New circumstances now created a change almost amounting to a
revolution in Miss Evans's life. Mr. Isaac Evans, who had
been associated for some time with his father in the
land-agency business, married, and it was arranged that he
should take over the establishment at Griff. This led to the
removal in March, 1841, of Mr. Robert Evans and his daughter
to a house on the Foleshill road, in the immediate
neighborhood of Coventry. The house is still standing,
although considerably altered--a semi-detached house with a
good bit of garden round it, and from its upper windows a
wide view over the surrounding country, the immediate
foreground being unfortunately, however, disfigured by the
presence of mills and chimneys. It is town life now instead
of country life, and we feel the effects at once in the tone
of the subsequent letters. The friendships now formed with
Mr. and Mrs. Bray and Miss Sara Hennell particularly, and the
being brought within reach of a small circle of cultivated
people generally, render this change of residence an
exceedingly important factor in George Eliot's development.
It chanced that the new house was next door to Mrs. Pears', a
sister of Mr. Bray, and as there had been some acquaintance
in days gone by between him and the family at Griff, this
close neighborhood led to an exchange of visits. The
following extracts from letters to Miss Lewis show how the
acquaintance ripened, and will give some indications of the
first impressions of Coventry life:
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Lewis, Saturday evening, April, 1841.]
Last evening I mentioned you to my neighbor (Mrs. Pears), who is
growing into the more precious character of a friend. I have seriously
to be thankful for far better health than I have possessed, I think,
for years, and I am imperatively called on to trade diligently with
this same talent. I am likely to be more and more busy, if I succeed
in a project that is just now occupying my thoughts and feelings. I
seem to be tried in a contrary mode to that in which most of my
dearest friends are being tutored--tried in the most dangerous way--by
prosperity. Solomon says, "In the day of prosperity be joyful, but in
the day of adversity consider." It seems to me that a transposition,
_vice versâ_, of the admonitions would be equally salutary and just.
Truly, as the prophet of Selwyn has told us, "Heaven is formidable in
its favors." Not that a wise and grateful reception of blessings
obliges us to stretch our faces to the length of one of Cromwell's
Barebones; nor to shun that joyous, bird-like enjoyment of things
(which, though perishable as to their actual existence, will be
embalmed to eternity in the precious spices of gratitude) that is
distinct from levity and voluptuousness. I am really crowded with
engagements just now, and I have added one to the number of my
correspondents.
[Illustration: House in Foleshill Road, Coventry.]
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Lewis, April, 1841]
The whole of last week was devoted to a bride's-maid's[17] duties, and
each day of this has been partially occupied in paying or receiving
visits. I have a calm in sea and sky that I doubt not will ere long be
interrupted. This is not our rest, if we are among those for whom
there remaineth one, and to pass through life without tribulation (or,
as Jeremy Taylor beautifully says, with only such a measure of it as
may be compared to an artificial discord in music, which nurses the
ear for the returning harmony) would leave us destitute of one of the
marks that invariably accompany salvation, and of that fellowship in
the sufferings of the Redeemer which can alone work in us a
resemblance to one of the most prominent parts of his divinely perfect
character, and enable us to obey the injunction, "In patience possess
your souls." I have often observed how, in secular things, active
occupation in procuring the necessaries of life renders the character
indifferent to trials not affecting that one object. There is an
analogous influence produced in the Christian by a vigorous pursuit of
duty, a determination to work while it is day.
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Lewis, 28th April, 1841.]
One of the penalties women must pay for modern deference to their
intellect is, I suppose, that they must give reasons for their
conduct, after the fashion of men. The days are past for pleading a
woman's reason. The truth is, that the hinderances to my writing have
been like the little waves of the brooks that look so lovely just
now--they have arisen one after another close to my side, but when I
have looked back I have found the ripples too insignificant to be
marked in the distance. My father's longer _séjours_ at home than
formerly, and multiplied acquaintances and engagements, are really
valid excuses for me hitherto, but I do not intend to need them in
future; I hope to be a "snapper-up of unconsidered" moments. I have
just been interrupted by a visit from a lass of fourteen, who has
despoiled me of half an hour, and I am going out to dinner, so that I
cannot follow the famous advice, "Hasten slowly." I suppose that you
framed your note on the principle that a sharp and sudden sound is the
most rousing, but there are _addenda_ about yourself that I want to
know, though I dare not ask for them. I do not feel settled enough to
write more at present. How is it that Erasmus could write volumes on
volumes and multifarious letters besides, while I, whose labors hold
about the same relation to his as an ant-hill to a pyramid or a drop
of dew to the ocean, seem too busy to write a few? A most posing
query!
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Lewis, Thursday morning, June, 1841.]
I have of late felt a depression that has disordered the vision of my
mind's eye and made me _alive_ to what is certainly a fact (though my
imagination when I am in health is an adept at concealing it), that I
am _alone_ in the world. I do not mean to be so sinful as to say that
I have not friends _most_ undeservedly kind and tender, and disposed
to form a far too favorable estimate of me, but I mean that I have no
one who enters into my pleasures or my griefs, no one with whom I can
pour out my soul, no one with the same yearnings, the same
temptations, the same delights as myself. I merely mention this as the
impression that obtrudes itself when my body tramples on its
keeper--(a metaphor borrowed from a menagerie of wild beasts, if it
should happen to puzzle you!)--mysterious "connection exquisite of
distant worlds" that we present! A few drops of steel will perhaps
make me laugh at the simple objects that, in gloom and mist, I conjure
into stalking apparitions.
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Lewis, at Margate, 31st July, 1841.]
I am beginning to be interlaced with multiplying ties of duty and
affection, that, while they render my new home happier, forbid me to
leave it on a pleasure-seeking expedition. I think, indeed, that both
my heart and limbs would leap to behold the great and wide sea--that
old ocean on which man can leave no trace.
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Lewis, 3d Sept. 1841.]
I have been revelling in Nichol's "Architecture of the Heavens and
Phenomena of the Solar System," and have been in imagination winging
my flight from system to system, from universe to universe, trying to
conceive myself in such a position and with such a visual faculty as
would enable me to enjoy what Young enumerates among the novelties of
the "Stranger" man when he bursts the shell to
"Behold an infinite of floating worlds
Divide the crystal waves of ether pure
In endless voyage without port."
"Hospitable infinity!" Nichol beautifully says. How should I love to
have a thorough-going student with me, that we might read together! We
might each alternately employ the voice and the fingers, and thus
achieve just twice as much as a poor solitary. I am more impressed
than ever with a truth beautifully expressed in "Woman's
Mission"--"Learning is only so far valuable as it serves to enlarge
and enlighten the bounds of conscience." This I believe it eminently
does when pursued humbly and piously, and from a belief that it is a
solemn duty to cultivate every faculty of our nature so far as primary
obligations allow. There is an exhortation of St. Paul's that I should
love to take as my motto: "Finally, my brethren, whatsoever things are
honest" (you know the continuation)--"if there be _any_ virtue, and if
there be any praise, think on these things." I have had to lament
lately that mine is not a _hard-working_ mind--it requires frequent
rest. I am violently in love with the Italian fashion of repeating an
adjective or adverb, and even noun, to give force to expression:
there is so much more fire in it than in our circumlocutory phrases,
our dull "verys" and "exceedinglys" and "extremelys." I strongly
recommend Hallam to you. I shall read it again if I live. When a sort
of haziness comes over the mind, making one feel weary of articulated
or written signs of ideas, does not the notion of a less laborious
mode of communication, of a perception approaching more nearly to
intuition, seem attractive? Nathless, I love words: they are the
quoits, the bows, the staves that furnish the gymnasium of the mind.
Without them, in our present condition, our intellectual strength
would have no implements. I have been rather humbled in thinking that
if I were thrown on an uncivilized island, and had to form a
literature for its inhabitants from my own mental stock, how very
fragmentary would be the information with which I could furnish them!
It would be a good mode of testing one's knowledge to set one's self
the task of writing sketches of all subjects that have entered into
one's studies entirely from the chronicles of memory. The prevalence
of misery and want in this boasted nation of prosperity and glory is
appalling, and really seems to call us away from mental luxury. O to
be doing some little towards the regeneration of this groaning,
travailing creation! I am supine and stupid--overfed with
favors--while the haggard looks and piercing glance of want and
conscious hopelessness are to be seen in the streets.
