Certainly, on comparing the Correspondance with the Histoire de ma vie, the difference of tone is most striking.  The letters in which Baronne Dudevant tells, day by day, of her home life are too enthusiastic for the letters of an unhappy wife.  There are receptions at Nohant, lively dinners, singing and dancing.  All this is, at any rate, the surface, but gradually the misunderstandings are more pronounced, and the gulf widens.

There may have been a misunderstanding at the very beginning of their married life, and Aurore may have had a surprise of the nature of the one to which Jane de Simerose confesses in L’Ami des femmes.  In an unpublished letter written much later on, in the year 1843, from George Sand to her half-brother Hippolyte Chatiron on the occasion of his daughter’s engagement, the following lines occur:  “See that your son-in-law is not brutal to your daughter the first night of their marriage. . . .  Men have no idea that this amusement of theirs is a martyrdom for us.  Tell him to sacrifice his own pleasure a little, and to wait until he has taught his wife gradually to understand things and to be willing.  There is nothing so frightful as the horror, the suffering and the disgust of a poor girl who knows nothing and who is suddenly violated by a brute.  We bring girls up as much as possible like saints, and then we hand them over like fillies.  If your son-in-law is an intelligent man and if he really loves your daughter, he will understand his role, and will not take it amiss that you should speak to him beforehand."(2)

     (2) Communicated by M. S. Rocheblave.

Is George Sand recalling here any hidden and painful memories?  Casimir had, at bottom, a certain brutality, which, later on, was very evident.  The question is whether he had shown proofs of it at a time when it would have been wiser to have refrained.

However that may be, the fundamental disagreement of their natures was not long in making itself felt between the husband and wife.  He was matter-of-fact, and she was romantic; he only believed in facts, and she in ideas; he was of the earth, earthy, whilst she aspired to the impossible.  They had nothing to say to each other, and when two people have nothing to say, and love does not fill up the silences, what torture the daily tete-a-tete must be.  Before they had been married two years, they were bored to death.  They blamed Nohant, but the fault was in themselves.  Nohant seemed unbearable to them, simply because they were there alone with each other.  They went to Plessis, perhaps in the hope that the remembrance of the days of their engagement might have some effect on them.  It was there, in 1824, that the famous scene of the blow took place.  They were playing at a regular children’s game in the park, and throwing sand at each other.  Casimir lost his patience and struck his wife.  It was certainly impolite, but Aurore did not appear to have been very indignant with her husband at the time.  Her grievances were quite of another kind, less tangible and much more deeply felt.