These selections from George Sand's journals form an integrated whole and show Sand as a woman, lover, mother, artist, politician, chatelaine, and friend. Sand's journal writing is thought by many to be her most expressive and natural; here the artist's most complex and interesting character is revealed: George Sand herself.
Amantine 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.
Heine has devilishly pleasant words. He said this evening, speaking of Alfred de Musset: "He is a young man with a lot of past." Heine says some very biting things and his protrusions win the day. He believed to be fundamentally wicked, but nothing is further from the truth; his heart is as good as his tongue is terrible. It is tender, affectionate, devoted, romantic in love, weak even, and able to endure the absolute domination. With that, he is cynical, mocking, optimistic, materialistic in words, to frighten, to scandalize anyone who does not know his inner life and the secret of his household. He is like his poems, a mixture of the highest sentimentality and the most buffoonish mockery.
Demasiado excitada para me contentar com o que me oferecia a vida real, demasiado ousada ou demasiado lúcida para me render ao encanto das crenças supersticiosas, debatia-se dolorosamente. Eu agia em conformidade com as ilusões do meu cérebro, com os impulsos do meu coração.
Sinto sempre alguma reserva ao pegar em correspondência e diários publicados depois da morte dos seus autores, e no caso do “Diário Íntimo” de George Sand, essa reserva estende-se a uma classificação com estrelas. Não sinto que seja justo avaliar uma obra que não estava destinada à publicação, mas que se trata somente um desabafo e um apanhado de apontamentos pessoais. Tentarei, por isso, não ser muito crítica em relação ao conteúdo, focando-me mais no estilo que é típico do Romantismo, desde as referências empoladas à Natureza até à invocação constante de Deus e Jesus Cristo, passando, obviamente, pelas paixões assolapadas que levam à prostração e ao desejo de morrer.
Que fogo é estre que me devora as entranhas? Parece-me existir um vulcão em actividade dentro de mim; a qualquer momento expelirei lava como uma cratera. Ó Deus, tende piedade deste ser que tanto sofre! Por que morrem os outros? Por que não sucumbo eu sob o peso das minhas penas?
Apesar de toda esta dor exacerbada e ânsia amorosa, a verdade é que George Sand viveu até aos 72 anos, teve dois filhos, vários netos, publicou inúmeras obras, todas elas registadas no Índice Expurgatório do Santo Ofício e passou por vários relacionamentos duradouros. Em relação à estrutura do livro, custa-me dizer que só gostei de uma adenda da autora 19 anos depois de ter iniciado o seu diário...
Estava apaixonada por este livro, queria escrever coisas bonitas. E só escrevi disparates. Hoje em dia, parece-me tudo demasiado enfático. (...) Parece-me que todos os dias mudamos um pouco, e de repente, ao fim de alguns anos, transformamo-nos num novo ser.
...e da parte da cronologia que, evidentemente, não é da sua autoria, visto que George Sand teve uma vida verdadeiramente fascinante, tendo privado com figuras como Chopin, Liszt, Turgueniev e Flaubert, e tendo um privilégio raro na altura, o de ter a independência financeira que lhe permitiu deixar o marido e ter os homens que bem entendeu.
«Έχω εισχωρήσει στο σύμπαν. Δε μ’ ενδιαφέρει τίποτα, αφού μπορώ ν’ αντέξω τη δυστυχία της ζωής μου και να γευθώ το καλό. Μακάρι ό,τι αγαπώ να διαερκέσει πιο πολύ από μένα!»
Σοβαρά δεσμευμένη πλέον με τις επιστολές, συναντήθηκα με το Ημερολόγιο της καρδιάς της Σάνδη. Το «αποσπάσματα από προσωπικές αναμνήσεις» το 1833 είναι πλαισιωμένο με αόρατα φιλοσοφικά στοιχεία. Δεν το βρήκα μαγνητικό, αλλά ευτυχώς δεν άργησα να εντοπίσω τις αλλαγές που φέρουν οι επιστολές της Σάνδη. Σε κάποιες συνομιλεί με τους εραστές, άλλες με τον εαυτό της, σε κάποιες με φίλους. Ο τόνος της αλλάζει, το περιεχόμενο επίσης· αυτό που κυριεύει όλες τις σελίδες, απ’ άκρη σ’ άκρη, είναι σίγουρα το βάθος της καρδιάς όλο εμφατικά στοιχεία και τα ευγενή αισθήματα.
