George Eliot's Life, as Related in Her Letters and Journals. Vol. 3 (of 3)

by George Eliot

CHAPTER XIX.

For many weeks after Mr. Lewes's death, George Eliot saw no one except Mr. Charles Lewes, and the very few persons she was obliged to receive on necessary business. She read no letters, and wrote none, but at once began to occupy herself busily with Mr. Lewes's unfinished MSS., in which work Mr. Charles Lewes was able to assist her in the arrangement. The only entry in her diary on the 1st January, 1879, is "Here I and sorrow sit." At the end of two months this desolation had told terribly on her health and spirits; and on the last day of January she was greatly comforted by a visit from Sir James Paget—a friend for whom she had always had the highest and most cordial regard during the many years she had known him. Meantime she had begun to write a few short notes, and she mentions in her journal of 2d January, "A kind letter from Professor Michael Foster, of Cambridge, offering to help me on any physiological point;" and on the 19th January, "Ruminating on the founding of some educational instrumentality as a memorial to be called by his name." There are the following letters in January and February.

Letter to Madame Bodichon, 7th Jan. 1879.

I bless you for all your goodness to me, but I am a bruised creature, and shrink even from the tenderest touch. As soon as I feel able to see anybody I will see you. Please give my love to Bessie[35] and thank her for me—I mean, for her sweet letter. I was a long while before I read any letters, but tell her I shall read hers again and again.

Letter to John Blackwood, 13th Jan. 1879.

It was a long while before I read any letters, and as yet I have written none, except such as business required of me. You will believe that this has not been for want of gratitude to all my friends for their goodness to me. I can trust to your understanding of a sorrow which has broken my life. I write now because I ought not to allow any disproportionate expense to be incurred about my printed sheets.

To me, now, the writing seems all trivial stuff, but since he wished it to be printed, and you seem to concur, I will correct the sheets (if you will send me the remainder) gradually as I am able, and they can be struck off and laid by for a future time. I submit this proposition to your judgment, not knowing what may be most expedient for your printing-office.

Thank you for all your kind words.

Letter to J. W. Cross, 22d Jan. 1879.

Sometime, if I live, I shall be able to see you—perhaps sooner than any one else—but not yet. Life seems to get harder instead of easier.

Letter to J. W. Cross, 30th Jan. 1879.

When I said "sometime" I meant still a distant time. I want to live a little time that I may do certain things for his sake. So I try to keep up my strength, and I work as much as I can to save my mind from imbecility. But that is all at present. I can go through anything that is mere business. But what used to be joy is joy no longer, and what is pain is easier because he has not to bear it.

I bless my friends for all their goodness to me. Please say so to all of them that you know, especially Mr. Hall. Tell him I have read his letter again and again.

If you feel prompted to say anything, write it to me.

Letter to Mrs. Burne-Jones, 4th Feb. 1879.

Do not believe that your love is lost upon me, dear. I bless you for all your goodness to me, and keep every sign of it in my memory.

I have been rather ill lately, but my head is clearer this morning. The world's winter is going, I hope, but my everlasting winter has set in. You know that and will be patient with me.

Letter to Madame Bodichon, 6th Feb. 1879.

Bless you for your loving thought. But for all reasons, bodily and mental, I am unable to move. I am entirely occupied with his manuscripts, and must be on this spot among all the books. Then, I am in a very ailing condition of body—cannot count on myself from day to day—and am not fit to undertake any sort of journey. I have never yet been outside the gate. Even if I were otherwise able, I could not bear to go out of sight of the things he used and looked on.

Bless you once more. If I could go away with anybody I could go away with you.

Letter to J. W. Cross, 7th Feb. 1879.

I do need your affection. Every sign of care for me from the beings I respect and love is a help to me. In a week or two I think I shall want to see you. Sometimes, even now, I have a longing, but it is immediately counteracted by a fear. The perpetual mourner—the grief that can never be healed—is innocently enough felt to be wearisome by the rest of the world. And my sense of desolation increases. Each day seems a new beginning—a new acquaintance with grief.

Letter to J. W. Cross, Saturday, 22d Feb. 1879.

If you happen to be at liberty to-morrow, or the following Friday, or to-morrow week, I hope I shall be well enough to see you. Let me know which day.

On Sunday, the 23d February, I saw her for the first time, and there is the following letter next day.

Letter to J. W. Cross, 24th Feb. 1879.

A transient absence of mind yesterday made me speak as if it were possible for me to entertain your thoughtful, kind proposal that I should move to Weybridge for a short time. But I cannot leave this house for the next two months—if for no other reason, I should be chained here by the need of having all the books I want to refer to.

Letter to John Blackwood, 25th Feb. 1879.

Pray do not announce "Theophrastus" in any way. It would be intolerable to my feelings to have a book of my writing brought out for a long while to come. What I wish to do is, to correct the sheets thoroughly, and then have them struck off and laid by till the time of publication comes. One reason which prompted me to set about the proofs—in addition to my scruples about occupying the type—was that I was feeling so ill, I thought there was no time to be lost in getting done everything which no one else would do if I left it undone. But I am getting better, I think; and my doctors say there is nothing the matter with me to urge more haste than the common uncertainty of life urges on us all.

There is a great movement now among the Jews towards colonizing Palestine, and bringing out the resources of the soil. Probably Mr. Oliphant is interested in the work, and will find his experience in the West not without applicability in the East.

It is a satisfaction to you, I hope, that your son is about to be initiated in George Street. I trust he will one day carry on the good traditions of the name "John Blackwood."

Letter to Madame Bodichon, 5th Mch. 1879.

Your letter, which tells me that you are benefiting by the clear, sunny air, is very welcome. Yes, here too the weather is more merciful, and I drive out most days. I am better bodily, but I never feel thoroughly comfortable in that material sense, and I am incredibly thin. As to my mind, I am full of occupation, but the sorrow deepens down instead of diminishing. I mean to go to Witley in a few months, that I may look again on the spots that he enjoyed, and that we enjoyed together, but I cannot tell beforehand whether I shall care to go again afterwards.

Everybody is very kind to me, and by and by I shall begin to see a few intimate friends. I can do or go through anything that is business or duty, but time and strength seem lacking for everything else. You must excuse my weakness, remembering that for nearly twenty-five years I have been used to find my happiness in his. I can find it nowhere else. But we can live and be helpful without happiness, and I have had more than myriads who were and are better fitted for it.

I am really very busy, and have been sadly delayed by want of health. One project I have entered on is to found a studentship, which will be called after his name. I am getting help from experienced men.

Letter to John Blackwood, 5th Mch. 1879.

I send the corrected sheets of "Theophrastus," and shall be much obliged if you will order a complete revise to be sent me before they are struck off. Whenever the book is published (I cannot contemplate its appearing before June, and if that is a bad time it must stand over till the autumn season) I beg you kindly to write for me a notice, to be printed on the fly-leaf, that the MS. was placed in your hands last November, or simply last year.

I think you will enter into my feeling when I say that to create a notion on the part of the public of my having been occupied in writing "Theophrastus" would be repugnant to me. And I shrink from putting myself forward in any way.

I hope you are benefiting by the milder weather. I drive out a little now, but you must be prepared to see me a much changed creature. I think I should hardly know myself.

Journal, 1879.

March 8.—Gertrude[36] and the children came to tea.

March 9.—Mr. Henry Sidgwick came to discuss the plan of the studentship.

March 13.—Professor Michael Foster came to discuss the studentship, and we arrived at a satisfactory clearness as to the conditions. He mentioned as men whom he thought of as suitable trustees, Huxley, Pye Smith, Thiselton Dyer, Francis Balfour, and Henry Sidgwick.

Letter to Mrs. Burne-Jones, 20th Mch. 1879.

Dear Friend,—When you have time to come to me about six o'clock I shall love to see you.

Journal, 1879.

March 22.—Mrs. Congreve came again. Mrs. Burne-Jones came.

Letter to William Blackwood, 25th Mch. 1879.

I am so dissatisfied with "Theophrastus" on reading the revise that I have proposed to suppress it in this original form, and regenerate it whenever—if ever—I recover the power to do so. You see the cruel weather has travelled after you. It makes one feel every grievance more grievously in some respects, though to me the sunshine is in one sense sadder.

Journal, 1879.

March 30.—Mr. Bowen (now Lord Justice Bowen) came, Mr. Spencer, and J.

Letter to John Blackwood, 5th April, 1879.

After weighing what you have said, I agree to the publication of "Theophrastus" in May. If you had at all suspected that the book would injure my influence, you would not have wished me to give it forth in its present form, and in the uncertainty of one's inner and outer life it is not well to depend on future capabilities. There are some things in it which I want to get said, and if the book turned out to be effective in proportion to my other things, the form would lend itself to a "second series"—supposing I lived and kept my faculties.

As to the price for the right of translating, you will judge. If you will kindly undertake these negotiations for me, I shall be thankful. And pray remember that I don't want the book to be translated, so that it will be well to wait for the application, and to ask a sufficient sum to put the publisher on his guard as to the selection of a translator. But, of course, this little book cannot be paid for according to the difficulty of translation.

You see, I have been so used to have all trouble spared me that I am ready to cast it on any willing shoulders. But I am obliged now to think of business in many ways.

I am so glad to know that Mrs. Blackwood has the comfort of a good report about you from the doctors. Perhaps it may seem to you the wrong order of sympathy to be glad for your sake in the second place.

Journal, 1879.

April 8.—Mrs. Stuart came.

Mrs. Stuart was a devoted friend whose acquaintance had been formed some years before through the presentation of some beautiful wood-carving which she had executed as an offering to George Eliot.

Letter to Frederic Harrison, 8th April, 1879.

Dear Friends,—Will you come to see me some day? I am always in from my drive and at liberty by half-past four. Please do not say to any one that I am receiving visitors generally. Though I have been so long without making any sign, my heart has been continually moved with gratitude towards you.

Letter to Madame Bodichon, 8th April, 1879.

Your letter was very welcome this morning, for I do not like to be very long without having some picture of you, and your words of affection are always sweet.

The studentship I mention is to supply an income to a young man who is qualified and eager to carry on physiological research, and would not otherwise have the means of doing so. Mr. H. Sidgwick, Michael Foster, and other men of kindred mind are helping me in settling the scheme. I have been determined in my choice of the studentship by the idea of what would be a sort of prolongation of his life. That there should always, in consequence of his having lived, be a young man working in the way he would have liked to work, is a memorial of him that comes nearest my feeling. It is to be at Cambridge to begin with, and we thought at first of affiliating it to the university; but now the notion is that it will be well to keep it free, so that the trustees may move it where and when they will. But the scheme is not yet drafted.

I am going to bring out one of "The Problems" in a separate volume at the beginning of May, and am now correcting the proofs.

My going to Witley is an experiment. I don't know how I shall bear being there, but I hope there will be nothing to hinder my having you there if you will undertake the troublous journey for my sake.

Letter to John Blackwood, 9th April, 1879.

I enclose the proof of title-page and motto. Whether the motto (which is singularly apt and good) should be on the title-page or fly-leaf I leave you to judge. Certainly, everybody who does not read Latin will be offended by its claiming notice, and will consider that only the deepest-dyed pedantry could have found the motive for it. But I will not leave it out altogether.

I have had such various letters from time to time, asking me to reprint or write essays, that, perhaps, some of the public will not be disappointed that the volume is not a story. But that must be as it may; and if you think the acceptance dubious, it is much the better plan not to stereotype.

What energy there is in Mr. Kinglake in spite of the somewhat shattered health that his Wesen gives one the impression of! Among incidents of war that one can dwell on with anything like gladness, that account of the rescue of the colors at Isandlana is memorable, is it not?

I go out every day, drive beyond the ranks of hideous houses in the Kilburn outskirts, and get to lanes where I can walk, in perfect privacy, among the fields and budding hedgerows.

I hope Mr. Julian Sturgis will take care of his writing and do something lasting. He seems to me to have a strain above the common in him; and he is not writing for his bread, or even his butter. I don't know why I say this just now, except that I had it in my mind to say long ago, and it has just come upper-most as I was thinking of the Magazine.

Letter to Professor Kaufmann, 17th April, 1879.

Your kind letter has touched me very deeply. I confess that my mind had, more than once, gone out to you as one from whom I should like to have some sign of sympathy with my loss. But you were rightly inspired in waiting till now, for during many weeks I was unable even to listen to the letters which my generous friends were continually sending me. Now, at last, I am eagerly interested in every communication that springs out of an acquaintance with my husband and his works.

I thank you for telling me about the Hungarian translation of his "History of Philosophy;" but what would I not have given if the volumes could have come, even only a few days, before his death! For his mind was perfectly clear, and he would have felt some joy in that sign of his work being effective.

I do not know whether you will enter into the comfort I feel that he never knew he was dying, and fell gently asleep after ten days of illness, in which the suffering was comparatively mild.

One of the last things he did at his desk was to despatch a manuscript of mine to the publishers. The book (not a story, and not bulky) is to appear near the end of May, and, as it contains some words I wanted to say about the Jews, I will order a copy to be sent to you.

I hope that your labors have gone on uninterruptedly for the benefit of others, in spite of public troubles. The aspect of affairs with us is grievous—industry languishing, and the best part of our nation indignant at our having been betrayed into an unjustifiable war in South Africa.

I have been occupied in editing my husband's MSS., so far as they are left in sufficient completeness to be prepared for publication without the obtrusion of another mind instead of his. A brief volume on "The Study of Psychology" will appear immediately, and a further volume of psychological studies will follow in the autumn. But his work was cut short while he still thought of it as the happy occupation of far-stretching months. Once more let me thank you for remembering me in my sorrow.

Letter to J. W. Cross, 22d April, 1879.

I am in dreadful need of your counsel. Pray come to me when you can—morning, afternoon, or evening.

From this time forward I saw George Eliot constantly. My mother had died in the beginning of the previous December, a week after Mr. Lewes; and, as my life had been very much bound up with hers, I was trying to find some fresh interest in taking up a new pursuit. Knowing very little Italian, I began Dante's "Inferno" with Carlyle's translation. The first time I saw George Eliot afterwards, she asked me what I was doing, and, when I told her, exclaimed, "Oh, I must read that with you." And so it was. In the following twelve months we read through the "Inferno" and the "Purgatorio" together; not in a dilettante way, but with minute and careful examination of the construction of every sentence. The prodigious stimulus of such a teacher (cotanto maestro) made the reading a real labor of love. Her sympathetic delight in stimulating my newly awakened enthusiasm for Dante did something to distract her mind from sorrowful memories. The divine poet took us into a new world. It was a renovation of life. At the end of May I induced her to play on the piano at Witley for the first time; and she played regularly after that whenever I was there, which was generally once or twice a week, as I was living at Weybridge, within easy distance.

Besides Dante, we read at this time a great many of Sainte-Beuve's "Causeries," and much of Chaucer, Shakespeare, and Wordsworth. But I am anticipating. We will return to the correspondence in its order.

Letter to John Blackwood, 22d April, 1879.

When I shall be able to get to Witley is altogether uncertain. The cold winds make one less hungry for the country, but still it will be a relief to me, in some respects, to get away from town. I am much stronger than I was, and am again finding interest in this wonderful life of ours. But I am obliged to keep my doors closed against all but the few until I go away. You, however, I shall hope to see. I am founding a studentship of Physiology, to be called "The George Henry Lewes Studentship." It will be placed, in the first instance, at Cambridge, where there is the best physiological school in the kingdom. But the trustees (with my consent during my life) will have the power of moving it where they judge best. This idea, which I early conceived, has been a great stay to me. But I have plenty to think of, plenty of creatures depending on me, to make my time seem of some value. And there are so many in the world who have to live without any great enjoyment.

Journal, 1879.

April 26.—Mr. and Mrs. Hall came.

Letter to Mrs. Burne-Jones, 3d May, 1879.

If you can come to me next week for a parting word, will you try to learn beforehand whether and when your husband can give me half an hour at the end of his working-day? I should like to see him before I go, which I hope to do soon after the 13th.

Journal, 1879.

May 6.—Mr. and Mrs. Call, Eleanor and Florence (Cross) came.

May 8.—Mr. Burne-Jones came.

May 10.—Edith Simcox and Mr. Pigott came.

May 13.—Dr. Andrew Clark came and gave me important suggestions about the studentship.

May 21.—Saw Mr. Anthony Trollope.

May 22.—Came down to Witley—lovely mild day.

Letter to James Sully, 28th May, 1879.

Mr. Lewes always wrote the dramatic criticisms in the Leader, and for a year or two he occasionally wrote such criticisms in the Pall Mall. Of the latter, the chief were reprinted in the little book on "Actors, and the Art of Acting." What was written in the Fortnightly (1865-66) is marked by signature. The most characteristic contributions to the Cornhill (1864-65) were "The Mental Condition of Babies," "Dangers and Delights of Tobacco," "Was Nero a Monster?" "Shakespeare in France," and "Miseries of a Dramatic Author."

But after 1866 his contributions to any periodical were very scanty—confined to a few articles in the Pall Mall Gazette, one on "The Reign of Law," in the Fortnightly, and the series on Darwin, now incorporated in "The Physical Basis of Mind." After these, his sole contributions were an article on Dickens (1872), two on "Spiritualism" and "Mesmerism" (1876), and one on "The Dread and Dislike of Science" (1878).

