted Aurore for the time being. +They already had five daughters, so that one more did not make +much difference. They frequented a few families in the neighbourhood, +and there was plenty of gaiety among the young people. The Duplessis +took Aurore sometimes to Paris and to the theatre. + +"One evening," we are told in the _Histoire de ma vie_, "we were having +some ices at Tortoni's after the theatre, when suddenly my mother +Angele said to her husband, `Why, there's Casimir!' A young man, +slender and rather elegant, with a gay expression and a military look, +came and shook hands, and answered all the questions he was asked +about his father, Colonel Dudevant, who was evidently very much +respected and loved by the family." + +This was the first meeting, the first appearance of Casimir +in the story, and this was how he entered into the life of Aurore. + +He was invited to Plessis, he joined the young people good-humouredly +in their games, was friendly with Aurore, and, without posing as a suitor, +asked for her hand in marriage. There was no reason for her to +refuse him. He was twenty-seven years of age, had served two years +in the army, and had studied law in Paris. He was a natural son, +of course, but he had been recognized by his father, Colonel Dudevant. +The Dudevant family was greatly respected. They had a _chateau_ +at Guillery in Gascony. Casimir had been well brought up and had +good manners. Aurore might as well marry him as any other young man. +It would even be preferable to marry him rather than another young man. +He was already her friend, and he would then be her husband. +That would not make much difference. + +The marriage almost fell through, thanks to Sophie-Victoire. +She did not consider Casimir good-looking enough. She was not +thinking of her daughter, but of herself. She had made up her +mind to have a handsome son-in-law with whom she could go out. +She liked handsome men, and particularly military men. +Finally she consented to the marriage, but, a fortnight before +the ceremony, she arrived at Plessis, like a veritable thunderbolt. +An extraordinary idea had occurred to her. She vowed that she +had discovered that Casimir had been a waiter at a _cafe_. +She had no doubt dreamt this, but she held to her text, and was +indignant at the idea of her daughter marrying a waiter! . . . + +Things had arrived at this crisis when Casimir's mother, +Madame Dudevant, who had all the manners of a _grande dame_, +decided to pay Sophie-Victoire an official visit. The latter was +greatly flattered, for she liked plenty of attention paid to her. +It was in this way that Aurore Dupin became Baronne Dudevant. + + +She was just eighteen years of age. It is interesting to read her +description of herself at this time. In her _Voyage en Auvergne_, +which was her first writing, dated 1827, she traces the following +portrait, which certainly is not exaggerated. + +"When I was sixteen," she says, "and left the convent, every one could +see that I was a pretty girl. I was fresh-looking, though dark. +I was like those wild flowers which grow without any art or culture, +but with gay, lively colouring. I had plenty of hair, which was +almost black. On looking at myself in the glass, though, I can +truthfully say that I was not very well pleased with myself. +I was dark, my features were well cut, but not finished. People said +that it was the expression of my face that made it interesting. +I think this was true. I was gay but dreamy, and my most natural +expression was a meditative one. People said, too, that in this +absent-minded expression there was a fixed look which resembled +that of the serpent when fascinating his prey. That, at any rate, +was the far-fetched comparison of my provincial adorers." + +They were not very far wrong, these provincial adorers. The portraits +of Aurore at this date show us a charming face of a young girl, +as fresh-looking as a child. She has rather long features, with a +delicately-shaped chin. She is not exactly pretty, but fascinating, +with those great dark eyes, which were her prominent feature, +eyes which, when fixed on any one, took complete possession +of them--dreamy, passionate eyes, sombre because the soul reflected +in them had profound depths. + +It is difficult to define that soul, for it was so complex. +To judge by appearances, it was a very peaceful soul, and perhaps, +too, it was in reality peaceful. George Sand, who knew herself +thoroughly, frequently spoke of her laziness and of her apathy, +traits peculiar to the natives of Berry. Superficial observers +looked no further, and her mother used to call her "St. Tranquillity." +The nuns, though, of her convent had more perspicacity. They said, +when speaking of her: "Still waters run deep." Under the smooth +surface they fancied that storms were gathering. Aurore had within +her something of her mother and of her grandmother, and their +opposite natures were blended in her. She had the calmness of +Marie-Aurore, but she also had the impetuousness of Sophie-Victoire, +and undoubtedly, too, something of the free and easy good humour of +her father, the break-neck young officer. It certainly is not +surprising to find a love of adventure in a descendant of Maurice de Saxe. + +Beside all these inner contrasts, the observer was particularly struck +by her sudden changes of humour, by the way in which, after a fit of +melancholy sadness, she suddenly gave way to the most exuberant gaiety, +followed by long fits of depression and nervous exhaustion. +Personally, I do not believe much in the influence of the physical +over the moral nature, but I am fully convinced of the action of the +moral over the physical nature. In certain cases and in presence +of extremely accentuated conditions, physiological explanations must +be taken into account. All these fits of melancholy and weeping, +this prostration, these high spirits and the long walks, in order +to sober down, denote the exigencies of an abnormal temperament. +When once the crisis was passed, it must not be supposed that, +as with many other people, nothing remained of it all. This was +by no means the case, as in a nature so extraordinarily organized +for storing up sensations nothing was lost, nothing evaporated, +and everything increased. The still water seemed to be slumbering. +Its violence, though held in check, was increasing in force, +and when once let loose, it would carry all before it. + +Such was the woman whom Casimir Dudevant was to marry. +The fascination was great; the honour rather to be feared, +for all depended on his skill in guiding this powerful energy. + +The question is whether he loved her. It has been said that it +was a marriage of interest, as Aurore's fortune amounted to twenty +thousand pounds, and he was by no means rich. This may have been so, +but there is no reason why money should destroy one's sentiments, +and the fact that Aurore had money was not likely to prevent +Casimir from appreciating the charms of a pretty girl. +It seems, therefore, very probable that he loved his young wife, +at any rate as much as this Casimir was capable of loving his wife. + +The next question is whether she loved him. It has been said +that she did, simply because she declared that she did not. +When, later on, after her separation, she spoke of her marriage, +all her later grievances were probably in her mind. There are +her earlier letters, though, which some people consider a proof +that she cared for Casimir, and there are also a few words jotted +down in her notebook. When her husband was absent, she was anxious +about him and feared that he had met with an accident. It would +be strange indeed if a girl of eighteen did not feel some affection +for the man who had been the first to make love to her, a man whom +she had married of her own free-will. It is rare for a woman to feel +no kind of attachment for her husband, but is that attachment love? +When a young wife complains of her husband, we hear in her reproaches +the protest of her offended dignity, of her humbled pride. +When a woman loves her husband, though, she does not reproach him, +guilty though he may be, with having humiliated and wounded her. +What she has against him then, is that he has broken her heart +by his lack of love for her. This note and this accent can +never be mistaken, and never once do we find it with Aurore. +We may therefore conclude that she had never loved her husband. + +Casimir did not know how to win her affection. He did not even +realize that he needed to win it. He was very much like all men. +The idea never occurs to them that, when once they are married, +they have to win their wife. + +He was very much like all men. . . . That is the most +faithful portrait that can be traced of Casimir at this epoch. +He had not as yet the vices which developed in him later on. +He had nothing to distinguish him from the average man. He was selfish, +without being disagreeable, rather idle, rather incapable, +rather vain and rather foolish. He was just an ordinary man. +The wife he had married, though, was not an ordinary woman. +That was their misfortune. As Emile Faguet has very wittily +put it, "Monsieur Dudevant, about whom she complained so much, +seems to have had no other fault than that of being merely an +ordinary man, which, of course, is unendurable to a superior woman. +The situation was perhaps equally unendurable for the man." This is +quite right, for Casimir was very soon considerably disconcerted. +He was incapable of understanding her psychology, and, as it +seemed impossible to him that a woman was not his inferior, +he came to the logical conclusion that his wife was "idiotic." +This was precisely his expression, and at every opportunity he +endeavoured to crush her by his own superiority. All this seems +to throw some light on his character and also on the situation. +Here was a man who had married the future George Sand, and he complained, +in all good faith, that his wife was "idiotic"! + +Certainly, on comparing the _Correspondance_ with the _Histoire +de ma vie_, the difference of tone is most striking. The letters +in which Baronne Dudevant tells, day by day, of her home life +are too enthusiastic for the letters of an unhappy wife. +There are receptions at Nohant, lively dinners, singing and dancing. +All this is, at any rate, the surface, but gradually +the misunderstandings are more pronounced, and the gulf widens. + +There may have been a misunderstanding at the very beginning of their +married life, and Aurore may have had a surprise of the nature of +the one to which Jane de Simerose confesses in _L'Ami des femmes_. +In an unpublished letter written much later on, in the year 1843, +from George Sand to her half-brother Hippolyte Chatiron on the +occasion of his daughter's engagement, the following lines occur: +"See that your son-in-law is not brutal to your daughter the first +night of their marriage. . . . Men have no idea that this +amusement of theirs is a martyrdom for us. Tell him to sacrifice +his own pleasure a little, and to wait until he has taught his wife +gradually to understand things and to be willing. There is nothing +so frightful as the horror, the suffering and the disgust of a poor +girl who knows nothing and who is suddenly violated by a brute. +We bring girls up as much as possible like saints, and then we +hand them over like fillies. If your son-in-law is an intelligent +man and if he really loves your daughter, he will understand +his _role_, and will not take it amiss that you should speak to him +beforehand."[2] + + +[2] Communicated by M. S. Rocheblave. + + +Is George Sand recalling here any hidden and painful memories? +Casimir had, at bottom, a certain brutality, which, later on, +was very evident. The question is whether he had shown proofs of it +at a time when it would have been wiser to have refrained. + +However that may be, the fundamental disagreement of their natures +was not long in making itself felt between the husband and wife. +He was matter-of-fact, and she was romantic; he only believed +in facts, and she in ideas; he was of the earth, earthy, whilst she +aspired to the impossible. They had nothing to say to each other, +and when two people have nothing to say, and love does not fill +up the silences, what torture the daily _tete-a-tete_ must be. +Before they had been married two years, they were bored to death. +They blamed Nohant, but the fault was in themselves. Nohant seemed +unbearable to them, simply because they were there alone with each other. +They went to Plessis, perhaps in the hope that the remembrance +of the days of their engagement might have some effect on them. +It was there, in 1824, that the famous scene of the blow took place. +They were playing at a regular children's game in the park, +and throwing sand at each other. Casimir lost his patience and +struck his wife. It was certainly impolite, but Aurore did not +appear to have been very indignant with her husband at the time. +Her grievances were quite of another kind, less tangible and much more +deeply felt. + +From Plessis they went to Ormesson. We do not know what took place there, +but evidently something which made a deep impression morally, +something very serious. A few years later, referring to this +stay at Ormesson, George Sand wrote to one of her friends: +"You pass by a wall and come to a house. . . . If you are allowed +to enter you will find a delightful English garden, at the bottom +of which is a spring of water hidden under a kind of grotto. +It is all very stiff and uninteresting, but it is very lonely. +I spent several months there, and it was there that I lost my health, +my confidence in the future, my gaiety and my happiness. +It was there that I felt, and very deeply too, my first approach +of trouble. . . ."[3] + + +[3] Extract from the unpublished letters of George Sand +to Dr. Emile Regnault. + + +They left Ormesson for Paris, and Paris for Nohant, and after that, +by way of trying to shake off the dulness that was oppressing them, +they had recourse to the classical mode of diversion--a voyage. + + +They set off on the 5th of July, 1825, for that famous expedition +to the Pyrenees, which was to be so important a landmark in Aurore +Dudevant's history. On crossing the Pyrenees, the scenery, +so new to her--or rather the memory of which had been lying dormant +in her mind since her childhood--filled her with wild enthusiasm. +This intense emotion contributed to develop within her that sense +of the picturesque which, later on, was to add so considerably to her +talent as a writer. She had hitherto been living in the country +of plains, the Ile-de-France and Berry. The contrast made her +realize all the beauties of nature, and, on her return, she probably +understood her own familiar scenery, and enjoyed it all the more. +She had hitherto appreciated it vaguely. Lamartine learnt to love +the severe scenery of Milly better on returning to it after the +softness of Italy. + +The Pyrenees served, too, for Baronne Dudevant as the setting +for an episode which was unique in her sentimental life. + +In the _Histoire de ma vie_ there is an enigmatical page in which +George Sand has intentionally measured and velled every expression. +She speaks of her moral solitude, which, at that time, was profound +and absolute, and she adds: "It would have been mortal to a tender +mind and to a girl in the flower of her youth, if it had not been +filled with a dream which had taken the importance of a great passion, +not in my life, as I had sacrificed my life to duty, but in my thoughts. +I was in continual correspondence with an absent person to whom I +told all my thoughts, all my dreams, who knew all my humble virtues, +and who heard all my platonic enthusiasm. This person was excellent +in reality, but I attributed to him more than all the perfections +possible to human nature. I only saw this man for a few days, +and sometimes only for a few hours, in the course of a year. He was +as romantic, in his intercourse with me, as I was. Consequently he +did not cause me any scruples, either of religion or of conscience. +This man was the stay and consolation of my exile, as regards the +world of reality." It was this dream, as intense as any passion, +that we must study here. We must make the acquaintance of this +excellent and romantic man. + +Aurelien de Seze was a young magistrate, a few years older than Aurore. +He was twenty-six years of age and she was twenty-one. He was the +great-nephew of the counsel who pleaded for Louis XVI. There was, +therefore, in his family a tradition of moral nobility, and the young +man had inherited this. He had met Aurore at Bordeaux and again +at Cauterets. They had visited the grottoes of Lourdes together. +Aurelien had appreciated the young wife's charm, although she had +not attempted to attract his attention, as she was not coquettish. +She appreciated in him--all that was so lacking in Casimir-- +culture of mind, seriousness of character, discreet manners which +people took at first for coldness, and a somewhat dignified elegance. +He was scrupulously honest, a magistrate of the old school, +sure of his principles and master of himself. It was, probably, +just that which appealed to the young wife, who was a true woman +and who had always wished to be dominated. When they met again +at Breda, they had an explanation. This was the "violent grief" +of which George Sand speaks. She was consoled by a friend, Zoe Leroy, +who found a way of calming this stormy soul. She came through this +crisis crushed with emotion and fatigue, but calm and joyful. +They had vowed to love each other, but to remain without reproach, +and their vow was faithfully kept. + +Aurore, therefore, had nothing with which to reproach herself, +but with her innate need of being frank, she considered it her duty +to write a letter to her husband, informing him of everything. +This was the famous letter of November 8, 1825. Later on, in 1836, +when her case for separation from her husband was being heard, +a few fragments of it were read by her husband's advocate with the +idea of incriminating her. By way of reply to this, George Sand's +advocate read the entire letter in all its eloquence and generosity. +It was greeted by bursts of applause from the audience. + +All this is very satisfactory. It is exactly the situation of the +Princess of Cleves in Madame de Lafayette's novel. The Princess +of Cleves acknowledges to her husband the love she cannot help +feeling for Monsieur de Nemours, and asks for his help and advice +as her natural protector. This fine proceeding is usually admired, +although it cost the life of the Prince of Cleves, who died +broken-hearted. Personally, I admire it too, although at times I +wonder whether we ought not rather to see in it an unconscious +suggestion of perversity. This confession of love to the person +who is being, as it were, robbed of that love, is in itself a kind +of secret pleasure. By speaking of the love, it becomes more real, +we bring it out to light instead of letting it die away in those +hidden depths within us, in which so many of the vague sentiments +which we have not cared to define, even to ourselves, die away. +Many women have preferred this more silent way, in which they alone have +been the sufferers. But such women are not the heroines of novels. +No one has appreciated their sacrifice, and they themselves could +scarcely tell all that it has cost them. + +Aurelien de Seze had taken upon himself the _role_ of confidant +to this soul that he had allotted to himself. He took his _role_ +very seriously, as was his custom in all things. He became the young +wife's director in all matters of conscience. The letters which he +wrote to her have been preserved, and we know them by the extracts +and the analysis that Monsieur Rocheblave has given us and by his +incisive commentaries of them.[4] They are letters of guidance, +spiritual letters. The laic confessor endeavours, before all things, +to calm the impatience of this soul which is more and more ardent +and more and more troubled every day. He battles with her about +her mania of philosophizing, her wish to sift everything and to +get to the bottom of everything. Strong in his own calmness, +he kept repeating to her in a hundred different ways the words: +"Be calm!" The advice was good; the only difficulty was the following +of the advice. + + +[4] "George Sand avant George Sand," by S. Rocheblave (_Revue +de Paris_, December 15, 1894). + + +Gradually the professor lost his hold on his pupil, for it seems +as though Aurore were the first to tire. Aurelien finally began +to doubt the efficacy of his preaching. The usual fate of sentiments +outside the common order of things is that they last the length +of time that a crisis of enthusiasm lasts. The best thing that can +happen then is that their nature should not change, that they should +not deteriorate, as is so often the case. When they remain intact +to the end, they leave behind them, in the soul, a trail of light, +a trail of cold, pure light. + + +The decline of this platonic _liaison_ with Aurelien de Seze dates +from 1828. Some grave events were taking place at Nohant about +this time. For the last few years Casimir had fallen into the +vices of certain country squires, or so-called gentlemen farmers. +He had taken to drink, in company with Hippolyte Chatiron, and it +seems that the intoxication peculiar to the natives of Berry takes +a heavy and not a gay form. He had also taken to other bad habits, +away from home at first, and later on under the conjugal roof. +He was particularly partial to the maid-servants, and, the day following +the birth of her daughter, Solange, Aurore had an unpleasant surprise +with regard to her husband. From that day forth, what had hitherto +been only a vague wish on her part became a fixed idea with her, +and she began to form plans. A certain incident served as a pretext. +When putting some papers in order, Aurore came upon her husband's will. +It was a mere diatribe, in which the future "deceased" gave +utterance to all his past grievances against his _idiotic_ wife. +Her mind was made up irrevocably from this moment. She would have +her freedom again; she would go to Paris and spend three months +out of six there. She had a young tutor from the south of France, +named Boucoiran, educating her children. This Boucoiran needed +to be taken to task constantly, and Baronne Dudevant did not spare +him.[5] + + +[5] An instance of her disposition for lecturing will be seen in the +following curious letter sent by George Sand to her friend and neighbour, +Adolphe Duplomb. This letter has never been published before, +and we owe our thanks for it to Monsieur Charles Duplomb. + +_Nohant, July_ 23,1830. + + +"Are you so very much afraid of me, my poor Hydrogene? You expect +a good lecture and you will not expect in vain. Have patience, +though. Before giving you the dressing you deserve, I want to tell +you that I have not forgotten you, and that I was very vexed on +returning from Paris, to find my great simpleton of a son gone. +I am so used to seeing your solemn face that I quite miss it. +You have a great many faults, but after all, you are a good sort, +and in time you will get reasonable. Try to remember occasionally, +my dear Plombeus, that you have friends. If I were your only friend, +that would be a great deal, as I am to be depended on, and am +always at my post as a friend, although I may not be very tender. +I am not very polite either, as I speak the truth plainly. +That is my characteristic, though. I am a firm friend nevertheless, +and to be depended on. Do not forget what I have said now, +as I shall not often repeat this. Remember, too, that happiness +in this world depends on the interest and esteem that we inspire. +I do not say this to every one, as it would be impossible, +but just to a certain number of friends. It is impossible to find +one's happiness entirely in one's self, without being an egoist, +and I do not think so badly of you that I imagine you to be one. +A man whom no one cares for is wretched, and the man who has friends +is afraid of grieving them by behaving badly. As Polyte says, +all this is for the sake of letting you know that you must do +your best to behave well, if you want to prove to me that you +are not ungrateful for my interest in you. You ought to get +rid of the bad habit of boasting that you have adopted through +frequenting young men as foolish as yourself. Do whatever your +position and your health allow you to do, provided that you do +not compromise the honour or the reputation of any one else. +I do not see that a young man is called upon to be as chaste as a nun. +But keep your good or bad luck in your love affairs to yourself. +Silly talk is always repeated, and it may chance to get to the ears +of sensible people who will disapprove. Try, too, not to make +so many plans, but to carry out just one or two of them. You know +that is why I quarrel with you always. I should like to see more +constancy in you. You tell Hippolyte that you are very willing +and courageous. As to physical courage, of the kind that consists +in enduring illness and in not fearing death, I dare say you +have that, but I doubt very much whether you have the courage +necessary for sustained work, unless you have very much altered. +Everything fresh delights you, but after a little time you only +see the inconveniences of your position. You will scarcely find +anything without something that is annoying and troublesome, +but if you cannot learn to put up with things you will never be +a man. + +"This is the end of my sermon. I expect you have had enough of it, +especially as you are not accustomed to reading my bad handwriting. +I shall be glad to hear from you, but do not consider your +letter as a State affair, and do not torment yourself to arrange +well-turned phrases. I do not care for such phrases at all. +A letter is always good enough when the writer expresses himself +naturally, and says what he thinks. Fine pages are all very well +for the schoolmaster, but I do not appreciate them at all. +Promise me to be reasonable, and to think of my sermons now and then. +That is all I ask. You may be very sure that if it were not for my +friendship for you I should not take the trouble to lecture you. +I should be afraid of annoying you if it were not for that. +As it is, I am sure that you are not displeased to have my lectures, +and that you understand the feeling which dictates them. + +"Adieu, my dear Adolphe. Write to me often and tell me always +about your affairs. Take care of yourself, and try to keep well; +but if you should feel ill come back to your native place. +There will always be milk and syrup for you, and you know that I am +not a bad nurse. Every one wishes to be remembered to you, and I +send you my holy blessing. + +"AURORE D----" + +{The end of footnote [5]} + + +She considered him idle, and reproached him with his lack of +dignity and with making himself too familiar with his inferiors. +She could not admit this familiarity, although she was certainly +a friend of the people and of the peasants. Between sympathy +and familiarity there was a distinction, and Aurore took care not +to forget this. There was always something of the _grande dame_ +in her. Boucoiran was devoted, though, and she counted on him for +looking after her children, for keeping her strictly _au courant_, +and letting her know in case of illness. Perfectly easy on this score, +she could live in Paris on an income of sixty pounds by adding +to it what she could earn. + +Casimir made no objections. All that happened later on in +this existence, which was from henceforth so stormy, happened +with his knowledge and with his consent. He was a poor sort of man. + +Let us consider now, for a moment, Baronne Dudevant's impressions after +such a marriage. We will not speak of her sadness nor of her disgust. +In a union of this kind, how could the sacred and beneficial character +of marriage have appeared to her? A husband should be a companion. +She never knew the charm of true intimacy, nor the delight of thoughts +shared with another. A husband is the counsellor, the friend. +When she needed counsel, she was obliged to go elsewhere for it, +and it was from another man that guidance and encouragement came. +A husband should be the head and, I do not hesitate to say, +the master. Life is a ceaseless struggle, and the man who has taken +upon himself the task of defending a family from all the dangers +which threaten its dissolution, from all the enemies which prowl +around it, can only succeed in his task of protector if he be +invested with just authority. Aurore had been treated brutally: +that is not the same thing as being dominated. The sensation +which never left her was that of an immense moral solitude. +She could no longer dream in the Nohant avenues, for the old trees +had been lopped, and the mystery chased away. She shut herself up +in her grandmother's little boudoir, adjoining her children's room, +so that she could hear them breathing, and whilst Casimir and Hippolyte +were getting abominably intoxicated, she sat there thinking things over, +and gradually becoming so irritated that she felt the rebellion within +her gathering force. The matrimonial bond was a heavy yoke to her. +A Christian wife would have submitted to it and accepted it, +but the Christianity of Baronne Dudevant was nothing but religiosity. +The trials of life show up the insufficiency of religious sentiment +which is not accompanied by faith. Marriage, without love, +friendship, confidence and respect, was for Aurore merely a prison. +She endeavoured to escape from it, and when she succeeded she uttered +a sigh of relief at her deliverance. + +Such, then, is the chapter of marriage in Baronne Dudevant's psychology. +It is a fine example of failure. The woman who had married badly +now remained an individual, instead of harmonizing and blending +in a general whole. This ill-assorted union merely accentuated +and strengthened George Sand's individualism. + +Aurore Dudevant arrived in Paris the first week of the year 1831. +The woman who was rebellious to marriage was now in a city which had +just had a revolution. + +The extraordinary effervescence of Paris in 1831 can readily be imagined. +There was tempest in the air, and this tempest was bound to break +out here or there, either immediately or in the near future, +in an insurrection. Every one was feverishly anxious to destroy +everything, in order to create all things anew. In everything, +in art, ideas and even in costume, there was the same explosion +of indiscipline, the same triumph of capriciousness. Every day some +fresh system of government was born, some new method of philosophy, +an infallible receipt for bringing about universal happiness, +an unheard-of idea for manufacturing masterpieces, some invention +for dressing up and having a perpetual carnival in the streets. +The insurrection was permanent and masquerade a normal state. +Besides all this, there was a magnificent burst of youth and genius. +Victor Hugo, proud of having fought the battle of _Hernani_, +was then thinking of _Notre-Dame_ and climbing up to it. +Musset had just given his _Contes d'Espagne el d'Italie_. Stendhal +had published _Le Rouge et le Noir_, and Balzac _La Peau de Chagrin_. +The painters of the day were Delacroix and Delaroche. Paganini was +about to give his first concert at the Opera. Such was Paris in all +its impatience and impertinence, in its confusion and its splendour +immediately after the Revolution. + +The young wife, who had snapped her bonds asunder, breathed voluptuously +in this atmosphere. She was like a provincial woman enjoying Paris +to the full. She belonged to the romantic school, and was imbued +with the principle that an artist must see everything, know everything, +and have experienced himself all that he puts into his books. +She found a little group of her friends from Berry in Paris, +among others Felix Pyat, Charles Duvernet, Alphonse Fleury, +Sandeau and de Latouche. This was the band she frequented, +young men apprenticed either to literature, the law, or medicine. +With them she lived a student's life. In order to facilitate her +various evolutions, she adopted masculine dress. In her _Histoite +de ma vie_ she says: "Fashion helped me in my disguise, for men +were wearing long, square frock-coats styled a _la proprietaire_. +They came down to the heels, and fitted the figure so little that +my brother, when putting his on, said to me one day at Nohant: +`It is a nice cut, isn't it? The tailor takes his measures from +a sentry-box, and the coat then fits a whole regiment.' I had `a +sentry-box coat' made, of rough grey cloth, with trousers and waistcoat +to match. With a grey hat and a huge cravat of woollen material, +I looked exactly like a first-year student. . . ." + +Dressed in this style, she explored the streets, museums, cathedrals, +libraries, painters' studios, clubs and theatres. She heard Frederick +Lemaitre one day, and the next day Malibran. One evening it was +one of Dumas' pieces, and the next night _Moise_ at the Opera. +She took her meals at a little restaurant, and she lived in an attic. +She was not even sure of being able to pay her tailor, so she had all +the joys possible. "Ah, how delightful, to live an artist's life! +Our device is liberty!" she wrote.[6] She lived in a perpetual state +of delight, and, in February, wrote to her son Maurice as follows: +"Every one is at loggerheads, we are crushed to death in the streets, +the churches are being destroyed, and we hear the drum being beaten +all night."[7] In March she wrote to Charles Duvernet: "Do you know +that fine things are happening here? It really is amusing to see. +We are living just as gaily among bayonets and riots as if everything +were at peace. All this amuses me."[8] + + +[6] _Correspondance_: To Boucoiran, March 4, 1831. [7] _Ibid_. +To Maurice Dudevant, February 15, I831. [8] _Ibid_. To Charles Duvernet, +March 6, 1831. + + +She was amused at everything and she enjoyed everything. +With her keen sensitiveness, she revelled in the charm of Paris, +and she thoroughly appreciated its scenery. + +"Paris," she wrote, "with its vaporous evenings, its pink clouds +above the roofs, and the beautiful willows of such a delicate green +around the bronze statue of our old Henry, and then, too, the dear +little slate-coloured pigeons that make their nests in the old +masks of the Pont Neuf . . ."[9] + + +[9] Unpublished letters of Dr. Emile Regnault. + + +She loved the Paris sky, so strange-looking, so rich in colouring, +so variable.[10] + + +[10] _Ibid_. + + +She became unjust with regard to Berry. "As for that part of the +world which I used to love so dearly and where I used to dream +my dreams," she wrote, "I was there at the age of fifteen, when I +was very foolish, and at the age of seventeen, when I was dreamy +and disturbed in my mind. It has lost its charm for me now."[11] + + +[11] _Ibid_. + + +She loved it again later on, certainly, but just at this time she +was over-excited with the joy of her newly-found liberty. It was +that really which made her so joyful and which intoxicated her. +"I do not want society, excitement, theatres, or dress; what I want +is freedom," she wrote to her mother. In another letter she says: +"I am absolutely independent. I go to La Chatre, to Rome. I start +out at ten o'clock or at midnight. I please myself entirely in all +this."[12] + + +[12] _Correspondance_: To her mother, May 31, 1831. + + +She was free, and she fancied she was happy. Her happiness +at that epoch meant Jules Sandeau. + +In a letter, written in the humoristic style in which she delighted, +she gives us portraits of some of her comrades of that time. +She tells us of Duvernet, of Alphonse Fleury, surnamed "the Gaulois," +and of Sandeau. + +"Oh, fair-haired Charles!" she writes, "young man of melancholy +thoughts, with a character as gloomy as a stormy day. . . . +And you, gigantic Fleury, with your immense hands and your alarming +beard. . . . And you, dear Sandeau, agreeable and light, +like the humming bird of fragrant savannahs!"[13] + + +[13] _Correspondance_: December 1, 1830. + + +The "dear Sandeau, agreeable and light, like the humming bird +of fragrant savannahs," was to be Baronne Dudevant's Latin +Quarter _liaison_. Her biographers usually pass over this +_liaison_ quickly, as information about it was not forthcoming. +Important documents exist, though, in the form of fifty letters +written by George Sand to Dr. Emile Regnault, then a medical student +and the intimate friend and confidant of Jules Sandeau, who kept +nothing back from him. His son, Dr. Paul Regnault, has kindly +allowed me to see this correspondence and to reproduce some fragments +of it. It is extremely curious, by turn lyrical and playful, +full of effusions, ideas, plans of work, impressions of nature, +and confidences about her love affairs. Taken altogether it reflects, +as nearly as possible, the state of the young woman's mind at this time. + +The first letter is dated April, 1831. George Sand had left +Paris for Nohant, and is anxiously wondering how her poor Jules +has passed this wretched day, and how he will go back to the room +from which she had torn herself with such difficulty that morning. +In her letter she gives utterance to the gratitude she owes to the young +man who has reconciled her once more to life. "My soul," she says, +"eager itself for affection, needed to inspire this in a heart capable +of understanding me thoroughly, with all my faults and qualities. +A fervent soul was necessary for loving me in the way that I +could love, and for consoling me after all the ingratitude which +had made my earlier life so desolate. And although I am now old, +I have found a heart as young as my own, a lifelong affection +which nothing can discourage and which grows stronger every day. +Jules has taught me to care once more for this existence, of which I +was so weary, and which I only endured for the sake of my children. +I was disgusted beforehand with the future, but it now seems more +beautiful to me, full as it appears to me of him, of his work, +his success, and of his upright, modest conduct. . . . Oh, if you +only knew how I love him! . . . ."