GE to Mrs. Abijah Hill Pears, Griff, [31 March 1842]
Title
GE to Mrs. Abijah Hill Pears, Griff, [31 March 1842]
Title
GE to Mrs. Abijah Hill Pears, Griff, [31 March 1842]
Sender
George Eliot
Recipient
Mrs. Abijah Hill Pears
Date(s)
- 1842-03-31
Place
GRIFF
Letter Content
GE to Mrs. Abijah Hill Pears, Griff, [31 March 1842]
Text: From a copy, Tinker Collection, Yale. Mostly published: Cross, I, 110-113.
Griff. Thursday.
My dear Mrs. Pears,
I have just been climbing up some favourite 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 goodbye, 419 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 gratifying 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 neighbourhood 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 inherent, 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 delights, 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 -- unless we have a peace whose munitions are not to be shaken by the small artillery of circumstances, we may begin our self-catechizing afresh.
All this is self-reproof and is so intended, for 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 expect the ancient difficulty of being compelled to worm out the intentions of others. I can only learn that my Father has commenced his alterations at Packington, 420 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 tomorrow, 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 like 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. Tell me if you have great trouble in making out my cabalistic letters; if you have, I will write more deliberately next time. Love to Mr. Pears and your good, sweet, little self, from
Your ever true,
Mary Ann Evans.
Text: From a copy, Tinker Collection, Yale. Mostly published: Cross, I, 110-113.
Griff. Thursday.
My dear Mrs. Pears,
I have just been climbing up some favourite 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 goodbye, 419 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 gratifying 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 neighbourhood 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 inherent, 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 delights, 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 -- unless we have a peace whose munitions are not to be shaken by the small artillery of circumstances, we may begin our self-catechizing afresh.
All this is self-reproof and is so intended, for 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 expect the ancient difficulty of being compelled to worm out the intentions of others. I can only learn that my Father has commenced his alterations at Packington, 420 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 tomorrow, 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 like 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. Tell me if you have great trouble in making out my cabalistic letters; if you have, I will write more deliberately next time. Love to Mr. Pears and your good, sweet, little self, from
Your ever true,
Mary Ann Evans.
Signature
Mary Ann Evans.
Citation
George Eliot, GE to Mrs. Abijah Hill Pears, Griff, [31 March 1842], Complete George Eliot Letters(2026), George Eliot Archive, edited by Beverley Park Rilett. https://GeorgeEliotArchive.org, Accessed September 7, 2026. https://www.georgeeliotarchive.org/items/show/93188