................................................................................................
................................................................................................
The Essays of "George Eliot", Complete.
................................................................................................
................................................................................................
From the Note-Book of an Eccentric,
and Other Essays,
by George Eliot.
................................................................................................
................................................................................................
How to Avoid Disappointment.
................................................................................................
................................................................................................
Inappropriate, (- or deliberately unassuming, low-key? -), title.
................................................................................................
One suspected the previous piece of being a satire or a spoof, and the rest of essays to follow the theme - but this opens differently -
"One of my favourite lounges in Paris is the studio of an artist, who tolerates my presence on the score of a slight service which I happened to render him some years ago, and which he magnifies into a lasting claim on his gratitude. I soon acquire an almost passionate interest in the progress of a noble picture. I love to think how the perfect whole exists in the imagination of the artist before his pencil has marked the canvas—to observe how every minute stroke, every dismal-looking layer of colour conduces to the ultimate effect, and how completely the creative genius which has conceived the result can calculate the necessary means. I love to watch the artist’s eye, so wrapt and unworldly in its glance, scrupulously attentive to the details of his actual labour, yet keeping ever in view the idea which that labour is to fulfil. I say to myself—this is an image of what our life should be—a series of efforts directed to the production of a contemplated whole, just as every stroke of the artist’s pencil has a purpose bearing on the conception which he retains in his mind’s eye. We should all be painting our picture, whether it be a home scene after Wilkie, a Paul preaching at Athens, or a Brutus passing sentence on his son. We should all have a purpose in life as perfectly recognised and definite as the painter’s idea of his subject. ... "
and after a - not unexpected - swift swoop down of a sharp beak of satire, taking a bite off the head of the worldly -
" ... “Indisputably,” says your man of the world, “I have never for a moment swerved from the determination to make myself rich and respectable. I chose my wife with that object; I send my sons to the University, I give dinners, I go to balls, I go to church—all that I may be ‘respectable.’ Am not I a man of purpose?” Then there is the man of public spirit, who has devoted his life to some pet project, which is to be the grand catholicon for all the diseases of society. He has travelled, he has lectured, he has canvassed, he has moved heaven and earth, has become the victim of a fixed idea, and died disappointed."
- soars very unexpectedly into a purely spiritual realm -
"Doubtless such men as these have a distinct purpose in life, but they are not the men of whom my artist reminds me—who seem to me to be painting a picture. The kind of purpose which makes life resemble a work of art in its isolated majesty or loveliness is not the attempt to satisfy that inconvenient troop of wants which metamorphose themselves like the sprites of an enchantress, so that no sooner have we provided food for the linnet’s beak than a huge lion’s maw gapes upon us. It is to live, not for our friends, not for those hostages to fortune, wives and children; not for any individual, any specific form; but for something which, while it dwells in these, has an existence beyond them. It is to live for the good, the true, the beautiful, which outlive every generation and are all-pervading as the light which vibrates from the remotest nebula to our own sun. The spirit which has ascertained its true relation to these can never be an orphan: it has its home in the eternal mind, from which neither things present nor to come can separate it. You may infallibly discern the man who lives thus. His eye has not that restless, irresolute glance which tells of no purpose beyond the present hour: it looks as you might imagine the eye of Numa to have looked after an interview with Egeria; the earnest attention and veneration with which it gazed on the divine instructress still lingering in its expression."
- way higher than expected from anyone who was normally so bound to her roots, of a religion so dominated by institutions, as this author.
It ends flat, way down -
"I said one day to my artist, when he was ardently engaged on a favourite picture, “Adolphe, has your love of art ever been tested by any great misfortune?” He replied, “I have suffered—I am suffering under a great calamity; not the blighting of ambition, not the loss of any loved one, but a far more withering sorrow; I have ceased to love the being whom I once believed that I must love while life lasted. I have cherished what I thought was a bright amethyst, and I have seen it losing its lustre day by day till I can no longer delude myself into a belief that it is not valueless. But you see,” said he, turning to me and smiling, “I love my pictures still; I should not like to die till I have worked up my chosen subjects.”
"Who would not have some purpose in life as independent in its value as art is to the artist?"
- but it's less disappointing than it could have been from a higher consciousness, and a culture that could nourish it.
Few can assure of that.
................................................................................................
................................................................................................
................................................
................................................
September 27, 2021 - September 27, 2021.
................................................
................................................
................................................................................................
................................................................................................
................................................................................................
................................................................................................
................................................................................................
................................................................................................
