Before, however, the first of her books of the quasi-philosophical style appeared, our author made an essay as a playwright, and Cosima, a drama in five acts, was produced at the Théâtre Français. It was received with hisses and hooting.—George Sand writes of it, on May 1, 1840: "The whole audience condemned the play as being immoral, and I am not sure that the Government will not prohibit it.... It was played through, being much attacked by some, and equally defended by others, ... and I will not alter a single word for the subsequent representations." The scene was laid in Florence, and the period was the Middle Ages, both time and place being unsuited to the wholly French sentiment of the play.
Madame Sand had for some time been a regular contributor to the Revue des Deux Mondes, but the novel Horace, written for its pages, was rejected by the editor as being of subversive tendencies; it was, therefore, published in the Revue Indépendante, a very advanced journal founded in 1840 by Pierre Leroux and Louis Viardot, to which George Sand gave her coöperation. This work portrays in its study of the titular character a sort of moral mountebank; the analysis is very clever and interesting of the weak, selfish man who for a time imposes with his claims for distinction, but who appears in his true light at last. Next came the Compagnon du Tour de France, in which socialist doctrines are the animating spirit. Though the freedom of the author's fancy clothes the subject and the characters with great interest and portrays many charming situations, yet there is a strained and not seldom unwelcome contrast presented by the necessity of keeping the individuals in line with the political purpose of the novel. Speaking of her writing, about this time, George Sand says: "Happily, I do not need to seek ideas; they are clearly fixed in my brain. I have no longer to struggle with doubts; these vanished like clouds in the light of conviction. I no longer have to examine my sentiments; their voice sounds aloud from the depths of my heart, and puts to silence all hesitation, literary pride, and fear of ridicule. So much has philosophy done for me."
In 1842, the beginning of Consuelo appeared in the Revue Indépendante, and its opening was so auspicious that the scope originally planned was considerably enlarged. The author tells us that she felt she had before her a grand subject and powerful types of character, with time, place, and historic incidents of deep interest, in great profusion awaiting the explorer. The heroine of the work is a lovely portraiture: lofty in mind, noble in heart, and chaste in thought. Consuelo must ever remain one of George Sand's finest creations. The work abounds in interesting situations; the exuberant fancy and poetic spirit of the author find full play in a series of marvellous and fascinating adventures; and the characters are portrayed with subtle skill and vigor. Nor can the prolixity and gloomy meditations of Comte Albert check the reader's interest. The meeting of Consuelo and Haydn and the wonderful musical performances of these wayfarers present lovely and by no means impossible pictures. The influence of George Sand's friendship with Liszt, who stayed at Nohant during the summer of 1837, and with Chopin, with whom she was on equally close terms, is seen in this work. The Comtesse de Rudolstadt is perhaps less likely to arouse enthusiasm and sustained interest; Consuelo has become the Comtesse de Rudolstadt, and with the change not a little of the charm disappears in the mystifying allegory and humanitarian theories which obscure the artist's poetic fancy and brilliant description. This work likewise appeared in the Revue Indépendante, in 1843.
In 1845, George Sand wrote the Meunier d'Angibault, a work also written under the influence of Leroux's teachings. The socialist idea is presented in the person of an artisan, Lémor, who refuses to marry a rich widow because she is rich, and, consequently, such a union would do violence to his principles. Finally, a fire destroys the widow's château, and she rejoices at her deprivation, inasmuch as she is now no longer separated by the possession of her property from the man who adores her. While this and similar works created for their author much enmity, their characters presented nothing but virtuous, if unrealizable, ideas. Following this, in 1846, appeared La Mare au Diable, an exquisite idyl, a gem of rural poetry. We can well imagine with what delight George Sand penned this touching and beautiful poem. The construction is of the simplest form. A ploughman, a widower, is about to seek a wife, as a prudential step; he undertakes the charge of a young peasant girl who is going to fill a place as shepherdess a few miles from her home. The way is lost, and they camp for the night under great oaks. Here, Marie chats till overcome by sleep, but Germain indulges in dreams which result in cooling his interest in his proposed marriage venture. The rest is easily understood; Germain and Marie become husband and wife. The incidents are all natural and the dénouement quite expected. The reader cannot forget the charming story.
During the years since her final arrangement with Monsieur Dudevant, the home life of George Sand had been one of tranquillity and ease. We find her generally at Nohant, enjoying the society of her chosen friends; an entertaining hostess, retiring in disposition, and giving of her means with a liberal hand to those in need about her; caring with the tenderest solicitude for the present happiness and future welfare of her children; despising glory, and devoting herself to her literary work with assiduity. In May, 1847, a domestic event of unusual importance transpired. Madame Sand's daughter, Solange, was married to Monsieur Clésinger, respecting which she writes to the famous Italian patriot, Mazzini: "I have just married my daughter, and, as I believe, satisfactorily, to an artist of great talent and purpose. My only ambition for the dear creature was that she should love and be loved in return; my wish is gratified."
