CCXLVII. TO GEORGE SAND
12 December 1872
Dear good master,
Don't take seriously the exaggerations about my IRE. Don't believe
that I am counting "on posterity, to avenge me for the indifference
of my contemporaries." I meant to say only this: if one does not
address the crowd, it is right that the crowd should not pay one. It
is political economy. But, I maintain that a work of art (worthy of
that name and conscientiously done) is beyond appraisal, has no
commercial value, cannot be paid for. Conclusion: if the artist has
no income, he must starve! They think that the writer, because he no
longer receives a pension from the great, is very much freer, and
nobler. All his social nobility now consists in being the equal of a
grocer. What progress! As for me, you say to me "Let us be logical";
but that's just the difficulty.
I am not sure at all of writing good things, nor that the book of
which I am dreaming now can be well done, which does not prevent me
from undertaking it. I think that the idea of it is original,
nothing more. And then, as I hope to spit into it the gall that is
choking me, that is to say, to emit some truths, I hope by this
means to PURGE MYSELF, and to be henceforward more Olympian, a
quality that I lack entirely. Ah! how I should like to admire
myself!
Mourning once more: I headed the procession at the burial of father
Pouchet last Monday. That gentle fellow's life was very beautiful,
and I mourned him.
I enter today upon my fifty-second year, and I insist on embracing
you today: I do it affectionately, since you love me so well.
CCXLVIII. TO GUSTAVE FLAUBERT
Nohant, 8 January, 1873
Yes, yes, my old friend, you must come to see me. I am not thinking
of going to Paris before the end of the winter, and it is so hard to
see people in Paris. Bring me Saint-Antoine. I want to hear it, I
want to live in it with you. I want to embrace you with all my soul,
and Maurice does too.
Lina loves you too, and our little ones have not forgotten you. I
want you to see how interesting and lovely my Aurore has become. I
shall not tell you anything new about myself. I live so little in
myself. This will be a good reason for you to talk about what
interests me more, that is to say, about yourself. Tell me ahead so
that I can spare you that horrid coach from Chateauroux to Nohant.
If you could bring Tourgueneff, we should be happy, and you would
have the most perfect travelling companion. Have you read Peres et
Enfants? How good it is!
Now, I hope for you really this time, and I think that our air will
do you good. It is so lovely here!
Your old comrade who loves you,