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Un invierno en Mallorca
Un invierno en Mallorca es un cuaderno de viaje autobiográfico escrito por George Sand, amante por entonces de Fryderyk Chopin. En esta obra, Sand relata las vivencias de su viaje y de su estancia con Chopin en la isla de Mallorca a causa de la enfermedad del pianista.
205 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1842
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1612 people want to read
About the author
George Sand
2,862 books915 followersAmantine Lucile Aurore Dupin de Francueil, best known by her pen name George Sand, was a French novelist, memoirist and journalist. One of the most popular writers in Europe in her lifetime, being more renowned than either Victor Hugo or Honoré de Balzac in England in the 1830s and 1840s, Sand is recognised as one of the most notable writers of the European Romantic era. She wrote more than 50 volumes of various works to her credit, including tales, plays and political texts, alongside her 70 novels.
Like her great-grandmother, Louise Dupin, whom she admired, George Sand advocated for women's rights and passion, criticized the institution of marriage, and fought against the prejudices of a conservative society. She was considered scandalous because of her turbulent love life, her adoption of masculine clothing, and her masculine pseudonym.
Like her great-grandmother, Louise Dupin, whom she admired, George Sand advocated for women's rights and passion, criticized the institution of marriage, and fought against the prejudices of a conservative society. She was considered scandalous because of her turbulent love life, her adoption of masculine clothing, and her masculine pseudonym.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 117 reviews
June 26, 2021
Ein Winter auf Mallorca" ist ein Reisetagebuch aus dem Jahr 1838. Obwohl Chopin eine zentrale Rolle in der Geschichte einnimmt, kann man sein musikalisches Dasein nicht nacherleben. Chopin bleibt während der gesamten Geschichte anonym, seine Person und sein Leben werden kaum thematisiert. Die Liebschaft zu seiner Geliebten George Sand steht nicht im Mittelpunkt und wird nur beiläufig erwähnt. Das Augenmerk liegt auf dem Leben auf Mallorca im Jahr 1838, auf die vorherrschende Kultur, seine Einwohner und seine Landwirtschaftlichen Begebenheiten. Die große Spannung sucht man in diesem Buch vergebens, jedoch ist es amüsant geschrieben und zugleich sehr lehrreich und informativ.
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December 20, 2023I suspect that this is a book that I would have absolutely loved if I had read it between about the ages of fifteen and twenty, around the same time that I first read Heine and Washington Irving's Tales of the Alhambra. Now with grey hairs everywhere, I simply find it enjoyable.
In the last century, long ago and far away, I was staying with my maternal aunt. She got herself a handsome edition of this book - in hardback and illustrated, while I got book envy.
Once upon a time, I was not good, but at least diligent, and read books in foreign languages with a dictionary and notebook and a pen to hand. Eventually, I felt this was all a bit cumbersome. It broke the flow of reading and more seriously it meant I could only read in certain places- where I could have a dictionary, a notebook, and a pen to hand. With my long distant five years of French in school I struggled desperately with Balzac, more or less got by with Dumas, this was the easiest French text for me to understand that I have so far attempted, maybe that means I am slowly getting the feel of it, or possibly Sand's writing here was particularly straight forward and direct. I am, already tempted to read this again - maybe next year.
If you are a Chopin fan, than this book will be a disappointment, he is only presently indirectly,in the duty that had to be paid to bring his piano in Spain, and in the Doctors' visits to the couple's holiday home.
Of this account of early tourism, the briefest description might be that Sand loved the Island, but detested its people. She doesn't have a sense that the two things, the landscape and its people might be interrelated.
Her account is in three books, the first deals with the island as a whole and how she arrived there, the second book concentrates on the Bonaparte family and its origins and her days in Palma looking for accommodation for herself, Chopin, and her children, the third book covers their time staying in the former monastery in the interior of the island - often overshadowed by mountains, and washed by winter rains. It's quite fun imagining George Sand, with a cigar in her mouth, puffing away like a steam engine working her way through all of this.
Washington Irving immersed himself in the folklore of the Alhambra - you can know a place through the stories people tell about it, whereas Sand feels the twisted trees and intuits the geography, the landscape has a character. In this she reminded me of Heine, and of German Romanticism more generally - I am thinking of the observation made by a French man that Casper David Friedrich discovered the melancholy of the landscape - not a conclusion that I agree with I am compelled to say, but this is the mentalite, I think.
Sand's story is foreshadowed by the adventure of Monsieur Laurens, an earlier tourist who ended up imprisoned because he was discovered drawing a picture of fortifications on the island, this doesn't seem a surprising fate considering that Spain had been occupied by the French just twenty years earlier and it did have a civil war going on. There is a familiar sense of the grumpy metropolitan finding the genuine and authentic, a little too genuine - there is no butter, the beef is lean, the citrus fruits are as big as a head - she never specifies whose head - pork products are ubiquitous, there is no tourism infrastructure, the roads are terrible.
Still this is an island in the process of change, the pigs and their vicinity to Barcelona have attracted the attention of a steamship owner. And so she is able to write that it is thanks to pigs that she visited Majorca with her children and Frederick Chopin.
In the last century, long ago and far away, I was staying with my maternal aunt. She got herself a handsome edition of this book - in hardback and illustrated, while I got book envy.
Once upon a time, I was not good, but at least diligent, and read books in foreign languages with a dictionary and notebook and a pen to hand. Eventually, I felt this was all a bit cumbersome. It broke the flow of reading and more seriously it meant I could only read in certain places- where I could have a dictionary, a notebook, and a pen to hand. With my long distant five years of French in school I struggled desperately with Balzac, more or less got by with Dumas, this was the easiest French text for me to understand that I have so far attempted, maybe that means I am slowly getting the feel of it, or possibly Sand's writing here was particularly straight forward and direct. I am, already tempted to read this again - maybe next year.
If you are a Chopin fan, than this book will be a disappointment, he is only presently indirectly,in the duty that had to be paid to bring his piano in Spain, and in the Doctors' visits to the couple's holiday home.
Of this account of early tourism, the briefest description might be that Sand loved the Island, but detested its people. She doesn't have a sense that the two things, the landscape and its people might be interrelated.
Her account is in three books, the first deals with the island as a whole and how she arrived there, the second book concentrates on the Bonaparte family and its origins and her days in Palma looking for accommodation for herself, Chopin, and her children, the third book covers their time staying in the former monastery in the interior of the island - often overshadowed by mountains, and washed by winter rains. It's quite fun imagining George Sand, with a cigar in her mouth, puffing away like a steam engine working her way through all of this.
Washington Irving immersed himself in the folklore of the Alhambra - you can know a place through the stories people tell about it, whereas Sand feels the twisted trees and intuits the geography, the landscape has a character. In this she reminded me of Heine, and of German Romanticism more generally - I am thinking of the observation made by a French man that Casper David Friedrich discovered the melancholy of the landscape - not a conclusion that I agree with I am compelled to say, but this is the mentalite, I think.
Sand's story is foreshadowed by the adventure of Monsieur Laurens, an earlier tourist who ended up imprisoned because he was discovered drawing a picture of fortifications on the island, this doesn't seem a surprising fate considering that Spain had been occupied by the French just twenty years earlier and it did have a civil war going on. There is a familiar sense of the grumpy metropolitan finding the genuine and authentic, a little too genuine - there is no butter, the beef is lean, the citrus fruits are as big as a head - she never specifies whose head - pork products are ubiquitous, there is no tourism infrastructure, the roads are terrible.
Still this is an island in the process of change, the pigs and their vicinity to Barcelona have attracted the attention of a steamship owner. And so she is able to write that it is thanks to pigs that she visited Majorca with her children and Frederick Chopin.
March 12, 2014
I just came back from a wonderful vacation in Mallorca and bought a copy on the island of George Sand's account. I thought it was going to be a book about her relationship with Chopin and the island but the only references to the composer is that he is an invalid and he is never named. Sand's descriptions of the island's beauty are spot on, even two hundred years later, I could imagine the places and the landscapes that she describes having just seen a lot of it myself. I have never read George Sand before so I don't know what her novels are like.
