She and he; Lavinia; Memoir

by George Sand

The death of her grandmother, in December, 1821, opened a new phase in Aurore's life. The efforts which Madame Dupin the elder had made during life to withdraw the girl from the influence of her mother were perpetuated in her will, by which she appointed her nephew, Comte René de Villeneuve, the guardian of her granddaughter, to whom she had left her property. On the reading of the will, the relations between Aurore's paternal and maternal families were completely severed. Madame Dupin was not ignorant of the clause of the will which sought to deprive her of the guardianship of her daughter, and which was not valid in law, and she resisted its application. As the result of discussion, it was agreed that Deschartres, the trusted adviser of the late Madame Dupin, should be appointed as co-guardian with Aurore's mother. Deschartres was left in charge of Nohant, and Madame Dupin took her daughter with her to Paris. Here her life was by no means happy; the mother she idolized seems to have suffered in temper from the troubles and checks she had undergone, and her capricious outbursts of anger were only exasperated by her daughter's gracious and yielding way. In her mother, Aurore failed to find the guide that her nature required, and to a certain extent she was neglected by her. It is not surprising to find, therefore, that the young girl was ready to welcome any change that would relieve the irritation she endured.

The opportunity presented itself in a visit to the country home of some friends whose acquaintance Madame Dupin had recently made. In the lovely home of the Duplessis family, Aurore was cheered by the companionship of young people and the bright society found at the house. Madame Dupin left her daughter with her friends, promising that she would come for her "next week," but she was persuaded to permit the stay to continue for five months. Here Aurore met the man whom she deliberately chose for her husband. He was a friend of her hosts, Lieutenant Casimir Dudevant, twenty-seven years old, and the natural son of Colonel Dudevant, a Gascon landowner, who had been created a Baron of the Empire for his services under Napoleon. The marriage of the colonel having proved childless, he had acknowledged Casimir, and provided for his succession to his property.

On seeing Mademoiselle Dupin, the lieutenant at once took a liking to her, and this feeling was soon reciprocated by the young girl. The officer does not appear to have been a very romantic suitor, but at least he seems to have been sincere; and the fortunes of the parties being equal, a reasonable prospect of happiness presented itself in a marriage between them. The lieutenant ere long proposed marriage to Aurore, adding: "It is not customary, I know, to propose marriage to the intended affianced; but, mademoiselle, I love you. I am unable to resist telling you of my sentiments, and if you find my appearance not too displeasing—in a word, if you are willing to accept me as your husband, I will make my intentions known to Madame Dupin; if, however, you reject me, I should deem it useless to trouble your mother."

This frank but blunt proposal rather pleased Aurore; it was entirely unconventional. Madame Dupin added her persuasion, as she considered the offer a suitable one, and, the consent of Colonel Dudevant having been obtained, the marriage was solemnized in September, 1822. An incident involved in the preliminaries to the marriage is worthy of notice, as evidence of the generous feelings and tender regard of Aurore for her old and pedantic tutor, Deschartres. Being called upon to render the accounts of his management of his ward's estate, he could not explain a deficit of eighteen thousand francs, for the expenditure of which he could not produce receipts. He was dumfounded; Madame Dupin threatened to cause his arrest; but her daughter, moved to pity at the old man's distress, insisted on taking the blame on herself, explaining that the sum represented money paid to her by Deschartres, for which she had neglected to give him receipts. This generous course saved the old man from disgrace, and perhaps ruin, for he was proposing to sell his own pitiful estate to make good the deficit due to his mismanagement.

Soon after the marriage, Monsieur and Madame Dudevant took up their residence on the bride's estate at Nohant. The life there for some time was tranquil, if not entirely happy. The young wife seems to have abandoned the life of the intellect, and soon her whole dream was of maternity. Matrimony had already failed as the ideal life she may have contemplated. The companionship of her husband was not that living force she had pictured. Probably she had trusted too much to reason and common-sense, and certainly she had married in ignorance of her husband's character and tastes, and, it may be, in ignorance of her own. At any rate, she was not yet unhappy.

In July, 1823, Maurice was born, her beloved son, he who was to be the comfort and joy of her life in all its troubles, and in whom the mother was to find a compensation for the sorrows of the wife. From the time his son was born, Monsieur Dudevant seems to have neglected his wife; he was of a rather interfering disposition, and, moreover, given to the pleasures of hunting, in pursuit of which he frequently left his wife as early as two or three o'clock in the morning. The young wife, whose health was not robust, and whose disposition led her to desire the society of her husband, at first mildly reproached him for his absence, but the effect was only momentary; happily, the joys of motherhood consoled her, at least for a time, and matters progressed placidly.

The seclusion of the life at Nohant was first interrupted in 1824, when a visit was made to Paris and to the home of the Duplessises. Later, in 1825, a journey was taken to some of the watering-places in the Pyrenees, where it was hoped Madame Dudevant's health would be reëstablished, and by means of which the young wife also hoped to bring about a change in her husband's habits. To this trip, which was to be made more entertaining by the company of two friends of her convent life, Madame Dudevant looked with eager interest; for, in a letter to Madame Dupin, written in June, 1825, she says: "I shall be most happy at once more seeing the Pyrenees, which I scarcely remember, but which everybody describes as offering incomparably lovely scenery."

The stay of a few months among the mountains proved of great physical benefit to Madame Dudevant. In her letters to her mother, she describes with almost childish glee the excursions she made, the daring feats she undertook, and the beauty of the scenery. But the hope of changed manners on the part of her husband was not realized; his treatment on their return continued as before; when not engaged in his favorite pastime of hunting, he indulged in the pleasures of the table.

The duties of a mother and a housewife now seemed to absorb Madame Dudevant's thoughts; yet, while outwardly calm and dignified, the experience she was gaining of conjugal life, which had destroyed all her illusions, was establishing her views on the relations of husband and wife and formulating her ideal of satisfied love. It cannot be doubted that her earlier works, especially Indiana, are the pathetic and passionate voice of her soul, long silenced by her obligations as wife and mother; for in a letter to Madame Dupin, written in May, 1831, Madame Dudevant writes: "I cannot bear even the shadow of coercion; that is my principal defect. All that is imposed on me as a duty grows detestable to me; what I can do without any interference, I do whole-heartedly."

For a long time, the bitterness of her disappointment found no confidant; and Monsieur Dudevant's interfering methods, and his indifference to his wife's society, must have hourly wounded her sensitive nature. In the letter last quoted, we read: "I hold liberty of thought and freedom of action as the chief blessings in this world. If to these are joined the cares of a family, then how immeasurably sweeter life is; but where is one to find such a felicitous combination?" But during the years in which her sorrows were accumulating, her letters to those outside bear no sign of bitterness or anger. She endured her grief and disappointment silently, so far as her friends were concerned. The breach between the husband and the wife was, however, opening wider day by day. In 1826, a letter to Madame Dupin tells of the life at Nohant during the Carnival, and of the rustic wedding of two of her domestics, in a cheerful and merry strain. Matters proceeded in this superficial tranquillity, with no remarkable change, until the fall of 1828, when the birth of her daughter, Solange, afforded a new interest and added duties.