george sand-第44章

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oint　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