[14] + + +[14] This quotation and those that follow are borrowed from +the unpublished correspondence with Emile Regnault. + + +"When I first knew him I was disillusioned about everything, and I +no longer believed in those things which make us happy. He has warmed +my frozen heart and restored the life that was dying within me." +She then recalls their first meeting. It was in the country, +at Coudray, near Nohant. She fell in love with her dear Sandeau, +thanks to his youthfulness, his timidity and his awkwardness. +He was just twenty, in 1831. On approaching the bench where she +was awaiting him, "he concealed himself in a neighbouring avenue-- +and I could see his hat and stick on the bench," she writes. +"Everything, even to the little red ribbon threaded in the lining of his +grey hat, thrilled me with joy. . . ." + +It is difficult to say why, but everything connected with this young +Jules seems absurd. Later on we get the following statement: +"Until the day when I told him that I loved him, I had never acknowledged +as much to myself. I felt that I did, but I would not own it even to my +own heart. Jules therefore learnt it at the same time as I did myself." + +People at La Chatre took the young man for her lover. The idea +of finding him again in Paris was probably one of her reasons +for wishing to establish herself there. Then came her life, as she +describes it herself, "in the little room looking on to the quay. +I can see Jules now in a shabby, dirty-looking artist's frock-coat, +with his cravat underneath him and his shirt open at the throat, +stretched out over three chairs, stamping with his feet or breaking +the tongs in the heat of the discussion. The Gaulois used to sit in +a corner weaving great plots, and you would be seated on a table. + +All this must certainly have been charming. The room +was too small, though, and George Sand commissioned +Emile Regnault to find her a flat, the essential +condition of which should be some way of egress for Jules at any hour. + +A little flat was discovered on the Quay St. Michel. There were +three rooms, one of which could be reserved. "This shall +be the dark room," wrote George Sand, "the mysterious room, +the ghost's retreat, the monster's den, the cage of the performing +animal, the hiding-place for the treasure, the vampire's cave, +or whatever you like to call it. . . ." + +In plainer language, it was Jules' room; and then follows some touching +eloquence about the dear boy she worshipped who loved her so dearly. + +This is the beginning of things, but later on the tone of the +correspondence changes. The letters become less frequent, and are +also not so gay. George Sand speaks much less of Jules in them +and much more of little Solange, whom she intended to bring back +to Paris with her. She is beginning to weary of Jules and to esteem +him at his true value. He is lazy, and has fits of depression and all +the capriciousness of a spoilt child. She has had enough of him, +and then, too, it is very evident from the letters that there has +been some division among the lively friends who had sworn to be +comrades for life. There are explanations and justifications. +George Sand discovers that there are certain inconveniences +connected with intimacies in which there is such disproportion +of age and of social position. Finally there are the following +desperate letters, written in fits of irritation: "My dear friend, +go to Jules and look after him. He is broken-hearted, and you +can do nothing for him in that respect. It is no use trying. +I do not ask you to come to me yet, as I do not need anything. +I would rather be alone to-day. Then, too, there is nothing left +for me in life. It will be horrible for him for a long time, +but he is so young. The day will come, perhaps, when he will not be +sorry to have lived. . . . + +Do not attempt to put matters right, as this time there is no remedy. +We do not blame each other at all, and for some time we have been +struggling against this horrible necessity. We have had trouble enough. +There seemed to be nothing left but to put an end to our lives, +and if it had not been for my children, we should have done this. + +The question is, Was George Sand blameless in the matter? It appears +that she had discovered that her dear Jules was faithless to her, +and that, during her absence, he had deceived her. She would not +forgive him, but sent him off to Italy, and refused to see him again. +The last of these letters is dated June 15, 1833. + +"I shall make a parcel of a few of Jules' things that he left +in the wardrobe," she says, "and I will send them to you. +I do not want anything to do with him when he comes back, +and, according to the last words of the letter you showed me, +his return may be soon. For a long time I have been very much hurt +by the discoveries I made with regard to his conduct, and I could +not feel anything else for him now but affectionate compassion. +His pride, I hope, would refuse this. Make him clearly understand, +if necessary, that there can never be anything more between us. +If this hard task should not be necessary, that is, if Jules should +himself understand that it could not be otherwise, spare him the +sorrow of hearing that he has lost everything, even my respect. +He must undoubtedly have lost his own self-esteem, so that he is +punished enough." + +Thus ended this great passion. This was the first of George +Sand's errors, and it certainly was an immense one. She had imagined +that happiness reigns in students' rooms. She had counted on the +passing fancy of a young man of good family, who had come to Paris +to sow his wild oats, for giving her fresh zest and for carving out +for herself a fresh future. It was a most commonplace adventure, +utterly destitute of psychology, and by its very bitterness it contrasted +strangely with her elevated sentimental romance with Aurelien de Seze. +That was the quintessence of refinement. All that is interesting +about this second adventure is the proof that it gives us of George +Sand's wonderful illusions, of the intensity of the mirage of +which she was a dupe, and of which we have so many instances in her life. + +Baronne Dudevant had tried conjugal life, and she had now tried +free love. She had been unsuccessful in both instances. +It is to these adventures though, to these trials, errors and +disappointments that we owe the writer we are about to study. +George Sand was now born to literature. + + + +III + +A FEMINIST OF 1832 + +THE FIRST NOVELS AND THE QUESTION OF MARRIAGE + + +When Baronne Dudevant arrived in Paris, in 1831, her intention was +to earn her living with her pen. She never really counted seriously +on the income she might make by her talent for painting flowers +on snuff-boxes and ornamenting cigar-cases with water-colours. She +arrived from her province with the intention of becoming a writer. +Like most authors who commence, she first tried journalism. +On the 4th of March, she wrote as follows to the faithful Boucoiran: +"In the meantime I must live, and for the sake of that, I have taken +up the worst of trades: I am writing articles for the _Figaro_. +If only you knew what that means! They are paid for, though, at the rate +of seven francs a column." + +She evidently found it worth while to write for the _Figaro_, +which at that time was quite a small newspaper, managed by Henri +de Latouche, who also came from Berry. He was a very second-rate +writer himself, and a poet with very little talent but, at any rate, +he appreciated and discovered talent in others. He published Andre +Chenier's first writings, and he introduced George Sand to the public. +His new apprentice was placed at one of the little tables at which +the various parts of the paper were manufactured. Unfortunately she +had not the vocation for this work. The first principle with regard +to newspaper articles is to make them short. When Aurore had come +to the end of her paper, she had not yet commenced her subject. +It was no use attempting to continue, so she gave up "the worst +of trades," lucrative though it might be. + +She could not help knowing, though, that she had the gift of writing. +She had inherited it from her ancestors, and this is the blest part +of her atavism. No matter how far back we go, and in every branch +of her genealogical tree, there is artistic heredity to be found. +Maurice de Saxe wrote his _Reveries_. This was a fine book for +a soldier to write, and for that alone he would deserve praise, +even if he had not beaten the Enlish so gloriously. Mademoiselle +Verrieres was an actress and Dupin de Francueil a dilettante. +Aurore's grandmother, Marie-Aurore, was very musical, she sang +operatic songs, and collected extracts from the philosophers. +Maurice Dupin was devoted to music and to the theatre. +Even Sophie-Victoire had an innate appreciation of beauty. +She not only wept, like Margot, at melodrama, but she noticed the pink +of a cloud, the mauve of a flower, and, what was more important, +she called her little daughter's attention to such things. +This illiterate mother had therefore had some influence on Aurore +and on her taste for literature. + +It is not enough to say that George Sand was a born writer. She was +a born novelist, and she belonged to a certain category of novelists. +She had been created by a special decree of Providence to write her +own romances, and not others. It is this which makes the history +of the far-back origins of her literary vocation so interesting. +It is extremely curious to see, from her earliest childhood, +the promises of those faculties which were to become the very essence +of her talent. When she was only three years old, her mother +used to put her between four chairs in order to keep her still. +By way of enlivening her captivity, she tells us what she did. + +"I used to make up endless stories, which my mother styled +my novels. . . . I told these stories aloud, and my mother +declared that they were most tiresome on account of their length +and of the development I gave to my digressions. . . . There were +very few bad people in them, and never any serious troubles. +Everything was always arranged satisfactorily, thanks to my lively, +optimistic ideas. . . ." + +She had already commenced, then, at the age of three, and these +early stories are the precursors of the novels of her maturity. +They are optimistic, drawn out, and with long digressions. +Something similar is told about Walter Scott. There is evidently +a primordial instinct in those who are born story-tellers, and this +urges them on to invent fine stories for amusing themselves. + +A little later on we have another phenomenon, almost as curious, +with regard to Aurore. We are apt to wonder how certain descriptive +writers proceed in order to give us pictures, the various features +of which stand out in such intense relief that they appear absolutely +real to us. George Sand tells us that when Berquin's stories were +being read to her at Nohant, she used to sit in front of the fire, +from which she was protected by an old green silk screen. +She used gradually to lose the sense of the phrases, but pictures +began to form themselves in front of her on the green screen. + +"I saw woods, meadows, rivers, towns of strange and gigantic +architecture. . . . One day these apparitions were so real that +I was startled by them, and I asked my mother whether she could +see them." + + +With hallucinations like these a writer can be picturesque. +He has in front of him, although it may be between four walls, +a complete landscape. He has only to follow the lines of it and to +reproduce the colours, so that in painting imaginary landscapes he +can paint them from nature, from this model that appears to him, +as though by enchantment. He can, if he likes, count the leaves of +the trees and listen to the sound of the growing grass. + +Still later on, vague religious or philosophical conceptions began +to mingle with the fiction that Aurore always had in her mind. +To her poetical life, was added a moral life. She always had a +romance going on, to which she was constantly adding another chapter, +like so many links in a never-ending chain. She now gave a hero +to her romance, a hero whose name was Corambe. He was her ideal, +a man whom she had made her god. Whilst blood was flowing freely +on the altars of barbarous gods, on Corambe's altar life and liberty +were given to a whole crowd of captive creatures, to a swallow, +to a robin-redbreast, and even to a sparrow. We see already in all +this her tendency to put moral intentions into her romantic stories, +to arrange her adventures in such a way that they should serve +as examples for making mankind better. These were the novels, +with a purpose, of her twelfth year. + +Let us now study a striking contrast, by way of observing the +first signs of vocation in two totally different novelists. +In the beginning of _Facino Cane_, Balzac tells us an incident +of the time when, as an aspiring writer, he lived in his attic +in the Rue Lesdiguieres. One evening, on coming out of the theatre, +he amused himself with following a working-man and his wife from +the Boulevard du Pontaux-Choux to the Boulevard Beaumarchais. +He listened to them as they talked of the piece they had just seen. +They then discussed their business matters, and afterwards house +and family affairs. "While listening to this couple," says Balzac, +"I entered into their life. I could feel their clothes on my back and, +I was walking in their shabby boots." + +This is the novelist of the objective school, the one who comes +out of himself, who ceases to be himself and becomes another person. + +Instead of this exterior world, to which Balzac adapts himself, +Aurore talks to us of an inner world, emanating from her own fancy, +the reflection of her own imagination, the echo of her own heart, +which is really herself. This explains the difference between +Balzac's impersonal novel and George Sand's personal novel. +It is just the difference between realistic art, which gives way +to the object, and idealistic art, which transforms this according +to its own will and pleasure. + + +Up to this time George Sand's ideas had not been put on to paper. +Both _Corambe_ and the stories composed between four chairs were merely +fancies of a child's mind. Aurore soon began to write, though. +She had composed two novels while in the convent, one of which was +religious and the other a pastoral story. She was wise enough to +tear them both up. On leaving the convent she wrote another novel +for Rene' de Villeneuve, and this shared the same fate. In 1827, +she wrote her _Voyage en Auvergne_, and in 1829, another novel. +In her _Histoire de ma vie_ she says of this: "After reading it, +I was convinced that it was of no value, but at the same time I was +sure I could write a better one. . . . I saw that I could write +quickly and easily, and without feeling any fatigue. The ideas that +were lying dormant in my mind were quickened and became connected, +by my deductions, as I wrote. With my meditative life, I had observed +a great deal, and had understood the various characters which Fate +had put in my way, so that I really knew enough of human nature +to be able to depict it." She now had that facility, that abundance +of matter and that nonchalance which were such characteristic +features of her writing. + +When George Sand began to publish, she had already written a great deal. +Her literary formation was complete. We notice this same thing +whenever we study the early work of a writer. Genius is revealed +to us, perhaps, with a sudden flash, but it has been making its way +for a long time underground, so that what we take for a spontaneous +burst of genius is nothing but the final effort of a sap which has +been slowly accumulating and which from henceforth is all-powerful. + + +George Sand had to go through the inevitable period of feeling +her way. We are glad to think that the first book she published +was not written by herself alone, so that the responsibility +of that execrable novel does not lie solely with her. + +On the 9th of March, 1831, George Sand wrote to Boucoiran as follows: +"Monstrosities are in vogue, so we must invent monstrosities. +I am bringing forth a very pleasant one just at present. . . ." +This was the novel written in collaboration with Sandeau which +appeared under the signature of Jules Sand towards the end of 1831. +It was entitled, _Rose et Blanche, ou la Comedienne et la Religieuse_. + +It begins by a scene in a coach, rather like certain novels by Balzac, +but accompanied by insignificant details in the worst taste imaginable. +Two girls are travelling in the same coach. Rose is a young comedian, +and Sister Blanche is about to become a nun. They separate at Tarbes, +and the scene of the story is laid in the region of the Pyrenees, +in Tarbes Auch, Nerac, the Landes, and finishes with the return +to Paris. Rose, after an entertainment which is a veritable orgy, +is handed over by her mother to a licentious young man. +He is ashamed of himself, and, instead of leading Rose astray, +he takes her to the Convent of the Augustines, where she finds Sister +Blanche once more. Sister Blanche has not yet pronounced her vows, +and the proof of this is that she marries Horace. But what a wedding! +As a matter of fact, Sister Blanche was formerly named Denise. +She was the daughter of a seafaring man of Bordeaux, and was both +pretty and foolish. She had been dishonoured by the young libertine +whom she is now to marry. The memory of the past comes back to Blanche, +and makes her live over again her life as Denise. In the mean time +Rose had become a great singer. She now arrives, just in time to be +present at her friend's deathbed. She enters the convent herself, +and takes the place left vacant by Sister Blanche. The whole of this +is absurd and frequently very disagreeable. + +It is quite easy to distinguish the parts due to the two collaborators, +and to see that George Sand wrote nearly all the book. There are +the landscapes, Tarbes Auch, Nerac, the Landes, and a number of +recollections of the famous journey to the Pyrenees and of her stay +at Guillery with the Dudevant family. The Convent of the Augustines +in Paris, with its English nuns and its boarders belonging to the +best families, is the one in which Aurore spent three years. +The cloister can be recognized, the garden planted with chestnut +trees, and the cell from which there was a view over the city. +All her dreams seemed so near Heaven there, for the rich, +cloudy sky was so near--"that most beautiful and ever-changing sky, +perhaps the most beautiful in the world," of which we read in +_Rose et Blanche_. But together with this romance of religious +life is a libertine novel with stories of orgies, of a certain +private house, and of very risky and unpleasant episodes. This is +the collaborator's share in the work. The risky parts are Sandeau's. + +Such, then, is this hybrid composition. It was, in reality, +the monstrosity announced by George Sand. + +It had a certain success, but the person who was most severe +in her judgment of it was Sophie-Victoire, George Sand's mother, +who had very prudish tastes in literature. This woman is perfectly +delightful, and every time we come across her it is a fresh joy. +Her daughter was obliged to make some excuse for herself, and this +she did by stating that the work was not entirely her own. + +"I do not approve of a great deal of the nonsense," she writes, +"and I only let certain things pass to please my publisher, +who wanted something rather lively. . . . I do not like the risky +parts myself. . . ." Later on in the same letter, she adds: +"There is nothing of the kind in the book I am writing now, +and I am using nothing of my collaborator's in this, except his +name."[15] + + +[15] _Correspondance_: To her mother, February 22, 1832. + + +This was true. Jules Sand had had his day, and the book of which +she now speaks was _Indiana_. She signed this "George Sand." + +The unpublished correspondence with Emile Regnault, some fragments +of which we have just read, contains a most interesting +letter concerning the composition of _Indiana_. It is dated +February 28, 1832. George Sand first insists on the severity +of the subject and on its resemblance to life. "It is as simple, +as natural and as positive as you could wish," she says. +"It is neither romantic, mosaic, nor frantic. It is just ordinary +life of the most _bourgeois_ kind, but unfortunately this is much +more difficult than exaggerated literature. . . . There is +not the least word put in for nothing, not a single description, +not a vestige of poetry. There are no unexpected, extraordinary, +or amazing situations, but merely four volumes on four characters. +With only just these characters, that is, with hidden feelings, +everyday thoughts, with friendship, love, selfishness, devotion, +self-respect, persistency, melancholy, sorrow, ingratitude, +disappointment, hope, and all the mixed-up medley of the human mind, +is it possible to write four volumes which will not bore people? +I am afraid of boring people, of boring them as life itself does. +And yet what is more interesting than the history of the heart, +when it is a true history? The main thing is to write true history, +and it is just that which is so difficult. . . ." + +This declaration is rather surprising to any one who reads it +to-day. We might ask whether what was natural in 1832 would +be natural in 1910? That is not the question which concerns +us, though. The important fact to note is that George Sand +was no longer attempting to manufacture monstrosities. She was +endeavouring to be true, and she wanted above everything else +to present a character of woman who would be the typical modern woman. + +"Noemi (this name was afterwards left to Sandeau, who had used +it in _Marianna_. George Sand changed it to that of _Indiana_) +is a typical woman, strong and weak, tired even by the weight of +the air, but capable of holding up the sky; timid in everyday life, +but daring in days of battle; shrewd and clever in seizing the loose +threads of ordinary life, but silly and stupid in distinguishing her +own interests when it is a question of her happiness; caring little +for the world at large, but allowing herself to be duped by one man; +not troubling much about her own dignity, but watching over that +of the object of her choice; despising the vanities of the times +as far as she is concerned, but allowing herself to be fascinated +by the man who is full of these vanities. This, I believe," +she says, "is the usual woman, an extraordinary mixture of weakness +and energy, of grandeur and of littleness, a being ever composed +of two opposite natures, at times sublime and at times despicable, +clever in deceiving and easily deceived herself." + +This novel, intended to present to us the modern woman, ought to be +styled a "feminist novel." It was also, as regards other points +of view. _Indiana_ appeared in May, 1832, _Valentine_ in 1833, +and _Jacques_ in 1834. In these three books I should like to show +our present feminism, already armed, and introduced to us according +to George Sand's early ideas. + + +_Indiana_ is the story of a woman who had made an unfortunate marriage. +At the age of nineteen she had married Colonel Delmare. +Colonels were very much in vogue in those days, and the fact that he +had attained that rank proves that he was much older than she was. +Colonel Delmare was an honest, straightforward man in the Pharisaical +sense of the word. This simply means that he had never robbed +or killed any one. He had no delicacy and no charm, and, +fond as he was of his own authority, he was a domestic tyrant. +Indiana was very unhappy between this execrable husband and a cousin +of hers, Ralph, a man who is twice over English, in the first place +because his name is Brown, and then because he is phlegmatic. +Ralph is delightful and most excellent, and it is on his account +that she is insensible to the charms of Raymon de Ramieres +an elegant and distinguished young man who is a veritable lady-killer. + +Space forbids us to go into all the episodes of this story, but the +crisis is that Colonel Delmare is ruined, and his business affairs +call him to the Isle of Bourbon. He intends to take Indiana with him, +but she refuses to accompany him. She knows quite well that Raymon +will do all he can to prevent her going. She hurries away to him, +offers herself to him, and volunteers to remain with him always. +It is unnecessary to give Raymon's reply to this charming proposal. +Poor Indiana receives a very wet blanket on a cold winter's night. + + +She therefore starts for the Isle of Bourbon, and, some time +after her arrival there, she gets a letter from Raymon which makes +her think that he is very unhappy. She accordingly hastens +back to him, but is received by the young wife whom Raymon has +just married. It is a very brilliant marriage, and Raymon could +not have hoped for anything more satisfactory. Poor Indiana! +The Seine, however, is quite near, and she throws herself into it. +This was quite safe, as Ralph was there to fish her out again. +Ralph was always at hand to fish his cousin out of everything. +He is her appointed rescuer, her Newfoundland dog. In the country +or in the town, on _terra firma_ or on the boat which takes +Indiana to the Isle of Bourbon, we always see Ralph turn up, +phlegmatic as usual. Unnecessary to say that Ralph is in love +with Indiana. His apparent calmness is put on purposely. +It is the snowy covering under which a volcano is burning. +His awkward and unprepossessing appearance conceals an exquisite soul. +Ralph brings Indiana good news. Colonel Delmare is dead, +so that she is free. What will she do now with her liberty? +After due deliberation, Ralph and Indiana decide to commit suicide, +but they have to agree about the kind of death they will die. +Ralph considers that this is a matter of certain importance. +He does not care to kill himself in Paris; there are too many +people about, so that there is no tranquillity. The Isle of Bourbon +seems to him a pleasant place for a suicide. There was a magnificent +horizon there; then, too, there was a precipice and a waterfall. +. . . + +Ralph's happy ideas are somewhat sinister, but the couple +set out nevertheless for the Isle of Bourbon in search of a +propitious waterfall. A sea-voyage, under such circumstances, +would be an excellent preparation. When once there, they carry +out their plans, and Ralph gives his beloved wise advice at the +last moment. She must not jump from the side, as that would be bad. +"Throw yourself into the white line that the waterfall makes," +he says. "You will then reach the lake with that, and the torrent +will plunge you in." This sounds enticing. + +Such a suicide was considered infinitely poetical at that epoch, +and every one pitied Indiana in her troubles. It is curious to read +such books calmly a long time afterwards, books which reflect so +exactly the sentiments of a certain epoch. It is curious to note +how the point of view has changed, and how people and things appear +to us exactly the reverse of what they appeared to the author +and to contemporaries. + +As a matter of fact, the only interesting person in all this is +Colonel Delmare, or, at any rate, he is the only one of whom Indiana +could not complain. He loved her, and he loved no one else but her. +The like cannot be said for Indiana. Few husbands would imitate +his patience and forbearance, and he certainly allowed his wife +the most extraordinary freedom. At one time we find, a young man in +Indiana's bedroom, and at another time Indiana in a young man's bedroom. +Colonel Delmare receives Raymon at his house in a friendly way, +and he tolerates the presence of the sempiternal Ralph in his home. +What more can be asked of a husband than to allow his wife to +have a man friend and a cousin? Indiana declares that Colonel +Delmare has struck her, and that the mark is left on her face. +She exaggerated, though, as we know quite well what took place. +In reality all this was at Plessis-Picard. Delmare-Dudevant struck +Indiana-Aurore. This was certainly too much, but there was no blood shed. +As to the other personages, Raymon is a wretched little rascal, +who was first the lover of Indiana's maid. He next made love to poor +Noun's mistress, and then deserted her to make a rich marriage. +Ralph plunges Indiana down a precipice. That was certainly bad +treatment for the woman he loved. As regards Indiana, George Sand +honestly believed that she had given her all the charms imaginable. +As a matter of fact, she did charm the readers of that time. +It is from this model that we have one of the favourite types of woman +in literature for the next twenty years--the misunderstood woman. + +The misunderstood woman is pale, fragile, and subject to fainting. +Up to page 99 of the book, Indiana has fainted three times. I did not +continue counting. This fainting was not the result of bad health. +It was the fashion to faint. The days of nerves and languid airs +had come back. The women whose grandmothers had walked so firmly +to the scaffold, and whose mothers had listened bravely to the firing +of the cannon under the Empire, were now depressed and tearful, +like so many plaintive elegies. It was just a matter of fashion. +The mis- + +understood woman was supposed to be unhappy with her husband, but she +would not have been any happier with another man. Indiana does not +find fault with Colonel Delmare for being the husband that he is, +but simply for being the husband! + +"She did not love her husband, for the mere reason, perhaps, that she +was told it was her duty to love him and that it had become her +second nature, a principle and a law of her conscience to resist inwardly +all moral constraint." She affected a most irritating gentleness, +an exasperating submissiveness. When she put on her superior, +resigned airs, it was enough to unhinge an angel. Besides, what was +there to complain about, and why should she not accommodate herself +to conditions of existence with which so many others fall in? +She must not be compared to others, though. She is eminently +a distinguished woman, and she asks without shrinking: "Do you +know what it means to love a woman such as I am?" + +In her long silences and her persistent melancholy, she is no +doubt thinking of the love appropriate to a woman such as she is. +She was a princess in exile and times were then hard for princesses. +That is why the one in question took refuge in her homesick sorrow. +All this is what people will not understand. Instead of rising +to such sublimities, or of being lost in fogs, they judge from +mere facts. And on coming across a young wife who is inclined to +prefer a handsome, dark young man to a husband who is turning grey, +they are apt to conclude: "Well, this is not the first time we +have met with a similar case. It is hardly worth while making such +a fuss about a young plague of a woman who wants to go to the bad." +It would be very unjust, though, not to recognize that _Indiana_ +is a most remarkable novel. There is a certain relief in the +various characters, Colonel Delmare, Raymon, Ralph and Inaiana. +We ought to question the husbands who married wives belonging to the race +of misunderstood women brought into vogue by _Indiana_. + + +_Valentine_, too, is the story of a woman unhappily married. + +This time the chief _role_ is given to the lover, and not to the woman. +Instead of the misunderstood woman, though, we have the typical +frenzied lover, created by the romantic school. Louise-Valentine de +Raimbault is about to marry Norbert-Evariste de Lansac, when suddenly +this young person, who is accustomed to going about in the country +round and to the village fetes, falls in love with the nephew +of one of her farmers. The young man's name is Benedict, and he +is a peasant who has had some education. His mentality is probably +that of a present-day elementary school-teacher. Valentine cannot +resist him, although we are told that Benedict is not very handsome. +It is his soul which Valentine loves in him. Benedict knows very well +that he cannot marry Valentine, but he can cause her a great deal +of annoyance by way of proving his love. On the night of the wedding +he is in the nuptial chamber, from which the author has taken +care to banish the husband for the time being. Benedict watches +over the slumber of the woman he loves, and leaves her an epistle +in which he declares that, after hesitating whether he should kill +her husband, her, or himself, or whether he should kill all three, +or only select two of the three, and after adopting in turn each of +these combinations, he has decided to only kill himself. He is found +in a ditch in a terrible plight, but we are by no means rid of him. +Benedict is not dead, and he has a great deal of harm to do yet. +We shall meet with him again several times, always hidden behind curtains, +listening to all that is said and watching all that takes place. +At the right moment he comes out with his pistol in his hand. +The husband is away during all this time. No one troubles +about him, though. He is a bad husband, or rather he is--a husband, +and Benedict has nothing to fear as far as he is concerned. +But one day a peasant, who does not like the looks of Benedict, +attacks him with his pitchfork and puts an end to this valuable life. + +The question arises, by what right Benedict disturbs Valentine's +tranquillity. The answer is by the right of his passion for her. +He has an income of about twenty pounds a year. It would be impossible +for him to marry on that. What has he to offer to the woman whose peace +of mind he disturbs and whose position he ruins? He offers himself. +Surely that should be enough. Then, too, it is impossible to reason +with individuals of his temperament. We have only to look at him, +with his sickly pallor and the restless light in his eyes. We have +only to listen to the sound of his voice and his excited speeches. +At times he goes in for wild declamation, and immediately afterwards +for cold irony and sarcasm. He is always talking of death. +When he attempts to shoot himself he always misses, but when Adele +d'Hervey resists him, at the time he has taken the name of Antony, +he kills her. He is therefore a dangerous madman. + +We now have two fresh personages for novels, the misunderstood woman +and the frenzied lover. It is a pity they do not marry each other, +and so rid us of them. + +We must not lose sight, though, of the fact that, contestable as +_Valentine_ certainly is as a novel of passion, there is a pastoral +novel of the highest order contained in this book. The setting +of the story is delightful. George Sand has placed the scene +in that Black Valley which she knew so well and loved so dearly. +It is the first of her novels in which she celebrates her birthplace. +There are walks along the country pathways, long meditations at night, +village weddings and fetes. All the poetry and all the picturesqueness +of the country transform and embellish the story. + + +In _Jacques_ we have the history of a man unhappily married, and this, +through the reciprocity which is inevitable under the circumstances, +is another story of a woman unhappily married. + +At the age of thirty-five, after a stormy existence, in which years +count double, Jacques marries Fernande, a woman much younger +than he is. After a few unhappy months he sees the first clouds +appearing in his horizon. He sends for his sister Sylvia to come +and live with himself and his wife. Sylvia, like Jacques, +is an exceptional individual. She is proud, haughty and reserved. +It can readily be imagined that, the presence of this pythoness +does not tend to restore the confidence which has become somewhat +shaken between the husband and wife. A young man named Octave, +who was at first attracted by Sylvia, soon begins to prefer Fernande, +who is not a romantic, ironical and sarcastic woman like her +sister-in-law. He fancies that he should be very happy with the +gentle Fernande. Jacques discovers that Octave and his wife are +in love with each other. There are various alternatives for him. +He can dismiss his rival, kill him, or merely pardon him. +Each alternative is a very ordinary way out of the difficulty, +and Jacques cannot resign himself to anything ordinary. He therefore +asks his wife's lover whether he really cares for his wife, whether he +is in earnest, and also whether this attachment will be durable. +Quite satisfied with the result of this examination, he leaves +Fernande to Octave. He then disappears and kills himself, but he +takes all necessary precautions to avert the suspicion of suicide, +in order not to sadden Octave and Fernande in their happiness. +He had not been able to keep his wife's love, but he does not wish +to be the jailer of the woman who no longer loves him. Fernande has +a right to happiness and, as he has not been able to ensure +that happiness, he must give place to another man. It is a case +of suicide as a duty. There are instances when a husband should know +that it is his duty to disappear. . . . Jacques is "a stoic." +George Sand has a great admiration for such characters. She gives +us her first sketch of one in Ralph, but Jacques is presented to us +as a sublime being. + +Personally, I look upon him as a mere greenhorn, or, as would +be said in Wagner's dramas, a "pure simpleton." + +He did everything to ruin his home life. His young wife +had confidence in him; she was gay and naive. He went about, +folding his arms in a tragic way. He was absent-minded and gloomy, +and she began to be awed by him. One day, when, in her sorrow +for having displeased him, she flung herself on her knees, sobbing, +instead of lifting her up tenderly, he broke away from her caresses, +telling her furiously to get up and never to behave in such a way again +in his presence. After this he puts his sister, the "bronze woman," +between them, and he invites Octave to live with them. When he has +thus destroyed his wife's affection for him, in spite of the fact +that at one time she wished for nothing better than to love him, +he goes away and gives up the whole thing. All that is too easy. +One of Meilhac's heroines says to a man, who declares that he is +going to drown himself for her sake, "Oh yes, that is all very fine. +You would be tranquil at the bottom of the water! But what about +me? . . ." + +In this instance Jacques is tranquil at the bottom of his precipice, +but Fernande is alive and not at all tranquil. Jacques never +rises to the very simple conception of his duty, which was that, +having made a woman the companion of his life's journey, he had no +right to desert her on the way. + +Rather than blame himself, though, Jacques prefers incriminating +the institution of marriage. The criticism of this institution +is very plain in the novel we are considering. In her former +novels George, Sand treated all this in a more or less vague way. +She now states her theory clearly. Jacques considers that marriage +is a barbarous institution. "I have not changed my opinion," +he says, "and I am not reconciled to society. I consider +marriage one of the most barbarous institutions ever invented. +I have no doubt that it will be abolished when the human species +makes progress in the direction of justice and reason. Some bond +that will be more human and just as sacred will take the place +of marriage and provide for the children born of a woman and a man, +without fettering their liberty for ever. Men are too coarse +at present, and women too cowardly, to ask for a nobler law than +the iron one which governs them. For individuals without conscience +and without virtue, heavy chains are necessary." + +We also hear Sylvia's ideas and the plans she proposes to her +brother for the time when marriage is abolished. + +"We will adopt an orphan, imagine that it is our child, and bring +it up in our principles. We could educate a child of each sex, +and then marry them when the time came, before God, with no other +temple than the desert and no priest but love. We should have formed +their souls to respect truth and justice, so that, thanks to us, +there would be one pure and happy couple on the face of the earth." + +The suppression of marriage, then, was the idea, and, in a future +more or less distant, free love! + +It is interesting to discover by what series of deductions George +Sand proceeds and on what principles she bases everything. +When once her principles are admitted, the conclusion she draws +from them is quite logical. + +What is her essential objection to marriage? The fact that marriage +fetters the liberty of two beings. "Society dictates to you +the formula of an oath. You must swear that you will be faithful +and obedient to me, that you will never love any one but me, +and that you will obey me in everything. One of those oaths is +absurd and the other vile. You cannot be answerable for your heart, +even if I were the greatest and most perfect of men." Now comes +the question of love for another man. Until then it was considered +that such love was a weakness, and that it might become a fault. +But, after all, is not passion a fatal and irresistible thing? + +"No human creature can command love, and no one is to be blamed for +feeling it or for ceasing to feel it. What lowers a woman is untruth." +A little farther on we are told: "They are not guilty, for they +love each other. There is no crime where there is sincere love." +According to this theory, the union of man and woman depends on +love alone. When love disappears, the union cannot continue. +Marriage is a human institution, but passion is of Divine essence. +In case of any dissension, it is always the institution of marriage +which is to be blamed. + +The sole end in view of marriage is charm, either that of sentiment +or that of the senses, and its sole object is the exchange +of two fancies. As the oath of fidelity is either a stupidity +or a degradation, can anything more opposed to common sense, +and a more absolute ignorance of all that is noble and great, +be imagined than the effort mankind is making, against all the +chances of destruction by which he is surrounded, to affirm, +in face of all that changes, his will and intention to continue? +We all remember the heart-rending lamentation of Diderot: +"The first promises made between two creatures of flesh," +he says, "were made at the foot of a rock crumbling to dust. +They called on Heaven to be a witness of their constancy, but the +skies in the Heaven above them were never the same for an instant. +Everything was changing, both within them and around them, and they +believed that their heart would know no change. Oh, what children, +what children always!" Ah, not children, but what men rather! We know +these fluctuations in our affections. And it is because we are afraid +of our own fragility that we call to our aid the protection of laws, +to which submission is no slavery, as it is voluntary submission. +Nature does not know these laws, but it is by them that we +distinguish ourselves from Nature and that we rise above it. +The rock on which we tread crumbles to dust, the sky above our heads +is never the same an instant, but, in the depth of our hearts, +there is the moral law--and that never changes! + +In order to reply to these paradoxes, where shall we go in search +of our arguments? We can go to George Sand herself. A few +years later, during her intercourse with Lamennals, she wrote her +famous _Lettres a Marcie_ for _Le Monde_. She addresses herself +to an imaginary correspondent, to a woman supposed to be suffering +from that agitation and impatience which she had experienced herself. + +"You are sad," says George Sand to her, "you are suffering, +and you are bored to death." We will now take note of some +of the advice she gives to this woman. She no longer believes +that it belongs to human dignity to have the liberty of changing. +"The one thing to which man aspires, the thing which makes him great, +is permanence in the moral state. All which tends to give stability +to our desires, to strengthen the human will and affections, +tends to bring about the _reign of God_ on earth, which means love +and the practice of truth." She then speaks of vain dreams. +"Should we even have time to think about the impossible if we did +all that is necessary? Should we despair ourselves if we were to +restore hope in those people who have nothing left them but hope?" +With regard to feminist claims, she says: "Women are crying out +that they are slaves: let them wait until men are free! . . . +In the mean time we must not compromise the future by our impatience +with the present. . . . It is to be feared that vain attempts +of this kind and unjustifiable claims may do harm to what is styled +at present the cause of women. There is no doubt that women +have certain rights and that they are suffering injustice. +They ought to lay claim to a better future, to a wise independence, +to a greater participation in knowledge, and to more respect, +interest and esteem from men. This future, though, is in their +own hands." + +This is wisdom itself. It would be impossible to put it more clearly, and +to warn women in a better way, that the greatest danger for their cause +would be the triumph of what is called by an ironical term--feminism. + +These retractions, though, have very little effect. There is a +certain piquancy in showing up an author who is in contradiction +with himself, in showing how he refutes his own paradoxes. +But these are striking paradoxes which are not readily forgotten. +What I want to show is that in these first novels by George Sand we +have about the whole of the feminist programme of to-day. Everything +is there, the right to happiness, the necessity of reforming marriage, +the institution, in a more or less near future, of free unions. +Our feminists of to-day, French, English, or Norwegian authoresses, +and theoricians like Ellen Key, with her book on _Love and Marriage_, +all these rebels have invented nothing. They have done nothing +but take up once more the theories of the great feminist of 1832, +and expose them with less lyricism but with more cynicism. + +George Sand protested against the accusation of having aimed at attacking +institutions in her feminist novels. She was wrong in protesting, +as it is just this which gives her novels their value and significance. +It is this which dates them and which explains the enormous force of +expansion that they have had. They came just after the July Revolution, +and we must certainly consider them as one of the results of that. +A throne had just been overturned, and, by way of pastime, +churches were being pillaged and an archbishop's palace had been sack- + +aged. Literature was also attempting an insurrection, by way +of diversion. For a long time it had been feeding the revolutionary +ferment which it had received from romanticism. Romanticism had +demanded the freedom of the individual, and the writers at the head +of this movement were Chateaubriand, Victor Hugo and Dumas. +They claimed this freedom for Rene, for Hermann and for Antony, +who were men. An example had been given, and women meant to take +advantage of it. Women now began their revolution. + +Under all these influences, and in the particular atmosphere +now created, the matrimonial mishap of Baronne Dudevant appeared +to her of considerable importance. She exaggerated and magnified +it until it became of social value. Taking this private mishap as +her basis, she puts into each of her heroines something of herself. +This explains the passionate tone of the whole story. And this +passion could not fail to be contagious for the women who read +her stories, and who recognized in the novelist's cause their own +cause and the cause of all women. + +This, then, is the novelty in George Sand's way of presenting +feminist grievances. She had not invented these grievances. +They were already contained in Madame de Stael's books, and I have not +forgotten her. Delphine and Corinne, though, were women of genius, +and presented to us as such. In order to be pitied by Madame +de Stael, it was absolutely necessary to be a woman of genius. +For a woman to be defended by George Sand, it was only necessary +that she should not love her husband, and this was a much more +general thing. + + +George Sand had brought feminism within the reach of all women. +This is the characteristic of these novels, the eloquence of which +cannot be denied. They are novels for the vulgarization of the +feminist theory. + + + +THE ROMANTIC ESCAPADE + +THE VENICE ADVENTURE + + +George Sand did not have to wait long for success. She won fame +with her first book. With her second one she became rich, or what +she considered rich. She tells us that she sold it for a hundred +and sixty pounds! That seemed to her the wealth of the world, +and she did not hesitate to leave her attic on the Quay St. Michel +for a more comfortable flat on Quay Malaquais, which de Latouche +gave up to her. + +There was, at that time, a personage in Paris who had begun to exercise +a sort of royal tyranny over authors. Francois Buloz had taken advantage +of the intellectual effervescence of 1831 to found the _Revue des +Deux Mondes_. He was venturesome, energetic, original, very shrewd, +though apparently rough, obliging, in spite of his surly manners. +He is still considered the typical and traditional review manager. +He certainly possessed the first quality necessary for this function. +He discovered talented writers, and he also knew how to draw from +them and squeeze out of them all the literature they contained. +Tremendously headstrong, he has been known to keep a contributor under +lock and key until his article was finished. Authors abused him, +quarrelled with him, and then came back to him again. A review +which had, for its first numbers, George Sand, Vigny, Musset, Merimee, +among many others, as contributors, may be said to have started well. +George Sand tells us that after a battle with the _Revue de Paris_ +and the _Revue des Deux Mondes_, both of which papers wanted her work, +she bound herself to the _Revue des Deux Mondes_, which was to pay +her a hundred and sixty pounds a year for thirty-two pages of writing +every six weeks. In 1833 the _Revue des Deux Mondes_ published Lelia, +and on January 1, 1876, it finished publishing the _Tour de Percemont_. +This means an uninterrupted collaboration, extending over a period +of forty-three years. + +The literary critic of the _Revue des Deux Mondes_ at that time was a man +who was very much respected and very little liked, or, in other words, +he was universally detested. This critic was Gustave Planche. +He took his own _role_ too seriously, and endeavoured to put authors +on their guard about their faults. Authors did not appreciate this. +He endeavoured, too, to put the public on guard against its +own infatuations. The public did not care for this. He sowed +strife and reaped revenge. This did not stop him, though, for he +went calmly on continuing his executions. His impassibility +was only feigned, and this is the curious side of the story. +He suffered keenly from the storms of hostility which he provoked. +He had a kindly disposition at bottom and tender places in his heart. +He was rather given to melancholy and intensely pessimistic. +To relieve his sadness, he gave himself up to hard work, and he +was thoroughly devoted to art. In order to comprehend this portrait +and to see its resemblance, we, who knew our great Brunetiere, +have only to think of him. He, too, was noble, fervent and combative, +and he sought in his exclusive devotion to literature a diversion from +his gloomy pessimism, underneath which was concealed such kindliness. +It seemed with him, too, as though he took a pride in making a whole +crowd of enemies, whilst in reality the discovery of every fresh +adversary caused him great suffering. + +When _Lelia_ appeared, the novel was very badly treated in +_L'Europe litteraire_. Planche challenged the writer of the article, +a certain Capo de Feuillide, to a duel. So much for the impassibility +of severe critics. The duel took place, and afterwards there +was a misunderstanding between George Sand and Planche. From that +time forth critics have given up fighting duels for the sake of authors. + +About the same time, George Sand made use of Sainte-Beuve as +her confessor. He seemed specially indicated for this function. +In the first place, he looked rather ecclesiastical, and then he had +a taste for secrets, and more particularly for whispered confessions. +George Sand had absolute confidence in him. She considered that he +had an almost angelic nature. In reality, just about that time, +the angelic man was endeavouring to get into the good graces of the +wife of his best friend, and was writing his _Livre d'Amour_, and +divulging to the world a weakness of which he had taken advantage. +This certainly was the most villainous thing a man could do. +But then he, too, was in love and was struggling and praying. +George Sand declares her veneration for him, and she constituted herself +his penitent. + +She begins her confession by an avowal that must have been +difficult for her. She tells of her intimacy with Merimee, +an intimacy which was of short duration and very unsatisfactory. +She had been fascinated by Merimee's art. + +"For about a week," she says, "I thought he had the secret +of happiness." At the end of the week she was "weeping with disgust, +suffering and discouragement." She had hoped to find in him +the devotion of a consoler, but she found nothing but cold +and bitter jesting."