criticisms on my writings. For years I have found this abstinence necessary
to preserve me from that discouragement as an artist which ill-judged
praise, no less than ill-judged blame, tends to produce in me. For far
worse than any verdict as to the proportion of good and evil in our work,
is the painful impression that we write for a public which has no
discernment of good and evil.
My husband reads any notices of me that come before him, and reports to me
(or else refrains from reporting) the general character of the notice, or
something in particular which strikes him as showing either an exceptional
insight or an obtuseness that is gross enough to be amusing. Very rarely,
when he has read a critique of me, he has handed it to me, saying, "_You_
must read this." And your estimate of _Daniel Deronda_ made one of these
rare instances.
Certainly, if I had been asked to choose _what_ should be written about my
book and _who_ should write it, I should have sketched--well, not anything
so good as what you have written, but an article which must be written by a
Jew who showed not merely sympathy with the best aspirations of his race,
but a remarkable insight into the nature of art and the processes of the
artistic mind. Believe me, I should not have cared to devour even ardent
praise if it had not come from one who showed the discriminating
sensibility, the perfect response to the artist's intention, which must
make the fullest, rarest joy to one who works from inward conviction and
not in compliance with current fashions. Such a response holds for an
author not only what is best in "the life that now is," but the promise of
"that which is to come." I mean that the usual approximative, narrow
perception of what one has been intending and professedly feeling in one's
work, impresses one with the sense that it must be poor perishable stuff
without roots to hike any lasting hold in the minds of men; while any
instance of complete comprehension encourages one to hope that the creative
prompting has foreshadowed, and will continue to satisfy, a need in other
minds.
Excuse me that I write but imperfectly, and perhaps dimly, what I have felt
in reading your article. It has affected me deeply, and though the
prejudice and ignorant obtuseness which has met my effort to contribute
something to the ennobling of Judaism in the conception of the Christian
community and in the consciousness of the Jewish community, has never for a
moment made me repent my choice, but rather has been added proof to me that
the effort has been needed,--yet I confess that I had an unsatisfied hanger
for certain signs of sympathetic discernment, which you only have given. I
may mention as one instance your clear perception of the relation between
the presentation of the Jewish element and those of English social life.
I work under the pressure of small hurries; for we are just moving into the
country for the summer, and all things are in a vagrant condition around
me. But I wished not to defer answering your letter to an uncertain
opportunity....
My husband has said more than once that he feels grateful to you. For he is
more sensitive on my behalf than on his own.
Hence he unites with me in the assurance of the high regard with which I
remain
Always yours faithfully,
M.E. LEWES.
This first letter was followed a few months later by a second.
THE PRIORY, 21 NORTH BANK, REGENT'S PAKE,
Oct. 12, '77.
MY DEAR SIR,--I trust it will not be otherwise than gratifying to you to
know that your stirring article on _Daniel Deronda_ is now translated into
English by a son of Prof. Ferrier, who was a philosophical writer of
considerable mark. It will be issued in a handsomer form than that of the
pamphlet, and will appear within this autumnal publishing season, Messrs.
Blackwood having already advertised it. Whenever a copy is ready we shall
have the pleasure of sending it to you. There is often something to be
borne with in reading one's own writing in a translation, but I hope that
in this case you will not be made to wince severely.
In waiting to send you this news I seem to have deferred too long the
expression of my warm thanks for your kindness in sending me the Hebrew
translations of Leasing and the collection of Hebrew poems, a kindness
which I felt myself rather presumptuous in asking for, since your time must
be well filled with more important demands. Yet I must further beg you,
when you have an opportunity, to assure Herr Bacher that I was most
gratefully touched by the sympathetic verses with which he enriched the
gift of his work.
I see by your last letter to my husband that your Theological Seminary was
to open on the 4th of this month, so that this too retrospective letter of
mine will reach you in the midst of your new duties. I trust that this new
institution will be a great good to professor and students, and that your
position is of a kind that you contemplate as permanent. To teach the young
personally has always seemed to me the most satisfactory supplement to
teaching the world through books, and I have often wished that I had such a
means of having fresh, living, spiritual children within sight.