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Lewis, 1st Oct. 1841.]
Is not this a true autumn day? Just the still melancholy that I
love--that makes life and nature harmonize. The birds are consulting
about their migrations, the trees are putting on the hectic or the
pallid hues of decay, and begin to strew the ground, that one's very
footsteps may not disturb the repose of earth and air, while they give
us a scent that is a perfect anodyne to the restless spirit. Delicious
autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly
about the earth seeking the successive autumns.
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Lewis, 2d Nov. 1841.]
I am going, I hope, to-day to effect a breach in the thick wall of
indifference behind which the denizens of Coventry seem inclined to
intrench themselves; but I fear I shall fail.
This probably refers to the first visit paid by Miss Evans to
Mr. and Mrs. Bray at their house. They had met in the
previous May at Mrs. Pears'; but although they were at once
mutually attracted, the acquaintance does not seem to have
been immediately prosecuted further. Now, however, any time
lost in the beginning was quickly made up, and it is
astonishing how rapidly the most intimate relations were
formed. Mr. Bray was a ribbon-manufacturer, well-to-do at
that time, and had a charming house, Rosehill, with a
beautiful lawn and garden, in the outskirts of Coventry. Only
a part of his time was occupied with his business, and he had
much leisure and opportunity, of which he availed himself,
for liberal self-education and culture. His was a robust,
self-reliant mind. Already, in 1839, he had published a work
on the "Education of the Feelings," viewed from the
phrenological standpoint; and in this year, 1841, appeared
his most important book, "The Philosophy of Necessity." He
always remained a sincere and complete believer in the
science of phrenology. He had married Miss Caroline Hennell,
sister of the Mr. Charles Hennell who published, in 1838, "An
Inquiry Concerning the Origin of Christianity"--a remarkable
book, which was translated into German, Strauss contributing
a preface to the translation. It will be seen from subsequent
letters how greatly Miss Evans was interested in this
book--how much she admired it; and the reading of it,
combined with the association with her new friends--with the
philosophical speculations of Mr. Bray, and with Mrs. Bray's
sympathy in her brother's critical and sceptical
standpoint--no doubt hastened the change in her attitude
towards the dogmas of the old religion. In the Analytical
Catalogue of Mr. Chapman's publications, issued in 1852,
there is an analysis of Hennell's "Inquiry," done by Miss
Evans, which may be inserted here, as giving her idea of the
book eleven years later.
"The first edition of this work appeared in 1838, when the present
strong current of public opinion in favor of free religious discussion
had not yet set in; and it probably helped to generate the tone of
thought exhibited in more recent works of the same class, to which
circumstances have given a wider fame--works which, like the above, in
considering questions of Biblical criticism and the philosophy of
Christianity, combine high refinement, purity of aim, and candor, with
the utmost freedom of investigation, and with a popularity of style
which wins them the attention not only of the learned but of the
practical.
"The author opens his inquiry with an historical sketch, extending
from the Babylonish Captivity to the end of the first century, the
design of which is to show how, abstracting the idea of the
miraculous, or any speciality of divine influence, the gradual
development of certain elements in Jewish character, and the train of
events in Jewish history, contributed to form a suitable _nidus_ for
the production of a character and career like that of Jesus, and how
the devoted enthusiasm generated by such a career in his immediate
disciples, rendering it easier for them to modify their ideas of the
Messiah than to renounce their belief in their Master's
Messiahship--the accession of Gentile converts and the destruction of
the last remnant of theocracy, necessitating a wider interpretation of
Messianic hopes--the junction of Christian ideas with Alexandrian
Platonism, and the decrepitude of polytheism, combined to associate
the name of Jesus, his Messiahship, his death and his resurrection,
with a great moral and religious revolution. This historical sketch,
which is under the disadvantage of presenting, synthetically, ideas
based on a subsequent analysis, is intended to meet the difficulty so
often urged, and which might be held to nullify the value of a
critical investigation, that Christianity is a fact for which, if the
supposition of a miraculous origin be rejected, no adequate and
probable causes can be assigned, and that thus, however defective may
be the evidence of the New-Testament history, its acceptance is the
least difficult alternative.
"In the writer's view, the characteristics of the Essene sect, as
traced by Josephus and Philo, justify the supposition that Jesus was
educated in their school of philosophy; but with the elevated belief
and purity of life which belonged to this sect he united the ardent
patriotic ideas which had previously animated Judas of Galilee, who
resisted the Roman authority on the ground that God was the only ruler
and lord of the Jews. The profound consciousness of genius, a
religious fervor which made the idea of the divine ever present to
him, patriotic zeal, and a spirit of moral reform, together with a
participation in the enthusiastic belief of his countrymen that the
long-predicted exaltation of Israel was at hand, combined to produce
in the mind of Jesus the gradual conviction that he was himself the
Messiah, with whose reign that exaltation would commence. He began, as
John the Baptist had already done, to announce 'the kingdom of
heaven,' a phrase which, to the Jewish mind, represented the national
glorification of Israel; and by his preaching, and the influence of
his powerful personality, he won multitudes in Galilee to a
participation in his belief that he was the expected Son of David. His
public entrance into Jerusalem in the guise which tradition associated
with the Messiah, when he sanctioned the homage of the multitude, was
probably the climax of his confidence that a great demonstration of
divine power, in concurrence with popular enthusiasm, would seat him
triumphantly on the throne of David. No such result appearing, his
views of the divine dispensation with respect to himself began to
change, and he felt the presentiment that he must enter on his
Messianic reign through the gates of suffering and death. Viewing
Jesus as a pretender not only to spiritual but to political power, as
one who really expected the subversion of the existing government to
make way for his own kingship (though he probably relied on divine
rather than on human means), he must necessarily have appeared in a
dangerous light to those of his countrymen who were in authority, and
who were anxious at any price to preserve public tranquillity in the
presence of the Roman power, ready to visit with heavy vengeance any
breach of order, and to deprive them of the last remnants of their
independence; and hence the motives for his arrest and execution. To
account for the belief of the disciples in the resurrection of their
Master--a belief which appears to have been sincere--the author thinks
it necessary to suppose a certain nucleus of fact, and this he finds
in the disappearance of the body of Jesus, a point attested by all the
four evangelists. The secret of this disappearance probably lay with
Joseph of Arimathæa and Nicodemus, who were anxious to avoid
implicating themselves with that fermentation of regretful enthusiasm
to which a resort of the disciples to the grave might give rise.
Animated by a belief in the resurrection, which, being more harmless
in the eyes of the authorities than that in a living Messiah, they
were permitted to preach with little molestation; the zeal of the
disciples won many converts; a new impulse was given to their cause by
the accession of Paul, who became the chief missionary of the new
faith, as construed by himself, to the Gentiles; and the concurrence
of the causes indicated above, modifying the early creed of the
apostles, and blending it with trains of thought already prevalent,
bore along Christianity in its conquest over the minds of men until it
became the dominant religion of the Roman world.
"Having sought to show, in this preliminary sketch, that a belief in
miracles is not entailed on us by the fact of the early growth of
Christianity, the author enters on the inquiry whether the claims of
the evangelical writers on our credence are such as to sustain the
miraculous part of their narratives. The answer is in the negative. He
discusses, first, the date and credibility of each Gospel, and
concludes that while Matthew has many marvellous stories, incongruous
in themselves, and not only unsupported but contradicted by the other
evangelists, he nevertheless presents the most comprehensible account
of the career of Jesus; that in Mark, evidently more remote in time
and circumstances, both from his events and from Jewish modes of
thought, the idea conveyed of Jesus is much vaguer and less
explicable; that in Luke there is a still further modification of his
character, which has acquired a tinge of asceticism; while in John the
style of his teaching is wholly changed, and instead of the graphic
parable and the pithy apothegm, he utters long, mystical discourses in
the style of the first epistle bearing the name of the same
evangelist. Mr. Hennell, however, adheres to the conclusion that the
substance of this Gospel came from the apostle John at an advanced
age, when both the events of his early manhood and the scenes of his
native land lay in the far distance. The writer then enters on a
special examination of the Resurrection and Ascension, and the other
miracles in the Gospels and the Acts, and inquires how far they are
sustained by the apostolic Epistles. He examines the prophecies of the
Old Testament supposed to have been fulfilled in Jesus, and also the
predictions of Jesus himself concerning his death and resurrection;
and, finally, he considers the character, views, and doctrine of
Christ. According to him, an impartial study of the conduct and
sayings of Jesus, as exhibited in the Gospels, produces the conviction
that he was an enthusiast and a revolutionist, no less than a reformer
and a moral and religious teacher. Passages are adduced from the Old
Testament, and from the apocryphal and rabbinical writings, to show
that there is scarcely anything absolutely original in the teaching of
Jesus; but, in the opinion of the author, he manifests a freedom and
individuality in the use of his materials, and a general superiority
of tone and selection, which, united with the devotion of his life to
what he held the highest purpose, mark him to be of an order of minds
occurring but at rare intervals in the history of our race.