[16] This experiment had also proved a failure. + + +[16] Compare _Lettres a Sainte-Beuve_. + + +Such were the conditions in which George Sand found herself at +this epoch. Her position was satisfactory; she might have been calm +and independent. Her inner life was once more desolate, and she +was thoroughly discouraged. She felt that she had lived centuries, +that she had undergone torture, that her heart had aged twenty years, +and that nothing was any pleasure to her now. Added to all this, +public life saddened her, for the horizon had clouded over. +The boundless hopes and the enthusiasm of 1831 were things +of the past. "The Republic, as it was dreamed of in July," +she writes, "has ended in the massacres of Warsaw and in the holocaust +of the Saint-Merry cloister. The cholera has just been raging. +Saint Simonism has fallen through before it had settled the great +question of love."[17] + + +[17] _Histoire de ma vie_. + + +Depression had come after over-excitement. This is a phenomenon +frequently seen immediately after political convulsions. +It might be called the perpetual failure of revolutionary promises. + +It was under all these influences that George Sand wrote _Lelia_. +She finished it in July, and it appeared in August, 1833. + +It is absolutely impossible to give an analysis of _Lelia_. There really +is no subject. The personages are not beings of flesh and blood. +They are allegories strolling about in the garden of abstractions. +Lelia is a woman who has had her trials in life. She has loved and +been disappointed, so that she can no longer love at all. She reduces +the gentle poet Stenio to despair. He is much younger than she is, +and he has faith in life and in love. His ingenuous soul begins +to wither and to lose its freshness, thanks to the scepticism of +the beautiful, disdainful, ironical and world-weary Lelia. This strange +person has a sister Pulcherie, a celebrated courtesan, whose insolent +sensuality is a set-off to the other one's mournful complaints. +We have here the opposition of Intelligence and of the Flesh, +of Mind and Matter. Then comes Magnus, the priest, who has lost +his faith, and for whom Lelia is a temptation, and after him we +have Trenmor, Lelia's great friend, Trenmor, the sublime convict. +As a young man he had been handsome. He had loved and been young. +He had known what it was to be only twenty years of age. +"The only thing was, he had known this at the age of sixteen" +(!!) He had then become a gambler, and here follows an extraordinary +panegyric on the fatal passion for gambling. Trenmor ruins himself, +borrows without paying back, and finally swindles "an old millionaire +who was himself a defrauder and a dissipated man" out of a +hundred francs. Apparently the bad conduct of the man Trenmor robs, +excuses the swindling. He is condemned to five years of hard labour. +He undergoes his punishment, and is thereby regenerated. +"What if I were to tell you," writes George Sand, "that such as he +now is, crushed, with a tarnished reputation, ruined, I consider +him superior to all of us, as regards the moral life. As he +had deserved punishment, he was willing to bear it. He bore it, +living for five years bravely and patiently among his abject companions. +He has come back to us out of that abominable sewer holding his +head up, calm, purified, pale as you see him, but handsome still, +like a creature sent by God." + +We all know how dear convicts are to the hearts of romantic people. +There is no need for me to remind you how they have come to us recently, +encircled with halos of suffering and of purity. We all remember +Dostoiewsky's _Crime and Punishment_ and Tolstoi's _Resurrection_. +When the virtue of expiation and the religion of human suffering came +to us from Russia, we should have greeted them as old acquaintances, +if certain essential works in our own literature, of which these books +are the issue, had not been unknown to us. + +The last part of the novel is devoted to Stenio. Hurt by Lelia's +disdain, which has thrown him into the arms of her sister Pulcherie, +he gives himself up to debauch. We find him at a veritable orgy +in Pulcherie's house. Later on he is in a monastery at Camaldules, +talking to Trenmor and Magnus. In such books we must never +be astonished. . . . There is a long speech by Stenio, addressed to +Don Juan, whom he regrets to have taken as his model. The poor young +man of course commits suicide. He chooses drowning as the author +evidently prefers that mode of suicide. Lelia arrives in time to +kneel down by the corpse of the young man who has been her victim. +Magnus then appears on the scene, exactly at the right moment, +to strangle Lelia. Pious hands prepare Lelia and Stenio for +their burial. They are united and yet separated up to their very death. + +The summing up we have given is the original version of _Lelia_. +In 1836, George Sand touched up this work, altering much of it +and spoiling, what she altered. It is a pity that her new version, +which is longer, heavier and more obscure, should have taken +the place of the former one. In its first form _Lelia_ is a work +of rare beauty, but with the beauty of a poem or an oratorio. +It is made of the stuff of which dreams are composed. It is a series +of reveries, adapted to the soul of 1830. At every different epoch +there is a certain frame of mind, and certain ideas are diffused in +the air which we find alike in the works of the writers of that time, +although they did not borrow them from each other. _Lelia_ is +a sort of summing up of the themes then in vogue in the personal +novel and in lyrical poetry. The theme of that suffering which is +beneficent and inspiring is contained in the following words: +"Come back to me, Sorrow! Why have you left me? It is by grief +alone that man is great." This is worthy of Chateaubriand. +The theme of melancholy is as follows: "The moon appeared. . . . +What is the moon, and what is its nocturnal magic to me? One hour +more or less is nothing to me." This might very well be Lamartine. +We then have the malediction pronounced in face of impassible Nature: +"Yes, I detested that radiant and magnificent Nature, for it was +there before me in all its stupid beauty, silent and proud, for us +to gaze on, believing that it was enough to merely show itself." +This reminds us of Vigny in his _Maison du berger_. Then we have +the religion of love: "Doubt God, doubt men, doubt me if you like, +but do not doubt love." This is Musset. + +But the theme which predominates, and, as we have compared all this +to music, we might say the _leit-motiv_ of all, is that of desolation, +of universal despair, of the woe of life. It is the same lamentation +which, ever since Werther, was to be heard throughout all literature. +It is the identical suffering which Rene, Obermann and Lara had been +repeating to all the echoes. The elements of it were the same: +pride which prevents us from adapting ourselves to the conditions +of universal life, an abuse of self-analysis which opens up +our wounds again and makes them bleed, the wild imagination +which presents to our eyes the deceptive mirage of Promised Lands +from which we are ever exiles. Lelia personifies, in her turn, +the "_mal du siecle_." Stenio reproaches her with only singing +grief and doubt. "How many, times," he says, "have you appeared +to me as typical of the indescribable suffering in which mankind is +plunged by the spirit of inquiry! With your beauty and your sadness, +your world-weariness and your scepticism, do you not personify the +excess of grief produced by the abuse of thought?" He then adds: +"There is a great deal of pride in this grief, Lelia!" It was +undoubtedly a malady, for Lelia had no reason to complain of life +any more than her brothers in despair. It is simply that the general +conditions of life which all people have to accept seem painful +to them. When we are well the play of our muscles is a joy to us, +but when we are ill we feel the very weight of the atmosphere, +and our eyes are hurt by the pleasant daylight. + +When _Lelia_ appeared George Sand's old friends were stupefied. +"What, in Heaven's name, is this?" wrote Jules Neraud, +the _Malgache._ "Where have you been in search of this? +Why have you written such a book? Where has it sprung from, +and what is it for? . . . This woman is a fantastical creature. +She is not at all like you. You are lively and can dance a jig; +you can appreciate butterflies and you do not despise puns. +You sew and can make jam very well."[18] + + +[18] _Histoire de ma vie_. + + +It certainly was not her portrait. She was healthy and believed +in life, in the goodness of things and in the future of humanity, +just as Victor Hugo and Dumas _pere_, those other forces of Nature, +did, at about the same time. A soul foreign to her own had entered +into her, and it was the romantic soul. With the magnificent power +of receptivity which she possessed, George Sand welcomed all the +winds which came to her from the four quarters of romanticism. +She sent them back with unheard-of fulness, sonorous depth and wealth +of orchestration. From that time forth a woman's voice could be heard, +added to all the masculine voices which railed against life, +and the woman's voice dominated them all! + +In George Sand's psychological evolution, _Lelia_ is just this: +the beginning of the invasion of her soul by romanticism. It was +a borrowed individuality, undoubtedly, but it was not something +to be put on and off at will like a mask. It adhered to the skin. +It was all very fine for George Sand to say to Sainte-Beuve: "Do +not confuse the man himself with the suffering. . . . And do not +believe in all my satanical airs. . . . This is simply a style +that I have taken on, I assure you. . . ." + +Sainte-Beuve had every reason to be alarmed, and the confessor was +quite right in his surmises. The crisis of romanticism had commenced. +It was to take an acute form and to reach its paroxysm during the +Venice escapade. It is from this point of view that we will study the +famous episode, which has already been studied by so many other writers. + + +No subject, perhaps, has excited the curiosity of readers like this one, +and always without satisfying that curiosity. A library could be +formed of the books devoted to this subject, written within the last +ten years. Monsieur Rocheblave, Monsieur Maurice Clouard, Dr. Cabanes, +Monsieur Marieton, the enthusiastic collector, Spoelberch de Lovenjoul +and Monsieur Decori have all given us their contributions to the +debate.[19] Thanks to them, we have the complete correspondence +of George Sand and Musset, the diary of George Sand and Pagello's diary. + + +[19] Consult: Rocheblave, _La fin dune Legende;_ Maurice Clouard, +_Documents inedits sur A. de Musset;_ Dr. Cabanes, _Musset et +le Dr. Pagello_; Paul Marieton, _Une histoire d'amour;_ Vicomte +Spoelberch de Lovenjoul, _La vrai histoire d'Elle et Lui;_ Decori, +_Lettres de George Sand et Musset._ + + +With the aid of all these documents Monsieur Charles Maurras has +written a book entitled _Les Amants de Venise_. It is the work +of a psychologist and of an artist. The only fault I have to find +with it is that the author of it seems to see calculation and +artifice everywhere, and not to believe sufficiently in sincerity. +We must not forget, either, that as early as the year 1893, all that is +essential had been told us by that shrewd writer and admirable woman, +Arvede Barine. The chapter which she devotes to the Venice episode, +in her biography of Alfred de Musset, is more clear and simple, +and at the same time deeper than anything that had yet been written. + +It is a subject that has been given up to the curiosity of people and +to their disputes. The strange part is the zeal which at once animates +every one who takes part in this controversy. The very atmosphere +seems to be impregnated with strife, and those interested become, +at once, the partisans of George Sand or the partisans of Musset. +The two parties only agree on one point, and that is, to throw all +the blame on the client favoured by their adversary. I must confess +that I cannot take a passionate interest in a discussion, the subject +of which we cannot properly judge. According to _Mussetistes_, +it was thanks to George Sand that the young poet was reduced to the +despair which drove him to debauchery. On the other hand, if we +are to believe the _Sandistes_, George Sand's one idea in interesting +herself in Musset was to rescue him from debauchery and convert +him to a better life. I listen to all suchpious interpretations, +but I prefer others for myself. I prefer seeing the physiognomy +of each of the two lovers standing out, as it does, in powerful relief. + +It is the custom, too, to pity these two unfortunates, who suffered +so much. At the risk of being taken for a very heartless man, +I must own that I do not pity them much. The two lovers wished +for this suffering, they wanted to experience the incomparable +sensations of it, and they got enjoyment and profit from this. +They knew that they were working for posterity. "Posterity will +repeat our names like those of the immortal lovers whose two names +are only one at present, like Romeo and Juliette, like Heloise +and Abelard. People will never speak of one of us without speaking +of the other." + +Juliette died at the age of fifteen and Heloise entered a convent. +The Venice lovers did not have to pay for their celebrity as dearly +as that. They wanted to give an example, to light a torch on the road +of humanity. "People shall know my story," writes George Sand. +"I will write it. . . . Those who follow along the path I trod will +see where it leads." _Et nunc erudimini_. Let us see for ourselves, +and learn. + +Their_ liaison_ dates from August, 1833. + +George Sand was twenty-nine years of age. It was the time of +her greatest charm. We must try to imagine the enchantress as +she then was. She was not tall and she was delightfully slender, +with an extraordinary-looking face of dark, warm colouring. +Her thick hair was very dark, and her eyes, her large eyes, +haunted Musset for years after. + + "_Ote-moi, memoire importune_, + _Ote-moi ces yeux que je vois toujours!_" +he writes. + + +And this woman, who could have been loved passionately, merely for +her charm as a woman, was a celebrity! She was a woman of genius! +Alfred de Musset was twenty-three years old. He was elegant, witty, +a flirt, and when he liked he could be irresistible. He had won his +reputation by that explosion of gaiety and imagination, _Les Contes +d'Espagne el d'Italle_. He had written some fine poetry, dreamy, +disturbing and daring. He had also given _Les Caprices de Marianne_, +in which he figures twice over himself, for he was both Octave +the sceptic, the disillusioned man, and Coelio, the affectionate, +candid Coelio. He imagined himself Rolla. It was he, and he alone, +who should have been styled the sublime boy. + +And so here they both are. We might call them Lelia and Stenio, +but _Lelia_ was written before the Venice adventure. She was not the +reflection of it, but rather the presentiment. This is worthy of notice, +but not at all surprising. Literature sometimes imitates reality, +but how much more often reality is modelled on literature! + +It was as though George Sand had foreseen her destiny, for she had +feared to meet Musset. On the 11th of March, she writes as follows +to Sainte-Beuve: "On second thoughts, I do not want you to bring Alfred +de Musset. He is a great dandy. We should not suit each other, +and I was really more curious to see him than interested in him." +A little later on, though, at a dinner at the _Freres provencaux_, +to which Buloz invited his collaborators, George Sand found herself +next Alfred de Musset. She invited him to call on her, and when _Lelia_ +was published she sent him a copy, with the following dedication +written in the first volume: _A Monsieur mon gamin d'Allred_; +and in the second volume: _A Monsieur le vicomte Allred de Musset, +hommage respectueux de son devoue serviteur George Sand_. +Musset replied by giving his opinion of the new book. Among the +letters which followed, there is one that begins with these words: +"My dear George, I have something silly and ridiculous to tell you. +I am foolishly writing, instead of telling you, as I ought +to have done, after our walk. I am heartbroken to-night that I +did not tell you. You will laugh at me, and you will take me +for a man who simply talks nonsense. You will show me the door, +and fancy that I am not speaking the truth. . . . I am in love +with you. . . ." + +She did not laugh at him, though, and she did not show him the door. +Things did not drag on long, evidently, as she writes to her confessor, +Sainte-Beuve, on the 25th of August: "I have fallen in love, +and very seriously this time, with Alfred de Musset." How long was +this to last? She had no idea, but for the time being she declared +that she was absolutely happy. + +"I have found a candour, a loyalty and an affection which delight me. +It is the love of a young man and the friendship of a comrade." +There was a honeymoon in the little flat looking on the Quay Malaquals. +Their friends shared the joy of the happy couple, as we see by Musset's +frolicsome lines + + _George est dans sa chambrette, + Entre deux pots de fleurs, + Fumiant sa cigarette, + Les yeux baignes de pleurs. + + Buloz assis par terre + Lui fait de doux serments, + Solange par derriere + Gribouille ses romans._ + + _Plante commme une borne_, + _Boucoiran tout crott_, + _Contemple d'un oeil morne_ + _Musset tout debraille, etc._ + + +It is evident that, as poetry, this does not equal the _Nuits._ + +In the autumn they went for a honeymoon trip to Fontainebleau. +It was there that the strange scene took place which is mentioned +in _Elle et Lui_. One evening when they were in the forest, Musset had +an extraordinary hallucination, which he has himself described: + + _Dans tin bois, sur une bruyere, + Au pied d'un arbre vint s'asseoir + Un jeune homme vetu de noir + Qui me ressemnblail comme un frere. + + le lui demandais mon chemin, + Il tenait un luth d'ue main, + De l'autre un bouquet d'eglantine. + Il me fit tin salut d'ami + Et, se detournant a demu, + Me montra du doigt la colline._ + + +He really saw this "double," dressed in black, which was to visit +him again later on. His _Nuit de decembre_ was written from it. + +They now wanted to see Italy together. Musset had already written +on Venice; he now wanted to go there. Madame de Musset objected to this, +but George Sand promised so sincerely that she would be a mother +to the young man that finally his own mother gave her consent. +On the evening of December 12, 1833, Paul de Musset accompanied +the two travellers to the mail-coach. On the boat from Lyons +to Avignon they met with a big, intel- + +ligent-looking man. This was Beyle-Stendhal, who was then Consul +at Civita-Vecchia. He was on his way to his post. They enjoyed +his lively conversation, although he made fun of their illusions +about Italy and the Italian character. He made fun, though, +of everything and of every one, and they felt that he was only being +witty and trying to appear unkind. At dinner he drank too much, +and finished by dancing round the table in his great fur- + +lined boots. Later on he gave them some specimens of his +obscene conversation, so that they were glad to continue +their journey without him. + +On the 28th the travellers reached Florence. The aspect of this +city and his researches in the _Chroniques florentines_ supplied +the poet with the subject for _Lorenzaccio_. It appears that +George Sand and Musset each treated this subject, and that a +_Lorenzaccio_ by George Sand exists. I have not read it, but I +prefer Musset's version. They reached Venice on January 19, 1834, +and put up at the Hotel Danieli. By this time they were at loggerheads. + +The cause of their quarrel and disagreement is not really known, +and the activity of retrospective journalists has not succeeded +in finding this out. George Sand's letters only give details +about their final quarrel. On arriving, George Sand was ill, +and this exasperated Musset. He was annoyed, and declared that +a woman out of sorts was very trying. There are good reasons +for believing that he had found her very trying for some time. +He was very elegant and she a learned "white blackbird." +He was capricious and she a placid, steady _bourgeois_ woman, +very hard-working and very regular in the midst of her irregularity. +He used to call her "personified boredom, the dreamer, the silly woman, +the nun," when he did not use terms which we cannot transcribe. +The climax was when he said to her: "I was mistaken, George, and I beg +your pardon, for I do not love you." + +Wounded and offended, she replied: "We do not love each other +any longer, and we never really loved each other." + +They therefore took back their independence. This is a point to note, +as George Sand considered this fact of the greatest importance, +and she constantly refers to it. She was from henceforth free, +as regarded her companion. + +Illness kept them now at Venice. George Sand's illness first and then +Musset's alarming malady. He had high fever, accompanied by chest +affection and attacks of delirium which lasted six consecutive hours, +during which it took four men to hold him. + + +George Sand was an admirable nurse. This must certainly +be acknowledged. She sat up with him at night and she nursed +him by day, and, astonishing woman that she was, she was also +able to work and to earn enough to pay their common expenses. +This is well known, but I am able to give another proof of it, +in the letters which George Sand wrote from Venice to Buloz. +These letters have been communicated to me by Madame Pailleron, +_nee_ Buloz, and by Madame Landouzy, _veuve_ Buloz, whom I thank for the +public and for myself. The following are a few of the essential passages: + + "February 4. + _Read this when you are alone._ + + +MY DEAR BULOZ,--Your reproaches reach me at a miserable moment. If you +have received my letter, you already know that I do not deserve them. +A fortnight ago I was well again and working. Alfred was working too, +although he was not very well and had fits of feverishness. +About five days ago we were both taken ill, almost at the same time. +I had an attack of dysentery, which caused me horrible suffering. +I have not yet recovered from it, but I am strong enough, anyhow, +to nurse him. He was seized with a nervous and inflammatory fever, +which has made such rapid progress that the doctor tells me he does +not know what to think about it. We must wait for the thirteenth +or fourteenth day before knowing whether his life is in danger. +And what will this thirteenth or fourteenth day be? Perhaps his +last one? I am in despair, overwhelmed with fatigue, suffering horribly, +and awaiting who knows what future? How can I give myself up +to literature or to anything in the world at such a time? I only +know that our entire fortune, at present, consists of sixty francs, +that we shall have to spend an enormous amount at the chemist's, +for the nurse and doctor, and that we are at a very expensive hotel. +We were just about to leave it and go to a private house. +Alfred cannot be moved now, and even if everything should go well, +he probably cannot be moved for a month. We shall have to pay one +term's rent for nothing, and we shall return to France, please God. +If my ill-luck continues, and if Alfred should die, I can assure +you that I do not care what happens after to me. If God allows +Alfred to recover, I do not know how we shall pay the expenses of his +illness and of his return to France. The thousand francs that you +are to send me will not suffice, and I do not know what we shall do. +At any rate, do not delay sending that, as, by the time it arrives, +it will be more than necessary. I am sorry about the annoyance you +are having with the delay for publishing, but you can now judge +whether it is my fault. If only Alfred had a few quiet days, +I could soon finish my work. But he is in a frightful state +of delirium and restlessness. I cannot leave him an instant. +I have been nine hours writing this letter. Adieu, my friend, +and pity me. + +"GEORGE. + + +"Above everything, do not tell any one, not any one in the world, +that Alfred is ill. If his mother heard (and it only needs two +persons for telling a secret to all Paris) she would go mad. +If she has to be told, let who will undertake to tell her, but if +in a fortnight Alfred is out of danger, it is useless for her to +grieve now. Adieu." + + +"February 13, 1834. + +"My friend, Alfred is saved. There has been +no fresh attack, and we have nearly reached the fourteenth day +without the improvement having altered. After the brain affection +inflammation of the lungs declared itself, and this rather alarmed +us for two days. . . . He is extremely weak at present, +and he wanders occasionally. He has to be nursed night and day. +Do not imagine, therefore, that I am only making pretexts for the +delay in my work. I have not undressed for eight nights. I sleep +on a sofa, and have to get up at any minute. In spite of this, +ever since I have been relieved in my mind about the danger, +I have been able to write a few pages in the mornings while he +is resting. You may be sure tht I should like to be able to take +advantage of this time to rest myself. Be assured, my friend, +that I am not short of courage, nor yet of the will to work. +You are not more anxious than I am that I should carry out +my engagements. You know that a debt makes me smart like a wound. +But you are friend enough to make allowances for my situation and +not to leave me in difficulties. I am spending very wretched days +here at this bedside, for the slightest sound, the slightest movement +causes me constant terror. In this disposition of mind I shall +not write any light works. They will be heavy, on the contrary, +like my fatigue and my sadness. + +"Do not leave me without money, I beseech you, or I do not know what +will happen to me. I spend about twenty francs a day in medicine +of all sorts. We do not know how to keep him alive. . . ." + + +These letters give the lie to some of the gossip that has been +spread abroad with regard to the episode of the Hotel Danieli. +And I too, thanks to these letters, shall have put an end to a legend! +In the second volume of Wladimir Karenine's work on George Sand, +on page 61, we have the following words-- + +"Monsieur Plauchut tells us that, according to Buloz, Musset had +been enticed into a gambling hell during his stay in Venice, +and had lost about four hundred pounds there. The imprudent young +man could not pay this debt of honour, and he never would have been +able to do so. He had to choose between suicide or dishonour. +George Sand did not hesitate a moment. She wrote at once to +the manager of the _Revue_, asking him to advance the money." +And this debt was on her shoulders for a long time. + +The facts of the case are as follows, according to a letter from +George Sand to Buloz: "I beseech you, as a favour, to pay Alfred's +debt and to write to him that it is all settled. You cannot imagine +the impatience and the disturbance that this little matter cause him. +He speaks to me of it every minute, and begs me every day to write +to you about it. He owes these three hundred and sixty francs +(L14 8_s_.) to a young man he knows very little and who might talk +of it to people. . . . You have already advanced much larger +sums to him. He has always paid you back, and you are not afraid +that this would make you bankrupt. If, through his illness, he should +not be able to work for a long time, my work could be used for that, +so be at ease. . . . Do this, I beseech you, and write him a short +letter to ease his mind at once. I will then read it to him, and this +will pacify one of the torments of his poor head. Oh, my friend, +if you only knew what this delirium is like! What sublime and +awful things he has said, and then what convulsions and shouts! +I do not know how he has had strength enough to pull through and +how it is that I have not gone mad myself. Adieu, adieu, my friend." + +There really was a gambling debt, then, but we do not know exactly +where it was contracted. It amounted to three hundred and sixty francs, +which is very different from the ten thousand francs and the threat +of suicide. + +And now we come to the pure folly! Musset had been attended +by a young doctor, Pietro Pagello. He was a straightforward sort +of young man, of rather slow intelligence, without much conversation, +not speaking French, but very handsome. George Sand fell in love +with him. One night, after having scribbled a letter of three pages, +she put it into an envelope without any address and gave it to Pagello. +He asked her to whom he was to give the letter. George Sand +took the envelope back and wrote on it: "To stupid Pagello." +We have this declaration, and among other things in the letter are +the following lines: "You will not deceive me, anyhow. You will not +make any idle promises and false vows. . . . I shall not, perhaps, +find in you what I have sought for in others, but, at any rate, +I can always believe that you possess it. . . . I shall +be able to interpret your meditations and make your silence +speak eloquently. . . ." This shows us clearly the kind of +charm George Sand found in Pagello. She loved him because he was stupid. + +The next questions are, when did they become lovers, and how did Musset +discover their intimacy? It is quite certain that he suspected it, +and that he made Pagello confess his love for George Sand.[20] A +most extraordinary scene then took place between the three of them, +according to George Sand's own account. "Adieu, then," she wrote +to Musset, later on, "adieu to the fine poem of our sacred +friendship and of that ideal bond formed between the three of us, +when you dragged from him the confession of his love for me and +when he vowed to you that he would make me happy. Oh, that night +of enthusiasm, when, in spite of us, you joined our hands, saying: +`You love each other and yet you love me, for you have saved me, +body and soul." Thus, then, Musset had solemnly abjured his love +for George Sand, he had engaged his mistress of the night before +to a new lover, and was from henceforth to be their best friend. +Such was the ideal bond, such the sacred friendship! This may be +considered the romantic escapade. + + + +[20] On one of George Sand's unpublished letters to Buloz +the following lines are written in the handwriting of Buloz: + +"In the morning on getting up he discovered, in an adjoining room, +a tea-table still set, but with only one cup. + +"`Did you have tea yesterday evening?' + +"`Yes,' answered George Sand, `I had tea with the doctor.' + +"`Ah, how is it that there is only one cup?' + +"`The other has been taken away.' + +"`No, nothing has been taken away. You drank out of the same cup.' + +"`Even if that were so, you have no longer the right to trouble +about such things.' + +"`I have the right, as I am still supposed to be your lover. +You ought at least to show me respect, and, as I am leaving in +three days, you might wait until I have gone to do as you like.' + +"The night following this scene Musset discovered George Sand, +crouching on her bed, writing a letter. + +"`What are you doing?' he asked. + +"`I am reading,' she replied, and she blew out the candle. + +"`If you are reading, why do you put the candle out?' + +"`It went out itself: light it again.' + +"Alfred de Musset lit it again. + +"`Ah, so you were reading, and you have no book. Infamous woman, +you might as well say that you are writing to your lover.' +George Sand had recourse to her usual threat of leaving the house. +Alfred de Musset read her up: `You are thinking of a horrible plan. +You want to hurry off to your doctor, pretend that I am mad +and that your life is in danger. You will not leave this room. +I will keep you from anything so base. If you do go, I will put such +an epitaph on your grave that the people who read it will turn pale,' +said Alfred with terrible energy. + +"George Sand was trembling and crying. + +"`I no longer love you,' Alfred said scoffingly to George Sand. + +"`It is the right moment to take your poison or to go and drown yourself.' + +"Confession to Alfred of her secret about the doctor. Reconciliation. +Alfred's departure. George Sand's affectionate and enthusiastic letters." + +Such are the famous episodes of the _tea-cup_ and _the letter_ +as Buloz heard them told at the time. {The end of footnote [20]} + + +Musset returned in March, 1834, leaving George Sand with Pagello +in Venice. The sentimental exaggeration continued, as we see +from the letters exchanged between Musset and George Sand. +When crossing the Simplon the immutable grandeur of the Alps struck +Alusset with admiration, and he thought of his two "great friends." +His head was evidently turned by the heights from which he looked +at things. George Sand wrote to him: "I am not giving you +any message from Pagello, except that he is almost as sad as I +am at your absence." "He is a fine fellow," answered Musset. +"Tell him how much I like him, and that my eyes fill with tears +when I think of him." Later on he writes: "When I saw Pagello, +I recognized in him the better side of my own nature, but pure +and free from the irreparable stains which have ruined mine." +"Always treat me like that," writes Musset again. "It makes me +feel proud. My dear friend, the woman who talks of her new lover +in this way to the one she has given up, but who still loves her, +gives him a proof of the greatest esteem that a man can receive +from a woman. . . ." That romanticism which made a drama of the +situation in _L'Ecole des Femmes_, and another one out of that in +the _Precieuses ridicules_, excels in taking tragically situations +that belong to comedy and in turning them into the sublime. + +Meanwhile George Sand had settled down in Venice with Pagello-- +and with all the family, all the Pagello tribe, with the brother, +the sister, to say nothing of the various rivals who came and +made scenes. It was the vulgar, ordinary platitude of an Italian +intimacy of this kind. In spite of everything, she continued +congratulating herself on her choice. + +"I have my love, my stay here with me. He never suffers, for he is +never weak or suspicious. . . . He is calm and good. . . . +He loves me and is at peace; he is happy without my having to suffer, +without my having to make efforts for his happiness. . . . As for me, +I must suffer for some one. It is just this suffering which nurtures +my maternal solicitude, etc. . . ." She finally begins to weary +of her dear Pagello's stupidity. It occurred to her to take him +with her to Paris, and that was the climax. There are some things +which cannot be transplanted from one country to another. When they had +once set foot in Paris, the absurdity of their situation appeared to them. + +"From the moment that Pagello landed in France," says George Sand, +"he could not understand anything." The one thing that he +was compelled to understand was that he was no longer wanted. +He was simply pushed out. George Sand had a remarkable gift for +bringing out the characteristics of the persons with whom she had +any intercourse. This Pagello, thanks to his adventure with her, +has become in the eyes of the world a personage as comic as one +of Moliere's characters. + +Musset and George Sand still cared for each other. He beseeched +her to return to him. "I am good-for-nothing," he says, "for I am +simply steeped in my love for you. I do not know whether I am alive, +whether I eat, drink, or breathe, but I know I am in love." +George Sand was afraid to return to him, and Sainte-Beuve forbade her. +Love proved stronger than all other arguments, however, and she yielded. + +As soon as she was with him once more, their torture commenced again, +with all the customary complaints, reproaches and recriminations. +"I was quite sure that all these reproaches would begin again +immediately after the happiness we had dreamed of and promised +each other. Oh, God, to think that we have already arrived at this!" +she writes. + +What tortured them was that the past, which they had believed to be "a +beautiful poem," now seemed to them a hideous nightmare. All this, +we read, was a game that they were playing. A cruel sort of game, +of which Musset grew more and more weary, but which to George Sand +gradually became a necessity. We see this, as from henceforth it was she +who implored Musset. In her diary, dated December 24, 1834, we read: +"And what if I rushed to him when my love is too strong for me. +What if I went and broke the bell-pull with ringing, until he opened +his door to me. Or if I lay down across the threshold until he +came out!" She cut off her magnificent hair and sent it to him. +Such was the way in which this proud woman humbled herself. +She was a prey to love, which seemed to her a holy complaint. +It was a case of Venus entirely devoted to her prey. The question is, +was this really love? "I no longer love you," she writes, "but I +still adore you. I do not want you any more, but I cannot do +without you." They had the courage to give each other up finally +in March, 1835. + +It now remains for us to explain the singularity of this adventure, +which, as a matter of fact, was beyond all logic, even the logic +of passion. It is, however, readily understood, if we treat it +as a case of acute romanticism, the finest case of romanticism, +that has been actually lived, which the history of letters offers us. + +The romanticism consists first in exposing one's life to the public, +in publishing one's most secret joys and sorrows. From the very +beginning George Sand and Musset took the whole circle of their +friends into their confidence. These friends were literary people. +George Sand specially informs Sainte-Beuve that she wishes her +sentimental life from thenceforth to be known. They were quite +aware that they were on show, as it were, subjects of an experiment +that would be discussed by "the gallery." + +Romanticism consists next in the writer putting his life into his books, +making literature out of his emotions. The idea of putting their +adventure into a story occurred to the two lovers before the adventure +had come to an end. It was at Venice that George Sand wrote her first +_Lettres d'un voyageur_, addressed to the poet--and to the subscribers +of the _Revue des Deux Mondes_. Musset, to improve on this idea, +decides to write a novel from the episode which was still unfinished. +"I will not die," he says, "until I have written my book on you and +on myself, more particularly on you. No, my beautiful, holy fiancee, +you shall not return to this cold earth before it knows the woman +who has walked on it. No, I swear this by my youth and genius." +Musset's contributions to this literature were _Confession d'un +enfant du siecle_, _Histoire d'un merle blanc_, _Elle et Lui_, +and all that followed. + +In an inverse order, romanticism consists in putting literature +into our life, in taking the latest literary fashion for our +rule of action. This is not only a proof of want of taste; +it is a most dangerous mistake. The romanticists, who had so many +wrong ideas, had none more erroneous than their idea of love, +and in the correspondence between George Sand and Musset we see +the paradox in all its beauty. It consists in saying that love leads +to virtue and that it leads there through change. Whether the idea +came originally from _her_ or from _him_, this was their common faith. + +"You have said it a hundred times over," writes George Sand, +"and it is all in vain that you retract; nothing will now efface +that sentence: `Love is the only thing in the world that counts.' +It may be that it is a divine faculty which we lose and then find again, +that we must cultivate, or that we have to buy with cruel suffering, +with painful experience. The suffering you have endured through +loving me was perhaps destined, in order that you might love +another woman more easily. Perhaps the next woman may love you +less than I do, and yet she may be more happy and more beloved. +There are such mysteries in these things, and God urges us along +new and untrodden paths. Give in; do not attempt to resist. +He