The Masterpieces of George Sand, Amandine Lucille Aurore Dupin, Baroness Dudevant, NOW…

WITH SIX PHOTOGRAVURES AFTER PAINTINGS BY J. B. GRAFF, AND PORTRAIT AFTER THE DRAWING BY COUTURE

IN ONE VOLUME

PRINTED ONLY FOR SUBSCRIBERS BY GEORGE BARRIE & SON PHILADELPHIA

A CORNER AT THE OPERA BALL.

Thérèse was about to retire, when she heard her name mentioned in a corner. She turned and saw the man she had loved so well, seated between two masked damsels.

CONTENTS

MEMOIR SHE AND HE TO MADEMOISELLE JACQUES CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III CHAPTER IV CHAPTER V CHAPTER VI CHAPTER VII CHAPTER VIII CHAPTER IX CHAPTER X CHAPTER XI CHAPTER XII CHAPTER XIII CHAPTER XIV LAVINIA

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS MEMOIR SHE AND HE LAVINIA

A CORNER AT THE OPERA BALL. PORTRAIT OF GEORGE SAND. LAURENT PAINTS PALMER'S PORTRAIT. THEIR FIRST SUPPER. A FANTASTIC VISION. THE SEPARATION. LIONEL SURPRISES LAVINIA.

GEORGE SAND.

After the Crayon Portrait by Couture, in the Musée Carnavalet, Paris.

GEORGE SAND

MEMOIR

There is a natural desire to know something of the parentage and birth of renowned authors, and to learn something that may throw light on the formative influences which have operated in producing the works that have rendered them famous. In the case of George Sand, whose nature offers contrasts as striking as were the social conditions of her parents, this desire is particularly strong; therefore, although the limits prescribed to this sketch prevent either an exhaustive review of her life being undertaken, or a psychological study being entered upon, such details may be given as will prove useful and not without interest to readers of this famous writer.

Amandine Lucille Aurore Dupin, who adopted the literary name of George Sand, was born in Paris on July 5, 1804. Her father, Maurice Dupin de Francueil, was of aristocratic birth, being the son of Monsieur Dupin de Francueil and Marie Aurore de Saxe, daughter of Marshal Saxe, a natural son of Augustus II, Elector of Saxony, who was allied to the Bourbons by the marriage of his sister to the Dauphin, the father of Louis XVI. Marie Aurore de Saxe, previous to her marriage with Monsieur Dupin de Francueil, had been the wife of Comte de Horn, a natural son of Louis XV. The author's mother, Antoinette Victoire Sophie Delaborde, was the daughter of a bird-fancier in Paris.

These facts concerning her parentage show the association of the aristocratic with the plebeian in the blood of the author.

Her grandfather was a provincial gentleman of moderate fortune, who died within a few years of his marriage to Comtesse de Horn, who had imbibed all the aristocratic prejudices of her family. Her father, Maurice Dupin (his father had abandoned the suffix De Francueil), was the object of Madame Dupin's tenderest affection and warmest hopes; but, although of a most amiable disposition, he was somewhat reckless and, as his marriage proved, independent in his views. The disturbed condition of France under the Directory left him little choice as to a profession, so he entered the army. He became a lieutenant as the reward of his services at the battle of Marengo in 1800. It was during his sojourn in Italy that he made the acquaintance of Antoinette Delaborde, whose devoted care and nursing during a severe illness resulted in his becoming deeply attached to her. The lieutenant was only twenty-six years old, and his mistress was four years his senior. The liaison was suspected by Madame Dupin, and evoked great opposition on her part; but, in spite of

her wounded sentiments, and notwithstanding the fact that Mademoiselle Delaborde was already the mother of two children, the lovers were married in June, 1804. On July 5, 1804, as has been stated, Amandine Lucille Aurore Dupin was born.

