GEORGE SAND.
A130IIT ten years ago, such a speculation as publishing an English vor- lion of George Sand's works would have been impossible, so virulent Iva the prejudice against them in this country. An article appeared in the Quarterly Review, on French novels in general, in which, while the whole were held up to execration for "immorality," special execration was invoked for the writings of the lady who chooses the pseudonyme of George Sand. Her repute in England, at that time, might be called infamous. There was no bound to the expression of hatred ; which, tnx- satisfied with facts, sought a complement to its satisfaction in fables. The events of her remarkable but imperfectly known life were eked out with inventions; her eccentricities of conduct suggested the idea of a monstee, morally and physically. These romances were bandied about as a war- rant to seal the fatal judgment universally pronounced on her works. Not that they were universally read : most of those who condemned would have resented as an affront the imputation of being one of her readers ; and among some of the loudest, we know, were those who took their opinion at second-hand. But, by a fiction similar to that which assumes everybody to be familiar with the laws of England, everybody presumed himself competent to join in the outcry against the unknown author, through a kind of instinctive knowledge as to the drift of 'her doctrines. Since that time 'there has been a great reaction. Signor Mazzini wrote a counter-statement in a monthly publication that has been discontinued ; more precise accounts of the author appeared in the Westminster Review, and more recently again in the Foreign Quar- terly Review, by a writer whose disposition in her favour did not pre-. vent him from taking an English view on the point of morals, and who was enabled, by familiar acquaintance with the text, and by discriminatiog tact, to put the English reader in possession of a key to the truth. lb the bitter prejudice succeeded doubt, then curiosity ; and evidences of the altered feeling multiply. Allusions to the writings of George Sand, based upon more correct knowledge, occur with increasing frequency in English periodicals ; the sale of her works in London is extensive ; and the list of her habitual English readers would exhibit several names known to lite- rattan of the discreetest kind. There is at once a growing desire ito know what is this creature George Sand, and a corresponding desire .tti make her known to the English public. Some months back,.Frasnts Magazine, a periodical whose licences are seldom of a kind at which con- ventional authority refuses to wink, published an abridged version of tale by the tabooed author ; we know that a beneficed clergyman of the Established Church has been engaged in translating one of her most
pleasing fictions; and finally, there is tangible proof of the double dispo- sition in the enterprise before us.
What, then, is this writer, who is about to be introduced to the Eng- lish public ? We will put the reply in as plain and compact a shape as we Can.
We cannot meddle with George Sand's private life, further than to say, that being the victim of a "manage de convenance," she was not of a nature to suffer injustice with repining acquiescence, but left her husband, and became a powerful writer against matches of interest. Some of the stories current about her subsequent life are "founded upon fact," but they are mixed up with the most extravagant inventions. We know enough to be conscious that we are ignorant of many things essential to a true judgment upon her as a woman. It is not difficult to account for the extreme misrepresentation to which her works have been subjected in England. With different stand- ards, we in England deem French works of fiction in general to be immoral : no writer in France avows his real opinions with more frank- ness than George Sand, sets them forth with equal power, or owns less servility towards conventional authority; hence, among free writers, she is the most free; and, by an easy confusion of terms, we assume that among the licentious she is the most licentious. That, however, is a false conclusion in more than one important re- spect. Writing not for English but for French readers, living in a French atmosphere, her works necessarily partake of French manners. Ent, like the productions of all great artists, they rise above mere na- tionality. Raphael's models were Italian, but the creations of his pencil belong rather to human nature at large than to Italy in particular; and 'so it is with Sand. In many ways, the severest English moralist would confess that her writings are strikingly distinguished from those of her countrymen, by their appeal to the highest feelings of human nature against conventional immoralities in France. In the first place, she is eminently serious and earnest ; she does not make light of crime or in- justice, or even of had taste, but never ceases to contend for refinement and self-control. She assails "manages de convenance" on account of their immoral tendencies. It is a mistake to suppose that she attacks the institution of marriage, or advocates absence of law in such matters : she attacks not the institution but abuses of it ; and she is the missionary of no theory on that subject. In fact, he who sought any positive doctrines in her works would be disappointed. The English reader would rather complain of the absence of positive doctrine. It is one of our national peculiarities, connected with our boasted "practical sense," but in itself not always very sensible, that we are impatient of the writer who exposes abuses without having a system, cut and dry, by way of substitute for that which he condemns. It is, indeed, a very serious weakness in our character, which makes us shrink effeminately from the exposure of a danger unless we have the remedy at hand. George Sand is a militant writer; she does denounce abuses, or rather she illustrates their working; she does not propound doctrinal or theoretical systems : we may, in judg- ing her by an English standard, blame her for the omission ; but there is neither sense nor justice, while we do so, in falsely assuming that she ad- vocates St. Simonian doctrines, or some such extravagancies, when in fact she enunciates nothing of a scheme-making sort. As Sand's writings are principally fictions, in which, as we say, her views are rather illustrated than expounded didactically—set forth in ac- tion and dialogue rather than preached by the author—it is not easy to extract from the mass a definite formula which may be presented to the reader as the key to the whole. But it is not impossible to deduce some clue from works by one who never writes without a purpose, guided by broad and much-considered opinions. We set aside for the moment all question as to the soundness of those opinions, but will endeavour to collect for the reader what it is that George Sand inculcates.
