sk of symmetrical
arrangement. M. Maxime Du Camp reports that she said to him: "When I
begin a novel I have no plan; it arranges itself whilst I write, and
becomes what it may." This fault shocks less in England, where genius is
apt to rebel against the restrictions of form, and such irregularity has
been consecrated, so to speak, by the masterpieces of the greatest among
our imaginative writers. And even the more precise criticism of her
countrymen has owned that this carelessness works by no means entirely
to her disadvantage. In fictions more faultless as literary compositions
the reader, whilst struck with admiration for the art with which the
whole is put together, is apt to lose something of the illusion--the
impression of nature and conviction. The faults of no writer can be more
truly defined as the _defauts de ses qualites_ than those of George
Sand. Shorn of her spontaneity, she would indeed be shorn of her
strength. We are carried along by the pleasant, easy stream of her
musical eloquence, as by an orator who knows so well how to draw our
attention that we forget to find him too long. Her stories may be read
rapidly, but to be enjoyed should be read through. Dipped into and their
parts taken without reference to the whole, they can afford
comparatively but little pleasure.

In translation no novelist loses more than George Sand,--who has so much
to lose! The qualities sacrificed, though almost intangible, are
essential to the force of her charm. The cement is taken away and the
fabric coheres imperfectly; and whilst the beauties of her manner are
blurred, its blemishes appear increased; the lengthiness, over-emphasis
of expression, questionable taste of certain passages, become more
marked. Although nevertheless many of her tales remain pleasant reading,
they suffer as much as translated poetry, and only a very inadequate
impression of her art as a novelist can be arrived at from any rendering
of it in a foreign tongue.

Her dialogue has neither brilliancy nor variety. Her characters
characterize themselves by the sentiments they express; their manner of
expression is somewhat uniform--it is the manner of George Sand; and
although pleasant humor and good-natured fun abound in her pages, these
owe none of their attractions to witty sayings, being curiously bare of
a _bon mot_ or an epigram.

But we find there the rarer merits of a poetic imagination, a vast
comprehension of nature, admirable insight into h