Charles, I think, mentioned to you my desire that you should do me the valuable service of looking over the proofs of the remaining volume of "Problems," and you were so generous as to express your willingness to undertake that labor. The printing will not begin till after the 16th—Dr. Michael Foster, who has also kindly offered to help me in the same way, not being sufficiently at leisure till after that date.

I have been rather ill again lately, but am hoping to benefit by the country quietude. You, too, I am sorry to hear, are not over strong. This will make your loan of mind and eyesight all the more appreciated by me.

Letter to Mrs. Burne-Jones, 3d June, 1879.

Your letter, full of details—just the sort of letter I like to have—has been among my comforts in these last damp, chill days. The first week I was not well, and had a troublesome attack of pain, but I am better, and try to make life interesting by always having something to do.

I am wishing Margaret many happy returns of this day, and am making a picture of you all keeping the little fête. A young birthday, when the young creature is promising, is really a happy time; one can hope reasonably; and the elder ones may be content that gladness has passed onward from them into newer vessels. I should like to see the blue-eyed maid with her bangles on her arms.

Please give my love to all and sundry who make any sign of love for me; and any amount you like is ready for you to draw upon.

Letter to Frederic Harrison, 10th June, 1879.

I am greatly obliged to you for sending me the paper you are to read to-day; and I appreciate it the more highly because your diligence is in contrast with the general sluggishness of readers about any but idle reading. It is melancholy enough that to most of our polite readers the social factor in psychology would be a dull subject; for it is certainly no conceit of ours which pronounces it to be the supremely interesting element in the thinking of our time.

I confess the word factor has always been distasteful to me as the name for the grandest of forces. If it were only mathematical I should not mind, but it has many other associated flavors which spoil it for me.

Once more—ever more—thanks.

Letter to Charles L. Lewes, 10th June, 1879.

You will like to know that Mr. Frederic Harrison has sent me a brief paper, which is to be read to-day at the Metaphysical Society, on the "Social Factor in Psychology," opening with a quotation from the "Study of Psychology," and marking throughout his high appreciation of your father's work. Also the Rector of Lincoln College, Oxford, kindly sent (with his initials only) to Trübner four errata which he had found in reading the "Study of Psychology." Trübner did not know who was the kind corrector, and very properly sent the paper to me, offering to have the corrections made on the plates if I wished it. I said, "By all means," and have written to thank the Rector. What a blessing to find a man who really reads a book!

I have received the enclosed letter, with other papers (about country lodgings at Sevenoaks for poor children). Will you look out a single copy of as many of my books (poems included) as you can find, and send them in a parcel, saying that they come from me for the Free Library? Please not to mind this trouble, as it is for the impecunious readers. (You know I am nothing if not "sesquipedalian" and scientific; and a word of five syllables will do for both qualities.)

I wish you could see Coquelin in Tabourin. He is a wonderful actor, when he gets the right part for him. He has a penetrating personality that one cannot be indifferent to, though possibly it may be unpleasant to some people.

Letter to William Blackwood, 12th June, 1879.

I was beginning, with my usual apprehensiveness, to fear that you had no good news to tell me, since I did not hear from you, and I should have gone on fearing till to-morrow morning if I had not happened to drive to Godalming and ask for the second post. We only get one post a day at the benighted Witley, so that if you want me to get a letter quickly it must be posted early at Edinburgh.

I am heartily glad to know that the invalid is going on well, and I trust that the softer air we are having now will help him forward.

"Theophrastus" seems to be really welcomed by the public. Mr. Blackwood will be amused to hear that one gentleman told Charles, or implied, that "Theophrastus" was a higher order of book, and more difficult to write than a novel. Wait long enough, and every form of opinion will turn up. However, poor "Theophrastus" is certainly not composed of "chips" any more than my other books.

Another amusing bit of news is, that the other day Mrs. Pattison sent me an extract from the livret of the Paris Salon, describing a picture painted by a French artist from "The Lifted Veil," and representing the moment when the resuscitated woman, fixing her eyes on her mistress, accuses her of having poisoned her husband. I call this amusing—I ought rather to have said typical of the relation my books generally have with the French mind.

Thank you for sending me the list of orders. It does interest me to see the various country demands. I hope the movement will continue to cheer us all, and you are sure to let me know everything that is pleasant, so I do not need to ask for that kindness.

The weather is decidedly warmer, and Tuesday was a perfectly glorious day. But rain and storm have never let us rest long together. I am not very bright, and am ready to interpret everything in the saddest sense, but I have no definite ailment.

My best regards to the convalescent, who, I have no doubt, will write to me when he is able to do so. But I am only one of many who will be glad to hear from him.

Letter from Madame Bodichon to Miss Bonham-Carter, 12th June, 1879.

"I spent an hour with Marian (5th June). She was more delightful than I can say, and left me in good spirits for her—though she is wretchedly thin, and looks, in her long, loose, black dress, like the black shadow of herself. She said she had so much to do that she must keep well—'the world was so intensely interesting.' She said she would come next year to see me. We both agreed in the great love we had for life. In fact, I think she will do more for us than ever."

Letter to John Blackwood, 20th June, 1879.

I have been having my turn of illness of rather a sharp kind. Yesterday, when your letter came, I was in more acute pain than I have ever known in my life before, but before the morning was over I was sufficiently relieved to read your pleasant news. I am writing in bed, but am in that most keenly conscious ease which comes after unusual suffering. The way in which the public takes "Theophrastus" is really a comfort to me. I have had some letters, not of the complimentary, but of the grateful kind, which are an encouragement to believe in the use of writing. But you would be screamingly amused with one, twenty-three pages long (from an Edinburgh man, by-the-bye), who has not read the book, but has read of it, and thinks that his own case is still more worthy of presentation than Merman's.

I think a valuable series (or couple of volumes) might be made up from "Maga" of articles written hot by travellers and military men, and not otherwise republished—chronicles and descriptions by eye-witnesses—which might be material for historians.

What a comfort that the Afghan war is concluded! But on the back of it comes the black dog of Indian finance, which means, alas! a great deal of hardship to poor Hindûs. Let me hear more news of you before long.

Letter to Mrs. Burne-Jones, 29th June, 1879.

Your description of the effects you feel from the restless, tormenting winds would serve well to represent my experience too. It seems something incredible written in my memory that when I was a little girl I loved the wind—used to like to walk about when it was blowing great guns. And now the wind is to me what it was to early peoples—a demon-god, cruelly demanding all sorts of human sacrifices. Thank you, dear, for caring whether I have any human angels to guard me. None are permanently here except my servants, but Sir James Paget has been down to see me, I have a very comfortable country practitioner to watch over me from day to day, and there is a devoted friend who is backward and forward continually to see that I lack nothing.

It is a satisfaction to me that you felt the need for "Debasing the Moral Currency" to be written. I was determined to do it, though it might make me a stone of stumbling and rock of offence to all the comic tribe.

Do not rate my illness too high in the scale of mortal misery. I am prone to make much of my ailments, and am among the worst at enduring pain.

Letter to John Blackwood, 29th June, 1879.

Thank you for sending me the pretty little book.[37] I am deeply touched by the account of its origin, and I remember well everything you said to me of Mr. Brown in old days when he was still with you. I had only cut a very little way into the volume when a friend came and carried it off, but my eyes had already been arrested by some remarks on the character of Harold Transome, which seemed to me more penetrating and finely felt than almost anything I have read in the way of printed comment on my own writing. When my friend brings back the volume I shall read it reverentially, and most probably with a sense of being usefully admonished. For praise and sympathy arouse much more self-suspicion and sense of shortcoming than all the blame and depreciation of all the Pepins.

I am better, and I hope on the way to complete recovery, but I am still at some distance from that goal. Perhaps if the winds would give one some rest from their tormenting importunity, both you and I should get on faster.

I am looking forward to reading the "Recollections of Ekowe" in "Maga," which came to me yesterday, with its list of my own doings and misdoings on the cover.

Does not this Zulu war seem to you a horribly bad business?

Letter to Charles L. Lewes, 30th June, 1879.

Sir Henry Maine has sent me the one letter that has rejoiced my heart about the "Study of Psychology." He says: "In this branch of Mr. Lewes's studies I am almost as one of the ignorant, but I think I have understood every sentence in the book, and I believe I have gained great knowledge from it. It has been the most satisfactory piece of work I have done for a long time." I have written to tell him that he has rescued me from my scepticism as to any one's reading a serious book except the author or editor.

Letter to Madame Bodichon, 2d July, 1879.

The sight of your handwriting on the pamphlet sent me urges me to do the sooner what I should have already done but for a rather sharp illness, which has kept me chiefly in bed for nearly a fortnight, and from which I am not yet quite free.

I enclose a copy of Michael Foster's draft of conditions for the studentship, which I put into the lawyer's hands some ten or twelve days ago, and which is now come to me drawn up in legal form. You said it would interest you to see the draft, and I have been bearing this in mind, but have not been able to go to the desk where the copy lay.

I hope to hear that you have been going on well despite the cruel, restless winds and sad intermittence of sunshine. On the 12th I am going to have two daughters-in-law, five grandchildren, and servant for a week—if I can get well enough, as I have good hope now that I shall. The strawberries will be ripe then, and as I don't eat any myself it would be dolorous not to be able to have the children, and see them enjoy the juicy blessing.

Letter to John Blackwood, 16th July, 1879.

I was beginning to want some news of you, and was almost ready to ask for it. It is the more welcome for having had time to ripen into a decidedly good report of your condition. About myself I have a very poor story to tell, being now in the fifth week of a troublesome illness, in which, like you, I have been partly fed on "poisonous decoctions." To-day, however, happens to show a considerable improvement in my symptoms, and I have been walking in the warmer air with more ease than hitherto. Driving I have not been able to manage for some time, the motion of the carriage shaking me too much. The best of care has been taken of me. I have an excellent country doctor (Mr. Parsons of Godalming) who watches me daily; and Sir James Paget and Dr. Andrew Clark have been down to add their supervision. I begin to think that if I can avoid any evil condition, such as a chill that would bring on a relapse, I may soon be pretty well again. The point to be achieved is to stop the wasting of my not too solid flesh.

I am glad to hear that the third edition of "Theophrastus" has had so lively a movement. If the remainder should be sold off I think it would be well just to print a small number of copies to carry on, and avoid bringing out a cheaper edition too soon after people have been paying for the expensive one.

I have been always able to write my letters and read my proofs, usually in bed before the fatigue of dressing, but the rest of my time has been very unprofitable—spent chiefly in pain and languor. I am feeling easy now, and you will well understand that after undergoing pain this ease is opening paradise. Invalids must be excused for being eloquent about themselves.

Letter to Mrs. Burne-Jones, 22d July, 1879.

I feel a perhaps too selfish need to tell you that things have gone ill with me since I last wrote to you. Why do I want to let you know this not agreeable news about myself? Chiefly because I want you to be quite clear that if I do not write to say, "When can you come to me?" it is not from indifference, but from misfortune of another sort. Meanwhile it will do me good to have little items of news from you, when you can find half an hour for the kind deed of writing me a letter. What helps me most is to be told things about others, and your letters are just of the sort I like to have.

I am just now in one of my easier hours, and the demon wind has abated. He seems to enter into my pains with hideous rejoicing.

Letter to James Sully, 7th Aug. 1879.

Thank you for your kind note. There are to be more than as many proofs as you have already had, for which I must crave the valuable aid of your reading.

You will understand all the better how much comfort it is to me to have your help as well as Professor Foster's, when I tell you that for the last eight weeks I have been seriously out of health, and have often been suffering much pain—a state which I imagine you know by experience to heighten all real anxieties, and usually to create unreal.

It cheers me to be told by you that you think the volume interesting. In reading the MS. again and again I had got into a state of tremor about it which deprived me of judgment—just as if it were writing of my own, which I could not trust myself to pronounce upon.

I hope that your own health, and Mrs. Sully's too, will have been benefited by your change from south to north.

Letter to Mrs. Burne-Jones, 11th Aug. 1879.

I think that I am really getting better, and shall have to stay among the minority in this world a little longer than I had expected.

Will you send me word how long you shall be at liberty, and whether you would think it worth while to come down to me one morning and stay till the afternoon of the following day? Your letter is delightful to me. Several spiritual kisses for it.

Letter to Mrs. Peter Taylor, 19th Aug. 1879.

Thank you for your sweet affection. I have had rather a trying illness, which lasted, without great relief, for nearly eight weeks. But I hope that I am now out of it—that is, so far established that I may go on without a relapse. The cold weather was against me, as it was and is against much more important matters. The days of warmth and sunlight which have now and then blessed us have been my best medicine, though I acknowledge the benefit of pepsin and steel, and many other drugs. The gray skies and recurring rain are peculiarly dispiriting to me, and one seems to feel their influence all the more for the wide, beautiful view of field and hill which they sadden and half conceal. In town one thinks less of the sky.

If you are ever writing to our dear Mrs. William Smith do give my love to her, and tell her I am very grateful to her for the letter she wrote me with the postmark Ventnor upon it. With her usual delicacy of feeling she did not send her address, so that I could not write in return.

Letter to William Blackwood, 3d Sept. 1879.

I am much obliged to you for writing me your letter of pleasant news.

It is wonderful how "Theophrastus" goes on selling in these bad times, and I have only to hope in addition that the buyers will be the better for it. Apparently we shall get through this last edition before Christmas, and then perhaps you will think of adding the volume to the Cabinet Edition. I am especially rejoiced to hear that your uncle is better again, and I trust that Strathtyrum is sharing our sunshine, which will be the best cure for him as for me. I am getting strong, and also am gaining flesh on my moderate scale. It really makes a difference to one's spirits to think that the harvest may now possibly be got in without utter ruin to the produce and unhappy producers. But this year will certainly prove a serious epoch, and initiate many changes in relation to farming. I fear, from what I have read, that the rich Lothians will have to be called compassionately the poor Lothians. By the way, if you happen to want any translation done from the French, and have not just the right person to do it, I think I can recommend a Miss Bradley Jenkins, of 50 Cornwall Road, Wesbourne Park, as one who has an unusually competent knowledge of French. We sat side by side on the same form translating Miss Edgeworth into French when we were girls.

I have not seen her for many years, but I know that she has been engaged in a high order of teaching, and I have lately heard from her that she is anxious to get work of the kind in question. She already spoke French well when we were pupils together, and she has since been an unintermitting student.

I wonder, talking of translators, how the young Mr. Ferrier is going on, who translated Kaufmann's pamphlet on "Deronda." What Mr. Blackwood told me of him interested me about his future.

Oblige us all by not falling into another accident when the next hunting season comes.

Letter to Madame Bodichon, 3d Sept. 1879.

Before I received your letter the other day I was intending to write to you to ask whether, now that I am stronger and the fine weather shows some signs of permanence, you feel any revival of the inclination to come and see me for a couple of days. I hardly like to propose your taking the journey, now that you are not being brought near me by other visits—for the railway from you to us is, I think, rather tiresome. But if your inclination really lies towards coming you will be affectionately welcomed.

About the sea-side I am hopeless. The latter part of October is likely to be too cold for me to move about without risk of chills; and I hope to be back in town before the end of the month. I am not very fond of the sea-side, and this year it is likely to be crowded with people who have been hindered by the bad weather from going earlier. I prefer the Surrey hills and the security from draughts in one's own home. The one attraction of a coast place to me is a great breadth of sand to pace on when it is in its fresh firmness after the fall of the tide. But the sea itself is melancholy to me, only a little less so under warm sunlight, with plenty of fishing-smacks changing their shadows. All this is to let you know why I do not yield to the attraction of being with you, where we could chat as much or as little as we liked. I feel very much your affectionateness in wishing to have me near you.

Write me word soon whether you feel able to come as far as this for my sake.

Letter to James Sully, 10th Sept. 1879.

I have read the article[38] with very grateful feelings. I think that he would himself have regarded it as a generally just estimate. And I am much obliged to you for sending it to me in proof.

Your selection of subjects for remark, and the remarks themselves, are in accordance with my feeling to a comforting extent; and I shall always remain your debtor for writing the article.

I trust you will not be forced to omit anything about his scientific and philosophical work, because that is the part of his life's labor which he most valued.

Perhaps you a little underrate the (original) effect of his "Life of Goethe in Germany." It was received with enthusiasm, and an immense number of copies, in both the English and German form, have been sold in Germany since its appearance in 1854.

I wish you were allowed to put your name to the article.

Letter to Mrs. Peter Taylor, 17th Sept. 1879.

I am getting strong now after a long spell of medical discipline. All these long months I have been occupied with my husband's manuscripts: also with the foundation of a Physiological Studentship, which is my monument to his memory, and which is now all settled, as you may perhaps have seen by advertisements.[39] But I am not yet through the proof-reading of the final volume of "Problems of Life and Mind," which will contain the last sheets he ever wrote.

I hear very good accounts of Madame Bodichon, who is coming to me for a couple of days on the 29th.

You are wonderful for life and energy, in spite of your delicate looks. May you have all the strength you need for your sympathetic tasks!

Letter to James Sully, 7th Oct. 1879.

I have not yet thanked you—and I do so now very gratefully—for the help you have given me in my sad and anxious task. Your eyes have been a most precious aid, not only as a matter of fact, but as a ground of confidence. For I am not at all a good proof-reader, and have a thorough distrust of myself.

Letter to Mrs. Burne-Jones, 18th Oct. 1879.

I cannot wish not to have been cheered by your triple letter, even though I have caused you to rise earlier in the morning, and to feel a disproportionate remorse. "Maggior difetto men vergogna lava," as says Virgil to the blushing Dante. And you have given me the fuller measure because I had to wait a little.