In this book I found her to be a snobby French woman who is condescending and downright insulting to Mallorquins, even going so far as to call them "monkeys." Her wit and biting humor made me laugh despite myself, but I always returned to feeling bad at the way she treated the islanders. I think when people travel they need to be open to others and not expect or be disappointed that people have different customs and culture. I have believed that Sand was an independent woman of her era, yet she is just as stubbornly prejudiced as other European intellectuals of her time.
She did open my eyes to the nature of monasteries and monks. When I was on the island I went to three former monasteries (the one in Valldemossa is one of my favorite places on earth)and I remember thinking how terribly sad it was when the monasteries were dissolved in the early 19th century. I thought of monks as truly pious people who had the will to live a prayerful life. I still admire this quality. But there is a brilliant passage in the book where Sand creates a conversation between the ghost of a medieval monk and a young artist. They have a philosophical conversation about the fallacies of the monks and their participation in the Inquisition. The ghost spoke of the monasteries as a sort of prison and how the artist is naive to praise them. Although this does not directly have to do with Mallorca, there is a line where George Sand accuses people of loving the architecture of things like the pyramids or churches without considering the that these achievements were built on the backs of slaves or participated in persecutions and executions.
The strange thing about Sand's condemnations of the people of Mallorca is that she acknowledges that Spain is at war and Mallorca is inundated with Spanish refugees. Sand recognizes this but then continues to pick on them for not having the kind of hospitality or accommodations that she is used to in France.
I hated Alexander Theroux's eviscerating attack on Estonians in "A Ramble Through the Periphery" published in the 21st century, but Sand's portrayal of another culture is just as demeaning to the Mallorquins. I feel hesitant to read any other travelogues, (although Mark Twain's "A Tramp Abroad" is lovely). The only reason I am giving this book three stars is for the quality of the writing, the descriptions of the island and the thought provoking commentary on religion and what we appreciate at the expense of the realty of history.
In this book I found her to be a snobby French woman who is condescending and downright insulting to Mallorquins, even going so far as to call them "monkeys." Her wit and biting humor made me laugh despite myself, but I always returned to feeling bad at the way she treated the islanders. I think when people travel they need to be open to others and not expect or be disappointed that people have different customs and culture. I have believed that Sand was an independent woman of her era, yet she is just as stubbornly prejudiced as other European intellectuals of her time.
She did open my eyes to the nature of monasteries and monks. When I was on the island I went to three former monasteries (the one in Valldemossa is one of my favorite places on earth)and I remember thinking how terribly sad it was when the monasteries were dissolved in the early 19th century. I thought of monks as truly pious people who had the will to live a prayerful life. I still admire this quality. But there is a brilliant passage in the book where Sand creates a conversation between the ghost of a medieval monk and a young artist. They have a philosophical conversation about the fallacies of the monks and their participation in the Inquisition. The ghost spoke of the monasteries as a sort of prison and how the artist is naive to praise them. Although this does not directly have to do with Mallorca, there is a line where George Sand accuses people of loving the architecture of things like the pyramids or churches without considering the that these achievements were built on the backs of slaves or participated in persecutions and executions.
The strange thing about Sand's condemnations of the people of Mallorca is that she acknowledges that Spain is at war and Mallorca is inundated with Spanish refugees. Sand recognizes this but then continues to pick on them for not having the kind of hospitality or accommodations that she is used to in France.
I hated Alexander Theroux's eviscerating attack on Estonians in "A Ramble Through the Periphery" published in the 21st century, but Sand's portrayal of another culture is just as demeaning to the Mallorquins. I feel hesitant to read any other travelogues, (although Mark Twain's "A Tramp Abroad" is lovely). The only reason I am giving this book three stars is for the quality of the writing, the descriptions of the island and the thought provoking commentary on religion and what we appreciate at the expense of the realty of history.
February 20, 2020
3,5/5 🌟
Неоднозначна книжка. З одного боку, цікаво, бо це трошки з життя Жорж Санд, розказане нею. З іншого боку, очікування через анотацію геть не виправдалися. Жорж Санд і Шопен. Скажемо так, я очікувала, можливо, чогось більш романтичного, більше про їхнє життя, про відпустку на Майорці. А отримала місцями суху, начинену фактами і уривками інших подорожувальників,місцями сповнену хвалебних відгуків про природу Майорки, місцями описів жахливого неробства, примітивності та недружелюбності майоркінців книгу. В якій навіть жодного разу не було згадано імені Шопена. Вона називала його «наш хворий» або «хтось із нас»...
Але деякі історії були іронічні, деякі смішні та кумедні, інші - гарні та поетичні, тому загалом читати було цікаво.
Але коли вже занадто мені було нарікань на острів та їх жителів, я не розуміла, чому вони просто не заберуться звідти. Потім виявилося, що не було кораблів.
Взагалі цікаво було читати, якою відірваною від світу була Майорка в ті часи (1838), як бідно і одноманітно жили майоркінці, як вони не сприймали чужоземців та намагалися на кожному кроці дурити їх. Як вони жили без притаманної тогочасній Франції зручностей і Жорж Санд та її сім‘я називали майоркінців... «мавпами»! Це мене трохи шокувало. Але вони були нечупарами, в їхніх старезних будиночках не було навіть нормальних меблів і жили вони примітивним селянським життям. Тому сім‘ї треба було витратити неабиякі кошти, щоб доставити меблі та фортепіано з Франції.
Зима на Майорці виявилася суворою, холодною (в них же не було опалення і навіть камінів) та дуже дощовитою. Тому і настрій книги здебільшого меланхолійний чи розпачливий. Але час від часу промені світла і тепла пробивалися.
Читати раджу, якщо цікавитеся Майоркою, там про неї дуже багато історичних довідок, але не раджу, якщо хочете дізнатися більше про Жорж Санд чи її відносини з Шопеном.
Неоднозначна книжка. З одного боку, цікаво, бо це трошки з життя Жорж Санд, розказане нею. З іншого боку, очікування через анотацію геть не виправдалися. Жорж Санд і Шопен. Скажемо так, я очікувала, можливо, чогось більш романтичного, більше про їхнє життя, про відпустку на Майорці. А отримала місцями суху, начинену фактами і уривками інших подорожувальників,місцями сповнену хвалебних відгуків про природу Майорки, місцями описів жахливого неробства, примітивності та недружелюбності майоркінців книгу. В якій навіть жодного разу не було згадано імені Шопена. Вона називала його «наш хворий» або «хтось із нас»...
Але деякі історії були іронічні, деякі смішні та кумедні, інші - гарні та поетичні, тому загалом читати було цікаво.
Але коли вже занадто мені було нарікань на острів та їх жителів, я не розуміла, чому вони просто не заберуться звідти. Потім виявилося, що не було кораблів.
Взагалі цікаво було читати, якою відірваною від світу була Майорка в ті часи (1838), як бідно і одноманітно жили майоркінці, як вони не сприймали чужоземців та намагалися на кожному кроці дурити їх. Як вони жили без притаманної тогочасній Франції зручностей і Жорж Санд та її сім‘я називали майоркінців... «мавпами»! Це мене трохи шокувало. Але вони були нечупарами, в їхніх старезних будиночках не було навіть нормальних меблів і жили вони примітивним селянським життям. Тому сім‘ї треба було витратити неабиякі кошти, щоб доставити меблі та фортепіано з Франції.
Зима на Майорці виявилася суворою, холодною (в них же не було опалення і навіть камінів) та дуже дощовитою. Тому і настрій книги здебільшого меланхолійний чи розпачливий. Але час від часу промені світла і тепла пробивалися.
Читати раджу, якщо цікавитеся Майоркою, там про неї дуже багато історичних довідок, але не раджу, якщо хочете дізнатися більше про Жорж Санд чи її відносини з Шопеном.
March 12, 2021
Whim. I was looking at an article on popular places to travel in Spain. The pandemic was getting to me and then I saw this beautiful picture of Mallorca, along with a note on this book. Temptation got the best of me.
