Edith Simcox, Autobiography, 12 April 1879
Title
Edith Simcox, Autobiography, 12 April 1879
Title
Edith Simcox, Autobiography, 12 April 1879
Sender
Edith Simcox
Recipient
U
Date(s)
- 1879-04-12
Place
London
Letter Content
Edith Simcox, Autobiography, 12 April 1879
MS: Bodleian. Extracts published: McKenzie, pp. 95-96; Haight, George Eliot, pp. 523-524.
Saturday 12 April 1879
There are days when one seems taken care of from above. I was kept at the shop till after 4 writing letters etc.; sleet and rain were falling heavily -- I was in two minds whether to carry out my purpose of going round by the Priory -- but I had not been since Wednesday and I did not like letting so many days pass, besides, I had almost made up my mind to write to her on Easterday, but I couldn't risk doing so unless I knew how she was -- so I went. Brett exclaimed at my being out such a day and said -- Would I come in for a little? I said -- Oh no! and then she, perhaps I was too wet to stop now, but Mrs. Lewes had said she would like to see me the next time I came. Fortunately I had on a long jacket and had fastened up my dress, so that when one was off and the other down I was not apparently drenched, and she went to ask Mrs. Lewes if I should come in, presently the answer came, she would be glad to see me.
I came in with my veil down -- she received me almost as usual and but for the veil which she made me take off would have received me with a kiss of welcome. -- I spoke with effort of the long cold, and the danger of inclement holiday times. She said the coffee palaces seemed the only resource -- had I seen much of them? I spoke of my lecturing for the working men's clubs. She had in her hands some of his Ms and proof and said she would leave me for a moment to put it in a place of safety. I tried to force back the tears, and stooped as she came back to move the footstool out of her way. She called me a thoughtful child and presently as another easy subject I spoke of Mrs. Stuart. She was sorry for her without blaming the boy, 480 and said she had begun to defend him a little, when Mrs. Stuart was overcome and apparently they spoke of other things. She said she had seen no one but men about the Studentship, Mrs. Congreve, and Elma. She spoke about the foundation and the volume she was bringing out, and when she found I knew of both, she touched my cheek almost playfully and asked me how I came to know so much. Before this I had risen to go, fearing to weary her, but instead, she made me sit down on her footstool, and she took my hand in hers. I told her how I had met Charlie and that Eleanor Cross had been to see me and given me news of her from Johnny. She said the latter told her he had seen me -- and he praised me for unselfishness -- said I never seemed to think of myself. She spoke, to my delight, freely and often of her husband, and said at first she had an intense repulsion from everyone -- it seemed wicked -- but she could hardly bear even Charlie -- who was as good as a son could be, but so different. She said the studentship had made it easier to her to see people -- she was going tomorrow to see Mr. and Mrs. Harrison who had been so kind; but other people she could not attempt. She spoke of the servants, of the comfort of human kindness without companionship when any nearer sympathy would be intolerable -- nothing could be further from morbid sensibility than her whole manner and words. She said she did not know how she could have lived if she had not had his Ms. and the Studentship to think about, -- she could read nothing else and went over that again and again till her brain went round, but she was comforted in reading the proofs after an interval. She had always identified herself with his Ms. so that he said she found more fault with them than she would if they had belonged to anyone else, and now she had a dread of any light words that might be said in forgetfulness of the unfinished state of the work: -- which was foolish, since he would not have cared, -- he was the only man who really delighted in adverse criticism -- in a fair spirit as a means of reaching truth. Her pleasure in the endowment is that he would delight to live in a series of lives -- he had always looked to the younger students and been patient of the unreceptiveness of others -- who if they accepted his views did not own to doing so, -- which was the rarer merit since he delighted so much in any sympathy that came, -- only the week after their return from Brighton he had been pleased by receiving from some young men's reading club at Liverpool notice that the book they were going to discuss this winter was his. I was inexpressibly thankful to find that one might speak freely of the dear one. It had seemed to me cruel to be shut out from that, and yet I had the intense feeling of gratitude for an unexpected, unmerited boon when I found myself received as near to her as ever -- the delight of receiving as a gift what one had made up one's mind not to claim. -- She is so good she will find comfort yet in the blessedness she sheds on her children.
Elma is really very good: she sends me double thanks for my letter, she will not answer but will think about it. This is very generous. I said something to Mrs. Lewes about her having an unhappy nature -- setting her heart on things -- being cast down from a height when they failed her -- which She translated better -- she does things under an impulse and then feels they give her a claim. I said I had told her when she spoke of Roland as ungrateful that by asking for gratitude one ceased to deserve it. Mrs. Lewes said "How did she take it?" -- and all that I wrote on Friday must have been to the full as hard -- though doubtless she was helped by having seen Mrs. Lewes, and perhaps, such is human nature -- by the thought that she had seen her and I had not! One smiles at those little jealous promptings, and yet I cannot but own to a selfish joy at finding that she places me only after Johnny and one of her oldest friends for I feel no jealousy of the Cambridge men or Elma, who owed something to my intercession: -- "such is human nature" -- I mean such as to prompt that last clause. I am unspeakably thankful for her goodness -- for the future hope that she will accept a daughter's duty at one's hands. The African daughter-in-law has sailed to England with her children, and as soon as they arrive she will go down to Witley. I hope Mrs. Congreve will be in the neighbourhood 481 still; otherwise one fears as her strength increases the complete solitude will have its risks, in letting her labour too exclusively at the Ms.