Your legend of "Fair Women" interests me very much. I feel a citizen of the world again, knowing all the news. But the core of good news in your letter is that your husband is well again, and again happy in his work. Your collapse is what I feared for you; and you must call the getting change of air and scene—I was going to say "a duty," but are you one of those wonderful beings who find everything easier under that name? But at least one prefers doing a hard duty to grimacing with a pretence of pleasure in things that are no pleasure.

I am greatly comforted this morning by the fact that the (apparently) right man is found for the George Henry Lewes Studentship—an ardent worker, who could not have carried on his pursuit without this help. I know you are not unmindful of what touches me deeply.

Go on your visit, dear, and come back well—then show yourself without unnecessary delay to your loving friend.

Letter to Charles L. Lewes, Saturday, 20th Oct. 1879.

I have had a delightful bit of news from Dr. Foster this morning. He had mentioned to me before that there was an Edinburgh student whom he had in his mind as the right one to elect. This morning he writes: "The trustees meet to-morrow to receive my nomination. I have chosen Dr. Charles Roy, an Edinburgh man, and Scotchman—not one of my own pupils. He is, I think, the most promising—by far the most promising—of our young physiologists, putting aside those who do not need the pecuniary assistance of the studentship. And the help comes to him just when it is most needed—he is in full swing of work, and was casting about for some means of supporting himself which would least interfere with his work, when I called his attention to the studentship. I feel myself very gratified that I can, at the very outset, recommend just the man, as it appears to me, for the post."

This is a thing your father would have chosen as a result of his life.

Letter to Charles L. Lewes, Tuesday, 27th Oct. 1879.

I have just had some news that grieves me. Mr. Blackwood is dangerously ill, and I fear, from Mr. William's letter, that there is little hope of recovery. He will be a heavy loss to me. He has been bound up with what I most cared for in my life for more than twenty years; and his good qualities have made many things easy to me that, without him, would often have been difficult.[40]

I wrote to Mr. Trübner to tell him that the printing of the "Problems" being finished, I should be glad if he would arrange with you about the conditions of publication. Bear in mind your father's wish that the volumes should not be made dearer than necessary.

I am going to Weybridge on Friday, and I intend to be at the Priory by Saturday before dusk. But it is just possible I may be detained till Monday morning. So if you have any good occupation for Sunday you had better call on your way home on Monday.

Letter to Miss Eleanor Cross, 29th Oct. 1879.

Your affectionate note would quite have determined me to do what, when your brother kindly proposed it, raised a certain longing in me. I thought that I should like to see you all in the remembered home again. But I have had a little check in health, and I am feeling so depressed that I shrink from making any engagement which involves others.

A visitor to-day and my own languor threatens to throw me backward in my arrangements for leaving, and I have a sense of impossibility about everything that, under other conditions, would be a pleasure. I am afraid lest a fit of sadness should make me an oppression to you all; and my conclusion this morning is that I must give up the few hours' happiness of feeling your family love around me as I used to do, and simply go straight up to town with my servants.

But if Friday morning brings me better hopes I will telegraph to you, since you allow me to wait till the eleventh hour. If you receive no telegram you will understand that I am still too downhearted to venture on a visit even to those who are among the best-loved of my friends. In that case you must all make me amends for my loss by coming to see me in the old place in town.

Came to Weybridge on 31st October, and returned to the Priory on 1st November.

Letter to Mrs. Burne-Jones, 8th Nov. 1879.

I came here just a week ago, and I had a superstition that you would come to me yesterday. But I used no enchantments—and so you didn't come.

Letter to Miss Sara Hennell, 22d Nov. 1879, from the Priory.

I am very grateful to you for your kind letter. News about you all had been much desired by me; but I have now so many business letters to write that I am apt to defer such as are not absolutely necessary. The careful index is a sign of your effective industry, and I have no doubt that it will be a great help to yourself as well as to your readers. One very often needs an index to one's own writing. My chief objects are quite completed now. The Dr. Roy appointed to the studentship is held by competent persons to be the most hopeful of our young physiologists: and there is a volume of 501 pages (the last) of "Problems of Life and Mind" ready to appear next month. I am quite recovered from the ailment which made me good for little in the summer, and indeed am stronger than I ever expected to be again. People are very good to me, and I am exceptionally blessed in many ways; but more blessed are the dead who rest from their labors, and have not to dread a barren, useless survival.

Letter to Mrs. Peter Taylor, 6th Dec. 1879, from the Priory.

I am very well, dear kind friend, all things considered. One cannot help getting occasional chills and headaches in this hard, wintry time.

Oh, yes, I read the Times with great interest, and am much concerned to know what my contemporaries are doing. My time is very fully occupied, for I have now to write a great many letters, such as used to be written for me, and I would willingly spend the time thus taken up in another sort of reading and writing.

Letter to Mrs. Peter Taylor, 5th Jan. 1880.

Thank you a thousand times, my dear friend, for your tender New Year's greeting and inquiries. I have passed well from "under the saws and harrows" of the severe cold, and am better, both in apparent organic soundness and in strength for all occupation, than I once thought was possible for me.

Our dear Barbara is painting in water colors again from her window—just as of old. I know you will be glad to hear of this. And I am now seeing many other friends, who interest me and bring me reports of their several worlds. The great public calamities of the past year have helped to quiet one's murmuring spirit in relation to private sorrows, and the prospect for the future is not yet very bright. One thinks of mothers like Mrs. Ruck, whose best-loved sons are in Afghanistan. But we must live as much as we can for human joy, dwelling on sorrow and pain only so far as the consciousness of it may help us in striving to remedy them.

Letter to Mrs. Burne-Jones, 19th Jan. 1880.

Life has seemed worse without my glimpses of you. And now I have not the amends of thinking that you are out of our Egyptian darkness and getting health in the country. I must drive over to ask about you as soon as I can.

As the year went on, George Eliot began to see all her old friends again. But her life was nevertheless a life of heart-loneliness. Accustomed as she had been for so many years to solitude à deux, the want of close companionship continued to be very bitterly felt. She was in the habit of going with me very frequently to the National Gallery, and to other exhibitions of pictures, to the British Museum sculptures, and to South Kensington. This constant association engrossed me completely, and was a new interest to her. A bond of mutual dependence had been formed between us. On the 28th March she came down to Weybridge and stayed till the 30th; and on the 9th April it was finally decided that our marriage should take place as soon, and as privately, as might be found practicable.

Letter to Miss Eleanor Cross, 13th April, 1880.

You can hardly think how sweet the name sister is to me, that I have not been called by for so many, many years.

Without your tenderness I do not believe it would have been possible for me to accept this wonderful renewal of my life. Nothing less than the prospect of being loved and welcomed by you all could have sustained me. But now I cherish the thought that the family life will be the richer and not the poorer through your brother's great gift of love to me.

Yet I quail a little in facing what has to be gone through—the hurting of many whom I care for. You are doing everything you can to help me, and I am full of gratitude to you all for his sake as well as my own. The springs of affection are reopened in me, and it will make me better to be among you—more loving and trustful.

I valued Florence's little visit very much. You and she will come again—will you not?—to your sister.

Letter to Frederic Harrison, 19th April, 1880.

I have found the spot in "The Prelude" where the passage I mentioned occurs. It is in book viii., "The Retrospect," towards the end:

"The human nature unto which I felt
That I belonged, and reverenced with love,
Was not a punctual presence, but a spirit
Diffused through time and space, with aid derived
Of evidence from monuments, erect,
Prostrate, or leaning towards their common rest
In earth, the widely scattered wreck sublime
Of vanished nations."

The bit of brickwork in the rock is

"With aid derived from evidence."

I think you would find much to suit your purpose in "The Prelude," such as—

"There is
One great society alone on earth:
The noble Living and the noble Dead."

Except for travelling, and for popular distribution, I prefer Moxon's one-volumed edition of Wordsworth to any selection. No selection gives you the perfect gems to be found in single lines, or in half a dozen lines which are to be found in the "dull" poems.

I am sorry Matthew Arnold has not included the sonnet beginning—

"I griev'd for Buonaparté with a vain
And an unthinking grief—"

and which has these precious lines,

"'Tis not in battles that from youth we train
The governor who must be wise and good,
And temper with the sternness of the brain
Thoughts motherly, and meek as womanhood.
Wisdom doth live with children round her knees."

Has he the magnificent sonnet on Toussaint l'Ouverture? I don't know where there is anything finer than the last eight lines of it.

Please don't acknowledge this note, else you will neutralize my pleasure in sending it by making me feel that I have given you trouble.

Letter to the Hon. Lady Lytton, 24th April, 1880.

The beautiful photograph has reached me safely, and I am very grateful to you for your kindness in sending it to me. In comparing it with the photograph which you gave me seven or eight years ago I see the effect of a saddening experience which the years must bring to us all, but, to my feeling, the face is the more endearing because of that effect.

You have been very often in my thoughts, because I have associated you with public affairs, and have imagined sympathetically how they must have affected your private life. I am sure that this momentous experience in India has been a hard discipline both for you and for Lord Lytton. I can imagine he has often been sick at heart with the near vision, which his post forces on him, of human meanness and rancor. You, too, must have gathered some melancholy knowledge of that sort, which has perhaps changed a little the curves of the mouth and the glance of the eyes since those Vienna days, when the delightful M. de Villers helped to make the hours pleasant to us.

I saw the photographs of your daughters, which gave me an idea how fast the dramatic authoress has developed physically as well as mentally. When I first saw her at Vienna she was the prettiest little rosebud.

Mrs. Strachey called the other day when I was out, and among other reasons for my being sorry not to have seen her, was the having missed some authentic news about your probable movements. What happens to you will always have interest for me, since I have long been, with sincere regard, yours most truly.

On the 24th April George Eliot came down to Weybridge, and stayed till the 26th.

Letter to James Sully, 26th April, 1880.

I am deeply obliged to you for the care with which you have treated the final volume of "The Problems" in the Academy, which you have kindly sent me. I think you could hardly have written more effectively towards exciting an interest in the work in the minds of the comparatively few who really care for the study of psychology. You have added one more to the obligations which will make me always yours gratefully.

Letter to Madame Bodichon, 5th May, 1880.

I have something to tell you which will doubtless be a great surprise to you; but since I have found that other friends, less acquainted with me and my life than you are, have given me their sympathy, I think that I can count on yours. I am going to do what not very long ago I should myself have pronounced impossible for me, and therefore I should not wonder at any one else who found my action incomprehensible. By the time you receive this letter I shall (so far as the future can be matter of assertion) have been married to Mr. J. W. Cross, who, you know, is a friend of years, a friend much loved and trusted by Mr. Lewes, and who, now that I am alone, sees his happiness in the dedication of his life to me. This change in my position will make no change in my care for Mr. Lewes's family, and in the ultimate disposition of my property. Mr. Cross has a sufficient fortune of his own. We are going abroad for a few months, and I shall not return to live at this house. Mr. Cross has taken the lease of a house, No. 4 Cheyne Walk, Chelsea, where we shall spend the winter and early spring, making Witley our summer home.

I indulge the hope that you will some day look at the river from the windows of our Chelsea house, which is rather quaint and picturesque.

Please tell Bessie[41] for me, with my love to her. I cannot write to more than two or three persons.

Letter to Mrs. Congreve, 5th May, 1880.

A great, momentous change is going to take place in my life. My indisposition last week and several other subsequent circumstances have hindered me from communicating it to you, and the time has been but short since the decision was come to. But with your permission Charles will call on you and tell you what he can on Saturday.

Yours and Emily's ever, with unchanging love.

Journal, 1880.

May 6.—Married this day at 10.15 to John Walter Cross, at St. George's, Hanover Square. Present, Charles, who gave me away, Mr. and Mrs. Druce, Mr. Hall, William, Mary, Eleanor, and Florence Cross. We went back to the Priory, where we signed our wills. Then we started for Dover and arrived there a little after five o'clock.

Letter to Miss Eleanor Cross, 9th May, 1880.

Your letter was a sweet greeting to us on our arrival here yesterday.

We had a millennial cabin on the deck of the Calais-Douvres, and floated over the strait as easily as the saints float upward to heaven (in the pictures). At Amiens we were very comfortably housed, and paid two enraptured visits, evening and morning, to the cathedral. I was delighted with J.'s delight in it. And we read our dear old cantos of the "Inferno" that we were reading a year ago, declining afterwards on "Eugénie Grandet." The nice woman who waited on us made herself very memorable to me by her sketch of her own life. She went to England when she was nineteen as a lady's maid—had been much ennuyée de sa mère, detested les plaisirs, liked only her regular every-day work and la paix.

Here we have a very fair appartement, and plenty of sunlight, au premier. Before dinner we walked up to the Arc de l'Étoile and back again, enjoying the lovely greenth and blossoms of the horse-chestnuts, which are in their first glory, innocent of dust or of one withered petal. This morning at twelve o'clock we are going to the Russian church, where J. has never been, and where I hope we shall hear the wonderful intoning and singing as I heard it years ago.

This is the chronicle of our happy married life, three days long—all its happiness conscious of a dear background in those who are loving us at Weybridge, at Thornhill, and at Ranby.

You are all inwoven into the pattern of my thoughts, which would have a sad lack without you. I like to go over again in imagination all the scene in the church and in the vestry, and to feel every loving look from the eyes of those who were rejoicing for us. Besides Professor Sellar's letter, which touched J. with grateful surprise, we have had one to him from Mr. Frederic Harrison, saying everything affectionate, and two very finely felt letters from Edith Simcox—one to him enclosing the one to me. Certainly, she has a rare generosity and elevation which find their easy channel in writing. My love to Henry and to the gentle Berthe,[42] who was an invisible presence at our wedding.

I think I must thank Florence, too, for her letter to J.; for we accept to the full the principle of "what is mine is thine" on each side. What most comforted him this morning was a letter from Albert Druce about the Chelsea house. His usual exclamation over anything from Albert is that his brother-in-law is the most satisfactory of men!

Write us word about everything, and consider yourselves all very much loved and spiritually petted by your loving sister.

Letter to Charles L. Lewes, 21st May, 1880, from Grenoble.

This place is so magnificently situated, in a smiling valley, with the Isère flowing through it, and surrounded by grand and various lines of mountains, and we were so enraptured by our expedition yesterday to the Grande Chartreuse that we congratulate ourselves greatly on our choice of route. I think it unlikely that we shall want to wander beyond the second week in July. We shall begin to long for home just when the rest of the London world are longing for travel. We are seeing nature in her happiest moment now—the foliage on all the tremendous heights, the soft slopes, and the richly clad valleys on the way to the Chartreuse is all fresh and tender, shone through by a sunlight which cherishes and does not burn us. I had but one regret in seeing the sublime beauty of the Grande Chartreuse. It was that the Pater had not seen it. I would still give up my own life willingly if he could have the happiness instead of me. But marriage has seemed to restore me to my old self. I was getting hard, and if I had decided differently, I think I should have become very selfish. To feel daily the loveliness of a nature close to me, and to feel grateful for it, is the fountain of tenderness and strength to endure.

Glorious weather always, and I am very well—quite amazingly able to go through fatigue.

Letter to Miss Florence Cross, 25th May, 1880.

Our life since we wrote to you has been a chapter of delights—Grenoble—Grande Chartreuse—Chambéry—paradisiacal walk to Les Charmettes—roses gathered in Jean Jacques' garden—Mont Cenis Tunnel and emergence into Italian sunshine. Milan, comfortable appartement, delicious privacy, and great minds condescending to relax themselves! We got here yesterday, and of course our first walk was to the post, where we found your delightful budget and other letters, which we took to a café in the grand galleria and read at our ease to the accompaniment of tea.

Two of my letters yesterday touched me very gratefully. One was from "Brother Jimmy"—the prettiest letter possible. The other letter that moved me was one from my own brother. Then J. had a graceful letter of congratulation from Mr. Henry James, who is still at Florence. I think you did not send that letter of Mr. Edmund Gurney's which you mention. I am fond of seeing the letters which put my friends in an amiable light for my imagination. And now that I have had that charming letter from my new brother in America, I feel that my family initiation is complete. No woman was ever more sweetly received by brothers and sisters than I have been; and it is a happy, new longing in my life that I may return into their bosoms some of the gladness they have poured into mine.

I have been uninterruptedly well, and feel quite strong with all sorts of strength except strong-mindedness. We are going to hear the music in the Duomo at eleven, and after that we intend to pay our first visit to the Brera gallery. It is our present plan to stay here for some days, and we enjoy the thought of a little stationary life such as we have not had since we left Paris. We often talk of our sisters, oftener think of them. You are our children, you know.

Letter to Isaac P. Evans, 26th May, 1880.

Your letter was forwarded to me here, and it was a great joy to me to have your kind words of sympathy, for our long silence has never broken the affection for you which began when we were little ones. My husband, too, was much pleased to read your letter. I have known his family for eleven years, and they have received me among them very lovingly. The only point to be regretted in our marriage is that I am much older than he; but his affection has made him choose this lot of caring for me rather than any other of the various lots open to him.

Emily Clarke has lately sent me rather a sad account of Sarah's[43] health. I trust that it is now better, for I think it is her lungs that chiefly trouble her, and summer may act beneficently on them. Please give my love to her, and tell her that I like the assurance of her share in the good wishes you send me.