does not desert His privileged ones. He takes them by the hand +and places them in the midst of the sandbanks, where they are to learn +to live, in order that they may sit down at the banquet at which they +are to rest. . . ." Later on she writes as follows: "Do you +imagine that one love affair, or even two, can suffice for exhausting +or taking the freshness from a strong soul? I believed this, too, +for a long time, but I know now that it is quite the contrary. +Love is a fire that endeavours to rise and to purify itself. +Perhaps the more we have failed in our endeavours to find it, +the more apt we become to discover it, and the more we have been +obliged to change, the more conservative we shall become. Who knows? +It is perhaps the terrible, magnificent and courageous work of a +whole lifetime. It is a crown of thorns which will blossom and be +covered with roses when our hair begins to turn white. + + +This was pure frenzy, and yet there were two beings ready +to drink in all this pathos, two living beings to live out this +monstrous chimera. Such are the ravages that a certain conception +of literature may make. By the example we have of these two +illustrious victims, we may imagine that there were others, +and very many others, obscure and unknown individuals, but human +beings all the same, who were equally duped. There are unwholesome +fashions in literature, which, translated into life, mean ruin. +The Venice adventure shows up the truth of this in bright daylight. +This is its interest and its lesson. + + + +V + +THE FRIEND OF MICHEL (DE BOURGES) + +LISZT AND COMTESSE D'AGOULT. _MAUPRAT_ + + +We have given the essential features of the Venice adventure. +The love affair, into which George Sand and Musset had put so +much literature, was to serve literature. Writers of the romantic +school are given to making little songs with their great sorrows. +When the correspondence between George Sand and Musset appeared, +every one was surprised to find passages that were already well known. +Such passages had already appeared in the printed work of the poet +or of the authoress. An idea, a word, or an illustration used by +the one was now, perhaps, to be found in the work of the other one. + +"It is I who have lived," writes George Sand, "and not an unreal +being created by my pride and my _ennui_." We all know the use +to which Musset put this phrase. He wrote the famous couplet +of Perdican with it: "All men are untruthful, inconstant, false, +chatterers, hypocritical, proud, cowardly, contemptible and sensual; +all women are perfidious, artful, vain, inquisitive and depraved. +. . . There is, though, in this world one thing which is holy +and sublime. It is the union of these two beings, imperfect and +frightful as they are. We are often deceived in our love; +we are often wounded and often unhappy, but still we love, +and when we are on the brink of the tomb we shall turn round, +look back, and say to ourselves: `I have often suffered, I have +sometimes been deceived, but I have loved. It is I who have lived, +and not an unreal being created by my pride and _ennui_.'" +Endless instances of this kind could be given. They are simply +the sign of the reciprocal influence exercised over each other by +George Sand and Musset, an influence to be traced through all their work. + +This influence was of a different kind and of unequal degree. It was +George Sand who first made literature of their common recollections. +Some of these recollections were very recent ones and were impregnated +with tears. The two lovers had only just separated when George Sand +made the excursion described in the first _Lettre d'un voyageur_. +She goes along the Brenta. It is the month of May, and the meadows +are in flower. In the horizon she sees the snowy peaks of the +Tyrolese Alps standing out. The remembrance of the long hours spent +at the invalid's bedside comes back to her, with all the anguish +of the sacred passion in which she thinks she sees God's anger. +She then pays a visit to the Oliero grottoes, and once more her +wounded love makes her heart ache. She returns through Possagno, +whose beautiful women served as models for Canova. She then goes back +to Venice, and the doctor gives her a letter from the man she has +given up, the man she has sent away. These poetical descriptions, +alternating with lyrical effusions, this kind of dialogue with two voices, +one of which is that of nature and the other that of the heart, +remind us of one of Musset's _Nuits_. + +The second of these _Lettres d'un voyageur_ is entirely descriptive. +It is spring-time in Venice. The old balconies are gay with flowers; +the nightingales stop singing to listen to the serenades. +There are songs to be heard at every street corner, music in the wake +of every gondola. There are sweet perfumes and love-sighs in the air. +The delights of the Venetian nights had never been described like this. +The harmony of "the three elements, water, sky and marble," +had never been better expressed, and the charm of Venice had +never been suggested in so subtle and, penetrating a manner. +The second letter treats too of the gondoliers, and of their habits +and customs. + +The third letter, telling us about the nobility and the women +of Venice, completes the impression. Just as the Pyrenees had +moved George Sand, so Italy now moved her. This was a fresh +acquisition for her palette. More than once from henceforth +Venice was to serve her for the wonderful scenery of her stories. +This is by no means a fresh note, though, in George Sand's work. +There is no essential difference, then, in her inspiration. +She had always been impressionable, but her taste was now +getting purer. Musset, the most romantic of French poets, +had an eminently classical taste. In the _Lettres de Dupuis +et Cotonet_, he defined romanticism as an abuse of adjectives. +He was of Madame de Lafayette's opinion, that a word taken out was +worth twenty pennies, and a phrase taken out twenty shillings. +In a copy of _Indiana_ he crossed out all the useless epithets. +This must have made a considerable difference to the length of the book. +George Sand was too broad-minded to be hurt by such criticism, +and she was intelligent enough to learn a lesson from it. + +Musset's transformation was singularly deeper. When he started +for Venice, he was the youngest and most charming of poets, +fanciful and full of fun. "Monsieur mon gamin d'Alfred," +George Sand called him at that time. When he returned from there, +he was the saddest of poets. For some time he was, as it were, +stunned. His very soul seemed to be bowed down with his grief. +He was astonished at the change he felt in himself, and he did +not by any means court any fresh inspiration. + + + _J'ai vu, le temps ou ma jeuxesse_ + _Sur mes levres etait sans cesse_ + _Prete a chanter comme un oiseau;_ + _Mais j'ai souffert un dur martyre_ + _Et le moins que j'en pourrais dire_, + _Si je lessayais sur a lyre_, + _La briserait comme un roseau_, + +he writes. + +In the _Nuit de Mai_, the earliest of these songs of despair, +we have the poet's symbol of the pelican giving its entrails as food +to its starving young. The only symbols that we get in this poetry +are symbols of sadness, and these are at times given in magnificent +fulness of detail. We have solitude in the _Nuit de decembre_, +and the labourer whose house has been burnt in the _Lettre a Lamartine_. +The _Nuit d'aout_ gives proof of a wild effort to give life another trial, +but in the _Auit d'octobre_ anger gets the better of him once more. + + + _Honte a toi, qui la premiere + M'as appris la trahison . . .!_ + + +The question has often been asked whether the poet refers here to the +woman he loved in Venice but it matters little whether he did or not. +He only saw her through the personage who from henceforth symbolized +"woman" to him and the suffering which she may cause a man. And yet, +as this suffering became less intense, softened as it was by time, +he began to discover the benefit of it. His soul had expanded, +so that he was now in communion with all that is great in Nature +and in Art. The harmony of the sky, the silence of night, the murmur +of flowing water, Petrarch, Michel Angelo, Shakespeare, all appealed +to him. The day came when he could write: + + + _Un souvenir heureux est peut-etre sur terre + Plus vrai que le bonheur_. + + +This is the only philosophy for a conception of life which treats +love as everything for man. He not only pardons now, but he is grateful + + + +_Je ne veux rien savoir, ni si les champ s + +fleurissent, Nice quil adviendra di., simulacre + +humain, Ni si ces vastes cieux eclaireront demain + +Ce qu' ils ensevelissent. heure, en ce lieu, + +Je me dis seulement: a cette + +Un jour, je fus aime, j'aimais, elle etait belle, + +Jenfouis ce tresor dans mon ame immortelle + +Et je l'em porte a Dieu._ + + + +This love poem, running through all he wrote from the _Nuit de Mai_ +to the _Souvenir_, is undoubtedly the most beautiful and the most +profoundly human of anything in the French language. The charming +poet had become a great poet. That shock had occurred within him +which is felt by the human being to the very depths of his soul, +and makes of him a new creature. It is in this sense that the theory +of the romanticists, with regard to the educative virtues of suffering, +is true. But it is not only suffering in connection with our love +affairs which has this special privilege. After some misfortune +which uproots, as it were, our life, after some disappointment +which destroys our moral edifice, the world appears changed to us. +The whole network of accepted ideas and of conventional opinions is +broken asunder. We find ourselves in direct contact with reality, +and the shock makes our true nature come to the front. . . . Such was +the crisis through which Musset had just passed. The man came +out of it crushed and bruised, but the poet came through it triumphant. + +It has been insisted on too much that George Sand was only the +reflection of the men who had approached her. In the case of Musset +it was the contrary. Musset owed her more than she owed to him. +She transformed him by the force of her strong individuality. +She, on the contrary, only found in Musset a child, and what she +was seeking was a dominator. + + +She thought she had discovered him this very year 1835. + +The sixth _Lettre d'un voyageur_ was addressed to Everard. +This Everard was considered by her to be a superior man. +He was so much above the average height that George Sand advised +him to sit down when he was with other men, as when standing he was +too much above them. She compares him to Atlas carrying the world, +and to Hercules in a lion's skin. But among all her comparisons, +when she is seeking to give the measure of his superiority, without ever +really succeeding in this, it is evident that the comparison she +prefers is that of Marius at Minturnae. He personifies virtue +a _l'antique:_ he is the Roman. + +Let us now consider to whom all this flattery was addressed, +and who this man, worthy of Plutarch's pen, was. His name was +Michel, and he was an advocate at Bourges. He was only thirty- +seven years of age, but he looked sixty. After Sandeau and +Musset, George Sand had had enough of "adolescents." She was +very much struck with Michel, as he looked like an old man. +The size of his cranium was remarkable, or, as she said of his craniums: +"It seemed as though he had two craniums, one joined to the other." +She wrote: "The signs of the superior faculties of his mind were +as prominent at the prow of this strong vessel as those of his +generous instincts at the stern."[21] In order to understand this +definition of the "fine physique" by George Sand, we must remember +that she was very much taken up with phrenology at this time. +One of her _Lettres d'un voyageur_ was entitled Sur _Lavater et +sur une Maison deserte_. In a letter to Madame d'Agoult, George +Sand tells that her gardener gave notice to leave, and, on asking +him his reason, the simple-minded man replied: "Madame has such +an ugly head that my wife, who is expecting, might die of fright." +The head in question was a skull, an anatomical one with compartments +all marked and numbered, according to the system of Gall and Spurzheim. +In 1837, phrenology was very much in favour. In 1910, it is hypnotism, +so we have no right to judge the infatuation of another epoch. + + +[21] _Histoire de ma vie_. + + +Michel's cranium was bald. He was short, slight, he stooped, +was short-sighted and wore glasses. It is George Sand who gives +these details for his portrait. He was born of peasant parents, +and was of Jacobin simplicity. He wore a thick, shapeless inverness +and sabots. He felt the cold very much, and used to ask permission +to put on a muffler indoors. He would then take three or four +out of his pockets and put them on his head, one over the other. +In the _Lettre d'un voyageur_ George Sand mentions this crown on +Everard's head. Such are the illusions of love. + +The first time she met Michel was at Bourges. She went with her +two friends, Papet and Fleury, to call on him at the hotel. +From seven o'clock until midnight he never ceased talking. It was +a magnificent night, and he proposed a walk in the town at midnight. +When they came back to his door he insisted on taking them home, +and so they continued walking backwards and forwards until four in +the morning. He must have been an inveterate chatterer to have clung +to this public of three persons at an hour when the great buildings, +with the moon throwing its white light over them and everything around, +must have suggested the majesty of silence. To people who were +amazed at this irrepressible eloquence, Michel answered ingenuously: +"Talking is thinking aloud. By thinking aloud in this way I advance +more quickly than if I thought quietly by myself." This was Numa +Roumestan's idea. "As for me," he said, "when I am not talking, +I am not thinking." As a matter of fact, Michel, like Numa, +was a native of Provence. In Paris there was a repetition of this +nocturnal and roving scene. Michel and his friends had come +to a standstill on the Saints-Peres bridge. They caught sight +of the Tuileries lighted up for a ball. Michel became excited, +and, striking the innocent bridge and its parapet with his stick, +he exclaimed: "I tell you that if you are to freshen and renew +your corrupt society, this beautiful river will first have to be red +with blood, that accursed palace will have to be reduced to ashes, +and the huge city you are now looking at will have to be a bare +strand where the family of the poor man can use the plough and build +a cottage home." + +This was a fine phrase for a public meeting, but perhaps too fine +for a conversation between friends on the Saints-Peres bridge. + +This was in 1835, at the most brilliant moment of Michel's career. +It was when he was taking part in the trial of the accused men +of April. After the insurrections of the preceding year at Lyons +and Paris, a great trial had commenced before the Chamber of Peers. +We are told that: "The Republican party was determined to make +use of the cross-questioning of the prisoners for accusing +the Government and for preaching Republicanism and Socialism. +The idea was to invite a hundred and fifty noted Republicans +to Paris from all parts of France. In their quality of defenders, +they would be the orators of this great manifestation." +Barb'es, Blanqui, Flocon, Marie, Raspail, Trelat and Michel +of Bourges were among these Republicans. "On the 11th of May, +the revolutionary newspapers published a manifesto in which the committee +for the defence congratulated and encouraged the accused men. +One hundred and ten signatures were affixed to this document, +which was a forgery. It had been drawn up by a few of the upholders +of the scheme, and, in order to make it appear more important, they had +affixed the names of their colleagues without their authorization. +Those who had done this then took fright, and attempted to get +out of the dangerous adventure by a public avowal. In order to +save the situation, two of the guilty party, Trelat and Michel +of Bourges, took the responsibility of the drawing up of the +manifesto and the apposition of the signatures upon themselves. +They were sentenced by the Court of Peers, Trelat to four years of +prison and Michel to a month."[22] This was the most shocking +inequality, and Michel could not forgive Trelat for getting such +a fine sentence. + + +[22] Thureau Dangin, _Histoire de la Monarchie de Juillet_, II. 297. + + +What good was one month of prison? Michel's career certainly +had been a very ordinary one. He hesitated and tacked about. +In a word, he was just a politician. George Sand tells us that he +was obliged "to accept, in theory, what he called the necessities +of pure politics, ruse, charlatanism and even untruth, concessions +that were not sincere, alliances in which he did not believe, +and vain promises." We should say that he was a radical opportunist. +To be merely an opportunist, though, is not enough for ensuring success. +There are different ways of being an opportunist. Michel had been +elected a Deputy, but he had no _role_ to play. In 1848, he could +not compete with the brilliancy of Raspail, nor had he the prestige +of Flocon. He went into the shade completely after the _coup d'etat_. +For a long time he had really preferred business to politics, +and a choice must be made when one is not a member of the Government. + +It is easy to see what charmed George Sand in Michel. He was a sectarian, +and she took him for an apostle. He was brutal, and she thought +him energetic. He had been badly brought up, but she thought him +simply austere. He was a tyrant, but she only saw in him a master. +He had told her that he would have her guillotined at the first +possible opportunity. This was an incontestable proof of superiority. +She was sincere herself, and was con- + +sequently not on her guard against vain boasting. He had +alarmed her, and she admired him for this, and at once incarnated +in him that stoical ideal of which she had been dreaming +for years and had not yet been able to attribute to any one else. + +This is how she explained to Michel her reasons for loving him. +"I love you," she says, "because whenever I figure to myself grandeur, +wisdom, strength and beauty, your image rises up before me. +No other man has ever exercised any moral influence over me. +My mind, which has always been wild and unfettered, has never +accepted any guidance. . . . You came, and you have taught me." +Then again she says: "It is you whom I love, whom I have loved +ever since I was born, and through all the phantoms in whom +I thought, for a moment, that I had found you." According to this, +it was Michel she loved through Musset. Let us hope that she +was mistaken. + +A whole correspondence exists between George Sand and Michel of Bourges. +Part of it was published not long ago in the _Revue illustree_ under +the title of _Lettres de lemmze_. None of George Sand's letters +surpass these epistles to Michel for fervent passion, beauty of form, +and a kind of superb _impudeur_. Let us take, for instance, +this call to her beloved. George Sand, after a night of work, +complains of fatigue, hunger and cold: "Oh, my lover," she cries, +"appear, and, like the earth on the return of the May sunshine, +I should be reanimated, and would fling off my shroud of ice and thrill +with love. The wrinkles of suffering would disappear from my brow, +and I should seem beautiful and young to you, for I should leap +with joy into your iron strong arms. Come, come, and I shall +have strength, health, youth, gaiety, hope. . . . I will go forth +to meet you like the bride of the song, `to her well-beloved.'" +The Well-beloved to whom this Shulamite would hasten was a bald-headed +provincial lawyer who wore spectacles and three mufflers. But it +appears that his "beauty, veiled and unintelligible to the vulgar, +revealed itself, like that of Jupiter hidden under human form, +to the women whom he loved." + +We must not smile at these mythological comparisons. George Sand had, +as it were, restored for herself that condition of soul to which the +ancient myths are due. A great current of naturalist poetry circulates +through these pages. In Theocritus and in Rousard there are certain +descriptive passages. There is an analogy between them and that image +of the horse which carries George Sand along on her impetuous course. + +"As soon as he catches sight of me, he begins to paw the ground +and rear impatiently. I have trained him to clear a hundred fathoms +a second. The sky and the ground disappear when he bears me along +under those long vaults formed by the apple-trees in blossom. . . . +The least sound of my voice makes him bound like a ball; the smallest +bird makes him shudder and hurry along like a child with no experience. +He is scarcely five years old, and he is timid and restive. +His black crupper shines in the sunshine like a raven's wing." +This description has all the relief of an antique figure. +Another time, George Sand tells how she has seen Phoebus throw +off her robe of clouds and rush along radiant into the pure sky. +The following day she writes: "She was eaten by the evil spirits. +The dark sprites from Erebus, riding on sombre-looking clouds, +threw themselves on her, and it was in vain that she struggled." +We might compare these passages with a letter of July 10, 1836, +in which she tells how she throws herself, all dressed as she is, +into the Indre, and then continues her course through the sunny +meadows, and with what voluptuousness she revels in all the joys +of primitive life, and imagines herself living in the beautiful +times of ancient Greece. There are days and pages when George Sand, +under the afflux of physical life, is pagan. Her genius then is +that of the greenwood divinities, who, at certain times of the year, +were intoxicated by the odour of the meadows and the sap of the woods. +If some day we were to have her complete correspondence given to us, +I should not be surprised if many people preferred it to her +letters to Musset. In the first place, it is not spoiled by that +preoccupation which the Venice lovers had, of writing literature. +Mingled with the accents of sincere passion, we do not find +extraordinary conceptions of paradoxical metaphysics. It is Nature +which speaks in these letters, and for that very reason they are none +the less sorrowful. They, too, tell us of a veritable martyrdom. +We can easily imagine from them that Michel was coarse, despotic, +faithless and jealous. We know, too, that more than once George Sand +came very near losing all patience with him, so that we can sympathize +with her when she wrote to Madame d'Agoult in July, 1836: + +"I have had, my fill of great men (excuse the expression). . . . +I prefer to see them all in Plutarch, as they would not then +cause me any suffering on the human side. May they all be carved +in marble or cast in bronze, but may I hear no more about them!" _Amen_. + +What disgusted George Sand with her Michel was his vanity and his +craving for adulation. In July, 1837, she had come to the end +of her patience, as she wrote to Girerd. It was one of her +peculiarities to always take a third person into her confidence. +At the time of Sandeau, this third person was Emile Regnault; +at the time of Musset, Sainte-Beuve, and now it was Girerd. +"I am tired out with my own devotion, and I have fought against +my pride with all the strength of my love. I have had nothing +but ingratitude and hardness as my recompense. I have felt my love +dying away and my soul being crushed, but I am cured at last. . . ." +If only she had had all this suffering for the sake of a great man, +but this time it was only in imaginary great man. + +The influence, though, that he had had over her thought was real, +and in a certain way beneficial. + +At the beginning she was far from sharing Michel's ideas, +and for some of them she felt an aversion which amounted to horror. +The dogma of absolute equality seemed an absurdity to her. +The Republic, or rather the various republics then in gestation, +appeared to her a sort of Utopia, and as she saw each of her friends +making "his own little Republic" for himself, she had not much faith +in the virtue of that form of government for uniting all French people. +One point shocked her above all others in Michel's theories. +This politician did not like artists. Just as the Revolution +did not find chemists necessary, he considered that the Republic +did not need writers, painters and musicians. These were all +useless individuals, and the Republic would give them a little +surprise by putting a labourer's spade or a shoemaker's awl into +their hands. George Sand considered this idea not only barbarous, +but silly. + +Time works wonders, for we have an indisputable proof that certain +of his opinions soon became hers. This proof is the Republican +catechism contained in her letters to her son Maurice, who was then +twelve years of age. He was at the Lycee Henri IV, in the same class +as the princes of Orleans. It is interesting to read what his mother +says to him concerning the father of his young school friends. +In a letter, written in December, 1835, she says: "It is certainly true +that Louis-Philippe is the enemy of humanity. . . ." Nothing less +than that! A little later, the enemy of humanity invites the young +friends of his son Montpensier to his _chateau_ for the carnival holiday. +Maurice is allowed to accept the invitation, as he wishes to, but he +is to avoid showing that gratitude which destroys independence. +"The entertainments that Montpensier offers you are favours," +writes this mother of the Gracchi quite gravely. If he is asked +about his opinions, the child is to reply that he is rather too +young to have opinions yet, but not too young to know what opinions +he will have when he is free to have them. "You can reply," +says his mother, "that you are Republican by race and by nature." +She then adds a few aphorisms. "Princes are our natural enemies," +she says; and then again: "However good-hearted the child of a king +may be, he is destined to be a tyrant." All this is certainly +a great commotion to make about her little son accepting a glass +of fruit syrup and a few cakes at the house of a schoolfellow. +But George Sand was then under the domination of "Robespierre +in person." + +Michel had brought George Sand over to republicanism. Without wishing +to exaggerate the service he had rendered her by this, it appears +to me that it certainly was one, if we look at it in one way. +Rightly or wrongly, George Sand had seen in Michel the man +who devotes himself entirely to a cause of general interest. +She had learnt something in his school, and perhaps all the more +thoroughly because it was in his school. She had learnt that love +is in any case a selfish passion. She had learnt that another +object must be given to the forces of sympathy of a generous heart, +and that such an object may be the service of humanity, devotion to +an idea. + +This was a turn in the road, and led the writer on to leave +the personal style for the impersonal style. + +There was another service, too, which Michel had rendered to +George Sand. He had pleaded for her in her petition for separation +from her husband, and she had won her case. + +Ever since George Sand had taken back her independence in 1831, +her intercourse with Dudevant had not been disagreeable. She and her +husband exchanged cordial letters. When he came to Paris, he made +no attempt to stay with his wife, lest he should inconvenience her. +"I shall put up at Hippolyte's," he says in his letter to her. +"I do not want to inconvenience you in the least, nor to be +inconvenienced myself, which is quite natural." He certainly +was a most discreet husband. When she started for Italy, he begs +her to take advantage of so good an opportunity for seeing such a +beautiful country. He was also a husband ready to give good advice. +Later on, he invited Pagello to spend a little time at Nohant. +This was certainly the climax in this strange story. + +During the months, though, that the husband and wife were together, +again at Nohant, the scenes began once more. Dudevant's irritability +was increased by the fact that he was always short of money, +and that he was aware of his own deplorable shortcomings as a financial +administrator. He had made speculations which had been disastrous. +He was very credulous, as so many suspicious people are, and he +had been duped by a swindler in an affair of maritime armaments. +He had had all the more faith in this enterprise because a picture +of the boat had been shown him on paper. He had spent ninety +thousand francs of the hundred thousand he had had, and was now +living on his wife's income. Something had to be decided upon. +George Sand paid his debts first, and the husband and wife then signed +an agreement to the effect that their respective property should +be separated. Dudevant regretted having signed this afterwards, +and it was torn up after a violent scene which took place before +witnesses in October, 1835. The pretext of this scene had been +an order given to Maurice. In a series of letters, which have never +hitherto been published, George Sand relates the various incidents +of this affair. We give some of the more important passages. +The following letter is to her half-brother Hippolyte, who used +to be Casimir's drinking companion. + +_"To Hippolyte Chatiron._ + + +"My friend, I am about to tell you some news which will reach +you indirectly, and that you had better hear first from me. +Instead of carrying out our agreement pleasantly and loyally, +Casimir is acting with the most insane animosity towards me. +Without my giving him any reason for such a thing, either by my +conduct or my manner of treating him, he endeavoured to strike me. +He was prevented by five persons, one of whom was Dutheil, and he then +fetched his gun to shoot me. As you can imagine, he was not allowed +to do this. + +"On account of such treatment and of his hatred, which amounts to madness, +there is no safety for me in a house to which he always has the right +to come. I have no guarantee, except his own will and pleasure, +that he will keep our agreement, and I cannot remain at the mercy +of a man who behaves so unreasonably and indelicately to me. +I have therefore decided to ask for a legal separation, and I shall +no doubt obtain this. Casimir made this frightful scene the evening +before leaving for Paris. On his return here, he found the house empty, +and me staying at Dutheil's, by permission of the President of +La Chatre. He also found a summons awaiting him on the mantelshelf. +He had to make the best of it, for he knew it was no use attempting +to fight against the result of his own folly, and that, by holding out, +the scandal would all fall on him. He made the following stipulations, +promising to adhere to them. Duthell was our intermediary. +I am to allow him a pension of 3,800 francs, which, with the 1,200 +francs income that he now has, will make 5,000 francs a year for him. +I think this is all straightforward, as I am paying for the education +of the two children. My daughter will remain under my guidance, +as I understand. My son will remain at the college where he now is +until he has finished his education. During the holidays he will +spend a month with his father and a month with me. In this way, +there will be no contest. Dudevant will return to Paris very soon, +without making any opposition, and the Court will pronounce the +separation in default."[23] + + +[23] Communicated by M. S. Rocheblave. + + +The following amusing letter on the same subject was written +by George Sand to Adolphe Duplomb in the _patois_ peculiar to Berry: + + +"DEAR HYDROGEN, + +"You have been misinformed about what took place at La Chatre. +Duthell never quarrelled with the Baron of Nohant-Vic. This is +the true story. The baron took it into his head to strike me. +Dutheil objected. Fleury and Papet also objected. The baron went +to search for his gun to kill every one. Every one did not want +to be killed, and so the baron said: `Well, that's enough then,' +and began to drink again. That was how it all happened. No one +quarrelled with him. But I had had enough. As I do not care to earn +my living and then leave _my substance_ in the hands of the _diable_ +and be bowed out of the house every year, while the village hussies +sleep in my beds and bring their fleas into my house, I just said: +`I ain't going to have any more of that,' and I went and found +the big judge of La Chatre, and I says, says I: `That's how it is.' +And then he says, says he: `All right.' And so he unmarried us. +And I am not sorry. They say that the baron will make an appeal. +I ain't knowin'. We shall see. If he does, he'll lose everything. +And that's the whole story."[24] + + +[24] Communicated by M. Charles Duplomb. + + + +The case was pleaded in March, 1836, at La Chatre, and in July +at Bourges. The Court granted the separation, and the care +of the children was attributed to George Sand. + +This was not the end of the affair, though. In September, 1837, +George Sand was warned that Dudevant intended to get Maurice away +from her. She sent a friend on whom she could count to take her +boy to Fontainebleau, and then went herself to watch over him. +In the mean time, Dudevant, not finding his son at Nohant, took Solange +away with him, in spite of the child's tears and the resistance +of the governess. George Sand gave notice to the police, and, +on discovering that her little daughter was sequestered at Guillery, +near Nerac, she went herself in a post-chaise to the sub-prefect, +a charming young man, who was no other than Baron Hauss- + +mann. On hearing the story, he went himself with her, and, +accompanied by the lieutenant of the constabulary and the sheriff's +officer on horseback, laid siege to the house at Guillery in which +the young girl was imprisoned. Dudevant brought his daughter +to the door and handed her over to her mother, threatening at +the same time to take Maurice from her by legal authority. +The husband and wife then separated . . . delighted with each other, +according to George Sand. They very rarely met after this affair. +Dudevant certainly did not impress people very favourably. +After the separation, when matters were being finally settled, +he put in a claim for fifteen pots of jam and an iron frying-pan. +All this seems very petty. + + +The first use George Sand made of the liberty granted to her +by the law, in 1836, was to start off with Maurice and Solange +for Switzerland to join her friends Franz Liszt and the Comtesse +d'Agoult. George Sand had made Liszt's acquaintance through Musset. +Liszt gave music-lessons to Alfred's sister, Herminie. He was born +in 1811, so that he was seven years younger than George Sand. +He was twenty-three at the time he first met her, and their friendship +was always platonc. They had remarkable affinities of nature. +Liszt had first thought of becoming a priest. His religious +fervour was gradually transformed into an ardent love of humanity. +His early education had been neglected, and he now read eagerly. +He once asked Monsieur Cremieux, the advocate, to teach him "the +whole of French literature." On relating this to some one, +Cremieux remarked: "Great confusion seems to reign in this young +man's mind." He had been wildly excited during the movement of 1830, +greatly influenced by the Saint-Simon ideas, and was roused to enthusiasm +by Lamennals, who had just published the _Paroles d'un Croyant_. +After reading Leone Leoni, he became an admirer of George Sand. +Leone Leoni is a transposition of Manon Lescaut into the romantic style. +A young girl named Juliette has been seduced by a young seigneur, +and then discovers that this man is an abominable swindler. +If we try to imagine all the infamous things of which an _apache_ +would be capable, who at the same time is devoted to the women +of the pavement, we then have Leone Leoni. Juliette, who is +naturally honest and straightforward, has a horror of all the +atrocities and shameful things she sees. And yet, in spite of all, +she comes back to Leone Leoni, and cannot love any one else. +Her love is stronger than she is, and her passion sweeps away all +scruples and triumphs over all scruples. The difference between +the novel of the eighteenth century, which was so true to life, +and this lyrical fantasy of the nineteenth century is very evident. +Manon and Des Grieux always remained united to each other, for they were +of equal value. Everything took place in the lower depths of society, +and in the mire, as it were, of the heart. You have only to make a good +man of Des Grieux, or a virtuous girl of Manon, and it is all over. +The transposing of Leone Leoni is just this, and the romanticism of it +delighted Liszt. + +He had just given a fine example of applying romanticism to life. +Marie d'Agoult, _nee_ de Flavigny, had decided, one fine day, +to leave her husband and daughter for the sake of the passion +that was everything to her. She accordingly started for Geneva, +and Liszt joined her there. + +Between these two women a friendship sprang up, which was due +rather to a wish to like each other than to a real attraction +or real fellow-feeling. The Comtesse d'Agoult, with her blue eyes, +her slender figure, and somewhat ethereal style, was a veritable Diana, +an aristocrat and a society woman. George Sand was her exact opposite. +But the Comtesse d'Agoult had just "sacrificed all the vanities of the +world for the sake of an artist," so that she deserved consideration. +The stay at Geneva was gay and animated. The _Piffoels_ (George +Sand and her children) and the _Fellows_ (Liszt and his pupil, +Hermann Cohen) enjoyed scandalizing the whole hotel by their +Bohemian ways. They went for an excursion to the frozen lake. +At Lausanne Liszt played the organ. On returning to Paris the +friends did not want to separate. In October, 1836, George Sand +took up her abode on the first floor of the Hotel de France, +in the Rue Laffitte, and Liszt and the Corntesse d'Agoult took a room +on the floor above. The trio shared, a drawing-room between them, +but in reality it became more the Comtesse d'Agoult's _salon_ than +George Sand's. Lamennais, Henri Heine, Mickiewicz, Michel of Bourges +and Charles Didier were among their visitors, and we are told that +this _salon_, improvised in a hotel was "a reunion of the _elite_, +over which the Comtesse d'Agoult presided with exquisite grace." +She was a true society woman, a veritable mistress of her home, one of +those who could transform a room in a hotel, a travelling carriage, +or even a prison into that exquisite thing, so dear to French polite +society of yore--a _salon_. + +Among the _habitues_ of Madame d'Agoult's _salon_ was Chopin. +This is a new chapter in George Sand's life, and a little later +on we shall be able to consider, as a whole, the importance of this +intercourse with great artists as regards her intellectual development. + + +Before finishing our study of this epoch in her life, we must notice +how much George Sand's talent had developed and blossomed out. +_Mauprat_ was published in 1837, and is undoubtedly the first of +her _chefs-d'oeuvre_. In her uninterrupted literary production, +which continued regularly in spite of and through all the storms +of her private life, there is much that is strange and second-rate +and much that is excellent. _Jacques_ is an extraordinary piece +of work. It was written at Venice when she was with Pagello. +George Sand declared that she had neither put herself nor Musset +into this book. She was nevertheless inspired by their case, +and she merely transposed their ideal of renunciation. +_Andre_ may be classed among the second-rate work. It is the story +of a young noble who seduces a girl of the working-class. It is +a souvenir of Berry, written in a home-sick mood when George Sand +was at Venice. _Simon_ also belongs to the second-rate category. +The portrait of Michel of Bourges can easily be traced in it. +George Sand had intended doing more for Michel than this. +She composed a revolutionary novel in three volumes, +in his honour, entitled: _Engelwald with the high forehead_. +Buloz neither cared for _Engelwald_ nor for his high forehead, +and this novel was never published. + +According to George Sand, when she wrote _Mauprat_ her idea was +the rehabilitation of marriage. "I had just been petitioning +for a separation," she says. I had, until then, been fighting +against the abuses of marriage, and, as I had never developed my +ideas sufficiently, I had given every one the notion that I +despised the essential principles of it. On the contrary, +marriage really appeared to me in all the moral beauty of those +principles, and in my book I make my hero, at the age of eighty, +proclaim his faithfulness to the only woman he has ever loved." + +"She is the only woman I have ever loved," says Bernard de Mauprat. +"No other woman has ever attracted my attention or been embraced +by me. I am like that. When I love, I love for ever, in the past, +in the present and in the future." + +_Mauprat_, then, according to George Sand, was a novel with a purpose, +just as _Indiana_ was, although they each had an opposite purpose. +Fortunately it is nothing of the kind. This is one of those +explanations arranged afterwards, peculiar sometimes to authors. +The reality about all this is quite different. + +In this book George Sand had just given the reins to her imagination, +without allowing sociological preoccupations to spoil everything. +During her excursions in Berry, she had stopped to gaze at the ruins +of an old feudal castle. We all know the power of suggestion contained +in those old stones, and how wonderfully they tell stories of the past +they have witnessed to those persons who know how to question them. +The remembrance of the _chateau_ of Roche Mauprat came to the mind +of the novelist. She saw it just as it stood before the Revolution, +a fortress, and at the same time a refuge for the wild lord and +his eight sons, who used to sally forth and ravage the country. +In French narrative literature there is nothing to surpass the +first hundred pages in which George Sand introduces us to the +burgraves of central France. She is just as happy when she takes +us to Paris with Bernard de Mauprat, to Paris of the last days +of the old _regime_. She introduces us to the society which she +had learnt to know through the traditions of her grandmother. +It is not only Nature, but history, which she uses as a setting +for her story. How cleverly, too, she treats the analysis which +is the true subject of the book, that of education through love. +We see the untamed nature of Bernard de Mauprat gradually giving way +under the influence of the noble and delicious Edmee. + +There are typical peasants, too, in _Mauprat_. We have Marcasse, +the mole-catcher, and Patience, the good-natured Patience, the rustic +philosopher, well up in Epictetus and in Jean-Jacques Rousseau, +who has gone into the woods to live his life according to the laws +of Nature and to find the wisdom of the primitive days of the world. +We are told that, during the Revolution, Patience was a sort +of intermediary between the _chateau_ and the cottage, and that he +helped in bringing about the reign of equity in his district. +It is to be hoped this was so. + +In any case, it is very certain that we come across this Patience +again in Russian novels with a name ending in _ow_ or _ew_. +This is a proof that if the personage seems somewhat impossible, +he was at any rate original, new and entertaining. + +We hear people say that George Sand is no longer read. It is to be +hoped that _Mauprat_ is still read, otherwise our modern readers miss +one of the finest stories in the history of novels. This, then, +is the point at which we have arrived in the evolution of George +Sand's genius. There may still be modifications in her style, +and her talent may still be refreshed under various influences, +but with _Mauprat_ she took her place in the first rank of great +storytellers.