Every one knows the story of the name: how she and Jules Sandeau wrote a
novel together, and sought a _nom de plume_ which should represent their
literary union,--how soon she found that she could do much better alone,
and the weak work of Carl Sand was forgotten in the strong personality
of George Sand. Of Jules Sandeau she speaks only as of the associate of
a literary enterprise;--the world accords him a much nearer relation to
her; but upon this point she cannot, naturally, be either explicit or
implicit. One thing is certain: she was a hard worker, and did with
her might what her hand found to do. She wrote "Indiana," "Lelia,"
"Valentine," and had fame and money at will. Neither, however, gave
her unmixed pleasure. The _eclat_ of her reputation soon destroyed her
_incognito_, while the sums of money she was supposed to receive for her
works attracted to her innumerable beggars and adventurers of all
sorts. To ascertain the real wants and character of those who in every
imaginable way claimed her assistance became one of the added labors of
her life. She visited wretched garrets or cellars, and saw miserable
families,--discovering often, too late, that both garret and family had
been hired for the occasion.
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