george sand-第11章

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ough　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