george sand-第7部分

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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；　agreeabl