Time lightened the weight of the blow to Madame Dupin, who at last consented to recognize her son's wife; but the two women rarely met for some years. The elder Madame Dupin resided at Nohant (a spot which George Sand's writings have made famous), a secluded estate in the centre of France, near La Châtre, in the Department of the Indre. Maurice, who had now become a captain, made his home in Paris, and, when not on duty, spent his time there with his wife and their little daughter in quiet happiness. The good judgment of the younger Madame Dupin, and her kindly disposition and sincere and faithful affection for her husband and child, seem to have found a counterpart in Captain Dupin, and thus, within their own household, they enjoyed all that was essential to their mutual inclinations.

The infant life of George Sand was passed in the unpretentious home in Rue Grange-Batelière, her mother's good sense materially aiding the development of the child's intelligence. This peaceful life, however, was not long to be undisturbed; for the prolonged absence of Captain Dupin, who was serving in Madrid as aide-de-camp to Murat, induced Madame Dupin to journey thither with her child to join him. After a stay of several weeks, the captain escorted his wife and little daughter to France, where they went to the home of the elder Madame Dupin. They had not long enjoyed the restful recreation of this quiet spot, when Captain Dupin was killed by being thrown from his horse one night on returning from La Châtre.

Aurore was only four years old at the time of this tragic event, which was to be of such momentous consequence to her. Although the feelings of the elder Madame Dupin lost some of their bitterness after the death of her son, there was still too wide a gap between the grandmother, with her class prejudices, and the simple-natured, plebeian daughter-in-law to admit of concord between them, or of a mutual understanding as to the education of the young girl, upon whom, after Captain Dupin's death, the grandmother seemed to centre all her affection. The child became the source of constant conflict, and, although she was permitted all freedom in physical exercise and enjoyment, and even in the matter of education, she suffered bitter sorrow because of the disputes and quarrels of which she was the unwitting cause. Notwithstanding the heart-sorrow the little one endured, she was already cultivating her vivid imagination and developing her contemplative disposition, which were, even thus early, marked characteristics. We learn that on the occasion of her father's

death, when she was but four years old, she fell into a long reverie, during which she seemed to realize the meaning of death as she mused in silent and seemingly apathetic abstraction. These dreamy periods were so frequent that she soon acquired a stupid look, speaking of which she says: "It has been always applied to me, and, consequently, it must be true."

Her Histoire de ma Vie throws some very interesting light on these earlier years. Aurore was able to read well at four years of age. She studied grammar under old Deschartres, a very pedantic personage, who had formerly acted as secretary to her grandfather, and later as tutor to her father, and who formed part of the household at Nohant. Her grandmother instructed her in music, and sought to impress her with the aristocratic principles which should govern her conduct. Her religious training was formed—if it can be said that she possessed any very clear idea on this subject—on the principles of Voltaire and Rousseau, expounded by the elder Madame Dupin, offset by the simple but devout Christian teaching of Aurore's mother, whose sincere faith better suited the mind of her daughter than did the cold and analytical reasoning of her grandmother.

From the irksome routine of lessons, however, the child turned to the freedom and wild enjoyment of outdoor life. She had as companions in her games a boy and girl who were inmates of the home, the former her half-brother, and the latter Ursule, who in later years was her faithful servant. With these and the peasant children of the neighborhood, she was able to pass numberless hours face to face with Nature, in whose manifold forms she took unbounded delight. Gathered about the fires they kindled in the meadows, they would romp and dance, or vary the pleasure by story-telling. When the hemp-dressers assembled at the farm of an evening, Aurore took the lead in the stories that were told; but she tells us that she could never succeed in evoking one of the visions with which the peasants were familiar. The great beast had appeared to them all, at least once; but she experienced only the excitement of disturbed nerves.

When eight years old, the child had acquired a fair knowledge of her native language, and composition and the cultivation of style were now being taught her, added to which were such subjects as Greek, prosody, and botany; the natural result of which was a brain taxed with details, but lacking in a clear perception of the ideas and principles sought to be established. Yet the imaginative mind was alert; it was storing up a fund of fancy that the future could draw upon almost limitlessly. The conflict between her mother and her grandmother was also exerting a formative influence on the child's mind in cooperation with her tenderness of heart. She could ill bear the grandmother's calm but dignified reproaches, though she entertained for her no little affection.

