John Fiske to Mrs. John Fiske, London, 23 November 1873
Title
John Fiske to Mrs. John Fiske, London, 23 November 1873
Title
John Fiske to Mrs. John Fiske, London, 23 November 1873
Sender
John Fiske
Recipient
Mrs. John Fiske
Date(s)
- 1873-11-23
Place
London
Letter Content
John Fiske to Mrs. John Fiske, London, 23 November 1873
Text: The Letters of John Fiske, ed. Ethel Fiske Fisk, New York, Macmillan, 1940, pp. 277-279.
Great Russell St. | Bloomsbury, London, W.C.
November 23, 1873.
Dear Abby:
Today, my dear, I have been to the Lewes's. And Ralston was there, and there never was a room so dark that his presence wouldn't at once make sunlight in it. And Kingdon Clifford was there and was very agreeable. And several others, too many indeed, for Mrs. Lewes had to play hostess to so many that I couldn't talk to her half so much as I wanted to.
Well, what do I think of her? She is not a "fright" by any means. She is a plain-looking woman, but I think not especially homely. I see no reason why her photograph should not be circulated about. She is much better looking than George Sand. She isn't a blooming beauty, of course; you don't expect that at fifty-two; but her features are regular, her nose is very good, her eyes are a rich blue and very expressive, her mouth is very large, but it is pleasant in expression. Her hair is light and profuse, and she wears a lovely lace cap over it -- and looks simple, frank, cordial, and matronly, and seems ever so proud of Lewes, and ever so fond of him. I call her a good, honest, genuine, motherly woman with no nonsense about her. She seemed glad to see me. She said when my Myth-book came to her -- I sent her a copy last summer, as you know -- she was sitting on the floor fixing a rug, or something of the sort, and she got so absorbed in my book that she sat on the floor all the afternoon, till Lewes came in and routed her up! 889 She thought it was "a beautiful book"; but she had known me ages ago, when I first wrote to Lewes and sent things to the "Fortnightly." But she disagreed with me as to the unity of the Homeric poems. I found she was a strong Wolfian! Well we had a hard battle over it -- she and I.
I never saw such a woman. There is nothing a bit masculine about her; she is thoroughly feminine and looks and acts as if she were made for nothing but to mother babies. But she has a power of stating an argument equal to any man; equal to any man do I say? I have never seen any man, except Herbert Spencer, who could state a case equal to her. I found her thoroughly acquainted with the whole literature of the Homeric question; and she seems to have read all of Homer in Greek, too, and could meet me everywhere. She didn't talk like a blue-stocking -- as if she were aware she had got hold of a big topic -- but like a plain woman, who talked of Homer as simply as she would of flat-irons. She showed an amazing knowledge of the subject. But, you see, I am not a fool on the Homer-question. I know every bit of the "Iliad" and "Odyssey" as well as I know the "Pickwick Papers," and so I was a little too much for her. On the whole, she was inclined to beat a retreat before we got through, and said she was glad of some new considerations that I had presented on the subject -- though, on the whole, I don't think I converted her.
I never before saw such a clear-headed woman. She thinks just like a man, and can put her thoughts into clear and forcible language at a moment's notice. And her knowledge is quite amazing. I have often heard of learned women, whose learning, I have usually found, is a mighty flimsy affair. But to meet a woman who can meet you like a man, on such a question as that of Homer's poems, knowing the ins and outs of the question, and not putting on any airs, but talking sincerely of the thing as a subject which has deeply interested her -- this is, indeed, quite a new experience.
On the whole, I enjoyed Mr. and Mrs. Lewes immensely today; and I think Lewes a happy man in having such a simple-hearted, honest, and keenly sympathetic wife. I call them a wonderful couple. Spencer thinks she is the greatest woman that has lived on the earth -- the female Shakespeare, so to speak; and I imagine he is not far from right. My only sorrow is that the afternoon was not quite long enough; but I shall go there again.
Mrs. Lewes calls it Casaubon, i.e., Cuc0u259 -s'e1w-b&obreve;n, with the accent on second syllable. But she says a good many people of that name in England call themselves C'e1s-au365 -b&obreve;n, with accent on first syllable.