Η σχέση της με τον Μυσσέ μου φάνηκε ανυπόφορη. Για την ακρίβεια, όταν είχα διαβάσει το «Οι δυο ερωμένες και άλλες νουβέλες» του ίδιου, είχα νιώσει συνεπαρμένη και σχεδόν λυπήθηκα που δεν θα τον γνώριζα ποτέ. Φαίνεται και τόσο γοητευτικός, εάν και σίγουρα θα είχαν πάρει τα μυαλό του αέρα, είναι εμφανές. Η Σάνδη μεταφέρει πως ο Χάινε είπε για τον Μυσσέ: «Είναι ένας νέος με πολύ παρελθόν». Βέβαια και η Σάνδη ήταν πολύ πιο απασχολημένη – καλά έκανε. Σχεδόν χάνω το μέτρημα με τους εραστές και με απογοητεύει το πόσο έντονα τα νιώθει όλα, για όλους. Αυτή η επιπολαιότητα της φαίνεται να την έκανε και γενναιόδωρη, εάν και βιαστική στις αποφάσεις της. Η ίντριγκα δεν φαίνεται να ξεκουράζεται. Περισσότερο μου άρεσαν οι επιστολές που απευθύνονταν στον Παγκέλλο και αυτές στον εαυτό της: «Καθημερινές συζητήσεις με τον πολυμαθή κι έμπειρο Δρ. Πιφφέλ». Με κούρασαν οι αναφορές στη φύση και στον χριστιανισμό, όπως και αυτές στην αυτοχειρία. Ούτε ο ρομαντισμός ξεκουράστηκε, αλλά έπρεπε να το περιμένω αυτό.
Ίσως τα λαμπρότερα κομμάτια να μην αφορούν την καρδιά, εάν τολμήσω να ισχυριστώ κάτι τέτοιο: (σελ. 102) μια υπέροχη ανάλυση για την εκπαίδευση και (σελ. 105) σκέψεις για τα νωθρά και δυσκίνητα μυαλά που προσπαθούν να κρατήσουν τον κόσμο δέσμιο του παρελθόντος).
Τέλος, επιτέλους κάποια/ος που βάζει τον Φλωμπέρ στη θέση του, πολύ το απόλαυσα (και ο Φλωμπέρ επίσης!):
«Ο αναγνώστης επιθυμεί πρώτα απ’ όλα να εισχωρήσει στη σκέψη μας, κι αυτό εσύ του το αρνείσαι υπεροπτικά. Τον κάνεις να πιστέψει πως τον περιφρονείς, πως θέλεις να το περιπαίξεις. Εγώ σε κατανόησα επειδή σε γνωρίζω. Αν μου είχανε φέρει το βιβλίο σου ανυπόγραφο, θα μου είχε φανεί καλό αλλά παράδοξο και θα αναρωτιόμουν αν είσαι αμοραλιστής, σκεπτικιστής, αδιάφορος ή βαθύτατα απογοητευμένος.»
Depois de ler a biografia da George Sand pela Rosa Montero, de que gostei muito, fiquei com vontade de ler o Diário. Mas confesso que não passei da página 64... É muita depressão, muita infelicidade, muita dúvida existencial... Decididamente, não é o meu género.
George Sand foi uma figura que sempre me fascinou, pela sua coragem de ir contra as regras impostas as mulheres á epoca. Por isso estava muito curiosa em ler este seu diario intimo. Fiquei um pouco desiludida, mas o que se poderia esperar de um diario? um diario é algo que escrevemos para nós proprios normalmente nas alturas de maior angustia. E foi esse o problema que tive com este livro. Sand deprimida, angustiada e suicica, a sofrer pelo fim do seu romace com alfred de musset não me interessa. prefiro a imagem de força.
Contudo nem tudo foi mau. Gostei particularmente da descrição de veneza logo no inicio, que me fez pensar que uma cidade pode ser completamente diferente atraves do olhar e estilo de dois escritores diferentes. e gostei das ultimas paginas do diario em que uma sand mais velha analisa as coisas escritas na juventude
I expected not to be a fan of this at all, but there were a few sections that I thought profound. Mostly it's pathetic, melodramatic drivel, but I've decided I really like her. I came out of this book feeling like she was a very generous and charitable person who was much too rash in her decision-making and was always attracted to the wrong man. I might add that I did not read a thing which would have in any way contributed to the idea of her being a lesbian.
Sand's great grandfather Claude Dupin bought Chateau de Chenonceau (originally a mill) for Sand's great step grandmother Madame Louise Dupin (Louise Marie Madeleine Fontaine). She wrote extensively (though never published) about equality of women, their rights to work outside the home and education.
L. Dupin’s private secretary and son's tutor was JJ Rousseau as young man.
Perhaps it's because I read this over a long period of time, in distracted bursts, but this seemed awfully convoluted, even for Sand, whose work is often characterized by strangely complicated plots. A novel of courtly intrigue taken to extremes, also interested in gendered power dynamics and moral standards. Lots of bizarre devices deployed to connect the dots. A very peculiar book.
« Je suis bien aise de cette rencontre. Il est affreux de s’en vouloir quand on s’est aimé. Bien ou mal, on s’est aimé. Ah, Dieu, qu’est-ce donc que l’amour pour changer ainsi de nature, et pour entrer dans l’âme, sous une forme si divine, avec un objet nouveau ? »
Cet extrait de journal est magnifique et très intense. Incroyable !