One can hardly turn one's thought toward Eastern Europe just now without a
mingling of pain and dread; but we mass together distant scenes and events
in an unreal way, and one would like to believe that the present troubles
will not at any time press on you in Hungary with more external misfortune
than on us in England.
Mr. Lewes is happily occupied in his psychological studies. We both look,
forward to the reception of the work you kindly promised us, and he begs me
to offer you his best regards.
Believe me, my dear sir,
Yours with much esteem,
M.E. LEWES.
It was a part of George Eliot's purpose in _Daniel Deronda_ to criticise
the social life of England in the spirit in which she had criticised it in
_Middlemarch_, as being deficient in spiritual power, moral purpose and
noble sentiment. If she made it clear in _Middlemarch_ that the individual
is crippled and betrayed by society, it was her purpose to make it quite as
clear in _Daniel Deronda_ how society may become the true inspirer of the
individual. We may quarrel with her theory of the origin and nature of the
spiritual life in man, but she has somewhat truly conceived its vast
importance and shown the character of that influence it everywhere has over
man's life. As types of spiritual lifts, and as individual conceptions of
human character, the personages of this novel are drawn with marvellous
skill. Mr. E.P. Whipple says that Daniel Deronda is "one of the noblest
and most original characters among the heroes imagined by poets, dramatists
and novelists." With equal or even greater justice can it be said that
Gwendolen Harleth is one of the most powerful and grandly conceived of
imaginary creations in all literature. In the characters, the situations,
and the whole working out of this novel, George Eliot shows herself one of
the great masters of literary creation.
When the prejudices aroused by the Jewish element in it are allayed, and
_Daniel Deronda_ is read as a work of literary genius, it will be found not
to be the least interesting and important of George Eliot's books. It has
the religious interest and inspiration of _Adam Bede_, the historic value
of _Romola_, and the critical elements of _Middlemarch_; and these are
wrought into a work of lofty insight and imagination, along with a high
spiritual ardor and a supreme ethical purpose. In this novel, for the first
time, as Professor Dowden says, her poetical genius found adequate
expression, and in complete association with the non-poetical elements of
her nature.
XVII.
THE SPANISH GYPSY AND OTHER POEMS.
It was _The Spanish Gypsy_, published in 1868, which brought the name of
George Eliot before the public as a poet. This work is a novel written in
blank verse, with enough of the heroic and tragic in it to make the story
worthy of its poetic form. The story is an excellent one, well conceived
and worked out, and had it been given the prose form would have made a
powerful and original novel. While it would doubtless have gained in
definiteness of detail and clearness of purpose by being presented in the
prose form, yet its condensation into a poem is a gain, and the whole
setting of the story has been made of greater interest by this method of
expression. The poetic form is as original as are the theories of life
which the poem is designed to inculcate. In structure it combines, with a
method quite its own, the descriptive and dramatic forms of poetry. In this
it nearly approaches the method followed in her novels of combining
description and dialogue in a unitary structure of great strength and
perfection. The descriptive passages in her prose works are strong and
impressive, lofty in tone, and yet lovingly faithful in detail. Her
conversations are often highly dramatic and add greatly to the whole
outcome of these novels. In _The Spanish Gypsy_ the surroundings of the
story are first described in verse which, if not always perfectly poetic,
is yet imaginatively thought out and executed in a manner befitting the
subject. Suddenly, however, the narrative and descriptive form ceases and
the dramatic begins. By means also of full "stage directions" to the
dramatic portions of the poem, the story is wrought out quite as much in
detail as it needs to be; and much is gained of advantage over the length
of her novels by this concentration of scene and narrative. While the
narrative portion of the poem is much less in extent than the dramatic, yet
it has in it some of the main elements of the plot, and those without which
the action could not be worked out. The dramatic element gives it a real
and living power. The characters are strongly conceived, and nearly all of
them are individualities of an original type and of an action thoroughly
distinct and human.