"Shortly after the appearance of this work it was translated into
German through the instrumentality of Dr. Strauss, who, in the preface
he prefixed to it, says: 'Not sufficiently acquainted with German to
read continuously a learned work in that language, the labors of our
theologians were only accessible to him' (the author of the 'Inquiry')
'so far as they were written in Latin, or translated into English, or
treated of in English writings or periodicals: especially he is
unacquainted with what the Germans have effected in the criticism of
the gospels since Schleiermacher's work on Luke, and even the earlier
commentators he knows but imperfectly. Only so much the more
remarkable is it, however, that both in the principles and in the main
results of his investigation, he is on the very track which has been
entered on among us in recent years.... That at certain periods,
certain modes of thought lie as it were in the atmosphere, ... and
come to light in the most remote places without perceptible media of
communication, is shown, not only by the contents, but by the spirit,
of Mr. Hennell's work. No further traces of the ridicule and scorn
which characterize his countrymen of the deistical school; the subject
is treated in the earnest and dignified tone of the truth-seeker, not
with the rancor of a passionate polemic; we nowhere find him deriving
religion from priestcraft, but from the tendencies and wants of human
nature.... These elevated views, which the learned German of our day
appropriates as the fruit of the religious and scientific advancement
of his nation, this Englishman, to whom most of the means at our
command were wanting, has been able to educe entirely from himself....
An Englishman, a merchant, a man of the world, he possesses, both by
nature and by training, the practical insight, the sure tact, which
lays hold on realities. The solution of problems over which the German
flutters with many circuits of learned formulæ, our English author
often succeeds in seizing at one spring.... To the learned he often
presents things under a surprisingly new aspect; to the unlearned,
invariably under that which is the most comprehensible and
attractive.'"
The reading of Mr. Hennell's book no doubt marks an epoch in
George Eliot's development; but probably there had been a
good deal of half-unconscious preparation beforehand (as
indicated by Mrs. Cash's remarks on Isaac Taylor's work, in
the last chapter), which was greatly stimulated now by the
contact with new minds. The following extract from a letter
to Miss Lewis, dated 13th November, 1841, accurately fixes
the date of the first acknowledgment by herself that her
opinions were undergoing so momentous a change.
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Lewis, 13th Nov. 1841.]
My whole soul has been engrossed in the most interesting of all
inquiries for the last few days, and to what result my thoughts may
lead, I know not--possibly to one that will startle you; but my only
desire is to know the truth, my only fear to cling to error. I venture
to say our love will not decompose under the influence of separation,
unless you excommunicate me for differing from you in opinion.
Think--is there any _conceivable_ alteration in me that would prevent
your coming to me at Christmas? I long to have a friend such as you
are, I think I may say, alone to me, to unburden every thought and
difficulty--for I am still a solitary, though near a city. But we have
the universe to talk with, infinity in which to stretch the gaze of
hope, and an all-bountiful, all-wise Creator in whom to confide--he
who has given us the untold delights of which our reason, our emotion,
our sensations, are the ever-springing sources.
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Lewis, 8th Dec. 1841.]
What a pity that while mathematics are indubitable, immutable, and no
one doubts the properties of a triangle or a circle, doctrines
infinitely important to man are buried in a charnel-heap of bones over
which nothing is heard but the barks and growls of contention! "Unto
their assembly, mine honor, be not thou united."
It was impossible for such a nature as Miss Evans's, in the
enthusiasm of this first great change, to rest satisfied in
compliance with the old forms, and she was so uneasy in an
equivocal position that she determined to give up going to
church. This was an unforgivable offence in the eyes of her
father, who was a Churchman of the old school, and nearly led
to a family rupture. He went so far as to put into an agent's
hands the lease of the house in the Foleshill road, with the
intention of going to live with his married daughter. Upon
this, Miss Evans made up her mind to go into lodgings at
Leamington, and to try to support herself by teaching. The
first letter to Mrs. Bray refers to this incident:
[Sidenote: Letter to Mrs. Bray, Jan. 1842.]
My guardian angel, Mrs. Pears, has just sent for me to hear your kind
note, which has done my aching limbs a little good. I shall be most
thankful for the opportunity of going to Leamington, and Mrs. Pears is
willing to go too. There is but _one_ woe, that of leaving my dear
father--all else, doleful lodgings, scanty meals, and _gazing-stockism_,
are quite indifferent to me. Therefore do not fear for me when I am
once settled in my home--wherever it may be--and freed from wretched
suspense.
[Sidenote: Letter to Mrs. Pears, Friday evening, Feb. 1842.]
Far from being weary of your dear little Henry, his matin visits are
as cheering to me as those of any little bird
"that comes in spite of sorrow,
And at my window bids good-morrow."
We have not, perhaps, been so systematic as a regular tutor and pupil
would have been, but we crave indulgence for some laxity. I was really
touched that you should think of _me_ while among friends more closely
linked with you in every way. I was beginning to get used to the
conviction that, ivy-like as I am by nature, I must (as we see ivy do
sometimes) shoot out into an isolated tree. Never again imagine that
you need ask forgiveness for speaking or writing to me on subjects to
me more interesting than aught else; on the contrary, believe that I
really enjoy conversation of this nature: blank silence and cold
reserve are the only bitters I care for in my intercourse with you. I
can rejoice in all the joys of humanity; in all that serves to elevate
and purify feeling and action; nor will I quarrel with the million
who, I am persuaded, are with me in intention, though our dialects
differ. Of course, I must desire the ultimate downfall of error, for
no error is innocuous; but this assuredly will occur without my
proselytizing aid, and the best proof of a real love of the
truth--that freshest stamp of divinity--is a calm confidence in its
intrinsic power to secure its own high destiny, that of universal
empire. Do not fear that I will become a stagnant pool by a
self-sufficient determination only to listen to my own echo; to read
the yea, yea, on my own side, and be most comfortably deaf to the nay,
nay. Would that all rejected _practically_ this maxim! To _fear_ the
examination of any proposition appears to me an intellectual and a
moral palsy that will ever hinder the firm grasping of any substance
whatever. For my part, I wish to be among the ranks of that glorious
crusade that is seeking to set Truth's Holy Sepulchre free from a
usurped domination. We shall then see her resurrection! Meanwhile,
although I cannot rank among my principles of action a fear of
vengeance eternal, gratitude for predestined salvation, or a
revelation of future glories as a reward, I fully participate in the
belief that the only heaven here, or hereafter, is to be found in
conformity with the will of the Supreme; a continual aiming at the
attainment of the perfect ideal, the true _logos_ that dwells in the
bosom of the one Father. I hardly know whether I am ranting after the
fashion of one of the Primitive Methodist prophetesses, with a cart
for her rostrum, I am writing so fast. Good-bye, and blessings on you,
as they will infallibly be on the children of peace and virtue.
Again about the same date in 1842 she writes to Mrs. Bray:
[Sidenote: Letter to Mrs. Bray, Feb. 1842.]
A heart full of love and gratitude to you for all your kindness in
thought and act to me, undeserving. I dare say my manner belies my
feelings: but friendship must live by faith and not by sight, and I
shall be a great gainer by leaving you to interpret my mystic
character without any other key than your own goodness.
The last letter of the series to Miss Lewis also refers to
the difficulties of the situation:
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Lewis, 19th Feb. 1842.]