Remember that Lewes is just the age of Mr. Stoughton and George Eliot just the age of my mother -- a queer coincidence. . . .
Text: The Letters of John Fiske, ed. Ethel Fiske Fisk, New York, Macmillan, 1940, pp. 277-279.
Great Russell St. | Bloomsbury, London, W.C.
November 23, 1873.
Dear Abby:
Today, my dear, I have been to the Lewes's. And Ralston was there, and there never was a room so dark that his presence wouldn't at once make sunlight in it. And Kingdon Clifford was there and was very agreeable. And several others, too many indeed, for Mrs. Lewes had to play hostess to so many that I couldn't talk to her half so much as I wanted to.
Well, what do I think of her? She is not a "fright" by any means. She is a plain-looking woman, but I think not especially homely. I see no reason why her photograph should not be circulated about. She is much better looking than George Sand. She isn't a blooming beauty, of course; you don't expect that at fifty-two; but her features are regular, her nose is very good, her eyes are a rich blue and very expressive, her mouth is very large, but it is pleasant in expression. Her hair is light and profuse, and she wears a lovely lace cap over it -- and looks simple, frank, cordial, and matronly, and seems ever so proud of Lewes, and ever so fond of him. I call her a good, honest, genuine, motherly woman with no nonsense about her. She seemed glad to see me. She said when my Myth-book came to her -- I sent her a copy last summer, as you know -- she was sitting on the floor fixing a rug, or something of the sort, and she got so absorbed in my book that she sat on the floor all the afternoon, till Lewes came in and routed her up! 889 She thought it was "a beautiful book"; but she had known me ages ago, when I first wrote to Lewes and sent things to the "Fortnightly." But she disagreed with me as to the unity of the Homeric poems. I found she was a strong Wolfian! Well we had a hard battle over it -- she and I.
I never saw such a woman. There is nothing a bit masculine about her; she is thoroughly feminine and looks and acts as if she were made for nothing but to mother babies. But she has a power of stating an argument equal to any man; equal to any man do I say? I have never seen any man, except Herbert Spencer, who could state a case equal to her. I found her thoroughly acquainted with the whole literature of the Homeric question; and she seems to have read all of Homer in Greek, too, and could meet me everywhere. She didn't talk like a blue-stocking -- as if she were aware she had got hold of a big topic -- but like a plain woman, who talked of Homer as simply as she would of flat-irons. She showed an amazing knowledge of the subject. But, you see, I am not a fool on the Homer-question. I know every bit of the "Iliad" and "Odyssey" as well as I know the "Pickwick Papers," and so I was a little too much for her. On the whole, she was inclined to beat a retreat before we got through, and said she was glad of some new considerations that I had presented on the subject -- though, on the whole, I don't think I converted her.
I never before saw such a clear-headed woman. She thinks just like a man, and can put her thoughts into clear and forcible language at a moment's notice. And her knowledge is quite amazing. I have often heard of learned women, whose learning, I have usually found, is a mighty flimsy affair. But to meet a woman who can meet you like a man, on such a question as that of Homer's poems, knowing the ins and outs of the question, and not putting on any airs, but talking sincerely of the thing as a subject which has deeply interested her -- this is, indeed, quite a new experience.
On the whole, I enjoyed Mr. and Mrs. Lewes immensely today; and I think Lewes a happy man in having such a simple-hearted, honest, and keenly sympathetic wife. I call them a wonderful couple. Spencer thinks she is the greatest woman that has lived on the earth -- the female Shakespeare, so to speak; and I imagine he is not far from right. My only sorrow is that the afternoon was not quite long enough; but I shall go there again.
Mrs. Lewes calls it Casaubon, i.e., Cuc0u259 -s'e1w-b&obreve;n, with the accent on second syllable. But she says a good many people of that name in England call themselves C'e1s-au365 -b&obreve;n, with accent on first syllable.
Remember that Lewes is just the age of Mr. Stoughton and George Eliot just the age of my mother -- a queer coincidence. . . .
Citation
John Fiske, John Fiske to Mrs. John Fiske, London, 23 November 1873, 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/95501