GE to Francois D'Albert Durade, London, 27 January 1871
Title
GE to Francois D'Albert Durade, London, 27 January 1871
Title
GE to Francois D'Albert Durade, London, 27 January 1871
Sender
George Eliot
Recipient
Francois D'albert Durade
Date(s)
- 1871-01-27
Place
London
Letter Content
GE to Francois D'Albert Durade, London, 27 January 1871
MS: Yale. Partly published, v, 134-135.
The Priory, | 21 North Bank, | Regents Park.
January 27. 1871.
My dear Friend
I had a great longing to hear from you, and I confess that I had almost suspected you of having ceased to think of me. That was an unworthy suspicion, for since I had not ceased to think of you, I had the best reason for trusting in your faithful kindness as greater than my own. The heart-crushing miseries of our fellowmen which have been growing and growing ever since July last, have made me cling all the more to those with whom I am in any bonds of affection or even of more distant regard, and it is unspeakably sweet to me to have some intimation of what you and dear Madame d'Albert have been feeling and doing in these late months. I fear that the erysipelas in the head from which dear Maman has been suffering must have been a most trying illness for I once witnessed that complaint in a relative of my own. Seventy-one! I imagine how beautifully venerable she must look now. Is it not nearly ten years since I saw her with her fine figure as firm and upright as ever? I bless her from my heart. She is one of the sweet memories of my life.
This war has been a personal sorrow to every human creature with any sympathy who has been within reach of hearing about it; still more to those who have gone out to see and help the sufferers. Several of our friends have been among these latter. 9 But even we who have stayed at home have seen as well as heard the effects of the great calamity, for the French who are among us are many of them half or wholly ruined. Last Sunday we had the eminent paysagiste D'Aubigny 10 to see us, a grave, amiable simple-mannered man. His house on the Loire, full of his own painting on such objects as his daughter's bedstead and all such family memorials, has been completely destroyed. He is now living with his family in small lodgings at Kensington. This is but a mild sample of the myriad sorrows produced by the regression of Barbarism from that historical tomb where we thought it so picturesquely buried -- if indeed one ought not to beg pardon of Barbarism, which had no weapons for making eight wounds at once in one body, and rather call the present warfare that of the Devil and all his legions. Enough! I like better to think how Madame d'Albert would exert herself in all helpfulness as long as she had strength to do so.
I did not know of your change of residence. I have a remembrance of M. Lombard's 11 bureau, and trust that the new position, being under the same roof as Monsieur Covelle, 12 is an advantage to you in every way. It would be a great joy to me to see you again, and we are not without hope of paying a visit to Geneva, under brighter skies and happier auspices than these wintry times are affording us. Mr. Lewes's aged mother is now gone to her rest, and we are without ties that oblige us to keep at home.
Our health is unhappily variable and rarely good. This winter has passed very heavily for me personally from unusually incapacitating weakness. I suffer from the want of sunshine and country scenery, and since our return from the country in the autumn, I have been constantly good-for-nothing. Mr. Lewes was remarkably well for a few months, but he too has broken down again, and has his old symptoms of frequent dyspepsia and exhaustion. If it were not for these drawbacks our happiness would be perfect; and as it is, we have more than our share of good in this world of difficulty. Writing does not go on quickly under bodily depression, but Mr. Lewes has lately prepared a new edition of his History of Philosophy, with many changes and additions, and carries on at his leisure his favourite work on physiological psychology. That is his sole occupation now, and he has long given up all other forms of writing.
I think my affections grow more intense and my interest in such studies increases rather than diminishes, but physically I feel old, and Death seems to me very near. The idea of dying has no melancholy for me, except in the parting and the leaving behind which Love makes so hard to contemplate.
Goodbye, dear Friend. I trust we shall see each other again. But I hope you will not let so long an interval pass again before you send me news of Madame d'Albert and yourself. How vividly I remember the excellent M. Heyer 13 and M. de Ferney of whom you speak! God bless both of you, and let me sometimes be assured that you believe in me as
Your affectionate friend
M. E. Lewes.
Our son Charles is well and happy, his wife delicate in health after a second miscarriage. Our last news of Herbert, the son who is in South Africa, was the very good news that he was engaged to be married to a young lady of good education, the daughter of a long-established colonist.