I have often heard of Frederick[44] through the admiration of those who have heard him preach; and it has been a happy thought to me that you and Sarah must feel it a great comfort to have him as well as Walter settled near you.

Edith is the only one of your children whom I have seen since they have been grown up, and I thought her a noble-looking woman.

We are going to remain abroad until some time in July, and shall then return to the Heights, Witley, Surrey. Our home in London will be 4 Cheyne Walk, Chelsea, looking on a very picturesque bit of the river.

I hope that your own health is quite good now, and that you are able to enjoy the active life which I know you are fond of. Always your affectionate sister.

Letter to Charles L. Lewes, 28th May, 1880.

Many thanks for your delightful letter, which came to me yesterday, with a loving though brief letter from Mrs. Congreve to keep it company in making the day agreeable.

We arrived here on Monday, and have been induced by a nice quiet apartment and pleasant attendance to carry out our plan of resting here and deliberately seeing what is to be seen in this cheerful, prosperous city. I am glad to find that the Luini pictures come up to my remembrance, and that J. is much impressed by his introduction to them. I continue remarkably well, and am every day surprising myself by the amount of walking, standing, and looking that I can go through. To-morrow or the next day we intend to go on to Verona, then, after a sufficient pause to enjoy that glorious place, we shall move on to Padua and Venice, where it will be best for you to send anything you may have to send. I like to see the letters. They make one realize the fact of one's home and little world there amid the dreaminess of foreign travel. We take our meals in our own apartment and see nothing of our fellow-guests in the hotel—only hear their British and American voices when they air themselves in the cortile after their dinner.

The weather has hitherto been delicious, not excessively warm, always with a pleasant movement in the air; but this morning there is a decided advance in heat, and we shall both have our theory of great heat being the best thing for us well tested in the next month.

Letter to Madame Bodichon, 29th May and 1st June, 1880, from Verona.

The change I make in the date of this letter is a sign of the difficulty you well know that one finds in writing all the letters one wants to write while travelling. Ever since Charles forwarded to me your dear letter while I was in Paris I have been meaning to write to you. That letter was doubly sweet to me because it was written before you received mine, intended to inform you of my marriage before it appeared in the newspapers. Charles says that my friends are chiefly hurt because I did not tell them of the approaching change in my life. But I really did not finally, absolutely, decide—I was in a state of doubt and struggle—until only a fortnight before the event took place, so that at last everything was done in the utmost haste. However, there were four or five friends, of whom you were one, to whom I was resolved to write, so that they should at least get my letter on the morning of the 6th.

I had more than once said to Mr. Cross that you were that one of my friends who required the least explanation on the subject—who would spontaneously understand our marriage. But Charles sends me word that my friends in general are very sympathetic, and I should like to mention to you that Bessie[45] is one whose very kind words he has sent to me, for you may have an opportunity of giving my love to her, and telling her that it is very sweet to me to feel that her affection is constant to me in this as it was in other crises of my life. I wish, since you can no longer come in and out among us as you used to do, that you already knew my husband better. His family welcome me with the uttermost tenderness. All this is wonderful blessing falling to me beyond my share, after I had thought that my life was ended, and that, so to speak, my coffin was ready for me in the next room. Deep down below there is a hidden river of sadness, but this must always be with those who have lived long—and I am able to enjoy my newly reopened life. I shall be a better, more loving creature than I could have been in solitude. To be constantly, lovingly grateful for the gift of a perfect love is the best illumination of one's mind to all the possible good there may be in store for man on this troublous little planet.

We leave Verona to-day, and stay a little at Padua on our way to Venice. Hitherto we have had delightful weather, and just the temperature we rejoice in. We are both fond of warmth, and could bear more heat than we have the prospect of at present.

Yesterday we had a drive on the skirting heights of Verona, and saw the vast fertile plain around, with the Euganean hills, blue in the distance, and the Apennines just dimly visible on the clear margin of the horizon. I am always made happier by seeing well-cultivated land.

We came into Italy by way of Grenoble (seeing the Grande Chartreuse), Chambéry, and the Mont Cenis Tunnel; since then we have been staying at Milan and enjoying the Luini frescoes and a few other great things there. The great things are always by comparison few, and there is much everywhere one would like to help seeing, after it has once served to give one a notion of historical progression.

We shall stay at Venice for ten days or a fortnight; so if you have a scribe, or would write yourself, to tell me that all is going on well with you, the letter would not, as the Scotch say, "go amissing."

Letter to Charles L. Lewes, 9th June, 1880, from Venice.

We both enjoyed reading your letter on the morning after our arrival at this enchanting city, where the glorious light, with comparative stillness and total absence of dust, makes a paradise much more desirable than that painted by Tintoretto on the wall of the Consiglio Maggiore. Nothing but the advent of mosquitoes would make it easy for us to tear ourselves away from this place, where every prospect pleases, but also where one is obliged to admit that man is somewhat vile. I am sadly disappointed in the aspect of the Venetian populace. Even physically they look less endowed than I thought them when we were here under the Austrian dominion. We have hardly seen a sweet or noble woman's face since we arrived; but the men are not quite so ill-looking as the women. The singing here (by itinerant performers in gondolas) is disgraceful to Venice and to Italy. Coarse voices, much out of tune, make one shudder when they strike suddenly under the window.

Our days here are passed quite deliciously. We see a few beautiful pictures or other objects of interest, and dwell on them sufficiently every morning, not hurrying ourselves to do much; and afterwards we have a giro in our gondola, enjoying the air and the sight of marvellous Venice from various points of view and under various aspects. Hitherto we have had no heat, only warmth, with a light breeze. To-day, for the first time, one thinks that violent exercise must be terribly trying for our red-skinned fellow-mortals at work on the gondolas and the barges. But for us it is only pleasant to find the air warm enough for sitting out in the evening. We shall not soon run away from Venice unless some plague—e.g., mosquitoes—should arise to drive us. We edify ourselves with what Ruskin has written about Venice, in an agreeable pamphlet shape, using his knowledge gratefully, and shutting our ears to his wrathful innuendoes against the whole modern world. And we are now nearly at the end of Alfieri's autobiography, which is a deeply interesting study of character.

Letter to Mrs. Congreve, 10th June, 1880.

It may well seem incredible to you, for it is hardly credible to myself, that while I have been longing to write to you ever since I received your dear letter, I have not found the time to satisfy my longing. Perhaps you are more able than most people to conceive the difficulty of getting a clear half-hour between the business of travelling and the attention to little details of packing and toilet, over and above the companionship of talk and reading. Certainly I have thought of you all the more, but you have not known that, and I have lost my claim to hear about you—a use and wont which I would not willingly part with.

I wonder whether you have imagined—I believe that you are quick to imagine for the benefit of others—all the reasons why it was left at last to Charles to tell you of the great, once undreamed-of change in my life. The momentous decision, in fact, was not made till scarcely more than a fortnight before my marriage; and even if opportunity had lent itself to my confiding everything to you, I think I could hardly have done it at a time when your presence filled me rather with a sense of your and Emily's trouble[46] than with my own affairs. Perhaps Charles will have told you that the marriage deprives no one of any good I felt bound to render before—it only gives me a more strenuous position, in which I cannot sink into the self-absorption and laziness I was in danger of before. The whole history is something like a miracle-legend. But instead of any former affection being displaced in my mind, I seem to have recovered the loving sympathy that I was in danger of losing. I mean, that I had been conscious of a certain drying-up of tenderness in me, and that now the spring seems to have risen again. Who could take your place within me or make me amends for the loss of you? And yet I should not take it bitterly if you felt some alienation from me. Such alienation is very natural where a friend does not fulfil expectations of long standing.

We have already been ten days at Venice, but we hope to remain as long again, not fearing the heat, which has hitherto been only a false alarm in the minds of English travellers. If you could find time to send me word how you all are—yourself, Dr. Congreve after his holiday, and Emily, with all her cares about removal—a letter sent to the Poste Restante here would reach me, even if we had left before the next ten days were over. We shall hardly be at Witley before the middle of July: but the sense of neighborhood to you at Witley is sadly ended now.

We thought too little of the heat, and rather laughed at English people's dread of the sun. But the mode of life at Venice has its peculiar dangers. It is one thing to enjoy heat when leading an active life, getting plenty of exercise in riding or rowing in the evenings; it is another thing to spend all one's days in a gondola—a delicious, dreamy existence—going from one church to another—from palaces to picture-galleries—sight-seeing of the most exhaustively interesting kind—traversing constantly the piccoli rei, which are nothing more than drains, and with bedroom-windows always open on the great drain of the Grand Canal. The effect of this continual bad air, and the complete and sudden deprivation of all bodily exercise, made me thoroughly ill. As soon as I could be moved we left Venice, on the 23d of June, and went to Innspruck, where we stayed for a week, and in the change to the pure, sweet, mountain air I soon regained strength.

Letter to Charles L. Lewes, 7th July, 1880, from Stuttgart.

I was made very glad by Gertrude's letter, which assured me that Witley had been enjoyed by you and the little ones. We stayed six days at Innspruck, finding it more and more beautiful under the sunshine which had been wanting to it during our first two days. Then we went on to Munich, and yesterday we arrived here, as a temporary resting-place on our way to Wildbad, which, we hope, will put the finishing-touch to J.'s recovery of his usual health.

I wish I had been able to let you know in time that you could have remained a little longer at Witley, as I think we shall hardly be at home before the 20th if we find Wildbad what we want. Your Mutter is marvellously well and strong. It seems more natural to her to have anxiety than to be free from it. Let us hope that she will not run down like a jelly-fish now that her anxiety is over.

Letter to Charles L. Lewes, 13th July, 1880, from Wildbad.

I received your welcome letter yesterday morning, and felt inclined to answer it the next minute. J. is quite well again, but is inclined to linger a little in the sweet air of the Schwarzwald, which comes to one on gently stirred wings, laden with the scent of the pine forests. We mean to drive from here to Baden, which is within easy distance.

Yesterday we sallied forth for a walk over the mountain, to a place where we could rest and lunch, returning in the afternoon. The sky was brilliant. But in half an hour the clouds gathered and threatened a storm. We were prudent enough to turn back, and by the time we were in the hotel again the thunder was rolling and the rain pouring down. This continued till about two o'clock, and then again the sky became clear. I never saw so incalculable a state of weather as we have in this valley. One quarter of an hour the blue sky is only flecked by lightest cirrus clouds, the next it is almost hidden by dark rain clouds. But we are going to start on our promised expedition this morning, the sunshine flattering us that it is quite confirmed.

I think you had better address your next letter Poste Restante, Strasburg, as I am uncertain how long we shall rest at Baden.

Left Wildbad on the 17th July, and had a delightful drive through the Black Forest by Herrenalb to Baden, and thence by Strasburg, Metz, Luxemburg, and Brussels, arriving at Witley on Monday the 26th of July.

Letter to Madame Bodichon, 1st Aug. 1880.

We arrived here in all safety last Monday, and if I had not had your welcome little note this morning I think I should soon have written to you without any such extra stimulus.

Mr. Cross had a sharp but brief attack at Venice, due to the unsanitary influences of that wondrous city in the later weeks of June. We stayed a little too long there, with a continuous sirocco blowing, and bad smells under the windows of the hotel; and these conditions found him a little below par from long protracted anxiety before our marriage. But ever since we left Venice (on the 23d of June) he has been getting strong again, and we have enjoyed a leisurely journey through Germany in constant warmth and sunshine, save for an occasional thunderstorm. The climate in this beloved country of ours is a sad exchange, and makes one think of a second bad harvest, with all its consequences. Still, it is a delight to be at home and enjoy perfect stillness, after the noisiness of foreign bells and foreign voices indoors and out. It would be very pretty to pay you a visit next April, if we are all alive, and I think Mr. Cross would like it very much. He sends you, hoping you will accept them, his best remembrances, which have been kept up by our often talking about you. I have been amazingly well through all the exertion of our travels, and in the latter half of the time have done a great deal of walking.

Letter to Mrs. Peter Taylor, 2d Aug. 1880.

How sweet of you to write me a little welcome as soon as you knew that I was at home again.

Yes, we are both well now, and glad to be at home again, though the change of climate is not of the exhilarating sort. One is so sorry for all the holiday-makers, whose best enjoyment of these three days would have been in the clear air and sunshine.

Do not reproach me for not telling you of my marriage beforehand. It is difficult to speak of what surprises ourselves, and the decision was sudden, though not the friendship which led to the decision.

My heart thoroughly responds to your remembrance of our long—our thirty-years' relation to each other. Let me tell you this once what I have said to others—that I value you as one of the purest-minded, gentlest-hearted women I have ever known, and where such a feeling exists, friendship can live without much aid from sight.

We shall probably not be in town again till the beginning of November. Our address then will be 4 Cheyne Walk, Chelsea, where we shall have an outlook on the river and meadows beyond. Just now we have the prospect of going on family visits to married sisters, which prevents us from feeling quite settled.

Letter to Charles L. Lewes, 12th Aug. 1880.

I expected your letter, and expected, too, just the sort of letter I have received, telling me everything delightfully. I can follow you everywhere in your journeying except to Ober Wesel. I hope you will have enjoyed St. Blasien and some of the walks there consecrated by the beloved Pater's footsteps. We reversed your drive and went to Freiburg, so that I can enter into your enjoyment of the Höllenthal. I am glad that your weather has been temperate. Here we have now had four sunny and really hot days, and this morning promises to be the fifth. That is consolatory as to the harvest, and is very agreeable as to our private life. The last two evenings we have walked in the garden after eight o'clock—the first time by starlight, the second under a vapory sky, with the red moon setting. The air was perfectly still and warm, and I felt no need of extra clothing.

Our life has had no more important events than calls from neighbors and our calls in return. To-morrow we pay our visit to the Druces at Sevenoaks, where, you may remember, Mr. Druce has built a beautiful house. At the beginning of September we are to visit Mr. and Mrs. Otter at Ranby, and after that we shall go to Six-Mile Bottom for a day or two. Then our wanderings will be over.

I went to the Priory the other day, and found a treatise on Blood Pressure, by Dr. Roy, which he had sent me there, and which he has published as the "George Henry Lewes Student." I imagine that he has come to pursue his studies in England, as he intended to do. Delbeuf's article on the last volume of the "Problems" (in the Belgian Athenæum) is very nicely done. He has read the book.

I am pretty well, but find myself more languid than I was when abroad. I think the cause is perhaps the moisture of the climate. There is something languorous in this climate, or, rather, in its effects. J. gets a little better every day, and so each day is more enjoyable.

Letter to Mrs. Burne-Jones, 9th Sept. 1880.

We have just come home after paying family visits in Lincolnshire and Cambridgeshire, else I should have answered your letter earlier. The former one reached me in Venice, when I was in great trouble on account of Mr. Cross's illness. I had had reason to believe that my letters, ordered to be posted on the 5th of May, had not been delivered; so I asked Charles to inquire about the letter I wrote to you—not because it demanded an answer, but because I wished you to know that I had written.

I am so glad to know that you have been enjoying our brief English summer. The good harvest makes the country everywhere cheerful, and we have been in great, even districts where the fields, full of sheaves or studded with ricks, stretch wide as a prairie. Now, we hope not to leave this place again till November, when we intend to go to Chelsea for the winter and earliest spring.

I almost envy you the opportunity of seeing Wombwell's Menagerie. I suppose I got more delight out of that itinerant institution when I was nine or ten years old than I have ever got out of the Zoological Gardens. The smells and the sawdust mingled themselves with my rapture. Everything was good.

It was very dear of you to write to me before you finished your holiday. My love attends you all.

Letter to Madame Bodichon, 14th Sept. 1880.

Your letter this morning is a welcome assurance about you. We have been away in Lincolnshire and Cambridgeshire, paying visits to the Otters and the Halls. The weather, which is now broken, was glorious through all our wandering, which we made very interesting by pausing to see Ely, Peterborough, and Lincoln cathedrals. The Otters have a very pretty, happy household. He is a country gentleman now, acting as a magistrate, and glancing towards Parliament. But he keeps up his reading, and is delightful to talk to. Emily looks very pretty in her matronly position, with three little children. The Halls, too, are very pleasant to behold in their home life. He has done wonders in building nice cottages and schools, and sinking wells where they were wanted, and founding a co-operative store—and, in general, doing whatever opportunity allows towards slowly improving this confused world. We saw (at Six-Mile Bottom) Mr. and Mrs. Sidgwick. Perhaps you know that they have had, and have, the admirable public spirit to let their house and arrange to live for a year in the new Newnham House, in order to facilitate matters for the double institution.

We are very well. Mr. Cross gets stronger and brighter every day. We often mention you, because you are associated with so many of my memories.

Our only bugbear—it is a very little one—is the having to make preliminary arrangements towards settling ourselves in the new house (4 Cheyne Walk). It is a quaint house; and a Mr. Armitage of Manchester, of whom you may have heard, has been superintending the decoration and furnishing, but not to the exclusion of old things, which we must carry and stow, especially wallings of books. I am become so lazy that I shrink from all such practical work.

Letter to Charles L. Lewes, 23d Sept. 1880.

I have been and am suffering under an attack of a comparatively mild sort, but I expect to be well in two or three days, and am just going to drive to Godalming to meet my husband. Hence I write this hurriedly. We should like to see you and Gertrude from Saturday to Monday some week next month if it would be pleasant to you.