} + + + +VI + +A CASE OF MATERNAL AFFECTION IN LOVE + +CHOPIN + + +We have passed over George Sand's intercourse with Liszt +and Madame d'Agoult very rapidly. One of Balzac's novels +gives us an opportunity of saying a few more words about it. + +Balzac had been introduced to George Sand by Jules Sandeau. At the time +of her rupture with his friend, Balzac had sided entirely with him. +In the _Lettres a l'Etrangere_, we see the author of the _Comedie +humaine_ pouring out his indignation with the blue stocking, who was +so cruel in her love, in terms which were not extremely elegant. +Gradually, and when he knew more about the adventure, his anger +cooled down. In March, 1838, he gave Madame Zulma Carraud an +account of a visit to Nohant. He found his comrade, George Sand, +in her dressing-gown, smoking a cigar by her fireside after dinner. + +"She had some pretty yellow slippers on, ornamented with fringe, +some fancy stockings and red trousers. So much for the moral side. +Physically, she had doubled her chin like a canoness. She had +not a single white hair, in spite of all her fearful misfortunes; +her dusky complexion had not changed. Her beautiful eyes were +just as bright, and she looked just as stupid as ever when she +was thinking. . . ." + +This is George Sand in her thirty-fifth year, as she was at the time +of the fresh adventure we are about to relate. + +Balzac continues by giving us a few details about the life of +the authoress. It was very much like his own, except that Balzac +went to bed at six o'clock and got up at midnight, and George +Sand went to bed at six in the morning and got up at noon. +He adds the following remark, which shows us the state of her feelings: + +"She is now in a very quiet retreat, and condemns both marriage and love, +because she has had nothing but disappointment in both herself. +Her man was a rare one, that was really all." + + +In the course of their friendly conversation, George Sand gave him +the subject for a novel which it would be rather awkward for her +to write. The novel was to be _Galeriens_ or _Amours forces_. +These "galley-slaves" of love were Liszt and the Comtesse d'Agoult, +who had been with George Sand at Chamonix, Paris and Nohant. +It was very evident that she could not write the novel herself. + +Balzac accordingly wrote it, and it figures in the _Comedie humaine +as Beatrix_. Beatrix is the Comtesse d'Agoult, the inspirer, +and Liszt is the composer Conti. + +"You have no idea yet of the awful rights that a love which no +longer exists gives to a man over a woman. The convict is always +under the domination of the companion chained to him. I am lost, +and must return to the convict prison," writes Balzac in this book. +Then, too, there is no mistaking his portrait of Beatrix. +The fair hair that seems to give light, the forehead which +looks transparent, the sweet, charming face, the long, wonderfully +shaped neck, and, above and beyond all, that air of a princess, +in all this we can easily recognize "the fair, blue-eyed Peri." +Not content with bringing this illustrious couple into his novel, +Balzac introduces other contemporaries. Claude Vignon (who, although +his special work was criticism, made a certain place for himself +in literature) and George Sand herself appear in this book. +She is Felicite des Touches, and her pen name is Camille Maupin. +"Camille is an artist," we are told; "she has genius, and she leads +an exceptional life such as could not be judged in the same way +as an ordinary existence." Some one asks how she writes her books, +and the answer is: "Just in the same way as you do your +woman's work, your netting or your tapestry." She is said to have +the intelligence of an angel and even more heart than talent. +With her fixed, set gaze, her dark complexion and her masculine ways, +she is the exact antithesis of the fair Beatrix. She is constantly +being compared to the latter, and is evidently preferred to her. +It is very evident from whom Balzac gets his information, and it +is also evident that the friendship between the two women has +cooled down. + + +The cause of the coolness between them was George Sand's +infatuation for Chopin, whom she had known through Liszt and Madame +d'Agoult. George Sand wrote to Liszt from Nohant, in March, 1837: +"Tell Chopin that I hope he will come with you. Marie cannot +live without him, and I adore him." In April she wrote to Madame +d'Agoult: "Tell Chopin that I idolize him." We do not know whether +Madame d'Agoult gave the message, but she certainly replied: +"Chopin coughs with infinite grace. He is an irresolute man. +The only thing about him that is permanent is his cough." +This is certainly very feminine in its ferociousness. + +At the time when he came into George Sand's life, Chopin, +the composer and virtuoso, was the favourite of Parisian _salons_, +the pianist in vogue. He was born in 1810, so that he was then +twenty-seven years of age. His success was due, in the first place, +to his merits as an artist, and nowhere is an artist's success +so great as in Paris. Chopin's delicate style was admirably +suited to the dimensions and to the atmosphere of a _salon_.[25] + + +[25] As regards Chopin, I have consulted a biography by Liszt, +a study by M. Camille Bellaigue and the volume by M. Elie Poiree +in the _Collection des musiciens celebres_, published by H. Laurens. + + +He confessed to Liszt that a crowd intimidated him, that he +felt suffocated by all the quick breathing and paralyzed by the +inquisitive eyes turned on him. "You were intended for all this," +he adds, "as, if you do not win over your public, you can at least +overwhelm it." + +Chopin was made much of then in society. He was fragile and delicate, +and had always been watched over and cared for. He had grown +up in a peaceful, united family, in one of those simple homes +in which all the details of everyday life become less prosaic, +thanks to an innate distinction of sentiment and to religious habits. +Prince Radz'will had watched over Chopin's education. He had +been received when quite young in the most aristocratic circles, +and "the most celebrated beauties had smiled on him as a youth." +Social life, then, and feminine influence had thus helped to make him +ultra refined. It was very evident to every one who met him that he +was a well-bred man, and this is quickly observed, even with pianists. +On arriving he made a good impression, he was well dressed, his white +gloves were immaculate. He was reserved and somewhat languid. +Every one knew that he was delicate, and there was a rumour of an +unhappy love affair. It was said that he had been in love with a girl, +and that her family had refused to consent to her marriage with him. +People said he was like his own music, the dreamy, melancholy themes +seemed to accord so well with the pale young face of the composer. +The fascination of the languor which seemed to emanate from +the man and from his work worked its way, in a subtle manner, +into the hearts of his hearers. Chopin did not care to know Lelia. +He did not like women writers, and he was rather alarmed at this one. +It was Liszt who introduced them. In his biography of Chopin, he tells +us that the extremely sensitive artist, who was so easily alarmed, +dreaded "this woman above all women, as, like a priestess of Delphi, +she said so many things that the others could not have said. +He avoided her and postponed the introduction. Madame Sand +had no idea that she was feared as a sylph. . . ." She made +the first advances. It is easy to see what charmed her in him. +In the first place, he appealed to her as he did to all women, and then, +too, there was the absolute contrast of their two opposite natures. +She was all force, of an expansive, exuberant nature. He was +very discreet, reserved and mysterious. It seems that the Polish +characteristic is to lend oneself, but never to give oneself away, +and one of Chopin's friends said of him that he was "more Polish +than Poland itself." Such a contrast may prove a strong attraction, +and then, too, George Sand was very sensitive to the charm of music. +But what she saw above all in Chopin was the typical artist, just as she +understood the artist, a dreamer, lost in the clouds, incapable of +any activity that was practical, a "lover of the impossible." +And then, too, he was ill. When Musset left Venice, after all the +atrocious nights she had spent at his bedside, she wrote: "Whom shall +I have now to look after and tend?" In Chopin she found some one +to tend. + +About this time, she was anxious about the health of her son Maurice, +and she thought she would take her family to Majorca. This was +a lamentable excursion, but it seemed satisfactory at first. +They travelled by way of Lyons, Avignon, Vaucluse and Nimes. +At Perpignan, Chopin arrived, "as fresh as a rose." "Our journey," +wrote George Sand, "seems to be under the most favourable conditions." +They then went on to Barcelona and to Palma. In November, 1838, +George Sand wrote a most enthusiastic letter: "It is poetry, solitude, +all that is most artistic and _chique_ on earth. And what skies, +what a country; we are delighted."[26] The disenchantment was soon +to begin, though. The first difficulty was to find lodgings, +and the second to get furniture. There was no wood to burn and +there was no linen to be had. It took two months to have a pair +of tongs made, and it cost twenty-eight pounds at the customs for +a piano to enter the country. With great difficulty, the forlorn +travellers found a country-house belonging to a man named Gomez, +which they were able to rent. It was called the "Windy House." +The wind did not inconvenience them like the rain, which now commenced. +Chopin could not endure the heat and the odour of the fires. +His disease increased, and this was the origin of the great tribulations +that were to follow. + + +[26] The following is an unpublished letter to Madame Buloz: + +_Monday 13th._ + +MY DEAR CHRISTINE, + +"I have only been at Palma four days. My journey has been +very satisfactory, but rather long and difficult until we were out +of France. I took up my pen (as people say) twenty times over +to write the last five or six pages for which _Spiridion_ has been +waiting for six months. It is not the easiest thing in the world, +I can assure you, to give the conclusion of one's own religious belief, +and when travelling it is impossible. At twenty different places I have +resolved to think it solemnly over and to write down my conclusion. +But these stoppages were the most tiring part of our journey. +There were visits, dinners, walks, curiosities, ruins, the Vaucluse +fountain, Reboul and the Nimes arena, the Barcelona cathedrals, +dinners on board the war-ships, the Italian theatres of Spain +(and what theatres and what Italians!), guitars and Heaven knows +what beside. There was the moonlight on the sea and above +all Valma and Mallorca, the most delightful place in the world, +and all this kept me terribly far away from philosophy and theology. +Fortunately I have found some superb convents here all in ruins, +with palm-trees, aloes and the cactus in the midst of broken mosaics +and crumbling cloisters, and this takes me back to _Spiridion_. +For the last three days I have had a rage for work, which I cannot +satisfy yet, as we have neither fire nor lodging. There is not +an inn in Palma, no house to let and no furniture to be bought. +On arriving here people first have to buy some ground, then build, +and afterwards send for furniture. After this, permission to live +somewhere has to be obtained from Government, and after five or six years +one can think about opening one's trunk and changing one's chemise, +whilst waiting for permission from the Customs to have some shoes +and handkerchiefs passed. For the last four days then we have +spent our time going from door to door, as we do not want to sleep +in the open air. We hope now to be settled in about three days, +as a miracle has taken place. For the first time in the memory +of man, there is a furnished house to let in Mallorca, a charming +country-house in a delightful desert. . . ." {The end of footnote +[26]} + + +At that time Spain was the very last country in which to travel +with a consumptive patient. In a very fine lecture, the subject +of which was _The Fight with Tubcrculosis_,[27] Dr. Landouzy proves +to us that ever since the sixteenth century, in the districts of +the Mediterranean, in Spain, in the Balearic Isles and throughout +the kingdom of Naples, tuberculosis was held to be contagious, +whilst the rest of Europe was ignorant of this contagion. +Extremely severe rules had been laid down with regard to the measures +to be taken for avoiding the spread of this disease. A consumptive +patient was considered as a kind of plague-stricken individual. +Chateaubriand had experienced the inconveniences of this scare +during his stay in Rome with Madame de Beaumont, who died +there of consumption, at the beginning of the winter of 1803. +George Sand, in her turn, was to have a similar experience. +When Chopin was convicted of consumption, "which," as she writes, +"was equivalent to the plague, according to the Spanish doctors, +with their foregone conclusions about contagion," their landlord simply +turned them out of his house. They took refuge in the Chartreuse +monastery of Valdemosa, where they lived in a cell. The site +was very beautiful. By a wooded slope a terrace could be reached, +from which there was a view of the sea on two sides. + + +[27] L. Landouzy of the Academy of Medecine, _La Lutte contre +la tuberculose_, published by L. Maretheux. + + +"We are planted between heaven and earth," wrote George Sand. +"The clouds cross our garden at their own will and pleasure, +and the eagles clamour over our heads." + +A cell in this monastery was composed of three rooms: the one +in the middle was intended for reading, prayer and meditation, +the other two were the bedroom and the workshop. All three rooms +looked on to a garden. Reading, rest and manual labour made up +the life of these men. They lived in a limited space certainly, +but the view stretched out infinitely, and prayer went up direct to God. +Among the ruined buildings of the enormous monastery there was a +cloister still standing, through which the wind howled desperately. +It was like the scenery in the nuns' act in _Robert le Diable_. +All this made the old monastery the most romantic place in the +world.[28] + + +[28] George Sand to Madame Buloz. Postscript to the letter +already quoted: + +"I am leaving for the country where I have a furnished house +with a garden, magnificently situated for 50 francs a month. +I have also taken a cell, that is three rooms and a garden for 35 +francs a year in the Chartreuse of Valdemosa, a magnificent, +immense monastery quite lonely in the midst of mountains. +Our garden is full of oranges and lemons. The trees break +under them. We have hedges of cactus twenty to thirty feet high, +the sea is about a mile and a half away. We have a donkey to take +us to the town, roads inaccessible to visitors, immense cloisters +and the most beautiful architecture, a charming church, a cemetery +with a palm-tree and a stone cross like the one in the third act +of _Robert le Diable_. Then, too, there are beds of shrubs cut +in form. All this we have to ourselves with an old woman to wait +on us, and the sacristan who is warder, steward, majordomo and +Jack-of-all-trades. I hope we shall have ghosts. The door of my +cell leads into an enormous cloister, and when the wind slams +the door it is like a cannon going off through all the monastery. +I am delighted with everything, and fancy I shall be more often in +the cell than in the country-house, which is about six miles away. +You see that I have plenty of poetry and solitude, so that if I +do not work I shall be a stupid thing." {The end of footnote [28]} + + +The only drawback was that it was most difficult to live there. +There was no way of getting warm. The stove was a kind of iron +furnace which gave out a terrible odour, and did not prevent the rooms +from being so damp that clothes mildewed while they were being worn. +There was no way of getting proper food either. They had to eat the +most indigestible things. There were five sorts of meat certainly, +but these were pig, pork, bacon, ham and pickled pork. This was all +cooked in dripping, pork-dripping, of course, or in rancid oil. +Still more than this, the natives refused, not only to serve the +unfortunate travellers, but to sell them the actual necessaries of life. +The fact was, they had scandalized the Majorcan people. All Majorca +was indignant because Solange, who at that time was nine years old, +roamed about the mountains _disguised as a man_. Added to this, +when the horn sounded which called people to their devotions in +the churches, these strange inhabitants of the old Valdemosa monastery +never took any more notice than pagans. People kept clear of them. +Chopin suffered with the cold, the cooking made him sick, and he used +to have fits of terror in the cloisters. They had to leave hastily. +The only steamboat from the island was used to transport the pigs +which are the pride and wealth of Majorca. People were only taken +as an extra. It was, therefore, in the company of these squealing, +ill-smelling creatures that the invalid crossed the water. When he +arrived at Barcelona, he looked like a spectre and was spitting blood. +George Sand was quite right in saying that this journey was an +"awful fiasco." + + +Art and literature did not gain much either by this expedition. +George Sand finished her novel entitled _Spiridion_ at Valdemosa. +She had commenced it before starting for Spain. In a volume on _Un +hiver a Majorque_ she gave some fine descriptions, and also a harsh +accusation of the monks, whom she held responsible for all the mishaps +of the Sand caravan. She considered that the Majorcans had been +brutalized and fanaticized, thanks to their influence. As to Chopin, +he was scarcely in a state to derive any benefit from such a journey, +and he certainly did not get any. He did not thoroughly appreciate +the beauties of nature, particularly of Majorcan nature. In a +letter to one of his friends he gives the following description of +their habitation:-- + +"Between rocks and sea, in a great deserted monastery, in a cell, +the doors of which are bigger than the carriage entrances to +the houses in Paris, you can imagine me, without white gloves, +and no curl in my hair, as pale as usual. My cell is the shape +of a large-sized bier. . . ." + +This certainly does not sound very enthusiastic. The question is +whether he composed anything at all at Valdemosa. Liszt presents +him to us improvising his Prelude in B flat minor under the most +dramatic circumstances. We are told that one day, when George Sand +and her children had started on an excursion, they were surprised +by a thunderstorm. Chopin had stayed at home in the monastery, +and, terrified at the danger he foresaw for them, he fainted. +Before they reached home he had improvised his _Prelude_, in which he +has put all his terror and the nervousness due to his disease. +It appears, though, that all this is a legend, and that there is +not a single echo of the stay at Valdemosa in Chopin's work. + +The deplorable journey to Majorca dates +from November, 1838 to March, 1839. +The intimacy between George Sand and Chopin continued eight years more. + +In the summer Chopin stayed it Nohant. Eugene Delacroix, who was +paying a visit there too, describes his presence as follows: +"At times, through the window opening on to the garden, we get wafts +of Chopin's music, as he too is at work. It is mingled with the +songs of the nightingales and with the perfume of the rose trees." + +Chopin did not care much for Nohant. In the first place, he only +liked the country for about a fortnight at a time, which is very +much like not caring for it at all. Then what made him detest +the country were the inhabitants. Hippolyte Chatiron was terrible +after he had been drinking. He was extremely effusive and cordial. + +In the winter they first lived in the Rue Pigalle. George Sand +used to receive Pierre Leroux, Louis Blanc, Edgar Quinet, Etienne +Arago, and many other men. Chopin, who was not very intellectual, +felt ill at ease amongst all these literary men, these reformers, +arguers and speechifiers. In 1842, they emigrated to the Square +d'Orleans. There was a sort of little colony established there, +consisting of Alexandre Dumas, Dantan the caricaturist, the Viardots, +Zimmermann, and the wife of the Spanish consul, Madame Marliani, +who had attracted them all there. They took their meals together. +It was a regular phalinstery, and Chopin had very elegant tastes! + +We must give George Sand credit for looking after him with +admirable devotion. She certainly went on nursing her "invalid," +or her "dear skeleton," as she called him, but her infatuation +had been over for a long time. The absolute contrast of two +natures may be attractive at first, but the attraction does +not last, and, when the first enthusiasm is over, the logical +consequence is that they become disunited. This was what Liszt said +in rather an odd but energetic way. He points out all that there +was "intolerably incompatible, diametrically opposite and secretly +antipathetic between two natures which seemed to have been mutually +drawn to each other by a sudden and superficial attraction, +for the sake of repulsing each other later on with all the force +of inexpressible sorrow and boredom." Illness had embittered +Chopin's character. George Sand used to say that "when he was angry +he was terrifying." He was very intelligent, too, and delighted +in quizzing people for whom he did not care. Solange and Maurice +were now older, and this made the situation somewhat delicate. +Chopin, too, had a mania for meddling with family matters. +He quarrelled one day with Maurice. Another day George Sand was +annoyed with her son-in-law Clesinger and with her daughter Solange, +and Chopin took their side. This was the cause of their quarrel; +it was the last drop that made the cup of bitterness overflow. + +The following is a fragment of a letter which George Sand sent to +Grzymala, in 1847: "For seven years I have lived with him as a virgin. +If any woman on earth could inspire him with absolute confidence, I am +certainly that woman, but he has never understood. I know, too, that many +people accuse me of having worn him out with my violent sensuality, +and others accuse me of having driven him to despair by my freaks. +I believe you know how much truth there is in all this. He himself +complains to me that I am killing him by the privations I insist upon, +and I feel certain that I should kill him by acting otherwise."[29] + + +[29] Communicated by M. Rocheblave. + + +It has been said that when Chopin was at Nohant he had a village +girl there as his mistress. We do not care to discuss the truth +of this statement. + + +It is interesting to endeavour to characterize the nature of this episode +in George Sand's sentimental life. She helps us herself in this. +As a romantic writer she neglected nothing which she could turn +into literature. She therefore made an analysis of her own case, +worked out with the utmost care, and published it in one of her +books which is little read now. The year of the rupture was 1847, +and before the rupture had really occurred, George Sand brought +out a novel entitled _Lucrezia Floriani_. In this book she traces +the portrait of Chopin as Prince Karol. She denied, of course, +that it was a portrait, but contemporaries were not to be deceived, +and Liszt gives several passages from _Lucrezia Floriani_ in his +biography of the musician. The decisive proof was that Chopin +recognized himself, and that he was greatly annoyed. + +As a matter of fact, there was nothing disagreeable about this portrait. +The following fragments are taken from it: "Gentle, sensitive, +exquisite in all things, at the age of fifteen he had all the charms +of youth, together with the gravity of a riper age. He remained +delicate in body ind mind. The lack of muscular development caused +him to preserve his fascinating beauty. . . . He was something +like one of those ideal creatures which mediaeval poetry used +for the ornamentation of Christian temples. Nothing could have +been purer and at the same time more enthusiastic than his ideas. +. . . He was always lost in his dreams, and had no sense +of reality. . . ." His exquisite politeness was then described, +and the ultra acuteness and nervosity which resulted in that power +of divination which he possessed. For a portrait to be living, +it must have some faults as well as qualities. His delineator +does not forget to mention the attitude of mystery in which the +Prince took refuge whenever his feelings were hurt. She speaks +also of his intense susceptibility. "His wit was very brilliant," +she says; "it consisted of a kind of subtle mocking shrewdness, +not really playful, but a sort of delicate, bantering gaiety." +It may have been to the glory of Prince Karol to resemble Chopin, +but it was also quite creditable to Chopin to have been the model +from which this distinguished neurasthenic individual was taken. + +Prince Karol meets a certain Lucrezia Floriani, a rich actress +and courtesan. She is six years older than he is, somewhat past +her prime, and now leading a quiet life. She has done with love +and love affairs, or, at least, she thinks so. "The fifteen years +of passion and torture, which she had gone through, seemed to her +now so cruel that she was hoping to have them counted double +by the supreme Dispenser of our trials." It was, of course, +natural that she should acknowledge God's share in the matter. +We are told that "implacable destiny was not satisfied," so that +when Karol makes his first declaration, Lucrezia yields to him, +but at the same time she puts a suitable colouring on her fall. +There are many ways of loving, and it is surely noble and disinterested +in a woman to love a man as his mother. "I shall love him," she says, +kissing the young Prince's pale face ardently, "but it will be as +his mother loved him, just as fervently and just as faithfully. +This maternal affection, etc. . . ." Lucrezia Floriani had a way +of introducing the maternal instinct everywhere. She undertook +to encircle her children and Prince Karol with the same affection, +and her notions of therapeutics were certainly somewhat strange +and venturesome, for she fetched her children to the Prince's bedside. +"Karol breathed more freely," we are told, "when the children +were there. Their pure breath mingling with their mother's made +the air milder and more gentle for his feverish lungs." This we shall +not attempt to dispute. It is the study of the situation, though, +that forms the subject of _Lucrezia Floriani_. George Sand gives +evidence of wonderful clear-sightedness and penetration in the art +of knowing herself. + +She gives us warning that it is "a sad story and sorrowful truth" +that she is telling us. She has herself the better _role_ of the +two naturally. It could not have been on that, account that Chopin' +was annoyed. He was a Pole, and therefore doubly chivalrous, +so that such an objection would have been unworthy of a lover. +What concerns us is that George Sand gives, with great nicety, the, +exact causes of the rupture. In the first place, Karol was jealous +of Lucrezia's stormy past; then his refined nature shrank from +certain of her comrades of a rougher kind. The invalid was irritated +by her robust health, and by the presence and, we might almost say, +the rivalry of the children. Prince Karol finds them nearly always +in his way, and he finally takes a dislike to them. There comes +a moment when Lucrezia sees herself obliged to choose between the two +kinds of maternity, the natural kind and the maternity according +to the convention of lovers. + +The special kind of sentiment, then, between George Sand and Chopin, +Just as between Lucrezia and Prince Karol, was just this: +love with maternal affection. This is extremely difficult to define, +as indeed is everything which is extremely complex. George Sand +declares that her reason for not refusing intimacy with Chopin was +that she considered this in the light of a duty and as a safeguard. +"One duty more," she writes, "in a life already so full, a life +in which I was overwhelmed with fatigue, seemed to me one chance +more of arriving at that austerity towards which I felt myself being +drawn with a kind of religious enthusiasm."[30] + + +[30] _Histoire de via vie._ + + +We can only imagine that she was deceiving herself. To accept +a lover for the sake of giving up lovers altogether seems a somewhat +heroic means to an end, but also somewhat deceptive. It is certainly +true that there was something more in this love than the attraction +she felt for Musset and for Michel. In the various forms and +degrees of our feelings, there is nothing gained by attempting +to establish decided divisions and absolute demarcations for the +sake of classifying them all. Among sentiments which are akin, +but which our language distinguishes when defining them, there may +be some mixture or some confusion with regard to their origin. +Alfred de Vigny gives us in _Samson_, as the origin of love, +even in man, the remembrance of his mother's caresses: + +_Il revera toujours a la chaleur du sein._ + + +It seems, therefore, that we cannot apply the same reasoning, +with regard to love, when referring to the love of a man or of +a woman. With the man there is more pride of possession, and with +the woman there is more tenderness, more pity, more charity. +All this leads us to the conclusion that maternal affection +in love is not an unnatural sentiment, as has so often been said, +or rather a perversion of sentiment. It is rather a sentiment in +which too much instinct and heredity are mingled in a confused way. +The object of the education of feeling is to arrive at discerning +and eliminating the elements which interfere with the integrity of it. +Rousseau called Madame de Warens his mother, but he was a man who was +lacking in good taste. George Sand frequently puts into her novels +this conception of love which we see her put into practice in life. +It is impossible when analyzing it closely not to find something +confused and disturbing in it which somewhat offends us. + +It now remains for us to study what influence George Sand's friendship +with some of the greatest artists of her times had on her works. +Beside Liszt and Chopin, she knew Delacroix, Madame Dorval, +Pauline Viardot, Nourrit and Lablache. Through them she went into +artistic circles. Some of her novels are stories of the life of artists. +_Les Maitres Mosaistes_ treats of the rivalry between two studios. +_La derniere Aldini_ is the story of a handsome gondolier who, +as a tenor, turned the heads of patrician women. The first part of +_Consuelo_ takes us back to the singing schools and theatres of Venice +in the eighteenth century, and introduces us to individuals taken from +life and cleverly drawn. We have Comte Zustiniani, the dilettante, +a wealthy patron of the fine arts; Porpora, the old master, +who looks upon his art as something sacred; Corilla, the prima donna, +annoyed at seeing a new star appear; Anzoleto, the tenor, +who is jealous because he gets less applause than his friend; +and above and beyond all the others Consuelo, good kind Consuelo, +the sympathetic singer. + +The theatres of Venice seem to be very much like those of Paris +and of other places. We have the following sketch of the vanity +of the comedian. "Can a man be jealous of a woman's advantages? +Can a lover dislike his sweetheart to have success? A man can certainly +be jealous of a woman's advantages when that man is a vain artist, +and a lover may hate his sweetheart to have any success if they both +belong to the theatre. A comedian is not a man, Consuelo, but a woman. +He lives on his sickly vanity; he only thinks of satisfying that vanity, +and he works for the sake of intoxicating himself with vanity. +A woman's beauty is apt to take attention from him and a woman's +talent may cause his talent to be thrown in the background. +A woman is his rival, or rather he is the rival of a woman. +He has all the little meannesses, the caprices, the exigences and +the weak points of a coquette." Such is the note of this picture +of things and people in the theatrical world. How can we doubt +its veracity! + +At any rate, the general idea that George Sand had of the artist +was exactly the idea adopted by romanticism. We all know +what a being set apart and free from all social and moral laws, +what a "monster" romanticism made of the artist. It is one +of its dogmas that the necessities of art are incompatible +with the conditions of a regular life. An artist, for instance, +cannot be _bourgeois_, as he is the exact opposite. We have +Kean's speech in Dumas' drama, entitled _Kean, or Disorder and Genius._ + +"An actor," he says, "must know all the passions, so that he may express +them as he should. I study them in myself." And then he adds: +"That is what you call, orderly! And what is to become of genius +while I am being orderly?" + +All this is absurd. The artist is not the man who has felt the most, +but the man best gifted for imagining the various states of mind +and feeling and for expressing them. We know, too, that an +irregular life is neither the origin nor the stamp of extraordinary +intellectual worth. All the cripples of Bohemian life prove +to us that genius is not the outcome of that kind of life, +but that, on the contrary, such life is apt to paralyze talent. +It is very convenient, though, for the artist and for every other +variety of "superior beings" to make themselves believe that ordinary +morals are not for them. The best argument we can have against +this theory is the case of George Sand. The artist, in her case, +was eminently a very regular and hard-working _bourgeois_ woman. + + +The art in which George Sand gave evidence of the surest taste was music. +That is worthy of notice. In one of her _Lettres d'un voyageur_, +she celebrates Liszt attacking the _Dies irae_ on the Fribourg organ. +She devotes another letter to the praise of Meyer-beer. She has analyzed +the different forms of musical emotion in several of her books. +One of the ideas dear to romanticism was that of the union and fusion +of all the arts. The writer can, and in a certain way he ought, +to produce with words the same effects that the painter does +with colours and the sculptor with lines. We all know how much +literature romantic painters and sculptors have put into their art. +The romantic writers were less inclined to accord the same welcome +to music as to the plastic arts. Theophile Gautier is said +to have exclaimed that music was "the most disagreeable and the +dearest of all the arts." Neither Lamartine, Hugo, nor any other +of the great writers of that period was influenced by music. +Musset was the first one to be impassioned by it, and this may have +been as much through his dandyism as from conviction. + + + +_Fille de la douleur, Harmonie, Harmonie, + +Langue que fiour l'amour invents le ginie, + +Qui nous viens d'Italie, et qui lui vins des cieux, + +Douce langue du coeur, la seule ou la pensiee, + +Cette vierge craintive et d'une ombre ofensie, + +Passe en gardant son voile et sans craindre les eux, + +Qui sait ce qu'un enfant peut entendre et peut dire + +Dans tes soupirs divins nes de l'air qu'il respire, + +Tristes comme son coeur et doux comme sa voix?_ + +George Sand, who agreed with Musset, claimed for "the most beautiful +of all the arts," the honour of being able to paint "all the shades +of sentiment and all the phases of passion." "Music," she says, +"can express everything. For describing scenes of nature it +has ideal colours and lines, neither exact nor yet too minute, +but which are all the more vaguely and delightfully poetical."[31] + + +[31] Eleventh _Lettre d'un voyageur_: To Giacomo Meyerbeer. + + +As examples of music in literature we have George Sand's phrase, +more lyrical and musical than picturesque. We have, too, the gentle, +soothing strophes of Sully Prudhomme and the vague melody of the +Verlaine songs: "_De la musique avant toute chose_." It would +be absurd to exaggerate the influence exercised by George Sand, +and to attribute to her an importance which does not belong to her, +over poetical evolution. It is only fair to say, though, that music, +which was looked upon suspiciously for so long a time by classical +writers of sane and sure taste, has completely invaded our present +society, so that we are becoming more and more imbued with it. +George Sand's predilection for modern art is another feature which +makes her one of us, showing that her tendencies were very marked +for things of the present day. + + + + +VII + +THE HUMANITARIAN DREAM + +PIERRE LEROUX--SOCIALISTIC NOVELS + + +Hitherto we have seen George Sand put into her work her sufferings, +her protests as a woman, and her dreams as an artist. But the +nineteenth-century writer did not confine his ambitions to this +modest task. He belonged to a corporation which counted among its +members Voltaire and Rousseau. The eighteenth-century philosophers +had changed the object of literature. Instead of an instrument +of analysis, they had made of it a weapon for combat, an incomparable +weapon for attacking institutions and for overthrowing governments. +The fact is, that from the time of the Restoration we shall scarcely +meet with a single writer, from the philosopher to the vaudevillist, +and from the professor to the song-maker, who did not wish to act +as a torch on the path of humanity. Poets make revolutions, and show +Plato how wrong he was in driving them away from his Republic. +Sophocles was appointed a general at Athens for having written +a good tragedy, and so novelists, dramatists, critics and makers +of puns devoted themselves to making laws. George Sand was too +much a woman of her times to keep aloof from such a movement. +We shall now have to study her in her socialistic _role_. + +We can easily imagine on what side her sympathies were. She had +always been battling with institutions, and it seemed to her +that institutions were undoubtedly in the wrong. She had proved +that there was a great deal of suffering in the world, and as human +nature is good at bottom, she decided that society was all wrong. +She was a novelist, and she therefore considered that the most +satisfactory solutions are those in which imagination and feeling +play a great part. She also considered that the best politics +are those which are the most like a novel. We must now follow her, +step by step, along the various roads leading to Utopia. +The truth is, that in that great manufactory of systems and that +storehouse of panaceas which the France of Louis-Philippe had become, +the only difficulty was to choose between them all. + +The first, in date, of the new gospels was that of the Saint-Simonians. +When George Sand arrived in Paris, Saint-Simonism was one of the +curiosities offered to astonished provincials. It was a parody +of religion, but it was organized in a church with a Father +in two persons, Bazard and Enfantin. The service took place +in a _bouis-bouis_. The costume worn consisted of white trousers, +a red waistcoat and a blue tunic. On the days when the Father came +down from the heights of Menilmontant with his children, there was +great diversion for the people in the street. An important thing +was lacking in the organization of the Saint-Simonians. In order +to complete the "sacerdotal couple," a woman was needed to take her +place next the Father. A Mother was asked for over and over again. +It was said that she would soon appear, but she was never forthcoming. +Saint-Simon had tried to tempt Madame de Stael. + +"I am an extraordinary man," he said to her, "and you are just as +extraordinary as a woman. You and I together would have a still +more extraordinary child." Madame de Stael evidently did not care +to take part in the manufacture of this prodigy. When George Sand's +first novels appeared, the Saint-Simonians were full of hope. +This was the woman they had been waiting for, the free woman, +who having meditated on the lot of her sisters would formulate +the Declaration of the rights and duties of woman. Adolphe Gueroult +was sent to her. He was the editor of the _Opinion nationale_. +George Sand had a great fund of common sense, though, and once more +the little society awaited the Mother in vain. It was finally decided +that she should be sought for in the East. A mission was organized, +and messengers were arrayed in white, as a sign of the vow of chastity, +with a pilgrim's staff in their hand. They begged as they went along, +and slept sometimes outdoors, but more often at the police-station. +George Sand was not tempted by this kind of maternity, but she kept +in touch with the Saint-Simonians. She was present at one of their +meetings at Menilmontant. Her published _Corrspondance_ contains +a letter addressed by her to the Saint-Simonian family in Paris. +As a matter of fact, she had received from it, on the 1st +of January, 1836, a large collection of presents. There were in all +no less than fifty-nine articles, among which were the following: +a dress-box, a pair of boots, a thermometer, a carbine-carrier, +a pair of trousers and a corset. + +Saint-Simonism was universally jeered at, but it is quite a mistake +to think that ridicule is detrimental in France. On the contrary, +it is an excellent means of getting anything known and of +spreading the knowledge of it abroad; it is in reality a force. +Saint-Simonism is at the root of many of the humanitarian doctrines +which were to spring up from its ashes. One of its essential +doctrines was the diffusion of the soul throughout all humanity, +and another that of being born anew. Enfantin said: "I can +feel St. Paul within me. He lives within me." Still another +of its doctrines was that of the rehabilitation of the flesh. +Saint-Simonism proclaimed the equality of man and woman, that of +industry and art and science, and the necessity of a fresh repartition +of wealth and of a modification of the laws concerning property. +It also advocated increasing the attributions of the State considerably. +It was, in fact, the first of the doctrines offering to the +lower classes, by way of helping them to bear their wretched misery, +the ideal of happiness here below, lending a false semblance +of religion to the desire for material well-being. George Sand +had one vulnerable point, and that was her generosity. By making +her believe that she was working for the outcasts of humanity, +she could be led anywhere, and this was what happened. + +Among other great minds affected by the influence of Saint-Simonism, +it is scarcely surprising to find Lamennais. When George Sand first +knew him, he was fifty-three years of age. He had broken with Rome, +and was the apocalyptic author of _Paroles d'un croyant_. He put +into his revolutionary faith all the fervour of his loving soul, +a soul that had been created for apostleship, and to which the +qualification of "a disaffected cathedral" certainly applied. + +After the famous trial, Liszt took him to call on George Sand in +her attic. This was in 1835. She gives us the following portrait +of him: "Monsieur de Lamennais is short, thin, and looks ill. +He seems to have only the feeblest breath of life in his body, +but how his face beams. His nose is too prominent for his small +figure and for his narrow face. If it were not for this nose out of +all proportion, he would be handsome. He was very easily entertained. +A mere nothing made him laugh, and how heartily he laughed."