MS: Yale. Partly published, v, 134-135.
The Priory, | 21 North Bank, | Regents Park.
January 27. 1871.
My dear Friend
I had a great longing to hear from you, and I confess that I had almost suspected you of having ceased to think of me. That was an unworthy suspicion, for since I had not ceased to think of you, I had the best reason for trusting in your faithful kindness as greater than my own. The heart-crushing miseries of our fellowmen which have been growing and growing ever since July last, have made me cling all the more to those with whom I am in any bonds of affection or even of more distant regard, and it is unspeakably sweet to me to have some intimation of what you and dear Madame d'Albert have been feeling and doing in these late months. I fear that the erysipelas in the head from which dear Maman has been suffering must have been a most trying illness for I once witnessed that complaint in a relative of my own. Seventy-one! I imagine how beautifully venerable she must look now. Is it not nearly ten years since I saw her with her fine figure as firm and upright as ever? I bless her from my heart. She is one of the sweet memories of my life.
This war has been a personal sorrow to every human creature with any sympathy who has been within reach of hearing about it; still more to those who have gone out to see and help the sufferers. Several of our friends have been among these latter. 9 But even we who have stayed at home have seen as well as heard the effects of the great calamity, for the French who are among us are many of them half or wholly ruined. Last Sunday we had the eminent paysagiste D'Aubigny 10 to see us, a grave, amiable simple-mannered man. His house on the Loire, full of his own painting on such objects as his daughter's bedstead and all such family memorials, has been completely destroyed. He is now living with his family in small lodgings at Kensington. This is but a mild sample of the myriad sorrows produced by the regression of Barbarism from that historical tomb where we thought it so picturesquely buried -- if indeed one ought not to beg pardon of Barbarism, which had no weapons for making eight wounds at once in one body, and rather call the present warfare that of the Devil and all his legions. Enough! I like better to think how Madame d'Albert would exert herself in all helpfulness as long as she had strength to do so.
I did not know of your change of residence. I have a remembrance of M. Lombard's 11 bureau, and trust that the new position, being under the same roof as Monsieur Covelle, 12 is an advantage to you in every way. It would be a great joy to me to see you again, and we are not without hope of paying a visit to Geneva, under brighter skies and happier auspices than these wintry times are affording us. Mr. Lewes's aged mother is now gone to her rest, and we are without ties that oblige us to keep at home.
Our health is unhappily variable and rarely good. This winter has passed very heavily for me personally from unusually incapacitating weakness. I suffer from the want of sunshine and country scenery, and since our return from the country in the autumn, I have been constantly good-for-nothing. Mr. Lewes was remarkably well for a few months, but he too has broken down again, and has his old symptoms of frequent dyspepsia and exhaustion. If it were not for these drawbacks our happiness would be perfect; and as it is, we have more than our share of good in this world of difficulty. Writing does not go on quickly under bodily depression, but Mr. Lewes has lately prepared a new edition of his History of Philosophy, with many changes and additions, and carries on at his leisure his favourite work on physiological psychology. That is his sole occupation now, and he has long given up all other forms of writing.
I think my affections grow more intense and my interest in such studies increases rather than diminishes, but physically I feel old, and Death seems to me very near. The idea of dying has no melancholy for me, except in the parting and the leaving behind which Love makes so hard to contemplate.
Goodbye, dear Friend. I trust we shall see each other again. But I hope you will not let so long an interval pass again before you send me news of Madame d'Albert and yourself. How vividly I remember the excellent M. Heyer 13 and M. de Ferney of whom you speak! God bless both of you, and let me sometimes be assured that you believe in me as
Your affectionate friend
M. E. Lewes.
Our son Charles is well and happy, his wife delicate in health after a second miscarriage. Our last news of Herbert, the son who is in South Africa, was the very good news that he was engaged to be married to a young lady of good education, the daughter of a long-established colonist.
Signature
M. E. Lewes.
Citation
George Eliot, GE to Francois D'Albert Durade, London, 27 January 1871, 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/92336