This attack was a recurrence of the renal disorder of the previous year. On the 29th September we went for ten days to Brighton as the most accessible place for a bracing change. The first effects of the sea breezes were encouraging, but the improvement was not maintained. Shortly after our return to Witley Dr. Andrew Clark,[47] "the beloved physician," came down to consult with Mr. Parsons of Godalming—on 22d October. From that time there was gradual but slow improvement, and, during November, a decided recovery of strength. But an English autumn was not favorable to the invalid. Her sensibility to climatic influences was extreme. It will have been noticed in the preceding letters how constantly change of air and scene was required. I had never seen my wife out of England, previous to our marriage, except the first time at Rome, when she was suffering. My general impression, therefore, had been that her health was always very low, and that she was almost constantly ailing. Moreover, I had been with her very frequently during her long, severe illness at Witley in 1879. I was the more surprised, after our marriage, to find that from the day she set her foot on Continental soil till the day she returned to Witley she was never ill—never even unwell. She began at once to look many years younger. During the eleven years of our acquaintance I had never seen her so strong in health. The greater dryness and lightness of the atmosphere seemed to have a magical effect. At Paris we spent our mornings at the Louvre or the Luxembourg, looking at pictures or sculpture, or seeing other sights—always fatiguing work. In the afternoons we took long walks in the Bois, and very often went to the theatre in the evening. Reading and writing filled in all the interstices of time; yet there was no consciousness of fatigue. And we had the same experience at all the places we stayed at in Italy. On our way home she was able to take a great deal of walking exercise at Wildbad and Baden. Decrease of physical strength coincided exactly with the time of our return to the damper climate of England. The specific form of illness did not declare itself until two months later, but her health was never again the same as it had been on the Continent. Towards the middle of October she was obliged to keep her bed, but without restriction as to amount of reading and talking, which she was always able to enjoy, except in moments of acute pain.

During her illness I read aloud, among other books, Comte's "Discours Préliminaire," translated by Dr. Bridges. This volume was one of her especial favorites, and she delighted in making me acquainted with it. For all Comte's writing she had a feeling of high admiration, intense interest, and very deep sympathy. I do not think I ever heard her speak of any writer with a more grateful sense of obligation for enlightenment. Her great debt to him was always thankfully acknowledged. But the appreciation was thoroughly selective, so far as I was able to judge. Parts of his teaching were accepted and other parts rejected. Her attitude towards him, as the founder of a new religion, may be gathered from the references and allusions in the foregoing correspondence, and from the fact that for many years, and up to the time of her death, she subscribed to the Comtist Fund, but never, so far as I am aware, more directly associated herself with the members of the Positivist Church. It was a limited adherence.

We generally began our reading at Witley with some chapters of the Bible, which was a very precious and sacred book to her, not only from early associations, but also from the profound conviction of its importance in the development of the religious life of man. She particularly enjoyed reading aloud some of the finest chapters of Isaiah, Jeremiah, and St. Paul's Epistles. With a naturally rich, deep voice, rendered completely flexible by constant practice; with the keenest perception of the requirements of emphasis, and with the most subtile modulations of tone, her reading threw a glamour over indifferent writing, and gave to the greatest writing fresh meanings and beauty. The Bible and our elder English poets best suited the organ-like tones of her voice, which required, for their full effect, a certain solemnity and majesty of rhythm. Her reading of Milton was especially fine; and I shall never forget four great lines of the "Samson Agonistes" to which it did perfect justice—

"But what more oft in nations grown corrupt,
And by their vices brought to servitude,
Than to love bondage more than liberty,
Bondage with ease than strenuous liberty."

The delighted conviction of justice in the thought—the sense of perfect accord between thought, language, and rhythm—stimulated the voice of the reader to find the exactly right tone. Such reading requires for its perfection a rare union of intellectual, moral, and physical qualities. It cannot be imitated. It is an art, like singing—a personal possession that dies with the possessor, and leaves nothing behind except a memory. Immediately before her illness we had read, together, the first part of "Faust." Reading the poem in the original with such an interpreter was the opening of a new world to me. Nothing in all literature moved her more than the pathetic situation and the whole character of Gretchen. It touched her more than anything in Shakespeare. During the time that we were reading the "Faust" we were also constantly reading, together, Shakespeare, Milton, and Wordsworth: some of Scott's novels and Lamb's essays too, in which she greatly delighted. For graver study we read through Professor Sayce's "Introduction to the Science of Language." Philology was a subject in which she was most deeply interested; and this was my first experience of what seemed to me a limitless persistency in application. I had noticed the persistency before, while looking at pictures, or while hearing her play difficult music; for it was characteristic of her nature that she took just as great pains to play her very best to a single unlearned listener as most performers would do to a room full of critical cognoscenti. Professor Sayce's book was the first which we had read together requiring very sustained attention ("The Divina Commedia" we had read in very short bits at a time), and it revealed to me more clearly the depth of George Eliot's mental concentration. Continuous thought did not fatigue her. She could keep her mind on the stretch hour after hour: the body might give way, but the brain remained unwearied.

Her memory held securely her great stores of reading. Even of light books her recollections were always crisp, definite, and vivid. On our way home from Venice, after my illness, we were reading French novels of Cherbuliez, Alphonse Daudet, Gustave Droz, George Sand. Most of these books she had read years before, and I was astonished to find what clear-cut, accurate impressions had been retained, not only of all the principal characters, but also of all the subsidiary personages—even their names were generally remembered. But, on the other hand, her verbal memory was not always to be depended on. She never could trust herself to write a quotation without verifying it.

In foreign languages George Eliot had an experience more unusual among women than among men. With a complete literary and scholarly knowledge of French, German, Italian, and Spanish, she spoke all four languages with difficulty, though accurately and grammatically; but the mimetic power of catching intonation and accent was wanting. Greek and Latin she could read with thorough delight to herself; and Hebrew was a favorite study to the end of her life. In her younger days, especially at Geneva, inspired by Professor de la Rive's lectures, she had been greatly interested in mathematical studies. At one time she applied herself heartily and with keen enjoyment to geometry, and she thought that she might have attained to some excellence in that branch if she had been able to pursue it. In later days the map of the heavens lay constantly on her table at Witley, and she longed for deeper astronomical knowledge. She had a passion for the stars; and one of the things to which we looked forward on returning to London was a possible visit to Greenwich Observatory, as she had never looked through a great telescope of the first class. Her knowledge of wild-flowers gave a fresh interest each day to our walks in the Surrey lanes, as every hedgerow is full of wonders—to "those who know;" but she would, I think, have disclaimed for herself real botanical knowledge, except of an elementary sort.

This wide and varied culture was accompanied with an unaffected distrust of her own knowledge, with the sense of how little she really knew, compared with what it was possible for her to have known, in the world. Her standard was always abnormally high—it was the standard of an expert; and she believed in the aphorism that to know any subject well we must know the details of it.

During our short married life our time was so much divided between travelling and illness that George Eliot wrote very little, so that I have but slight personal experience of how the creative effort affected her. But she told me that, in all that she considered her best writing, there was a "not herself," which took possession of her, and that she felt her own personality to be merely the instrument through which this spirit, as it were, was acting. Particularly she dwelt on this in regard to the scene in "Middlemarch" between Dorothea and Rosamond, saying that, although she always knew they had, sooner or later, to come together, she kept the idea resolutely out of her mind until Dorothea was in Rosamond's drawing-room. Then, abandoning herself to the inspiration of the moment, she wrote the whole scene exactly as it stands, without alteration or erasure, in an intense state of excitement and agitation, feeling herself entirely possessed by the feelings of the two women. Of all the characters she had attempted she found Rosamond's the most difficult to sustain. With this sense of "possession" it is easy to imagine what the cost to the author must have been of writing books, each of which has its tragedy. We have seen the suffering alluded to in the letters on the "Mill on the Floss," "Felix Holt," and "Romola."

For those who would know the length and the breadth of George Eliot's intellectual capacity she has written her books. Here I am only putting down some of my own personal impressions or recollections, which must be taken for what they are worth. In doing this I should like to dwell on the catholicity of her judgment. Singularly free from the spirit of detraction, either in respect of her contemporaries or her predecessors, she was always anxious to see the best and the most noble qualities of human beings or of books, in cases where she felt some general sympathy notwithstanding particular disagreements. And it was this wide sympathy, this understanding of so many points of view, that gained for her the passionate devotion not only of personal friends, but also of literary admirers, from the most widely sundered sections of society. Probably few people have ever received so many intimate confidences from confidants of such diverse habits of thought.

This many-sidedness, however, makes it exceedingly difficult to ascertain, either from her books or from the closest personal intimacy, what her exact relation was to any existing religious creed or to any political party. Yet George Eliot's was emphatically a religious mind. My own impression is that her whole soul was so imbued with, and her imagination was so fired by, the scientific spirit of the age—by the constant rapid development of ideas in the Western world—that she could not conceive that there was, as yet, any religious formula sufficient nor any known political system likely to be final. She had great hope for the future, in the improvement of human nature by the gradual development of the affections and the sympathetic emotions, and "by the slow, stupendous teaching of the world's events," rather than by means of legislative enactments. Party measures and party men afforded her no great interest. Representative government, by numerical majorities, did not appeal to her as the last word of political wisdom. Generally speaking, she had little patience with talk about practical politics, which seemed to her under our present system to be too often very unpractically handled by ignorant amateurs. The amateur was always a "stone of stumbling, and a rock of offence." Her wrath used often to be roused, in late years, by the increased bitterness in the language of parties, and by the growing habit of attributing, for political effect, the most shameful motives to distinguished statesmen.

She was keenly anxious to redress injustices to women, and to raise their general status in the community. This, she thought, could best be effected by women improving their work—ceasing to be amateurs. But it was one of the most distinctly marked traits in her character that she particularly disliked everything generally associated with the idea of a "masculine woman." She was, and as a woman she wished to be, above all things, feminine—"so delicate with her needle, and an admirable musician." She was proud, too, of being an excellent housekeeper—an excellence attained from knowing how things ought to be done, from her early training, and from an inborn habit of extreme orderliness. Nothing offended her more than the idea that because a woman had exceptional intellectual powers therefore it was right that she should absolve herself, or be absolved, from her ordinary household duties.

It will have been seen from the letters that George Eliot was deeply interested in the higher education of women, and that she was among the earliest contributors to Girton College. After meeting Mr. and Mrs. Henry Sidgwick, in September, 1880, when they had gone to reside at the new hall of Newnham College for a time, she was anxious to be associated in that work also, but she did not live to carry out the plan herself. The danger she was alive to in the system of collegiate education was the possible weakening of the bonds of family affection and family duties. In her view, the family life holds the roots of all that is best in our mortal lot; and she always felt that it is far too ruthlessly sacrificed in the case of English men by their public school and university education, and that much more is such a result to be deprecated in the case of women. But, the absolute good being unattainable in our mixed condition of things, those women especially who are obliged to earn their own living must do their best with the opportunities at their command, as "they cannot live with posterity," when a more perfect system may prevail. Therefore, George Eliot wished God-speed to the women's colleges. It was often in her mind and on her lips that the only worthy end of all learning, of all science, of all life, in fact, is, that human beings should love one another better. Culture merely for culture's sake can never be anything but a sapless root, capable of producing at best a shrivelled branch.

In her general attitude towards life George Eliot was neither optimist nor pessimist. She held to the middle term, which she invented for herself, of "meliorist." She was cheered by the hope and by the belief in gradual improvement of the mass; for in her view each individual must find the better part of happiness in helping another. She often thought it wisest not to raise too ambitious an ideal, especially for young people, but to impress on ordinary natures the immense possibilities of making a small home circle brighter and better. Few are born to do the great work of the world, but all are born to this. And to the natures capable of the larger effort the field of usefulness will constantly widen.

In her personal bearing George Eliot was seldom moved by the hurry which mars all dignity in action. Her commanding brows and deep, penetrating eyes were seconded by the sweet, restrained, impressive speech, which claimed something like an awed attention from strangers. But to those very near to her there was another side of her nature, scarcely suspected by outside friends and acquaintances. No one could be more capable of enjoying and of communicating genuine, loving, hearty, uncontrollable laughter. It was a deep-seated wish, expressed in the poem of "Agatha"—"I would have young things merry." And I remember, many years ago, at the time of our first acquaintance, how deeply it pained her when, in reply to a direct question, I was obliged to admit that, with all my admiration for her books, I found them, on the whole, profoundly sad. But sadness was certainly not the note of her intimate converse. For she had the distinctively feminine qualities which lend a rhythm to the movement of life. The quick sympathy that understands without words; the capacity for creating a complete atmosphere of loving interest; the detachment from outside influences; the delight in everything worthy—even the smallest thing—for its own sake; the readiness to receive as well as to give impressions; the disciplined mental habit which can hold in check and conquer the natural egoism of a massive, powerful personality; the versatility of mind; the varied accomplishments—these are characteristics to be found more highly developed among gifted women than among gifted men. Add to these the crowning gift of genius, and, in such companionship, we may possess the world without belonging to it.

The November days had come now—cold and clear. My wife was able again to enjoy the daily drives and walks on which she was very dependent for health. The letters continue.

Letter to Mrs. Congreve, 3d Nov. 1880.

Since I wrote to you I have been much more ill, and have only, during the last few days, begun to feel myself recovering strength. But I have been cared for with something much better than angelic tenderness. The fine, clear air, if it lasts, will induce us to linger in the country; and, indeed, I am not yet quite fit to move; for, though I appear to be quite cured of my main ailment, half my bodily self has vanished. We are having deliciously clear days here, and I get out for short drives and walks. I really have nothing to complain of now except a little lack of strength. I play on the piano again, and walk with perfect ease. There is a long chapter about myself!

Letter to Madame Bodichon, 7th Nov. 1880.

Three weeks ago I had a rather troublesome attack, but I am getting well now, though still reduced and comparatively weak. We shall probably linger here till near the end of the month, for the autumnal landscape is very beautiful, and I am not yet quite fit for the exertion of moving. It is a comfort to think that you can be very snug through the winter in your nice house. What a pity we are not within an easy driving distance from you!

Mr. Hall is here to-day. He gave a lecture on Leclaire, the house-painter in Paris who initiated an excellent plan of co-operative sharing for his workmen. It has been printed, and when I have another copy I will send it you. Leclaire is mentioned by John S. Mill in the notes to his "Political Economy," but had not been otherwise taken much notice of. Still, you may know all about him.

Letter to Mrs. Burne-Jones, 18th Nov. 1880.

Thanks for your loving remembrance of me. We have been kept in the country by two sufficient causes: I have been ill, and the house at Cheyne Walk has not been ready to receive us. I suppose we shall not be there till the end of the month instead of the beginning. One of the good things I look forward to is the sight of your dear face again. You will see little more than half of me, for nearly half has been consumed. But I have been nursed with supreme tenderness, and am daily gaining some strength. Much love to both.

Letter to Charles L. Lewes, 23d Nov. 1880.

We are lingering here for three reasons: the beauty of the weather, the unreadiness of the house, and my unfitness to bear the hurry of moving. I am getting better, but have not yet been able to bear much exertion.

Thanks for your pretty letter. I do not think I shall have many returns of Novembers, but there is every prospect that such as remain to me will be as happy as they can be made by the devoted tenderness which watches over me. Your years will probably be many, and it is cheering to me to think that you have many springs of happiness in your lot that are likely to grow fuller with advancing time.

Letter to Mrs. Bray, 28th Nov. 1880.

I have thought of you all the more because I have not even heard anything of you for several months. You will wonder less why I have not written, as a consequence of those thoughts, when I tell you that I have been ill, and not allowed to do anything but indulge myself and receive indulgence. I am very well now, and am every day consciously gathering strength, so that, if I could like giving trouble, I should look back on my illness as a great opportunity of enjoying the tenderest watching and nursing. I kept my bed only about a week, and have always been equal, except at short intervals, to much reading and talking, so that there is no fair cause for any grumbling on my part. It has not been so bad an illness as that of last summer. You see we are not yet at Cheyne Walk, but we are to be settled there by the end of next week. I have had no trouble, but have remained here on my cushions while Mr. Cross has gone early for several mornings running to superintend the removal. It is difficult to give you materials for imagining my "world." Think of me as surrounded and cherished by family love; by brothers and sisters whose characters are admirable to me, and who have for years been my friends. But there is no excessive visiting among us, and the life of my own hearth is chiefly that of dual companionship. If it is any good for me that my life has been prolonged till now, I believe it is owing to this miraculous affection which has chosen to watch over me.

Journal, 1880.

Dec. 3.—Came to 4 Cheyne Walk.

Dec. 4.—Went to Popular Concert at St. James's Hall. Heard Madame Neruda, Piatti, and Miss Zimmermann.

Letter to Mrs. Congreve, 6th Dec. 1880.

Only on Friday evening did we get into this new house, and I had deferred writing to you till I could say "Come and see me." I can say so now, but on reflection I have come to the conclusion that you would like yourself to fix a time beforehand, the journey here being rather long. Perhaps you will like to choose a day on which you could go to Emily also, her house being less formidably distant—across the park and down Sloane Street would be an easy way to us. This week we shall be much engaged in household matters, such as the reduction to order of the chaos which still reigns in certain places least obvious to visitors, and the procuring of small objects, either necessary or desirable. But after this week I shall be most glad if you and Dr. Congreve will come to see us just as and when you would find the least inconvenience in doing so—either at lunch-time (half-past one) or at a later hour.

I find myself in a new climate here—the London air and this particular house being so warm compared with Witley. I hope that you too find the air mild, for I know that suits you best.

