n'y avait de fort en moi que la
passion... rien dans man cerveau fit obstacle." George Sand often lays
her finger on sore places, fails, however, not only to prescribe the
right remedy, but even to recognise the true cause of the disease. She
makes now and then acute observations, but has not sufficient strength
to grapple successfully with the great social, philosophical, and
religious problems which she so boldly takes up. In fact, reasoning
unreasonableness was a very frequent condition of George Sand's mind.
That the unreasonableness of her reasoning remains unseen by many,
did so at any rate in her time, is due to the marvellous beauty and
eloquence of her language. The best that can be said of her subversive
theories was said by a French critic--namely, that they were in reality
only "le temoignage d'aspirations genereuses et de nobles illusions."
But even this is saying too much, for her aspirations and illusions are
far from being always generous and noble. If we wish to see George Sand
at her best we must seek her out in her quiet moods, when she contents
herself with being an artist, and unfolds before us the beauties of
nature and the secrets of the human heart. Indeed, unless we do this,
we cannot form a true idea of her character. Not all the roots of her
talent were imbedded in corruption. She who wrote Lelia wrote also
Andre, she who wrote Lucrezia Floriani wrote also La petite Fadette.
And in remembering her faults and shortcomings justice demands that we
should not forget her family history, with its dissensions and
examples of libertinism, and her education without system, continuity,
completeness, and proper guidance.

The most precious judgment pronounced on George Sand is by one who was
at once a true woman and a great poet. Mrs. Elizabeth Barrett Browning
saw in her the "large-brained woman and large-hearted man... whose soul,
amid the lions of her tumultuous senses, moans defiance and answers roar
for roar, as spirits can"; but who lacked "the angel's grace of a pure
genius sanctified from blame." This is from the sonnet to George Sand,
entitled "A Desire." In another sonnet, likewise addressed to George
Sand and entitled "A Recognition," she tells her how vain it was to deny
with a manly scorn the woman's nature... while before

The world thou burnest in a poet-fire,
We see thy woman-heart beat evermore
Through the large flame. Beat purer, heart, and higher,
Till God unsex thee on