CHAPTER IX.

[Sidenote: Journal, 1859.]

_Jan. 12._--We went into town to-day and looked in the "Annual

Register" for cases of _inundation_. Letter from Blackwood to-day,

speaking of renewed delight in "Adam Bede," and proposing 1st Feb. as

the day of publication. Read the article in yesterday's _Times_ on

George's "Sea-side Studies"--highly gratifying. We are still reading

Scott's life with great interest; and G. is reading to me Michelet's

book "De l'Amour."

_Jan. 15._--I corrected the last sheets of "Adam Bede," and we

afterwards walked to Wimbledon to see our new house, which we have

taken for seven years. I hired the servant--another bit of business

done: and then we had a delightful walk across Wimbledon Common and

through Richmond Park homeward. The air was clear and cold--the sky

magnificent.

_Jan. 31._--Received a check for £400 from Blackwood, being the first

instalment of the payment for four years' copyright of "Adam Bede."

To-morrow the book is to be subscribed, and Blackwood writes very

pleasantly--confident of its "great success." Afterwards we went into

town, paid money into the bank, and ordered part of our china and

glass towards house-keeping.

[Sidenote: Letter to John Blackwood, 31st Jan. 1859.]

Enclosed is the formal acknowledgment, bearing my signature, and with

it let me beg you to accept my thanks--_not_ formal but heartfelt--for

the generous way in which you have all along helped me with words and

with deeds.

The impression "Adam Bede" has made on you and Major Blackwood--of

whom I have always been pleased to think as concurring with your

views--is my best encouragement, and counterbalances, in some degree,

the depressing influences to which I am peculiarly sensitive. I

perceive that I have not the characteristics of the "popular author,"

and yet I am much in need of the warmly expressed sympathy which only

popularity can win.

A good subscription would be cheering, but I can understand that it is

not decisive of success or non-success. Thank you for promising to let

me know about it as soon as possible.

[Sidenote: Journal, 1859.]

_Feb. 6._--Yesterday we went to take possession of Holly Lodge,

Wandsworth, which is to be our dwelling, we expect, for years to come.

It was a deliciously fresh bright day--I will accept the omen. A

letter came from Blackwood telling me the result of the subscription

to "Adam Bede," which was published on the 1st: 730 copies, Mudie

having taken 500 on the publisher's terms--_i.e._, ten per cent. on

the sale price. At first he had stood out for a larger reduction, and

would only take 50, but at last he came round. In this letter

Blackwood told me the first _ab extra_ opinion of the book, which

happened to be precisely what I most desired. A cabinet-maker (brother

to Blackwood's managing clerk) had read the sheets, and declared that

the writer must have been brought up to the business, or at least had

listened to the workmen in their workshop.

_Feb. 12._--Received a cheering letter from Blackwood, saying that he

finds "Adam Bede" making just the impression he had anticipated among

his own friends and connections, and enclosing a parcel from Dr. John

Brown "to the author of 'Adam Bede.'" The parcel contained "Rab and

his Friends," with an inscription.

[Sidenote: Letter to John Blackwood, 13th Feb. 1859.]

Will you tell Dr. John Brown that when I read an account of "Rab and

his Friends" in a newspaper, I wished I had the story to read at full

length; and I thought to myself the writer of "Rab" would perhaps like

"Adam Bede."

When you have told him this, he will understand the peculiar pleasure

I had on opening the little parcel with "Rab" inside, and a kind word

from Rab's friend. I have read the story twice--once aloud, and once

to myself, very slowly, that I might dwell on the pictures of Rab and

Ailie, and carry them about with me more distinctly. I will not say

any commonplace words of admiration about what has touched me so

deeply; there is no adjective of that sort left undefiled by the

newspapers. The writer of "Rab" _knows_ that I must love the grim old

mastiff with the short tail and the long dewlaps--that I must have

felt present at the scenes of Ailie's last trial.

Thanks for your cheering letter. I will be hopeful--if I can.

[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, 19th Feb. 1859.]

You have the art of writing just the sort of letters I care

for--sincere letters, like your own talk. We are tolerably settled

now, except that we have only a temporary servant; and I shall not be

quite at ease until I have a trustworthy woman who will manage without

incessant dogging. Our home is very comfortable, with far more of

vulgar indulgences in it than I ever expected to have again; but you

must not imagine it a snug place, just peeping above the holly

bushes. Imagine it rather as a tall cake, with a low garnish of holly

and laurel. As it is, we are very well off, with glorious breezy

walks, and wide horizons, well ventilated rooms, and abundant water.

If I allowed myself to have any longings beyond what is given, they

would be for a nook quite in the country, far away from

palaces--Crystal or otherwise--with an orchard behind me full of old

trees, and rough grass and hedge-row paths among the endless fields

where you meet nobody. We talk of such things sometimes, along with

old age and dim faculties, and a small independence to save us from

writing drivel for dishonest money. In the mean time the business of

life shuts us up within the environs of London and within sight of

human advancements, which I should be so very glad to believe in

without seeing.

Pretty Arabella Goddard we heard play at Berlin--play the very things

you heard as a _bonne bouche_ at the last--none the less delightful

from being so unlike the piano playing of Liszt and Clara Schumann,

whom we had heard at Weimar--both great, and one the greatest.

Thank you for sending me that authentic word about Miss Nightingale. I

wonder if she would rather rest from her blessed labors, or live to go

on working? Sometimes, when I read of the death of some great,

sensitive human being, I have a triumph in the sense that they are at

rest; and yet, along with that, such deep sadness at the thought that

the rare nature is gone forever into darkness, and we can never know

that our love and reverence can reach him, that I seem to have gone

through a personal sorrow when I shut the book and go to bed. I felt

in that way the other night when I finished the life of Scott aloud

to Mr. Lewes. He had never read the book before, and has been deeply

stirred by the picture of Scott's character, his energy and steady

work, his grand fortitude under calamity, and the spirit of strict

honor to which he sacrificed his declining life. He loves Scott as

well as I do.

We have met a pleasant-faced, bright-glancing man, whom we set down to

be worthy of the name, Richard Congreve. I am curious to see if our

_Ahnung_ will be verified.

[Sidenote: Letter to Mrs. Bray, 24th Feb. 1859.]

One word of gratitude to _you_ first before I write any other letters.

Heaven and earth bless you for trying to help me. I have been

blasphemous enough sometimes to think that I had never been good and

attractive enough to win any little share of the honest, disinterested

friendship there is in the world: one or two examples of late had

given that impression, and I am prone to rest in the least agreeable

conviction the premisses will allow. I need hardly tell you what I

want, you know it so well: a servant who will cause me the least

possible expenditure of time on household matters. I wish I were not

an anxious, fidgety wretch, and could sit down content with dirt and

disorder. But anything in the shape of an _anxiety_ soon grows into a

monstrous vulture with me, and makes itself more present to me than my

rich sources of happiness--such as too few mortals are blessed with.

You know me. Since I wrote this, I have just had a letter from my

sister Chrissey--ill in bed, consumptive--regretting that she ever

ceased to write to me. It has ploughed up my heart.

[Sidenote: Letter to John Blackwood, 24th Feb. 1859.]

Mrs. Carlyle's ardent letter will interest and amuse you. I reckon it

among my best triumphs that she found herself "in charity with the

whole human race" when she laid the book down. I want the philosopher

himself to read it, because the _pre_-philosophic period--the

childhood and poetry of his life--lay among the furrowed fields and

pious peasantry. If he _could_ be urged to read a novel! I should

like, if possible, to give him the same sort of pleasure he has given

me in the early chapters of "Sartor," where he describes little

Diogenes eating his porridge on the wall in sight of the sunset, and

gaining deep wisdom from the contemplation of the pigs and other

"higher animals" of _Entepfuhl_.

Your critic was _not_ unjustly severe on the "Mirage Philosophy"--and

I confess the "Life of Frederic" was a painful book to me in many

respects; and yet I shrink, perhaps superstitiously, from any written

or spoken word which is as strong as my inward criticism.

I needed your letter very much--for when one lives apart from the

world, with no opportunity of observing the effect of books except

through the newspapers, one is in danger of sinking into the foolish

belief that the day is past for the recognition of genuine, truthful

writing, in spite of recent experience that the newspapers are no

criterion at all. One such opinion as Mr. Caird's outweighs a great

deal of damnatory praise from ignorant journalists.

It is a wretched weakness of my nature to be so strongly affected by

these things; and yet how is it possible to put one's best heart and

soul into a book and be hardened to the result--be indifferent to the

proof whether or not one has really a vocation to speak to one's

fellow-men in that way? Of course one's vanity is at work; but the

main anxiety is something entirely distinct from vanity.

You see I mean you to understand that my feelings are very

respectable, and such as it will be virtuous in you to gratify with

the same zeal as you have always shown. The packet of newspaper

notices is not come yet. I will take care to return it when it _has_

come.

The best news from London hitherto is that Mr. Dallas is an

enthusiastic admirer of Adam. I ought to except Mr. Langford's

reported opinion, which is that of a person who has a voice of his

own, and is not a mere echo.

Otherwise, Edinburgh has sent me much more encouraging breezes than

any that have come from the sweet South. I wonder if all your other

authors are as greedy and exacting as I am. If so, I hope they

appreciate your attention as much. Will you oblige me by writing a

line to Mrs. Carlyle for me. I don't like to leave her second letter

(she wrote a very kind one about the "Clerical Scenes") without any

sort of notice. Will you tell her that the sort of effect she declares

herself to have felt from "Adam Bede" is just what I desire to

produce--gentle thoughts and happy remembrances; and I thank her

heartily for telling me, so warmly and generously, what she has felt.

That is not a pretty message: revise it for me, pray, for I am weary

and ailing, and thinking of a sister who is slowly dying.

[Sidenote: Letter to John Blackwood, 25th Feb. 1859.]

The folio of notices duly came, and are returned by to-day's post. The

friend at my elbow ran through them for me, and read aloud some

specimens to me, some of them ludicrous enough. The _Edinburgh

Courant_ has the ring of sincere enjoyment in its tone; and the writer

there makes himself so amiable to me that I am sorry he has fallen

into the mistake of supposing that Mrs. Poyser's original sayings are

remembered proverbs! I have no stock of proverbs in my memory; and

there is not one thing put into Mrs. Poyser's mouth that is not fresh

from my own mint. Please to correct that mistake if any one makes it

in your hearing.

I have not ventured to look into the folio myself; but I learn that

there are certain threatening marks, in ink, by the side of such stock

sentences as "best novel of the season," or "best novel we have read

for a long time," from such authorities as the _Sun_, or _Morning

Star_, or other orb of the newspaper firmament--as if these sentences

were to be selected for reprint in the form of advertisement. I

shudder at the suggestion. Am I taking a liberty in entreating you to

keep a sharp watch over the advertisements, that no hackneyed puffing

phrase of this kind may be tacked to my book? One sees them garnishing

every other advertisement of trash: surely no being "above the rank of

an idiot" can have his inclination coerced by them? and it would gall

me, as much as any trifle could, to see my book recommended by an

authority who doesn't know how to write decent English. I believe that

your taste and judgment will concur with mine in the conviction that

no quotations of this vulgar kind can do credit to a book; and that

unless something looking like the real opinion of a tolerably educated

writer, in a respectable journal, can be given, it would be better to

abstain from "opinions of the press" altogether. I shall be grateful

to you if you will save me from the results of any agency but your

own--or at least of any agency that is not under your rigid criticism

in this matter.

Pardon me if I am overstepping the author's limits in this expression

of my feelings. I confide in your ready comprehension of the

irritable class you have to deal with.

[Sidenote: Journal, 1859.]