MS: Bodleian. Extracts published: McKenzie, pp. 95-96; Haight, George Eliot, pp. 523-524.
Saturday 12 April 1879
There are days when one seems taken care of from above. I was kept at the shop till after 4 writing letters etc.; sleet and rain were falling heavily -- I was in two minds whether to carry out my purpose of going round by the Priory -- but I had not been since Wednesday and I did not like letting so many days pass, besides, I had almost made up my mind to write to her on Easterday, but I couldn't risk doing so unless I knew how she was -- so I went. Brett exclaimed at my being out such a day and said -- Would I come in for a little? I said -- Oh no! and then she, perhaps I was too wet to stop now, but Mrs. Lewes had said she would like to see me the next time I came. Fortunately I had on a long jacket and had fastened up my dress, so that when one was off and the other down I was not apparently drenched, and she went to ask Mrs. Lewes if I should come in, presently the answer came, she would be glad to see me.
I came in with my veil down -- she received me almost as usual and but for the veil which she made me take off would have received me with a kiss of welcome. -- I spoke with effort of the long cold, and the danger of inclement holiday times. She said the coffee palaces seemed the only resource -- had I seen much of them? I spoke of my lecturing for the working men's clubs. She had in her hands some of his Ms and proof and said she would leave me for a moment to put it in a place of safety. I tried to force back the tears, and stooped as she came back to move the footstool out of her way. She called me a thoughtful child and presently as another easy subject I spoke of Mrs. Stuart. She was sorry for her without blaming the boy, 480 and said she had begun to defend him a little, when Mrs. Stuart was overcome and apparently they spoke of other things. She said she had seen no one but men about the Studentship, Mrs. Congreve, and Elma. She spoke about the foundation and the volume she was bringing out, and when she found I knew of both, she touched my cheek almost playfully and asked me how I came to know so much. Before this I had risen to go, fearing to weary her, but instead, she made me sit down on her footstool, and she took my hand in hers. I told her how I had met Charlie and that Eleanor Cross had been to see me and given me news of her from Johnny. She said the latter told her he had seen me -- and he praised me for unselfishness -- said I never seemed to think of myself. She spoke, to my delight, freely and often of her husband, and said at first she had an intense repulsion from everyone -- it seemed wicked -- but she could hardly bear even Charlie -- who was as good as a son could be, but so different. She said the studentship had made it easier to her to see people -- she was going tomorrow to see Mr. and Mrs. Harrison who had been so kind; but other people she could not attempt. She spoke of the servants, of the comfort of human kindness without companionship when any nearer sympathy would be intolerable -- nothing could be further from morbid sensibility than her whole manner and words. She said she did not know how she could have lived if she had not had his Ms. and the Studentship to think about, -- she could read nothing else and went over that again and again till her brain went round, but she was comforted in reading the proofs after an interval. She had always identified herself with his Ms. so that he said she found more fault with them than she would if they had belonged to anyone else, and now she had a dread of any light words that might be said in forgetfulness of the unfinished state of the work: -- which was foolish, since he would not have cared, -- he was the only man who really delighted in adverse criticism -- in a fair spirit as a means of reaching truth. Her pleasure in the endowment is that he would delight to live in a series of lives -- he had always looked to the younger students and been patient of the unreceptiveness of others -- who if they accepted his views did not own to doing so, -- which was the rarer merit since he delighted so much in any sympathy that came, -- only the week after their return from Brighton he had been pleased by receiving from some young men's reading club at Liverpool notice that the book they were going to discuss this winter was his. I was inexpressibly thankful to find that one might speak freely of the dear one. It had seemed to me cruel to be shut out from that, and yet I had the intense feeling of gratitude for an unexpected, unmerited boon when I found myself received as near to her as ever -- the delight of receiving as a gift what one had made up one's mind not to claim. -- She is so good she will find comfort yet in the blessedness she sheds on her children.
Elma is really very good: she sends me double thanks for my letter, she will not answer but will think about it. This is very generous. I said something to Mrs. Lewes about her having an unhappy nature -- setting her heart on things -- being cast down from a height when they failed her -- which She translated better -- she does things under an impulse and then feels they give her a claim. I said I had told her when she spoke of Roland as ungrateful that by asking for gratitude one ceased to deserve it. Mrs. Lewes said "How did she take it?" -- and all that I wrote on Friday must have been to the full as hard -- though doubtless she was helped by having seen Mrs. Lewes, and perhaps, such is human nature -- by the thought that she had seen her and I had not! One smiles at those little jealous promptings, and yet I cannot but own to a selfish joy at finding that she places me only after Johnny and one of her oldest friends for I feel no jealousy of the Cambridge men or Elma, who owed something to my intercession: -- "such is human nature" -- I mean such as to prompt that last clause. I am unspeakably thankful for her goodness -- for the future hope that she will accept a daughter's duty at one's hands. The African daughter-in-law has sailed to England with her children, and as soon as they arrive she will go down to Witley. I hope Mrs. Congreve will be in the neighbourhood 481 still; otherwise one fears as her strength increases the complete solitude will have its risks, in letting her labour too exclusively at the Ms.
Citation
Edith Simcox, Edith Simcox, Autobiography, 12 April 1879, 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/91772