In this same year, Lucrezia Floriani appeared. The titular heroine is a cantatrice of fame, which, however, she despises, and early in life she retires from the world. Her noble character, which her experiences had failed to mar, attracts the devoted attachment of a prince. His protestations lead Lucrezia to think that each will find in the other the happiness desired. But Prince Karol soon entertains jealous sentiments concerning events of the earlier years of Lucrezia's life. The misery consequent on the prince's despotism year by year crushes Lucrezia's life. The chief interest in this work is, perhaps, due to the persistent determination to read therein an attack on Chopin, whose long-continued friendship with George Sand was broken at this time. The evidences of such an attack certainly appear very unsubstantial, nor does it seem that the eminent composer himself recognized it, at least until he had been influenced to do so by others. She says of it herself that it is "entirely an analytical and meditative work." It is a masterful presentment of the inception, development, and destructive culmination of jealousy.
In 1847, also, Le Péché de Monsieur Antoine appeared, in which the sentiments of Michel, of Bourges, find expression, and we cannot but sympathize with the victims of the social and political systems that George Sand depicts with so much energy and denunciatory style. We miss, however, once more the spontaneous poetry, the vivid imagination, that are natural to the writer, or, rather, it would be more correct to say that the beauty of such is obscured by the dissertations that are essential to the corrective aims in view. This vein of literary wealth was happily interrupted by Il Piccinino, an engrossing novel of Sicilian life. A family, owing to secret enmity, has been obliged to seek refuge in Rome. After a time, the father and the daughter return to Sicily, leaving the son and brother in Rome to pursue his art study. The latter returns later, having been unable to make his way. He later sees Princesse Agathe Palmarosa, whose kindly attentions to him have a mysterious appearance, and he becomes deeply enamored of her. He finds a terrible rival in Il Piccinino, a bandit, but the power of the princess suffices to control the bandit, and it is discovered that the young painter is the son of the princess. The style of the work, with its romantic situations and fascinating adventures, and the strongly accented characters make it remarkable.
François le Champi next appeared, in the feuilleton of the Journal des Débats. It is a simple pastoral of Berry, a centre sacred to George Sand by her lifelong associations. She was familiar with every detail of the landscape about her. Every nook and corner was filled with eloquent voices that her ear understood. In this book she adopts the dialect of the province. Madelon, a childless wife, is moved to pity for the poor foundling, François; she supplies almost the place of a mother to him, while he returns her affection as a son. Later, however, this relation of love changes, and they become husband and wife. There is little of intricacy in this rustic poem, but it exactly suits the genius of the author. As to her choice of this dialect, it is not without interest to read her own views thereon, which are expressed in her letter to Mazzini of July 28, 1847: "I entertain great respect and liking for the language of the peasants; in my judgment, it is the more correct."
At this time, Madame Sand had undertaken to write the Histoire de ma Vie, the source of many details given in this notice; and as a commentary on the spirit of its author, we may quote some of her remarks: "Our own lives are a part of our environments, and we can never exonerate ourselves without being obliged to accuse somebody; sometimes our best friend. But it is my desire to avoid accusing or wounding anybody. That would be hateful to me, and I should suffer more than my victims." An event was approaching which threw into the shade the Histoire and all work in hand: the Revolution of 1848.
This was the hour when George Sand's fervent nature was to carry her into the vortex of politics, and for months the power of her energy was directed on a series of Lettres au Peuple and Bulletins du Ministère de l'Intérieur. The spirit that animated her may be illustrated by her own words, written from Paris in March, 1848: "Situated as we now are, we must show not merely devotion and loyalty, but also, if required, fanaticism. We must rise above ourselves, forswear all weakness, and even brush aside our affections if they should run counter to the onward course of a power elected by the people." She is sincere in her convictions, fearless of the consequences of doing what she believes to be right, and always full of faith in the people. She both twits and tries to strengthen Lamartine and other leaders. But she is optimistic, for, before very long, she finds strange omens of the destruction of the Republic. Her letters during the stormy period of its existence are most interesting from a historical point of view, but it is unnecessary here to follow our author in her political career. Alternately hopeful and despairing in face of ententes and conspiracies, she continued her active interest and eloquent support to the Republic by her articles in the Bulletin de la République, the Cause du Peuple, and other journals. The excitements and disappointments of this period were the cause of many disillusionments, not, however, as to principle, but as to persons and methods. She bids adieu to politics, with a bruised heart. In a letter to Mazzini in September, 1850, she describes her feelings thus: "Hope has not revived in me, and I am not one to sing songs that do not spring from my soul.... I return to fiction.... I make popular types such as I no longer see, but such as they should and might be. In art, it is still feasible to substitute dreaming for reality; in politics, all poetry is a lie, which conscience rejects."