_Feb. 26._--Laudatory reviews of "Adam Bede" in the _Athenæum_,

_Saturday_, and _Literary Gazette_. The _Saturday_ criticism is

characteristic: Dinah is not mentioned!

The other day I received the following letter, which I copy, because I

have sent the original away:

[Sidenote: Letter from E. Hall to George Eliot.]

"To the Author of 'Adam Bede,'

"CHESTER ROAD, SUNDERLAND.

"DEAR SIR,--I got the other day a hasty read of your 'Scenes

of Clerical Life,' and since that a glance at your 'Adam

Bede,' and was delighted more than I can express; but being a

poor man, and having enough to do to make 'ends meet,' I am

unable to get a read of your inimitable books.

"Forgive, dear sir, my boldness in asking you to give us a

cheap edition. You would confer on us a great boon. I can get

plenty of trash for a few pence, but I am sick of it. I felt

so different when I shut your books, even though it was but a

kind of 'hop-skip-and-jump' read.

"I feel so strongly in this matter that I am determined to

risk being thought rude and officious, and write to you.

"Many of my working brethren feel as I do, and I express

their wish as well as my own. Again asking your forgiveness

for intruding myself upon you, I remain, with profoundest

respect, yours, etc.,

"E. HALL."

[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, 26th Feb. 1859.]

I have written to Chrissey, and shall hear from her again. I think her

writing was the result of long, quiet thought--the slow return of a

naturally just and affectionate mind to the position from which it had

been thrust by external influence. She says: "My object in writing to

you is to tell you how very sorry I have been that I ceased to write,

and neglected one who, under all circumstances, was kind to me and

mine. _Pray believe_ me when I say it will be the greatest comfort I

can receive to know that you are _well_ and _happy_. Will you write

once more?" etc. I wrote immediately, and I desire to avoid any word

of reference to anything with which she associates the idea of

alienation. The past is abolished from my mind. I only want her to

feel that I love her and care for her. The servant trouble seems less

mountainous to me than it did the other day. I was suffering

physically from unusual worrit and muscular exertion in arranging the

house, and so was in a ridiculously desponding state. I have written

no end of letters in answer to servants' advertisements, and we have

put our own advertisement in the _Times_--all which amount of force,

if we were not philosophers and therefore believers in the

conservation of force, we should declare to be lost. It is so pleasant

to know these high doctrines--they help one so much. Mr. and Mrs.

Richard Congreve have called on us. We shall return the call as soon

as we can.

[Sidenote: Journal, 1859.]

_March 8._--Letter from Blackwood this morning saying that "'Bedesman'

has turned the corner and is coming in a winner." Mudie has sent for

200 additional copies (making 700), and Mr. Langford says the West End

libraries keep sending for more.

_March 14._--My dear sister wrote to me about three weeks ago, saying

she regretted that she had ever ceased writing to me, and that she has

been in a consumption for the last eighteen months. To-day I have a

letter from my niece Emily, telling me her mother had been taken

worse, and cannot live many days.

_March 14._--Major Blackwood writes to say "Mudie has just made up his

number of 'Adam Bede' to 1000. Simpkins have sold their subscribed

number, and have had 12 to-day. Every one is talking of the book."

_March 15._--Chrissey died this morning at a quarter to 5.

_March 16._--Blackwood writes to say I am "a popular author as well as

a great author." They printed 2090 of "Adam Bede," and have disposed

of more than 1800, so that they are thinking about a second edition. A

very feeling letter from Froude this morning. I happened this morning

to be reading the 30th Ode, B. III. of Horace--"Non omnis moriar."

[Sidenote: Letter to John Blackwood, 17th March, 1859.]

The news you have sent me is worth paying a great deal of pain for,

past and future. It comes rather strangely to me, who live in such

unconsciousness of what is going on in the world. I am like a deaf

person, to whom some one has just shouted that the company round him

have been paying him compliments for the last half hour. Let the best

come, you will still be the person outside my own home who _first_

gladdened me about "Adam Bede;" and my success will always please me

the better because you will share the pleasure.

Don't think I mean to worry you with many such requests--but will you

copy for me the enclosed short note to Froude? I know you will, so I

say "thank you."

[Sidenote: Letter to J. A. Froude from George Eliot.]

DEAR SIR,--My excellent friend and publisher, Mr. Blackwood,

lends me his pen to thank you for your letter, and for his

sake I shall be brief.

Your letter has done me real good--the same sort of good as

one has sometimes felt from a silent pressure of the hand and

a grave look in the midst of smiling congratulations.

I have nothing else I care to tell you that you will not have

found out through my books, except this one thing: that, so

far as I am aware, you are only the _second_ person who has

shared my own satisfaction in Janet. I think she is the least

popular of my characters. You will judge from that, that it

was worth your while to tell me what you felt about her.

I wish I could help you with words of equal value; but, after

all, am I not helping you by saying that it was well and

generously done of you to write to me?--Ever faithfully

yours,

GEORGE ELIOT.

[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, 21st March, 1859.]

It was worth your while to write me those feeling words, for they are

the sort of things that I keep in my memory and feel the influence of

a long, long while. Chrissey's death has taken from the possibility of

many things towards which I looked with some hope and yearning in the

future. I had a very special feeling towards her--stronger than any

third person would think likely.

[Sidenote: Journal, 1859.]

_March 24._--Mr. Herbert Spencer brought us word that "Adam Bede" had

been quoted by Mr. Charles Buxton in the House of Commons: "As the

farmer's wife says in 'Adam Bede,' 'It wants to be hatched over again

and hatched different.'"

_March 26._--George went into town to-day and brought me home a budget

of good news that compensated for the pain I had felt in the coldness

of an old friend. Mr. Langford says that Mudie "thinks he must have

another hundred or two of 'Adam'--has read the book himself, and is

delighted with it." Charles Reade says it is "the finest thing since

Shakespeare"--placed his finger on Lisbeth's account of her coming

home with her husband from their marriage--praises enthusiastically

the style--the way in which the author handles the Saxon language.

Shirley Brooks also delighted. John Murray says there has never been

such a book. Mr. Langford says there must be a second edition, in 3

vols., and they will print 500: whether Mudie takes more or not, they

will have sold all by the end of a month. Lucas delighted with the

book, and will review it in the _Times_ the first opportunity.

[Sidenote: Letter to John Blackwood, 30th March, 1859.]

I should like you to convey my gratitude to your reviewer. I see well

he is a man whose experience and study enable him to relish parts of

my book, which I should despair of seeing recognized by critics in

London back drawing-rooms. He has gratified me keenly by laying his

finger on passages which I wrote either with strong feeling or from

intimate knowledge, but which I had prepared myself to find entirely

passed over by reviewers. Surely I am not wrong in supposing him to be

a clergyman? There was one exemplary lady Mr. Langford spoke of, who,

after reading "Adam," came the next day and bought a copy both of that

and the "Clerical Scenes." I wish there may be three hundred matrons

as good as she! It is a disappointment to me to find that "Adam" has

given no impulse to the "Scenes," for I had sordid desires for money

from a second edition, and had dreamed of its coming speedily.

About my new story, which will be a novel as long as "Adam Bede," and

a sort of companion picture of provincial life, we must talk when I

have the pleasure of seeing you. It will be a work which will require

time and labor.

Do write me good news as often as you can. I owe thanks to Major

Blackwood for a very charming letter.

[Sidenote: Letter to John Blackwood, 10th April, 1859.]

The other day I received a letter from an old friend in Warwickshire,

containing some striking information about the author of "Adam Bede."

I extract the passage for your amusement:

"I want to ask you if you have read 'Adam Bede,' or the 'Scenes of

Clerical Life,' and whether you know that the author is Mr.

Liggins?... A deputation of dissenting parsons went over _to ask him

to write for the 'Eclectic,'_ and they found him washing his

slop-basin at a pump. He has no servant, and does everything for

himself; but one of the said parsons said that he inspired them with a

reverence that would have made any impertinent question impossible.

The son of a baker, of no mark at all in his town, so that it is

possible you may not have heard of him. You know he calls himself

'George Eliot.' It sounds strange to hear the _Westminster_ doubting

whether he is a woman, when _here he is so well known_. But I am glad

it has mentioned him. _They say he gets no profit out of 'Adam Bede,'

and gives it freely to Blackwood, which is a shame._ We have not read

him yet, but the extracts are irresistible."

Conceive the real George Eliot's feelings, conscious of being a base

worldling--not washing his own slop-basin, and _not_ giving away his

MS.! not even intending to do so, in spite of the reverence such a

course might inspire. I hope you and Major Blackwood will enjoy the

myth.

Mr. Langford sent me a letter the other day from Miss Winkworth, a

grave lady, who says she never reads novels, except a few of the most

famous, but that she has read "Adam" three times running. One likes to

know such things--they show that the book tells on people's hearts,

and may be a real instrument of culture. I sing my Magnificat in a

quiet way, and have a great deal of deep, silent joy; but few authors,

I suppose, who have had a real success, have known less of the flush

and the sensations of triumph that are talked of as the accompaniments

of success. I think I should soon begin to believe that _Liggins_

wrote my books--it is so difficult to believe what the world does

_not_ believe, so easy to believe what the world keeps repeating.

[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, 11th April, 1859.]

The very day you wrote we were driving in an open carriage from Ryde

to the Sandrock Hotel, taking in a month's delight in the space of

five hours. Such skies--such songs of larks--such beds of primroses!

_I_ am quite well now--set up by iron and quinine, and polished off by

the sea-breezes. I have lost my _young_ dislike to the spring, and am

as glad of it as the birds and plants are. Mr. Lewes has read "Adam

Bede," and is as dithyrambic about it as others appear to be, so _I_

must refresh my soul with it now as well as with the spring-tide. Mr.

Liggins I remember as a vision of my childhood--a tall, black-coated,

genteel young clergyman-in-embryo.

[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, 15th April, 1859.]

Mr. Lewes is "making himself into four" in writing answers to

advertisements and other exertions which he generously takes on

himself to save me. A model husband!

We both like your literal title, "Thoughts in Aid of Faith," very

much, and hope to see a little book under that title before the year

is out--a book as thorough and effective in its way as "Christianity

and Infidelity."

_Re_writing is an excellent process, frequently both for the book and

its author; and to prevent you from grudging the toil, I will tell you

that so old a writer as Mr. Lewes now _re_writes everything of

_importance_, though in all the earlier years of his authorship he

would never take that trouble.

We are so happy in the neighborhood of Mr. and Mrs. Richard Congreve.

She is a sweet, intelligent, gentle woman. I already love her: and his

fine, beaming face does me good, like a glimpse of an Olympian.

[Sidenote: Journal, 1859.]

_April 17._--I have left off recording the history of "Adam Bede" and

the pleasant letters and words that came to me--the success has been

so triumphantly beyond anything I had dreamed of that it would be

tiresome to put down particulars. Four hundred of the second edition

(of 750) sold in the first week, and twenty besides ordered when there

was not a copy left in the London house. This morning Hachette has

sent to ask my terms for the liberty of translation into French. There

was a review in the _Times_ last week, which will naturally give a new

stimulus to the sale; and yesterday I sent a letter to the _Times_

denying that Mr. Liggins is the author, as the world and Mr. Anders

had settled it. But I must trust to the letters I have received and

preserved for giving me the history of the book if I should live long

enough to forget details.

Shall I ever write another book as true as "Adam Bede?" The weight of

the future presses on me, and makes itself felt even more than the

deep satisfaction of the past and present.

[Sidenote: Letter to John Blackwood, 20th April, 1859.]

This myth about Liggins is getting serious, and must be put a stop to.

