GE to Maria Lewis, Griff, 5 December 1840
Title
GE to Maria Lewis, Griff, 5 December 1840
Title
GE to Maria Lewis, Griff, 5 December 1840
Sender
George Eliot
Recipient
Maria Lewis
Date(s)
- 1840-12-05
Place
GRIFF
Letter Content
GE to Maria Lewis, Griff, 5 December 1840
MS: Yale. Address: Miss Lewis | The Revd L. Harper's | Burton Latimer | near Kettering | Northamptonshire. Postmark: COVENTRY | DE 5 | 1840. Extracts published: Cross, I, 79.
Griff | December 5. 1840.
My dear Veronica,
You have thought me long I conjecture in sending a reply to your question as to the time you should commence your [progress] according to the style of yore, flight in these our days, when nothing is slow but virtuous emotion. Come when you would best like to do so -- if my heart beat at all at the time, it will be with a more rapid motion than the general from the joy of seeing you. I cannot promise you more than calmness when that flush is past, for I am aweary, aweary -- longing for rest, which seems to fly from my very anticipations. But this wrought up sensitiveness which makes me shrink from all contact, is I know not for communication or sympathy, and is from that very character a kind of trial best suited for me. I doubt not you have imbibed Mr. Keble's sweet hymn beginning [Why should we faint] etc. 273 and the one preceding. They are just what I would have them, and seem prophetically adapted to my wants. Those purifying fires that burn within, unseen, and misapprehended, if described -- those are the most effective, and while they gradually purge the spirit from its dross, wear out its earthly tabernacle. 274 I cannot refrain from writing some lines of Mrs. Hemans's, very pet lines of mine. The dead! The only beautiful who change no more! The only loved! The dwellers on the shore Of spring fulfilled. The dead! whom call we so? They that breathe purer air, that feel, that know Things wrapt from us! Away! within me pent That which is barr'd from its own element Still droops or struggles -- but the hour will come; Over the deep the free bird finds its home, And the stream lingers mid the rocks, but greets The sea at last -- and the wing'd flower seed meets A soil to rest in -- shall not I too be 275 . . . up home.
But these lines beautiful as they are, have not the living power of the promise "Thine eyes shall see the king in his beauty, they shall behold the land that is very far off." 276 In proportion as the things present and tangible are the guide of men's actions they are pronounced wise in their generation by the children of this world; 277 in proportion as the things impalpable to sense, but possessing substance to the perceptions of faith are at once the basis of our life and its sustenance, we shall take our rank among those wise ones who shall shine as the sun. 278 Whatever tends to render us ill contented with ourselves and more earnest aspirants after perfect truth and goodness is gold, though it come to us all molten and burning, and we know not our treasure until we have had long smarting. Who would not take to sea in an open boat and endure all the tossings and the gusts rather than remain in a lightning struck ship, however splendid, soon to be utterly consumed?
The Bazaar by the bye will it is said take place in January. Thank you for the pretty anecdote you sent me. Write to me soon and tell me when I shall see you. I am overtaken by twilight and must say goodbye.
Ever your affectionate
Clematis.
MS: Yale. Address: Miss Lewis | The Revd L. Harper's | Burton Latimer | near Kettering | Northamptonshire. Postmark: COVENTRY | DE 5 | 1840. Extracts published: Cross, I, 79.
Griff | December 5. 1840.
My dear Veronica,
You have thought me long I conjecture in sending a reply to your question as to the time you should commence your [progress] according to the style of yore, flight in these our days, when nothing is slow but virtuous emotion. Come when you would best like to do so -- if my heart beat at all at the time, it will be with a more rapid motion than the general from the joy of seeing you. I cannot promise you more than calmness when that flush is past, for I am aweary, aweary -- longing for rest, which seems to fly from my very anticipations. But this wrought up sensitiveness which makes me shrink from all contact, is I know not for communication or sympathy, and is from that very character a kind of trial best suited for me. I doubt not you have imbibed Mr. Keble's sweet hymn beginning [Why should we faint] etc. 273 and the one preceding. They are just what I would have them, and seem prophetically adapted to my wants. Those purifying fires that burn within, unseen, and misapprehended, if described -- those are the most effective, and while they gradually purge the spirit from its dross, wear out its earthly tabernacle. 274 I cannot refrain from writing some lines of Mrs. Hemans's, very pet lines of mine. The dead! The only beautiful who change no more! The only loved! The dwellers on the shore Of spring fulfilled. The dead! whom call we so? They that breathe purer air, that feel, that know Things wrapt from us! Away! within me pent That which is barr'd from its own element Still droops or struggles -- but the hour will come; Over the deep the free bird finds its home, And the stream lingers mid the rocks, but greets The sea at last -- and the wing'd flower seed meets A soil to rest in -- shall not I too be 275 . . . up home.
But these lines beautiful as they are, have not the living power of the promise "Thine eyes shall see the king in his beauty, they shall behold the land that is very far off." 276 In proportion as the things present and tangible are the guide of men's actions they are pronounced wise in their generation by the children of this world; 277 in proportion as the things impalpable to sense, but possessing substance to the perceptions of faith are at once the basis of our life and its sustenance, we shall take our rank among those wise ones who shall shine as the sun. 278 Whatever tends to render us ill contented with ourselves and more earnest aspirants after perfect truth and goodness is gold, though it come to us all molten and burning, and we know not our treasure until we have had long smarting. Who would not take to sea in an open boat and endure all the tossings and the gusts rather than remain in a lightning struck ship, however splendid, soon to be utterly consumed?
The Bazaar by the bye will it is said take place in January. Thank you for the pretty anecdote you sent me. Write to me soon and tell me when I shall see you. I am overtaken by twilight and must say goodbye.
Ever your affectionate
Clematis.
Signature
Clematis.
Citation
George Eliot, GE to Maria Lewis, Griff, 5 December 1840, Complete George Eliot Letters(2026), George Eliot Archive, edited by Beverley Park Rilett. https://GeorgeEliotArchive.org, Accessed September 7, 2026. https://georgeeliotarchive.org/items/show/92915