Dr. and Mrs. Congreve paid their promised visit the week after this letter was written; and Madame Belloc lunched with us the following day. Order was beginning to reign in the new house. The books had all been arranged as nearly as possible in the same order that they had occupied at the Priory, Mr. Radermacher of the Pantechnicon having given his personal attention to this arrangement of some thousands of volumes, for which George Eliot was particularly grateful. Notwithstanding all this care, however, there were many unforeseen details of furnishing still to be completed, which caused a considerable expenditure of time. We continued reading aloud Max Müller's "Lectures on the Science of Language," and Duffield's translation of "Don Quixote;" we were also reading "Hermann and Dorothea," Tennyson's last volume of poems, just published, and Mr. Frederic Myers's volume on Wordsworth. In the evenings we had always a little feast of music, and were becoming in every way reconciled to town life, notwithstanding the loss of country quiet, light, and beauty. On the afternoon of Friday, the 17th December, we went to see the "Agamemnon" performed in Greek by Oxford undergraduates. The representation was a great enjoyment—an exciting stimulus—and my wife proposed that during the winter we should read together some of the great Greek dramas. The following afternoon we went to the Saturday Popular Concert at St. James's Hall. It was a cold day. The air in the hall was overheated, and George Eliot allowed a fur cloak which she wore to slip from her shoulders. I was conscious of a draught, and was afraid of it for her, as she was very sensitive to cold. I begged her to resume the cloak, but, smiling, she whispered that the room was really too hot. In the evening she played through several of the pieces that we had heard at the concert, with all her accustomed enjoyment of the piano, and with a touch as true and as delicate as ever. On Sunday there was very slight trouble in the throat, but not sufficient to prevent her from coming down-stairs to breakfast as usual. In the afternoon she was well enough to receive visits from Mr. Herbert Spencer and one or two other friends. Afterwards she began the following letter to Mrs. Strachey. It was left unfinished in her writing-case, and is printed as it stands.

Letter to Mrs. Strachey, 19th Dec. 1880.

I have been thinking so much of Lady Colvile, and yet I shrank from troubling even your more indirect sympathetic sorrow with a letter. I am wondering how far her health is in a state to endure this loss—a loss which extends even to me, who only occasionally saw, but was always cheered by, the expression of a wise and sweet nature, which clearly shone in Sir James Colvile's manner and conversation. One great comfort I believe she has—that of a sister's affection.

Here the letter is broken off. The pen which had delighted and comforted so many minds and hearts here made its last mark. The spring, which had broadened out into so wide a river of speech, ceased to flow.

Little more remains to be told. On Monday the doctor treated the case as one of laryngeal sore throat; and when Dr. Andrew Clark came for consultation on Wednesday evening the pericardium was found to be seriously affected. While the doctors were at her bedside she had just time to whisper to me, "Tell them I have great pain in the left side," before she became unconscious. Her long illness in the autumn had left her no power to rally. She passed away, about ten o'clock at night, on the 22d December, 1880.

She died, as she would herself have chosen to die, without protracted pain, and with every faculty brightly vigorous.

Her body rests in Highgate Cemetery, in the grave next to Mr. Lewes. In sleet and snow, on a bitter day—the 29th December—very many whom she knew, very many whom she did not know, pressed to her grave-side with tributes of tears and flowers.

Her spirit joined that choir invisible "whose music is the gladness of the world."

---

INDEX.

• "Abode of Snow," by Andrew Wilson, iii. [190].
• A breezy common, iii. [108].
• "Adam Bede," progress of, i. [338];
  • second volume finished in Dresden, ii. [42];
  • £800 offered for copyright for four years, [47];
  • its history, [48-52];
  • author's love of, [51];
  • subscription to, [59];
  • cheap edition suggested by working man, [66];
  • sale increasing, [67], [68];
  • quoted in House of Commons, [69];
  • French translation proposed, [73];
  • additional £400 from publishers, [80];
  • fourth edition (5000) sold in a fortnight, [88];
  • sixth edition, [96];
  • seventh edition (2000), [101];
  • Blackwoods propose to pay £800 above agreed price, [101];
  • 16,000 copies sold in one year, [105];
  • copyright conceded, [111];
  • third volume written in six weeks, [113].
• "Adam Bede, Junior," a sequel, advertised, ii. [104].
• "Address to the Working Men," by Felix Holt, iii. [18].
• Adler, Dr. Hermann, appreciation of Jewish character in "Deronda," iii. [207];
  • lecture on "Deronda" by, [215].
• Æsthetic teaching the highest of all teaching, ii. [318].
• Æsthetic, the, not a doctrinal teacher, iii. [237].
• Afghanistan, effect of the sad news from, iii. [278].
• "Agatha" sold to Fields & Osgood for Atlantic Monthly, iii. [63].
• Aix to Vevey, journey to, iii. [205].
• Allbut, Dr. Clifford, Leeds, iii. [41], [42].
• Allingham, William, letter to, on Midland dialect, iii. [218];
  • on his poems, [226].
• Altruism, the need of, iii. [178], [179].
• Amalfi, grand drive, ii. [153].
• America, interest in, i. [219];
  • the war in, anxiety regarding, ii. [242];
  • delight in descriptions of, iii. [115];
  • invited to visit, [118].
• Amsterdam, Jewish synagogues in, ii. [317].
• "An Inquiry concerning the Origin of Christianity," by Charles Hennell, influence of, on George Eliot, i. [68];
  • read again with admiration, [119].
• Anders, Mr., apologizes for the Liggins business, ii. [78].
• Antwerp, pictures at, i. [239], [240].
• Apennines, across the, ii. [168].
• Application, persistence in, iii. [304].
• Appreciation of Dickens's letter, ii. [6].
• Ardennes, journey to the, iii. [176].
• "Aristotle," by G. H. Lewes, ii. [271].
• "Armgart," a dramatic poem, iii. [85].
• Art, the function of, iii. [144];
  • purpose in, [144].
• Articles written by Mr. Lewes, iii. [260], [261];
  • by military men, [265].
• Ashantee War, the, iii. [157].
• Asher's cheap editions of "George Eliot," iii. [124].
• Atkinson, Mr., i. [193].
• Australia, proposed visit to, i. [221].
• Authors and booksellers, meeting of, i. [201].
• Authorship acknowledged to the Brays and Miss Hennell, ii. [83].
• Autobiography, repugnance to, iii. [221].
• Autumn, love for, i. [67]; ii. [263], [264].
• "A Word for the Germans," ii. [288].
• Aytoun, Professor, admiration of "Gilfil's Love-Story," i. [326];
  • on "Adam Bede," ii. [81].

• Bâle, a morning in, ii. [87].
• Ballot, dislike of the, iii. [49];
  • the first experiment of the, [161].
• Balzac, a saying of, iii, [41].
• Bancroft, American Minister, Berlin, on "Middlemarch," iii. [157].
• Bank of England visited, iii. [176].
• "Beata," by T. A. Trollope, ii. [239].
• Bedworth, country about, i. [5-7].
• Beesley, Professor Edmund Spencer, iii. [64].
• Bellagio and the Splügen Pass, ii. [181].
• Benisch, Dr., editor of Jewish Chronicle, iii. [216].
• Berlin, popularity of "Middlemarch" in, iii. [157].
• Berlin, visit to the Charité, iii. [77];
  • society and music at, [77];
  • increase in luxury in, [78].
• Berlin recollections: meets Varnhagen, i. [251], [252];
  • impressions of the city, [251];
  • new acquaintances, [253];
  • portrait of Kleist, [253];
  • Fräulein Solmar's salon, [253];
  • General Pfuhl, [254];
  • Baron Sternberg, [254];
  • "Lisez les Chroniques," [254];
  • Professor Gruppe, [255], [263];
  • Waagen on Goethe, [256];
  • Edward Magnus, [257];
  • celebrities, [258];
  • Professor Stahr, [258], [263];
  • Schiller's portrait, [258];
  • Rauch the sculptor, [258];
  • his atelier, [259], [260];
  • Dessoir the actor, [260];
  • "Nathan der Weise," [261];
  • Johanna Wagner, [261];
  • Gluck's "Orpheus," [261];
  • Roger and Arabella Goddard, [264];
  • Vivier anecdotes, [264], [265];
  • works of art, [265];
  • evenings in, [266];
  • table d'hôte, reading between the courses, [266];
  • work at and books read, [268];
  • translating Spinoza's "Ethics," [268];
  • remarks on books read, [270];
  • return to England, [271].
• Bethnal Green, pictures at, iii. [128].
• Biarritz, its natural beauties, iii. [2];
  • the Chambre de l'Amour, [2];
  • journey to Barcelona from, [4].
• Bible and the Liturgy of the English Church, ii. [226].
• Bible reading, iii. [302].
• Bickley, country-house at, iii. [152].
• Birthday greetings, iii. [47].
• Bishop Steignton, visit to, i. [185].
• Blackie, Professor, Edinburgh, letter of sympathy from, ii. [111], [113].
• Blackwood's Magazine on "Adam Bede," ii. [70].
• Blackwood, John, his favorable opinion of "Amos Barton," i. [302];
  • accepts it for "Maga," [304];
  • receives kind letter from author, [307];
  • cautions regarding "huddling up stories," [319];
  • not enthusiastic about "Janet's Repentance," [326];
  • calls on Lewes, and George Eliot reveals herself, ii. [10];
  • letter from George Eliot on artistic combination, [31];
  • offers £800 for copyright of "Adam Bede" for four years, [47];
  • letter to, regarding Liggins, [73];
  • his liberal treatment of George Eliot, [102];
  • proposals for "Mill on the Floss," [110];
  • concedes copyright of "Adam Bede," [111];
  • suggests title of "Mill on the Floss," [112];
  • letter from author on finishing "Mill on the Floss," [114];
  • letter to, from George Eliot at Berne, [182], [183];
  • do. from Florence, [218];
  • offers £5000 for "Felix Holt," [308];
  • letters to, about "Spanish Gypsy," iii. [16], [26];
  • about Scott Commemoration, [97];
  • "Middlemarch," [103];
  • his favorable impressions of "Middlemarch," [106];
  • letter to, from Homburg, [123];
  • New Year's greetings from George Eliot, [138];
  • letter on "Middlemarch," [153];
  • on another book simmering in her head, [157];
  • on corrected edition of "Spanish Gypsy," [161], [162];
  • letter to, with volume of poems, [164];
  • on printing of "Deronda," [190], [191], [197];
  • on re-reading "Romola," [217], [218];
  • offers for second ten-years' copyright, [230];
  • letter to, declining invitation to Strathtyrum, [237];
  • on her continued ill-health, [244];
  • his death, [276].
• Blackwood, Major, his opinion of "Amos Barton," i. [306];
  • hopeful about the "Scenes," [342];
  • calls on Lewes, and suspects identity of George Eliot, [342];
  • letter regarding the Liggins affair, ii. [81];
  • letter from author on "Mill on the Floss," [167].
• Blackwood, William, his favorable news of "Clerical Life," ii. [116];
  • letter to, on Mr. Lewes's illness, iii. [239];
  • on "Theophrastus Such," [254], [263], [271].
• Blanc, Louis, anecdote of, i. [195].
• Bodichon, Madame, discovers author of "Adam Bede," ii. [77];
  • letters to: on artistic combinations, [93];
  • on Mrs. Gaskell's letter, [107];
  • the rewards of the artist, [107];
  • on settling in London, [198];
  • on religious forms and ceremonies, [205];
  • on the necessity of sympathy, [268];
  • on her Spanish tour, iii. [4];
  • on cheerfulness, [172];
  • on "Deronda," [198];
  • on woman's work, [208];
  • on her illness, [225];
  • on improvement in health, [252];
  • letter regarding "Lewes Studentship," [267];
  • letter announcing her marriage, [283];
  • on sympathy with marriage, [289].
• Bohn, Madame, visit from, ii. [293].
• Bologna, its pictures and churches, ii. [169];
  • the leaning towers, [170].
• Bonham-Carter, Miss, letter to, from Madame Bodichon, iii. [264].
• Bonheur, Rosa, her pictures, i. [333].
• Books belong to successive mental phases, ii. [211].
• Books read at Malvern, 1861, ii. [228-230], [234-236].
• Books read, with remarks on, i. [268-271], [322], [341], [344]; ii. [58], [299]; iii. [25], [41], [68], [71], [72].
• Booksellers and authors, meeting of, i. [201].
• Bookstalls, literary taste at, iii. [51].
• Brabant, Miss, i. [85].
• Bracebridge, Mr., and Liggins, ii. [99].
• Bray, Charles, his work, "The Philosophy of Necessity," i. [67];
  • influence of his opinions, [68];
  • words of affection in time of depression, [135];
  • letter to, on rumors of authorship, ii. [13].
• Bray, Mrs., letters to: on favorite books, i. [86];
  • reading and music, [87];
  • poetry of Christianity, [93];
  • chameleon-like nature, [158];
  • orthodox friends, [162];
  • anxiety for letters, [164];
  • need of encouragement, [165];
  • life in Geneva, [169], [170];
  • Christmas wishes, [174];
  • severe winter, [175];
  • yearning for friends at home, [175];
  • a singular advertisement, [195];
  • Westminster reviewers, [199];
  • love for music, [202];
  • feels well and "plucky," [207];
  • in Edinburgh again, [211];
  • pleasant travelling, [213];
  • a Saturday's work, [214];
  • work in the Strand, [215];
  • domestic grievances, [229];
  • view of union with Mr. Lewes, [235];
  • on careless cooking, [316];
  • on the charms of Richmond Park, [326];
  • unbelief in others' love, [337];
  • authorship acknowledged to, ii. [83];
  • recollections of journey of 1849, [191];
  • asking for music, [241];
  • on her "Physiology for Schools," [267];
  • on writing poetry instead of novels, iii. [31];
  • on happiness in recovery, [313].
• Bremer, Frederica, i. [188], [190].
• Brewing interest in Parliament, the, iii. [188], [189].
• Brewster, Sir David, i. [190].
• Bridges, Dr., Leeds, iii. [42].
• Bright on Ireland, iii. [56].
• Brittany, trip to, ii. [296].
• Broadstairs, delight with, i. [205].
• Brodie, Sir Benjamin, iii. [80].
• Brontë, Charlotte, life of, i. [317].
• Brooks, Shirley, delighted with "Adam Bede," ii. [70].
• "Brother Jacob" written, ii. [199].
• "Brother and Sister," sonnets, iii. [70].
• Brougham, Lord, a delicious non sequitur, i. [214].
• Brown, Dr. John, sends "Rab and his Friends" to author of "Adam Bede," ii. [60];
  • kindly letter in reply, [60].
• Brown, J. C., "Ethics of George Eliot's Works," iii. [266].
• Browne, Dr., chemist, Edinburgh, i. [195].
• Browning, first visit from, ii. [249];
  • "Elisha," iii. [56].
• Browning, Mrs., her "Casa Guidi Windows", ii. [243].
• Buchanan, Robert, his "David Grey," ii. [273].
• Buckle, personal dislike to, ii. [47].
• Buckle's "History of Civilization," i. [341], [345].
• Buckle's ideal not George Eliot's, ii. [220].
• Bulstrode, new view of, iii. [133].
• Bunyan, reading again with pleasure, ii. [105].
• Burne-Jones, Edward, letter to, on the function of art, iii. [144].
• Burne-Jones, Mrs., iii. [29];
  • letter to, on the serious view of life, [172];
  • on her illness, [185];
  • on Christmas plans, [232];
  • on her sense of depression, [239].
• Burton, Mr., wishes to take portrait, ii. [273];
  • his picture of a knight in armor, [277].
• Burton, Sir Frederick, Director of the National Gallery, ii. [240].
• Byron, a vulgar-minded genius, iii. [72].

