Edith Simcox, Autobiography, 26-30 November 1878
Title
Edith Simcox, Autobiography, 26-30 November 1878
Title
Edith Simcox, Autobiography, 26-30 November 1878
Sender
Edith Simcox
Recipient
U
Date(s)
- 1878-11-26–<br /> 1878-11-30
Place
London
Letter Content
Edith Simcox, Autobiography, 26-30 November 1878
MS: Bodleian. Partly published: Haight, George Eliot, p. 515.
Tuesday 26 November 1878
On Monday the doctors were there and he was very ill. Today I went in the morning and the answer was the same. In the afternoon I went again; trying to hope she would let me be with him in the night. I sent up a written line with the prayer. It came down I think unread in the servant's hand -- she could not attend to anything. "Mr. Charles" would write to me! I could not expect anything else, and yet her intense excitement and distress -- the servant said she could do nothing but cry and fret -- make it cruelly unfit for her to be alone. God forgive me! I feel as if I would give my mother's life for his!
Saturday 30 November 1878
Yesterday the answer was "just the same" -- Charles Lewes and Johnny Cross were with him. She had written to the latter -- whom he wished to see -- and who came from his mother's death bed. 468 Today I reached the house about half-past 3, a private cab was driving up and down slowly before it, I waited till that was gone and then rang at the gate. Brett with a white face and dark eyes answered me: "He is very ill --" then "there are no hopes." -- I stood stupefied, without word or sign, without feeling, and so turned away. It was as if something quite different from my fears had come.
I could not leave the place and walked up and down, and almost immediately a carriage like a doctor's drove up fast and two men got out. I hastened after them and they entered the gate; the other carriages followed and the two, with their 4 sleek horses stood a few paces back. The coachmen talked and laughed, cabs and coal carts and men and women on foot passed by as I stood behind the carriages, watching the gate down the fogbound road. Then -- in about 20 minutes, the 2 figures came in sight. I strode towards them and as they stood speaking together, I asked was there no hope. A tall man -- probably Sir James Paget -- answered kindly: "None: he is dying -- dying quickly." Then again I could not speak, but the tears rushed up and shading my face with a hand, I came here with this worst of griefs.
She cannot bear it. There have been unendurable sorrows, but I do not see how any can equal hers -- who can feel as she does, who could have so much to love? -- I am dimly thankful that I parted from him with a kiss -- I feel the touch of his hand as I held it at Witley -- but oh! what does anything matter -- would God the grief might kill her even now. But whether she lives or dies -- there is no comfort for her left on earth but this, to know that their love and life have not been in vain for others, that the happiness which is dead and the sorrow that endures bind us for evermore to love and service of the sorrowing and the glad. -- But oh! to think of that sweet frame shaken with the unconsolable anguish!
MS: Bodleian. Partly published: Haight, George Eliot, p. 515.
Tuesday 26 November 1878
On Monday the doctors were there and he was very ill. Today I went in the morning and the answer was the same. In the afternoon I went again; trying to hope she would let me be with him in the night. I sent up a written line with the prayer. It came down I think unread in the servant's hand -- she could not attend to anything. "Mr. Charles" would write to me! I could not expect anything else, and yet her intense excitement and distress -- the servant said she could do nothing but cry and fret -- make it cruelly unfit for her to be alone. God forgive me! I feel as if I would give my mother's life for his!
Saturday 30 November 1878
Yesterday the answer was "just the same" -- Charles Lewes and Johnny Cross were with him. She had written to the latter -- whom he wished to see -- and who came from his mother's death bed. 468 Today I reached the house about half-past 3, a private cab was driving up and down slowly before it, I waited till that was gone and then rang at the gate. Brett with a white face and dark eyes answered me: "He is very ill --" then "there are no hopes." -- I stood stupefied, without word or sign, without feeling, and so turned away. It was as if something quite different from my fears had come.
I could not leave the place and walked up and down, and almost immediately a carriage like a doctor's drove up fast and two men got out. I hastened after them and they entered the gate; the other carriages followed and the two, with their 4 sleek horses stood a few paces back. The coachmen talked and laughed, cabs and coal carts and men and women on foot passed by as I stood behind the carriages, watching the gate down the fogbound road. Then -- in about 20 minutes, the 2 figures came in sight. I strode towards them and as they stood speaking together, I asked was there no hope. A tall man -- probably Sir James Paget -- answered kindly: "None: he is dying -- dying quickly." Then again I could not speak, but the tears rushed up and shading my face with a hand, I came here with this worst of griefs.
She cannot bear it. There have been unendurable sorrows, but I do not see how any can equal hers -- who can feel as she does, who could have so much to love? -- I am dimly thankful that I parted from him with a kiss -- I feel the touch of his hand as I held it at Witley -- but oh! what does anything matter -- would God the grief might kill her even now. But whether she lives or dies -- there is no comfort for her left on earth but this, to know that their love and life have not been in vain for others, that the happiness which is dead and the sorrow that endures bind us for evermore to love and service of the sorrowing and the glad. -- But oh! to think of that sweet frame shaken with the unconsolable anguish!
Citation
Edith Simcox, Edith Simcox, Autobiography, 26-30 November 1878, Complete George Eliot Letters(2026), George Eliot Archive, edited by Beverley Park Rilett. https://GeorgeEliotArchive.org, Accessed September 7, 2026. https://www.georgeeliotarchive.org/items/show/91800