george sand-第24章

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to　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　certai