[32] +It was the gaiety of the seminarist, for Monsieur Feli always +remained the _Abbe_ de Lamennais. George Sand had a passionate +admiration for him. She took his side against any one who +attacked him in her third _Lettre d'un voyageur_, in her _Lettre +a Lerminier_, and in her article on _Amshaspands et Darvands_. +This is the title of a book by Lamennais. The extraordinary names +refer to the spirits of good and evil in the mythology of Zoroaster. +George Sand proposed to pronounce them _Chenapans et Pedants_. +Although she had a horror of journalism, she agreed to write +in Lamennais' paper, _Le Monde._ + + +[32] _Histoire de ma vie._ + + +"He is so good and I like him so much," she writes, "that I would +give him as much of my blood and of my ink as he wants."[33] She +did not have to give him any of her blood, and he did not accept +much of her ink. She commenced publishing her celebrated _Lettres +a Marcie_ in _Le Monde_. We have already spoken of these letters, +in order to show how George Sand gradually attenuated the harshness +of her early feminism. + + +[33] _Correspondance_: To Jules Janin, February 15, 1837. + + +These letters alarmed Lamennais, nevertheless, and she was obliged +to discontinue them. Feminism was the germ of their disagreement. +Lamennais said: "She does not forgive St. Paul for having said: +`Wives, obey your husbands.'" She continued to acknowledge +him as "one of our saints," but "the father of our new Church" +gradually broke away from her and her friends, and expressed his +opinion about her with a severity and harshness which are worthy +of note. + +Lamennais' letters to Baron de Vitrolles contain many allusions +to George Sand, and they are most uncomplimentary. + + + + +"I hear no more about Carlotta" (Madame Marliani), he writes, +"nor about George Sand and Madame d'Agoult. I know there has +been a great deal of quarrelling among them. They are as fond +of each other as Lesage's two _diables_, one of whom said: +`That reconciled us, we kissed each other, and ever since then we +have been mortal enemies.'" He also tells that there is a report +that in her novel, entitled _Horace_, she has given as unflattering +a portrait as possible of her dear, sweet, excellent friend, +Madame d'Agoult, the _Arabella_ of the _Lettres d'un voyageur_. +"The portraits continue," he writes, "all true to life, without being +like each other." In the same book, _Horace_, there is a portrait +of Mallefille, who was beloved "during one quarter of the moon," +and abhorred afterwards. He concludes the letter with the following +words: "Ah, how fortunate I am to be forgotten by those people! +I am not afraid of their indifference, but I should be afraid +of their attentions. . . . Say what you like, my dear friend, +those people do not tempt me at all. Futility and spitefulness +dissolved in a great deal of _ennui_, is a bad kind of medicine." +He then goes on to make fun, in terms that it is difficult to quote, +of the silly enthusiasm of a woman like Marliani, and even of +George Sand, for the theories of Pierre Leroux, of which they did +not understand the first letter, but which had taken their fancy. +George Sand may have looked upon Lamennais as a master, but it is very +evident that she was not his favoured disciple. + +It was due to his teaching that George Sand obtained her definite +ideas about Catholicism, or rather against it. She was decidedly +its adversary, because she held that the Church had stifled the spirit +of liberty, that it had thrown a veil over the words of Christ, +and that it was the obstacle in the way of holy equality. +What she owed specially, though, to Lamennais was another lesson, +of quite another character. Lamennais was the man of the nineteenth +century who waged the finest battle against individualism, +against "the scandal of the adoration of man by man."[34] + + +[34] Compare Brunetiere, _Evolution de la poesie lyrique_, +vol. i. p. 310. + + +Under his influence, George Sand began to attach less importance +to the personal point of view, she ceased applying everything +to herself, and she discovered the importance of the life of others. +If we study this attentively, we shall see that a new phase now +commenced in the history of her ideas. Lamennais was the origin +of this transformation, although it is personified in another man, +and that other man, was named Pierre Leroux. + +What a strange mystery it is, among so many other mysteries, +that of one mind taking possession of another mind. We have come +into contact with great minds which have made no impression on us, +whilst other minds, of secondary intelligence, perhaps, and it may +be inferior to our own, have governed us. + +By the side of a Lamennais, this Pierre Leroux was a very +puny personage. He had been a compositor in a printing works, +before founding the _Globe_. This paper, in his hands, +was to become an organ of Saint-Simonism. He belonged neither +to the _bourgeois_ nor to the working-class. He was Clumsy, +not well built, and had an enormous shock of hair, which was the joy +of caricaturists. He was shy and awkward, in addition to all this. +He nevertheless appeared in various _salons_, and was naturally +more or less ridiculous. In January, 1840, Beranger writes: +"You must know that our metaphysician has surrounded himself with women, +at the head of whom are George Sand and Marliani, and that, in gilded +drawing-rooms, under the light of chandeliers, he exposes his +religious principles and his muddy boots." George Sand herself made +fun of this occasionally. In a letter to Madame d'Agoult, she writes: + +"He is very amusing when he describes making his appearance in your +drawing-room of the Rue Laffitte. He says: `I was all muddy, +and quite ashamed of myself. I was keeping out of sight as much +as possible in a corner. _This lady_ came to me and talked +in the kindest way possible. She is very beautiful.'"[35] + + +[35] _Correspondance_: To Madame d'Agoult, October 16, 1837/. + + +There are two features about him, then, which seem to strike +every one, his unkemptness and his shyness. He expressed his ideas, +which were already obscure, in a form which seemed to make them +even more obscure. It has been said wittily that when digging +out his ideas, he buried himself in them.[36] Later on, when he +spoke at public meetings, he was noted for the nonsense he talked +in his interminable and unintelligible harangues. + + +[36] P. Thureau-Dangin, _Histoire de la Monarchie de Juillet._ + + +And yet, in spite of all this, the smoke from this mind attracted +George Sand, and became her pillar of light moving on before her. +His hazy philosophy seemed to her as clear as daylight, it appealed to +her heart and to her mind, solved her doubts, and gave her tranquillity, +strength, faith, hope and a patient and persevering love of humanity. +It seems as though, with that marvellous faculty that she had for +idealizing always, she manufactured a Pierre Leroux of her own, +who was finer than the real one. He was needy, but poverty becomes +the man who has ideas. He was awkward, but the contemplative man, +on coming down from the region of thought on to our earth once more, +only gropes along. He was not clear, but Voltaire tells us that when +a man does not understand his own words, he is talking metaphysics. +Chopin had personified the artist for her; Pierre Leroux, with his +words as entangled as his hair, figured now to her as the philosopher. +She saw in him the chief and the master. _Tu duca e tu maestro_. + +In February, 1844, she wrote the following extraordinary lines: +"I must tell you that George Sand is only a pale reflection +of Pierre Leroux, a fanatical disciple of the same ideal, +but a disciple mute and fascinated when listening to his words, +and quite prepared to throw all her own works into the fire, +in order to write, talk, think, pray and act under his inspiration. +I am merely the popularizer, with a ready pen and an impressionable mind, +and I try to translate, in my novels, the philosophy of the master." + + +The most extraordinary part about these lines is that they were +absolutely true. The whole secret of the productions of George +Sand for the next ten years is contained in these words. +With Pierre Leroux and Louis Viardot she now founded a review, +_La Revue independante_, in which she could publish, not only novels +(beginning with _Horace_, which Buloz had refused), but articles +by which philosophical-socialistic ideas could have a free course. +Better still than this, the novelist could take the watchword from +the sociologist. just as Mascarilla put Roman history into madrigals, +she was able to put Pierre Leroux's philosophy into novels. + +It would be interesting to know what she saw in Pierre Leroux, +and which of his ideas she approved and preferred. One of the ideas +dear to Pierre Leroux was that of immortality, but an immortality +which had very little in common with Christianity. According to it, +we should live again after death, but in humanity and in another world. +The idea of metempsychosis was very much in vogue at this epoch. +According to Jean Rcynaud and Lamennais, souls travelled from star +to star, but Pierre Leroux believed in metempsychosis on earth. + +"We are not only the children and the posterity +of those who have already lived, but we are, at bottom, +the anterior generations themselves. We have gone +through former existences which we do not remember, +but it may be that at times we have fragmentary +reminiscences of them." + +George Sand must have been very deeply impressed by this idea. +It inspired her with _Sept cordes de la lyre_, _Spiridion_, +_Consuelo_ and the _Comtesse de Rudolstadt_, the whole cycle +of her philosophical novels. + +The _Sept cordes de la lyre_ is a dramatic poem after the manner +of _Faust_. Maitre Albertus is the old doctor conversing +with Mephistocles. He has a ward, named Helene, and a lyre. +A spirit lives in this lyre. It is all in vain that the painter, +the _maestro_, the poet, the critic endeavour to make the cords vibrate. +The lyre remains dumb. Helene, even without putting her hands on it, +can draw from it magnificent harmony; Helene is mad. All this +may seem very incomprehensible to you, and I must confess that it +is so to me. Albertus himself declares: "This has a poetical +sense of a very high order perhaps, but it seems vague to me." +Personally, I am of the same opinion as Albertus. With a little effort, +I might, like any one else, be able to give you an interpretation +of this logogriph, which might appear to have something in it. +I prefer telling you frankly that I do not understand it. +The author, perhaps, did not understand it much better so that it +may have been metaphysics. + +I would call your attention, though, to that picture of Helene, +with the magic lyre in her hand, risking her life, by climbing to the +spire of the steeple and uttering her inspiring speech from there. +Is not this something like Solness, the builder, from the top +of his tower? Like Tolstoi, Ibsen had evidently read George Sand +and had not forgotten her. + +_Spiridion_ introduces us into a strange convent, in which we see +the portraits come out of their frames and roam about the cloisters. +The founder of the convent, Hebronius, lives again in the person +of Father Alexis, who is no other than Leroux. + +In _Consuelo_ we have the same imagination. We have already +considered the first part of this novel, that which takes place +at Venice, in the schools of music and in the theatres of song. +Who would have thought that the charming diva, the pupil of Porpora, +was to have such strange adventures? She arrives in Bohemia, +at the Chateau of Rudolstadt. She has been warned that extraordinary +things take place there. Comte Albert de Rudolstadt is subject to +nervous fits and to great lethargy. He disappears from the chateau +and then reappears, without any one seeing him go in or out. +He believes that he has been Jean Ziska, and this is probably true. +He has been present at events which took place three hundred +years previously, and he describes them. Consuelo discovers +Albert's retreat. It is a cavern hollowed out of a mountain in +the vicinity, which communicates, by means of a well, with his rooms. +The Chateau of Rudolstadt is built on the same architectural plan +as Anne Radcliffe's chateau. After staying for some time in this +bewildering place, Consuelo sets forth once more. She now meets Haydn, +goes through the Bohmer Wald with him, arrives in Venice, is introduced +to Maria Theresa, and is engaged at the Imperial Theatre. She is now +recalled to the Chateau of Rudolstadt. Albert is on his deathbed, +and he marries her _in extremis_, after telling her that he is +going to leave her for a time, but that he shall return to her on +earth by a new birth. He, too, had evidently read Pierre Leroux, +and it was perhaps that which had caused his illness. + +_Consuelo_ is a novel of adventures after the style of _Gil Blas_, +the _Vie de Marianne_, and _Wilkelm Meister_. It is a historical novel, +for which we have Joseph Haydn, Maria Theresa, Baron Trenk, +and the whole history of the Hussites. It is a fantastical story with +digressions on music and on popular songs, but running through it all, +with the persistency of a fixed idea, are divagations on the subject +of earthly metempsychosis. Such, then, is this incongruous story, +odd and exaggerated, but with gleams of light and of great beauty, +the reading of which is apt to leave one weary and disturbed. + +We meet with Consuelo again in another book. In those days, +it was not enough for a novel to consist of several volumes. +People liked a sequel also. _Vingt ans apres_ was the sequel to +_Trois Mousquetaires_, and the _Vicomte de Bragelonne_ was a sequel +to that sequel. Our grandparents were capable of allowing themselves +to be bored to a degree which makes us ashamed of our frivolity. +The _Comtesse de Rudolstadt_ was the sequel to _Consuelo_. As time +went on, Pierre Leroux called George Sand's attention to the study +of freemasonry. In 1843, she declared that she was plunged in it, +and that it was a gulf of nonsense and uncertainties, in which "she +was dabbling courageously." + +"I am up to my ears in freemasonry," she writes. "I cannot get +away from the kaddosh, the Rose Croix and the Sublime Scotchman. +The result of all this will be a mysterious novel." The mysterious +novel was the _Comtesse de Rudolstadt_. Consuelo, who through her +marriage with Albert is now Comtesse de Rudolstadt, continues her +European tour. She reaches Berlin, and we find her at the Court +of Frederick II. We now have Voltaire, La Mettrie, the Sans-Souci +suppers, Cagliostro, Saint-Germain and the occult sciences. +Frederick II sends Consuelo to prison. There appears to be no +reason for this, unless it be that in order to escape she must +first have been imprisoned. Some mysterious rescuers take a great +interest in Consuelo, and transport her to a strange dwelling, +where she has a whole series of surprises. It is, in fact, a sort +of Palace of Illusions. She is first in a dark room, and she then +finds herself suddenly in a room of dazzling light. "At the far +end of this room, the whole aspect of which is very forbidding, +she distinguishes seven personages, wrapped in red cloaks and wearing +masks of such livid whiteness that they looked like corpses. +They were all seated behind a table of black marble. Just in +front of the table, and on a lower seat, was an eighth spectre. +He was dressed in black, and he, too, wore a white mask. By the wall, +on each side of the room, were about twenty men in black cloaks +and masks. There was the most profound silence. Consuelo turned +round and saw that there were also black phantoms behind her. +At each door there were two of them standing up, each holding a huge, +bright sword."[37] + + +[37] _Comtesse de Rudolstadt._ + + +She wondered whether she had reached the infernal regions, +but she discovered that she was in the midst of a secret society, +styled the Invisibles. Consuelo is to go through all the various +stages of the initiation. She first puts on the bridal dress, +and after this the widow's weeds. She undergoes all the various trials, +and has to witness the different spectacles provided for her edification, +including coffins, funeral palls, spectres and simulated tortures. +The description of all the various ceremonies takes up about half +of the book. George Sand's object was to show up this movement of +secret societies, which was such a feature of the eighteenth century, +and which was directed both against monarchical power and against +the Church. It contributed to prepare the way for the Revolution, +and gave to this that international character and that mystic allure +which would otherwise have been incomprehensible. + + +From _Spiridion_ to the _Comtesse de Rudolstadt_, then, we have this +series of fantastical novels with ghosts, subterranean passages, +secret hiding-places, + + + + +hallucinations and apparitions. The unfortunate part is that +at present we scarcely know to what category of readers they +would appeal. As regards grown-up people, we all prefer something +with a vestige of truth in it now-a-days. As to our children, +they would prefer _Monte-Cristo_ to _Consuelo_, and _Tom Thumb_ +to _Spiridion_. At the time that they were written, in spite +of the fact that Buloz protested against all this philosophy, +these novels were quite in accordance with the public taste. +A mania for anything fantastic had taken possession of the most +serious people. Ballanche wrote his _La Palingenesie_, and Edgar +Quinet _Ahasverus_. Things took place through the ages, and the +reader travelled through the immensity of the centuries, just as +though Wells had already invented his machine for exploring time. +In a country like France, where clear-mindedness and matter-of-fact +intelligence are appreciated, all this seems surprising. It was +no doubt the result of infiltrations which had come from abroad. +There was something wrong with us just then, "something rotten +in the kingdom of France." We see this by that fever of socialistic +doctrines which burst forth among us about the year 1840. +We have the _Phalanstere_ by Fourier, _La Phalange_ by Considerant, +the _Icarie_ by Cabet, and his famous _Voyage_, which appeared +that very year. We were always to be devoured by the State, +accompanied by whatever sauce we preferred. The State was always to +find us shelter, to dress us, to govern us and to tyrannize over us. +There was the State as employer, the State as general storekeeper, +the State to feed us; all this was a dream of bliss. Buonarotti, +formerly Babeuf's accomplice, preached Communism. Louis Blanc +published his _Organisation du travail_, in which he calls to his +aid a political revolution, foretaste of a social revolution. +Proudhon published his _Memoire sur la propriete_, containing the +celebrated phrase: "Property means theft." He declared himself +an anarchist, and as a matter of fact anarchy was already everywhere. +A fresh evil had suddenly made its appearance, and, by a cruel irony, +it was the logical consequence of that industrial development +of which the century was so proud. The result of all that wealth +had been to create a new form of misery, an envious, jealous form +of misery, much more cruel than the former one, for it filled +the heart with a ferment of hatred, a passion for destruction. + +It was Pierre Leroux, also, who led George Sand on to Socialism. +She had been on the way to it by herself. For a long time she had +been raising an altar in her heart to that entity called the People, +and she had been adorning it with all the virtues. The future +belonged to the people, the whole of the future, and first of all +that of literature. + +Poetry was getting a little worn out, but to restore its freshness +there were the poets of the people. Charles Poncy, of Toulon, +a bricklayer, published a volume of poetry, in 1842, entitled _Marines_. +George Sand adopted him. He was the demonstration of her theory, +the example which illustrated her dream. She congratulated him +and encouraged him. "You are a great poet," she said to him, and she +thereupon speaks of him to all her friends. "Have you read Baruch?" +she asks them. "Have you read Poncy, a poet bricklayer of twenty years +of age?" She tells every one about his book, dwells on its beauties, +and asks people to speak of it. + +As a friend of George Sand, I have examined the poems by Poncy of +which she specially speaks. The first one is entitled _Meditation +sur les toits_. The poet has been obliged to stay on the roof +to complete his work, and while there he meditates. + +_"Le travail me retient bien tard sur ces toitures_. . . ." + +He then begins to wonder what he would see if, like Asmodee +in the _Diable boiteux_, he could have the roof taken off, +so that the various rooms could be exposed to view. Alas! he +would not always find the concord of the Golden Age. + + _Que de fois contemolant cet amas de maisons + Quetreignent nos remparts couronnes de gazons, + Et ces faubourgs naissants que la ville trop pleine + Pour ses enfants nouveaux eleve dans la plaine. + Immobiles troufieaux ou notre clocher gris + Semble un patre au milieu de ses blanches brebis, + Jai pense que, malgre notre angoisse et nos peines, + Sous ces toits paternels il existait des haines, + Et que des murs plus forts que ces murs mitoyens + Separent ici-bas les coeurs des citoyens._ + + +This was an appeal to concord, and all brothers of humanity were +invited to rally to the watchword. + +The intention was no doubt very good. Then, too, _murs mitoyens_ +was an extremely rich and unexpected rhyme for _citoyens_. +This was worthy indeed of a man of that party. + +Another of the poems greatly admired by George Sand was _Le Forcat_. + + _Regarder le forcat sur la poutre equarrie + Poser son sein hale que le remords carie_. . . + + +Certainly if Banville were to lay claim to having invented rhymes +that are puns, we could only say that he was a plagiarist after +reading Charles Poncy. + +In another poem addressed to the rich, entitled _L'hiver_, the poet +notices with grief that the winter + + . . . _qui remplit les salons, les Wdtres, + Remplit aussi la Morgue et les amphitheatres._ + + +He is afraid that the people will, in the end, lose their patience, +and so he gives to the happy mortals on this earth the following counsel: + + _Riches, a vos plaisirs faites participer + L'homme que les malheurs s'acharnent a frapper + Oh, faites travailler le pere de famille, + Pour qu'il puisse arbiter la pudeur de sa fille, + Pourqu'aux petits enfants maigris par les douleurs + Il rapporte, le soir, le pain et non des pleurs, + Afin que son epouse, au desespoir en proie, + Se ranime a sa vue et l'embrasse avec joie, + Afin qua l'Eternel, a l'heure de sa mort. + Vous n'offriez pas un coeur carie de remords_. + + +The expression certainly leaves much to be desired in these poems, +but they are not lacking in eloquence. We had already had something +of this kind, though, written by a poet who was not a bricklayer. +He, too, had asked the rich the question following: + + _Dans vos fetes d'hiver, riches, heureux du monde, + Quand le bal tournoyant de ses feux vous inonde. . . + Songez-vous qu'il est la, sous le givre et la neige, + Ce pere sans travail que la famine assiege?_ + + +He advises them to practise charity, the sister of prayer. + + +_Donnez afin qu'un jour, a votre derniere heure, + +Contre tous vos peches vous ayez la Priere + +D'un mendiant puissant au ciel_." + + +We cannot, certainly, expect Poncy to be a Victor Hugo. But as we +had Victor Hugo's verses, of what use was it for them to be rewritten +by Poncy? My reason for quoting a few of the fine lines from +_Feuilles d'automne_ is that I felt an urgent need of clearing away +all these platitudes. Poncy was not the only working-man poet. +Other trades produced their poets too. The first poem in _Marines_ +is addressed to Durand, a poet carpenter, who introduces himself +as "_Enfant de la foret qui ceint Fontainebleau_." + +This man handled the plane and the lyre, just as Poncy did +the trowel and the lyre. + +This poetry of the working-classes was to give its admirers plenty +of disappointment. George Sand advised Poncy to treat the things +connected with his trade, in his poetry. "Do not try to put on other +men's clothes, but let us see you in literature with the plaster +on your hands which is natural to you and which interests us," +she said to him. + +Proud of his success with the ladies of Paris, Poncy wanted to wash +his hands, put on a coat, and go into society. It was all in vain +that George Sand beseeched Poncy to remain the poet of humanity. +She exposed to him the dogma of impersonality in such fine terms, +that more than one _bourgeois_ poet might profit by what she said. + +"An individual," she said, "who poses as a poet, as a pure artist, +as a god like most of our great men do, whether they be _bourgeois_ +or aristocrats, soon tires us with his personality. . . . Men are +only interested in a man when that man is interested in humanity." + +This was all of no use, though, for Poncy was most anxious to +treat other subjects rather more lively and--slightly libertine. +His literary godmother admonished him. + +"You are dedicating to _Juana l'Espagnole_ and to various other fantastical +beauties verses that I do not approve. Are you a _bourgeois_ poet +or a poet of the people? If the former, you can sing in honour +of all the voluptuousness and all the sirens of the universe, +without ever having known either. You can sup with the most +delicious houris or with all the street-walkers, in your poems, +without ever leaving your fireside or having seen any greater beauty +than the nose of your hall-porter. These gentlemen write their +poetry in this way, and their rhyming is none the worse for it. +But if you are a child of the people and the poet of the people, +you ought not to leave the chaste breast of Desiree, in order to run +about after dancing-girls and sing about their voluptuous arms."[38] + +[38] See the letters addressed to Charles Poncy in the _Correspondance._ + + +It is to be hoped that Poncy returned to the chaste Desiree. +But why should he not read to the young woman the works of +Pierre Leroux? We need a little gaiety in our life. In George +Sand's published _Correspondance_, we only have a few of her letters +to Charles Poncy. They are all in excellent taste. There is an +immense correspondence which M. Rocheblave will publish later on. +This will be a treat for us, and it will no doubt prove that there +was a depth of immense candour in the celebrated authoress. + +It does not seem to me that the writings of the working-men poets +have greatly enriched French literature. Fortunately George +Sand's sympathy with the people found its way into literature +in another way, and this time in a singularly interesting way. +She did not get the books written by the people themselves, +but she put the people into books. This was the plan announced +by George Sand in her preface to the _Compagnon du tour de France_. +There is an entirely fresh literature to create, she writes, +"with the habits and customs of the people, as these are so little +known by the other classes." The _Compagnon du tour de France_ +was the first attempt at this new literature of the people. +George Sand had obtained her documents for this book from a little +work which had greatly struck her, entitled _Livre du compagnonnage_, +written by Agricol Perdiguier, surnamed Avignonnais-la-Vertu, +who was a _compagnon_ carpenter. Agricol Perdiguier informs us +that the _Compagnons_ were divided into three chief categories: +the _Gavots_, the _Devorants_ and the _Drilles_, or the _Enfants +de Salomon_, the _Enlants de Maitre Jacques_ and the _Enfants +du_ _Pere Soubise_. He then describes the rites of this order. +When two _Compagnons_ met, their watchword was "_Tope_." +After this they asked each other's trade, and then they went to drink +a glass together. If a _Compagnon_ who was generally respected +left the town, the others gave him what was termed a "conduite +en regle." If it was thought that he did not deserve this, +he had a "conduite de Grenoble." Each _Compagnon_ had a surname, +and among such surnames we find _The Prudence of Draguignan_, +_The Flower of Bagnolet_ and _The Liberty of Chateauneuf_. +The unfortunate part was that among the different societies, +instead of the union that ought to have reigned, there were rivalries, +quarrels, fights, and sometimes all this led to serious skirmishes; +Agricol Perdiguier undertook to preach to the different societies +peace and tolerance. He went about travelling through France +with this object in view. His second expedition was-at George +Sand's expense. + +A fresh edition of his book contained the letters of approval addressed +to him by those who approved his campaign. Among these signatures +are the following: Nantais-Pret-a-bien-faire, Bourgignonla-Felicite, +Decide-le-Briard. All this is a curious history of the syndicates +of the nineteenth century. Agricol Perdiguier may have seen +the _Confederation du Travail_ dawning in the horizon. + +In the _Compagnon du Tour de France_, Pierre Huguenin, a carpenter, +travels about among all these different societies of the _Compagnonnage_, +and lets us see something of their competition, rivalries, battles, etc. +He is then sent for to the Villepreux Chateau, to do some work. +The noble Yseult falls in love with this fine-talking carpenter, +and at once begs him to make her happy by marrying her. + +In the _Meunier d'Angibault_ it is a working locksmith, Henri Lemor, +who falls in love with Marcelle de BIanchemont. Born to wealth, +she regrets that she is not the daughter or the mother of workingmen. +Finally, however, she loses her fortune, and rejoices in this event. +The personage who stands out in relief in this novel is the miller, +Grand Louis. He is always gay and contented, with a smile on his lips, +singing lively songs and giving advice to every one. + +In the _Peche de M. Antoine_, the _role_ of Grand Louis falls to +Jean the carpenter. In this story all the people are communists, +with the exception of the owner of the factory, who, in consequence, +is treated with contempt. His son Emile marries the daughter +of Monsieur Antoine. Her name is Gilberte, and a silly old man, +the Marquis de Boisguilbaut, leaves her all his money, +on condition that the young couple found a colony of agriculturists +in which there shall be absolute communism. All these stories, +full of eloquence and dissertations on the misfortune of being rich +and the corrupting influence of wealth, would be insufferable, +if it were not for the fact that the Angibault mill were in the +Black Valley, and the crumbling chateau, belonging to Monsieur Antoine, +on the banks of the Creuse. + +They are very poor novels, and it would be a waste of time to attempt +to defend them. They are not to be despised, though, as regards +their influence on the rest of George Sand's work, and also as +regards the history of the French novel. They rendered great +service to George Sand, inasmuch as they helped her to come out of +herself and to turn her attention to the miseries of other people, +instead of dwelling all the time on her own. The miseries she now saw +were more general ones, and consequently more worthy of interest. +In the history of the novel they are of capital importance, +as they are the first ones to bring into notice, by making +them play a part, people of whom novelists had never spoken. +Before Eugene Sue and before Victor Hugo, George Sand gives a _role_ +to a mason, a carpenter and a joiner. We see the working-class +come into literature in these novels, and this marks an era. + +As to their socialistic influence, it is supposed by many people +that they had none. The kind of socialism that consists of making +tinkers marry marchionesses, and duchesses marry zinc-workers, +seems very childish and very feminine. It is just an attempt at +bringing about the marriage of classes. This socialistic preaching, +by means of literature, cannot be treated so lightly, though, as it +is by no means harmless. It is, on the contrary, a powerful means +of diffusing doctrines to which it lends the colouring of imagination, +and for which it appeals to the feelings. George Sand propagated +the humanitarian dream among a whole category of men and women who +read her books. But for her, they would probably have turned a deaf +ear to the inducements held out to them with regard to this Utopia. +Lamartine with his _Girondins_ reconciled the _bourgeois_ classes +to the idea of the Revolution. In both cases the effect was the same, +and it is just this which literature does in affairs of this kind. +Its _role_ consists here in creating a sort of snobbism, +and this snobbism, created by literature in favour of all the +elements of social destruction, continues to rage at present. +We still see men smiling indulgently and stupidly at doctrines +of revolt and anarchy, which they ought to repudiate, not because +of their own interest, but because it is their duty to repudiate +them with all the strength of their own common sense and rectitude. +Instead of any arguments, we have facts to offer. All this was +in 1846, and the time was now drawing near when George Sand was +to see those novels of hers actually taking place in the street, +so that she could throw down to the rioters the bulletins that she +wrote in their honour. + + + + +VIII + +1848 + +GEORGE SAND AND THE PROVISIONAL GOVERNMENT-- + +HER PASTORAL NOVELS + + +IN 1846, George Sand published _Le Peche de M. Antoine_. +It was a very dull story of a sin, for sins are not always amusing. +The same year, though, she published _La Mare au Diable_. +People are apt to say, when comparing the socialistic novels and +the pastoral novels by George Sand, that the latter are superb, +because they are the result of a conception of art that was +quite disinterested, as the author had given up her preaching mania, +and devoted herself to depicting people that she knew and things that +she liked, without any other care than that of painting them well. +Personally, I think that this was not so. George Sand's pastoral +style is not essentially different from her socialistic style. +The difference is only in the success of the execution, but the +ideas and the intentions are the same. George Sand is continuing +her mission in them, she is going on with her humanitarian dream, +that dream which she dreamed when awake. + +We have a proof of this in the preface of the author to the reader +with which the _Mare au Diable_ begins. This preface would be +disconcerting to any one who does not remember the intellectual +atmosphere in which it was written. + +People have wondered by what fit of imagination George Sand, +when telling such a wholesome story of country life, should evoke +the ghastly vision of Holbein's Dance of Death. It is the close +of day, the horses are thin and exhausted, there is an old peasant, +and, skipping about in the furrows near the team, is Death, +the only lively, careless, nimble being in this scene of "sweat +and weariness." She gives us the explanation of it herself. +She wanted to show up the ideal of the new order of things, +as opposed to the old ideal, as translated by the ghastly dance. + +"We have nothing more to do with death," she writes, "but with life. +We no longer believe in the _neant_ of the tomb, nor in salvation +bought by enforced renunciation. We want life to be good, +because we want it to be fertile. . . . Every one must be happy, +so that the happiness of a few may not be criminal and cursed +by God." This note we recognize as the common feature of all the +socialistic Utopias. It consists in taking the opposite basis to that +on which the Christian idea is founded. Whilst Christianity puts off, +until after death, the possession of happiness, transfiguring death +by its eternal hopes, Socialism places its Paradise on earth. +It thus runs the risk of leaving all those without any recourse +who do not find this earth a paradise, and it has no answer to give +to the lamentations of incurable human misery. + +George Sand goes on to expose to us the object of art, as she +understands it. She believes that it is for pleading the cause +of the people. + +She does not consider that her _confreres_ in novel-writing and in +Socialism set about their work in the best way. They paint poverty +that is ugly and vile, and sometimes even vicious and criminal. +How is it to be expected that the bad, rich man will take pity on +the sorrows of the poor man, if this poor man is always presented +to him as an escaped convict or a night loafer? It is very evident +that the people, as presented to us in the _Mysteres de Paris_, +are not particularly congenial to us, and we should have no +wish to make the acquaintance of the "Chourineur." In order +to bring about conversions, George Sand has more faith in gentle, +agreeable people, and, in conclusion, she tells us: "We believe +that the mission of art is a mission of sentiment and of love, +and that the novel of to-day ought to take the place of the parable +and the apologue of more primitive times." The object of the artist, +she tells us, "is to make people appreciate what he presents to them." +With that end in view, he has a right to embellish his subjects +a little. "Art," we are told, "is not a study of positive reality; +it is the seeking for ideal truth." Such is the point of view of +the author of _La Mare au Diable_, which we are invited to consider +as a parable and an apologue. + +The parable is clear enough, and the apologue is eloquent. +The novel commences with that fine picture of the ploughing +of the fields, so rich in description and so broadly treated that +there seems to be nothing in French literature to compare with it +except the episode of the Labourers in _Jocelyn_. When _Jocelyn_ +was published, George Sand was severe in her criticism of it, +treating it as poor work, false in sentiment and careless in style. +"In the midst of all this, though," she adds, "there are certain +pages and chapters such as do not exist in any languaoe, pages that +I read seven times over, crying all the time like a donkey." +I fancy that she must have cried over the episode of the _Labourers_. +Whether she remembered it or not when writing her own book +little matters. My only reason for mentioning it is to point +out the affinity of genius between Lamartine and George Sand, +both of them so admirable in imagining idylls and in throwing +the colours of their idyllic imagination on to reality. + +I have ventured, to analyze the _Comtesse de Rudolstadt_ and +even _Consuelo_, but I shall not be guilty of the bad taste +of telling the story of _La Mare au Diable_, as all the people of +that neighbourhood are well known to us, and have been our friends +for a long time. We are all acquainted with Germain, the clever +farm-labourer, with Marie, the shepherdess, and with little Pierre. +We remember how they climbed the _Grise_, lost their way in the mist, +and were obliged to spend the night under the great oak-trees. When +we were only about fifteen years of age, with what delight we read +this book, and how we loved that sweet Marie for her simple grace +and her affection, which all seemed so maternal. How much better +we liked her than the Widow Guerin, who was so snobbish with her +three lovers. And how glad we were to be present at that wedding, +celebrated according to the custom in Berry from time immemorial. + +It is easy to see the meaning of all these things. They show us +how natural kindliness is to the heart of man. If we try to find out +why Germain and Marie appear so delightful to us, we shall discover +that it is because they are simple-hearted, and follow the dictates +of Nature. Nature must not be deformed, therefore, by constraint +nor transformed by convention, as it leads straight to virtue. + +We have heard the tune of this song before, and we have seen +the blossoming of some very fine pastoral poems and a veritable +invasion of sentimental literature. In those days tears were shed +plentifully over poetry, novels and plays. We have had Bernardin +de Saint-Pierre, Sedaine, Florian and Berquin. The Revolution, +brutal and sanguinary as it was, did not interrupt the course +of these romantic effusions. Never were so many tender epithets +used as during the years of the Reign of Terror, and in official +processions Robespierre was adorned with flowers like a village bride. + +This taste for pastoral things, at the time of the Revolution, +was not a mere coincidence. The same principles led up to the idyll +in literature and to the Revolution in history. Man was supposed +to be naturally good, and the idea was to take away from him all +the restraints which had been invented for curbing his nature. +Political and religious authority, moral discipline and the prestige +of tradition had all formed a kind of network of impediments, +by which man had been imprisoned by legislators who were inclined +to pessimism. By doing away with all these fetters, the Golden Age +was to be restored and universal happiness was to be established. +Such was the faith of the believers in the millennium of 1789, +and of 1848. The same dream began over and over again, from Diderot +to Lamartine and from Jean-Jacques to George Sand. The same state +of mind which we see reflected in _La Mare au Diable_ was to make +of George Sand the revolutionary writer of 1848. We can now understand +the _role_ which the novelist played in the second Republic. +It is one of the most surprising pages in the history of this +extraordinary character. + +The joy with which George Sand welcomed the Republic can readily +be imagined. She had been a Republican ever since the days of Michel +of Bourges, and a democrat since the time when, as a little girl, +she took the side of her plebeian mother against "the old Countesses." +For a long time she had been wishing for and expecting a change +of government. She would not have been satisfied with less than this. +She was not much moved by the Thiers-Guizot duel, and it would have +given her no pleasure to be killed for the sake of Odilon Barrot. +She was a disciple of Romanticism, and she wanted a storm. +When the storm broke, carrying all before it, a throne, a whole society +with its institutions, she hurried away from her peaceful Nohant. +She wanted to breathe the atmosphere of a revolution, and she was soon +intoxicated by it. + +"Long live the Republic," she wrote in her letters. "What a dream and +what enthusiasm, and then, too, what behaviour, what order in Paris. +I have just arrived, and I saw the last of the barricades. The people +are great, sublime, simple and generous, the most admirable people +in the universe. I spent nights without any sleep and days without +sitting down. Every one was wild and intoxicated with delight, +for after going to sleep in the mire they have awakened in heaven."[39] + + +[39] _Correspondance: _ To Ch. Poncy, March 9, 1848. + + +She goes on dreaming thus of the stars. Everything she hears, +everything she sees enchants her. The most absurd measures delight her. +She either thinks they are most noble, liberal steps to have taken, +or else they are very good jokes. + +"Rothschild," she writes, "expresses very fine sentiments about +liberty at present. The Provisional Government is keeping him +in sight, as it does not wish him to make off with his money, +and so will put some of the troops on his track. The most +amusing things are happening." A little later on she writes: +"The Government and the people expect to have bad deputies, +but they have agreed to put them through the window. You must come, +and we will go and see all this and have fun."