I dare say you have added, subtracted, and divided suppositions until
you think you have a sure product--viz., a good quantum, or, rather,
a bad one, of indifference and forgetfulness, as the representation of
my conduct towards you. If so, revise your arithmetic, for be it known
to you that, having had my propensities, sentiments, and intellect
gauged a second time, I am pronounced to possess a large organ of
"adhesiveness," a still larger one of "firmness," and as large of
"conscientiousness"--hence, if I should turn out a very weathercock
and a most pitiful truckler, you will have data for the exercise of
faith maugre common-sense, common justice, and the testimony of your
eyes and ears.
How do you go on for society, for communion of spirit, the drop of
nectar in the cup of mortals? But why do I say the drop? The mind that
feels its value will get large draughts from some source, if denied it
in the most commonly chosen way.
"'Mid the rich store of nature's gifts to man
Each has his loves, close wedded to his soul
By fine association's golden links.
As the Great Spirit bids creation teem
With conscious being and intelligence,
So man, his miniature resemblance, gives
To matter's every form a speaking soul,
An emanation from his spirit's fount,
The impress true of its peculiar seal.
Here finds he thy best image, sympathy."
Beautiful egoism, to quote one's own. But where is not this same ego?
The martyr at the stake seeks its gratification as much as the court
sycophant, the difference lying in the comparative dignity and beauty
of the two egos. People absurdly talk of self-denial. Why, there is
none in virtue, to a being of moral excellence: the greatest torture
to such a soul would be to run counter to the dictates of conscience;
to wallow in the slough of meanness, deception, revenge, or
sensuality. This was Paul's idea in the first chapter of 2d Epistle to
Timothy (I think that is the passage).
I have had a weary week. At the beginning more than the usual amount
of _cooled_ glances, and exhortations to the suppression of
self-conceit. The former are so many hailstones that make me wrap more
closely around me the mantle of determinate purpose: the latter are
needful, and have a tendency to exercise forbearance, that well repays
the temporary smart. The heart knoweth its own, whether bitterness or
joy: let us, dearest, beware how we, _even with good intentions_,
press a finger's weight on the already bruised.
And about the same date she writes to Mrs. Bray:
[Sidenote: Letter to Mrs. Bray, end of Feb. 1842.]
I must relieve my conscience before I go to bed by entering a protest
against every word or accent of discontent that I uttered this
morning. If I have ever complained of any person or circumstance, I do
penance by eating my own words. When my real self has regained its
place, I can shake off my troubles "like dewdrops from the lion's
mane," and then I feel the baseness of imputing my sorrows to others
rather than to my own pitiful weakness. But I do not write for your
forgiveness; that I know I have. I only want to satisfy my indignation
against myself.
The conclusion of the matter was that Mr. Evans withdrew his
house from the agent's hands, and his daughter went to stay
at Griff, with Mr. and Mrs. Isaac Evans, whence she writes
the following letter to Mrs. Pears:
[Sidenote: Letter to Mrs. Pears, Thursday, Mch. 1842.]
I have just been climbing up some favorite old hills, or rather
hillocks, and if I could see you I should find myself in high
preparation for one of my thorough chats. Oh, if I could transport
myself to your dining-room, where I guess you and Mr. Pears are
sitting in anticipation of tea--carrying on no "holy war," but at
peace with the world and its opinions, or, if ever you do battle, in
the happy ranks of the majority--I could kiss you into sublime
liberality! How are you and your dear husband and children? It seems a
week of years instead of days since you said to me your kind good-bye,
and as I have tried your magnanimity quite long enough to be assured
that you will not let me hear of you without a beseeching letter from
me, I snatch half an hour from a too short day for the generous
purpose of doubly qualifying myself, first, by pouring out the
contents of my gossip-wallet, and then quietly awaiting the news I
want to hear of you. I have here, in every way, abundant and
unlooked-for blessings--delicacy and consideration from all whom I
have seen; and I really begin to recant my old belief about the
indifference of all the world towards me, for my acquaintances of this
neighborhood seem to seek an opportunity of smiling on me in spite of
my heresy. All these things, however, are but the fringe and ribbons
of happiness. They are _ad_herent, not _in_herent; and, without any
affectation, I feel myself to be acquiring what I must hold to be a
precious possession, an independence of what is baptized by the world
external good. There are externals (at least, they are such in common
thought) that I could ill part with--the deep, blue, glorious heavens,
bending as they do over all, presenting the same arch, emblem of a
truer omnipresence, wherever we may be chased, and all the sweet,
peace-breathing sights and sounds of this lovely earth. These, and the
thoughts of the good and great, are an inexhaustible world of delight;
and the felt desire to be one in will and design with the great mind
that has laid open to us these treasures is the sun that warms and
fructifies it. I am more and more impressed with the duty of _finding_
happiness. On a retrospection of the past month, I regret nothing so
much as my own impetuosity both of feeling and judging. I am not
inclined to be sanguine as to my dear father's future determination,
and I sometimes have an intensely vivid consciousness, which I only
allow to be a fleeting one, of all that is painful and that has been
so. I can only learn that my father has commenced his alterations at
Packington, but he only appears to be temporarily acquiescing in my
brother's advice "not to be in a hurry." I do not intend to remain
here longer than three weeks, or, at the very farthest, a month; and,
if I am not then recalled, I shall write for definite directions. I
must have a _home_, not a visiting-place. I wish you would learn
something from my father, and send me word how he seems disposed. I
hope you get long walks on these beautiful days. You would love to
hear the choristers we have here; they are hymning away incessantly.
Can you not drive over and see me? Do come by hook or by crook. Why,
Mr. Pears could almost walk hither. I am becoming very hurried, for
most welcome tea is in the vicinity, and I must be busy after I have
imbibed its inspiration. You will write to me to-morrow, will you not?
and pray insist on Mr. Pears writing an appendix. I had a note from
Mrs. Bray this morning, and I liked it better than my breakfast. So do
give me a little treat on Saturday. Blessings on you and yours, as all
forlorn beggars have said from time immemorial to their benefactors;
but real feeling, you know, will sometimes slip into a hackneyed
guise.
Miss Evans remained for about three weeks at Griff, at the
end of which time, through the intervention of her brother,
the Brays, and Miss Rebecca Franklin, the father was very
glad to receive her again, and she resumed going to church as
before.
It will be seen from a subsequent noteworthy letter to Miss
Sara Hennell, dated 19th October, 1843, that Miss Evans's
views of the best course to be pursued under similar
circumstances had already undergone considerable
modifications, and in the last year of her life she told me
that, although she did not think she had been to blame, few
things had occasioned her more regret than this temporary
collision with her father, which might, she thought, have
been avoided with a little management.
In July of this year (1842) Miss Sara Hennell--the gifted
sister of Mrs. Bray--came to Rosehill, and completed the trio
destined to exert the most important influence over the life
of George Eliot. The individual characters of these three
friends, and the relations each bore to their correspondent,
will unfold themselves in the letters. It is only necessary
here to say that the two ladies--Cara and Sara, as they are
always addressed--now became like sisters to Miss Evans, and
Mr. Bray her most intimate male friend, and the letters to
them form an almost unbroken chain during all the remainder
of George Eliot's life.
To us Miss Sara Hennell is the most important correspondent,
for it is to her that Miss Evans mainly turns now for
intellectual sympathy; to Mrs. Bray when she is in pain or
trouble, and wants affectionate companionship; with Mr. Bray
she quarrels, and the humorous side of her nature is brought
out. Every good story goes to him, with a certainty that it
will be appreciated. With all three it is a beautiful and
consistent friendship, running like a thread through the woof
of the coming thirty-eight years. For the next twelve years,
as will be seen, it is quite the most important thread; and
although later it naturally became very much less important,
it was never dropped except for a moment, in 1854, owing to a
brief misunderstanding of letters, which will appear in its
due place.
The following letters to Miss Sara Hennell show what was
passing from 30th August, 1842, to April, 1843:
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, 30th Aug. 1842.]
How I have delighted in the thought that there are beings who are
better than their promises, beyond the regions of waking and sleeping
dreams.
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, Friday, Sept. 1842.]
