he time of Musset,
Sainte-Beuve, and now it was Girerd. "I am tired out with my own
devotion, and I have fought against my pride with all the strength of my
love. I have had nothing but ingratitude and hardness as my recompense.
I have felt my love dying away and my soul being crushed, but I am cured
at last. . . ." If only she had had all this suffering for the sake of a
great man, but this time it was only in imaginary great man.

The influence, though, that he had had over her thought was real, and in
a certain way beneficial.

At the beginning she was far from sharing Michel's ideas, and for some
of them she felt an aversion which amounted to horror. The dogma of
absolute equality seemed an absurdity to her. The Republic, or rather
the various republics then in gestation, appeared to her a sort of
Utopia, and as she saw each of her friends making "his own little
Republic" for himself, she had not much faith in the virtue of that form
of government for uniting all French people. One point shocked her above
all others in Michel's theories. This politician did not like artists.
Just as the Revolution did not find chemists necessary, he considered
that the Republic did not need writers, painters and musicians. These
were all useless individuals, and the Republic would give them a little
surprise by putting a labourer's spade or a shoemaker's awl into their
hands. George Sand considered this idea not only barbarous, but silly.

Time works wonders, for we have an indisputable proof that certain of
his opinions soon became hers. This proof is the Republican catechism
contained in her letters to her son Maurice, who was then twelve years
of age. He was at the Lycee Henri IV, in the same class as the princes
of Orleans. It is interesting to read what his mother says to him
concerning the father of his young school friends. In a letter, written
in December, 1835, she says: "It is certainly true that Louis-Philippe
is the enemy of humanity. . . ." Nothing less than that! A little later,
the enemy of humanity invites the young friends of his son Montpensier
to his _chateau_ for the carnival holiday. Maurice is allowed to
accept the invitation, as he wishes to, but he is to avoid showing
that gratitude which destroys independence. "The entertainments that
Montpensier offers you are favours," writes this mother of the Gracchi
quite gravely. If he is asked about his opinions, the child is to reply
that he is rather too young to