Constantly reminded of her aristocratic claims, and conscious of the hardly veiled contempt in which her mother was held by the elder Madame Dupin, she grew to despise the pretensions of caste, and her leanings became thoroughly democratic, as if the spontaneous germination of her sorrows. Her mother's angry outbreaks caused her not a tithe of the sorrow that she endured at the cold reproofs of her grandmother; hence, it was apparent to the latter that Aurore's love for her mother was greater than that for herself. She was, however, bent on securing the full love of her granddaughter and on obtaining sole guardianship. To her she looked as her heir, on whom it was incumbent to espouse the prejudices of the aristocracy.

The frequent disputes that arose resulted at length in a separation. The mother was, after much persuasion, brought to the belief that her daughter's future would be best assured by her child's remaining at Nohant in the care of her grandmother; while she retired to Paris, supported by the slender income from her late husband's estate. It was arranged that Aurore should accompany her grandmother to Paris, where she had a house for the winter, when the child could spend whole days in the company of her beloved mother, while, during the summer, the latter would come to Nohant. The grandmother, finding that the child's affection for her mother showed no diminution, but rather the reverse, and that her own share in her granddaughter's affection was rather that inspired by respect and veneration, became more jealous than ever, and sought to make the separation a real one. Hence, after a few years, the visits to Paris ceased.

During all this time, Aurore had been reading promiscuously, but there had been no definite method in her education, and her religious tendencies were left almost free to her own impulses. She had conversed with Nature; she despised conventionality; she had given free rein to her fancy; she had defined little. Her heart was not satisfied, and her mind was reaching out to an ideal.

Aurore still continued, for a long time, to hope that her mother and grandmother would be brought together again and her happiness consummated; but this hope was cruelly shattered. One day, she was startled by some disclosures her grandmother made respecting the past life of Aurore's mother, and which, in the narrator's opinion, rendered it of the first importance that the mother and the daughter should live apart. The moment was badly chosen, in a fit of anger and jealousy, and the loving girl resented her guardian's imprudence most bitterly, while suffering intensely. Her affection for her grandmother was thereby lessened, while her despised mother became dearer to her. She resolved to abandon all those material advantages that were promised by remaining with her grandmother, to neglect instruction, and to renounce accomplishments. She rebelled against the lessons of Deschartres, and, indeed, became a thorough mutineer. This was the situation when Aurore approached her fourteenth year; her grandmother, in view of the

circumstances, decided to send her to a convent to complete an education befitting her social position. The Couvent des Anglaises was selected, as being the best institution for girls of aristocratic families.

The young girl entered the convent, weary at heart, wounded in her dearest affections: she found it a place of rest. She tells, in the story of her life, of the sisters and pupils, the routine of instruction, the petty quarrels, the pastimes, and the discipline; of the quest of imaginary captives whose release was undertaken; of the wanderings in vaults and passages. Though Aurore was of a dreamy nature, yet her disposition manifested extremes; for at times she abandoned herself to boisterous enjoyment. So in the convent she became resigned to her lot, yet, yielding to her spirit of independence, she joined in the pranks of the mischievous scholars. Of the two classes into which the girls were divided,—sages and diables,—Aurore made choice of the latter. This life continued for nearly two years, the girl rarely leaving the convent even for a single day, being deprived of her summer vacations by her grandmother, who wished to bring her to a realization of the pleasure and freedom of the Nohant home, which she would be the better capable of by reason of her prolonged absence.