We are bound not to allow sums of money to be raised on a false

supposition of this kind. Don't you think it would be well for _you_

to write a letter to the _Times_, to the effect that, as you find in

some stupid quarters my letter has not been received as a _bonâ-fide_

denial, you declare Mr. Liggins not to be the author of "Clerical

Scenes" and "Adam Bede;" further, that any future applications to you

concerning George Eliot will not be answered, since that writer is not

in need of public benevolence. Such a letter might save us from future

annoyance and trouble, for I am rather doubtful about Mr. Liggins's

character. The last report I heard of him was that he spent his time

in smoking and drinking. I don't know whether that is one of the data

for the Warwickshire logicians who have decided him to be the author

of my books.

[Sidenote: Journal, 1859.]

_April 29._--To-day Blackwood sent me a letter from Bulwer, which I

copy because I have to send back the original, and I like to keep in

mind the generous praise of one author for another.

[Sidenote: Letter from E. B. Lytton to John Blackwood.]

"MALVERN, _April 24, 1859_.

"MY DEAR SIR,--I ought long since to have thanked you for

'Adam Bede.' But I never had a moment to look at it till

arriving here, and ordered by the doctors to abstain from all

'work.'

"I owe the author much gratitude for some very pleasing

hours. The book indeed is worthy of great admiration. There

are touches of beauty in the conception of human character

that are exquisite, and much wit and much poetry embedded in

the 'dialect,' which nevertheless the author over-uses.

"The style is remarkably good whenever it is English and not

provincial--racy, original, and nervous.

"I congratulate you on having found an author of such

promise, and published one of the very ablest works of

fiction I have read for years.--

Yours truly,

E. B. L.

"I am better than I was, but thoroughly done up."

[Sidenote: Journal, 1859.]

_April 29._--Finished a story--"The Lifted Veil"--which I began one

morning at Richmond as a resource when my head was too stupid for more

important work.

Resumed my new novel, of which I am going to rewrite the two first

chapters. I shall call it provisionally "The Tullivers," for the sake

of a title _quelconque_, or perhaps "St. Ogg's on the Floss."

[Sidenote: Letter to John Blackwood, 29th April, 1859.]

Thank you for sending me Sir Edward Lytton's letter, which has given

me real pleasure. The praise is doubly valuable to me for the sake of

the generous feeling that prompted it. I think you judged rightly

about writing to the _Times_. I would abstain from the remotest

appearance of a "dodge." I am anxious to know of any _positive_ rumors

that may get abroad; for while I would willingly, if it were

possible--which it clearly is not--retain my _incognito_ as long as I

live, I can suffer no one to bear my arms on his shield.

There is _one_ alteration, or rather an addition--merely of a

sentence--that I wish to make in the 12_s._ edition of "Adam Bede."

It is a sentence in the chapter where Adam is making the coffin at

night, and hears the willow wand. Some readers seem not to have

understood what I meant--namely, that it was in Adam's peasant blood

and nurture to believe in this, and that he narrated it with awed

belief to his dying day. That is not a fancy of my own brain, but a

matter of observation, and is, in my mind, an important feature in

Adam's character. There is nothing else I wish to touch. I will send

you the sentence some day soon, with the page where it is to be

inserted.

[Sidenote: Journal, 1859.]

_May 3._--I had a letter from Mrs. Richard Congreve, telling me of her

safe arrival, with her husband and sister,[7] at Dieppe. This new

friend, whom I have gained by coming to Wandsworth, is the chief charm

of the place to me. Her friendship has the same date as the success of

"Adam Bede"--two good things in my lot that ought to have made me less

sad than I have been in this house.

[Sidenote: Letter to Mrs. Congreve, 4th May, 1859.]

Your letter came yesterday at tea-time, and made the evening happier

than usual. We had thought of you not a little as we listened to the

howling winds, especially as the terrible wrecks off the Irish coast

had filled our imaginations disagreeably. _Now_ I can make a charming

picture of you all on the beach, except that I am obliged to fancy

_your_ face looking still too languid after all your exertion and

sleeplessness. I remember the said face with peculiar vividness, which

is very pleasant to me. "Rough" has been the daily companion of our

walks, and wins on our affections, as other fellow mortals do, by a

mixture of weaknesses and virtues--the weaknesses consisting chiefly

in a tendency to become invisible every ten minutes, and in a

forgetfulness of reproof, which, I fear, is the usual accompaniment of

meekness under it. All this is good discipline for us selfish

solitaries, who have been used to stroll along, thinking of nothing

but ourselves.

We walked through your garden to-day, and I gathered a bit of your

sweetbrier, of which I am at this moment enjoying the scent as it

stands on my desk. I am enjoying, too, another sort of sweetness,

which I also owe to you--of that subtle, haunting kind which is most

like the scent of my favorite plants--the belief that you do really

care for me across the seas there, and will associate me continually

with your home. Faith is not easy to me, nevertheless I believe

everything you say and write.

Write to me as often as you can--that is, as often as you feel any

prompting to do so. You were a dear presence to me, and will be a

precious thought to me all through your absence.

[Sidenote: Journal, 1859.]

_May 4._--To-day came a letter from Barbara Bodichon, full of joy in

my success, in the certainty that "Adam Bede" was mine, though she had

not read more than extracts in reviews. This is the first delight in

the book as _mine_, over and above the fact that the book is good.

[Sidenote: Letter to Madame Bodichon, 5th May, 1859.]

God bless you, dearest Barbara, for your love and sympathy. You are

the first friend who has given any symptom of knowing me--the first

heart that has recognized me in a book which has come from my heart of

hearts. But keep the secret solemnly till I give you leave to tell it;

and give way to no impulses of triumphant affection. You have sense

enough to know how important the _incognito_ has been, and we are

anxious to keep it up a few months longer. Curiously enough my old

Coventry friends, who have certainly read the _Westminster_ and the

_Times_, and have probably by this time read the book itself, have

given no sign of recognition. But a certain Mr. Liggins, whom rumor

has fixed on as the author of my books, and whom _they_ have believed

in, has probably screened me from their vision. I am a very blessed

woman, am I not, to have all this reason for being glad that I have

lived? I have had no time of exultation; on the contrary, these last

months have been sadder than usual to me, and I have thought more of

the future and the much work that remains to be done in life than of

anything that has been achieved. But I think your letter to-day gave

me more joy--more heart-glow--than all the letters or reviews or other

testimonies of success that have come to me since the evenings when I

read aloud my manuscript to my dear, dear husband, and he laughed and

cried alternately, and then rushed to me to kiss me. He is the prime

blessing that has made all the rest possible to me, giving me a

response to everything I have written--a response that I could confide

in, as a proof that I had not mistaken my work.

[Sidenote: Letter to Major Blackwood, 6th May, 1859.]

You must not think me too soft-hearted when I tell you that it would

make me uneasy to leave Mr. Anders without an assurance that his

apology is accepted. "Who with repentance is not satisfied," etc.;

that doctrine is bad for the sinning, but good for those sinned

against. Will you oblige me by allowing a clerk to write something to

this effect in the name of the firm?--"We are requested by George

Eliot to state, in reply to your letter of the 16th, that he accepts

your assurance that the publication of your letter to the reviewer of

'Adam Bede' in the _Times_ was unintentional on your part."

Yes, I _am_ assured now that "Adam Bede" was worth writing--worth

living through long years to write. But now it seems impossible to me

that I shall ever write anything so good and true again. I have

arrived at faith in the past, but not at faith in the future.

A friend in Algiers[8] has found me out--"will go to the stake on the

assertion that I wrote 'Adam Bede'"--simply on the evidence of a few

extracts. So far as I know, this is the first case of detection on

purely internal evidence. But the secret is safe in that quarter.

I hope I shall have the pleasure of seeing you again during some visit

that you will pay to town before very long. It would do me good to

have you shake me by the hand as the ascertained George Eliot.

[Sidenote: Journal, 1859.]

_May 9._--We had a delicious drive to Dulwich, and back by Sydenham.

We stayed an hour in the gallery at Dulwich, and I satisfied myself

that the St. Sebastian is no exception to the usual "petty prettiness"

of Guido's conceptions. The Cuyp glowing in the evening sun, the

Spanish beggar boys of Murillo, and Gainsborough's portrait of Mrs.

Sheridan and her sister, are the gems of the gallery. But better than

the pictures was the fresh greenth of the spring--the chestnuts just

on the verge of their flowering beauty, the bright leaves of the

limes, the rich yellow-brown of the oaks, the meadows full of

buttercups. We saw for the first time Clapham Common, Streatham

Common, and Tooting Common--the two last like parks rather than

commons.

_May 19._--A letter from Blackwood, in which he proposes to give me

another £400 at the end of the year, making in all £1200, as an

acknowledgment of "Adam Bede's" success.

[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, 19th May, 1859.]

Mrs. Congreve is a sweet woman, and I feel that I have acquired a

friend in her--after recently declaring that we would never have any

_friends_ again, only _acquaintances_.

[Sidenote: Letter to John Blackwood, 21st May, 1859.]

Thank you: first, for acting with that fine integrity which makes part

of my faith in you; secondly, for the material sign of that integrity.

I don't know which of those two things I care for most--that people

should act nobly towards me, or that I should get honest money. I

certainly care a great deal for the money, as I suppose all anxious

minds do that love independence and have been brought up to think debt

and begging the two deepest dishonors short of crime.

I look forward with quite eager expectation to seeing you--we have so

much to say. Pray give us the first day at your command. The

excursion, as you may imagine, is not ardently longed for in this

weather, but when "merry May" is quite gone, we may surely hope for

some sunshine; and then I have a pet project of rambling along by the

banks of a river, not without artistic as well as hygienic purposes.

Pray bring me all the Liggins Correspondence. I have an amusing letter

or two to show you--one from a gentleman who has sent me his works;

happily the only instance of the kind. For, as Charles Lamb complains,

it is always the people whose books _don't_ sell who are anxious to

send them to one, with their "foolish autographs" inside.

[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, 21st May, 1859.]

We don't think of going to the festival, not for want of power to

enjoy Handel--there are few things that I care for more in the way of

music than his choruses, performed by a grand orchestra--but because

we are neither of us fit to encounter the physical exertion and

inconveniences. It is a cruel thing the difficulty and dearness of

getting any music in England--concerted music, which is the only music

I care for much now. At Dresden we could have thoroughly enjoyable

instrumental music every evening for two-pence; and I owed so many

thoughts and inspirations of feeling to that stimulus.

[Sidenote: Journal, 1859.]

_May 27._--Blackwood came to dine with us on his arrival in London,

and we had much talk. A day or two before he had sent me a letter from

Professor Aytoun, saying that he had neglected his work to read the

first volume of "Adam Bede;" and he actually sent the other two

volumes out of the house to save himself from temptation. Blackwood

brought with him a correspondence he has had with various people about

Liggins, beginning with Mr. Bracebridge, who will have it that Liggins

is the author of "Adam Bede" in spite of all denials.

_June 5._--Blackwood came, and we concocted two letters to send to the

_Times_, in order to put a stop to the Liggins affair.

[Sidenote: Letter to Major Blackwood, 6th June, 1859.]

The "Liggins business" _does_ annoy me, because it subjects you and

Mr. John Blackwood to the reception of insulting letters, and the

trouble of writing contradictions. Otherwise, the whole affair is

really a subject for a Molière comedy--"The Wise Men of Warwickshire,"

who might supersede "The Wise Men of Gotham."

The letter you sent me was a very pleasant one from Mrs. Gaskell,

saying that since she came up to town she has had the compliment paid

her of being suspected to have written "Adam Bede." "I have hitherto

denied it; but really, I think, that as you want to keep your real

name a secret, it would be very pleasant for me to blush acquiescence.