As a work of art, the most serious defect in _The Spanish Gypsy_ is its
doctrinal tone. It is speculative in its purpose quite as much as poetical,
and the speculation is so large an element as to intrude upon the poetry.
Thought overtops imagination, the fervor and enthusiasm of the poet are
more than matched by the ethical aims of the teacher. This ethical purpose
of unfolding in a dramatic form the author's theories of life has filled
the book, as it has her novels, with epigrams which are original, splendid
and instructive. Into a few lines she condenses some piece of wisdom, and
in words full of meaning and purpose. Into the mouth of Sephardo, a
character distinctive and noteworthy, she puts some of her choicest wisdom.
He says,--
Thought
Has joys apart, even in blackest woe,
And seizing some fine thread of verity
Knows momentary godhead.
Again he utters the same idea, but in more expressive words.
Our growing thought
Makes growing revelation.
Don Silva is made to use this highly poetic imagery.
Speech is but broken light upon the depth
Of the unspoken.
Zarca, that truest and most original character in the poem, says of the
great work he purposes to accomplish,
To my inward vision
Things are achieved when they are well begun.
Again, he says,--
New thoughts are urgent as the growth of wings.
Expressive and original as _The Spanish Gypsy_ is, yet it gives the
impression of lacking in some poetic quality which is necessary to the
highest results. Difficult as it may be to define precisely what it is that
is wanting, nearly every reader will feel that something which makes poetry
has been somehow left out. Is it imagination, or is it a flexible poetic
expression, which is absent? While George Eliot has imagination enough to
make a charming prose style, and to adorn her prose with great beauty and
an impressive manner, yet its finer quality of subtle expression is not to
be found in her poetry. Those original and striking shades of meaning which
the poet employs by using words in unique relations, she does not often
attain to. It is the thought, the ethical meaning, in her poetry as in her
prose, which is often of more importance than the manner of expression; and
she is too intent on what is said to give full heed always to how it is
said. She has, however, employed that form of verse which is best suited to
her style, and one which does not demand those lyrical or those imaginative
qualities in which she is deficient. The blank verse is well adapted to her
realism, though it does not always answer well to the more dramatic and
tragical and impassioned portions of the story.
As a study of an historic period, _The Spanish Gypsy_ is not so great a
success as _Romola_; yet it more perfectly unfolds a unitary moral purpose,
and the various types of character are more originally developed. The
conflict of motives, the contrasted and opposed national interests, are
distinctly brought out, but the aroma of the time and place are wanting. To
describe a poetic and heroic era she is never content to do. Her method is
totally different from that of Scott, who reflects the spirit and life of
the time he depicts with almost absolute faithfulness. No gypsy was ever
such a character as Zarca, no gypsy girl ever had the conscience of
Fedalma. As in the case of _Romola_, so here, an historic period is used,
not so much for artistic as for philosophic purposes, because it is well
designed to present her ideas about heredity and tradition. _The Spanish
Gypsy_ is essentially a romance, and contains much of those more poetic
and ideal elements which distinguish _Daniel Deronda_ from her other
novels. This romantic element, if it does not develop poetry of the highest
quality, does bring out in its most perfect form all the finest
characteristics of her style.