[40] + + +[40] _Correspondance:_ To Maurice Sand, March 24, 1848. + + +She was thoroughly entertained, and that is very significant. +We must not forget the famous phrase that sounded the death-knell +of the July monarchy, "La France s'ennuie." France had gone in for a +revolution by way of being entertained. + +George Sand was entertained, then, by what was taking place. +She went down into the street where there was plenty to see. +In the mornings there were the various coloured posters to be read. +These had been put up in the night, and they were in prose and +in verse. + +Processions were also organized, and men, women and children, +with banners unfurled, marched along to music to the Hotel de Ville, +carrying baskets decorated with ribbons and flowers. Every corporation +and every profession considered itself bound in honour to congratulate +the Government and to encourage it in its well-doing. One day the +procession would be of the women who made waistcoats or breeches, +another day of the water-carriers, or of those who had been decorated +in July or wounded in February; then there were the pavement-layers, +the washerwomen, the delegates from the Paris night-soil men. +There were delegates, too, from the Germans, Italians, Poles, +and most of the inhabitants of Montmartre and of Batignolles. +We must not forget the trees of Liberty, as George Sand speaks of +meeting with three of these in one day. "Immense pines," she writes, +"carried on the shoulders of fifty working-men. A drum went first, +then the flag, followed by bands of these fine tillers of the ground, +strong-looking, serious men with wreaths of leaves on their head, +and a spade, pick-axe or hatchet over their shoulder. It was magnificent; +finer than all the _Roberts_ in the world."[41] Such was the tone +of her letters. + + +[41] _Correspondance._ + + +She had the Opera from her windows and an Olympic circus at every +cross-road. Paris was certainly _en fete_. In the evenings it +was just as lively. There were the Clubs, and there were no less +than three hundred of these. Society women could go to them +and hear orators in blouses proposing incendiary movements, +which made them shudder deliciously. Then there were the theatres. +Rachel, draped in antique style, looking like a Nemesis, declaimed +the _Marseillaise_. And all night long the excitement continued. +The young men organized torchlight processions, with fireworks, +and insisted on peaceably-inclined citizens illuminating. It was +like a Nationial Fete day, or the Carnival, continuing all the week. + +All this was the common, everyday aspect of Paris, but there +were the special days as well to break the monotony of all this. +There were the manifestations, which had the great advantage of +provoking counter-manifestations. On the 16th of March, there was +the manifestation of the National Guard, who were tranquil members +of society, but on the 17th there was a counter-manifestation of the +Clubs and workingmen. On such days the meeting-place would be at +the Bastille, and from morning to night groups, consisting of several +hundred thousand men, would march about Paris, sometimes in favour +of the Assembly against the Provisional Government, and sometimes +in favour of the Provisional Government against the Assembly. +On the 17th of April, George Sand was in the midst of the crowd, +in front of the Hotel de Ville, in order to see better. On the 15th +of May, as the populace was directing its efforts against the +Palais Bourbon, she was in the Rue de Bourgogne, in her eagerness +not to miss anything. As she was passing in front of a _cafe_, +she saw a woman haranguing the crowd in a very animated way from +one of the windows. She was told that this woman was George Sand. +Women were extremely active in this Revolution. They organized +a Legion for themselves, and were styled _"Les Vesuviennes_." +They had their clubs, their banquets and their newspapers. +George Sand was far from approving all this feminine agitation, +but she did not condemn it altogether. She considered that "women +and children, disinterested as they are in all political questions, +are in more direct intercourse with the spirit that breathes from +above over the agitations of this world."[42] It was for them, +therefore, to be the inspirers of politics. George Sand was one of +these inspirers. In order to judge what counsels this Egeria gave, +we have only to read some of her letters. On the 4th of March, +she wrote as follows to her friend Girerd: "Act vigorously, +my dear brother. In our present situation, we must have even more +than devotion and loyalty; we must have fanaticism if necessary." +In conclusion, she says that he is not to hesitate "in sweeping +away all that is of a _bourgeois_ nature." In April she wrote +to Lamartine, reproaching him with his moderation and endeavouring +to excite his revolutionary spirit. Later on, although she was not +of a very warlike disposition, she regretted that they had not, +like their ancestors of 1793, cemented their Revolution at home +by a war with the nations. + + +[42] _Correspondance:_ To the Citizen Thore, May 28, 1848. + + +"If, instead of following Lamartine's stupid, insipid policy," +she then wrote, "we had challenged all absolute monarchies, +we should have had war outside, but union at home, and strength, +in consequence of this, it home and abroad."[43] Like the great ancestors, +she declared that the revolutionary idea is neither that of a sect +nor of a party. "It is a religion," she says, "that we want +to proclaim." All this zeal, this passion and this persistency +in a woman is not surprising, but one does not feel much confidence +in a certain kind of inspiration for politics after all this. + + +[43] _Correspondance:_ To Mazzini, October 10, 1849. + + +My reason for dwelling on the subject is that George Sand did not content +herself with merely looking on at the events that were taking place, +or even with talking about them with her friends. She took part +in the events, by means of her pen. She scattered abroad all kinds +of revolutionary writings. On the 7th of March, she published her +first _Letter to the People_, at the price of a penny, the profits +of which were to be distributed among working-men without employment. +After congratulating these great and good people on their noble victory, +she tells them they are all going to seek together for the truth +of things. That was exactly the state of the case. They did +not yet know what they wanted, but, in the mean time, while they +were considering, they had at any rate begun with a revolution. +There was a second _Letter to the People_, and then these ceased. +Publications in those days were very short-lived. They came to +life again, though, sometimes from their ashes. In April a newspaper +was started, entitled _The Cause of the People_. This was edited +almost entirely by George Sand. She wrote the leading article: +_Sovereignty is Equality_. She reproduced her first _Letter to +the People_, gave an article on the aspect of the streets of Paris, +and another on theatrical events. She left to her collaborator, +Victor Borie, the task of explaining that the increase of taxes +was an eminently republican measure, and an agreeable surprise +for the person who had to pay them. The third number of this paper +contained a one-act play by George Sand, entitled _Le Roi attend_. +This had just been given at the Comedie-Francaise, or at the Theatre de +la Republique, as it was then called. It had been a gratis performance, +given on the 9th of April, 1848, as a first national representation. +The actors at that time were Samson, Geffroy, Regnier, Anais, +Augustine Brohan and Rachel. There were not many of them, but they +had some fine things to interpret. + +In George Sand's piece, Moliere was at work with his servant, +Laforet, who could not read, but without whom, it appears, +he could not have written a line. He has not finished his play, +the actors have not learnt their parts, and the king is impatient +at being kept waiting. Moliere is perplexed, and, not knowing +what to do, he decides to go to sleep. The Muse appears to him, +styles him "the light of the people," and brings to him all +the ghosts of the great poets before him. AEschylus, Sophocles, +Euripides and Shakespeare all declare to him that, in their time, +they had all worked towards preparing the Revolution of 1848. +Moliere then wakes up, and goes on to the stage to pay his respects +to the king. The king has been changed, though. "I see a king," +says Moliere, "but his name is not Louis XIV. It is the people, +the sovereign people. That is a word I did not know, a word as great +as eternity." + +We recognize the democrat in all this. _Le Roi_ _attend_ may +be considered as an authentic curiosity of revolutionary art. +The newspaper announced to its readers that subscriptions could be paid +in the Rue Richelieu. Subscribers were probably not forthcoming, +as the paper died a natural death after the third number. + +George Sand did much more than this, though.[44] We must not forget +that she was an official publicist in 1848. She had volunteered +her services to Ledru-Rollin, and he had accepted them. "I am +as busy as a statesman," she wrote at this time. "I have already +written two Government circulars."[45] + + +[44] With regard to George Sand's _role_, see _La Revolution de_ 1848, +by Daniel Stern (Madame d'Agoult). + +[45] _Correspondance:_ To Maurice Sand, March 24, 1848. + + +With George Sand's collaboration, the _Bulletin de la Republique_ +became unexpectedly interesting. This paper was published every +other day, by order of Ledru-Rollin, and was intended to establish +a constant interchange of ideas and sentiments between the Government +and the people. "It was specially addressed to the people of +rural districts, and was in the form of a poster that the mayor +of the place could have put up on the walls, and also distribute +to the postmen to be given away. The _Bulletins_ were anonymous, +but several of them were certainly written by George Sand. +The seventh is one of these, and also the twelfth. The latter +was written with a view to drawing the attention of the public +to the wretched lot of the women and girls of the lower classes, +who were reduced to prostitution by the lowness of their wages. +Their virginity is an object of traffic," we are told, "quoted on the +exchange of infamy." The sixteenth _Bulletin_ was simply an appeal +for revolt. George Sand was looking ahead to what ought to take place, +in case the elections did not lead to the triumph of social truth. +"The people," she hoped, "would know their duty. There would, +in that case, be only one way of salvation for the people who had +erected barricades, and that would be to manifest their will a +second time, and so adjourn the decisions of a representation that +was not national." This was nothing more nor less than the language +of another Fructidor. And we know what was the result of words +in those days. The _Bulletin_ was dated. the 15th, and on the 17th +the people were on the way to the Hotel de Ville. These popular +movements cannot always be trusted, though, as they frequently take +an unexpected turn, and even change their direction when on the way. +It happened this time that the manifestation turned against those +who were its instigators. Shouts were heard that day in Paris +of _"Death to the Communists"_ and _"Down with Cabet_." George Sand +could not understand things at all. This was not in the programme, +and she began to have her doubts about the future of the Republic-- +the real one, that of her friends. + +It was much worse on the 15th of May, the day which was so fatal +to Barbes, for he played the part of hero and of dupe on that +eventful day. Barbes was George Sand's idol at that time. + +It was impossible for her to be without one, although, with her +vivid imagination, she changed her idols frequently. With her idealism, +she was always incarnating in some individual the perfections that +she was constantly imagining. It seems as though she exteriorized +the needs of her own mind and put them into an individual who seemed +suitable to her for the particular requirements of that moment. +At the time of the monarchy, Michel of Bourges and Pierre Leroux +had been able to play the part, the former of a radical theorician +and the latter of the mystical forerunner of the new times. +At present Barbes had come on to the scene. + +He was a born conspirator, the very man for secret societies. +He had made his career by means of prisons, or rather he had +made prison his career, In 1835, he had commenced by helping +thirty of the prisoners of April to escape from Sainte-Pelagie. +At that time he was affiliated to the _Societe des Familles_. +The police discovered a whole arsenal of powder and ammunition +at the house in the Rue de Lourcine, and Barbes was condemned to +prison for a year and sent to Carcassonne, where he had relatives. +When he left prison, the _Societe des Saisons_ had taken the +place of the _Societe des Familles_. With Blanqui's approval, +Barbes organized the insurrection of May 12 and 13, 1830. +This time blood was shed. In front of the Palais de Justice, +the men, commanded by Barbes, had invited Lieutenant Droulneau +to let them enter. The officer replied that he would die first. +He was immediately shot, but Barbes was sentenced to death for this. +Thanks to the intervention of Lamartine and Victor Hugo, his life +was spared, but he was imprisoned at Mont Saint-Michel until 1843, +and afterwards at Nimes. On the 28th of February, 1848, the Governor +of Nimes prison informed him that he was free. He was more surprised +and embarrassed than pleased by this news. + +"I was quite bewildered," he owned later on, "by this idea of leaving +prison. I looked at my prison bed, to which I had grown so accustomed. +I looked at my blanket and at my pillow and at all my belongings, +hung so carefully at the foot of my bed." He asked permission +to stay there another day. He had become accustomed to everything, +and when once he was out again, and free, he was like a man who feels +ill at ease. + +He took part in the affair of the 15th of May, and this is what gives +a tragic, and at the same time comic, character to the episode. +Under pretext of manifesting in favour of Poland, the National Assembly +was to be invaded. Barbes did not approve of this manifestation, +and had decided to keep out of it. Some people cannot be present +at a revolutionary scene without taking part in it, and without +soon wanting to play the chief part in it. The excitement goes +to their head. Barbes seems to have been obeying in instinct over +which he had no control, for, together with a workman named Albert, +he headed the procession which was to march from the Chamber of Deputies +to the Hotel de Ville and establish a fresh Provisional Government. +He had already commenced composing the proclamations to be thrown +through the windows to the people, after the manner of the times, +when suddenly Lamartine appeared on the scene with Ledru-Rollin +and a captain in the artillery. The following dialogue then +took place: + +"Who are you?" + +"A member of the Provisional Government." + +"Of the Government of yesterday or of to-day + +"Of the one of to-day." + +"In that case I arrest you." + +Barbes was taken to Vincennes. He had been free rather less +than three months, when he returned to prison as though +it were his natural dwelling-place. + +George Sand admired him just as much after this as before. For her, +the great man of the Revolution was neither Ledru-Rollin, Lamartine, +nor even Louis-Blanc; it was Barbes. She compared him to Joan of Arc +and to Robespierre. To her, he was much more than a mere statesman, +this man of conspiracies and dungeons, ever mysterious and unfortunate, +always ready for a drama or a romance. In her heart she kept an altar +for this martyr, and never thought of wondering whether, after all, +this idol and hero were not a mere puppet. + +The skirmish of May 15 undeceived George Sand very considerably. +The June insurrection and the civil war, with blood flowing in the +Paris streets, those streets which were formerly so lively and amusing, +caused her terrible grief. From henceforth her letters were full +of her sadness and discouragement. The most gloomy depression took +the place of her former enthusiasm. It had only required a few +weeks for this change to take place. In February she had been +so proud of France, and now she felt that she was to be pitied for +being a Frenchwoman. It was all so sad, and she was so ashamed. +There was no one to count upon now. Lamartine was a chatterer; +Ledru-Rollin was like a woman; the people were ignorant and ungrateful, +so that the mission of literary people was over. She therefore +took refuge in fiction, and buried herself in her dreams of art. +We are not sorry to follow her there. + +_Francois le Champi_ appeared as a serial in the _Journal des Debats_. +The _denouement_ was delayed by another _denouement_, which the +public found still more interesting. This was nothing less than +the catastrophe of the July Monarchy, in February, 1848. + +After the terrible June troubles, George Sand had been heartbroken, +and had turned once more to literature for consolation. +She wrote _La Petite Fadette_, so that the pastoral romances +and the Revolution are closely connected with each other. +Beside the novels of this kind which we have already mentioned, +we must add _Jeanne_, which dates from 1844, and the _Maitres Sonneurs_, +written in 1853. This, then, completes the incomparable series, +which was the author's _chef-d'oeuvre_, and one of the finest gems +of French literature. This was George Sand's real style, and the note +in literature which was peculiarly her own. She was well fitted for +such writing, both by her natural disposition and by circumstances. +She had lived nearly all her life in the country, and it was +there only that she lived to the full. She made great efforts, +but Paris certainly made her homesick for her beloved Berry. +She could not help sighing when she thought of the ploughed fields, +of the walnut-trees, and of the oxen answering to the voice of +the labourers. + +"It is no use," she wrote about the same time, "if you are born +a country person, you cannot get used to the noise of cities. +It always seems to me that our mud is beautiful mud, whilst that +here makes me feel sick. I very much prefer my keeper's wit +to that of certain of the visitors here. It seems to me that I am +livelier when I have eaten some of Nannette's wheat-cake than I +am after my coffee in Paris. In short, it appears to me that we +are all perfect and charming, that no one could be more agreeable +than we are, and that Parisians are all clowns."[46] + + +[46] _Correspondance:_ To. Ch. Duvernet, November 12, 1842. + + +This was said in all sincerity. George Sand was quite indifferent +about all the great events of Parisian life, about social tittle-tattle +and Boulevard gossip. She knew the importance, though, of every +episode of country life, of a sudden fog or of the overflowing +of the river. She knew the place well, too, as she had visited +every nook and corner in all weathers and in every season. +She knew all the people; there was not a house she had not entered, +either to visit the sick or to clear up some piece of business +for the inmates. Not only did she like the country and the country +people because she was accustomed to everything there, but she had +something of the nature of these people within her. She had a certain +turn of mind that was peasant-like, her slowness to take things in, +her dislike of speech when thinking, her thoughts taking the form +of "a series of reveries which gave her a sort of tranquil ecstasy, +whether awake or asleep."[47] It does not seem as though there +has ever been such an _ensemble_ of favourable conditions. + + +[47] See in _Jeanne_ a very fine page on the peasant soul. + + +She did not succeed in her first attempt. In several of her novels, +ever since _Valentine_, she had given us peasants among her characters. +She had tried labourers, mole-catchers, fortune-tellers and beggars, +but all these were episodic characters. _Jeanne_ is the first novel +in which the heroine is a peasant. Everything connected with Jeanne +herself in the novel is exquisite. We have all seen peasant women +of this kind, women with serious faces and clearly-cut features, +with a dreamy look in their eyes that makes us think of the maid +of Lorraine. It is one of these exceptional creatures that George Sand +has depicted. She has made an ecstatic being of her, who welcomes +all that is supernatural, utterly regardless of dates or epochs. +To her all wonderful beings appeal, the Virgin Mary and fairies, +Druidesses, Joan of Arc and Napoleon. But Jeanne, the Virgin +of Ep Nell, the Velleda of the Jomatres stones, the mystical sister +of the Great Shepherdess, was very poorly supported. This remark +does not refer to her cousin Claudie, although this individual's +conduct was not blameless. Jeanne had gone into service at Boussac, +and she was surrounded by a group of middle-class people, among whom +was Sir Arthur----, a wealthy Englishman, who wanted to marry her. +This mixture of peasants and _bourgeois_ is not a happy one. +Neither is the mixture of _patois_ with a more Christian way of talking, +or rather with a written style. The author was experimenting and +feeling her way. + +When she wrote _La Mare au Diable_ she had found it, for in this work +we have unity of tone, harmony of the characters with their setting, +of sentiment with the various adventures, and, above all, +absolute simplicity. + +In _Francois le Champi_ there is much that is graceful, +and there is real feeling mingled with a touch of sentimentality. +Madeleine Blanchet is rather old for Champi, whom she had brought +up like her own child. In the country, though, where difference +of age is soon less apparent, the disproportion does not seem as +objectionable as it would in city life. The novel is not a study +of maternal affection in love, as it is not Madeleine's feelings +that are analyzed, but those of Francois. For a long time he had been +in love without knowing it, and he is only aware of it when this love, +instead of being a sort of agreeable dream and melancholy pleasure, +is transformed into suffering. + +The subject of _La Petite Fadette_ is another analysis of a love +which has been silent for a long time. It is difficult to say +which is the best of these delightful stories, but perhaps, +on the whole, this last one is generally preferred, on account +of the curious and charming figure of little Fadette herself. +We can see the thin, slender girl, suddenly appearing on the road, +emerging from a thicket. She seems to be part of the scenery, +and can scarcely be distinguished from the objects around her. +The little wild country girl is like the spirit of the fields, +woods, rivers and precipices. She is a being very near to Nature. +Inquisitive and mischievous, she is bold in her speech, because she +is treated as a reprobate. She jeers, because she knows that she +is detested, and she scratches, because she suffers. The day comes +when she feels some of that affection which makes the atmosphere +breathable for human beings. She feels her heart beating faster +in her bosom, thanks to this affection, and from that minute +a transformation takes place within her. Landry, who has been +observing her, is of opinion that she must be something of a witch. +Landry is very simple-minded. There is no witchcraft here except that +of love, and it was not difficult for that to work the metamorphosis. +It has worked many others in this world. + +The _Maitres Soneurs_ initiates us into forest life, so full of +mysterious visions. In opposition to the sedentary, stay-at-home life +of the inhabitant of plains, with his indolent mind, we have the +free-and-easy humour of the handsome and adventurous muleteer, +Huriel, with his love of the road and of all that is unexpected. +He is a _cheminau_ before the days of M. Richepin. + +I do not know any stories more finished than these. They certainly +prove that George Sand had the artistic sense, a quality which has +frequently been denied her. The characters in these stories +are living and active, and at the same time their psychology +is not insisted upon, and they do not stand out in such relief +as to turn our attention from things, which, as we know, are more +important than people in the country. We are surrounded on all +sides by the country, and bathed, as it were, in its atmosphere. +And yet, in spite of all this, the country is not once described. +There is not one of those descriptions so dear to the heart of those +who are considered masters in the art of word-painting. We do riot +describe those things with which we live. We are content to have them +ever present in our mind and to be in constant communion with them. +Style is, perhaps, the sovereign quality in these stories. +Words peculiar to the district are introduced just sufficiently +to give an accent. Somewhat old-fashioned expressions are employed, +and these prove the survival of by-gone days, which, in the country, +are respected more than elsewhere. Without any apparent effort, +the narrative takes that epic form so natural to those who, +as _aedes_ of primitive epochs, or story-tellers by country firesides, +give their testimony about things of the past. + +I am aware that George Sand has been accused of tracing portraits +of her peasants which were not like them. This is so absurd that I +do not consider it worth while to spend time in discussing it. +It would be so easy to show that in her types of peasants there +is more variety, and also more reality, than in Balzac's more +realistic ones. Without being untruthful portraits, it may be +that they are somewhat flattered, and that we have more honest, +delicate and religious peasants in these stories than in reality. +This may be so, and George Sand warns us of this herself. It was her +intention to depict them thus. + +It was not absolute reality and the everyday details of the peasants' +habits and customs that she wanted to show us, but the poetry +of the country, the reflection of the great sights of Nature +in the soul of those who, thanks to their daily work, are the +constant witnesses of them. The peasant certainly has no exact +notion of the poetry of Nature, nor is he always conscious of it. +He feels it, though, within his soul in a vague way. At certain +moments he has glimpses of it, perhaps, when love causes him emotion, +or perhaps when he is absent from the part of the world, where he has +always lived. His homesickness then gives him a keener perception. +This poetry is perhaps never clearly revealed to any individual, +not to the labourer who traces out his furrows tranquilly in the +early morning, nor to the shepherd who spends whole weeks alone +in the mountains, face to face with the stars. It dwells, though, +in the inner conscience of the race. The generations which come +and go have it within them, and they do not fall to express it. +It is this poetry which we find in certain customs and beliefs, +in the various legends and songs. When Le Champi returns to his +native place, he finds the whole country murmuring with the twitter +of birds which he knew so well. + +"And all this reminded him of a very old song with which his mother +Zabelli used to sing him to sleep. It was a song with words such +as people used to employ in olden times." + +In George Sand's pastoral novels we have some of these old words. +They come to us from afar, and are like a supreme blossoming of +old traditions. + +It is all this which characterizes these books, and assigns to them +their place in our literature. We must not compare them with the +rugged studies of Balzac, nor with the insipid compositions of the +bucolic writer, nor even with Bernadin de Saint-Pierre's masterpiece, +as there are too many cocoanut trees in that. They prevent us +seeing the French landscapes. Very few people know the country +in France and the humble people who dwell there. Very few writers +have loved the country well enough to be able to depict its hidden charms. + +La Fontaine has done it in his fables and Perrault in his tales. +George Sand has her place, in this race of writers, among the +French Homers. + + + + +IX + +THE `BONNE DAME' OF NOHANT THE THEATRE--ALEXANDRE DUMAS FILS-- +LIFE AT NOHANT + + +Novelists are given to speaking of the theatre somewhat disdainfully. +They say that there is too much convention, that an author is too much +the slave of material conditions, and is obliged to consider the taste +of the crowd, whilst a book appeals to the lover of literature, +who can read it by his own fireside, and to the society woman, +who loses herself in its pages. As soon, though, as one of their +novels has had more success than its predecessors, they do not +hesitate to cut it up into slices, according to the requirements +of the publishing house, so that it may go beyond the little circle +of lovers of literature and society women and reach the crowd-- +the largest crowd possible. + +George Sand never pretended to have this immense disdain +for the theatre which is professed by ultra-refined writers. +She had always loved the theatre, and she bore it no grudge, +although her pieces had been hissed. In those days plays that did +not find favour were hissed. At present they are not hissed, +either because there are no more poor plays, or because the public +has seen so many bad ones that it has become philosophical, +and does not take the trouble to show its displeasure. George Sand's +first piece, _Cosima_, was a noted failure. About the year 1850, +she turned to the theatre once more, hoping to find a new form +of expression for her energy and talent. _Francois le Champi_ +was a great success. In January, 1851, she wrote as follows, +after the performance of _Claudie: _ "A tearful success and a +financial one. The house is full every day; not a ticket given away, +and not even a seat for Maurice. The piece is played admirably; +Bocage is magnificent. The public weeps and blows its nose, +as though it were in church. I am told that never in the memory +of man has there been such a first night. I was not present myself." + +There may be a slight exaggeration in the words "never in the memory +of man," but the success was really great. _Claudie_ is still given, +and I remember seeing Paul Mounet interpret the part of Remy admirably +at the Odeon Theatre. As to the _Mariage de Victorine_, it figures +every year on the programme of the Conservatoire competitions. +It is the typical piece for would-be _ingenues._ + +_Francois le Champi, Claudie_ and the _Mariage de Victorine_ may be +considered as the series representing George Sand's dramatic writings. +These pieces were all her own, and, in her own opinion, that was +their principal merit. The dramatic author is frequently obliged +to accept the collaboration of persons who know nothing of literature. + +"Your characters say this," observes the manager; it is all very well, +but, believe me, it will be better for him to say just the opposite. +The piece will run at least sixty nights longer." There was +a manager at the Gymnase Theatre in those days named Montigny. +He was a very clever manager, and knew exactly what the characters +ought to say for making the piece run. George Sand complained of his +mania for changing every play, and she added: "Every piece that I did +not change, such, for instance, as _Champi_, _Claudie_, _Victorine, +Le Demon du foyer_ and _Le Pressoir_, was a success, whilst +all the others were either failures or they had a very short run."[48] + + +[48] _Correspondance:_ To Maurice Sand, February 24, 1855. + + +It was in these pieces that George Sand carried out her own idea +of what was required for the theatre. Her idea was very simple. +She gives it in two or three words: "I like pieces that make me cry." +She adds: "I like drama better than comedy, and, like a woman, +I must be infatuated by one of the characters." This character is +the congenial one. The public is with him always and trembles for him, +and the trembling is all the more agreeable, because the public +knows perfectly well that all will end well for this character. +It can even go as far as weeping the traditional six tears, +as Madame de Sevigne did for Andromaque. Tears at the theatre are +all the sweeter, because they are all in vain. When, in a play, +we have a congenial character who is there from the beginning to +the end, the play is a success. Let us take _Cyraino de Bergerac_, +for instance, which is one of the greatest successes in the history of +the theatre. + +Francois le Champi is eminently a congenial character, for he is +a man who always sets wrong things right. We are such believers +in justice and in the interference of Providence. When good, +straightforward people are persecuted by fate, we always expect to see +a man appear upon the scene who will be the champion of innocence, +who will put evil-doers to rights, and find the proper thing to do +and say in every circumstance. + +Francois appears at the house of Madeleine Blanchet, who is a widow +and very sad and ill. He takes her part and defends her from the +results of La Severe's intrigues. He is hard on the latter, and he +disdains another woman, Mariette, but both La Severe and Mariette +love him, so true is it that women have a weakness for conquerors. +Francois only cares for Madeleine, though. On the stage, we like +a man to be adored by all women, as this seems to us a guarantee +that he will only care for one of them. + +"Champi" is a word peculiar to a certain district, meaning "natural +son." Dumas _fils_ wrote a play entitled _Le Fils naturel_. +The hero is also a superior man, who plays the part of Providence +to the family which has refused to recognize him. + +In _Claudie_, as in _Francois le Champi_, the rural setting +is one of the great charms of the play. The first act is one +of the most picturesque scenes on the stage. It takes place +in a farmyard, the day when the reapers have finished their task, +which is just as awe-inspiring as that of the sowers. A cart, +drawn by oxen, enters the yard, bringing a sheaf all adorned +with ribbons and flowers. The oldest of the labourers, Pere Remy, +addresses a fine couplet to the sheaf of corn which has cost +so much labour, but which is destined to keep life in them all. +Claudie is one of those young peasant girls, whom we met with +in the novel entitled _Jeanne_. She had been unfortunate, +but Jeanne, although virtuous and pure herself, did not despise her, +for in the country there is great latitude in certain matters. +This is just the plain story, but on the stage everything becomes +more dramatic and is treated in a more detailed and solemn fashion. +Claudie's misfortune causes her to become a sort of personage apart, +and it raises her very high in her own esteem. + +"I am not afraid of anything that can be said about me," +observes Claudie, "for, on knowing the truth, kind-hearted, upright +people will acknowledge that I do not deserve to be insulted." +Her old grandfather, Remy, has completely absolved her. + +"You have repented and suffered enough, and you have worked +and wept and expiated enough, too, my poor Claudie," he says. +Through all this she has become worthy to make an excellent marriage. +It is a case of that special moral code by which, after free love, +the fault must be recompensed. + +Claudie is later on the Jeannine of the _Idees de Madame Aubray_, +the Denise of Alexandre Dumas. She is the unmarried mother, +whose misfortunes have not crushed her pride, who, after being outraged, +has a right now to a double share of respect. The first good young +man is called upon to accept her past life, for there is a law +of solidarity in the world. The human species is divided into +two categories, the one is always busy doing harm, and the other +is naturally obliged to give itself up to making good the harm done. + +_The Mariage de Victorine_ belongs to a well-known kind of literary +exercise, which was formerly very much in honour in the colleges. +This consists in taking a celebrated work at the place where the +author has left it and in imagining the "sequel." For instance, +after the _Cid_, there would be the marriage of Rodrigue and Chimene +for us. As a continuation of _L'Ecole des Femmes_, there is +the result of the marriage of the young Horace with the tiresome +little Agnes. Corneille gave a sequel to the _Menteur_ himself. +Fabre d'Eglantine wrote the sequel to _Le Misanthrope_, and called +it _Le Philinte de Moliere_. George Sand gives us here the +sequel of Sedaine's _chef-d'oeuvre_ (that is, a _chef-d'oeuvre_ +for Sedaine), _Le Philosophe sans le savor._ + +In _Le Philosophe sans le savoir_ Monsieur Vanderke is a nobleman, +who has become a merchant in order to be in accordance with the ideas +of the times. He is a Frenchman, but he has taken a Dutch name out +of snobbishness. He has a clerk or a confidential servant named Antoine. +Victorine is Antoine's daughter. Vanderke's son is to fight a duel, +and from Victorine's emotion, whilst awaiting the result of this duel, +it is easy to see that she is in love with this young man. +George Sand's play turns on the question of what is to be done when +the day comes for Victorine to marry. An excellent husband is found +for her, a certain Fulgence, one of Monsieur Vanderke's clerks. +He belongs to her own class, and this is considered one of the +indispensable conditions for happiness in marriage. He loves her, +so that everything seems to favour Victorine. We are delighted, +and she, too, seems to be in good spirits, but, all the time that she +is receiving congratulations and presents, we begin to see that she +has some great trouble. + +"Silk and pearls!" she exclaims; "oh, how heavy they are, but I am +sure that they are very fine. Lace, too, and silver; oh, such a +quantity of silver. How rich and fine and happy I shall be. +And then Fulgence is so fond of me." (She gets sadder and sadder.) +"And father is so pleased. How strange. I feel stifled." +(She sits down in Antoinc's chair.) "Is this joy? . . . I feel . . . +Ah, it hurts to be as happy as this. . . ." She bursts into tears. +This suppressed emotion to which she finally gives vent, and this +forced smile which ends in sobs are very effective on the stage. +The question is, how can Victorine's tears be dried? She wants +to marry young Vanderke, the son of her father's employer, instead +of the clerk. The only thing is, then, to arrange this marriage. + +"Is it a crime, then, for my brother to love Victorine?" asks Sophie, +"and is it mad of me to think that you will give your consent?" + +"My dear Sophie," replies Monsieur Vanderke, "there are no unequal +marriages in the sight of God. A servitor like Antoine is a friend, +and I have always brought you up to consider Victorine as your +companion and equal." + +This is the way the father of the family speaks. Personally, +I consider him rather imprudent. + +As this play is already a sequel to another one, I do not wish +to propose a sequel to _Le Mariage de Victorine_, but I cannot +help wondering what will happen when Vanderke's son finds himself +the son-in-law of an old servant-man, and also what will occur if he +should take his wife to call on some of his sister's friends. +It seems to me that he would then find out he had, made a mistake. +Among the various personages, only one appears to me quite worthy +of interest, and that is poor Fulgence, who was so straightforward +and honest, and who is treated so badly. + +But how deep Victorine was! Even if we admit that she did not +deliberately scheme and plot to get herself married by the son +of the family, she did instinctively all that had to be done +for that. She was very deep in an innocent way, and I have come +to the conclusion that such deepness is the most to be feared. + +I see quite well all that is lacking in these pieces, and that they +are not very great, but all the same they form a "theatre" apart. +There is unity in this theatrical work of George Sand. Whether it +makes a hero of the natural son, rehabilitates the seduced girl, +or cries down the idea of _mesalliances_, it is always the same fight +in which it is engaged; it is always fighting against the same enemies, +prejudice and narrow-mindedness. On the stage, we call every opinion +contrary to our own prejudice or narrow-mindedness. The theatre +lives by fighting. It matters little what the author is attacking. +He may wage war with principles, prejudices, giants, or windmills. +Provided that there be a battle, there will be a theatre for it. + +The fact that George Sand's theatre was the forerunner of the theatre +of Dumas _fils_ gives it additional value. We have already noticed +the analogy of situations and the kinship of theories contained +in George Sand's best plays and in the most noted ones by Dumas. +I have no doubt that Dumas owed a great deal to George Sand. +We shall see that he paid his debt as only he could have done. +He knew the novelist when he was quite young, as Dumas _pere_ and George +Sand were on very friendly terms. In her letter telling Sainte-Beuve +not to take Musset to call on her, as she thought him impertinent, +she tells him to bring Dumas _pere_, whom she evidently considered +well bred. As she was a friend of his father's, she was like a +mother for the son. The first letter to him in the _Correspondance_ +is dated 1850. Dumas _fils_ was then twenty-six years of age, +and she calls him "my son." + +He had not written _La Dame aux Camelias_ then. It was performed +for the first time in February, 1852. He was merely the author +of a few second-rate novels and of a volume of execrable poetry. +He had not found out his capabilities at that time. There is no doubt +that he was greatly struck by George Sand's plays, imbued as they +were with the ideas we have just pointed out. + +All this is worthy of note, as it is essential for understanding +the work of Alexandre Dumas _fils_. He, too, was a natural son, +and his illegitimate birth had caused him much suffering. He was sent +to the Pension Goubaux, and for several years he endured the torture he +describes with such harshness at the beginning of _L'Affaire Clemenceau_. +He was exposed to all kinds of insults and blows. His first contact +with society taught him that this society was unjust, and that it +made the innocent suffer. The first experience he had was that of +the cruelty and cowardice of men. His mind was deeply impressed +by this, and he never lost the impression. He did not forgive, +but made it his mission to denounce the pharisaical attitude +of society. His idea was to treat men according to their merits, +and to pay them back for the blows he had received as a child.