Will you give me leave?"

I hope the inaccuracy with which she writes my name is not

characteristic of a genius for fiction, though I once heard a German

account for the bad spelling in Goethe's early letters by saying that

it was "genial"--their word for whatever is characteristic of genius.

[Sidenote: Letter to Mrs. Congreve, 8th June, 1859.]

I was glad you wrote to me from Avignon of all the places you have

visited, because Avignon is one of my most vivid remembrances from out

the dimness of ten years ago. Lucerne would be a strange region to me

but for Calame's pictures. Through them I have a vision of it, but of

course when I see it 'twill be another Luzern. Mr. Lewes obstinately

nurses the project of carrying me thither with him, and depositing me

within reach of you while he goes to Hofwyl. But at present I say

"No." We have been waiting and waiting for the skies to let us take a

few days' ramble by the river, but now I fear we must give it up till

all the freshness of young summer is gone. July and August are the two

months I care least about for leafy scenery.

However, we are kept at home this month partly by pleasures: the

Handel Festival, for which we have indulged ourselves with tickets,

and the sight of old friends--Mrs. Bodichon among the rest, and for

her we hope to use your kind loan of a bedroom. We are both of us in

much better condition than when you said good-bye to us, and I have

many other sources of gladness just now--so I mean to make myself

disagreeable no longer by caring about petty troubles. If one could

but order cheerfulness from the druggist's! or even a few doses of

coldness and distrust, to prevent one from foolish confidence in one's

fellow-mortals!

I want to get rid of this house--cut cables and drift about. I dislike

Wandsworth, and should think with unmitigated regret of our coming

here if it were not for you. But you are worth paying a price for.

There! I have written about nothing but ourselves this time! _You_ do

the same, and then I think I will promise ... not to write again, but

to ask you to go on writing to me without an answer.

How cool and idle you are this morning! I am warm and busy, but

always, at all temperatures, yours affectionately.

[Sidenote: Journal, 1859.]

_June 20._--We went to the Crystal Palace to hear the "Messiah," and

dined afterwards with the Brays and Sara Hennell. I told them I was

the author of "Adam Bede" and "Clerical Scenes," and they seemed

overwhelmed with surprise. This experience has enlightened me a good

deal as to the ignorance in which we all live of each other.

[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, 24th June, 1859.]

There is always an after sadness belonging to brief and interrupted

intercourse between friends--the sadness of feeling that the

blundering efforts we have made towards mutual understanding have only

made a new veil between us--still more, the sadness of feeling that

some pain may have been given which separation makes a permanent

memory. We are quite unable to represent ourselves truly. Why should

we complain that our friends see a false image? I say this because I

am feeling painfully this morning that, instead of helping you when

you brought before me a matter so deeply interesting to you, I have

only blundered, and that I have blundered, as most of us do, from too

much egoism and too little sympathy. If my mind had been more open to

receive impressions, instead of being in over-haste to give them, I

should more readily have seen what your object was in giving me that

portion of your MS., and we might have gone through the necessary part

of it on Tuesday. It seems no use to write this now, and yet I can't

help wanting to assure you that if I am too imperfect to do and feel

the right thing at the right moment, I am not without the slower

sympathy that becomes all the stronger from a sense of previous

mistake.

[Sidenote: Letter to Mrs. Congreve, 27th June, 1859.]

I am told peremptorily that I am to go to Switzerland next month, but

now I have read your letter, I can't help thinking more of your

illness than of the pleasure in prospect--according to my foolish

nature, which is always prone to live in past pain.

We shall not arrive at Lucerne till the 12th, at the earliest, I

imagine, so I hope we are secured from the danger of alighting

precisely on the days of your absence. That would be cruel, for I

shall only be left at Lucerne for three days. You must positively have

nothing more interesting to do than to talk to me and let me look at

you. Tell your sister I shall be all ears and eyes and no tongue, so

she will find me the most _amiable_ of conversers.

I think it must be that the sunshine makes your absence more

conspicuous, for this place certainly becomes drearier to me as the

summer advances. The dusty roads are all longer, and the shade is

farther off. No more now about anything--except that Mr. Lewes

commands me to say he has just read the "Roman Empire of the West"

with much interest, and is going now to flesh his teeth in the

"Politique" (Auguste Comte's).

[Sidenote: Letter to the Brays, Monday evening, end of June, 1859.]

"DEAR FRIENDS,--All three of you--thanks for your packet of

heartfelt kindness. That is the best of your kindness--there

is no sham in it. It was inevitable to me to have that

outburst when I saw you for a little while after the long

silence, and felt that I must tell you then or be

forestalled, and leave you to gather the truth amidst an

inextricable mixture of falsehood. But I feel that the

influence of talking about my books, even to you and Mrs.

Bodichon, has been so bad to me that I should like to be able

to keep silence concerning them for evermore. If people were

to buzz round me with their remarks, or compliments, I should

lose the repose of mind and truthfulness of production

without which no good, healthy books can be written. Talking

about my books, I find, has much the same malign effect on me

as talking of my feelings or my religion.

"I should think Sara's version of my brother's words

concerning 'Adam Bede' is the correct one--_'that there are

things in it about my father'_ (_i.e._, being interpreted,

things my father told us about his early life), not

'portrait' of my father. There is not a single portrait in

the book, nor will there be in any future book of mine. There

are portraits in the 'Clerical Scenes;' but that was my first

bit of art, and my hand was not well in. I did not know so

well how to manipulate my materials. As soon as the Liggins

falsehood is annihilated, of course there will be twenty new

ones in its place; and one of the first will be that I was

not the sole author. The only safe thing for my mind's

health is to shut my ears and go on with my work.

[Sidenote: Letter to Charles Bray, 5th July, 1859.]

"Thanks for your letters. They have given me one

pleasure--that of knowing that Mr. Liggins has not been

_greatly_ culpable--though Mr. Bracebridge's statement, that

only 'some small sums' have been collected, does not accord

with what has been written to Mr. Blackwood from other

counties. But 'O, I am sick!' Take no more trouble about

me--and let every one believe--as they will, in spite of your

kind efforts--_what they like to believe_. I can't tell you

how much melancholy it causes me that people are, for the

most part, so incapable of comprehending the state of mind

which cares for that which is essentially human in all forms

of belief, and desires to exhibit it under all forms with

loving truthfulness. Freethinkers are scarcely wider than the

orthodox in this matter--they all want to see themselves and

their own opinions held up as the true and the lovely. On the

same ground that an idle woman, with flirtations and

flounces, likes to read a French novel, because she can

imagine herself the heroine, grave people, with opinions,

like the most admirable character in a novel to be their

mouth-piece. If art does not enlarge men's sympathies, it

does nothing morally. I have had heart-cutting experience

that _opinions_ are a poor cement between human souls: and

the only effect I ardently long to produce by my writings is,

that those who read them should be better able to _imagine_

and to _feel_ the pains and the joys of those who differ from

themselves in everything but the broad fact of being

struggling, erring, human creatures.

[Sidenote: Letter to Mrs. Congreve, 6th July, 1859.]

"We shall not start till Saturday, and shall not reach

Lucerne till the _evening_ of the 11th. There is a project of

our returning through Holland, but the attractions of Lucerne

are sure to keep us there as long as possible. We have given

up Zurich in spite of Moleschott and science. The other day I

said to Mr. Lewes, 'Every now and then it comes across me,

like the recollection of some precious little store laid by,

that there is Mrs. Congreve in the world.' That is how people

talk of you in your absence."

[Sidenote: Journal, 1859.]

_July 9._--We started for Switzerland. Spent a delightful day in

Paris. To the Louvre first, where we looked chiefly at the Marriage at

Cana, by Paul Veronese. This picture, the greatest I have seen of his,

converted me to high admiration of him.

_July 12._--Arrived at Lucerne in the evening. Glad to make a home at

the charming Schweizerhof on the banks of the Lake. G. went to call on

the Congreves, and in the afternoon Mrs. Congreve came to chat with

us. In the evening we had a boat on the Lake.

_July 13._--G. set off for Hofwyl at five o'clock, and the three next

days were passed by me in quiet chat with the Congreves and quiet

resting on my own sofa.

_July 19._--Spent the morning in Bâle, chiefly under the

chestnut-trees, near the Cathedral, I reading aloud Flourens's sketch

of Cuvier's labors. In the afternoon to Paris.

_July 21._--Holly Lodge, Wandsworth. Found a charming letter from

Dickens, and pleasant letters from Blackwood; nothing to annoy us.

Before we set off we had heard the excellent news that the fourth

edition of "Adam Bede" (5000) had all been sold in a fortnight. The

fifth edition appeared last week.

[Sidenote: Letter to Mrs. Bray, 23d July, 1859.]

We reached here last evening, and though I was a good deal overdone in

getting to Lucerne, I have borne the equally rapid journey back

without headache--a proof that I am strengthened. I had three quiet

days of talk with the Congreves at Lucerne, while Mr. Lewes went to

Hofwyl. Mrs. Congreve is one of those women of whom there are

few--rich in intelligence, without pretension, and quivering with

sensibility, yet calm and quiet in her manners.

[Sidenote: Letter to John Blackwood, 23d July, 1859.]

I thank you for your offer about the money for "Adam," but I have

intentions of stern thrift, and mean to want as little as possible.

When "Maggie" is done, and I have a month or two of leisure, I should

like to transfer our present house, into which we were driven by haste

and economy, to some one who likes houses full of eyes all round him.

I long for a house with some shade and grass close round it--I don't

care how rough--and the sight of Swiss houses has heightened my

longing. But at present I say Avaunt to all desires.

While I think of it, let me beg of you to mention to the

superintendent of your printing-office, that in case of another

reprint of "Adam," I beg the word "sperrit" (for "spirit") may be

particularly attended to. Adam never said "speerit," as he is made to

do in the cheaper edition, at least in one place--his speech at the

birthday dinner. This is a small matter, but it is a point I care

about.

Words fail me about the not impossible Pug, for some compunction at

having mentioned my unreasonable wish will mingle itself paradoxically

with the hope that it may be fulfilled.

I hope we shall have other interviews to remember this time next year,

and that you will find me without aggravated symptoms of the "author's

malady"--a determination of talk to my own books, which I was

alarmingly conscious of when you and the Major were here. After all, I

fear authors must submit to be something of monsters--not quite

simple, healthy human beings; but I will keep my monstrosity within

bounds if possible.

[Sidenote: Letter to Mrs. Bray, 26th July, 1859.]

The things you tell me are just such as I need to know--I mean about

the help my book is to the people who read it. The weight of my future

life--the self-questioning whether my nature will be able to meet the

heavy demands upon it, both of personal duty and intellectual

production, presses upon me almost continually in a way that prevents

me even from tasting the quiet joy I might have in the _work done_.

Buoyancy and exultation, I fancy, are out of the question when one has

lived so long as I have. But I am the better for every word of

encouragement, and am helped over many days by such a note as yours. I

often think of my dreams when I was four or five and twenty. I thought

then how happy fame would make me! I feel no regret that the fame, as

such, brings no pleasure; but it _is_ a grief to me that I do not

constantly feel strong in thankfulness that my past life has

vindicated its uses and given me reason for gladness that such an

unpromising woman-child was born into the world. I ought not to care

about small annoyances, and it is chiefly egoism that makes them

annoyances. I had quite an _enthusiastic_ letter from Herbert Spencer

the other day about "Adam Bede." He says he feels the better for

reading it--really words to be treasured up. I can't bear the idea of

appearing further in the papers. And there is no one now except

people who would not be convinced, though one rose from the dead, to

whom any statement _apropos_ of Liggins would be otherwise than

superfluous. I dare say some "investigator" of the Bracebridge order

will arise after I am dead and revive the story--and perhaps posterity

will believe in Liggins. Why not? A man a little while ago wrote a

pamphlet to prove that the Waverley novels were chiefly written, not

by Walter Scott, but by Thomas Scott and his wife Elizabeth. The main

evidence being that several people thought Thomas cleverer than

Walter, and that in the list of the Canadian regiment of Scots to

which Thomas belonged many of the _names_ of the Waverley novels

occurred--among the rest _Monk_--and in "Woodstock" there is a

_General Monk_! The writer expected to get a great reputation by his

pamphlet, and I think it might have suggested to Mr. B. his style of

critical and historical inference. I must tell you, _in confidence_,

that Dickens has written to me the noblest, most touching words about

"Adam"--not hyperbolical compliments, but expressions of deep feeling.