Los pueblos pequeños más populares de España (see page 9 of 17)
-
https://elviajero.elpais.com/elviajer...
George Sand spent the winter of 1838-39 with her two children and Frederick Chopin. They wanted to get away from the cold Paris winter and the light and warmth of the Mediterranean isle beckoned. Sadly, Chopin was suffering from tuberculosis and the ideal holiday ended rather abruptly. However, it was a productive time for Chopin and Sand.
Her book is a travelogue of her stay on the island. It’s personal and documented, full of history on the island and it’s people. She relies on a travel art book, by J.B. Laurens, “Souvenirs d'un voyage d'art à l'île de Majorque” for background content.
How does she fare? Well, a woman, her two children and her sickly lover thrown into a culture far removed from her own Parisian culture. In short, a culture shock. I was fascinated by her comments, interests and issues that developed. For the French audience, perhaps a knowledgeable travel guide.
Mallorca in the 19th century: sun, fresh air, warmer climate at a simpler pace. In winter, it was more rain, cold and drafty buildings, language barriers and even cultural issues. What were they thinking? Winter?
Take for example the food, she was disgusted with calamari, but enjoyed the bread. The wine was not Bordeaux but she loved the liqueur. She seemed to enjoy the fiestas, most notably the rustic songs and dress. She even has an intriguing section on limosine, known now as the Catalan language.
She enjoyed the rocky but challenging walks in the countryside. Relished in lush variety of plants, notably the olive, the cypresses and the birds overhead. Getting around was pleasant until it wasn’t.
Her descriptions, along with historical background of the famous buildings, such as La Lonja, the cathedral of Palma and of course, La Chartreuse, the monastery at Valldemosa are all wonderfully described.
She points out the connection to Hugo Napoleon, a Corsican ancestor, but comes down hard on the Inquisition. She writes a comparison of the monastic, religious art in a short dialogue between an old man and a young man (I quite enjoyed this)!
To put this into perspective, she transcends time. How many of us travel to a new place, get enthralled by something new but the longer we are there, our peculiarities surface, and before we know it, it’s time for us to go home.
Debating a 3 or 4 so let’s agree on 3.5.
Los pueblos pequeños más populares de España (see page 9 of 17)
-
https://elviajero.elpais.com/elviajer...
George Sand spent the winter of 1838-39 with her two children and Frederick Chopin. They wanted to get away from the cold Paris winter and the light and warmth of the Mediterranean isle beckoned. Sadly, Chopin was suffering from tuberculosis and the ideal holiday ended rather abruptly. However, it was a productive time for Chopin and Sand.
Her book is a travelogue of her stay on the island. It’s personal and documented, full of history on the island and it’s people. She relies on a travel art book, by J.B. Laurens, “Souvenirs d'un voyage d'art à l'île de Majorque” for background content.
How does she fare? Well, a woman, her two children and her sickly lover thrown into a culture far removed from her own Parisian culture. In short, a culture shock. I was fascinated by her comments, interests and issues that developed. For the French audience, perhaps a knowledgeable travel guide.
Mallorca in the 19th century: sun, fresh air, warmer climate at a simpler pace. In winter, it was more rain, cold and drafty buildings, language barriers and even cultural issues. What were they thinking? Winter?
Take for example the food, she was disgusted with calamari, but enjoyed the bread. The wine was not Bordeaux but she loved the liqueur. She seemed to enjoy the fiestas, most notably the rustic songs and dress. She even has an intriguing section on limosine, known now as the Catalan language.
She enjoyed the rocky but challenging walks in the countryside. Relished in lush variety of plants, notably the olive, the cypresses and the birds overhead. Getting around was pleasant until it wasn’t.
Her descriptions, along with historical background of the famous buildings, such as La Lonja, the cathedral of Palma and of course, La Chartreuse, the monastery at Valldemosa are all wonderfully described.
She points out the connection to Hugo Napoleon, a Corsican ancestor, but comes down hard on the Inquisition. She writes a comparison of the monastic, religious art in a short dialogue between an old man and a young man (I quite enjoyed this)!
To put this into perspective, she transcends time. How many of us travel to a new place, get enthralled by something new but the longer we are there, our peculiarities surface, and before we know it, it’s time for us to go home.
Debating a 3 or 4 so let’s agree on 3.5.
June 30, 2022
So many more quotes I could have included !!!!!
« …in the certainty that you will pity rather than envy me, and will judge that too high a price can be paid for one or two transports of admiration and one or two hours of ecstasy wrestled from ill-fortune. »
« In this context therefore I beg everyone to consider my personality as something altogether passive, a telescope for observing scenes in distant lands that invite the catch-phrase: « I would rather believe you than go and see… »
« The fact is that nowhere, these days, is anyone genuinely happy, and that of the countless faces assumed by the Ideal- or, if you dislike the word, the concept of something better- travel is one of the most engaging and most deceitful. »
« Thé weak and at the same time violent side of measures which this decree was destined to entail, I must confess that standing among these ruins I felt an emotion other than the sorrow usually aroused by ruins. »
« I told myself that, disregarding political issues of the day (for which I may be permitted to profess dislike and a studied ignorance) I could at least form a synthetic judgement on men and even on events,
without fear of becoming ridiculous. »
« This, at any rate, is how I felt when I viewed these ruins, not yet blackened by Time and as it were themselves protesting against the past and heralding the dawn of truth in the hearts of the people. »
« "But how is it that with such deep conviction as yours you artists can allow the arts to die out? »
« Hence your intellect often worships the visible manifestation of emotion which your heart, if aware of it, would reject. »
« and when we reflect seriously upon ourselves, we realize the impossibility of ever expressing creatively this infinitude of life which enthrals and intoxicates us. »
« One grows accustomed to living beneath
the sway of one's senses, and all sensuous over-indulgence is punished by the law of nervous irritation. »
« thé choice which confronted him between
rebellion and submission, between philosophical doubt and superstitious dread »
« As usual, I have given way to the influence of memories and now, after this attempt to convey my impressions, I wonder why I could not have said in twenty lines what has already covered as many pages »
« But such is not the true destiny of
man: man is born for action and has an appointed task to fulfill. What matter, if it be hard? Is he not faced with the task of Love? »
« In the stormy days of our youth, we imagine that solitude is a sure refuge from the assaults of life, a certain balm for the
wounds of battle. »
« …in the certainty that you will pity rather than envy me, and will judge that too high a price can be paid for one or two transports of admiration and one or two hours of ecstasy wrestled from ill-fortune. »
« In this context therefore I beg everyone to consider my personality as something altogether passive, a telescope for observing scenes in distant lands that invite the catch-phrase: « I would rather believe you than go and see… »
« The fact is that nowhere, these days, is anyone genuinely happy, and that of the countless faces assumed by the Ideal- or, if you dislike the word, the concept of something better- travel is one of the most engaging and most deceitful. »
« Thé weak and at the same time violent side of measures which this decree was destined to entail, I must confess that standing among these ruins I felt an emotion other than the sorrow usually aroused by ruins. »
« I told myself that, disregarding political issues of the day (for which I may be permitted to profess dislike and a studied ignorance) I could at least form a synthetic judgement on men and even on events,
without fear of becoming ridiculous. »
« This, at any rate, is how I felt when I viewed these ruins, not yet blackened by Time and as it were themselves protesting against the past and heralding the dawn of truth in the hearts of the people. »
« "But how is it that with such deep conviction as yours you artists can allow the arts to die out? »
« Hence your intellect often worships the visible manifestation of emotion which your heart, if aware of it, would reject. »
« and when we reflect seriously upon ourselves, we realize the impossibility of ever expressing creatively this infinitude of life which enthrals and intoxicates us. »
« One grows accustomed to living beneath
the sway of one's senses, and all sensuous over-indulgence is punished by the law of nervous irritation. »
« thé choice which confronted him between
rebellion and submission, between philosophical doubt and superstitious dread »
« As usual, I have given way to the influence of memories and now, after this attempt to convey my impressions, I wonder why I could not have said in twenty lines what has already covered as many pages »
« But such is not the true destiny of
man: man is born for action and has an appointed task to fulfill. What matter, if it be hard? Is he not faced with the task of Love? »
« In the stormy days of our youth, we imagine that solitude is a sure refuge from the assaults of life, a certain balm for the
wounds of battle. »
June 22, 2017
“Life resembles a novel more often than novels resemble life.”
