GE to Caroline [Mrs. Charles] Bray, [London, 16 April 1853]
Title
GE to Caroline [Mrs. Charles] Bray, [London, 16 April 1853]
Title
GE to Caroline [Mrs. Charles] Bray, [London, 16 April 1853]
Sender
George Eliot
Recipient
Caroline [Mrs. Charles] Bray
Date(s)
- 1853-04-16
Place
London
Letter Content
GE to Caroline [Mrs. Charles] Bray, [London, 16 April 1853]
MS: Yale. Endorsed: April 16. 1853. Extracts published: Cross, 1, 308; George Eliot and John Chapman, p. 68.
Saturday Morning.
Dear Cara
My chief trouble is poor Chrissey. Think of her in that ugly small house with six children who are inevitably made naughty by being thrown close together from morning till night. To live with her in that hideous neighbourhood amongst ignorant bigots is impossible to me. It would be moral asphyxia and I had better take the other kind -- charcoal myself and leave my money, perhaps more acceptable than my labour and affection. Then I dare not incur the material responsibility of taking her away from Isaac's house and its attendant pecuniary advantages. My health might fail and other things might happen to make her, as well as me, regret the change.
Yet how odious it seems that I, who preach self-devotion, should make myself comfortable here while there is a whole family to whom, by renunciation of my egotism I could give almost everything they want. And the work I can do in other directions is so trivial!
The little Chapmans have whooping cough and from having been quite beautiful with healthy bloom they have become pale as death. I have an increasing regard for Mrs. Chapman. Her character has shewn some admirable phases lately, and indeed I think both he and she deserve far more respect than you are disposed to give them.
We had an agreeable soir'e9e last Wednesday. I fell in love with Helen Faucit. She is the most poetic woman I have seen for a long while. Her conversation is not remarkable in any way but there is the ineffable charm of a fine character which makes itself felt in her face, voice and manner.
I am taking doses of agreeable follies, as you recommend, dear Cara. Last night I went to the French Theatre and tonight I am going to the opera to hear William Tell. 316 People are very good to me. Mr. Lewes especially is kind and attentive and has quite won my regard after having a good deal of my vituperation. Like a few other people in the world, he is much better than he seems -- 'abhuman as [?]'bb a man of heart and conscience wearing a mask of flippancy.
Herbert Spencer means to quit his position as sub-editor of the Economist and trust to writing. This is entre nous. I rather tremble for him -- with his nature, article-writing for bread will be worse than he has just now persuaded himself to think. Still this editorship is a horrid g'eane and tethers him to London all the year, with the exception of a few days' holiday now and then.
By the bye, Kate Martineau and her Father 317 came on Wednesday. They were both very cordial and wish to see me at Highbury again.
I am going to write to George Combe to whom I am in debt two letters deep -- so, dear Cara, good bye -- and do not let my grumbling letters alarm you for me. Chrissey will never consent to go to Australia she says.
When the warm days come and the bearskin is under the acacia you must have me again. Love to Sara. Her letter about Hippolytus was read 'abaloud'bb to three gentlemen -- so she must not think her writing thrown away.
Ever your faithful
Marian.
MS: Yale. Endorsed: April 16. 1853. Extracts published: Cross, 1, 308; George Eliot and John Chapman, p. 68.
Saturday Morning.
Dear Cara
My chief trouble is poor Chrissey. Think of her in that ugly small house with six children who are inevitably made naughty by being thrown close together from morning till night. To live with her in that hideous neighbourhood amongst ignorant bigots is impossible to me. It would be moral asphyxia and I had better take the other kind -- charcoal myself and leave my money, perhaps more acceptable than my labour and affection. Then I dare not incur the material responsibility of taking her away from Isaac's house and its attendant pecuniary advantages. My health might fail and other things might happen to make her, as well as me, regret the change.
Yet how odious it seems that I, who preach self-devotion, should make myself comfortable here while there is a whole family to whom, by renunciation of my egotism I could give almost everything they want. And the work I can do in other directions is so trivial!
The little Chapmans have whooping cough and from having been quite beautiful with healthy bloom they have become pale as death. I have an increasing regard for Mrs. Chapman. Her character has shewn some admirable phases lately, and indeed I think both he and she deserve far more respect than you are disposed to give them.
We had an agreeable soir'e9e last Wednesday. I fell in love with Helen Faucit. She is the most poetic woman I have seen for a long while. Her conversation is not remarkable in any way but there is the ineffable charm of a fine character which makes itself felt in her face, voice and manner.
I am taking doses of agreeable follies, as you recommend, dear Cara. Last night I went to the French Theatre and tonight I am going to the opera to hear William Tell. 316 People are very good to me. Mr. Lewes especially is kind and attentive and has quite won my regard after having a good deal of my vituperation. Like a few other people in the world, he is much better than he seems -- 'abhuman as [?]'bb a man of heart and conscience wearing a mask of flippancy.
Herbert Spencer means to quit his position as sub-editor of the Economist and trust to writing. This is entre nous. I rather tremble for him -- with his nature, article-writing for bread will be worse than he has just now persuaded himself to think. Still this editorship is a horrid g'eane and tethers him to London all the year, with the exception of a few days' holiday now and then.
By the bye, Kate Martineau and her Father 317 came on Wednesday. They were both very cordial and wish to see me at Highbury again.
I am going to write to George Combe to whom I am in debt two letters deep -- so, dear Cara, good bye -- and do not let my grumbling letters alarm you for me. Chrissey will never consent to go to Australia she says.
When the warm days come and the bearskin is under the acacia you must have me again. Love to Sara. Her letter about Hippolytus was read 'abaloud'bb to three gentlemen -- so she must not think her writing thrown away.
Ever your faithful
Marian.
Signature
Marian.
Citation
George Eliot, GE to Caroline [Mrs. Charles] Bray, [London, 16 April 1853], 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/93214