• Call, Mr., author of "Reverberations and other Poems," i. [335].
• Calvinism, a libel on, iii. [88].
• Camaldoli, expedition to, ii. [221].
• Cambridge, a visit to, iii. [147];
  • a group of "Trinity" men, [147].
• Cambridgeshire, visit to, iii. [299].
• Caricature, a bastard kind of satire, iii. [228].
• Caritas, the highest love, ii. [252].
• Carlyle, Mrs., pleasant letter from, ii. [7];
  • her conception of George Eliot, [8].
• Carlyle, on the Glasgow artisan, i. [55];
  • eulogium on Emerson, [140];
  • "Life of Sterling," [189];
  • anecdotes of, [190], [257];
  • his denunciation of the opera, [192];
  • letter to George Eliot on "Frederic," [343];
  • G. A. anxious he should read her novels, ii. [63].
• "Carlyle's Memoirs," ii. [208].
• Catholicity of judgment, iii. [307].
• Cavour, Count, ii. [122], [143].
• Cerebellum, function of the, i. [210].
• Chapman, Mrs., on Harriet Martineau, iii. [220].
• Charade party, failure of, ii. [287].
• Charity of the Apostle Paul, the, ii. [251].
• Chart of Ecclesiastical History, i. [45].
• Cheap books, opinion of, iii. [154].
• Cheap edition of "Adam Bede" suggested by working man, ii. [66].
• Cheap editions of novels, arrangements for, iii. [10].
• Cheap music in England, ii. [81].
• Cheerful, now uniformly, iii. [172].
• Chiem See, journey by, ii. [34].
• Childhood's real feelings, i. [91].
• Child's idea of God, a, i. [153], [154].
• Chills, spiritual and physical, iii. [120].
• Chioggia, journey to, ii. [177].
• "Christianity and Infidelity," Baillie Prize Essay, i. [311].
• Chronological order in writing, ii. [211].
• Church-going resumed, i. [82].
• Clark, Sir James, pleasant evening with, i. [222];
  • meeting with, [226], [230].
• Clark, W. G., late public orator at Cambridge, ii. [240];
  • visit to, at Cambridge, iii. [24];
  • resigns his oratorship, [74].
• "Clerical Tutor," discouraged to proceed with, i. [336].
• Club criticism of "Amos Barton," i. [308].
• Coaching days, i. [7].
• Cobbe, Miss, her introduction to Theodore Parker, ii. [253].
• Cobden, disappointed with, i. [196].
• Cologne, journey to, i. [267].
• Colossians, Epistle to the, i. [51].
• Combe, George, friendship with, i. [186];
  • on the Westminster, [204];
  • visit to, in Edinburgh, [211].
• Comprehensive Church, one, iii. [175].
• Comte and his critics, ii. [224];
  • admiration of, [224];
  • delight in his "Politique," iii. [2].
• Comte's "Discours Préliminaire," ii. [264].
• Comte's works, reading, iii. [302].
• Conceptions of new work, iii. [233].
• Confidence, desire for, i. [128].
• Conformity, letter to J. W. Cross on, iii. [155].
• Congreve, Mrs., letters to, ii. [82], [84], [141];
  • visits George Eliot in London, [232];
  • letter to, on Thornton Lewes's illness, iii. [63];
  • leaves for India, [132];
  • returns to Europe, [145];
  • letter to, after marriage with Mr. Cross, [292];
  • invited to Cheyne Walk, [314].
• Congreve, Richard, ii. [62], [67], [73];
  • friendship of Mr. and Mrs., [76], [80];
  • Christmas Day with, [110];
  • his lectures on Positivism, iii. [12];
  • his article Huxley on Comte, [58].
• Conolly, Dr., i. [233].
• Conscience in work, iii. [27].
• Conservative reaction, on the, iii. [143].
• Contemporary fiction, iii. [183].
• Continent, start for, visiting Fontainebleau, Plombières, iii. [149];
  • three months' trip to the, [205].
• Continental tour, six weeks' journey to Baden, etc., iii. [37];
  • St. Märgen, [37];
  • peasant proprietors in the Black Forest, [38].
• Continental trip with the Brays, i. [150].
• Coquelin's acting, iii. [263].
• Correggio's Madonnas, ii. [43].
• Correspondence, views on, i. [134].
• Country, delight in the, iii. [154].
• Country districts, remoteness of, i. [5].
• Country-house, visions of a, ii. [61].
• Country life, monotony of, i. [25];
  • enjoyment of, ii. [275].
• Country quiet, the benefits of, iii. [110].
• Critical attitude, the, iii. [79].
• Criticism, sensibility to, ii. [63].
• Critics, indifference to opinions of, iii. [224].
• Cross, J. W., first meeting at Rome with George Eliot, iii. [59];
  • meet again at Weybridge, [71];
  • letter to, on buying a house, [131];
  • on conformity, [155];
  • on depression, [187];
  • on effect of her writing, [204];
  • on Tennyson, [229];
  • letters to, after Lewes's death, [250-252];
  • his engagement, [279];
  • his marriage, [282];
  • illness in Venice, [294].
• Cross, Miss Eleanor, letter to, iii. [276];
  • on her engagement to Mr. Cross, [279];
  • on her marriage tour, [283].
• Cross, Miss Elizabeth D., "An Old Story and other Poems," iii. [15].
• Cross, Miss Florence, letter to from Milan on the enjoyment of travel, iii. [286].
• Cross, Miss Mary, her "Marie of Villefranche," iii. [100];
  • letter to, on gift of a vase, [166].
• Cross, Mrs., letters to, accepting invitation to Six-Mile Bottom, iii. [121];
  • letter to, from Homburg, [122];
  • on return home, [125];
  • on journey abroad, and country-house at Bickley, [152];
  • on the pleasures of the country, [154];
  • on Christmas invitation, [158];
  • on silence of the country, [167].
• Crown Prince and Princess of Prussia, dinner with, iii. [236];
  • their simple manner, [236];
  • guests at table, [236].
• Cruikshank, George, i. [202].
• Cumming, article on, in the Westminster, i. [277].

• D'Albert, M. and Mme. See Durade.
• Dallas, Mr., an admirer of "Adam Bede," ii. [64].
• Daniel, the prophecies of, i. [122].
• "Daniel Deronda," writing, iii. [180];
  • fear for MS. being burned, [190];
  • anticipations of, [193], [194];
  • public interest in, [199], [214];
  • finished, [204];
  • Jewish element in, [211].
• Darwin's "Origin of Species," ii. [104], [105], [108].
• Dawson, Mr. George, lecturer, i. [129]; ii. [233]; iii. [165].
• Dean Ramsay, letter from, with his "Reminiscences of Scottish Life," ii. [320].
• Death, imagining the nearness of, iii. [170].
• "Debasing the Moral Currency," iii. [266].
  • in old friends, [245].
• Delight in the country, iii. [154];
• Depression from damp, iii. [187].
• Derbyshire, memories of, iii. [47].
• Deutsch, his article on the Talmud, iii. [18].
• "Deutscher Novellenschatz," iii. [96].
• "Development of Industries," effect of, ii. [281].
• Development of religion, iii. [62].
• Dialect in "Adam Bede," ii. [72]; iii. [219].
  • letter from, ii. [2];
  • recognizes woman's hand in "Clerical Life," [3];
  • dines at Wandsworth, [102];
  • asks for a story for "All the Year Round," [104];
  • his death, iii. [82];
  • his "Life" by Forster, [104].
• Dickens, Charles, meeting with, i. [201];
• Dinah Morris, the character of, ii. [49].
• Dinner at Greenwich, with Blackwood, Colonel Stewart, Colonel Hamley, and Mr. Skene, ii. [222].
• Discontent of the young, iii. [213].
• Discouraged with her writings, ii. [86].
  • his theory of races, [124];
  • funeral oration on the Duke of Wellington, [215].
• D'Israeli's "Tancred," i. [118], [123];
• Distrust of her own knowledge, iii. [305].
• "Divina Commedia," reading the, with Mr. Cross, iii. [259].
• Dorking, fourth visit to, ii. [254].
• Doyle, Mr., iii. [74].
• Drama, trying a, ii. [280].
• Drawbacks to living abroad, iii. [203].
• Drawings from "Romola," iii. [166].
  • Holbein's "Madonna," [42];
  • the "Sistine Madonna," [43];
  • the Correggios, [43];
  • Murillo's "St. Rodriguez," [43];
  • Dutch and Flemish pictures, [44];
  • Veronese, [44];
  • the theatres and concerts, [45].
• Dresden: end of vol. ii. of "Adam Bede" written, ii. [42];
• Druce, Mr., visit to, at Sevenoaks, iii. [297].
• Dulwich Picture-gallery, ii. [79].
  • residence with, [165];
  • their household, [166];
  • affection to, [173];
  • paints her portrait, [178];
  • visits England, [181];
  • wished to translate the "Scenes," ii. [109];
  • two days with, [186];
  • translates the "Scenes," [187].
• Durade, M. d'Albert, i. [164];
• Dürer, Albert, his paintings, ii. [24].
• Dutch translation of George Eliot's novels, iii. [139].
• Dutch and Flemish pictures in Dresden, ii. [44].
• Dwelling on faults, abstention from, iii. [89].
• Dying in harness, on, iii. [141].
• Dyspeptic troubles and their cure, ii. [288].

• Early death, thoughts on, ii. [290].
• Edinburgh criticisms more favorable than London, ii. [64].
• Edinburgh, enjoyment of, i. [211];
  • visit to Craigcrook, [212].
• Editor's life, i. [215], [221].
• Education of Women, iii. [27];
  • the higher, [146].
• Effect of talking of her own books, ii. [85].
• Effect of writing, the, iii. [306].
• Egotism, cure for, i. [128].
• "Elijah," delight in hearing, i. [112], [118].
• Ellis, Mr. and Mrs., i. [191].
• Emerson, first meeting with, i. [139];
  • Carlyle's eulogium on, [140];
  • his "Man the Reformer," ii. [196].
• Empire in France, the, iii. [168].
• Englefield Green, delightful week at, ii. [244].
• English, attitude of the, towards Orientals, iii. [212];
  • ignorance of the Jews, [212].
• English domestic life versus German, i. [271].
• English and French working classes, difference between, i. [131].
• "Englishwoman's Journal" on the Infant Seamstresses, ii. [97].
• Enjoying the thought of work, ii. [219].
• Enriched with new ideas after journey to Italy, ii. [182].
• "Ethics of George Eliot's Works," by J. C. Brown, iii. [266].
• Evans, Christiana (sister), married to Mr. Edward Clark, surgeon, i. [22];
  • relations between the sisters, [22], [23];
  • her husband's death, [216];
  • plans for her family, [217];
  • letter to her brother Isaac regarding, [318];
  • visit to her sister, ii. [96].
• Evans, Isaac (brother), recollections of his sister, i. [11];
  • her susceptibility to terror, [12];
  • their happy childhood, [12];
  • his marriage, [61];
  • renewed correspondence with his sister on her marriage with Mr. Cross, iii. [287];
  • notice of his family, [287].
• Evans, J. C., offers £1000 for a story for American periodical, ii. [94].
• Evans, Mrs. Samuel (aunt), the Dinah Morris of "Adam Bede," i. [33].
• Evans, Robert (father), his career, i. [1], [2];
  • removed to Griff, [2];
  • influence of his ideas on his daughter, [4];
  • his position, [8];
  • his wife, partly represented in Mrs. Poyser, [10];
  • her death, [22];
  • removal to Foleshill Road, Coventry, [61];
  • strong disapproval of his daughter's religious views, [75];
  • she visits her brother at Griff, [79];
  • regrets her impetuosity, and returns to Foleshill, [81];
  • his illness, [100];
  • visits Dover with his daughter, [107];
  • trip to Isle of Wight, [120];
  • illness increases, and visits St. Leonards, [135];
  • returns to Coventry, [139];
  • his death, [148].
• Evidence, the value of, iii. [109].
• Evil-speaking, contrition for, i. [141].

• "Fables," by Lord Lytton, iii. [162].
• Fairness and pity, where necessary, iii. [228].
• Fame in dreams, ii. [89].
• Family reunion, iii. [268]; joys, iii. [286].
• Faraday, letter from, acknowledging presentation copy of "Clerical Life," ii. [9].
• Farming, an epoch in, iii. [271].
• Faucit, Helen, admiration of, i. [222].
• Faults, abstention from dwelling on, iii. [89].
• "Faust," reading in the original, iii. [303].
• Faux, David, Confectioner (Brother Jacob), written, ii. [199].
• Fawcett, Henry, articles on Strikes by, ii. [194].
• "Fawn of Sertorius," i. [108].
• Fechter in "Hamlet," ii. [225];
  • his "Othello," [232].
• Feeling old for her years, ii. [193].
• "Felix Holt," writing commenced, ii. [290];
  • reading for, [292];
  • Blackwood offers £5000 for, [308];
  • pains taken with, [309];
  • finished in excitement, [311];
  • final instalment received from Blackwood, iii. [13];
  • payment for copyright, [13].
• Feminine characteristics, iii. [310], [311].
• Ferrier, Mr., translates Kaufmann's article on "Deronda," iii. [216].
• Feuerbach, translation of, published; first and only time her real name appeared in print, i. [233].
• Fiction, contemporary, iii. [183].
• Fiction-reading condemned, i. [36].
• Fiction-writing, first mention of, i. [296];
  • how I came to write, [298-300].
• First authorship, i. [42].
• First novel, i. [298];
  • title of, [299].
• Flemish and Dutch pictures in Dresden, ii. [44].
• Florence: view from Fiesole and Bellasguardo, ii. [155];
  • the Duomo and Campanile, [156];
  • the palaces and libraries, [157];
  • the Loggia di Lanza, [158];
  • Santa Maria Novella, [158];
  • Santa Croce and the Carmine, [159];
  • the frescoes, [159]; S. Maria Novella, [160];
  • San Michele, the shrine, [160];
  • the Uffizi Gallery, [161];
  • and pictures, [162];
  • Pitti pictures, [162];
  • paintings at the Accademia, [163];
  • Galileo's tower, [164];
  • Michael Angelo's house, [165], [166].
• Flower, Mr., i. [191].
• Fontainebleau, visit to, iii. [150].
• Forster, W. E., his article on Slavery, i. [218];
  • "Life of Dickens," iii. [104].
• Foster, Professor Michael, his draught of conditions for Lewes scholar studentship, iii. [267], [269].
• France, the Empire in, iii. [168].
• Franco-German war, iii. [86], [92].
• Franklin, Miss Rebecca, her school at Coventry, i. [17];
  • her death, iii. [149].
• Freethinkers, little sympathy with, as a class, ii. [249].
• French and English working classes, difference between, i. [131].
• French revolution of 1848, i. [129].
• Froude's "Shadows of the Clouds," i. [146].
• Fuller, Margaret, her Journal, i. [198].
• Function of art, the, iii. [144].
• Furnishing, on troubles of, ii. [267].
• "Futile Lying," letter on, ii. [290].

