Edith Simcox, Autobiography, 6 January 1879
Title
Edith Simcox, Autobiography, 6 January 1879
Title
Edith Simcox, Autobiography, 6 January 1879
Sender
Edith Simcox
Recipient
U
Date(s)
- 1879-01-06
Place
London
Letter Content
Edith Simcox, Autobiography, 6 January 1879
MS: Bodleian. Extract published: Haight, George Eliot, pp. 518-519.
Monday 6 January 1879
January 6. After luncheon I went up there: I had rung the bell and was looking vacantly eastward when I saw a tall reddish bearded man coming up, I stared without moving and when he had come within two or three paces he made some sign of recognition, and I knew it was Johnny. I had thought we should never meet so again. It was an intensely painful moment; there is nothing much more pathetic than a look of set gravity on a habitually cheerful face. We went in together and I asked him to question Brett. She had been out that morning in the garden for a little and felt the better. Johnny said "Give her our love." I listened and came away without speaking but was faintly pleased at the strange chance which brought us there together, because I thought, servant-like, Brett would tell her of the fact and I hoped it would please her to think of our meeting as friends. On leaving the house we adjusted our directions so as to cross Regent's Park together. The anxiety was less after Brett's report -- he only felt that the life of isolation could not last, that it might be the only possibility for her at first, but that it would be fatal if prolonged too far. He comforted himself that perhaps she felt if she saw one person, there would be so many who would be just a little hurt if she did not see them too. But clearly he looked forward to a time when she would receive again a few constant visitors. His sober, earthly sense cheered me a little, and though I cried most of the way it was with the quiet sadness that can break no peaceful slumber.
MS: Bodleian. Extract published: Haight, George Eliot, pp. 518-519.
Monday 6 January 1879
January 6. After luncheon I went up there: I had rung the bell and was looking vacantly eastward when I saw a tall reddish bearded man coming up, I stared without moving and when he had come within two or three paces he made some sign of recognition, and I knew it was Johnny. I had thought we should never meet so again. It was an intensely painful moment; there is nothing much more pathetic than a look of set gravity on a habitually cheerful face. We went in together and I asked him to question Brett. She had been out that morning in the garden for a little and felt the better. Johnny said "Give her our love." I listened and came away without speaking but was faintly pleased at the strange chance which brought us there together, because I thought, servant-like, Brett would tell her of the fact and I hoped it would please her to think of our meeting as friends. On leaving the house we adjusted our directions so as to cross Regent's Park together. The anxiety was less after Brett's report -- he only felt that the life of isolation could not last, that it might be the only possibility for her at first, but that it would be fatal if prolonged too far. He comforted himself that perhaps she felt if she saw one person, there would be so many who would be just a little hurt if she did not see them too. But clearly he looked forward to a time when she would receive again a few constant visitors. His sober, earthly sense cheered me a little, and though I cried most of the way it was with the quiet sadness that can break no peaceful slumber.
Citation
Edith Simcox, Edith Simcox, Autobiography, 6 January 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/91809