She finds a vast deal of misery in society, arising from two sources,— first, the unsettled atate of opinion on moral points, involving the exist- ence of conflicting and incompatible laws and secondly, a sacrifice of high natural aspirations on a Procrustean bed of baser artificial require- rnents. Thus, in "manages de convenance," all the happiness of life arising from the culture and satisfaction of the affections is sacrificed to artificial and comparatively sterile arrangements for the combination of estates or the accumulation of wealth. Marriage is therefore a promi- nent, but it is not the sole object of Sand's strictures. Although she is a worshiper of all refinements, and therefore of those refinements which at- -tend high breeding, she finds that artificial distinctions of rank defeat those purposes of social refinement, by disregarding natural elevation of character and intellectual refinement. She paints true dignity as being found among such of the uneducated as trust in full faith to the promptings of nature and the innate sense of what is noble and good; also among the tribe of "artists "—using the word in its broadest sense, to signify all cultivators of liberal arts—because it is their vocation to develop the natural aspirations and capacities of human nature by a combined exer- cise of intellect and feeling. The Compagnon du Tour de France fur- nishes an instance and a striking trait of Sand's generous earnestness : tearing of AgricolePerdiguier's efforts to reform the system of compagnon- nage, (a sort of freemason trades union among the French working classes,) she helped him with pecuniary aid, and wrote a novel to show how cooperation and the artistic feeling ennoble the working man. All endeavour must be frustrated which has not motives that are true ; and therefore she demands, as an essential to all real goodness, unadulterated truth,—meaning by "truth," not that unattainable abstraction absolute truth, but that which is true to conviction. To that there should be tho- rough devotion at any price. Hence, in Jeanne, she exalts the devotion of a simple country girl who dies the devotee to an idle local superstition, but is ennobled by virtuous simplicity and self-denial. Goodness lacks the power of development without strength : in Andre you see a well- intentioned young man who becomes the instrument of dealing unhappi- ness around, because his weakness of character makes him yield to pa- ternal authority and other imposing influences, even for evil; and in Simon you see energy of character asserting and protecting what is good. Her whole works inculcate that you must accept life as you find it, min- gling trials with happiness ; must unswervingly do what seems to you, on profound and sincere conviction, right, and whatever most conduces to evoke good; mast pursue that purpose at all hazard, and against all ob- struction—even, it is to be inferred, against conventional authority, where that dictates what is bad ; but that you neither need nor ought ever to sacrifice kindliness. Truth, justice, and love, are the ruling ob- jects and powers of her ethics.
So much for doctrine, such as we have drawn it by inference from the events and characters of her books. These are worked out with wonder- ful potency of pen. Her description of persons, of scenery, of action, is as vivid, as distinct, as individualized, as Titian : the persons take their place in the memory, like Scott's, with real characters. It is not, how- ever, to be supposed that her manner is like that of Scott : she cannot in the same way recall a history or a pageant ; but she paints with equal force, and more delicacy, when pure nature, human or inanimate, is the subject. Her style is musical, plain, direct, and powerful. Addressing, be it ever remembered, a French and not an English public, she takes licences in the narration of incidents and love-passages which in England we hold it better to imagine than to describe : but in that respect she uses far more restraint than her native contemporaries, or than authors in our own country in the last generation; and, as we have said, is never, like our own writers even at this day, betrayed into levity, or the thea- trical exaltation of that which she knows to be worthless. Perhaps some part of the misconception on this head is derived from the fact that she paints with such surpassing power, and especially so paints emotion, that she seems to have gone beyond other writers. But her "immorality" must be sought in her doctrine rather than in her narrative—in the drift of the events rather than in the description.
Many of George Sand's books are so discreet, so freed from doctrinal or controversial pointseven by implication, and are so simply directed to il- lustrate the power of goodness and kindness in elevating the soul and dif- fusing happiness, that they might be placed in the hands of all. Such are the Mare au Diabk, the Peche de Monsieur Antoine, (one of her latest,) and several others. Some of her books tend, and most powerfully, to unsettle opinion on subjects for which in England we admit no dies pute : all make you think, all make a strong impression—make you de- test what is base, and love what is sincere, gererous, and kind. We have heard as much said by persons fully imbued with English Conservatism, on those grounds ; and we believe that the last sentenceexpresses pretty closely the judgment to which the greater number of her English readers would agree.
