we are disgusted with brutal literature.  We are gradually coming back to a better comprehension of what there is of “truth” in George Sand’s conception of the novel.  This may be summed up in a few words—­to charm, to touch and to console.  Those of us who know something of life may perhaps wonder whether to console may not be the final aim of literature.  George Sand’s literary ideal may be read in the following words, which she wrote to Flaubert: 

“You make the people who read your books still sadder than they were before.  I want to make them less unhappy.”  She tried to do this, and she often succeeded in her attempt.  What greater praise can we give to her than that?  And how can we help adding a little gratitude and affection to our admiration for the woman who was the good fairy of the contemporary novel?

THE END