He says the reading made an epoch in his life.

[Sidenote: Letter to John Blackwood, 30th July, 1859.]

Pug is come! come to fill up the void left by false and narrow-hearted

friends. I see already that he is without envy, hatred, or

malice--that he will betray no secrets, and feel neither pain at my

success nor pleasure in my chagrin. I hope the photograph does justice

to his physiognomy. It is expressive: full of gentleness and

affection, and radiant with intelligence when there is a savory morsel

in question--a hopeful indication of his mental capacity. I distrust

all intellectual pretension that announces itself by obtuseness of

palate!

I wish you could see him in his best _pose_--when I have arrested him

in a violent career of carpet-scratching, and he looks at me with

fore-legs very wide apart, trying to penetrate the deep mystery of

this arbitrary, not to say capricious, prohibition. He is snoring by

my side at this moment, with a serene promise of remaining quiet for

any length of time; he couldn't behave better if he had been expressly

educated for me. I am too lazy a lover of dogs and all earthly things

to like them when they give me much trouble, preferring to describe

the pleasure other people have in taking trouble.

Alas! the shadow that tracks all earthly good--the possibility of

loss. One may lose one's faculties, which will not always fetch a high

price; how much more a _Pug_ worth unmentionable sums--a PUG which

some generous-hearted personage in some other corner of Great Britain

than Edinburgh may even now be sending emissaries after, being bent on

paying the kindest, most delicate attention to a sensitive mortal not

sufficiently reticent of wishes.

All I can say of that generous-hearted personage No. 2 is, that I wish

he may get--somebody else's Pug, not mine. And all I will say of the

sensitive, insufficiently reticent mortal No. 2 is, that I hope he may

be as pleased and as grateful as George Eliot.

[Sidenote: Letter to Charles L. Lewes, 30th July, 1859.]

I look forward to playing duets with you as one of my future

pleasures; and if I am able to go on working, I hope we shall afford

to have a fine grand-piano. I have none of Mozart's Symphonies, so

that you can be guided in your choice of them entirely by your own

taste. I know Beethoven's Sonata in E flat well; it is a very charming

one, and I shall like to hear you play it. That is one of my

luxuries--to sit still and hear some one playing my favorite music;

so that you may able sure you will find willing ears to listen to the

fruits of your industrious practising.

There are ladies in the world, not a few, who play the violin, and I

wish I were one of them, for then we could play together sonatas for

the piano and violin, which make a charming combination. The violin

gives that _keen edge_ of tone which the piano wants.

I like to know that you were gratified by getting a watch so much

sooner than you expected; and it was the greater satisfaction to me to

send it you, because you had earned it by making good use of these

precious years at Hofwyl. It is a great comfort to your father and me

to think of that, for we, with our old grave heads, can't help talking

very often of the need our boys will have for all sorts of good

qualities and habits in making their way through this difficult life.

It is a world, you perceive, in which cross-bows _will_ be _launisch_

sometimes, and frustrate the skill of excellent marksmen--how much

more of lazy bunglers?

The first volume of the "Physiology of Common Life" is just published,

and it is a great pleasure to see so much of your father's hard work

successfully finished. He has been giving a great deal of labor to the

numbers on the physiology of the nervous system, which are to appear

in the course of two or three months, and he has enjoyed the labor in

spite of the drawback of imperfect health, which obliges him very

often to leave the desk with a hot and aching head. It is quite my

worst trouble that he has so much of this discomfort to bear; and we

must all try and make everything else as pleasant to him as we can, to

make up for it.

Tell Thornton he shall have the book he asks for, if possible--I mean

the book of moths and butterflies; and tell Bertie I expect to hear

about the wonderful things he has done with his pocket-knife. Tell him

he is equipped well enough to become king of a desert island with that

pocket-knife of his; and if, as I think I remember, it has a corkscrew

attached, he would certainly have more implements than he would need

in that romantic position.

We shall hope to hear a great deal of your journey, with all its haps

and mishaps. The mishaps are just as pleasant as the haps when they

are past--that is one comfort for tormented travellers.

You are an excellent correspondent, so I do not fear you will flag in

writing to me; and remember, you are always giving a pleasure when you

write to me.

[Sidenote: Journal, 1859.]

_Aug. 11._--Received a letter from an American--Mr. J. C.

Evans--asking me to write a story for an American periodical. Answered

that I could not write one for less than £1000, since, in order to do

it, I must suspend my actual work.

[Sidenote: Letter to Madame Bodichon, 11th Aug. 1859.]

I do wish much to see more of human life: how can one see enough in

the short years one has to stay in the world? But I meant that at

present my mind works with the most freedom and the keenest sense of

poetry in my remotest past, and there are many strata to be worked

through before I can begin to use, _artistically_, any material I may

gather in the present. Curiously enough, _apropos_ of your remark

about "Adam Bede," there is much less "out of my own life" in that

book--_i.e._, the materials are much more a combination from

imperfectly known and widely sundered elements than the "Clerical

Scenes." I'm so glad you have enjoyed these--so thankful for the words

you write me.

[Sidenote: Journal, 1859.]

_Aug. 12._--Mr. J. C. Evans wrote again, declaring his willingness to

pay the £1000, and asking for an interview to arrange preliminaries.

_Aug. 15._--Declined the American proposition, which was to write a

story of twelve parts (weekly parts) in the _New York Century_ for

£1200.

[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, 15th Aug. 1859.]

I have re-read your whole proof, and feel that every serious reader

will be impressed with the indications of real truth-seeking and

heart-experience in the tone. Beginnings are always troublesome. Even

Macaulay's few pages of introduction to his Introduction in the

English History are the worst bit of writing in the book. It was no

trouble to me to read your proof, so don't talk as if it had been.

[Sidenote: Journal, 1859.]

_Aug. 17._--Received a letter from Blackwood, with check for £200 for

second edition of "Clerical Scenes."

[Sidenote: Letter to John Blackwood, 17th Aug. 1859.]

I'm glad my story cleaves to you. At present I have no hope that it

will affect people as strongly as "Adam" has done. The characters are

on a lower level generally, and the environment less romantic. But my

stories grow in me like plants, and this is only in the leaf-bud. I

have faith that the flower will come. Not enough faith, though, to

make me like the idea of beginning to print till the flower is fairly

out--till I know the end as well as the beginning.

Pug develops new charms every day. I think, in the prehistoric period

of his existence, before he came to me, he had led a sort of Caspar

Hauser life, shut up in a kennel in Bethnal Green; and he has had to

get over much astonishment at the sight of cows and other rural

objects on a large scale, which he marches up to and surveys with the

gravity of an "Own Correspondent," whose business it is to observe.

He has absolutely no bark; but, _en revanche_, he sneezes powerfully,

and has speaking eyes, so the _media_ of communication are abundant.

He sneezes at the world in general, and he looks affectionately at me.

I envy you the acquaintance of a genuine non-bookish man like Captain

Speke. I wonder when men of that sort will take their place as heroes

in our literature, instead of the inevitable "genius?"

[Sidenote: Journal, 1859.]

_Aug. 20._--Letter from the troublesome Mr. Quirk of Attleboro, still

wanting satisfaction about Liggins. I did not leave it unanswered,

because he is a friend of Chrissey's, but G. wrote for me.

[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, 20th Aug. 1859.]

Our great difficulty is _Time_. I am little better than a sick nigger

with the lash behind him at present. If we go to Penmaenmawr we shall

travel all through by night, in order not to lose more than one day;

and we shall pause at Lichfield on our way back. To pause at Coventry

would be a real pleasure to me; but I think, even if we could do it on

our way home, it would be better economy to wait until the sense of

hurry is past, and make it a little reward for work done. The going to

the coast seems to be a wise measure, quite apart from indulgence. We

are both so feeble; but otherwise I should have kept my resolution and

remained quiet here for the next six months.

[Sidenote: Journal, 1859.]

_Aug. 25._--In the evening of this day we set off on our journey to

Penmaenmawr. We reached Conway at half-past three in the morning; and

finding that it was hopeless to get a bed anywhere, we walked about

the town till the morning began to dawn, and we could see the outline

of the fine old castle's battlemented walls. In the morning we went to

Llandudno, thinking that might suit us better than Penmaenmawr. We

found it ugly and fashionable. Then we went off to Penmaenmawr, which

was beautiful to our hearts' content--or rather discontent--for it

would not receive us, being already filled with visitors. Back again

in despair to Conway, where we got temporary lodgings at one of the

numerous Joneses. This particular Jones happened to be honest and

obliging, and we did well enough for a few days in our in-door life,

but out-of-doors there were cold winds and rain. One day we went to

Abergele and found a solitary house called Beach House, which it

seemed possible we might have at the end of a few days. But no! And

the winds were so cold on this northerly coast that George was not

sorry, preferring rather to take flight southward. So we set out again

on 31st, and reached Lichfield about half-past five. Here we meant to

pass the night, that I might see my nieces--dear Chrissey's orphan

children--Emily and Kate. I was much comforted by the sight of them,

looking happy, and apparently under excellent care in Miss Eborall's

school. We slept at the "Swan," where I remember being with my father

and mother when I was a little child, and afterwards with my father

alone, in our last journey into Derbyshire. The next morning we set

off again, and completed our journey to Weymouth. Many delicious walks

and happy hours we had in our fortnight there. A letter from Mr.

Langford informed us that the subscription for the sixth edition of

"Adam Bede" was 1000. Another pleasant incident was a letter from my

old friend and school-fellow, Martha Jackson, asking if the author of

"Adam Bede" was _her_ Marian Evans.

_Sept. 16._--We reached home, and found letters awaiting us--one from

Mr. Quirk, finally renouncing Liggins!--with tracts of an

ultra-evangelical kind for me, and the Parish Mag., etc., from the

Rev. Erskine Clark of St. Michael's, Derby, who had written to me to

ask me to help him in this sort of work.

[Sidenote: Letter to Madame Bodichon, 17th Sept. 1859.]

I have just been reading, with deep interest and heart-stirring, the

article on the Infant Seamstresses in the _Englishwoman's Journal_. I

am one among the grateful readers of that moving description--moving

because the writer's own soul was moved by love and pity in the

writing of it. These are the papers that will make the "Journal" a

true organ with a _function_. I am writing at the end of the day, on

the brink of sleep, too tired to think of anything but that picture of

the little sleeping slop-worker who had pricked her tiny finger so.

[Sidenote: Journal, 1859.]

