was in no way a
tyrant, as of being the slave of a given situation from which he could
not set her free. The total lack of ready money was felt by her
to constitute in our altogether factitious society an intolerable
situation, frightful misery or absolute powerlessness. What she missed
was some means of which she might dispose, without compunction and
uncontrolled, for an artistic treat, a beautiful book, a week's
travelling, a present to a poor friend, a charity to a deserving person,
and such like trifles, which, although not indispensable, make life
pleasant. "Irresponsibility is a state of servitude; it is something
like the disgrace of the interdict." But servitude and disgrace are
galling yokes, and it was not likely that so strong a character would
long and meekly submit to them. We have, however, not yet exhausted the
grievances of Madame Dudevant. Her brother Hippolyte, after mismanaging
his own property, came and lived for the sake of economy at Nohant. His
intemperance and that of a friend proved contagious to her husband, and
the consequence was not only much rioting till late into the night,
but occasionally also filthy conversations. She began, therefore, to
consider how the requisite means might be obtained--which would enable
her to get away from such undesirable surroundings, and to withdraw her
children from these evil influences. For four years she endeavoured
to discover an employment by which she could gain her livelihood. A
milliner's business was out of the question without capital to begin
with; by needlework no more than ten sous a day could be earned; she was
too conscientious to make translation pay; her crayon and water-colour
portraits were pretty good likenesses, but lacked originality; and in
the painting of flowers and birds on cigar-cases, work-boxes, fans,
&c., which promised to be more successful, she was soon discouraged by a
change of fashion.

At last Madame Dudevant made up her mind to go to Paris and try her luck
in literature. She had no ambition whatever, and merely hoped to be able
to eke out in this way her slender resources. As regards the capital
of knowledge she was possessed of she wrote: "I had read history and
novels; I had deciphered scores; I had thrown an inattentive eye over
the newspapers....Monsieur Neraud [the Malgache of the "Lettres d'un
Voyageur"] had tried to teach me botany. According to the "Histoire de
ma Vie" this new departure was brought about by an am