The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1898-04-17
LOVE LETTER FROM GEORGE SAND.
Curious Document Recalled by the
Recent Death of Its Recipient.


dove episodes in the life of that never to-be-
forgotten woman, Nine Aurore Dudevant,
who, under the nom de plume Of George
sand, left an imprint upon the world of
literature that will never be erased as long
as the English tongue is spoken and of
Wnom Justin Mccarthy wrote twenty-eght
years ago, that there is not now. and has
not been for twenty years. / venture to
think, a single revolutionary, idea, as slow
and steady-going people would call it. afloat
anywhere in Europe or America, on the
subject of woman's relations to man, So
diately to the influence of George Sand, and
to the influence of George Sands unhappy
marriage upon George Sand herself In
the many books that have been written re-
garding this most remarkable woman there
is no mention of the man who died the
other day and yet her biographers and the
biographers of Frederick Chopin, the mas
ter musical composer and pianist, whose
genius first warmed under Polish
sun. have not been at all backward or del
lcate III treating of the amours that made
up such large portion not only of her
private but her public life. Those who are
familiar with these phases of her career,
portrayed in the literature appertaining
thereto, have read much of Alfred de Mus
Revue DIES Duck Mondes. 1t was not until
a few years ago when all those who have
been referred to-with the exception of
Pagelo-Were dead, that there came to light
probably the fiercest love letter that George
Sand ever " .ote and addressed to this ply
stefan of Belluno. whose death was an
nounced the other day by a cablegram from
Rome. At the time of it's revelation Pagello
appeared to be flattered with the notoriety
thus attached to him, and although then
ninety years of age, took great delight in
showing and gloating over a few porcelain
cups that had been touched by the lips of
the gifted authOreSS.
Perhaps it is time that you read the letter.
1t is not commended to the women of to-
day as a pattern. Bear in mind that it's
writer had q husband, but to whom she
was unhappily mated. Bear in mind that
she made no secret of her various love af-
fairs. Bear in mind, also. that some of
n n1Ir I1IIhl IL hrar
to-day deal with these episodes as they
do with like events in the careers of many
ture has been frail in the beginning. and
will be to the end But the letter will
hereafter remain part of English litera-
ture for the. reason that it is poem in
"since we were born under different skies.
we have neither the same thoughts nor the
the same hearts? The warm and foggy
climate of my native land has left in me
sweet and melancholy Impressions; what
passions do you owe to the generous sun.
which has brOnZed your brow? l know how
to love and to suffer. and you, how do you
love? l do not know if you really love me.
| shall never know. You are only able to
speak a few words in my tonguesand do
not know your mother tongue sufficiently
to enable me to frame questions so subtle.
PerhapS even l knew your language
thoroughly it would be impossible for me
to make myself understood. The places in
which we have lived, the persons who have
we cannot explain, each to the other, our
ideas, our sentiments, our needs. My weak
nature and your fiery temperament must
necessarily give birth to thoughts that are
widely different OF surety you either
ignore or despise the thousand pangs that
assail me; of surety you laugh at that
which brings tears to my eyes Perhaps
you do not know what tears are. Will
you be for me a helpmate or a master?
Will you console me for all the ills which
/ suffered before l met you? VIII you
understand why I am sad? Do you know
what compassion, patience, friendship
mean? Perhaps you have been nurtured
in the conviction that women have no
soul? Do you know that they have one?
Are you neither Christian nor Mussul-
man, neither civilized nor barbarian? Are
you a man? What is there within this
manly breast, this leonine eye, this superb
and pure, sentiment fraternal and
pious? When you sleep do you dream that
You are winging your way toward heaven?
When men do you wrong, do you put your
trust in God?
do you know what / am, and are you
trembling yourself because you do not know
which fills you with longing and possesses
your thoughts? Do you know what the
souls desire is, that desire which time
cannot satiate and which no human caresses
can weary or lull to sleep? Oh, when find
your cOuntenance calm, shall learn Wheth-
er you are thinking or simply reposing?
When your eyes grow languishing will it be
through tenderness or WEAKNESS? Perhaps
you think that you do not know that / do
not Know you. l KNOW neither your past
life nor your character nor how you are es
teemed by those men who do know you
Perhaps you are the first, perhaps the last
among them. l love you without knowing
if l will be able to esteem you. l love you
because you please me; perhaps L will soon
be forced to hate you If you were man
of my own country / would question you
and you would understand me; but 1 would
perhaps be still more unhappy for you
G %oad deceive v me H9q nd at any rate will not
ises and false vows. You will love me as
you know how to love and you can love
What / have looked for in VaiITSs in other
men 1 shall perchance not find in you, but
can always believe that it is in you. The
looks and caresses of love, which have al
plain at my leisure without adding to them
any deceitful words. / will be able to in
terpret your reveries and to turn your ST.
lence into eloquent speech. I will attribute
to your actions suchsemotionS as I may de-
sire. When you look at me tenderly I will
believe that your soul is holding commune
will believe that your intellect is speeding
back to the eternal center from which it
Do not learn my tongue; / have no desire
to find in your language the words which
would tell you of my doubts and fears 1
desire to remain in Ignorance of what you
are doing with your life and of what part
you are playing in the world of men.
would be willing even not to know your
name-nav hide from me your very soul so
that | may always be able to believe it is
beautiful"
in his brothers biography, speaking of AL
freds elopement to Italy with George Sand,
claims that she played him false. which
the authoress always denied. If she did it
was unquestionably in relation TO DR.. Pa
CELLO. 1t is also sad to reflect that the re-
cipient of the burning words above, when
he was a., mona genaria1, although yet in
robust health, recalled her, when questioned
by newspaper interviewer, only to chuckle
over her affection. TO narrate that she was
fond of Turkish tobacco from which she
made her own cigarettes to mention that
fish was her favorite food, to beam with
satisfaction in referring to the excellence
of the sauces which she made and to la
ment that she drank more tea than was
good for her in order to stimulate her
mental energies. The doctors son. az the
time OF the interview referred to- with Ital-
ian brutality, said: .rOh. this affair with
George Sand was mere episode in nv
fathers life; nothing more. She wearied
with Alfred de Mnsset's capTices, fell ia
love with my father, who was a fine. hand
some broad-Shouldered young fellow NV
father loved the handsome French woman |
for her genius, her kindness-indeed to tell |