_Sept. 18._--A volume of devotional poetry from the authoress of

"Visiting my Relations," with an inscription admonishing me not to be

beguiled by the love of money. _In much anxiety and doubt about my new

novel._

_Oct. 7._--Since the last entry in my Journal various matters of

interest have occurred. Certain "new" ideas have occurred to me in

relation to my novel, and I am in better hope of it. At Weymouth I had

written to Blackwood to ask him about terms, supposing I published in

"Maga." His answer determined me to decline. On Monday, the 26th, we

set out on a three days' journey to Lincolnshire and back--very

pleasant and successful both as to weather and the object I was in

search of. A less pleasant business has been a correspondence with a

_crétin_--a Warwickshire magistrate, who undertakes to declare the

process by which I wrote my books--and who is the chief propagator and

maintainer of the story that Liggins is at the bottom of the

"Clerical Scenes" and "Adam Bede." It is poor George who has had to

conduct the correspondence, making his head hot by it, to the

exclusion of more fructifying work. To-day, in answer to a letter from

Sara, I have written her an account of my interviews with my Aunt

Samuel. This evening comes a letter from Miss Brewster, full of

well-meant exhortation.

[Sidenote: Letter to Charles L. Lewes, 7th Oct. 1859.]

The very best bit of news I can tell you to begin with is that your

father's "Physiology of Common Life" is selling remarkably well, being

much in request among medical students. You are not to be a medical

student, but I hope, nevertheless, you will by-and-by read the work

with interest. There is to be a new edition of the "Sea-side Studies"

at Christmas, or soon after--a proof that this book also meets with a

good number of readers. I wish you could have seen to-day, as I did,

the delicate spinal cord of a dragon-fly--like a tiny thread with tiny

beads on it--which your father had just dissected! He is so

wonderfully clever now at the dissection of these delicate things, and

has attained this cleverness entirely by devoted practice during the

last three years. I hope _you_ have some of his resolution and

persistent regularity in work. I think you have, if I may judge from

your application to music, which I am always glad to read of in your

letters. I was a very idle practiser, and I often regret now that when

I had abundant time and opportunity for hours of piano playing I used

them so little. I have about eighteen Sonatas and Symphonies of

Beethoven, I think, but I shall be delighted to find that you can play

them better than I can. I am very sensitive to blunders and wrong

notes, and instruments out of tune; but I have never played much from

ear, though I used to play from memory a great deal. The other evening

Mr. Pigott, whom you remember, Mr. Redford, another friend of your

father's, and Mr. Wilkie Collins dined with us, and we had a charming

musical evening. Mr. Pigott has a delicious tenor voice, and Mr.

Redford a fine barytone. The latter sings "Adelaide," that exquisite

song of Beethoven's, which I should like you to learn. Schubert's

songs, too, I especially delight in; but, as you say, they are

difficult.

[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, 10th Oct. 1859.]

It is pleasant to have to tell you that Mr. Bracebridge has been at

last awakened to do the right thing. This morning came a letter

enclosing the following to me:

"Madame, I have much pleasure on receiving your declaration that

'etc., etc.,' in replying that I frankly accept your declaration as

the truth, and I shall repeat it if the contrary is again asserted to

me."

This is the first symptom we have had from him of common-sense. I am

very thankful--for it ends transactions with him.

Mr. Lewes is of so sensitive a temperament, and so used to feeling

more angry and more glad on my behalf than his own, that he has been

made, several mornings, quite unable to go on with his work by this

irritating correspondence. It is all my fault, for if he didn't see in

the first instance that I am completely upset by anything that arouses

unloving emotions, he would never feel as he does about outer sayings

and doings. No one is more indifferent than he is to what is said

about himself. No more about my business, let us hope, for a long

while to come!

The Congreves are settled at home again now--blessing us with the

sight of kind faces--Mr. Congreve beginning his medical course.

Delicious confusion of ideas! Mr. Lewes, walking in Wandsworth, saw a

good woman cross over the street to speak to a blind man. She accosted

him with, "Well, _I_ knew you, _though you are dark_!"

[Sidenote: Letter to John Blackwood, 16th Oct. 1859.]

I wish you had read the letter you enclosed to me; it is really

curious. The writer, an educated person, asks me to perfect and extend

the benefit "Adam Bede" has "conferred on society" by writing a

_sequel_ to it, in which I am to tell all about Hetty after her

reprieve, "Arthur's efforts to obtain the reprieve, and his desperate

ride after obtaining it--Dinah on board the convict ship--Dinah's

letters to Hetty--and whatever the author might choose to reveal

concerning Hetty's years of banishment. Minor instances of the

incompleteness which induces an unsatisfactory feeling may be alleged

in the disposal of the _locket and earrings_--which everybody expects

to re-appear--and in the incident of the pink silk neckerchief, of

which all would like to hear a little more!!"

I do feel more than I ought about outside sayings and doings, and I

constantly rebuke myself for all that part of my susceptibility, which

I know to be weak and egoistic; still what is said about one's art is

not merely a personal matter--it touches the very highest things one

lives for. _Truth_ in art is so startling that no one can believe in

it as art, and the specific forms of religious life which have made

some of the grandest elements in human history are looked down upon as

if they were not within the artist's sympathy and veneration and

intensely dramatic reproduction. "I do well to be angry" on that

ground, don't I? The simple fact is, that I never saw anything of my

aunt's writing, and Dinah's words came from me "as the tears come

because our heart is full, and we can't help them."

If you were living in London instead of at Edinburgh, I should ask you

to read the first volume of "Sister Maggie" at once, for the sake of

having your impression, but it is inconvenient to me to part with the

MS. The great success of "Adam" makes my writing a matter of more

anxiety than ever. I suppose there is a little sense of responsibility

mixed up with a great deal of pride. And I think I should worry myself

still more if I began to print before the thing is essentially

complete. So on all grounds it is better to wait. How clever and

picturesque the "Horsedealer in Syria" is! I read him with keen

interest, only wishing that he saw the seamy side of things rather

less habitually. Excellent Captain Speke can't write so well, but one

follows him out of grave sympathy. That a man should live through such

things as that beetle in his ear! Such papers as that make the

_specialité_ of _Blackwood_--one sees them nowhere else.

[Sidenote: Journal, 1859.]

_Oct. 16._--Yesterday came a pleasant packet of letters: one from

Blackwood, saying that they are printing a seventh edition of "Adam

Bede" (of 2000), and that "Clerical Scenes" will soon be exhausted. I

have finished the first volume of my new novel, "Sister Maggie;" have

got my legal questions answered satisfactorily, and when my headache

has cleared off must go at it full speed.

_Oct. 25._--The day before yesterday Herbert Spencer dined with us. We

have just finished reading aloud "Père Goriot"--a hateful book. I have

been reading lately and have nearly finished Comte's "Catechism."

_Oct. 28._--Received from Blackwood a check for £400, the last payment

for "Adam Bede" in the terms of the agreement. But in consequence of

the great success, he proposes to pay me £800 more at the beginning of

next year. Yesterday Smith, the publisher, called to make propositions

to G. about writing in the _Cornhill Magazine_.

[Sidenote: Letter to John Blackwood, 28th Oct. 1859.]

I beg that you and Major Blackwood will accept my thanks for your

proposal to give me a further share in the success of "Adam Bede,"

beyond the terms of our agreement, which are fulfilled by the second

check for £400, received this morning. Neither you nor I ever

calculated on half such a success, thinking that the book was too

quiet, and too unflattering to dominant fashion, ever to be very

popular. I hope that opinion of ours is a guarantee that there is

nothing hollow or transient in the reception "Adam" has met with.

Sometimes when I read a book which has had a great success, and am

unable to see any valid merits of an artistic kind to account for it,

I am visited with a horrible alarm lest "Adam," too, should ultimately

sink into the same class of outworn admirations. But I always fall

back on the fact that no shibboleth and no vanity is flattered by it,

and that there is no novelty of mere form in it which can have

delighted simply by startling.

[Sidenote: Journal, 1859.]

_Nov. 10._--Dickens dined with us to-day, for the first time, and

after he left I went to the Congreves, where George joined me, and we

had much chat--about George Stephenson, religion, etc.

[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, 11th Nov. 1859.]

A very beautiful letter--beautiful in feeling--that I have received

from Mrs. Gaskell to-day, prompts me to write to you and let you know

how entirely she has freed herself from any imputation of being

unwilling to accept the truth when it has once clearly presented

itself as truth. Since she has known "on authority" that the two books

are mine, she has re-read them, and has written to me, apparently on

the prompting they gave in that second reading: very sweet and noble

words they are that she has written to me. Yesterday Dickens dined

with us, on _his_ return from the country. That was a great pleasure

to me: he is a man one can thoroughly enjoy talking to--there is a

strain of real seriousness along with his keenness and humor.

[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, 14th Nov. 1859.]

The Liggins affair is concluded so far as any _action_ of ours is

concerned, since Mr. Quirk (the inmost citadel, I presume) has

surrendered by writing an apology to Blackwood, saying he now believes

he was imposed on by Mr. Liggins. As to Miss Martineau, I respect her

so much as an authoress, and have so pleasant a recollection of her as

a hostess for three days, that I wish that distant impression from

herself and her writings to be disturbed as little as possible by mere

personal details. Anything she may do or say or feel concerning me

personally is a matter of entire indifference: I share her bitterness

with a large number of far more blameless people than myself. It can

be of no possible benefit to me, or any one else, that I should know

more of those things, either past, present, or to come. "I do owe no

man anything" except to write honestly and religiously what comes from

my inward promptings; and the freer I am kept of all knowledge of that

comparatively small circle who mingle personal regards or hatred with

their judgment or reception of my writings, the easier it will be to

keep my motives free from all indirectness and write truly.

[Sidenote: Journal, 1859.]

_Nov. 18._--On Monday Dickens wrote, asking me to give him, after I

have finished my present novel, a story to be printed in _All the Year

Round_--to begin four months after next Easter, and assuring me of my

own terms. The next day G. had an interview by appointment with Evans

(of Bradbury & Evans), and Lucas, the editor of _Once a Week_, who,

after preliminary pressing of G. himself to contribute, put forward

their wish that I should give them a novel for their Magazine. They

were to write and make an offer, but have not yet done so. We have

written to Dickens, saying that _time_ is an insurmountable obstacle

to his proposition, as he puts it.

I am reading Thomas à Kempis.

_Nov. 19._--Mr. Lockhart Clarke and Mr. Herbert Spencer dined with us.

_Nov. 22._--We have been much annoyed lately by Newby's advertisement

of a book called "Adam Bede, Junior," a sequel; and to-day Dickens has

written to mention a story of the tricks which are being used to push

the book under the pretence of its being mine. One librarian has been

forced to order the book against his will, because the public have

demanded it. Dickens is going to put an article on the subject in

_Household Words_, in order to scarify the rascally bookseller.

_Nov. 23._--We began Darwin's book on "The Origin of Species"

to-night. Though full of interesting matter, it is not impressive,

from want of luminous and orderly presentation.

_Nov. 24._--This morning I wrote the scene between Mrs. Tulliver and

Wakem. G. went into town and saw young Evans (of Bradbury & Evans),

who agreed that it would be well to have an article in _Punch_ on this

scoundrelly business of "Adam Bede, Junior." A divine day. I walked

out, and Mrs. Congreve joined me. Then music, "Arabian Nights," and

Darwin.

_Nov. 25._--I am reading old Bunyan again, after the long lapse of

years, and am profoundly struck with the true genius manifested in the

simple, vigorous, rhythmic style.

[Sidenote: Letter to the Brays, 25th Nov. 1859.]

Thanks for _Bentley_. Some one said the writer of the article on "Adam

Bede" was a Mr. Mozeley, a clergyman, and a writer in the _Times_; but

these reports about authorship are as often false as true. I think it

is, on the whole, the best review we have seen, unless we must except

the one in the _Revue des Deux Mondes_, by Emile Montégut. I don't

mean to read _any_ reviews of my next book; so far as they would

produce any effect, they would be confusing. Everybody admires

something that somebody else finds fault with; and the miller with his

donkey was in a clear and decided state of mind compared with the

unfortunate writer who should set himself to please all the world of

review writers. I am compelled, in spite of myself, to be annoyed with

this business of "Adam Bede, Junior." You see I am well provided with

thorns in the flesh, lest I should be exalted beyond measure. To part

with the copyright of a book which sells 16,000 in one year--to have a

Liggins and an unknown writer of one's "Sequel" all to one's self--is

excellent discipline.