I have not yet accounted for my tardiness in writing, which, I assure
you, is no representation of my usual habit, and has been occasioned
only by a week's indisposition, the foster-parent to the ill-favored
offspring of my character and circumstances, gloom and stolidity, and
I could not write to you with such companions to my thought. I am
anxious that you should not imagine me unhappy even in my most
melancholy moods, for I hold all indulgence of sadness that has the
slightest tincture of discontent to be a grave delinquency. I think
there can be few who more truly feel than I that this is a world of
bliss and beauty--that is, that bliss and beauty are the end, the
tendency of creation; and evils are the shadows that are the only
conditions of light in the picture, and I live in much, much
enjoyment.
I am beginning to enjoy the "Eneid," though, I suppose, much in the
same way as the uninitiated enjoy wine, compared with the
connoisseurs.
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, 3d Nov. 1842.]
I have been in high displeasure with myself, have thought my soul only
fit for limbo, to keep company with other abortions, and my life the
shallowest, muddiest, most unblessing stream. Having got my head above
this slough of despond, I feel quite inclined to tell you how much
pleasure your letter gave me. You observe in your note that some
persons say the unsatisfied longing we feel in ourselves for something
better than the greatest perfection to be found on earth is a proof
that the true object of our desires lies beyond it. Assuredly, this
earth is not the home of the spirit--it will rest only in the bosom of
the Infinite. But the non-satisfaction of the affections and intellect
being inseparable from the unspeakable advantage of such a mind as
that of man in connection with his corporal condition and _terrene_
destiny, forms not at present an argument with me for the realization
of particular desires.
The next letter refers to Miss Mary Hennell's[18] last
illness:
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, 7th Jan. 1843.]
I cannot help wishing to tell you, now that you are in trouble and
anxiety, how dear you are to me, and how the recollection of you is
ever freshening in my mind. You have need of all your cheeriness and
energy; and if they do not fail, I think it almost enviable, as far as
one's self is concerned (not, of course, when the sufferer is
remembered), to have the care of a sick-room, with its twilight and
tiptoe stillness and helpful activity. I have always had a peculiarly
peaceful feeling in such a scene.
Again, after the death of Miss Mary Hennell, there is a
letter to her sister Sara:
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, April, 1843.]
We always find that our stock of appreciated good can never be really
diminished. When the chief desire of the eyes is taken, we can afford
a gaze to hitherto unnoticed possessions; and even when the topmost
boughs are lopped, a thousand shoots spring from below with the energy
of new life. So it will be with you; but you cannot yet look beyond
the present, nor is it desirable that you should. It would not be well
for us to overleap one grade of joy or suffering: our life would lose
its completeness and beauty.
Rosehill not only afforded a pleasant variety in the Coventry
life, as most visitors to the town, of any note, found their
way there, but the Brays were also frequently in the habit of
making little holiday excursions, in many of which Miss Evans
now joined. Thus we find them in May, 1843, all going to
Stratford and Malvern, together with Mr. Charles Hennell and
Miss Sara Hennell, for a week; and again, in July of that
year the same party, accompanied by Miss Brabant, daughter of
Dr. Brabant of Devizes, went on a fortnight's tour, visiting
Tenby, among other places. This trip is chiefly memorable
from the fact that it was indirectly responsible for Miss
Evans undertaking the translation of Strauss's "Leben Jesu."
For Miss Brabant (to whom the translation had been confided
by Mr. Joseph Parkes of Birmingham and a group of friends)
became engaged to be married to Mr. Charles Hennell; and
shortly after her marriage she handed the work over to Miss
Evans.
In the next two letters to Miss Sara Hennell there are
allusions to the approaching marriage, which took place in
London on 1st November, 1843, the Brays and Miss Evans being
present.
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, 16th Sept. 1843.]
Many thanks for procuring me the hymns and anthems. I was right glad
to play "Ancient of Ages" again, and I shall like still better to sing
it with you when we meet. That that is to be so soon, and under
circumstances so joyful, are among the _mirabilia_ of this changing
world. To see and re-see such a cluster of not indifferent persons as
the programme for the wedding gives, will be almost too large a
_bonne-bouche_.
I saw Robert Owen yesterday, Mr. and Mrs. Bray having kindly asked me
to dine with him, and I think if his system prosper it will be in
spite of its founder, and not because of his advocacy.
The next letter to Mrs. Bray gives a pleasant glimpse of
their studies together, and of the little musical society
that was in the habit of meeting at Rosehill to play
concerted pieces.
[Sidenote: Letter to Mrs. Bray, no date, 1843.]
I only wish you would change houses with the mayor, that I might get
to you when I would. I send you the first part of "Wallenstein," with
the proposition that we should study that in conjunction with the
"Thirty Years' War," as I happen to have a loose copy. We had better
omit the "Lager," and begin "Die Piccolomini." You shall have "Joan of
Arc," my grand favorite, as a _bonne-bouche_ when you have got through
"Wallenstein," which will amply repay you for any trouble in
translating it, and is not more difficult than your reading ought to
be now. I have skimmed Manzoni, who has suffered sadly in being poured
out of silver into pewter. The chapter on Philosophy and Theology is
worth reading. Miss Brabant sent me my "Hyperion" with a note, the
other day. She had put no direction besides Coventry, and the parcel
had consequently been sent to some other Miss Evans, and my choice
little sentimental treasures, alas! exposed to vulgar gaze. Thank you
for the manual, which I have had so long. I trust I did not bestow
those scratches on the cover. I have been trying to find a French book
that you were not likely to have read, but I do not think I have one,
unless it be "Gil Blas," which you are perhaps too virtuous to have
read, though how any one can opine it to have a vicious tendency I am
at a loss to conjecture. They might as well say that to condemn a
person to eat a whole plum-pudding would deprive him of all future
relish for plain food. I have had a visitor ever since Saturday, and
she will stay till Saturday again. I cannot desire that you should
_un_ask Violin and Flute, unless a postponement would be in every way
as agreeable to you and them. If you have them, you will give them
much more pleasure as Piano than I, so do not think of me in the
matter for a moment. Good-bye; and remember to treat your cold as if
it were an orphan's cold, or a widow's cold, or any one's cold but
your own.
The following is the letter before referred to as containing
an important and noteworthy declaration of opinion on the
very interesting question of conformity:
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, 9th Oct. 1843.]
The first thing I have to say to you is to entreat that you and Mrs.
Hennell will not perplex yourselves for a moment about my
accommodation during the night. I am so well now that a hearthrug
would be as luxurious a couch as I should need, and I defy anything
short of a kettledrum or my conscience to keep me awake after a long
day.
The subject of your conversation with Miss D---- is a very important
one, and worth an essay. I will not now inflict one of mine on you,
but I will tell you, as briefly as possible, my present opinion, which
you know is contrary to the one I held in the first instance. I am
inclined to think that such a change of sentiment is likely to happen
to most persons whose views on religious matters undergo a change
early in life. The first impulse of a young and ingenuous mind is to
withhold the slightest sanction from all that contains even a mixture
of supposed error. When the soul is just liberated from the wretched
giant's bed of dogmas on which it has been racked and stretched ever
since it began to think, there is a feeling of exultation and strong
hope. We think we shall run well when we have the full use of our
limbs and the bracing air of independence, and we believe that we
shall soon obtain something positive, which will not only more than
compensate us for what we have renounced, but will be so well worth
offering to others that we may venture to proselytize as fast as our
zeal for truth may prompt us. But a year or two of reflection, and the
experience of our own miserable weakness, which will ill afford to
part even with the crutch of superstition, must, I think, effect a
change. Speculative truth begins to appear but a shadow of individual
minds. Agreement between intellects seems unattainable, and we turn to
the _truth of feeling_ as the only universal bond of union. We find
that the intellectual errors which we once fancied were a mere
incrustation have grown into the living body, and that we cannot, in
the majority of cases, wrench them away without destroying vitality.
