GE to Francois D'Albert-Durade, London, 21 March 1873
Title
GE to Francois D'Albert-Durade, London, 21 March 1873
Title
GE to Francois D'Albert-Durade, London, 21 March 1873
Sender
George Eliot
Recipient
Francois D'Albert-Durade
Date(s)
- 1873-03-21
Place
London
Letter Content
GE to Francois D'Albert-Durade, London, 21 March 1873
Text: Copy by D'Albert-Durade, Tinker Collection, Yale. Hitherto unpublished.
The Priory | 21 North Bank | Regent's Park | March 21. 1873.
My dear Friend
Some news of you we had in the long interval between your letters, from Mr. Charles Ritter whom you know. He told us that he had seen you and that dear Madame D'Albert's health was still in a sadly frail condition. How I wish that I could see her once more! Whether we shall travel out of England this year -- at least before the Autumn, is made uncertain by the fact that my husband has just begun to print the work on which he has long been engaged. He will publish at first only one volume, which is chiefly a discussion of fundamental questions introductory to the "Problems of Life and Mind" which furnish the matter and title of his work -- to consist ultimately [of] two or three volumes. The correction of the proof-sheets will probably keep us in England, and we shall only move so far as a country house, not very far from London. These are the probabilities of our programme, but they may possibly change.
If "Maman" really gets better as the spring advances, pray do not let me remain in ignorance of the good news. I can imagine her sweet placidity in the prospect of the final change, and I rejoice unspeakably that she and you have the comfort of seeing your children blest with a happy lot such as to make it a gladness to you that they were born and that the whole fruit of your wedded life has been good.
We can not understand why you have not received the last (8th) number of Middlemarch from Assher at Berlin. It was forwarded to us I think more than a fortnight ago. Some delay in packages can be the only cause.
No wonder you have little time for reading, with your life of devotedness to the small needs of others. It always requires some severity of resolution to keep up a course of orderly study, even when the solicitations are no more than those of ordinary society. I can only maintain some repose and intellectual self-possession by making a rule never to pay visits, never to return calls, or go out to dinners. Without that rule all my happiness would be absorbed by futile or rather hurtful occupation with the outsides of social life. As it is, I am compelled to see so many people and [with] the utmost chariness of correspondence to write so many notes that I always long for that retirement into the country which gives us long days of our sweet semisolitude.
Mr. Lewes's health has been greatly improving during the last two years, and his activity of mind has been borne unusually well by his susceptible body. On the other hand, I have been weaker even than usual, and "Middlemarch" was brought into the world under bad auspices, so far as my bodily health was concerned. But in the other great element of happiness it is hardly possible to be more blest than I am -- in the perfect love which cherishes me, and in the sympathy in my books which is constantly being expressed to me in letters from those whom I have never seen.
How long it seems, dear Friend, since we walked together in the old and now vanished walks on the fortifications at Geneva. I had no bright hopes about my life then. But your affectionate heart will delight -- has already delighted in the good that has been given to me -- and more [in] that chief gift of having one's life felt to be of some value by others. For the direct personal joy of living can never be intense with [me], though it is stronger now than when I was young.
I fall into this egotism because I am recalling old times. How vividly I still [see] Maman's entering my room and opening her arms to greet me -- my pleasant bed-room with the alcove in it, and with her painting of the Bible opened and the flowers hanging on the book.
Tell her that Minnie values that memory all the more as the years deepen her impressions of the goodness shown towards her in the past. Life, I find, seems to strengthen, not wither my affections of youth with a comparatively hard unsympathetic period. I dare say Maman remembers that I was always cold and burned an unconscionable amount of wood. I can not pretend that I have reformed in that respect.
Mr. Lewes begs to express his pleasure in being remembered by both you and Madame D'Albert, and he too would be glad if circumstances would accommodate themselves to our seeing you again. Always, dear friend, yours and Maman's,
With grateful affection
M. E. Lewes.
Text: Copy by D'Albert-Durade, Tinker Collection, Yale. Hitherto unpublished.
The Priory | 21 North Bank | Regent's Park | March 21. 1873.
My dear Friend
Some news of you we had in the long interval between your letters, from Mr. Charles Ritter whom you know. He told us that he had seen you and that dear Madame D'Albert's health was still in a sadly frail condition. How I wish that I could see her once more! Whether we shall travel out of England this year -- at least before the Autumn, is made uncertain by the fact that my husband has just begun to print the work on which he has long been engaged. He will publish at first only one volume, which is chiefly a discussion of fundamental questions introductory to the "Problems of Life and Mind" which furnish the matter and title of his work -- to consist ultimately [of] two or three volumes. The correction of the proof-sheets will probably keep us in England, and we shall only move so far as a country house, not very far from London. These are the probabilities of our programme, but they may possibly change.
If "Maman" really gets better as the spring advances, pray do not let me remain in ignorance of the good news. I can imagine her sweet placidity in the prospect of the final change, and I rejoice unspeakably that she and you have the comfort of seeing your children blest with a happy lot such as to make it a gladness to you that they were born and that the whole fruit of your wedded life has been good.
We can not understand why you have not received the last (8th) number of Middlemarch from Assher at Berlin. It was forwarded to us I think more than a fortnight ago. Some delay in packages can be the only cause.
No wonder you have little time for reading, with your life of devotedness to the small needs of others. It always requires some severity of resolution to keep up a course of orderly study, even when the solicitations are no more than those of ordinary society. I can only maintain some repose and intellectual self-possession by making a rule never to pay visits, never to return calls, or go out to dinners. Without that rule all my happiness would be absorbed by futile or rather hurtful occupation with the outsides of social life. As it is, I am compelled to see so many people and [with] the utmost chariness of correspondence to write so many notes that I always long for that retirement into the country which gives us long days of our sweet semisolitude.
Mr. Lewes's health has been greatly improving during the last two years, and his activity of mind has been borne unusually well by his susceptible body. On the other hand, I have been weaker even than usual, and "Middlemarch" was brought into the world under bad auspices, so far as my bodily health was concerned. But in the other great element of happiness it is hardly possible to be more blest than I am -- in the perfect love which cherishes me, and in the sympathy in my books which is constantly being expressed to me in letters from those whom I have never seen.
How long it seems, dear Friend, since we walked together in the old and now vanished walks on the fortifications at Geneva. I had no bright hopes about my life then. But your affectionate heart will delight -- has already delighted in the good that has been given to me -- and more [in] that chief gift of having one's life felt to be of some value by others. For the direct personal joy of living can never be intense with [me], though it is stronger now than when I was young.
I fall into this egotism because I am recalling old times. How vividly I still [see] Maman's entering my room and opening her arms to greet me -- my pleasant bed-room with the alcove in it, and with her painting of the Bible opened and the flowers hanging on the book.
Tell her that Minnie values that memory all the more as the years deepen her impressions of the goodness shown towards her in the past. Life, I find, seems to strengthen, not wither my affections of youth with a comparatively hard unsympathetic period. I dare say Maman remembers that I was always cold and burned an unconscionable amount of wood. I can not pretend that I have reformed in that respect.
Mr. Lewes begs to express his pleasure in being remembered by both you and Madame D'Albert, and he too would be glad if circumstances would accommodate themselves to our seeing you again. Always, dear friend, yours and Maman's,
With grateful affection
M. E. Lewes.
Signature
M. E. Lewes.
Citation
George Eliot, GE to Francois D'Albert-Durade, London, 21 March 1873, 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/92351