(Aurore) Amantine-Lucile-Aurore Dupin was an aristocrat who lived up to her famous statement. She was born in 1804 and married in 1822, at the age of eighteen, Casimir Dudevant with whom she had two children. Maurice in 1823 and Solange in 1828. This “Normal” life came to an end in 1831 when she left her husband and children moving to Paris, in modern terms, to find herself. She embarked on a series of affairs with prominent writers and musicians. Her first lover, Jules Sandeau helped her develop as a writer and co-authored articles, which they signed “J Sand”. It was with the publication of her first novel, Indiana, in 1832 that she decided to call herself George Sands. In 1835 she legally separated and took her children with her.
Sands scandalised society not just by having affairs but also by dressing as a man, earning a living writing and smoking in public. Probably her most famous lover was Frédéric Chopin and “A Winter in Majorca” is the story of their search for peace and healing for his chronic chest problems. It was published in a magazine in 1841 and as a book in 1842. The copy I have was published in 2014. It is a revised translation of the original by Shirley Kerby James. I do not have the original translation to compare, but would like to compliment Shirley Kerby James for an outstanding rendering of the original and the way in which she has preserved the mood and flavour of Sand's time.
Chopin had a weak chest and some modern authorities think he had pulmonary fibrosis. In any event, a friend suggested that spending winter in a warm climate would help him and proposed the island of Mallorca. One must assume the friend had never been there because, as the lovers were soon to discover, the island's winter climate is far from warm or healthy. They, George, Frédéric and her two children arrived in Palma on 7th November 1838. The first shock was to discover there were no hotels. They managed to find a couple of rooms to rent and finally a country villa. Added to their misery was the problem of Chopin's piano or rather the fact that the import duty was almost as much as its actual cost and they were forbidden from shipping it back to France, without paying the duty.
At first, they enjoyed their country villa, despite having to buy furniture and life seemed good until it started raining. It rained for two months; the villa was damp and that exacerbated Chopin's cough at which point they came up against Mallorcan superstition. The owner of the villa furiously accused them of bringing a plague into his house and gave immediate notice for them to leave. The locals decided that Chopin had TB and treated them all as lepers. Sands rails against the primitive attitudes and inhuman treatment they received. The Mallorcans in turn condemned the scandalous behaviour of a woman wearing men's clothes, living openly with a man, not her husband, exposing her children to this sin and, dressing her daughter like a boy.
It was not a good start and relations never improved with Sands condemning the islanders as dirty, ignorant, superstitious, mean spirited, thieving idle scoundrels. Indeed, she claims that they only met two creatures during their stay that treated them with kindness. A goat they bought to provide milk and a 16-year-old girl who guided them to a beach. Having been chased out of the villa they found refuge in Valldemossa at the charterhouse, by then abandoned by all but one monk. They took over the “Cells” of a couple that gladly sold their furniture as they were leaving the island in a hurry. The cells are in fact two large rooms with a private garden and were their home until they left Mallorca in February 1839. Despite poor weather Chopin wrote some of his greatest works in Valldemossa.
What fascinated me mostly about this book, apart from wonderful descriptions of nature, are the underlying political and religious concerns she airs. The Spanish inquisition had been abolished by Bonaparte in 1813, but reinstated a year later by the restored monarchy. In 1826, Cayetano Ripolla a schoolmaster was the last person executed by the inquisition – his crime – teaching deism. It was finally abolished in July 1834. Although the Inquisition's Casaa Negra Palma HQ had been attacked and destroyed by a mob in 1820, Sands records firsthand accounts of the misery the inquisition inflicted. The second concern, almost an obsession, is that of proving that Napoleon Bonaparte was French, more that he was also the scion of a noble family. She clutches at a variety of straws like a treasure hunter not sure which way up to hold the pirate's map. Sands could claim to be the first feminist. Certainly she had liberal views in respect of democracy and the place of women in society. Her adoration of a man who, in her lifetime had been responsible for the deaths of over six million seems at variance with those views and trying to prove he was not Italian, extraordinarily odd.
Despite my comments on her Bonaparte fixation I found the book fascinating. To often people view the world through the prism of “Now” rather than seeking to understand “Then”. This book affords an opportunity to walk, live, eat and breath in early 19th century Mallorca. The descriptions are wonderful and the observations acute. This is history written as it happened and it’s still alive 175 years later.
George Sands was an extraordinary woman and having started with a quote I will end with one that I think she may, if asked, have chosen as her epitaph. She craved love and seems to have only achieved her dream fleetingly.
Don't walk in front of me, I may not follow.
Don't walk behind me, I may not lead.
There is only one happiness in life, to love and be loved.
July 7, 2025
"But if [Sand] is to be granted any talent at all, and her talent was considerable, then credit should be given where credit is due - to her superb work in "nonfiction." This word may make the reader wince, since it seems curiously anachronistic in this context and unsuited to one who seldom deserted the comforts of the fictive. And yet that is precisely the point. Sand's nonfiction - her chronicles, memoirs, letters, and travel correspondence - were far ahead of their time and also the truest expression of her gift for fiction.
The subject of George Sand's nonfiction was always, in one way or another, George Sand: the myth of herself was her only truly artistic creation. We can trace the emergence of a distinctive nonfiction style in her early letters, in the landscape meditations of the Letters of a Voyager, in A Winter in Majorca (which, though exhibiting the usual defects of travel writing - the dyspeptic complaints about the weather and the food, the bigoted attacks on the lazy thieving natives - remains a classic of the genre), and in that neglected little gem "A Journal of the Coup d'Etat."" (The Love Affair as a Work of Art, Dan Hofstadter, pp. 165-166)
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This is labeled as a "revised translation of the original by Shirley Kerby James." To say that the editing and proofreading is scant would be overstating it. The memoir is divided into three sections: First Part, Second Part, and Part Three. (You thought it was going to be Third Part, right?)
This is just a partial list of typos:
duting (for during)
filed (for field)
costums (for costumes)
oft (for of)
"let her take your on an adventure"
"graceful charm to a ear of a foreigner"
"they cries that it was a miracle"
Marjorcans
corteous
romantisism
goaler (for gaoler)
gamble (for gambol)
wetted (for whetted)
theses days
colomns
bares witness
bare a resemblance
deligthed
pitturesque
magnificient
testiment
dispicable
companian
freqent
scandulous
marvals
marvallous
unreasonbale
exstasies
flatulance
brightnesss
My favorite error was a photo caption: "the Pleyel piano he took für his compositions."
I've never seen a worse treatment of hyphenated line breaks. It's as if somone not only didn't know English, but was unfamiliar with French too:
administrati-on
alt-hough
anyo-ne
appariti-on
archi-ves
aro-und
becau-se
befo-re
blacks-mith
brid-ge
bun-ches
cal-led
chan-ge
cha-ste
clu-sters
confusi-on
conservati-ves
cour-tyard
disgui-se
earthenwa-re
enclo-sed
ever-ywere [sic]
fi-shermen
furro-wed
futu-re
gover-nment
gra-ves
handso-me
hel-ping
impressi-ve
lea-gue
litt-le
masquera-de
massi-ve
midd-le
natu-re
obser-ve
padd-ed
patien-ce
phra-se
pla-ces
presen-ce
priva-te
sce-nes
sha-des
sho-wed
silen-ce
slo-wly
stran-ge
stro-ke
themsel-ves
thro-ne
whiten-ess
Still, there are some hilarious passages:
My daughter’s shirt and trousers also offended them. They considered it very bad that a ‘young person’ of nine years old ran around the mountains, ‘disguised as a man.’
