Chapter V · (continued 2)

My health is better. I had got into a labyrinth of headaches and palpitations, but I think I am out of it now, and I hope to keep well. I am not the less obliged to you, dear Fanny, for wishing to have me with you. But to leave London now would not be agreeable to me, even if it were morally possible. To see you again would certainly be a pleasure, but I hope that will come to pass without my crossing the Irish Channel.

Letter to Mrs. Bray, Saturday, 18th April, 1854.

I am rather overdone with the week's work, and the prospect of what is to come next. Poor Lewes is ill, and is ordered not to put pen to paper for a month; so I have something to do for him in addition to my own work, which is rather pressing. He is gone to Arthur Helps, in Hampshire, for ten days, and I really hope this total cessation from work, in obedience to a peremptory order, will end in making him better than he has been for the last year. No opera and no fun for me for the next month. Happily, I shall have no time to regret it. Plenty of bright sun on your anemone bed. How lovely your place must look, with its fresh leaves!

Letter to Charles Bray, 23d May, 1854.

It is quite possible that I may wish to go to the Continent, or twenty other things. Mr. Lewes is going on a walking excursion to Windsor to-day with his doctor, who pronounces him better, but not yet fit for work. However, he is obliged to do a little, and must content himself with an approximation to his doctor's directions. In this world all things are approximations, and in the system of the Dog Star too, in spite of Dr. Whewell.

Letter to Mrs. Bray, Friday, no date, 1854.

My troubles are purely psychical—self-dissatisfaction, and despair of achieving anything worth the doing. I can truly say they vanish into nothing before any fear for the happiness of those I love. Thank you for letting me know how things are, for indeed I could not bear to be shut out from your anxieties. When I spoke of myself as an island, I did not mean that I was so exceptionally. We are all islands—

and this seclusion is sometimes the most intensely felt at the very moment your friend is caressing you or consoling you. But this gradually becomes a source of satisfaction instead of repining. When we are young we think our troubles a mighty business—that the world is spread out expressly as a stage for the particular drama of our lives, and that we have a right to rant and foam at the mouth if we are crossed. I have done enough of that in my time. But we begin at last to understand that these things are important only to our own consciousness, which is but as a globule of dew on a rose-leaf, that at mid-day there will be no trace of. This is no high-flown sentimentality, but a simple reflection, which I find useful to me every day. I expect to see Mr. Lewes back again to-day. His poor head—his only fortune—is not well yet; and he has had the misery of being ennuyé with idleness, without perceiving the compensating physical improvement. Still, I hope the good he has been getting has been greater than he has been conscious of. I expect "Feuerbach" will be all in print by the end of next week, and there are no skippings, except such as have been made on very urgent grounds.

Letter to Mrs. Bray, Tuesday, 6th June, 1854.

Thanks for your assurance of welcome. I will trust to it when the gods send favorable circumstances. But I see no probability of my being able to be with you before your other midsummer visitors arrive. I delight to think that you are all a little more cheery.

Letter to Mrs. Bray, Wednesday, 28th June, 1854.

I reached the Euston Station as dusty as an old ledger, but with no other "incommodity." I went to the Lyceum last night to see "Sunshine through the Clouds,"[44] a wonderfully original and beautiful piece by Mme. de Girardin, which makes one cry rather too much for pleasure. Vestris acts finely the bereaved mother, passing through all the gradations of doubt and hope to the actual recovery of her lost son. My idea of you is rather bright just now, and really helps to make me enjoy all that is enjoyable. That is part of the benefit I have had from my pleasant visit, which was made up of sunshine, green fields, pleasant looks, and good eatables—an excellent compound. Will you be so kind as to send my books by railway, without the Shelley?

Letter to Mrs. Bray, Monday, 4th July, 1854.

Pray consider the Strauss MSS. waste paper. I shall never want them again. I dined with your old acquaintance, Dr. Conolly, at Sir James Clark's, the other day. He took me down to dinner, and we talked of you.

The translation of Ludwig Feuerbach's "Wesen des Christenthums" was published in July in "Chapman's Quarterly Series," with Miss Evans's name on the titlepage as the translator, the first and only time her real name appeared in print.

Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, 10th July, 1854.

I am going to pack up the Hebrew Grammar, the Apocryphal Gospels, and your pretty Titian, to be sent to you. Shall I despatch them by rail or deposit them with Mr. Chapman, to be asked for by Mr. Bray when he comes to town? I shall soon send you a good-bye, for I am preparing to go abroad (?). Herbert Spencer's article on the "Genesis of Science" is a good one. He will stand in the Biographical Dictionaries of 1854 as "Spencer, Herbert, an original and profound philosophical writer, especially known by his great work, ... which gave a new impulse to psychology, and has mainly contributed to the present advanced position of that science, compared with that which it had attained in the middle of the last century. The life of this philosopher, like that of the great Kant, offers little material for the narrator. Born in the year 1820," etc.

Letter to the Brays, 20th July, 1854.

Dear friends—all three—I have only time to say good-bye, and God bless you. Poste Restante, Weimar, for the next six weeks, and afterwards Berlin. Ever your loving and grateful Marian.

We have now been led up to the most important event in George Eliot's life—her union with Mr. George Henry Lewes. Here, as elsewhere, it seems to me to be of the first importance that she should speak for herself; and there is, fortunately, a letter to Mrs. Bray, dated in September, 1855—fourteen months after the event—which puts on record the point of view from which she regarded her own action. I give this letter here (out of its place as to date); and I may add, what, I think, has not been mentioned before, that not only was Mr. Lewes's previous family life irretrievably spoiled, but his home had been wholly broken up for nearly two years. In forming a judgment on so momentous a question, it is, above all things, necessary to understand what was actually undertaken, what was actually achieved; and, in my opinion, this can best be arrived at, not from any outside statement or arguments, but by consideration of the whole tenor of the life which follows, in the development of which Mr. Lewes's true character, as well as George Eliot's, will unfold itself. No words that any one else can write, no arguments any one else can use, will, I think, be so impressive as the life itself.

Letter to Mrs. Bray, 4th Sept. 1855.

If there is any one action or relation of my life which is, and always has been, profoundly serious, it is my relation to Mr. Lewes. It is, however, natural enough that you should mistake me in many ways, for not only are you unacquainted with Mr. Lewes's real character and the course of his actions, but also it is several years now since you and I were much together, and it is possible that the modifications my mind has undergone may be quite in the opposite direction of what you imagine. No one can be better aware than yourself that it is possible for two people to hold different opinions on momentous subjects with equal sincerity, and an equally earnest conviction that their respective opinions are alone the truly moral ones. If we differ on the subject of the marriage laws, I at least can believe of you that you cleave to what you believe to be good; and I don't know of anything in the nature of your views that should prevent you from believing the same of me. How far we differ I think we neither of us know, for I am ignorant of your precise views; and, apparently, you attribute to me both feelings and opinions which are not mine. We cannot set each other quite right in this matter in letters, but one thing I can tell you in few words. Light and easily broken ties are what I neither desire theoretically nor could live for practically. Women who are satisfied with such ties do not act as I have done. That any unworldly, unsuperstitious person who is sufficiently acquainted with the realities of life can pronounce my relation to Mr. Lewes immoral, I can only understand by remembering how subtile and complex are the influences that mould opinion. But I do remember this: and I indulge in no arrogant or uncharitable thoughts about those who condemn us, even though we might have expected a somewhat different verdict. From the majority of persons, of course, we never looked for anything but condemnation. We are leading no life of self-indulgence, except, indeed, that, being happy in each other, we find everything easy. We are working hard to provide for others better than we provide for ourselves, and to fulfil every responsibility that lies upon us. Levity and pride would not be a sufficient basis for that. Pardon me if, in vindicating myself from some unjust conclusions, I seem too cold and self-asserting. I should not care to vindicate myself if I did not love you and desire to relieve you of the pain which you say these conclusions have given you. Whatever I may have misinterpreted before, I do not misinterpret your letter this morning, but read in it nothing else than love and kindness towards me, to which my heart fully answers yes. I should like never to write about myself again; it is not healthy to dwell on one's own feelings and conduct, but only to try and live more faithfully and lovingly every fresh day. I think not one of the endless words and deeds of kindness and forbearance you have ever shown me has vanished from my memory. I recall them often, and feel, as about everything else in the past, how deficient I have been in almost every relation of my life. But that deficiency is irrevocable, and I can find no strength or comfort except in "pressing forward towards the things that are before," and trying to make the present better than the past. But if we should never be very near each other again, dear Cara, do bear this faith in your mind, that I was not insensible or ungrateful to all your goodness, and that I am one among the many for whom you have not lived in vain. I am very busy just now, and have been obliged to write hastily. Bear this in mind, and believe that no meaning is mine which contradicts my assurance that I am your affectionate and earnest friend.