While _The Spanish Gypsy_ affords many points of attack for the critic, yet
it cannot be dismissed by saying it is not a great poem. Its strong
qualities are too many to permit of its being disposed of in haste. With
all its defects it is a noble piece of work, and genuinely adds to the
author's expression of genius. It is one of those poems which win, not
popularity, but the heartiest admiration of a choice and elect few who find
life and highest inspiration in it, because giving strength to their
thoughts and purpose to their moral convictions. As a study of some of the
deeper problems of the ethical and social life of man, it is unsurpassed,
and the teaching imparted by it is singularly well and impressively
conveyed by the whole make of the poem. It is also remarkable for its large
and impressive style, its rich command of words, and the lofty beauty of
its diction. One of its most striking qualities, as Mr. Henry James, Jr.,
suggests, "is its extraordinary rhetorical energy and eloquence," and "its
splendid generosity of diction." The same writer says of the character of
Don Silva, that "nowhere has her marvellous power of expression, the
mingled dignity and pliancy of her style, obtained a greater triumph." The
critics have almost without exception dealt severely with the poem, but
they have applied to it the canons of poetic art as interpreted by
themselves. Genius creates its own laws, makes its own methods, reverses
old decisions and triumphs against the whole brood of critics. The world
accepts what is true and excellent, however defective in technical
requirements. Imperfect meters, and poetic structures not orthodox, may
disturb those who deal in criticism, but such limitations as these are not
sufficient to fix the final acceptance of a poem. More than one of the
greatest poems could not endure such tests. That _The Spanish Gypsy_ has
vitality of purpose, enduring interest in treatment, and a lofty eloquence
of diction, is doubtless enough to insure it an accepted place among the
few greater poems in the language. Its profoundly thoughtful interpretation
of some of the greater social problems mankind has to deal with, will
necessarily give a permanent interest for the lovers of speculative poetry,
while its genuine poetic merits will largely add to that interest, and add
to it by its tragic power, its rich ethical wisdom, and its fine portrayal
of character.
No other book of George Eliot's is so filled and inspired by the spirit of
her teachings as _The Spanish Gypsy_. Its inspiration and its interest lie
mainly in the direction of its moral and spiritual inculcations. Verse did
not stimulate her, but was a fetter; it clogged her highest powers. The
rich eloquence of her prose, with its pathos and sentiment, its broad
perspective and vigorous thought, was to her a continual stimulus and
incentive. Her poems are more labored than her novels, and for this very
reason they show the philosophy which gives them meaning more clearly.
Their greater concentration and less varied elements also largely help to
make apparent the teachings they contain. Her sympathy with the evolution
philosophy of the day is conspicuous in _The Spanish Gypsy_. It is simply a
dramatic interpretation of the higher phases of Darwinism. The doctrinal
element does not intrude itself, however; it is not on the surface, it is
well subordinated to the artistic elements of the poem. Even intelligent
readers may not detect it, and the majority of those who read the poem
without any preconceptions may not discover its philosophic bearings. Yet
to the studious reader the philosophy must be the most conspicuous element
which enters into the poem, and it gives character and meaning to the work
far more fully than in the case of any of her novels.
The aim of the poem is to show how hereditary race influences act as a
tragic element in opposition to individual emotions and inclinations. The
teaching of _Romola_ is much of it reproduced, at least that portion of it
which inculcates renunciation and altruism. Its distinguishing features,
however, more nearly resemble those of _Daniel Deronda_. The race element
is introduced, and the effect of the past is shown as it forms character
and gives direction to duties. One phase of its meaning has been very
clearly described by Mr. R.H. Hutton, who says the poem teaches "how the
inheritance of the definite streams of impulse and tradition stored up in
what we call race, often puts a veto upon any attempt of spontaneous
individual emotion or volitions to ignore or defy their Control, and to
emancipate itself from the tyranny of their disputable and apparently cruel
rule." "How the threads," he says again, "of hereditary capacity and
hereditary sentiment control as with invisible chords the orbits of even
the most powerful characters,--how the fracture of those threads, so far as
can be accomplished by mere _will_, may have even a greater effect in
wrecking character than moral degeneracy would itself produce,--how the man
who trusts and uses the hereditary forces which natural descent has
bestowed upon him, becomes a might and a centre in the world, while the
man, intrinsically the nobler, who dissipates his strength by trying to
swim against the stream of his past, is neutralized and paralyzed by the
vain effort,--again, how a divided past, a past not really homogeneous, may
weaken this kind of power, instead of strengthening it by the command of a
larger experience--all this George Eliot's poem paints with tragical
force."