We are reading Darwin's book on Species, just come out after long

expectation. It is an elaborate exposition of the evidence in favor of

the Development Theory, and so makes an epoch. Do you see how the

publishing world is going mad on periodicals? If I could be seduced by

such offers, I might have written three poor novels, and made my

fortune in one year. Happily, I have no need to exert myself when I

say "Avaunt thee, Satan!" Satan, in the form of bad writing and good

pay, is not seductive to me.

[Sidenote: Journal, 1859.]

_Nov. 26._--Letter from Lucas, editor of _Once a Week_, anxious to

come to terms about my writing for said periodical.

[Sidenote: Letter to Charles L. Lewes, 26th Nov. 1859.]

It was very pretty and generous of you to send me a nice long letter

out of your turn, and I think I shall give you, as a reward, other

opportunities of being generous in the same way for the next few

months, for I am likely to be a poor correspondent, having my head and

hands full.

We have the whole of Vilmar's "Literatur Geschichte," but not the

remainder of the "Deutsche Humoristik." I agree with you in liking the

history of German literature, especially the earlier ages--the

birth-time of the legendary poetry. Have you read the "Nibelungenlied"

yet?

Whereabouts are you in algebra? It would be very pleasant to study it

with you, if I could possibly find time to rub up my knowledge. It is

now a good while since I looked into algebra, but I was very fond of

it in old days, though I dare say I never went so far as you have now

gone. Tell me your latitude and longitude.

I have no memory of an autumn so disappointing as this. It is my

favorite season. I delight especially in the golden and red tints

under the purple clouds. But this year the trees were almost stripped

of their leaves before they had changed color--dashed off by the winds

and rain. We have had _no_ autumnal beauty.

I am writing at night--very tired--so you must not wonder if I have

left out words, or been otherwise incoherent.

[Sidenote: Journal, 1859.]

_Nov. 29._--Wrote a letter to the _Times_, and to Delane about Newby.

[Sidenote: Letter to Madame Bodichon, 5th Dec. 1859.]

I took no notice of the extract you sent me from a letter of Mrs.

Gaskell's, being determined not to engage in any writing on the topic

of my authorship, except such as was absolutely demanded of us. But

since then I have had a very beautiful letter from Mrs. Gaskell, and I

will quote some of her words, because they do her honor, and will

incline you to think more highly of her. She begins in this way:

"Since I heard, on authority, that you were the author of 'Scenes of

Clerical Life' and 'Adam Bede,' I have read them again, and I must

once more tell you how earnestly, fully, and _humbly_ I admire them. I

never read anything so complete and beautiful in fiction in my life

before." Very sweet and noble of her, was it not? She went on to speak

of her having held to the notion of Liggins, but she adds, "I was

never such a goose as to believe that books like yours were a mosaic

of real and ideal." The "Seth Bede" and "Adam Bede, Junior," are

speculations of those who are always ready to fasten themselves like

leeches on a popular fame. Such things must be endured: they are the

shadow to the bright fact of selling 16,000 in one year. As to the

silly falsehoods and empty opinions afloat in some petty circles, I

have quite conquered my temporary irritation about them--indeed, I

feel all the more serene now for that very irritation; it has

impressed on me more deeply how entirely the rewards of the artist lie

apart from everything that is narrow and personal: there is no peace

until that lesson is thoroughly learned. I shall go on writing from

my inward promptings--writing what I love and believe, what I feel to

be true and good, if I can only render it worthily--and then leave all

the rest to take its chance: "As it was in the beginning, is now, and

ever shall be" with those who are to produce any art that will

lastingly touch the generations of men. We have been reading Darwin's

book on the "Origin of Species" just now: it makes an epoch, as the

expression of his thorough adhesion, after long years of study, to the

Doctrine of Development--and not the adhesion of an anonym like the

author of the "Vestiges," but of a long-celebrated naturalist. The

book is sadly wanting in illustrative facts--of which he has collected

a vast number, but reserves them for a future book, of which this

smaller one is the _avant-coureur_. This will prevent the work from

becoming popular as the "Vestiges" did, but it will have a great

effect in the scientific world, causing a thorough and open discussion

of a question about which people have hitherto felt timid. So the

world gets on step by step towards brave clearness and honesty! But to

me the Development Theory, and all other explanations of processes by

which things came to be, produce a feeble impression compared with the

mystery that lies under the processes. It is nice to think of you

reading our great, great favorite Molière, while, for the present, we

are not taking him down from the shelves--only talking about him, as

we do very often. I get a good deal of pleasure out of the sense that

some one I love is reading and enjoying my best-loved writers. I think

the "Misanthrope" the finest, most complete production _of its kind_

in the world. I know you enjoy the "sonnet" scene, and the one between

Arsinoé and Célimène.

[Sidenote: Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, Monday evening, 5th Dec.

1859.]

In opposition to most people who love to _read_ Shakspeare, I like to

see his plays acted better than any others; his great tragedies thrill

me, let them be acted how they may. I think it is something like what

I used to experience in old days in listening to uncultured

preachers--the emotions lay hold of one too strongly for one to care

about the medium. Before all other plays I find myself cold and

critical, seeing nothing but actors and "properties." I like going to

those little provincial theatres. One's heart streams out to the poor

devils of actors who get so little clapping, and will go home to so

poor a supper. One of my pleasures lately has been hearing repeatedly

from my Genevese friends M. and Mme. d'Albert, who were so good to me

during my residence with them. M. d'Albert had read the "Scenes of

Clerical Life" before he knew they were mine, and had been so much

struck with them that he had wanted to translate them. One likes to

feel old ties strengthened by fresh sympathies. The _Cornhill

Magazine_ is going to lead off with great spirit, and promises to

eclipse all the other new-born periodicals. Mr. Lewes is writing a

series of papers for it--"Studies in Animal Life"--which are to be

subsequently published in a book. It is quite as well that your book

should not be ready for publication just yet. February is a much

better time than Christmas. I shall be one of your most eager

readers--for every book that comes from the heart of hearts does me

good, and I quite share your faith that what you yourself feel so

deeply and find so precious will find a home in some other minds. Do

not suspect that I impose on you the task of writing letters to answer

my _dilettante_ questions. "Am I on a bed of roses?" I have four

children to correspond with--the three boys in Switzerland, and Emily

at Lichfield.

[Sidenote: Journal, 1859.]

_Dec. 15._--Blackwood proposes to give me for "The Mill on the Floss"

£2000 for 4000 copies of an edition at 31_s._ 6_d._, and after the

same rate for any more that may be printed at the same price: £150 for

1000 at 12_s._, and £60 for 1000 at 6_s._ I have accepted.

_Dec. 25._--Christmas-day. We all, including Pug, dined with Mr. and

Mrs. Congreve, and had a delightful day. Mr. Bridges was there too.

[Sidenote: Letter to Mrs. Bray, 30th Dec. 1859.]

I don't like Christmas to go by without sending you a greeting, though

I have really nothing to say beyond that. We spent our Christmas-day

with the Congreves, shutting up our house and taking our servant and

Pug with us. And so we ate our turkey and plum-pudding in very social,

joyous fashion with those charming friends. Mr. Bridges was there too.

We are meditating flight to Italy when my present work is done, as our

last bit of vagrancy for a long, long while. We shall only stay two

months, doing nothing but absorb.

I don't think I have anything else to tell, except that we, being very

happy, wish all mortals to be in like condition, and especially the

mortals we know in the flesh. Human happiness is a web with many

threads of pain in it--that is always _sub auditum_--Twist ye, twine

ye, even so, etc., etc.

[Sidenote: Letter to John Blackwood, 3d Jan. 1860.]

I never before had so pleasant a New Year's greeting as your letter

containing a check for £800, for which I have to thank you to-day. On

every ground--including considerations that are not at all of a

monetary kind--I am deeply obliged to you and to Major Blackwood for

your liberal conduct in relation to "Adam Bede."

As, owing to your generous concession of the copyright of "Adam Bede,"

the three books will be henceforth on the same footing, we shall be

delivered from further discussion as to terms.

We are demurring about the title. Mr. Lewes is beginning to prefer

"The House of Tulliver; or, Life on the Floss," to our old notion of

"Sister Maggie." "The Tullivers; or, Life on the Floss," has the

advantage of slipping easily off the lazy English tongue, but it is

after too common a fashion ("The Newcomes," "The Bertrams," etc.,

etc.). Then there is "The Tulliver Family; or, Life on the Floss."

Pray meditate, and give us your opinion.

I am very anxious that the "Scenes of Clerical Life" should have every

chance of impressing the public with its existence: first, because I

think it of importance to the estimate of me as a writer that "Adam

Bede" should not be counted as my only book; and secondly, because

there are ideas presented in these stories about which I care a good

deal, and am not sure that I can ever embody again. This latter reason

is my private affair, but the other reason, if valid, is yours also. I

must tell you that I had another cheering letter to-day besides yours:

one from a person of mark in your Edinburgh University,[9] full of the

very strongest words of sympathy and encouragement, hoping that my

life may long be spared "to give pictures of the deeper life of this

age." So I sat down to my desk with a delicious confidence that my

audience is not made up of reviewers and literary clubs. If there is

any truth in me that the world wants, nothing will hinder the world

from drinking what it is athirst for. And if there is no needful truth

in me, let me, howl as I may in the process, be hurled into the Dom

Daniel, where I wish all other futile writers to sink.

Your description of the "curling" made me envy you the sight.

[Sidenote: Letter to Charles L. Lewes, 4th Jan. 1860.]

The sun is shining with us too, and your pleasant letter made it seem

to shine more brightly. I am not going to be expansive in this

appendix to your father's chapter of love and news, for my head is

tired with writing this morning--it is not so young as yours, you

know, and, besides, is a feminine head, supported by weaker muscles

and a weaker digestive apparatus than that of a young gentleman with a

broad chest and hopeful whiskers. I don't wonder at your being more

conscious of your attachment to Hofwyl now the time of leaving is so

near. I fear you will miss a great many things in exchanging Hofwyl,

with its snowy mountains and glorious spaces, for a very moderate home

in the neighborhood of London. You will have a less various, more

arduous life: but the time of _Entbehrung_ or _Entsagung_ must begin,

you know, for every mortal of us. And let us hope that we shall

all--father and mother and sons--help one another with love.

What jolly times you have had lately! It did us good to read of your

merrymaking.

[Sidenote: Letter to John Blackwood, 6th Jan. 1860.]

"The Mill on the Floss" be it then! The only objections are, that the

mill is not _strictly_ on the Floss, being on its small tributary, and

that the title is of rather laborious utterance. But I think these

objections do not deprive it of its advantage over "The Tullivers;

or, Life on the Floss"--the only alternative, so far as we can see.

Pray give the casting-vote.

Easter Monday, I see, is on the 8th April, and I wish to be out by the

middle or end of March. Illness apart, I intend to have finished Vol.

III. by the beginning of that month, and I hope no obstacle will

impede the rapidity of the printing.

[Sidenote: Journal, 1860.]

_Jan. 11._--I have had a very delightful letter of sympathy from

Professor Blackie of Edinburgh, which came to me on New Year's

morning, and a proposal from Blackwood to publish a third edition of

"Clerical Scenes" at 12_s._ George's article in the _Cornhill

Magazine_--the first of a series of "Studies in Animal Life"--is much

admired, and in other ways our New Year opens with happy omens.

