“Of all the troubles I had not to endure but to contend against, the sufferings of my malade ordinaire were not the least,” says George Sand.  “Chopin always wished for Nohant, and never could bear it.”  And, speaking of the later years, when the havoc made in Chopin’s constitution by the inroads of his malady showed itself more and more, she remarks:  “Nohant had become repugnant to him.  His return in the spring still filled him with ecstatic joy for a short time.  But as soon as he began to work everything round him assumed a gloomy aspect.”

Before we peep into Chopin’s room and watch him at work, let us see what the chateau of Nohant and life there were like.  “The railway through the centre of France went in those days [August, 1846] no further than Vierzon,” [Footnote:  The opening of the extension of the line to Chateauroux was daily expected at that time.] writes Mr. Matthew Arnold in an account of a visit paid by him to George Sand:—­

From Vierzon to Chateauroux one travelled by an ordinary diligence, from Chateauroux to La Chatre by a humbler diligence, from La Chatre to Broussac by the humblest diligence cf. all.  At Broussac diligence ended, and PATACHE began.  Between Chateauroux and La Chatre, a mile or two before reaching the latter place, the road passes by the village of Nohant.  The chateau of Nohant, in which Madame Sand lived, is a plain house by the roadside, with a walled garden.  Down in the meadows not far off flows the Indre, bordered by trees.

The Chateau of Nohant is indeed, as Mr. Matthew Arnold says, a plain house, only the roof with its irregularly distributed dormars and chimney-stacks of various size giving to it a touch of picturesqueness.  On the other hand, the ground-floor, with its central door flanked on each side by three windows, and the seven windowed story above, impresses one with the sense of spaciousness.

Liszt, speaking of a three months’ stay at Nohant made by himself and his friend the Comtesse d’Agoult in the summer of 1837—­i.e., before the closer connection of George Sand and Chopin began—­ relates that the hostess and her guests spent the days in reading good books, receiving letters from absent friends, taking long walks on the banks of the Indre, and in other equally simple occupations and amusements.  In the evenings they assembled on the terrace.  There, where the light of the lamps cast fantastic shadows on the neighbouring trees, they sat listening to the murmuring of the river and the warbling of the nightingales, and breathing in the sweet perfume of the lime-trees and the stronger scent of the larches till the Countess would exclaim:  “There you are again dreaming, you incorrigible artists!  Do you not know that the hour for working has come?” And then George Sand would go and write at the book on which she was engaged, and Liszt would betake himself to the old scores which he was studying with a view to discover some of the great masters’ secrets. [Footnote:  Liszt.  “Essays and Reisebriefe eines Baccalaureus der Tonkunst.”  Vol.  II., pp. 146 and 147 of the collected works.]