[49] +It is easy, therefore, to understand how the private grievances +of Dumas _fils_ had prepared his mind to welcome a theatre which took +the part of the oppressed and waged war with social prejudices. +I am fully aware of the difference in temperament of the two writers. +Dumas _fils_, with his keen observation, was a pessimist. +He despised woman, and he advises us to kill her, under the +pretext that she has always remained "the strumpet of the land of +No." although she may be dressed in a Worth costume and wear a Reboux hat. + + +[49] See our study of Dumas _fils_ in a volume entitled _Portraits +d'ecrivains._ + + +As a dramatic author, Alexandre Dumas _fils_ had just what George +Sand lacked. He was vigorous, he had the art of brevity and +brilliant dialogue. It is thanks to all this that we have one of +the masterpieces of the French theatre, _Le Marquis de Villemer_, +as a result of their collaboration. + +We know from George Sand's letters the share that Dumas _fils_ +had in this work. He helped her to take the play from her novel, +and to write the scenario. After this, when once the play was written, +he touched up the dialogue, putting in more emphasis and brilliancy. +It was Dumas, therefore, who constructed the play. We all know +how careless George Sand was with her composition. She wrote +with scarcely any plan in her mind beforehand, and let herself +be carried away by events. Dumas' idea was that the _denouement_ +is a mathematical total, and that before writing the first word +of a piece the author must know the end and have decided the action. +Theatrical managers complained of the sadness of George Sand's plays. +It is to Dumas that we owe the gaiety of the Duc d'Aleria's _role_. +It is one continual flow of amusing speeches, and it saves the piece +from the danger of falling into tearful drama. George Sand had +no wit, and Dumas _fils_ was full of it. It was he who put into +the dialogue those little sayings which are so easily recognized +as his. + +"What do the doctors say?" is asked, and the reply comes: + +"What do the doctors say? Well, they say just what they know: +they say nothing." + +"My brother declares that the air of Paris is the only air he +can breathe," says another character. + +"Congratulate him for me on his lungs," remarks his interlocutor. + +"Her husband was a baron . . ." remarks some one. + +"Who is not a baron at present?" answers another person. + +A certain elderly governess is being discussed. + +"Did you not know her?" + +"Mademoiselle Artemise? No, monsieur." + +"Have you ever seen an albatross?" + +"No, never." + +"Not even stuffed? Oh, you should go to the Zoo. It is a curious +creature, with its great beak ending in a hook. . . . It eats +all day long. . . . Well, Mademoiselle Artemise, etc. . . ." + +The _Marquis de Villemer_ is in its place in the series of George +Sand's plays, and is quite in accordance with the general tone +of her theatre. It is like the _Mariage de Victorine_ over again. +This time Victorine is a reader, who gets herself married by a +Marquis named Urbain. He is of a gloomy disposition, so that she +will not enjoy his society much, but she will be a Marquise. +Victorine and Caroline are both persons who know how to make their +way in the world. When they have a son, I should be very much +surprised if they allowed him to make a _mesalliance_. + +George Sand was one of the persons f or whom Dumas _fils_ +had the greatest admiration. As a proof of this, a voluminous +correspondence between them exists. It has not yet been published, +but there is a possibility that it may be some day. I remember, +when talking with Dumas _fils_, the terms in which he always spoke +of "la mere Sand," as he called her in a familiar but filial way. +He compared her to his father, and that was great praise indeed from him. +He admired in her, too, as he admired in his father, that wealth +of creative power and immense capacity for uninterrupted work. +As a proof of this admiration, we have only to turn to the preface +to _Le Fils naturel_, in which Dumas is so furious with the +inhabitants of Palaiseau. George Sand had taken up her abode +at Palaiseau, and Dumas had been trying in vain to discover her +address in the district, when he came across one of the natives, +who replied as follows: "George Sand? Wait a minute. Isn't it +a lady with papers?" "So much for the glory," concludes Dumas, +"of those of us with papers." According to him, no woman had ever +had more talent or as much genius. "She thinks like Montaigne," +he says, "she dreams like Ossian and she writes like Jean-Jacques. +Leonardo sketches her phrases for her, and Mozart sings them. +Madame de Sevigne kisses her hands, and Madame de Stael kneels +down to her as she passes." We can scarcely imagine Madame de +Stael in this humble posture, but one of the charms of Dumas +was his generous nature, which spared no praise and was lavish +in enthusiasm. + + +At the epoch at which we have now arrived, George Sand had commenced +that period of tranquillity and calm in which she was to spend the rest +of her life. She had given up politics, for, as we have seen, she was +quickly undeceived with regard to them, and cured of her illusions. +When the _coup d'etat_ of December, 1851, took place, George Sand, +who had been Ledru-Rollin's collaborator and a friend of Barbes, soon made +up her mind what to do. As the daughter of Murat's _aide-de-camp_, +she naturally had a certain sympathy with the Bonapartists. +Napoleon III was a socialist, so that it was possible to come to +an understanding. When the prince had been a prisoner at Ham, he had +sent the novelist his study entitled _L'Extinction du pauperisme_. +George Sand took advantage of her former intercourse with him +to beg for his indulgrence in favour of some of her friends. +This time she was in her proper _role_, the _role_ of a woman. +The "tyrant" granted the favours she asked, and George Sand then +came to the conclusion that he was a good sort of tyrant. She was +accused of treason, but she nevertheless continued to speak of him +with gratitude. She remained on good terms with the Imperial family, +particularly with Prince Jerome, as she appreciated his intellect. +She used to talk with him on literary and philosophical questions. +She sent him two tapestry ottomans one year, which she had worked +for him. Her son Maurice went for a cruise to America on Prince +Jerome's yacht, and he was the godfather of George Sand's little +grandchildren who were baptized as Protestants. + +George Sand deserves special mention for her science in the art +of growing old. It is not a science easy to master, and personally +this is one of my reasons for admiring her. She understood what a +charm there is in that time of life when the voice of the passions +is no longer heard, so that we can listen to the voice of things +and examine the lesson of life, that time when our reason makes us +more indulgent, when the sadness of earthly separations is softened +by the thought that we shall soon go ourselves to join those who +have left us. We then begin to have a foretaste of the calmness +of that Great Sleep which is to console us at the end of all our +sufferings and grief. George Sand was fully aware of the change +that had taken place within her. She said, several times over, +that the age of impersonality had arrived for her. She was delighted +at having escaped from herself and at being free from egoism. +From henceforth she could give herself up to the sentiments which, +in pedantic and barbarous jargon, are called altruistic sentiments. +By this we mean motherly and grandmotherly affection, devotion to +her family, and enthusiasm for all that is beautiful and noble. +She was delighted when she was told of a generous deed, and charmed +by a book in which she discovered talent. It seemed to her as though +she were in some way joint author of it. + +"My heart goes out to all that I see dawning or growing . . ." +she wrote, at this time. "When we see or read anything beautiful, +does it not seem as though it belongs to us in a way, that it +is neither yours nor mine, but that it belongs to all who drink +from it and are strengthened by it?"[50] + + +[50] _Correspondance:_ To Octave Feuillet, February 27, 1859. + + +This is a noble sentiment, and less rare than is generally believed. +The public little thinks that it is one of the great joys of +the writer, when he has reached a certain age, to admire the works +of his fellow-writers. George Sand encouraged her young _confreres_, +Dumas _fils_, Feuillet and Flaubert, at the beginning of their career, +and helped them with her advice. + +We have plenty of information about her at this epoch. Her intimate +friends, inquisitive people and persons passing through Paris, +have described their visits to her over and over again. We have the +impressions noted down by the Goncourt brothers in their _Jounal_. +We all know how much to trust to this diary. Whenever the Goncourts +give us an idea, an opinion, or a doctrine, it is as well to be wary +in accepting it. They were not very intelligent. I do not wish, +in saying this, to detract from them, but merely to define them. +On the other hand, what they saw, they saw thoroughly, and they noted +the general look, the attitude or gesture with great care. + +We give their impressions of George Sand. In March, 1862, they went +to call on her. She was then living in Paris, in the Rue Racine. +They give an account of this visit in their diary. + +"_March_ 30, 1862. + +"On the fourth floor, No. 2, Rue Racine. A little gentleman, +very much like every one else, opened the door to us. He smiled, +and said: `Messieurs de Goncourt!' and then, opening another door, +showed us into a very large room, a kind of studio. + +"There was a window at the far end, and the light was getting dim, +for it was about five o'clock. We could see a grey shadow against +the pale light. It was a woman, who did not attempt to rise, but who +remained impassive to our bow and our words. This seated shadow, +looking so drowsy, was Madame Sand, and the man who opened. +the door was the engraver Manceau. Madame Sand is like an +automatic machine. She talks in a monotonous, mechanical voice +which she neither raises nor lowers, and which is never animated. +In her whole attitude there is a sort of gravity and placidness, +something of the half-asleep air of a person ruminating. +She has very slow gestures, the gestures of a somnambulist. With a +mechanical movement she strikes a wax match, which gives a flicker, +and lights the cigar she is holding between her lips. + +"Madame Sand was extremely pleasant; she praised us a great deal, +but with a childishness of ideas, a platitude of expression +and a mournful good-naturedness that was as chilling as the bare +wall of a room. Manceau endeavoured to enliven the dialogue. +We talked of her theatre at Nohant, where they act for her and +for her maid until four in the morning. . . . We then talked +of her prodigious faculty for work. She told us that there was +nothing meritorious in that, as she had always worked so easily. +She writes every night from one o'clock until four in the morning, +and she writes again for about two hours during the day. +Manceau explains everything, rather like an exhibitor of phenomena. +`It is all the same to her,' he told us, `if she is disturbed. +Suppose you turn on a tap at your house, and some one comes +in the room. You simply turn the tap off. It is like that with +Madame Sand.'" + + +The Goncourt brothers were extremely clever in detracting from the +merits of the people about whom they spoke. They tell us that George +Sand had "a childishness in her ideas and a platitude of expression." +They were unkind without endeavouring to be so. They ran down +people instinctively. They were eminently literary men. They were +also artistic writers, and had even invented "artistic writing," +but they had very little in common with George Sand's attitude +of mind. To her the theory of art for the sake of art had always +seemed a very hollow theory. She wrote as well as she could, +but she never dreamed of the profession of writing having anything +in common with an acrobatic display. + +In September, 1863, the Goncourt brothers again speak of George Sand, +telling us about her life at Nohant, or rather putting the account +they give into the mouth of Theophile Gautier. He had just returned +from Nohant, and he was asked if it was amusing at George Sand's. + +"Just as amusing as a monastery of the Moravian brotherhood," +he replies. "I arrived there in the evening, and the house is +a long way from the station. My trunk was put into a thicket, +and on arriving I entered by the farm in the midst of all the dogs, +which gave me a fright. . . ." + +As a matter of fact, Gautier's arrival at Nohant had been quite +a dramatic poem, half tragic and half comic. Absolute freedom +was the rule of Nohant. Every one there read, wrote, or went +to sleep according to his own will and pleasure. Gautier arrived +in that frame of mind peculiar to the Parisian of former days. +He considered that he had given a proof of heroism in venturing +outside the walls of Paris. He therefore expected a hearty welcome. +He was very much annoyed at his reception, and was about to start back +again immediately, when George Sand was informed of his arrival. +She was extremely vexed at what had happened, and exclaimed, "But had +not any one told him how stupid I am!" + +The Goncourt brothers asked Gautier what life at Nohant was like. + +"Luncheon is at ten," he replied, "and when the finger was on +the hour, we all took our seats. Madame Sand arrived, looking like +a somnambulist, and remained half asleep all through the meal. +After luncheon we went into the garden and played at _cochonnet_. +This roused her, and she would then sit down and begin to talk." + +It would have been more exact to say that she listened, as she +was not a great talker herself. She had a horror of a certain kind +of conversation, of that futile, paradoxical and spasmodic kind which +is the speciality of "brilliant talkers." Sparkling conversation +of this sort disconcerted her and made her feel ill at ease. +She did not like the topic to be the literary profession either. +This exasperated Gautier, who would not admit of there being anything +else in the world but literature. + +"At three o'clock," he continued, "Madame Sand went away to +write until six. We then dined, but we had to dine quickly, +so that Marie Caillot would have time to dine. Marie Caillot +is the servant, a sort of little Fadette whom Madame Sand +had discovered in the neighbourhood for playing her pieces. +This Marie Caillot used to come into the drawing-room in the evening. +After dinner Madame Sand would play patience, without uttering a word, +until midnight. . . . At midnight she began to write again until four +o'clock. . . . You know what happened once. Something monstrous. +She finished a novel at one o'clock in the morning, and began another +during the night. . . . To make copy is a function with Madame Sand." + +The marionette theatre was one of the Nohant amusements. One of the +joys of the family, and also one of the delights of _dilettanti_,[51] +was the painting of the scenery, the manufacturing of costumes, +the working out of scenarios, dressing dolls and making them talk. + + +[51] "The individual named George Sand is very well. He is enjoying +the wonderful winter which reigns in Berry; he gathers flowers, +points out any interesting botanical anomalies, sews dresses and +mantles for his daughter-in-law, and costumes for the marionettes, +cuts out stage scenery, dresses dolls and reads music. . . +."--_Correspondance:_ To Flaubert, January 17, 1869. + + +In one of her novels, published in 1857, George Sand introduces +to us a certain Christian Waldo, who has a marionette show. +He explains the attraction of this kind of theatre and the +fascination of these _burattini_, which were living beings to him. +Those among us who, some fifteen years ago, were infatuated by a +similar show, are not surprised at Waldo's words. The marionettes +to which we refer were to be seen in the Passage Vivienne. +Sacred plays in verse were given, and the managers were Monsieur +Richepin and Monsieur Bouchor. For such plays we preferred actors +made of wood to actors of flesh and blood, as there is always +a certain desecration otherwise in acting such pieces. + +George Sand rarely left Nohant now except for her little flat +in Paris. In the spring of 1855, she went to Rome for a short time, +but did not enjoy this visit much. She sums up her impressions +in the following words: "Rome is a regular see-saw." The ruins +did not interest her much. + +"After spending several days in visiting urns, tombs, crypts +and columns, one feels the need of getting out of all this a +little and of seeing Nature." + +Nature, however, did not compensate her sufficiently for her +disappointment in the ruins. + +"The Roman Campagna, which has been so much vaunted, is certainly +singularly immense, but it is so bare, flat and deserted, so monotonous +and sad, miles and miles of meadow-land in every direction, +that the little brain one has left, after seeing the city, +is almost overpowered by it all." + +This journey inspired her with one of the weakest of her novels, +_La Daniella_. It is the diary of a painter named Jean Valreg, +who married a laundry-girl. In 1861, after an illness, she went +to Tamaris, in the south of France. This name is the title +of one of her novels. She does not care for this place either. +She considers that there is too much wind, too much dust, and that +there are too many olive-trees in the south of France. + +I am convinced that at an earlier time in her life she would, +have been won over by the fascination of Rome. She had comprehended +the charm of Venice so admirably. At an earlier date, too, +she would not have been indifferent to the beauties of Provence, +as she had delighted in meridional Nature when in Majorca. + +The years were over, though, for her to enjoy the variety of outside +shows with all their phantasmagoria. A time comes in life, +and it had already come for her, when we discover that Nature, +which has seemed so varied, is the same everywhere, that we have +quite near us all that we have been so far away to seek, a little +of this earth, a little water and a little sky. We find, too, that we +have neither the time nor the inclination to go away in search +of all this when our hours are counted and we feel the end near. +The essential thing then is to reserve for ourselves a little space +for our meditations, between the agitations of life and that moment +which alone decides everything for us. + + + + +X + +THE GENIUS OF THE WRITER + +CORRESPONDENCE WITH FLAUBERT--LAST NOVELS + + +With that maternal instinct which was so strong within her, George Sand +could not do without having a child to scold, direct and take to task. +The one to whom she was to devote the last ten years of her life, +who needed her beneficent affection more than any of those she +had adopted, was a kind of giant with hair turned back from his forehead +and a thick moustache like a Norman of the heroic ages. He was just +such a man as we can imagine the pirates in Duc Rollo's boats. +This descendant of the Vikings had been born in times of peace, +and his sole occupation was to endeavour to form harmonious phrases +by avoiding assonances. + +I do not think there have been two individuals more different from +each other than George Sand and Gustave Flaubert. He was an artist, +and she in many respects was _bourgeoise_. He saw all things at +their worst; she saw them better than they were. Flaubert wrote +to her in surprise as follows: "In spite of your large sphinx eyes, +you have seen the world through gold colour." + +She loved the lower classes; he thought them detestable, +and qualified universal suffrage as "a disgrace to the human mind." +She preached concord, the union of classes, whilst he gave his +opinion as follows: + +"I believe that the poor hate the rich, and that the rich are afraid +of the poor. It will be like this eternally." + +It was always thus. On every subject the opinion of the one was +sure to be the direct opposite of the opinion of the other. +This was just what had attracted them. + +"I should not be interested in myself," George Sand said, "if I +had the honour of meeting myself." She was interested in Flaubert, +as she had divined that he was her antithesis. + +"The man who is Just passing," says Fantasio, "is charming. There are +all sorts of ideas in his mind which would be quite new to me." + +George Sand wanted to know something of these ideas which were new +to her. She admired Flaubert on account of all sorts of qualities +which she did not possess herself. She liked him, too, as she +felt that he was unhappy. + +She went to see him during the summer of 1866. They visited the +historic streets and old parts of Rouen together. She was both +charmed and surprised. She could not believe her eyes, as she +had never imagined that all that existed, and so near Paris, too. +She stayed in that house at Croisset in which Flaubert's whole +life was spent. It was a house with wide windows and a view +over the Seine. The hoarse, monotonous sound of the chain towing +the heavy boats along could be heard distinctly within the rooms. +Flaubert lived there with his mother and niece. To George Sand +everything there seemed to breathe of tranquillity and comfort, +but at the same time she brought away with her an impression +of sadness. She attributed this to the vicinity of the Seine, +coming and going as it does according to the bar. + +"The willows of the islets are always being covered and uncovered," +she writes; "it all looks very cold and sad.[52] + + +[52] _Correspondance:_ To Maurice Sand, August 10, 1866. + + +She was not really duped, though, by her own explanation. She knew +perfectly well that what makes a house sad or gay, warm or icy-cold +is not the outlook on to the surrounding country, but the soul of +those who inhabit it and who have fashioned it in their own image. +She had just been staying in the house of the misanthropist. + +When Moliere put the misanthropist on the stage with his +wretched-looking face, he gave him some of the features which +remind us so strongly of Flaubert. The most ordinary and +everyday events were always enough to put Alceste into a rage. +It was just the same with Flaubert. Everyday things which we are +philosophical enough to accept took his breath away. He was angry, +and he wanted to be angry. He was irritated with every one and +with everything, and he cultivated this irritation. He kept himself +in a continual state of exasperation, and this was his normal state. +In his letters he described himself as "worried with life," +"disgusted with everything," "always agitated and always indignant." +He spells _hhhindignant_ with several h's. He signs his letters, +"The Reverend Father Cruchard of the Barnabite Order, director of the +Ladies of Disenchantment." Added to all this, although there may +have been a certain amount of pose in his attitude, he was sincere. +He "roared" in his own study, when he was quite alone and there was no +one to be affected by his roaring. He was organized in a remarkable +way for suffering. He was both romantic and realistic, a keen +observer and an imaginative man. He borrowed some of the most pitiful +traits from reality, and recomposed them into a regular nightmare. +We agree with Flaubert that injustice and nonsense do exist in life. +But he gives us Nonsense itself, the seven-headed and ten-horned +beast of the Apocalypse. He sees this beast everywhere, it haunts +him and blocks up every avenue for him, so that he cannot see the +sublime beauties of the creation nor the splendour of human intelligence. + +In reply to all his wild harangues, George Sand gives wise answers, +smiling as she gives them, and using her common sense with which +to protect herself against the trickery of words. What has he +to complain of, this grown-up child who is too naive and who +expects too much? By what extraordinary misfortune has he such +an exceptionally unhappy lot? He is fairly well off and he has +great talent. How many people would envy him! He complains of life, +such as it is for every one, and of the present conditions of life, +which had never been better for any one at any epoch. What is the +use of getting irritated with life, since we do not wish to die? +Humanity seemed despicable to him, and he hated it. Was he not +a part of this humanity himself? Instead of cursing our fellow-men +for a whole crowd of imperfections inherent to their nature, +would it not be more just to pity them for such imperfections? +As to stupidity and nonsense, if he objected to them, it would be +better to pay no attention to them, instead of watching out for them +all the time. Beside all this, is there not more reason than we +imagine for every one of us to be indulgent towards the stupidity +of other people? + +"That poor stupidity of which we hear so much," exclaimed George Sand. +"I do not dislike it, as I look on it with maternal eyes." +The human race is absurd, undoubtedly, but we must own that we +contribute ourselves to this absurdity. + +There is something morbid in Flaubert's case, and with equal clearness +of vision George Sand points out to him the cause of it and the remedy. +The morbidness is caused in the first place by his loneliness, +and by the fact that he has severed all bonds which united him to the +rest of the universe. Woe be to those who are alone! The remedy +is the next consideration. Is there not, somewhere in the world, +a woman whom he could love and who would make him suffer? Is there +not a child somewhere whose father he could imagine himself to be, +and to whom he could devote himself? Such is the law of life. +Existence is intolerable to us as long as we only ask for our own +personal satisfaction, but it becomes dear to us from the day when we +make a present of it to another human being. + +There was the same antagonism in their literary opinions. +Flaubert was an artist, the theorist of the doctrine of art for art, +such as Theophile Gautier, the Goncourt brothers and the Parnassians +comprehended it, at about the same epoch. It is singularly +interesting to hear him formulate each article of this doctrine, +and to hear George Sand's fervent protestations in reply. +Flaubert considers that an author should not put himself into +his work, that he should not write his books with his heart, +and George Sand answers: + +"I do not understand at all, then. Oh no, it is all incomprehensible +to me." + +With what was an author to write his books, if not with his own +sentiments and emotions? Was he to write them with the hearts +of other people? Flaubert maintained that an author should only +write for about twenty persons, unless he simply wrote for himself, +"like a _bourgeois_ turning his serviette-rings round in his attic." +George Sand was of opinion that an author should write "for all those +who can profit by good reading." Flaubert confesses that if attention +be paid to the old distinction between matter and form, he should give +the greater importance to form, in which he had a religious belief. +He considered that in the correctness of the putting together, +in the rarity of the elements, the polish of the surface and +the perfect harmony of the whole there was an intrinsic virtue, +a kind of divine force. In conclusion, he adds: + +"I endeavour to think well always, _in order to_ write well, +but I do not conceal the fact that my object is to write well." + +This, then, was the secret of that working up of the style, +until it became a mania with him and developed into a torture. +We all know of the days of anguish which Flaubert spent in searching +for a word that escaped him, and the weeks that he devoted to rounding +off one of his periods. He would never write these down until he +had said them to himself, or, as he put it himself, until "they +had gone through his jaw." He would not allow two complements +in the same phrase, and we are told that he was ill after reading +in one of his own books the following words: "Une couronne _de_ +fleurs _d_'oranger." + +"You do not know what it is," he wrote, "to spend a whole day holding +one's head and squeezing one's brains to find a word. Ideas flow +with you freely and continually, like a stream. With me they come +like trickling water, and it is only by a huge work of art that I +can get a waterfall. Ah, I have had some experience of the terrible +torture of style!" No, George Sand certainly had no experience +of this kind, and she could not even conceive of such torture. +It amazed her to hear of such painful labour, for, personally, she let +the wind play on her "old harp" just as it listed. + +Briefly, she considered that her friend was the victim of a +hopeless error. He took literature for the essential thing, but there +was something before all literature, and that something was life. +"The Holy of Holies, as you call literature, is only secondary +to me in life. I have always loved some one better than it, +and my family better than that some one." + +This, then, was the keynote of the argument. George Sand considered +that life is not only a pretext for literature, but that literature +should always refer to life and should be regulated by life, +as by a model which takes the precedence of it and goes far +beyond it. This, too, is our opinion. + +The state of mind which can be read between the lines in George Sand's +letters to Flaubert is serenity, and this is also the characteristic +of her work during the last period of her life. Her "last style" +is that of _Jean de la Rocke_, published in 1860. A young nobleman, +Jean de la Roche, loses his heart to the exquisite Love Butler. +She returns his affection, but the jealousy of a young brother +obliges them to separate. In order to be near the woman he loves, +Jean de la Roche disguises himself as a guide, and accompanies +the whole family in an excursion through the Auvergne mountains. +A young nobleman as a guide is by no means an ordinary thing, +but in love affairs such disguises are admitted. Lovers in the +writings of Marivaux took the parts of servants, and in former +days no one was surprised to meet with princes in disguise on the +high-roads. + +George Sand's masterpiece of this kind is undoubtedly _Le Marquis +de Villemer_, published in 1861. A provincial _chateau_, +an old aristocratic woman, sceptical and indulgent, two brothers +capable of being rivals without ceasing to be friends, a young +girl of noble birth, but poor, calumny being spread abroad, +but quickly repudiated, some wonderful pages of description, +and some elegant, sinuous conversations. All this has a certain charm. +The poor girl marries the Marquis in the end. This, too, is a return +to former days, to the days when kings married shepherdesses. +The pleasure that we have in reading such novels is very much +like that which we used to feel on hearing fairy-stories. + +"If some one were to tell me the story of _Peau d'Ane_, I should +be delighted," confessed La Fontaine, and surely it would be bad +form to be more difficult and over-nice than he was. Big children +as we are, we need stories which give food to our imagination, +after being disappointed by the realities of life. This is perhaps +the very object of the novel. Romance is not necessarily an exaggerated +aspiration towards imaginary things. It is something else too. +It is the revolt of the soul which is oppressed by the yoke +of Nature. It is the expression of that tendency within us towards +a freedom which is impossible, but of which we nevertheless dream. +An iron law presides over our destiny. Around us and within us, +the series of causes and effects continues to unwind its hard chain. +Every single one of our deeds bears its consequence, and this goes +on to eternity. Every fault of ours will bring its chastisement. +Every weakness will have to be made good. There is not a moment +of oblivion, not an instant when we may cease to be on our guard. +Romantic illusion is, then, just an attempt to escape, at least in +imagination, from the tyranny of universal order. + +It is impossible, in this volume, to consider all George Sand's works. +Some of her others are charming, but the whole series would +perhaps appear somewhat monotonous. There is, however, one novel +of this epoch to which we must call attention, as it is like a +burst of thunder during calm weather. It also reveals an aspect +of George Sand's ideas which should not be passed over lightly. +This book was perhaps the only one George Sand wrote under the +influence of anger. We refer to _Mademoiselle La Quintinie_. +Octave Feuillet had just published his _Histoire de Sibylle_, +and this book made George Sand furiously angry. We are at a loss +to comprehend her indignation. Feuillet's novel is very graceful +and quite inoffensive. Sibylle is a fanciful young person, +who from her earliest childhood dreams of impossible things. +She wants her grandfather to get a star for her, and another time +she wants to ride on the swan's back as it swims in the pool. +When she is being prepared for her first communion, she has +doubts about the truth of the Christian religion, but one night, +during a storm, the priest of the place springs into a boat and goes +to the rescue of some sailors in peril. All the difficulties +of theological interpretations are at once dispelled for her. +A young man falls in love with her, but on discovering that he is +not a believer she endeavours to convert him, and goes moonlight +walks with him. Moonlight is sometimes dangerous for young girls, +and, after one of these sentimental and theological strolls, she has +a mysterious ailment. . . . + +In order to understand George Sand's anger on reading this novel, +which was both religious and social, and at the same time very harmless, +we must know what her state of mind was on the essential question +of religion. + +In the first place, George Sand was not hostile to religious ideas. +She had a religion. There is a George Sand religion. There are not +many dogmas, and the creed is simple. George Sand believed firmly +in the existence of God. Without the notion of God, nothing can +be explained and no problem solved. This God is not merely the +"first cause." It is a personal and conscious God, whose essential, +if not sole, function is to forgive--every one. + +"The dogma of hell," she writes, "is a monstrosity, an imposture, +a barbarism. . . . It is impious to doubt God's infinite pity, +and to think that He does not always pardon, even the most guilty +of men." This is certainly the most complete application that has ever +been made of the law of pardon. This God is not the God of Jacob, +nor of Pascal, nor even of Voltaire. He is not an unknown God either. +He is the God of Beranger and of all good people. George Sand +believed also, very firmly, in the immortality of the soul. +On losing any of her family, the certainty of going to them some day +was her great consolation. + +"I see future and eternal life before me as a certainty," she said; +"it is like a light, and, thanks to its brilliancy, other things +cannot be seen; but the light is there, and that is all I need." +Her belief was, then, in the existence of God, the goodness of +Providence and the immortality of the soul. George Sand was an adept +in natural religion. + +She did not accept the idea of any revealed religion, and there +was one of these revealed religions that she execrated. +This was the Catholic religion. Her correspondence on this subject +during the period of the Second Empire is most significant. +She was a personal enemy of the Church, and spoke of the Jesuits +as a subscriber to the _Siecle_ might do to-day. She feared +the dagger of the Jesuits for Napoleon III, but at the same +time she hoped there might be a frustrated attempt at murder, +so that his eyes might be opened. The great danger of modern times, +according to her, was the development of the clerical spirit. +She was not an advocate for liberty of education either. +"The priestly spirit has been encouraged," she wrote.[53] "France +is overrun with convents, and wretched friars have been allowed +to take possession of education." She considered that wherever +the Church was mistress, it left its marks, which were unmistakable: +stupidity and brutishness. She gave Brittany as an example. + + +[53] _Correspondance:_ To Barbes, May 12, 1867. + + +"There is nothing left," she writes, "when the priest and Catholic +vandalism have passed by, destroying the monuments of the old world +and leaving their lice for the future."[54] + + +[54] _Ibid.:_ To Flaubert, September 21, 1860. + + +It is no use attempting to ignore the fact. This is anti-clericalism +in all its violence. Is it not curious that this passion, when once +it takes possession of even the most distinguished minds, causes them +to lose all sentiment of measure, of propriety and of dignity. + +_Mademoiselle La Quintinie_ is the result of a fit of anti-clerical +mania. George Sand gives, in this novel, the counterpart of _Sibylle_. +Emile Lemontier, a free-thinker, is in love with the daughter of +General La Quintinie. Emile is troubled in his mind because, as his +_fiancee_ is a Catholic, he knows she will have to have a confessor. +The idea is intolerable to him, as, like Monsieur Homais, he considers +that a husband could not endure the idea of his wife having private +conversations with one of those individuals. Mademoiselle La +Quintinie's confessor is a certain Moreali, a near relative of Eugene +Sue's Rodin. The whole novel turns on the struggle between Emile +and Moreali, which ends in the final discomfiture of Moreali. +Mademoiselle La Quintinie is to marry Emile, who will teach her to be +a free-thinker. Emile is proud of his work of drawing a soul away +from Christian communion. He considers that the light of reason +is always sufficient for illuminating the path in a woman's life. +He thinks that her natural rectitude will prove sufficient for making +a good woman of her. I do not wish to call this into question, +but even if she should not err, is it not possible that she may suffer? +This free-thinker imagines that it is possible to tear belief +from a heart without rending it and causing an incurable wound. +Oh, what a poor psychologist! He forgets that beliefis the +summing up and the continuation of the belief of a whole series +of generations. He does not hear the distant murmur of the prayers +of by-gone years. It is in vain to endeavour to stifle those prayers; +they will be heard for ever within the crushed and desolate soul. + +_Mademoiselle La Quintinie_ is a work of hatred. George Sand was +not successful with it. She had no vocation for writing such books, +and she was not accustomed to writing them. It is a novel full +of tiresome dissertations, and it is extremely dull. + +From that date, though, George Sand experienced the joy of a +certain popularity. At theatrical performances and at funerals the +students manifested in her honour. It was the same for Sainte-Beuve, +but this does not seem to have made either of them any greater. + +We will pass over all this, and turn to something that we can admire. +The robust and triumphant old age of George Sand was admirable. +Nearly every year she went to some fresh place in France to find a +setting for her stories. She had to earn her living to the very last, +and was doomed to write novels for ever. "I shall be turning my wheel +when I die," she used to say, and, after all, this is the proper +ending for a literary worker. + +In 1870 and 1871, she suffered all the anguish of the "Terrible Year." +When once the nightmare was over, she set to work once more like +a true daughter of courageous France, unwilling to give in. +She was as hardy as iron as she grew old. "I walk to the river," +she wrote in 1872, "and bathe in the cold water, warm as I am. +. . . I am of the same nature as the grass in the field. +Sunshine and water are all I need." + +For a woman of sixty-eight to be able to bathe every day in the cold +water of the Indre is a great deal. In May, 1876, she was not well, +and had to stay in bed. She was ill for ten days, and died without +suffering much. She is buried at Nohant, according to her wishes, +so that her last sleep is in her beloved Berry. + + +In conclusion, we would say just a few words about George Sand's genius, +and the place that she takes in the history of the French novel. + +On comparing George Sand with the novelists of her time, what strikes us +most is how different she was from them. She is neither like Balzac, +Stendhal, nor Merimee, nor any story-teller of our thoughtful, +clever and refined epoch. She reminds us more of the "old novelists," +of those who told stories of chivalrous deeds and of old legends, or, +to go still further back, she reminds us of the _aedes_ of old Greece. +In the early days of a nation there were always men who went to the +crowd and charmed them with the stories they told in a wordy way. +They scarcely knew whether they invented these stories as they +told them, or whether they had heard them somewhere. They could +not tell either which was fiction and which reality, for all +reality seemed wonderful to them. All the people about whom they +told were great, all objects were good and everything beautiful. +They mingled nursery-tales with myths that were quite sensible, and +the history of nations with children's stories. They were called poets. + +George Sand did not employ a versified form for her stories, +but she belonged to the family of these poets. She was a poet +herself who had lost her way and come into our century of prose, +and she continued her singing. + +Like these early poets, she was primitive. Like them, she obeyed +a god within her. All her talent was instinctive, and she had all +the ease of instinctive talent. When Flaubert complained to George +Sand of the "tortures" that style cost him, she endeavoured to admire him. + +"When I see the difficulty that my old friend has in writing his novel, +I am discouraged about my own case, and I say to myself that I am +writing poor sort of literature." + +This was merely her charity, for she never understood that there could +be any effort in writing. Consequently she could not understand +that it should cause suffering. For her, writing was a pleasure, +as it was the satisfaction of a need. As her works were no effort +to her, they left no trace in her memory. She had not intended +to write them, and, when once written, she forgot them. + +"_Consuelo and La Comtesse de Rudolstadt_, what are these books?" +she asks. "Did I write them? I do not remember a single word +of them." + +Her novels were like fruit, which, when ripe, fell away from her. +George Sand always returned to the celebration of certain great +themes which are the eternal subjects of all poetry, subjects such +as love and nature, and sentiments like enthusiasm and pity. +The very language completes the illusion. The choice of words was often +far from perfect, as George Sand's vocabulary was often uncertain, +and her expression lacked precision and relief. But she had the +gift of imagery, and her images were always delightfully fresh. +She never lost that rare faculty which she possessed of being surprised +at things, so that she looked at everything with youthful eyes. +There is a certain movement which carries the reader on, and a rhythm +that is soothing. She develops the French phrase slowly perhaps, +but without any confusion. Her language is like those rivers which flow +along full and limpid, between flowery banks and oases of verdure, +rivers by the side of which the traveller loves to linger and to lose +himself in dreams. + +The share which belongs to George Sand in the history of the French +novel is that of having impregnated the novel with the poetry +in her own soul. She gave to the novel a breadth and a range +which it had never hitherto had. She celebrated the hymn of Nature, +of love and of goodness in it. She revealed to us the country +and the peasants of France. She gave satisfaction to the romantic +tendency which is in every one of us, to a more or less degree. + +All this is more even than is needed to ensure her fame. She denied +ever having written for posterity, and she predicted that in fifty +years she would be forgotten. It may be that there has been for her, +as there is for every illustrious author who dies, a time of test +and a period of neglect. The triumph of naturalism, by influencing +taste for a time, may have stopped our reading George Sand. +At present we are just as tired of documentary literature as we +are disgusted with brutal literature. We are gradually coming back +to a better comprehension of what there is of "truth" in George Sand's +conception of the novel. This may be summed up in a few words-- +to charm, to touch and to console. Those of us who know something +of life may perhaps wonder whether to console may not be the final +aim of literature. George Sand's literary ideal may be read in the +following words, which she wrote to Flaubert: + +"You make the people who read your books still sadder than they +were before. I want to make them less unhappy." She tried +to do this, and she often succeeded in her attempt. What greater +praise can we give to her than that? And how can we help adding +a little gratitude and affection to our admiration for the woman +who was the good fairy of the contemporary novel? + + +THE END + + +End of the Project Gutenberg Etext of George Sand by Rene Doumic + + diff --git a/old/old/sandb10.zip b/old/old/sandb10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..188a764 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/sandb10.zip |