On Sundays, the cow-horn that sounded in the village and along the lanes to call the latecomers to the service, pursued us in the Charterhouse in vain. We were deaf to it because we didn’t understand, and when we did understand, we were even more deaf to it.
There are no cows in those mountains and the goat milk they sold us was always drunk on the way by the children who brought it, which didn’t prevent the jug from arriving even fuller than when it started.
November 13, 2009
I chose this because it is short and I had never read George Sand, but it was mostly like watching a cat fight. Robert Graves came to bury, not to praise her, in this (apparently first) English translation, with his annotations, copyright 1956. His flurry of footnotes never lets up: "No: it was called..." and "No: the islands..." and "Not true." He knows Majorca well and objects to and/or refutes most of what she says, one way or another. You do get some glimpses of Sand, the woman and the writer, and Chopin, her companion that winter of 1838, but mostly it's a setup for Graves. And he finishes Sand off with Quadrado's long 1841 defense of the honor of Majorca, which ends by saying "George Sand is the most immoral of writers and...the most obscene of women."
September 22, 2018
Diese Aufzeichnungen von George Sand habe ich mir 2008 in den Flitterwochen von Mallorca mitgebracht. Fing bereits dort an zu lesen, im Flieger und beendete das wunderbare Buch zu Hause.
Allerdings hat mein Buch ein schöneres Cover, das die Besonderheit Mallorcas und seinen Glanz und die Ruhe besser wiedergibt. Wir besuchten dort auch das Kloster, in dem George Sand während jener Zeit lebte. Dieses Buch weckt immer wieder das Gefühl für Reisen in mir, das Fernweh, aber auch die Ruhe des Verweilens.
Dieses persönliche Buch von Sand war etwas Besonderes für mich, hat mich berührt und wird bleiben, in mir.
Allerdings hat mein Buch ein schöneres Cover, das die Besonderheit Mallorcas und seinen Glanz und die Ruhe besser wiedergibt. Wir besuchten dort auch das Kloster, in dem George Sand während jener Zeit lebte. Dieses Buch weckt immer wieder das Gefühl für Reisen in mir, das Fernweh, aber auch die Ruhe des Verweilens.
Dieses persönliche Buch von Sand war etwas Besonderes für mich, hat mich berührt und wird bleiben, in mir.
July 16, 2008
I read this in a famous translation by Robert Graves - unfortunately he took umbrage at George Sand's negative comments on Majorca, and, as he went on, started to add enormous footnotes arguing with the text and pointing out inaccuracies. These are sometimes amusing, sometimes infuriating, and make reading the book a slightly strange experience!
April 6, 2024
I recently saw a ballet called "Rain in December" in Estonia and this made me pull out the volume of "Winter in Majorca" again. I had read it about 40 years before but the ballet made me go back to it. I bought it thinking, I remember, that it was George Sand's diary, thinking that it would tell me the love story between George Sand and Frederic Chopin. However, rereading or leafing through it again, the book is really about the island of Majorca. It is indeed written by George Sand, a hugely popular novelist in the 19th century, but what interested me in the book was added by Robert Graves, the translator. Chopin is only referred to as "our invalid" - quite disappointing.
February 7, 2024
Я дууууже рідко ставлю одну зірку, і тим паче кидаю книгу на половині, але кожна сторінка "Зими в Майорці" фізично відчувалася як втрачене життя.
Я думала, що це буде розповідь про те, як Жорж Санд провела кілька місяців на Майорці зі своїм коханцем Шопеном - на той момент для консервативного християнського суспільства це було неабияким нахабством (спойлер алерт: наразі жителі Майорки нормально так доять цю історію для туристів). Але замість замальовок з їхньої подорожі та зустрічей з локалзами ми отримали... вікіпедію 19 століття, де вона просто переписує історію кожного монастиря з архівів. Ні, я в цілому не маю нічого проти такого концепту, але нащо тоді називати це "Зимою на Майорці", а не "Історія монастирів Пальми де Майорка"?
Лише на початку було трошки того, на що я очікувала - і, boy, Жорж Санд була не дуже милою жіночкою, не дивно, що майорканці її загейтили.
Коротше, я розчарована і засмучена - мені подобаються тревел-розповіді з минулих століть, але "Зима на Майорці" явно не з цієї категорії.
Я думала, що це буде розповідь про те, як Жорж Санд провела кілька місяців на Майорці зі своїм коханцем Шопеном - на той момент для консервативного християнського суспільства це було неабияким нахабством (спойлер алерт: наразі жителі Майорки нормально так доять цю історію для туристів). Але замість замальовок з їхньої подорожі та зустрічей з локалзами ми отримали... вікіпедію 19 століття, де вона просто переписує історію кожного монастиря з архівів. Ні, я в цілому не маю нічого проти такого концепту, але нащо тоді називати це "Зимою на Майорці", а не "Історія монастирів Пальми де Майорка"?
Лише на початку було трошки того, на що я очікувала - і, boy, Жорж Санд була не дуже милою жіночкою, не дивно, що майорканці її загейтили.
Коротше, я розчарована і засмучена - мені подобаються тревел-розповіді з минулих століть, але "Зима на Майорці" явно не з цієї категорії.
March 6, 2014
ETA 17/2/2012 - Goodreads quote of the day: Guard well within yourself that treasure, kindness. Know how to give without hesitation, how to lose without regret, how to acquire without meanness. - George Sand
She should have employed some kindness here!
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Letter from a reader to one that is thinking of reading: In order to reconcile you to having been deprived of actual physical reading of George Sands's vitriolic attack on the largest of the Balearic Islands, I am reviewing my journey through this book, in the certainty that I shall arouse your compassion rather than your envy, and that you will conclude that too high a price (twenty-seven pee) can be paid for some outbursts and only two seconds of delight (the lovely cover) can be wrested.
She should have employed some kindness here!
----------------------------------------
Letter from a reader to one that is thinking of reading: In order to reconcile you to having been deprived of actual physical reading of George Sands's vitriolic attack on the largest of the Balearic Islands, I am reviewing my journey through this book, in the certainty that I shall arouse your compassion rather than your envy, and that you will conclude that too high a price (twenty-seven pee) can be paid for some outbursts and only two seconds of delight (the lovely cover) can be wrested.
Want to read
November 6, 2015Free download in French available at Project Gutenberg.
October 15, 2023
Entonces Dios bajó del cielo y dijo "El español es ignorante y supersticioso; por consiguiente cree en el contagio, teme la enfermedad y la muerte, está falto de fe y de caridad. Es miserable y se halla agobiado por los tributos; por consiguiente, es codicioso, egoísta, tramposo con el extranjero"
January 16, 2017
In a recent holiday to Majorca I visited the famous house that was home to author and notable figure George Sand, her two children and her 'friend' Chopin in 1838. There visitors can see the piano used by Chopin, various portraits and other personal belongings left by them, and the gift shop includes a variety of copies of this book that was written about her experiences there by George Sand after her three month visit. What is rather amazing is that her recollections and opinions of her time at Valldemosa are hostile and cruel; she appreciated the natural beauty of the island but wrote scathing descriptions of the local people (who didn't seem to have made enough fuss of her). Her book seems like what today's celebrities and reality-show stars might twitter about -- the world as it appears to her self-centred eye. Majorcans could do better in finding tourist descriptions of their beautiful island!
May 6, 2014
When in Majorca, why not read about George Sand, a French novelist and memoirist, who was Chopin's lover? So I did. They spent the cold, wet winter of 1838-39 on the island in an abandoned Carthusian monastery. Sand's writing is a dense literary bouquet of sometimes scathing, sometimes lyrical digressions, opinions, historical research, geography and parable. I particularly liked her descriptions of landscapes, dotted with man's architectural thumbprint, in sunshine and moonlight and storm. I do not agree with her declarations on why we travel and on the false balm of solitude, or with her privileged condescension of the natives molded by their isolated history.
