does not look back regretfully to the days when life was more simple,
when it was possible to walk towards a goal, mysterious and unknown
though it might be, by straight paths and royal routes?

George Sand wrote for nearly half a century. For fifty times three
hundred and sixty-five days, she never let a day pass by without
covering more pages than other writers in a month. Her first books
shocked people, her early opinions were greeted with storms. From that
time forth she rushed head-long into everything new, she welcomed
every chimera and passed it on to us with more force and passion in it.
Vibrating with every breath, electrified by every storm, she looked up
at every cloud behind which she fancied she saw a star shining. The work
of another novelist has been called a repertory of human documents. But
what a repertory of ideas her work was! She has said what she had to say
on nearly every subject; on love, the family, social institutions and on
the various forms of government. And with all this she was a woman.
Her case is almost unique in the history of letters. It is intensely
interesting to study the influence of this woman of genius on the
evolution of modern thought.

I shall endeavour to approach my subject conscientiously and with all
due respect. I shall study biography where it is indispensable for the
complete understanding of works. I shall give a sketch of the original
individuals I meet on my path, portraying these only at their point
of contact with the life of our authoress, and it seems to me that
a gallery in which we see Sandeau, Sainte-Beuve, Musset, Michel (of
Bourges), Liszt, Chopin, Lamennais, Pierre Leroux, Dumas _fils_,
Flaubert and many, many others is an incomparable portrait gallery. I
shall not attack persons, but I shall discuss ideas and, when necessary,
dispute them energetically. We shall, I hope, during our voyage, see