Among the numerous list of her works, are a few of a mystical kind ; such as the Stpt Chordes de la Lyre, which is often called a "prose poem." It is to us, like all books which obtain that designation, unin- telligible. Some readers detect profound reflections and purposes in it: we have been unable to comprehend it ; and must limit our judgment to an assertion, therefore, that it is incomprehensible, at least to minds not above the average.
We have endeavoured, by stating facts and traits rather than by formal criticism, to give the English reader a general idea of the famed writer now introduced to him. In many respects, the first work selected by the translator is characteristic ; but it is not in any respect the most striking of the author's writings, and is certainly not chosen for being the one least likely to startle English prejudices. It is the narrative of two episodes in the life of the hero, Lelio, an Italian tenor-singer. At the opening, he appears as "Nello," a young gondolier in the house of the Signora Aldini, the young widow of a Venetian nobleman. Affectionate, simple, weak, indolent, luxurious, sensible, and sincere, the blonde Bianca Aldini is the true type of the softer kind of Italian women, and is beauti- fully drawn. She falls in love with the young gondolier, and wishes to marry him; but he refuses: he responds to her love with all the ardour of youth; but, having a stronger mind, he descries afar the trials to which the unequal match would subject the lady—sees them foreshadowed in the conduct of her household—perceives that her character will not bear those trials—forewarns her, and leaves her. Again, years after, when Lelio is in the prime of life, changed in station, in person, and in name, Bianca's daughter, Alezia, falls in love with him, and wishes to elope. Alezia is a perfect contrast to her mother, though still of a strikingly Italian type—dark, lively, energetic, a woman at fifteen, and capable of sus- taming a conflict. But his former relation to her mother, pure as that was, and his foresight of trials which Alezia's youth not her weakness prevent her from anticipating, again induce Lelio to resign the tempting offer. Bianca has married again, and to her Lelio resigns the candidate for elope- ment; who afterwards marries according to her station; and Lelio pur- sues his career. The effect of the book as a whole is a melancholy regret: the reader feels that happiness has been sacrificed to artificial distinctions of society, which, having no reference to the aspirations of nature, cannot suffice to individual happiness. Lelio is the true nobleman. With noble and even royal blood in her veins—for, like some of our nobility, she might wear a royal coat, though with a bar sinister—the Marquise Du- devant abandoned her social rank to join the tribe of artists ; and she shows all the zeal of an emigrant in exalting her adopted race. In the Last of the Aldini, the singer certainly shines at the expense of the "blue blood" of Venice: he is superior in sense, honesty, devoted affec- tion, and energy ; while their " nobility " is a form, his is a substautial fact.
The translator has executed her task, thus far, with prai-eworthy painstaking to be faithful, and has succeeded well in the main. In the portions of the work that depend most upon style and expression, you become conscious of some crudity and stiffness in the translation; but where the effect depends more upon the substance of the story —the action and passion—there is considerable improvement. We ob- serve a few lades here and there, the result, no doubt, of attention wearied by its task, against which the revision of a competent friend
would have guarded the author,—such as the translation of "gondolier de place" into "a gondolier of the place," whereas it means what we might call a "street gondolier," in contradistinction to a private one— the hackney-coachman of Venice. Again, " seigneurie " is properly ren- dered "lordship" or "ladyship," not "highness." Sometimes one would desiderate more literal translation. For instance, it is not without inten- tion that George Sand applies to the hair of Lelio's latter years, when he is telling his story, the epithet of " gris de perle" [pearl grey]; a delicacy of tint harmonizing with the fine blonde hair of his youth, and not ade- quately expressed by "fine grey." The Italian phrases strewed here and there are frequently misjeined to the English text : thus, where George Sand writes " cris d' amazza I" the translation reads "cries of' d' amazzal' " which, being literally interpreted, is "cries of 'of kill!' " Such trifling blemishes might easily be removed from subsequent parts in the revision of the proofs.
It is difficult to select specimens from George Sand's writings, not only because there is so much that is beautiful, but because every part, espe- cially the most beautiful, loses greatly by being removed from the context. Every touch derives part of its force from its bearing to the whole, and a terrible injustice is inflicted by the mutilation in the process of extract- ing. Hence we abstain from extract; and the more readily as the book before us does not afford adequate specimens of what the author can do. Broken samples from a work not first-rate in her scale would ill introduce her to the mere English reader : with the original many of our readers must be familiar.
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