February 16, 2023
Com a mallorquí no he pogut evitar sentir-me un poc ofés, sobretot quan mos ha definit com a ‘moneies’. Però essent sinçer m’ha agradat bastant, he aprés moltes coses que desconeixia sobre Mallorca i he d’admetre que segons quines parts m’han fet riure lo seu. Ara bé, puc entendre algunes de ses critiques que fa an es mallorquins de fa dos segles, però lo de moneies m’ha caigut com una potada an es cul.
April 16, 2018
Not great. Taken to Majorca as I like to read something local. It's non-fiction, and a bit whiney (I understand why she is whiney and it’s justified, but it doesn’t make great literature). I used to find some merit in Sand’s writing but now if I feel she is only known for her notoriety and her extraordinary character and exploits rather than her writing which has dated badly.
January 9, 2025
I really enjoyed reading ‘A Winter in Mallorca’ and found it a fascinating insight into the island I hold so dear. George Sand's vivid descriptions of the Mallorcan landscape are beautifully evocative, and it was captivating to imagine the island as it was in the mid-19th century. Her portrayal of the places and her experiences was compelling and offered a unique historical lens.
However, I found her disparaging attitude toward the island's people and culture troubling. Her harsh judgments seemed unfair and at odds with the beauty she so clearly admired in the land itself. While it’s a valuable historical document, her condescension makes it harder to fully embrace the work.
Still, for anyone who loves Mallorca or is curious about its past, this book is worth reading—even if you end up, like me, disagreeing with many of her sentiments.
However, I found her disparaging attitude toward the island's people and culture troubling. Her harsh judgments seemed unfair and at odds with the beauty she so clearly admired in the land itself. While it’s a valuable historical document, her condescension makes it harder to fully embrace the work.
Still, for anyone who loves Mallorca or is curious about its past, this book is worth reading—even if you end up, like me, disagreeing with many of her sentiments.
December 28, 2022
Tenía muchas ganas de leer este libro y, sinceramente, bajas expectativas. Las ganas las hace el hecho de vivir en Mallorca y saber que este libro fue escrito por George Sand (pseudónimo de Amantine Aurore Dupin) después de pasar un invierno aquí junto a Chopin, en ese momento su amante, y sus dos hijos.
Nos encontramos ante un “Diario de viaje” en el que la autora sólo salva la parte paisajística.
Trata la isla como inhóspita y sobretodo a los isleños, a los que considera monos. (“La isla de los simios” le dice).
En mi edición el libro acaba con un escrito de Robert Graves, otro gran escritor que pasó parte de su vida en Mallorca. En él nos justifica y da luz a algunos de los hechos y actitudes que llevaron a Sand a hablar con esa rabia de este viaje. Sobretodo, me ha llamado la atención el hecho de que Chipín, al enfermar, necesitase sus cuidados y ella relegase todo su talento (incluso dejara a medias un libro que estaba escribiendo) para hacer de cocinera, criada y enfermera…. mientras él componía varias de sus mejores obras.
Pero centrándonos en el libro, ha superado con creces mis expectativas. En la primera parte nos presenta algunos capítulos dedicados a Palma y Establiments. Me ha gustado su narrativa irónica, con sentido del humor y aportando comparaciones con otros bellos lugares y referencias a otros escritores que habían viajado a la isla.
Ya en estos primeros capítulos habla de lo poco que le gusta la comida, el aceite, las carreteras, el clima, y los mallorquines.
También nos explica las consecuencias que tuvo en la isla la desamortización de Mendizábal.
En la segunda parte nos regala alguna leyenda y un capítulo con un registro diferente, en el que dos hombres, un clérigo y un artista mantienen una conversación entre filosofía, arte y existencialistmo.
Es en la tercera parte donde para mí el libro coge realmente ritmo. Por fin llegan a la Cartuja de Valldemosa. Capítulos descriptivos, con una narrativa ágil y fluída.
Nos cuenta tradiciones mallorquinas y sobretodo se queja de lo mal que se lo hicieron pasar, llegando a no querer venderles alimentos básicos.
También nos habla de algunos personajes ilustres de la isla, como Vicente Ferrer .
Por último, como he comentado, un epílogo donde termino de entender que este libro podría estar más documentado y ofrece una visión parcial de lo que realmente pudo pasar.
Aún así, para mí es un buen comienzo con Sand y ya estoy pensando cual será el próximo libro suyo que me leeré.
No olvidemos que George Sand fue una de las escritoras más influyentes del s. XX en Francia. Una mujer de armas tomar; republicana, vestía como un hombre , fumaba y amaba a quien quería cuando quería.
Tiene para mí todo mi respeto y admiración.
Nos encontramos ante un “Diario de viaje” en el que la autora sólo salva la parte paisajística.
Trata la isla como inhóspita y sobretodo a los isleños, a los que considera monos. (“La isla de los simios” le dice).
En mi edición el libro acaba con un escrito de Robert Graves, otro gran escritor que pasó parte de su vida en Mallorca. En él nos justifica y da luz a algunos de los hechos y actitudes que llevaron a Sand a hablar con esa rabia de este viaje. Sobretodo, me ha llamado la atención el hecho de que Chipín, al enfermar, necesitase sus cuidados y ella relegase todo su talento (incluso dejara a medias un libro que estaba escribiendo) para hacer de cocinera, criada y enfermera…. mientras él componía varias de sus mejores obras.
Pero centrándonos en el libro, ha superado con creces mis expectativas. En la primera parte nos presenta algunos capítulos dedicados a Palma y Establiments. Me ha gustado su narrativa irónica, con sentido del humor y aportando comparaciones con otros bellos lugares y referencias a otros escritores que habían viajado a la isla.
Ya en estos primeros capítulos habla de lo poco que le gusta la comida, el aceite, las carreteras, el clima, y los mallorquines.
También nos explica las consecuencias que tuvo en la isla la desamortización de Mendizábal.
En la segunda parte nos regala alguna leyenda y un capítulo con un registro diferente, en el que dos hombres, un clérigo y un artista mantienen una conversación entre filosofía, arte y existencialistmo.
Es en la tercera parte donde para mí el libro coge realmente ritmo. Por fin llegan a la Cartuja de Valldemosa. Capítulos descriptivos, con una narrativa ágil y fluída.
Nos cuenta tradiciones mallorquinas y sobretodo se queja de lo mal que se lo hicieron pasar, llegando a no querer venderles alimentos básicos.
También nos habla de algunos personajes ilustres de la isla, como Vicente Ferrer .
Por último, como he comentado, un epílogo donde termino de entender que este libro podría estar más documentado y ofrece una visión parcial de lo que realmente pudo pasar.
Aún así, para mí es un buen comienzo con Sand y ya estoy pensando cual será el próximo libro suyo que me leeré.
No olvidemos que George Sand fue una de las escritoras más influyentes del s. XX en Francia. Una mujer de armas tomar; republicana, vestía como un hombre , fumaba y amaba a quien quería cuando quería.
Tiene para mí todo mi respeto y admiración.
July 20, 2017
George Sand wrote of a winter...1838...in Majorca...with her lover Frederick Chopin. The book does not mention Chopin by name. A few mentions of a piano, a few mentions of an invalid traveling with her. I found most interesting the footnotes by Robert Graves who corrects Sand's multi misrepresentations of geography and history. Sand writes from the perspective of a bitter woman, critical of the Majorcan people, resentful of her role as Chopin's nurse, and apparently that winter...even in Spain...can indeed be wet and cold!
August 17, 2019
Irregular i una mica vague, la veritat és que no és fins la tercera i darrera part (dedicada a Valldemossa) que la forma de contar les seves experiències agafa força i té encant. Les dades enciclopèdiques que ocupen bona part del llibre haurien estat més interessants si s'anessin impregnant més de records i sensacions personals, els quals queden molt relegats a certes parts (i així i tot hi ha personatges, com Chopin, que pràcticament ni surten).
February 23, 2015
I purchased this book during a visit to Chopin's house in Majorca, and decided I'd upgrade it from "souvenir" to "a book I've read". Instead it's been demoted to "incredibly boring souvenir":
October 8, 2008
A very pointed little book about how backward the Mallorquin are. It was amusing to read while there, however.