[Sidenote: Letter to John Blackwood, 12th Jan. 1860.]

Thank you for letting me see the specimen advertisements; they have

helped us to come to a decision--namely, for "The Mill on the Floss."

I agree with you that it will be well not to promise the book in

March--not because I do not desire and hope to be ready, but because I

set my face against all pledges that I am not _sure_ of being able to

fulfil. The third volume is, I fancy, always more rapidly written than

the rest. The third volume of "Adam Bede" was written in six weeks,

even with headaching interruptions, because it was written under a

stress of emotion, which first volumes cannot be. I will send you the

first volume of "The Mill" at once. The second is ready, but I would

rather keep it as long as I can. Besides the advantage to the book of

being out by Easter, I have another reason for wishing to have done in

time for that. We want to get away for two months to Italy, if

possible, to feed my mind with fresh thoughts, and to assure ourselves

of that fructifying holiday before the boys are about us, making it

difficult for us to leave home. But you may rely on it that no amount

of horse-power would make me _hurry_ over my book, so as not to do my

best. If it is written fast, it will be because I can't help writing

it fast.

[Sidenote: Journal, 1860.]

_Jan. 16._--Finished my second volume this morning, and am going to

send off the MS. of the first volume to-morrow. We have decided that

the title shall be "The Mill on the Floss." We have been reading

"Humphrey Clinker" in the evenings, and have been much disappointed in

it, after the praise of Thackeray and Dickens.

_Jan. 26._--Mr. Pigott, Mr. Redford, and Mr. F. Chapman dined with us,

and we had a musical evening. Mrs. Congreve and Miss Bury[10] joining

us after dinner.

[Sidenote: Letter to John Blackwood, 28th Jan. 1860.]

Thanks for your letter of yesterday, with the Genevese enclosure. No

promise, alas! of smallest watch expressing largest admiration, but a

desire for "permission to translate."

I have been invalided for the last week, and, of course, am a prisoner

in the castle of Giant Despair, who growls in my ear that "The Mill on

the Floss" is detestable, and that the last volume will be the climax

of that general detestableness. Such is the elation attendant on what

a self-elected lady correspondent of mine from Scotland calls my

"exciting career!"

I have had a great pleasure this week. Dr. Inman of Liverpool has

dedicated a new book ("Foundation for a New Theory and Practice of

Medicine") "to G. H. Lewes, as an acknowledgment of benefit received

from noticing his close observation and clear inductive reasoning in

'Sea-side Studies' and the 'Physiology of Common Life.'"

That is really gratifying, coming from a _physician_ of some

scientific mark, who is _not_ a personal friend.

[Sidenote: Journal, 1860.]

_Feb. 4._--Came this morning a letter from Blackwood announcing the

despatch of the first eight sheets of proof of "The Mill on the

Floss," and expressing his delight in it. To-night G. has read them,

and says, "_Ganz famos!_" Ebenezer!

_Feb. 23._--Sir Edward Lytton called on us. Guy Darrell in _propriâ

personâ_.

[Sidenote: Letter to John Blackwood, 23d Feb. 1860.]

Sir Edward Lytton called on us yesterday. The conversation lapsed

chiefly into monologue, from the difficulty I found in making him

hear, but under all disadvantages I had an agreeable impression of his

kindness and sincerity. He thinks the two defects of "Adam Bede" are

the dialect and Adam's marriage with Dinah; but, of course, I would

have my teeth drawn rather than give up either.

Jacobi told Jean Paul that unless he altered the _dénouement_ of his

Titan he would withdraw his friendship from him; and I am preparing

myself for your lasting enmity on the ground of the tragedy in my

third volume. But an unfortunate duck can only lay blue eggs, however

much white ones may be in demand.

[Sidenote: Journal, 1860.]

_Feb. 29._--G. has been in the town to-day, and has agreed for £300

for "The Mill on the Floss" from Harpers of New York. This evening,

too, has come a letter from Williams & Norgate, saying that Tauchnitz

will give £100 for the German reprint; also, that "Bede Adam" is

translated into Hungarian.

_March 5._--Yesterday Mr. Lawrence, the portrait-painter, lunched with

us, and expressed to G. his wish to take my portrait.

_March 9._--Yesterday a letter from Blackwood, expressing his strong

delight in my third volume, which he had read to the beginning of

"Borne on the tide." To-day young Blackwood called, and told us, among

other things, that the last copies of "Clerical Scenes" had gone

to-day--twelve for export. Letter came from Germany, announcing a

translation of G.'s "Biographical History of Philosophy."

_March 11._--To-day the first volume of the German translation of

"Adam Bede" came. It is done by Dr. Frese, the same man who translated

the "Life of Goethe."

_March 20._--Professor Owen sent me his "Palæontology" to-day. Have

missed two days of work from headache, and so have not yet finished my

book.

_March 21._--Finished this morning "The Mill on the Floss," writing

from the moment when Maggie, carried out on the water, thinks of her

mother and brother. We hope to start for Rome on Saturday, 24th.

_Magnificat anima mea!_

The manuscript of "The Mill on the Floss" bears the following

inscription:

"To my beloved husband, George Henry Lewes, I give this MS.

of my third book, written in the sixth year of our life

together, at Holly Lodge, South Field, Wandsworth, and

finished 21st March, 1860."

[Sidenote: Letter to John Blackwood, 22d March, 1860.]

Your letter yesterday morning helped to inspire me for the last eleven

pages, if they have any inspiration in them. They were written in a

_furor_, but I dare say there is not a word different from what it

would have been if I had written them at the slowest pace.

We expect to start on Saturday morning, and to be in Rome by Palm

Sunday, or else by the following Tuesday. Of course we shall write to

you when we know what will be our address in Rome. In the meantime

news will gather.

I don't mean to send "The Mill on the Floss" to any one except to

Dickens, who has behaved with a delicate kindness in a recent matter,

which I wish to acknowledge.

I am grateful and yet rather sad to have finished--sad that I shall

live with my people on the banks of the Floss no longer. But it is

time that I should go and absorb some new life and gather fresh ideas.

_SUMMARY._

JANUARY, 1859, TO MARCH, 1860.

Looking for cases of _inundation_ in _Annual Register_--New

House--Holly Lodge, Wandsworth--Letter to John

Blackwood--George Eliot fears she has not characteristics of

"the popular author"--Subscription to "Adam Bede" 730

copies--Appreciation by a cabinet-maker--Dr. John Brown sends

"Rab and his Friends" with an inscription--Letter to

Blackwood thereon--Tries to be hopeful--Letters to Miss

Hennell--Description of Holly Lodge--Miss

Nightingale--Thoughts on death--Scott--Mrs. Clarke

writes--Mr. and Mrs. Congreve--Letter to Mrs. Bray on effects

of anxiety--Mrs. Clarke dying--Letter to John

Blackwood--Wishes Carlyle to read "Adam Bede"--"Life of

Frederic" painful--Susceptibility to newspaper

criticism--Edinburgh more encouraging than London--Letter to

Blackwood to stop puffing notices--Letter from E. Hall,

working-man, asking for cheap editions--Sale of "Adam

Bede"--Death of Mrs. Clarke--1800 copies of "Adam Bede"

sold--Letter to Blackwood--Awakening to fame--Letter to

Froude--Mrs. Poyser quoted in House of Commons by Mr. Charles

Buxton--Opinions of Charles Reade, Shirley Brooks, and John

Murray--Letter to John Blackwood--Warwickshire correspondent

insists that Liggins is author of "Adam Bede"--Not flushed

with success--Visit to Isle of Wight--Letter to Miss Hennell

on rewriting, and pleasure in Mr. and Mrs. Congreve--Letter

to _Times_, denying that Liggins is the author--Letter to

Blackwood--The Liggins myth--Letter from Bulwer--Finished

"The Lifted Veil"--Writing "The Tullivers"--Mrs.

Congreve--Letter to Mrs. Congreve--Faith in her--Letter from

Madame Bodichon--Reply breathing joy in sympathy--Letter to

Major Blackwood--Mr. Anders's apology for the Liggins

business--"Adam Bede" worth writing--Dulwich

gallery--Blackwood gives £400 more in acknowledgment of "Adam

Bede's" success--Letter to Miss Hennell on Mrs. Congreve--On

difficulty of getting cheap music in England--Professor

Aytoun on "Adam Bede"--Letter to Major

Blackwood--Liggins--Mrs. Gaskell--Letter to Mrs.

Congreve--Dislike of Wandsworth--To Crystal Palace to hear

"Messiah," and reveals herself to Brays as author of "Adam

Bede"--Letter to Brays--Bad effect of talking of her

books--Letter to Charles Bray--Melancholy that her writing

does not produce effect intended--Letter to Mrs. Congreve--To

Switzerland by Paris--At Schweizerhof, Lucerne, with

Congreves--Mr. Lewes goes to Hofwyl--Return to Richmond by

Bâle and Paris--Fourth edition of "Adam Bede" (5000) sold in

a fortnight--Letter to Mrs. Bray on Mrs. Congreve--On the

effect of her books and fame--Herbert Spencer on "Adam

Bede"--Pamphlet to prove that Scott's novels were written by

Thomas Scott--Letter from Dickens on "Adam Bede" referred

to--Letter to John Blackwood on "Pug"--Letter to Charles

Lewes--"The Physiology of Common Life"--American proposition

for a story for £1200--Letter to Madame Bodichon--Distance

from experience artistically necessary--Letter to John

Blackwood--Development of stories--Visit to

Penmaenmawr--Return by Lichfield to Weymouth--Sixth edition

of "Adam Bede"--Back to Richmond--Anxiety about new

novel--Journey to Gainsboro', Lincolnshire--Letter to Miss

Hennell--End of Liggins business--Letter to John Blackwood--A

correspondent suggests a sequel to "Adam

Bede"--Susceptibility to outside opinion--Seventh edition of

"Adam Bede"--Blackwood proposes to pay £800 beyond the

bargain for success of "Adam Bede"--Dickens dines at Holly

Lodge--Letter to Miss Hennell--Quotes letter from Mrs.

Gaskell--Miss Martineau--Dickens asks for story for _All the

Year Round_--"Adam Bede, Junior"--Reading Darwin on "Origin

of Species"--Bunyan--Letter to Mr. Bray--Article on "Adam

Bede" in _Bentley_--In _Revue des Deux Mondes_, by Emile

Montégut--Reviews generally--16,000 of "Adam Bede" sold in

year--Darwin's book--Letter to Charles Lewes--Mentions

fondness of algebra--Letter to Madame Bodichon quoting Mrs.

Gaskell's letter--Rewards of the artist lie apart from

everything personal--Darwin's book--Molière--Letter to Miss

Hennell--Likes to see Shakspeare acted--Hears from M. and

Mme. d'Albert--_Cornhill Magazine_--Blackwood's terms for

"Mill on the Floss"--Christmas-day with Congreves--Letter of

sympathy from Professor Blackie--Third edition of "Clerical

Scenes"--Letters to Blackwood--Thanks for concession of

copyright of "Adam Bede"--Title of new novel

considered--Suggestion of the "Mill on the Floss"

accepted--The third volume of "Adam Bede" written in six

weeks--Depression with the "Mill"--Sir Edward Lytton--"Adam

Bede" translated into Hungarian and German--"Mill on the

Floss" finished--Letter to Blackwood--Sad at finishing--Start

for Italy.

FOOTNOTES:

[7] Miss Emily Bury, now Mrs. Geddes.

[8] Madame Bodichon.

[9] Professor Blackie.

[10] Mrs. Congreve's sister.