The main thought of _The Spanish Gypsy_ is, that the moral and spiritual in
man is the result of social conditions which, if neglected, lead to the
destruction of all that is best in human nature. In the description of Mine
Host, in the opening pages of the poem, this evil result of a severing of
life from tradition is described. He was educated in the Jewish faith, but
was made a Christian at the age of ten.
So he had to be converted with his sire,
To doff the awe he learned as Ephriam,
And suit his manners to a Christian name.
The poet then delivers one of her doctrinal utterances, and one which is in
this case the keynote of the whole poem.
But infant awe, that unborn moving thing,
Dies with what nourished it, can never rise
From the dead womb and walk and seek new pasture.
That awe which grows up in childhood, if destroyed later, brings anarchy
into human life. All the characters of the poem exemplify this teaching,
and each is but a product of his past, individual or social. Don Silva,
Zarca, Fedalma, the Prior, Sephardo, illustrate this idea. The latter gives
utterance to the thought of the poem, when Don Silva says to him that he
has need of a friend who is not tied to sect or party, but who is capable
of following his "naked manhood" into what is just and right, without
regard to other considerations.
My lord, I will be frank; there's no such thing
As naked manhood. If the stars look down
On any mortal of our shape, whose strength
Is to judge all things without preference,
He is a monster, not a faithful man.
While my heart beats, it shall wear livery--
My people's livery, whose yellow badge
Marks them for Christian scorn. I will not say
Man is first man to me, then Jew or Gentile:
That suits the rich _marranos_; but to me
My father is first father and then man.
So much for frankness' sake. But let that pass.
'Tis true at least, I am no Catholic
But Salomo Sephardo, a born Jew,
Willing to serve Don Silva.
[Footnote: In a note George Eliot gives the following explanation of the
word _marranos_: "The name given by the Spanish Jews to the multitudes of
their race converted to Christianity at the end of the fourteenth century
and beginning of the fifteenth. The lofty derivation from _Maran-atha_, the
Lord cometh, seems hardly called for, seeing that _marrano_ is Spanish for
_pig_. The 'old Christians' learned to use the word as a term of contempt
for the 'new Christians,' or converted Jews and their descendants; but not
too monotonously, for they often interchanged it with the fine old crusted
opprobrium of the name _Jew_. Still, many Marranos held the highest
secular and ecclesiastical prizes in Spain, and were respected
accordingly."]
In the conversation between Don Silva and this uncle, the Prior expresses
in the strongest language his conviction that Fedalma will in time reveal
her gypsy blood, and that any rejection on the part of Don Silva of the
life assigned him by his birth will end in sorrow and misery. When Don
Silva declares his intention of following his own inclinations the Prior
answers,--
Your strength will turn to anguish, like the strength
Of fallen angels. Can you change your blood?
You are a Christian, with the Christian awe
In every vein. A Spanish noble, born
To serve your people and your people's faith.
Strong, are you? Turn your back upon the Cross--
Its shadow is before you. Leave your place:
Quit the great ranks of knighthood: you will walk
Forever with a tortured double self,
A self that will be hungry while you feast,
Will blush with shame while you are glorified,
Will feel the ache and chill of desolation
Even in the very bosom of your love.
This eloquent expostulation against rejection of any of those ties and
obligations imposed by birth and race is repeated again in the plea of
Zarca to his daughter, when he urges that there is no life and joy for
Fedalma apart from that race to which she belongs and those social
conditions which gave her mind its characteristics.
Will you adopt a soul without its thoughts,
Or grasp a life apart from flesh and blood?
Till then you cannot wed a Spanish Duke
And not wed shame at mention of your race,
And not wed hardness to their miseries--
Nay, wed not murder.
Zarca and the Prior are each faithful to race, religion and social
tradition. Each knows his duty, is content with the opportunities given him
by social inheritance, is thoroughly in harmony with his own past. Both are
consequently strong, resolute, successful. Zarca is a grand character, and
though a hero in a nation of vagabonds, he wholly identifies himself with
his people and accepts their destiny as his own. The Prior is a haughty
Spanish Churchman, who has inherited all the traits of a noble family, and
is proud of his priestly functions.