January 9, 2023
Infumable desvarío de resentimiento, prepotencia y mala educación.
Read
June 9, 2020No he llegit cap altre llibre d’aquesta escriptora, amant de Chopin i que va anar amb els seus fills i el músic a passar l’hivern de 1838 a Mallorca. Senzillament per descansar, diu, per deixar enrere les obligacions socials i també, segons sabem, perquè pensaven que el clima de les Balears enfortiria el cos malaltís del pianista.
Sobten els primers capítols on només ressalta els defectes dels mallorquins (mesquins, garrepes, desconfiats, primaris, mandrosos), sense observar en ells la més mínima qualitat i destaca les incomoditats dels llocs que van habitar i del clima inclement que van haver de suportar. Em crida l’atenció el que diu dels porcs, que els pagesos tracten com si fossin de la família. No parla només per boca seva en les seves afirmacions, es basa també en relats d’altres autors que van descobrir l’illa abans que ella – o ell, perquè sempre parla en masculí, fent honor al seu pseudònim-: J.O. Laurens a Recuerdos de un viaje artístico a la isla de Mallorca; el senyor Grasset de Saint Sauveur; el senyor Tastu, erudit lingüista; el senyor Aragó, que al 1808 tenia l’encàrrec de Napoleó de mesurar el Meridià; Miguel de Vargas, etc.
Van visitar Palma i ens parla de la Catedral, la llotja -descrita per Jovellanos-, el Palau Reial i el palau de l’Ajuntament.
Finalment s’hostatgen a la Cartoixa de Valldemossa.
En el capítol quart de la segona part, abandona l’estil narratiu i descriptiu per inventar un diàleg entre un jove i un monjo vell, sobre qüestions filosòfiques i existencials. Com que el vell va estar empresonat per la Inquisició, ens assabentem, a través d’ell, com s’acarnissava aquest tribunal contra els que s’apartaven dels dogmes de l’Església i s’atrevien a mostrar alguna opinió controvertida.
En un altre capítol transcriu un text del senyor Tastu, que ens parla de Miguel de Fabra, fundador de l’ordre dominicana dels Germans Predicadors de Mallorca (1229).
Hem d’arribar a la tercera part per trobar alguns elogis de la Cartoixa i els seus entorns (“creación libre y primitiva que tanto me ha encantado en Mallorca”).
És la part que he trobat més interessant i descriptiva. No parla només del lloc sinó de les festes populars (Carnaval) i els vestits tradicionals de la gent dels pobles.
Ens resenya “anales devotos de Valldemosa” on es parla de la beata Catalina Tomàs, que ja des de jove va mostrar una gran fe i recolliment. Explica que l’afecte que els mallorquins professaven als seus monjos era una qüestió de cobdícia, perquè aquests, despreocupats dels béns materials, no els reclamaven els deutes que aquells havien contret amb ells. En canvi, l’Estat no els perdonava res i havien d’abandonar la seva natural droperia per fer que la terra rendís.
També justifica per què els camperols mallorquins van abraçar el carlisme: perquè no sentien cap inquietud política ni patriòtica i sí uns desitjos secrets d’instaurar les velles costums i seguir vivint amos de la propietat, gaudint de la calma de l’illa i, sobretot, practicant la prudència.
Al grup que formaven ella, els seus fills i el músic els tenien com a heretges, perquè no seguien les pràctiques religioses i, a més, com que hi havia el malalt (Chopin) que tots deien que estava tísic, els feien el buit. Queda clar que ho van passar molt malament. Per aconseguir menjar o ajut, havien de pagar un preu desorbitat.
També descriu dues excursions amb els seus fills fins al mar per uns penya-segats perillosos, però que li van oferir unes vistes meravelloses. En canvi, descriu molt vívidament una tornada de Palma, ella i el seu fill, un dia de tempesta en què van estar set hores per fer el camí, mig en una tartana i un cavall que havia de travessar torrents crescuts, i mig a peu perquè la bèstia es va negar a seguir endavant.
Per fi, de tornada, quan van poder arribar al port de Barcelona i pujar en el vaixell de guerra francès que els havia de dur al seu país, envoltats de gent amable, acollidora i sol·lícita, van exclamar “Viva França”, com si tornessin a la civilització des d’un món salvatge.
16 de maig de 2020
Sobten els primers capítols on només ressalta els defectes dels mallorquins (mesquins, garrepes, desconfiats, primaris, mandrosos), sense observar en ells la més mínima qualitat i destaca les incomoditats dels llocs que van habitar i del clima inclement que van haver de suportar. Em crida l’atenció el que diu dels porcs, que els pagesos tracten com si fossin de la família. No parla només per boca seva en les seves afirmacions, es basa també en relats d’altres autors que van descobrir l’illa abans que ella – o ell, perquè sempre parla en masculí, fent honor al seu pseudònim-: J.O. Laurens a Recuerdos de un viaje artístico a la isla de Mallorca; el senyor Grasset de Saint Sauveur; el senyor Tastu, erudit lingüista; el senyor Aragó, que al 1808 tenia l’encàrrec de Napoleó de mesurar el Meridià; Miguel de Vargas, etc.
Van visitar Palma i ens parla de la Catedral, la llotja -descrita per Jovellanos-, el Palau Reial i el palau de l’Ajuntament.
Finalment s’hostatgen a la Cartoixa de Valldemossa.
En el capítol quart de la segona part, abandona l’estil narratiu i descriptiu per inventar un diàleg entre un jove i un monjo vell, sobre qüestions filosòfiques i existencials. Com que el vell va estar empresonat per la Inquisició, ens assabentem, a través d’ell, com s’acarnissava aquest tribunal contra els que s’apartaven dels dogmes de l’Església i s’atrevien a mostrar alguna opinió controvertida.
En un altre capítol transcriu un text del senyor Tastu, que ens parla de Miguel de Fabra, fundador de l’ordre dominicana dels Germans Predicadors de Mallorca (1229).
Hem d’arribar a la tercera part per trobar alguns elogis de la Cartoixa i els seus entorns (“creación libre y primitiva que tanto me ha encantado en Mallorca”).
És la part que he trobat més interessant i descriptiva. No parla només del lloc sinó de les festes populars (Carnaval) i els vestits tradicionals de la gent dels pobles.
Ens resenya “anales devotos de Valldemosa” on es parla de la beata Catalina Tomàs, que ja des de jove va mostrar una gran fe i recolliment. Explica que l’afecte que els mallorquins professaven als seus monjos era una qüestió de cobdícia, perquè aquests, despreocupats dels béns materials, no els reclamaven els deutes que aquells havien contret amb ells. En canvi, l’Estat no els perdonava res i havien d’abandonar la seva natural droperia per fer que la terra rendís.
També justifica per què els camperols mallorquins van abraçar el carlisme: perquè no sentien cap inquietud política ni patriòtica i sí uns desitjos secrets d’instaurar les velles costums i seguir vivint amos de la propietat, gaudint de la calma de l’illa i, sobretot, practicant la prudència.
Al grup que formaven ella, els seus fills i el músic els tenien com a heretges, perquè no seguien les pràctiques religioses i, a més, com que hi havia el malalt (Chopin) que tots deien que estava tísic, els feien el buit. Queda clar que ho van passar molt malament. Per aconseguir menjar o ajut, havien de pagar un preu desorbitat.
També descriu dues excursions amb els seus fills fins al mar per uns penya-segats perillosos, però que li van oferir unes vistes meravelloses. En canvi, descriu molt vívidament una tornada de Palma, ella i el seu fill, un dia de tempesta en què van estar set hores per fer el camí, mig en una tartana i un cavall que havia de travessar torrents crescuts, i mig a peu perquè la bèstia es va negar a seguir endavant.
Per fi, de tornada, quan van poder arribar al port de Barcelona i pujar en el vaixell de guerra francès que els havia de dur al seu país, envoltats de gent amable, acollidora i sol·lícita, van exclamar “Viva França”, com si tornessin a la civilització des d’un món salvatge.