The routine of somewhat indifferent and desultory study and the enjoyment of the diables' pranks were soon to give way to a new impulse. Hitherto, Aurore had felt no attachment to the religious exercises of the convent; but one day she was seated in an obscure corner of the convent chapel, when a spiritual enthusiasm awoke in her mind. She writes of this circumstance: "In an instant, it broke forth, like some passion quickened in a soul that knows not its own force.... All her needs were of the heart, and that was exhausted." The fervent religious emotion which she experienced at once transformed her. With her whole-natured devotion, she yields to the impulse; faith finds her soul unresisting, and she bends to the divine grace that appeals to her. Yet the transformation swayed her soul with its consequences; she shed the scalding tears of the pious, she experienced the exhaustion of feverish exaltation and protracted meditation, but she found a personal faith; and, through all the emotions and changes of the turbulent years

that followed, the pure faith that she imbibed in the silent convent cloisters was never wholly obscured. This change wrought wonders in the young girl's conduct; she was no longer a hoyden, but kept herself strictly within the rules of the convent, and devoted herself with regularity to its prescribed studies, yet with no more real interest than before.

In the early part of 1820, Madame Dupin the elder fell seriously ill, and, believing that her life would soon close, she desired her granddaughter's return to Nohant. The lapse of time and the more serious disposition of the latter were calculated to help Aurore in the cares of the household that now devolved upon her, and in the nursing of her grandmother, to whom she devoted herself assiduously during the ten months that remained of her life. Her religious enthusiasm underwent some abatement after her return, and the temporary absences from Madame Dupin's bedside were spent in melancholy reverie, interrupted by active exercise. At the convent, she had been counselled by her spiritual adviser not to entertain the idea of a nun's life, for which she had expressed a desire, but to yield to temporal and physical diversions. At home, she adopted a middle course, neglecting neither her religious nor her temporal duties, while still bent on taking the veil at a later period. It was at this time that she was taught horseback riding by her

half-brother Hippolyte, who had become a cavalryman. This exercise became her favorite pastime, and by it she was able to break the monotony of her life and enjoy the beauties of the surrounding country, which, in its peaceful charm and its succession of gentle scenes, was in harmony with her contemplative mind, and evoked the spirit of poetry within her.

The consciousness of the insufficiency of the education she had hitherto received now became apparent to Aurore, and she determined to effect her own instruction. She therefore read eagerly, her convent teaching and experience inclining her first to study works of Christian doctrine and practice, though she pursued her reading with great indefiniteness of plan. The perusal and comparison of the Imitation of Christ with that of Chateaubriand's Génie du Christianisme involved her in serious doubts and apprehensions; her faith in Catholicism was at least sincere, but the reasonings and discrepancies she found in these works were such as to appeal to her intelligence while puzzling her faith in the doctrines. In the orderly obedience to the teachings of the Romish church rendered in the quiet convent, there was nothing to weaken the faith in the system; but face to face with the practice of its tenets, and in view of its inconsequence, apparently, in the lives of the country people by whom she was surrounded, formidable difficulties arose

in her conscience. The same wholeness of character and independence of judgment that had hitherto marked her conduct forbade her to give adhesion to principles which were at variance with her reason and conscience. To her, the practice of the confession and the doctrine that salvation could be obtained only by those within the pale of the orthodox Catholic communion were absolutely unacceptable. In her eager search for the truth, she studied the works of the philosophers—Aristotle, Montaigne, Bacon, Pascal, Bossuet, Locke, Leibnitz, Montesquieu, Mably, Condillac. Of these, she preferred Leibnitz, and, speaking of her study of this author, she says: "In reading Leibnitz, I unconsciously became a Protestant." She could not conceive of that being right which denied the liberty of conscience. So far, the result, however, was, as might have been expected, much knowledge of opinions, yet no very definite conviction, or clear establishment of principles; but the desire to arrive at a true ideal faith was intensified.

After the philosophers, came the moralists and poets: La Bruyère, Virgil, Dante, Shakespeare, Milton, Byron, Pope. These writers were read by the young girl with insatiable delight; but, as in the case of the philosophers, without system. Thought piled on thought, principle jostled against principle; all rapidly mastered and sympathetically appreciated. The master was yet to be found, but he was at hand. Jean-Jacques Rousseau's charm of eloquence and powerful logic gave her a halting-point for her reason, and pointed the way to her. Her already relaxed hold on Catholicism was now released.