We begin to find that with individuals, as with nations, the only safe
revolution is one arising out of the wants which their own progress
has generated. It is the quackery of infidelity to suppose that it has
a nostrum for all mankind, and to say to all and singular, "Swallow my
opinions and you shall be whole." If, then, we are debarred by such
considerations from trying to reorganize opinions, are we to remain
aloof from our fellow-creatures on occasions when we may fully
sympathize with the feelings exercised, although our own have been
melted into another mould? Ought we not on every opportunity to seek
to have our feelings in harmony, though not in union, with those who
are often richer in the fruits of faith, though not in reason, than
ourselves? The results of nonconformity in a family are just an
epitome of what happens on a larger scale in the world. An influential
member chooses to omit an observance which, in the minds of all the
rest, is associated with what is highest and most venerable. He cannot
make his reasons intelligible, and so his conduct is regarded as a
relaxation of the hold that moral ties had on him previously. The rest
are infected with the disease they imagine in him. All the screws by
which order was maintained are loosened, and in more than one case a
person's happiness may be ruined by the confusion of ideas which took
the form of principles. But, it may be said, how then are we to do
anything towards the advancement of mankind? Are we to go on
cherishing superstitions out of a fear that seems inconsistent with
any faith in a Supreme Being? I think the best and the only way of
fulfilling our mission is to sow good seed in good (_i.e._, prepared)
ground, and not to root up tares where we must inevitably gather all
the wheat with them. We cannot fight and struggle enough for freedom
of inquiry, and we need not be idle in imparting all that is pure and
lovely to children whose minds are unbespoken. Those who can write,
let them do it as boldly as they like; and let no one hesitate at
proper seasons to make a full _con_fession (far better than
_pro_fession). St. Paul's reasoning about the conduct of the strong
towards the weak, in the fourteenth and fifteenth chapters of Romans,
is just in point. But I have not said half what I meant to say. There
are so many aspects in which the subject might be presented that it is
useless to attempt to exhaust it. I fear I have written very
unintelligibly, for it is rather late, and I am so cold that my
thoughts are almost frozen.
After Miss Brabant's marriage to Mr. Charles Hennell, Miss
Evans went to stay for a week or two with Dr. Brabant at
Devizes, and some time about the beginning of January, 1844,
the proposition was made for the transfer of the translation
of Strauss from Mrs. Charles Hennell. At the end of April,
1844, Mrs. Bray writes to Miss Sara Hennell that Miss Evans
is "working away at Strauss six pages a day," and the next
letter from Miss Evans refers to the beginning of the
undertaking.
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, Sunday, May, 1844.]
To begin with business, I send you on the other side the translations
you wished (Strauss), but they are perhaps no improvements on what you
had done. I shall be very glad to learn from you the particulars as to
the mode of publication--who are the parties that will find the funds,
and whether the manuscripts are to be put into the hands of any one
when complete, or whether they are to go directly from me to the
publishers? I was very foolish not to imagine about these things in
the first instance, but ways and means are always afterthoughts with
me.
You will soon be settled and enjoying the blessed spring and summer
time. I hope you are looking forward to it with as much delight as I.
One has to spend so many years in learning how to be happy. I am just
beginning to make some progress in the science, and I hope to disprove
Young's theory that "as soon as we have found the key of life it opes
the gates of death." Every year strips us of at least one vain
expectation, and teaches us to reckon some solid good in its stead. I
never will believe that our youngest days are our happiest. What a
miserable augury for the progress of the race and the destination of
the individual if the more matured and enlightened state is the less
happy one! Childhood is only the beautiful and happy time in
contemplation and retrospect: to the child it is full of deep sorrows,
the meaning of which is unknown. Witness colic and whooping-cough and
dread of ghosts, to say nothing of hell and Satan, and an offended
Deity in the sky, who was angry when I wanted too much plumcake. Then
the sorrows of older persons, which children see but cannot
understand, are worse than all. All this to prove that we are happier
than when we were seven years old, and that we shall be happier when
we are forty than we are now, which I call a comfortable doctrine, and
one worth trying to believe! I am sitting with father, who every now
and then jerks off my attention to the history of Queen Elizabeth,
which he is reading.
On the 1st July, 1844, there was another little trip with the
Brays to the Cumberland lakes, this time returning by
Manchester and Liverpool; and on reaching home, about the
beginning of August, there is the following letter:
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, Friday, Aug. 1844.]
Can I have the remaining volumes of Strauss, excepting any part that
you may choose to keep for your own use? If you could also send me
such parts of the introduction and first section as you wish me to
look over, I should like to despatch that business at intervals, when
I am not inspired for more thorough labor. Thank you for the
encouragement you sent me. I only need it when my head is weak and I
am unable to do much. Then I sicken at the idea of having Strauss in
my head and on my hands for a lustrum, instead of saying good-bye to
him in a year. When I can work fast I am never weary, nor do I regret
either that the work has been begun or that I have undertaken it. I am
only inclined to vow that I will never translate again, if I live to
correct the sheets for Strauss. My first page is 257.
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, 31st Oct. 1844.]
Pray tell Mrs. C. Hennell that no apology was needed for the very good
translation she has sent me. I shall be glad to avail myself of it to
the last word, for I am thoroughly tired of my own garb for Strauss's
thoughts. I hope the introduction, etc., will be ready by the end of
November, when I hope to have put the last words to the first volume.
I am awfully afraid of my own translation, and I want you to come and
comfort me. I am relapsing into heathen darkness about everything but
Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. "Heaven has sent leanness into my
soul"--for reviling them, I suppose. This lovely autumn! Have you
enjoyed its long shadows and fresh breezes?
[Sidenote: Letter to Mrs. Bray, end of 1844.]
I do not think it was kind to Strauss (I knew he was handsome) to tell
him that a young lady was translating his book. I am sure he must have
some twinges of alarm to think he was dependent on that most
contemptible specimen of the human being for his English reputation.
By the way, I never said that the Canons of the Council of Nice, or
the Confession of Augsburg, or even the Thirty-nine Articles, are
suggestive of poetry. I imagine no _dogmas_ can be. But surely
Christianity, with its Hebrew retrospect and millennial hopes, the
heroism and divine sorrow of its founder, and all its glorious army of
martyrs, might supply, and has supplied, a strong impulse not only to
poetry, but to all the Fine Arts. Mr. Pears is coming home from
Malvern to-night, and the children are coming to tea with me, so that
I have to make haste with my afternoon matters. Beautiful little Susan
has been blowing bubbles, and looking like an angel at sport. I am
quite happy, only sometimes feeling "the weight of all this
unintelligible world."
[Sidenote: Letter to Mrs. Bray, Sunday, beginning of 1845.]
Your books are come for the school, and I have covered them--at least
those that I think you will like for the children; two or three are
quite for grown-up people. What an exquisite little thing that is of
Harriet Martineau's--"The Crofton Boys"! I have had some delightful
crying over it. There are two or three lines in it that would feed
one's soul for a month. Hugh's mother says to him, speaking of people
who have permanent sorrow, "They soon had a new and delicious
pleasure, which none but the bitterly disappointed can feel--the
pleasure of rousing their souls to bear pain, and of _agreeing with
God silently_, when nobody knows what is in their hearts." I received
"Sybil" yesterday quite safely. I am not utterly disgusted with
D'Israeli. The man hath good veins, as Bacon would say, but there is
not enough blood in them.
The 17th April this year was an interesting day, as Miss
Evans went with the Brays to Atherstone Hall, and met Harriet
Martineau for the first time. It will be seen that in later
years there was considerable intimacy between them.
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, 29th April, 1845.]
If you think any of my future manuscript too untidy for the printer,
only mark it to that effect, and I will rewrite it, for I do not mind
that mechanical work; and my conscience is rather uneasy lest the
illegibility of my hand should increase materially the expense of the
publication. Do not be alarmed because I am not well just now: I shall
be better very soon, and I am not really disgusted with Strauss. I
only fancy so sometimes, as I do with all earthly things.
In June Mrs. Bray writes to Miss Hennell that Miss Evans
"looks all the better of her London trip. I never saw her so
blooming and buoyant;" but the two next letters show a
relapse.
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, end of June, (?) 1845.]
Glad am I that some one can enjoy Strauss! The million certainly will
not, and I have ceased to sit down to him with any relish. I should
work much better if I had some proof-sheets coming in to assure me
that my soul-stupefying labor is not in vain. I am more grateful to
you than I can tell you for taking the trouble you do. If it had not
been for your interest and encouragement I should have been almost in
despair by this time.
And again, a little later:
I begin utterly to despair that Strauss will ever be published, unless
I can imitate the Rev. Mr. Davis, and print it myself. At the very
best, if we go on according to the rate of procedure hitherto, the
book will not be published within the next two years. This seems
dolorous enough to me, whose only real satisfaction just now is some
hope that I am not sowing the wind. It is very laughable that I should
be irritated about a thing in itself so trifling as a translation, but
it is the very triviality of the thing that makes delays provoking.