16 de maig de 2020
June 1, 2023
Travel, broadens the mind, perhaps… Whether it does clearly depends on the mind in question and, when that mind has learned bigotry, shares its ends, and does not question its own assumptions, the broadening is at best minimal. That this happened in the case of a famous visit to a now tourist hotspot is the only conclusion we can draw from the account by Amatine Lucile Aurore Dupin de Franceuil, or indeeed de Dudevant, better known to posterity as the novelist George Sand.
Though her novels may not now be widely read, George Sand is etched in the minds of many music lovers as the person with whom Frederick Chopin lived for several years. Indeed, it was she apparently who persuaded him to spend the winter in Majorca in 1838 in an attempt to relieve his consumption, the tuberculosis that would kill him in 1849. George Sand’s account of her journey in A Winter In Majorca never actually names the man on whose behalf she made the trip, not once! And yet her fame now largely rests on the relationship, and perhaps the most well-known element remains those eight weeks or so that they stayed on the island.
In her account, George Sand soon makes clear how sophisticated person she is, and how already well travelled she feels. After all, she has lived in Paris, has set foot in Switzerland, and has even been to Venice. But, already estranged from her husband, living with her lover out of wedlock, and accompanied by her two children and a maid, she apparently strode onto the island of Majorca expecting it collectively to kowtow to her presence. When it did not, she appeared to become somewhat miffed. She regularly describes the locals as monkeys, thieves, liars, and cheats, despises the food she is given, and thinks she is in Africa, or even Polynesia. Her account is neither reflective nor tolerant. It is, assuredly, bigoted.
If travel is to be at all mind-broadening, the traveller must not jump to comparisons. Taking places as they are, and experiencing their reality is an essential tactic. Comparisons keep returning the traveller to where they came from and precludes direct experience. A second essential element, and one that contemporary travellers rarely do, is understand local mores and cultures, so that no offense is caused, offence that would isolate the traveller from participation in local life. Both of these prerequisites were noticeably absent from the approach George Sand pursued in Majorca. Constant references to back home, and ‘the way we do things in France’, coupled with the unmarried state and illness of the couple, both of which offended local mores, conspired to render the trip disastrous from all points of view. Reading George Sand’s account, one can readily appreciate why.
The translation by Robert Graves, points out how often George Sand was inaccurate. It is a word that is kind to her approach. Her own memoir from some years later says much about her relationship with Chopin and criticism of Sand’s account by Quadrado is as vitriolic as she deserved.
Interesting, isn’t it, that this short sojourn, over a century and a half ago still captivates, and still fuels a veritable tourist industry Valldemossa, despite its utterly disastrous nature.
Though her novels may not now be widely read, George Sand is etched in the minds of many music lovers as the person with whom Frederick Chopin lived for several years. Indeed, it was she apparently who persuaded him to spend the winter in Majorca in 1838 in an attempt to relieve his consumption, the tuberculosis that would kill him in 1849. George Sand’s account of her journey in A Winter In Majorca never actually names the man on whose behalf she made the trip, not once! And yet her fame now largely rests on the relationship, and perhaps the most well-known element remains those eight weeks or so that they stayed on the island.
In her account, George Sand soon makes clear how sophisticated person she is, and how already well travelled she feels. After all, she has lived in Paris, has set foot in Switzerland, and has even been to Venice. But, already estranged from her husband, living with her lover out of wedlock, and accompanied by her two children and a maid, she apparently strode onto the island of Majorca expecting it collectively to kowtow to her presence. When it did not, she appeared to become somewhat miffed. She regularly describes the locals as monkeys, thieves, liars, and cheats, despises the food she is given, and thinks she is in Africa, or even Polynesia. Her account is neither reflective nor tolerant. It is, assuredly, bigoted.
If travel is to be at all mind-broadening, the traveller must not jump to comparisons. Taking places as they are, and experiencing their reality is an essential tactic. Comparisons keep returning the traveller to where they came from and precludes direct experience. A second essential element, and one that contemporary travellers rarely do, is understand local mores and cultures, so that no offense is caused, offence that would isolate the traveller from participation in local life. Both of these prerequisites were noticeably absent from the approach George Sand pursued in Majorca. Constant references to back home, and ‘the way we do things in France’, coupled with the unmarried state and illness of the couple, both of which offended local mores, conspired to render the trip disastrous from all points of view. Reading George Sand’s account, one can readily appreciate why.
The translation by Robert Graves, points out how often George Sand was inaccurate. It is a word that is kind to her approach. Her own memoir from some years later says much about her relationship with Chopin and criticism of Sand’s account by Quadrado is as vitriolic as she deserved.
Interesting, isn’t it, that this short sojourn, over a century and a half ago still captivates, and still fuels a veritable tourist industry Valldemossa, despite its utterly disastrous nature.
July 21, 2020
Enfin je termine ce petit livre dont j'ai fait traîner la lecture sur presque un mois !
Bon, tout d'abord : mauvaise idée que de commencer une découverte de l'oeuvre de George Sand avec ce livre. Ce récit de voyage, certes embelli par certains passages romancés, ne doit sûrement pas être représentatif de l'oeuvre de l'autrice.
Ensuite, il faut garder en tête que c'est un récit de voyage ancré dans son temps et que certaines opinions de l'autrice peuvent choquer aujourd'hui (notamment sa façon de dénigrer les majorquins qui nous parait assez raciste). Qui dit récit de voyage dit aussi descriptions (assez ennuyeuses tout compte fait) de la flore et de la faune locale, de leurs croyances politiques et religieuses, et de tout un tas de choses qui n'existent sans doute plus aujourd'hui - mis à part sans doute le paysage.
Et parmi tout ça il y a quelques récits d'excursions, romancées sans doute, souvent reflétant le caractère romantique de George Sand et d'un style impeccable... et qui donnent envie de lire ses romans !
J'ai fini par lire le commentaire de l'oeuvre, à la fin du livre, pour m'éclairer un peu et je conseille à tous de le lire. Il permet vraiment de restituer l'oeuvre dans son temps et mieux comprendre certaines choses.
Je n'ai pas adoré, mais je n'ai pas détesté. Certains passages m'ont beaucoup plu, certaines "aventures" de George et de sa famille aussi, mais ces anecdotes ont été noyées sous un flot d'informations descriptives de Palma de Majorque qui ne sont plus de notre temps et du coup... ça ne m'a guère intéressé.
Bon, tout d'abord : mauvaise idée que de commencer une découverte de l'oeuvre de George Sand avec ce livre. Ce récit de voyage, certes embelli par certains passages romancés, ne doit sûrement pas être représentatif de l'oeuvre de l'autrice.
Ensuite, il faut garder en tête que c'est un récit de voyage ancré dans son temps et que certaines opinions de l'autrice peuvent choquer aujourd'hui (notamment sa façon de dénigrer les majorquins qui nous parait assez raciste). Qui dit récit de voyage dit aussi descriptions (assez ennuyeuses tout compte fait) de la flore et de la faune locale, de leurs croyances politiques et religieuses, et de tout un tas de choses qui n'existent sans doute plus aujourd'hui - mis à part sans doute le paysage.
Et parmi tout ça il y a quelques récits d'excursions, romancées sans doute, souvent reflétant le caractère romantique de George Sand et d'un style impeccable... et qui donnent envie de lire ses romans !
J'ai fini par lire le commentaire de l'oeuvre, à la fin du livre, pour m'éclairer un peu et je conseille à tous de le lire. Il permet vraiment de restituer l'oeuvre dans son temps et mieux comprendre certaines choses.
Je n'ai pas adoré, mais je n'ai pas détesté. Certains passages m'ont beaucoup plu, certaines "aventures" de George et de sa famille aussi, mais ces anecdotes ont été noyées sous un flot d'informations descriptives de Palma de Majorque qui ne sont plus de notre temps et du coup... ça ne m'a guère intéressé.
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