SUMMARY.

MARCH, 1850, TO JULY, 1854.

Return to England with M. d'Albert—Depressing effect of change—Visit to Rosehill—Visit to brother and sister at Griff and Meriden—Deeper depression—To Rosehill again with M. d'Albert—Makes her home there for sixteen months—Reviews Mackay's "Progress of the Intellect" in Westminster—Meets Mr. Chapman, the editor of the Westminster—Helps to settle Prospectus of new series of the Review—Visits Robert Noel at Bishop Steignton with Mrs. Bray—Visit to London—Crystal Palace—Returns to Rosehill, and meets Mr. and Mrs. George Combe—Goes to London as assistant editor of the Westminster Review—Letters to Brays—Review writing: Dr. Brabant, Foxton, Wilson—Meets Mr. Herbert Spencer—Miss Martineau—Distractions of London—Low health—Miss Bremer—Introduction to Mr. Lewes—Opinion of House of Lords—Carlyle's "Life of Sterling"—Carlyle anecdotes—Mackay—James Martineau—J. H. Newman's Lectures—Translation of Schleiermacher—Letter from Carlyle—Intimacy begins with Mr. Lewes—Reviews Carlyle's "Sterling" in Westminster—Visit to Rosehill—Returns to Strand—Harriet Martineau—Pierre Leroux—Louis Blanc—Miss Bessie Parkes—Mrs. Peter Taylor—"Margaret Fuller's Life"—Description of Westminster reviewers—Growing intimacy with Mr. Herbert Spencer—Meeting of authors and booksellers at Mr. Chapman's—Admiration of Prince Albert—Grisi—Hack work of Review—Appreciation of Miss Martineau's writings—Singing of charity children at St. Paul's—George Combe's opinion of Westminster editing—Barbara Leigh Smith—Visit to Broadstairs—Florence Nightingale—Return to Strand—Depression—Professor Owen on the Cerebellum—Visit to Combes at Edinburgh, and to Harriet Martineau at Ambleside—Return to London—Reading "Esmond"—Lord Brougham's speech—Work in Strand—Bryant—Visit to Rosehill—Death of Edward Clarke—Visit to widowed sister at Meriden—Return to Strand—Letter to Mrs. Peter Taylor—Views on America—"Ruth"—Visit to Rosehill, and to Mrs. Clarke at Attleboro—Return to Strand—Reading "Villette"—Letter from Mrs. Stowe to Mrs. Follen—Meets Huxley—Thinks of going to Australia to settle Mrs. Clarke—Admiration of Helen Faucit—Growing regard for Mr. Lewes—Kindness of Sir James Clark—Visit to Ockley—Change to St. Leonard's—Improvement in health—Return to Strand—Spencer's "Universal Postulate"—Removal to 21 Cambridge Street—Leigh Hunt's "Religion of the Heart"—Dawes, Dean of Hereford—Harriet Martineau—Comte—Contemplates publishing "The Idea of a Future Life"—Meets Arthur Helps—Intimate relations with Mr. Lewes—Translation of Feuerbach—Visit to Rosehill—Return to London—Feuerbach completed—Estimate of Herbert Spencer—Good-bye to Brays—Union with Mr. Lewes—Letter to Mrs. Bray thereon.