The difficulties that attend a really grand undertaking are to be
borne, but things should run smoothly and fast when they are not
important enough to demand the sacrifice of one's whole soul. The
second volume is quite ready. The last few sections were written under
anything but favorable circumstances. They are not Strauss's best
thoughts, nor are they put into his translator's best language; but I
have not courage to imitate Gibbon--put my work in the fire and begin
again.
In July, 1845, there seems to have arisen some difficulty in
getting in the cash subscriptions for the publication. Mr.
Charles Hennell and Mr. Joseph Parkes, however, exerted
themselves in the matter, and £300 was collected, and the
following letter shows the relief it was to Miss Evans:
[Sidenote: Letter to Charles Hennell, Friday evening, July, 1845.]
Thank you for sending me the good news so soon, and for sympathizing
in my need of encouragement. I have all I want now, and shall go
forward on buoyant wing. I am glad for the work's sake, glad for your
sake, and glad for "the honorable gentleman's" sake, that matters have
turned out so well. Pray think no more of my pens, ink, and paper. I
would gladly give much more towards the work than these and my
English, if I could do so consistently with duty.
The book now got into the hands of the printers, as will be
seen from the next letter:
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, Aug. 1845.]
I have just been looking over some of the _revise_, and reading again
your sweet letter to me from Hastings, and an impulse of gratitude
and love will not let me rest without writing you a little note,
though my hand has almost done its possible for the day under this
intense heat. You do not guess how much pleasure it gives me to look
over your pencillings, they prove so clearly that you have really
entered into the meaning of every sentence, and it always gives one
satisfaction to see the evidence of brain-work. I am quite indebted to
you for your care, and I feel greatly the advantage of having a friend
to undertake the office of critic. There is one word I must
mention--Azazel is the word put in the original of the Old Testament
for the scapegoat: now I imagine there is some dubiousness about the
meaning, and that Strauss would not think it right to translate
_scapegoat_, because, from the tenor of his sentence, he appears to
include Azazel with the evil demons. I wonder if it be supposed by any
one that Azazel is in any way a distinct being from the goat. I know
no Hebrew scholar, and have access to no Hebrew lexicon. Have you
asked Mr. Hennell about it?
Your letter describes what I _have_ felt rather than what I feel. It
seems as if my affections were quietly sinking down to temperate, and
I every day seem more and more to value thought rather than feeling. I
do not think this is man's best estate, but it is better than what I
have sometimes known.
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, Friday evening, autumn of
1845.]
I am not ashamed to confess that I should like to be idle with you for
a little while, more than anything else I can think of just now. But,
alas! leathery brain must work at leathery Strauss for a short time
before my butterfly days come. O, how I shall spread my wings then!
Anent the Greek, it would produce very dreadful cold perspirations
indeed in me, if there were anything amounting to a serious error,
but this, I trust, there will not be. You must really expect me, if
not to sleep and snore _aliquando_, at least to nod in the course of
some thousand pages. I should like you to be deliberate over the
_Schluss Abhandlung_. It is the only part on which I have bestowed
much pains, for the difficulty was _piquing_, not piquant.
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, no date, 1845.]
I am never pained when I think Strauss right; but in many cases I
think him wrong, as every man must be in working out into detail an
idea which has general truth, but is only one element in a perfect
theory--not a perfect theory in itself.
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, 25th Sept. 1845.]
I am delighted with the proof. The type and everything else are just
what I wished. To see the first sheet is the next best thing to seeing
the last, which I hope we shall all have done this time next year.
There is a very misty vision of a trip to the Highlands haunting us in
this quarter. The vision would be much pleasanter if Sara were one of
the images in it. You would surely go if we went, and then the thing
would be perfect. I long to see you, for you are becoming a sort of
transfigured existence, a mere ideal to me, and I have nothing to tell
me of your real flesh-and-blood self but sundry very useful little
pencil-marks, and a scrap of Mrs. Bray's notes now and then. So, if
you would have me bear in my memory your own self, and not some aerial
creation that I call by your name, you must make your appearance.
In October "the misty vision" took palpable shape, and the
Brays, Miss Hennell, and Miss Evans had a delightful
fortnight in Scotland, visiting Loch Lomond and Loch Katrine,
The Trossachs, Stirling, Edinburgh, Melrose, and Abbotsford.
They were away from the 14th to the 28th, and on returning to
Coventry Strauss was taken up again. Miss Hennell was reading
the translation, and aiding with suggestions and corrections.
The next letter to her seems to be dated in November.
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, Nov. 1845.]
Please to tell Mr. Hennell that "habits of thought" is not a
translation of the word _particularismus_. This does not mean national
idiosyncrasy, but is a word which characterizes that idiosyncrasy. If
he decidedly objects to particularism, ask him to be so good as
substitute _exclusiveness_, though there is a shade of meaning in
_particularismus_ which even that does not express. It was because the
word could only be translated by a circumlocution that I ventured to
Anglicize it.
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, Tuesday morning, Dec. (?)
1845.]
I have been idle, and have not done a stroke to the prefaces, but they
shall be sent as soon as possible. Thanks for the copy of the Latin
preface and letter. They are in preconceived harmony with my ideas of
the appropriate.
I will leave the titlepage to you and Mr. Hennell. Thanks for the news
in your last _extra Blatt_. I am glad to find that the theological
organs are beginning to deal with philosophy, but I can hardly imagine
your writer to be a friend with a false cognizance on his shield.
These dear orthodox people talk so simply sometimes that one cannot
help fancying them satirists of their own doctrines and fears, though
they mean manfully to fight against the enemy. I should like if
possible to throw the emphasis on _critically_ in the titlepage.
Strauss means it to be so: and yet I do not know how we can put
anything better than what you say.
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, Dec. 1845.]
I send you to-day the conclusion of the chapter you are reading, and,
unless you find anything of importance to be rectified, you need not
return this to me, but may forward the whole to the printer as soon as
you have read it. I am not altogether satisfied with the use of the
word sacrament as applied specifically to the _Abendmahl_. It seems
like a vulgarism to say _the_ sacrament for one thing, and for another
it does not seem _ab_original enough in the life of Jesus; but I know
of no other word that can be substituted. I have altered passover to
paschal meal, but [Greek: tho pascha] is used in the New Testament of
the eating of the lamb _par excellence_. You remember, in the title of
the first section in the _Schluss_--which I had been so careless as to
omit--the expression is "Nothwendiger Uebergang der Kritik in das
Dogma." Now, dogmatism will not do, as that would represent
_Dogmatismus_. "Dogmatik" is the idea, I believe--_i.e._, positive
theology. Is it allowable to say _dogmatics_, think you? I do not
understand how the want of manuscript can be so pressing, as I have
only had one proof for the last fortnight. It seems quite dispiriting
to me now not to see the proofs regularly. I have had a miserable week
of headache, but am better now, and ready for work, to which I must
go.
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, 1st Jan. 1846.]
I do pity you, with the drunken Christmas workmen keeping you in this
uncomfortable interregnum. But do not go distraught; the spring will
really come and the birds--many having had to fly across the Atlantic,
which is farther than you have to go to establish yourself. I could
easily give the meaning of the Hebrew word in question, as I know
where to borrow a lexicon. But observe, there are two Hebrew words
untranslated in this proof. I do not think it will do to give the
English in one place and not in another, where there is no reason for
such a distinction, and there is not here, for the note in this proof
sounds just as fee-fo-fum-ish as the other without any translation. I
could not alter the "troublesome," because it is the nearest usable
adjective for _schwierig_, which stands in the German. I am tired of
inevitable _importants_, and cannot bear to put them when they do not
represent the German.
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, 26th Jan. 1846.]
I have been sadly occupied for the last ten days. My father has been
ill, and has required much attention, and my own head was very
middling for some days, so that I send you but a poor cargo of new
manuscript. Indeed, on looking through the last quire of paper this
morning for the purpose of putting in the Greek, it seemed all very
poor to me, but the subject is by no means inspiring, and no muse
would condescend to visit such an uncertain votary as I have been for
the last week or so. How is it that I have only had one proof this
week? You know we are five hundred pages in advance of the printer, so
you need not be dreadfully alarmed. I have been so pleased to hear
some of your letters read to me, but, alas! I can reflect no pleasure
at this moment, for I have a woful pain and am in a desperate hurry.
