In all this we are passing from the second element in George Sand to the third,—­her aspiration for a social new-birth, a renaissance sociale.  It is eminently the ideal of France; it was hers.  Her religion connected itself with this ideal.  In the convent where she was brought up, she had in youth had an awakening of fervent mystical piety in the Catholic form.  That form she could not keep.  Popular religion of all kinds, with its deep internal impossibilities, its “heaven and hell serving to cover the illogical manifestations of the Divinity’s apparent designs respecting us,” its “God made in our image, silly and malicious, vain and puerile, irritable or tender, after our fashion,” lost all sort of hold upon her:—­

“Communion with such a God is impossible to me, I confess it.  He is wiped out from my memory:  there is no corner where I can find him any more.  Nor do I find such a God out of doors either; he is not in the fields and waters, he is not in the starry sky.  No, nor yet in the churches where men bow themselves; it is an extinct message, a dead letter, a thought that has done its day.  Nothing of this belief, nothing of this God, subsists in me any longer."[326]

She refused to lament over the loss, to esteem it other than a benefit:—­

“It is an addition to our stock of light, this detachment from the idolatrous conception of religion.  It is no loss of the religious sense, as the persisters in idolatry maintain.  It is quite the contrary, it is a restitution of allegiance to the true Divinity.  It is a step made in the direction of this Divinity, it is an abjuration of the dogmas which did him dishonor."[327]

She does not attempt to give of this Divinity an account much more precise than that which we have in Wordsworth,—­“a presence that disturbs me with the joy of animating thoughts."[328]

“Everything is divine (she says), even matter; everything is superhuman, even man.  God is everywhere; he is in me in a measure proportioned to the little that I am.  My present life separates me from him just in the degree determined by the actual state of childhood of our race.  Let me content myself, in all my seeking, to feel after him, and to possess of him as much as this imperfect soul can take in with the intellectual sense I have."[329]

And she concludes:—­

“The day will come when we shall no longer talk about God idly, nay, when we shall talk about him as little as possible.  We shall cease to set him forth dogmatically, to dispute about his nature.  We shall put compulsion on no one to pray to him, we shall leave the whole business of worship within the sanctuary of each man’s conscience.  And this will happen when we are really religious."[330]

Meanwhile the sense of this spirit or presence which animates us, the sense of the divine, is our stronghold and our consolation.  A man may say of it:  “It comes not by my desert, but the atom of divine sense given to me nothing can rob me of.” Divine sense,—­the phrase is a vague one; but it stands to Madame Sand for that to which are to be referred “all the best thoughts and the best actions of life, suffering endured, duty achieved, whatever purifies our existence, whatever vivifies our love.”