Frederic Chopin as a Man and Musician, vol 2 | Page 7

not bright, and their fire may have
been extinguished by many tears, or may have passed into her works,
which have spread their flaming brands over the whole world,
illumined many a comfortless prison, but perhaps also fatally set on fire
many a temple of innocence. The authoress of "Lelia" has quiet, soft
eyes, which remind one neither of Sodom nor of Gomorrah. She has
neither an emancipated aquiline nose nor a witty little snub nose. It is
just an ordinary straight nose. A good- natured smile plays usually
around her mouth, but it is not very attractive; the somewhat hanging
under-lip betrays fatigued sensuality. The chin is full and plump, but
nevertheless beautifully proportioned. Also her shoulders are beautiful,
nay, magnificent. Likewise her arms and hands, which, like her feet,
are small. Let other contemporaries describe the charms of her bosom, I
confess my incompetence. The rest of her bodily frame seems to be
somewhat too stout, at least too short. Only her head bears the impress
of ideality; it reminds one of the noblest remains of Greek art, and in
this respect one of our friends could compare the beautiful woman to
the marble statue of the Venus of Milo, which stands in one of the
lower rooms of the Louvre. Yes, she is as beautiful as the Venus of
Milo; she even surpasses the latter in many respects: she is, for instance,
very much younger. The physiognomists who maintain that the voice
of man reveals his character most unmistakably would be much at a
loss if they were called upon to detect George Sand's extraordinary
depth of feeling [Innigkeit] in her voice. The latter is dull and faded,
without sonority, but soft and agreeable. The naturalness of her
speaking lends it some charm. Of vocal talent she exhibits not a trace!
George Sand sings at best with the bravura of a beautiful grisette who
has not yet breakfasted or happens not to be in good voice. The organ
of George Sand has as little brilliancy as what she says. She has
nothing whatever of the sparkling esprit of her countrywomen, but also
nothing of their talkativeness. The cause of this taciturnity, however, is
neither modesty nor sympathetic absorption in the discourse of another.
She is taciturn rather from haughtiness, because she does not think you
worth squandering her cleverness [Geist] upon, or even from
selfishness, because she endeavours to absorb the best of your
discourse in order to work it up afterwards in her works. That out of
avarice George Sand knows how never to give anything and always to

take something in conversation, is a trait to which Alfred de Musset
drew my attention. "This gives her a great advantage over us," said
Musset, who, as he had for many years occupied the post of cavaliere
servente to the lady, had had the best opportunity to learn to know her
thoroughly. George Sand never says anything witty; she is indeed one
of the most unwitty Frenchwomen I know.
While admiring the clever drawing and the life-like appearance of the
portrait, we must, however, not overlook the exaggerations and
inaccuracies. The reader cannot have failed to detect the limner tripping
with regard to Musset, who occupied not many years but less than a
year the post of cavaliere servente. But who would expect religious
adherence to fact from Heine, who at all times distinguishes himself
rather by wit than conscientiousness? What he says of George Sand's
taciturnity in company and want of wit, however, must be true; for she
herself tells us of these negative qualities in the Histoire de ma Vie.
The musical accomplishments of Chopin's beloved one have, of course,
a peculiar interest for us. Liszt, who knew her so well, informed me
that she was not musical, but possessed taste and judgment. By "not
musical" he meant no doubt that she was not in the habit of exhibiting
her practical musical acquirements, or did not possess these latter to
any appreciable extent. She herself seems to me to make too much of
her musical talents, studies, and knowledge. Indeed, her writings show
that, whatever her talents may have been, her taste was vague and her
knowledge very limited.
When we consider the diversity of character, it is not a matter for
wonder that Chopin was at first rather repelled than attracted by the
personality of George Sand. Nor is it, on the other hand, a matter for
wonder that her beauty and power of pleasing proved too strong for his
antipathy. How great this power of pleasing was when she wished to
exercise it, the reader may judge from the incident I shall now relate.
Musset's mother, having been informed of her son's projected tour to
Italy, begged him to give it up. The poet