On 14th February, 1846, Mrs. Bray writes to Miss Sara Hennell
that Miss Evans "says she is Strauss-sick--it makes her ill
dissecting the beautiful story of the Crucifixion, and only
the sight of the Christ-image[19] and picture make her endure
it. Moreover, as her work advances nearer its public
appearance, she grows dreadfully nervous. Poor thing, I do
pity her sometimes, with her pale, sickly face and dreadful
headaches, and anxiety, too, about her father. This illness
of his has tried her so much, for all the time she had for
rest and fresh air she had to read to him. Nevertheless, she
looks very happy and satisfied sometimes in her work."
And about the end of February there is the following letter
from Miss Evans:
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, end of Feb. 1846.]
Health and greeting, my Achates, in this veritable spring month. I
shall send you a parcel on Monday with sixty-four new pages of German
for your intellectual man. The next parcel, which will be the LAST, I
shall send on the Monday following, and when you have read to the end,
you may, if you think it desirable, send the whole to me. Your dull
ass does not mend his pace for beating; but he _does_ mend it when he
finds out that he is near his journey's end, and makes you wonder how
he could pretend to find all the previous drawing so hard for him. I
plead guilty to having set off in a regular scamper: but be lenient
and do not scold me if you find all sorts of carelessnesses in these
last hundred pages.
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, end of Feb. 1846.]
I have been guilty of the most unpardonable piece of carelessness, for
which I am stretched on a rack of anxiety and mortification. In the
proof that came on Thursday I unwittingly drew out a quarter sheet
with the blotting-paper, and did not discover the mistake until
Saturday morning, when about to correct the last proof. Surely the
printer would discover the absence of the four pages and wait for
them--otherwise I would rather have lost one of my fingers, or all the
hair from my head, than have committed such a _faux pas_. For there
were three very awkward blunders to be corrected. All this vexation
makes a cold and headache doubly intolerable, and I am in a most
purgatorial state on this "good Sunday." I shall send the proofs, with
the unfortunate quarter sheet and an explanation, to-night to Mr.
Chapman, and prithee do thou inquire and see that the right thing is
done. The tears are streaming from my smarting eyes--so farewell.
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, Mch. 1846.]
I wish we could get the book out in May--why not? I suppose the
binding could not be all got through--the printing and writing I
should think might be managed in time. Shouldn't I like to fleet the
time away with thee as they did in the Golden Age--after all our toils
to lie reclined on the hills (spiritually), like gods together,
careless of mankind. Sooth to speak, idleness, and idleness with thee,
is just the most tempting mirage you could raise before my mind's
eye--I say mirage, because I am determined from henceforth to believe
in no substantiality for future time, but to live in and love the
present--of which I have done too little. Still, the thought of being
with you in your own home will attract me to that future; for without
all controversy I love thee and miss thee.
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, Mch. 1846.]
My soul kisses thee, dear Sara, in gratitude for those dewy thoughts
of thine in this morning's note. My poor adust soul wants such
refreshment. Continue to do me good--hoping for nothing again. I have
had my sister with me all day--an interruption, alas! I cannot write
more, but I should not be happy to let the day pass without saying one
word to thee.
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, Mch. 1846.]
The last hundred pages have certainly been totally uninteresting to
me, considered as matter for translation. Strauss has inevitably
anticipated in the earlier part of his work all the principles and
many of the details of his criticism, and he seems fagged himself.
_Mais courage!_ the neck of the difficulty is broken, and there is
really very little to be done now. If one's head would but keep in
anything like thinking and writing order! Mine has robbed me of half
the last fortnight; but I am a little better now, and am saying to
myself _Frisch zu!_ The Crucifixion and the Resurrection are, at all
events, better than the bursting asunder of Judas. I am afraid I have
not made this dull part of Strauss even as tolerable as it might be,
for both body and mind have recoiled from it. Thank you, dearest, for
all your love and patience for me and with me. I have nothing on earth
to complain of but subjective maladies. Father is pretty well, and I
have not a single excuse for discontent through the livelong day.
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, end of Mch. 1846.]
As I believe that even your kindness cannot overcome your sincerity, I
will cast aside my fear that your wish to see me in your own home is
rather a plan for my enjoyment than for yours. I believe it would be
an unmixed pleasure to me to be your visitor, and one that I would
choose among a whole bouquet of agreeable possibilities; so I will
indulge myself, and accept the good that the heavens and you offer me.
I am miserably in want of you to stir up my soul and make it shake its
wings, and begin some kind of flight after something good and noble,
for I am in a grovelling, slothful condition, and you are the _only_
friend I possess who has an animating influence over me. I have
written to Mr. Hennell anent the titlepage, and have voted for
_critically examined_, from an entire conviction of its
preferableness.
[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, beginning of April, 1846.]
See what it is to have a person _en rapport_ with you, that knows all
your thoughts without the trouble of communication! I am especially
grateful to you for restoring the "therefore" to its right place. I
was about to write to you to get you to remonstrate about this and the
"dispassionate calmness," which I did not at all like; but I thought
you had corrected the prefaces, as the marks against the Latin looked
like yours, so I determined to indulge my _laissez-faire_
inclinations, for I hate stickling and debating unless it be for
something really important. I do really like reading our Strauss--he
is so _klar und ideenvoll_; but I do not know _one_ person who is
likely to read the book through--do you? Next week we will be merry
and sad, wise and nonsensical, devout and wicked, together.
On 19th April, 1846, Mrs. Bray writes to Miss Hennell that
Miss Evans is "as happy as you may imagine at her work being
done. She means to come and read Shakespeare through to us as
her first enjoyment." And again, on 27th April, that she "is
delighted beyond measure with Strauss's elegant preface. It
is just what she likes. And what a nice letter too! The Latin
is quite beyond me, but the letter shows how neatly he can
express himself."
_SUMMARY._
MARCH, 1841, TO APRIL, 1846.
Foleshill--New friends--Mrs. Pears--Coventry life and
engagements--Letters to Miss Lewis--Brother's
marriage--Mental depression--Reading Nichol's "Architecture
of the Heavens and Phenomena of the Solar System"--Makes
acquaintance with Mr. and Mrs. Bray--Reads Charles Hennell's
book, "An Inquiry Concerning the Origin of
Christianity"--Effect of this book--Gives up going to
church--Family difficulties--Letters to Mrs. Pears--Visit to
Griff--Returns to Foleshill and resumes going to
church--Acquaintance with Miss Sara Hennell, and development
of friendship with her and Mr. and Mrs. Bray--Letters to Miss
Sara Hennell describing mental characteristics--Attitude
towards immortality--Death of Miss Mary Hennell--Excursion
with the Brays, Mr. Charles Hennell, and Miss Hennell to
Stratford and Malvern, and to Tenby with same party and Miss
Brabant--Meets Robert Owen--Studies German and music with
Mrs. Bray--Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, with important
declaration of opinion in regard to conformity--Mr. Charles
Hennell's marriage--Stay with Dr. Brabant at
Devizes--Arrangement for translation of Strauss's "Leben
Jesu"--Excursion with Brays to the Cumberland lakes,
returning by Manchester and Liverpool--Weary of
Strauss--Letter to Mrs. Bray--Poetry of
Christianity--Admiration of Harriet Martineau's "The Crofton
Boys"--Trip to London--Despair about publication of
Strauss--Subscription of £300 for the work--In better
heart--Minutiæ of Strauss translation--Pains taken with the
_Schluss Abhandlung_--Opinion of Strauss's work--The book in
print--Trip to the Highlands--Strauss difficulties--Miss
Hennell reads the translation and makes
suggestions--Suffering from headaches and "Strauss-sick"--The
last MS. of the translation sent to Miss Hennell--Joy at
finishing--Delighted with Strauss's Preface.
FOOTNOTES:
[17] Brother's marriage.
[18] Miss Mary Hennell was the author of "An Outline of the Various
Social Systems founded on the Principle of Co-operation," published in
1841.
[19] This was an ivory image she had of the Crucified Christ over the
desk in her study at Foleshill, where she did all her work at that
time--a little room on the first floor, with a charming view over the
country.