• Gambler, a girl, iii. [124].
• Garibaldi at the Crystal Palace, ii. [276].
• Gaskell, Mrs., suspected to have written "Adam Bede," ii. [82];
  • letter from, [102];
  • expresses admiration of "Scenes" and "Adam Bede," [107].
• Gaskell's, Mrs., "Ruth," i. [219].
• Geneva, life at Campagne Plongeon, i. [151-157];
  • Genevese preachers, [153], [154];
  • Fête of Navigation, [157];
  • effect of change of life, [159];
  • plans for lessons, [160];
  • Baronne de Ludwigsdorff, [161];
  • home remembrances, [170];
  • beauty of scenery, [171];
  • delight in town life, [171];
  • the Juras, [178];
  • last days in, [179].
• Genevese preachers, i. [153], [154].
• Genoa, the cathedral, ii. [124].
• George Eliot.—1819-37:
  • Birth at Arbury farm, i. [1];
  • removal to Griff, [2];
  • anecdotes of father, [9];
  • character of mother, [10];
  • at Dame's school, [10];
  • at Miss Lathom's school at Attleboro, [11];
  • happy childhood, [12];
  • first books read, [13];
  • first journey to Staffordshire, [15];
  • Miss Wallington's school at Nuneaton, [15];
  • writes out "Waverley," [16];
  • favorite books, [17];
  • charade-acting, [17];
  • riot at Nuneaton, [20];
  • first letter to Miss Lewis, [21];
  • mother's illness and death, [22];
  • housekeeper at Griff, [24];
  • life and studies there, [24].
• 1838-41:
  • First visit to London, i. [28];
  • religious asceticism, [29];
  • nineteenth birthday, [32];
  • religious objections to music, [32];
  • religious reflections, [34];
  • besetting sin, ambition, [35];
  • objections to fiction-reading, [36];
  • first poem, [42];
  • books read and studies pursued, [44];
  • German lessons begun, [45];
  • chart of ecclesiastical history, [46];
  • Italian studies, [49];
  • dislike to housekeeping work, [50];
  • reads Isaac Taylor, [51];
  • visits Birmingham to hear "Messiah," [53];
  • translates German poem, [54];
  • her reading, [57];
  • removal to Foleshill Road, Coventry, [59].
• 1841-46: Coventry life, i. [61];
  • mental depression, [64];
  • friendship with Mr. and Mrs. Bray, [67];
  • reads Charles Hennell's "Inquiry," [67], [68];
  • effect of this book, [74];
  • gives up going to church, [75];
  • family difficulties, [79];
  • regrets her impetuosity, [81];
  • resumes going to church, [82];
  • intimacy with Miss Sara Hennell and Mr. and Mrs. Bray, [83];
  • attitude towards immortality, [84];
  • excursion to Stratford and Malvern, [85];
  • meets Robert Owen, [86];
  • studies German and music, [86], [87];
  • opinion in regard to conformity, [89];
  • translation of Strauss's "Leben Jesu," [90];
  • despair about publication of Strauss, [94];
  • trip to the Highlands, [97].
• 1846-49:
  • Strauss translation published, i. [107];
  • classical books wanted, [108];
  • suspected of novel-writing, [108];
  • reading Foster's life, [109];
  • thoughts on Jesus at Emmaus, [110];
  • a child's idea of God, [111], [112];
  • visits London and hears "Elijah," [112];
  • re-reading Hennell's "Inquiry," [119];
  • visit to Isle of Wight with father, [120];
  • admiration of Richardson, [121];
  • delight in George Sand's "Lettres d'un Voyageur," [122];
  • dislike to Jews, [125];
  • supremacy of Hebrew poetry, [125];
  • admiration of Roberts and Creswick, [127];
  • opinion of Mr. Dawson the lecturer, [129];
  • sympathy with revolution, [130];
  • France and England contrasted, [131];
  • sympathy with nonconformity, [133];
  • visit to St. Leonards, [135];
  • father's illness, [135];
  • mental depression, [136];
  • how to be overcome, [136];
  • admiration of Louis Blanc, [137];
  • recovery from depression, [138];
  • opinion of "Jane Eyre," [138];
  • meets Emerson, [138];
  • again suffering from depression, [141];
  • contrition for evil-speaking, [141];
  • reading Macaulay's "History," [142];
  • bodily suffering, [143];
  • on the influence of Sand's and Rousseau's writings, [143], [144];
  • writes review of the "Nemesis of Faith," [145];
  • translates Spinoza's "Tractatus Theologico-Politicus," [147];
  • father's death, [148].
• 1849-50:
  • Goes abroad with Mr. and Mrs. Bray, [150];
  • Geneva, life at Campagne Plongeon, [151], [152];
  • prophetic anticipation of position seven years later, [158];
  • effect of change of life, [159];
  • plans for lessons, [160];
  • finds apartments in Geneva, [164];
  • enjoyment of society, [165];
  • need of encouragement, [165];
  • life in Geneva, [169], [170];
  • yearning for friends at home, [170];
  • remarks on translations of Spinoza, [172];
  • desire for a woman's duty, [173];
  • portrait by M. d'Albert, [178];
  • remarks on education of children, [179];
  • leaving Geneva, [180].
• 1850-54: Return to England, [181];
  • reviews Mackay's "Progress of the Intellect" in Westminster, [184];
  • assistant editor of Westminster Review, [186];
  • introduced to Mr. Lewes, [189];
  • intimacy begins, [192];
  • help in despondency, [198];
  • growing intimacy with Mr. Herbert Spencer, [201];
  • dislike of scrap-work, [203];
  • visit to Edinburgh, [211];
  • an editor's life, [214], [215];
  • ill with rheumatism, [218];
  • interest in America, [219];
  • growing intimacy with Mr. Lewes, [221], [232];
  • contemplates publishing "The Idea of a Future Life," [229];
  • union with Mr. Lewes, [234], [235];
  • letter to Mrs. Bray, [235], [236].
• 1854-55:
  • Visits Antwerp with Mr. Lewes, i. [239];
  • extracts from journal, [239] et seq.;
  • Weimar, i. [240-251];
  • Berlin recollections, [251-268];
  • work at Weimar and Berlin, [268];
  • remarks on books read, [268-271];
  • return to England, [271].
• 1855-57:
  • Articles written, i. [275];
  • effect of article on Cumming, [278];
  • reading on physiology, [279];
  • miscellaneous writing, [280];
  • Spinoza's "Ethics," translation finished, [281];
  • wishes not to be known as translator, [283];
  • articles on Young and Riehl, [286];
  • tendency to scientific accuracy, [287];
  • naturalistic experiences, [288];
  • first mention of fiction-writing, [296];
  • "how I came to write fiction," [298];
  • correspondence about "Amos Barton," [300];
  • "Mr. Gilfil's Love-story" begun, [305];
  • Blackwood's high admiration of the story, [307];
  • name of George Eliot assumed, [309];
  • artistic bent, [310];
  • Caterina and the dagger scene, [313];
  • trip to the Scilly Isles, [313];
  • social life at St. Mary's, [316];
  • on conclusions of stories, [319];
  • Jersey recollections, [319-322];
  • Mr. Liggins, [323];
  • opinions of "Mr. Gilfil's Love-story," [324], [325];
  • happiness in her life, [328];
  • Blackwood's opinion of "Janet's Repentance," [329];
  • haunted by new story, [334];
  • "Adam Bede" begun, [337];
  • receives £120 for first edition of "Clerical Life," [337];
  • unbelief in others' love, [337];
  • sympathy with individuals, [339];
  • objection to theism, [339];
  • evening studies, [342];
  • Major Blackwood suspects identity of George Eliot, [324];
  • review of the year 1857.
• 1858:
  • The Times reviews of "Scenes of Clerical Life," ii. [1];
  • letter from Charles Dickens, recognizing woman's hand, [3];
  • from Froude, [3];
  • from Mrs. Carlyle, [7];
  • reveals herself to John Blackwood, [10];
  • visit to Germany, [14-46];
  • progress with "Adam Bede," [32];
  • latter half written, [42];
  • description of life at Dresden, [45];
  • history of "Adam Bede," [48-52];
  • retrospect of year, [55].
• 1859-60:
  • Reading up for "Mill on the Floss," ii. [58];
  • letter to John Blackwood on "Adam Bede," [58];
  • wishes Carlyle to read her novels, [63];
  • awakening to fame, [68];
  • Mr. Liggins said to be author of "Adam Bede," [71];
  • finished the "Lifted Veil," [75];
  • reveals herself to Brays as author of "Adam Bede," [83];
  • trip to Switzerland, [87];
  • fourth edition (5000) of "Adam Bede" sold in a fortnight, [88];
  • receives £800 beyond bargain for success, [102];
  • 16,000 sold in one year, [107];
  • Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton, [115];
  • "Mill on the Floss" finished, [116];
  • start for Italy, [116].
• 1860:
  • First journey to Italy, ii. [120];
  • Rome, first sight of, [126];
  • description of Naples, [144], [145];
  • visit to Pompeii, [148];
  • Florence, [155];
  • first mention of Italian novel, [168];
  • Venice, [172];
  • home by Berne and Geneva, [181];
  • enriched with new ideas, [182].
• 1860-61:
  • "Mill on the Floss" success, ii. [185];
  • sitting to Lawrence for portrait, [194];
  • independence secured, [203];
  • the queen's admiration of "Mill on the Floss," [203];
  • success of "Silas Marner," [214];
  • second journey to Italy, [216];
  • hopeful about future work, [220];
  • began "Romola," [230];
  • studying for, [235], [236].
• 1862-65:
  • Begins "Romola" again, ii. [238];
  • offered £10,000 for "Romola" for the Cornhill, but idea given up, [244];
  • £7000 accepted under new terms, [245];
  • the effect of writing "Romola," [255];
  • continued ill-health, [256], [258];
  • letter from Frederick Maurice, [259];
  • third visit to Italy, [278];
  • trying a drama, [280];
  • retrospect of year 1864, [282];
  • "A Word for the Germans" written, [288];
  • "Felix Holt" begun, [290];
  • readings, [292];
  • expedition to Brittany, [296];
  • retrospect of 1865, [299].
• 1866:
  • Mr. Harrison's legal help in "Felix Holt," ii. [303], [304], [310];
  • offered £5000 for "Felix Holt" by Blackwood, [308];
  • visit to Holland and Germany, [312];
  • "The Spanish Gypsy" taken up again, [317];
  • reading for, [321];
  • start for Spain, [324].
• 1867:
  • Journey to Spain, iii. [1];
  • learning Spanish, [3];
  • letters from Spain, [4-9];
  • return to the Priory, [9];
  • two months' visit to North Germany, [14];
  • acquaintance with Mrs. Cross and family, [15];
  • "Address to the Working Men," [19].
• 1868:
  • Month's visit to Torquay, iii. [25];
  • "Spanish Gypsy" finished, [29];
  • notes on the "Spanish Gypsy," [30];
  • on the writing of poetry instead of novels, [36];
  • six weeks' journey to Baden, [37];
  • meditating subject of Timoleon, [49];
  • retrospect of the year, [50];
  • cheap edition of novels, [51].
• 1869-72:
  • Poem on "Agatha," iii. [55];
  • writing "How Lisa Loved the King," [56];
  • fourth visit to Italy, [57];
  • religion of the future, [62];
  • "Sonnets on Childhood" finished, [65];
  • the phenomena of spiritualism, [67];
  • the Byron scandal, [72];
  • "Legend of Jubal" begun, [73];
  • letter on the Positivist problem, [75];
  • visit to Germany, [76];
  • three days' visit to Oxford, [80];
  • growing dislike of migratory life, [82];
  • "Armgart" begun, [85];
  • industrial schemes, [90];
  • visit to Petersfield, [94];
  • visit from Tennyson, [99];
  • delight in intellectual activity, [101];
  • reception of "Middlemarch," [103];
  • Foster's "Life of Dickens," [104];
  • "Middlemarch" finished, [121];
  • a month's visit to Homburg, [122];
  • a girl gambler, [124];
  • memorial article on author of "Thorndale," [126];
  • "Maga" on "Middlemarch," [130].
• 1873-75:
  • Reception of "Middlemarch," iii. [138];
  • Dutch translation of novels, [139];
  • German reprints, [140];
  • visit to Cambridge, [147];
  • visit to the Master of Balliol, [149];
  • nine weeks' trip to the Continent, [150];
  • another book simmering in her thoughts, [157];
  • retrospect of 1873, [160];
  • cheaper edition of novels, [162];
  • "Legend of Jubal" published, [167];
  • journey to the Ardennes, [176];
  • sales of her books, [180];
  • value of early religious experience, [182];
  • not satisfied with "Deronda," [193];
  • depression in finishing, [194].
• 1876-78:
  • Public interest in "Deronda," iii. [199];
  • Mrs. Stowe's admiration of "Deronda," [202];
  • letter to J. W. Cross, [204];
  • trip to the Continent, [205];
  • Jewish appreciation of "Deronda," [209];
  • Dr. Adler's lecture on, [216];
  • Mrs. Stowe and the Byron case, [221];
  • appreciation of Tennyson, [229];
  • gaining strength at Witley, [231];
  • meets Crown Prince and Princess of Germany, [236];
  • visit to Oxford, [236];
  • Mr. Lewes's ill-health, [239];
  • reception at the Priory, [241];
  • Mr. Lewes's last illness and death, [245-247].
• 1879-80:
  • First weeks of loneliness, iii. [249];
  • announcement of "Theophrastus Such" delayed, [252];
  • project of Physiological Studentship, [254];
  • dissatisfied with "Theophrastus," [254];
  • letter to J. W. Cross asking counsel, [258];
  • reception of "Theophrastus" by the public, [263], [264];
  • serious renal attack, [265];
  • conditions for the studentship, [267];
  • renewed interest in social news, [270];
  • Dr. Roy appointed to studentship, [275];
  • death of John Blackwood, [276];
  • engagement to Mr. Cross, [279];
  • married at St. George's, Hanover Square, [283];
  • left for the Continent, [283];
  • letters from France and Italy, [284-294];
  • Mr. Cross's illness in Venice, [294];
  • arrival in England, [295];
  • recurrence of illness, [300];
  • recovery of strength, [313];
  • settled in Cheyne Walk, [313];
  • first appearance of sore throat, [315];
  • letter to Mrs. Strachey (unfinished), [316];
  • sudden death, [316].
• German editions of "Middlemarch," iii. [114].
• German poem, translation of, i. [54].
• German reading, iii. [124].
• German Revolution of '48 caused by real oppression, i. [258].
• German translation of "Adam Bede," ii. [116];
  • first volume received, [116].
• Germans, Vivier's anecdotes of, i. [264], [265];
  • domestic life of, [271].
• Germany, North, journey to, iii. [14];
  • places revisited and new scenes, [15].
• Germany, second visit to, 1854:
  • Munich, ii. [14-34];
  • Ischl, [37];
  • Vienna, [38];
  • Prague, [40];
  • Dresden, [45];
  • Leipzig, [46].
• Germany, visit to, in 1854;
  • extracts from journal: Weimar, i. [240];
  • Berlin, [251], [252].
• Gift of a vase from Miss Mary Cross, iii. [166].
• Girl gambler, a, iii. [124].
• Girton College scheme, iii. [18].
• Goethe on Spinoza, ii. [298].
• Goschen, Mr., dinner with, iii. [236];
  • meets Crown Prince and Princess of Prussia, [236].
• Got's acting, iii. [101].
• Granada, the Alhambra, iii. [7];
  • view from, [8].
• Grand Chartreuse, expedition to the, iii. [285].
• Grandcourt and Lush, iii. [200].
• Grandison, Sir Charles, i. [121].
• Green, Professor T., iii. [149].
• Ground of moral action, iii. [178].
• Gurney, Mr. Edmund, iii. [147].
• Gurney, Rev. Archer, on "Scenes of Clerical Life," i. [324].
• Guthrie, Dr., address by, i. [230].

• Hamilton, Sir William, valuable contributions, i. [278].
• Hamley, Colonel (now General Sir Edward Hamley), impressions of, ii. [315];
  • thanks for letter to the Times, iii. [93].
• Handel Festival, the, ii. [82].
• Hannay, Mr., on "Romola," ii. [252].
• Happiness in recovery of health, iii. [313].
• Hare, Mrs. Julius, ii. [263];
  • her death, [273].
• Harrison, Frederic, letter to, on industrial co-operation, ii. [303];
  • his legal advice in "Felix Holt," [303];
  • more consultations with, [305], [306];
  • letter to, on æsthetic teaching, etc., [318];
  • receives a copy of "Spanish Gypsy," iii. [36];
  • consultation with, [186].
• Harrogate, its lovely walks, ii. [281].
• Haughton, Mrs., letters to:
  • on contrition for evil-speaking, i. [141];
  • on friends at home, [159];
  • on the bondage of luxuries, [177];
  • on her proof-reading, [231].
• Haunted by new story, i. [334].
• Hawthorne, admiration of, i. [208].
• Heine, article on, in Westminster, i. [279].
• Helps, Arthur, dinner with, i. [230];
  • incident in Spain, [242];
  • on "Clerical Life," ii. [2].
• Hemans's "The Forest Sanctuary," i. [57].
• Hennell, Charles, analysis of "An Inquiry Concerning the Origin of Christianity," i. [68-74];
  • his marriage, [85].
• Hennell, Miss Mary, author of "An Outline of the various Social Systems founded on the Principle of Co-operation," her death, i. [84].
• Hennell, Miss Sara, first meeting with, i. [82];
  • letters to, on mental characteristics, [84];
  • dangers of nonconformity, [89], [90];
  • translating Strauss, [92];
  • Strauss difficulties, [96];
  • title of translation, [98];
  • finishing translation, [101];
  • longing for idleness, [102];
  • thankfulness for help in translation, [103];
  • visit to Mrs. Hennell, [107];
  • desire for classics, [108];
  • relief from work, [109];
  • admiration of "Heliados," [111];
  • philosophy and religion, [121];
  • "Live and teach," [122];
  • "sweet uses" of adversity, [135];
  • depression by father's illness, [136];
  • the "Romanticist," [139];
  • a longing for sympathy, [141];
  • bodily suffering, [143];
  • return to England, [180], [181];
  • Mr. Chapman's soirées, [190];
  • delight with change of life, [206];
  • letter from Berlin, [262];
  • on essay "Christianity and Infidelity," [311];
  • peacefully busy, [334];
  • delight in Mr. Lewes's books, ii. [11];
  • on the death of a mother, [12];
  • admiration of Liebig, [25];
  • sympathy with, on her mother's death, [32];
  • letter from Dresden, [45];
  • about Mrs. Clarke, [66], [67];
  • recollections of Mr. Liggins, [72];
  • authorship acknowledged to, [83];
  • "expecting disappointments," [201], [202];
  • settled in new house, [204], [205];
  • on the blessings of good health, [229];
  • old remembrances, [233];
  • on her low health, [306];
  • a birthday letter, iii. [129].
• Hereditary misfortunes, iii. [34].
• Hereford, Dean of, i. [227].
• Herts, country-house in, iii. [186].
• Higher education of women, iii. [13], [146].
• History of "Adam Bede," ii. [48-52].
• "History of Europe," Alison's, i. [282].
• History reading, iii. [234].
• Holbein's Madonna, ii. [42].
• Holland and Germany, journey to, ii. [312];
  • the route taken, [315].
• Holland, Sir Henry, visit from, ii. [321].
• Holmwood Common, iii. [174].
• Homburg, the gaming-tables, iii. [122].
• Home, enjoyment of, iii. [208].
• Home for Girls, iii. [181].
• Home life, i. [13]; iii. [107], [108].
• "Horsedealer in Syria," ii. [101].
• Housekeeping work, dislike of, i. [50].
• How I came to write fiction, i. [298-300].
• Hungarian, "Adam Bede" translated into, ii. [115].
• Hunt, Leigh, his "The Religion of the Heart," i. [226].
• Huth, Mrs. and Miss, iii. [147].
• Hutton, R. H., letter to, on "Romola," ii. [261].
• "Huxley on M. Comte," Dr. Congreve's article on, iii. [58].
• Huxley, Mr., an agreeable evening with, i. [220].
• Hyrtl, the German anatomist, ii. [39].

• "Idea of a Future Life," contemplates publishing, i. [229].
• Ilfracombe recollections: journey to, i. [285];
  • naturalistic experiences, [288];
  • zoological expeditions, [289];
  • Devonshire lanes, [289];
  • Rev. Mr. Tugwell, [290];
  • the scientific spirit, [291];
  • leave for Tenby, [292].
• Illness a partial death, iii. [155].
• Illustrations in cheap edition, not queerer than in other books, iii. [217].
• Impetuosity regretted, i. [81].
• "Impossibility of marrying," dangers of speaking of, ii. [212].
• Incentive to production, iii. [224].
• Independence of external good, i. [81].
• Indian newspaper-writing, iii. [237].
• Individual versus the general, the, iii. [33].
• Industrious poor, helping the, iii. [90].
• Inkermann, battle of, a mere brave blundering, iii. [182].
• Inman, Dr., Liverpool, ii. [114].
• Innspruck and Wildbad, iii. [294], [295].
• Intellectual activity, enjoyment of, iii. [101].
• Intellectual superciliousness, ii. [255].
• "Introduction to the Science of Language," iii. [303].
• "Iphigenia in Aulis," iii. [145].
• Irregular verses, the use of, iii. [40].
• Ischl, the Gmunden See, ii. [37];
  • voyage down the Danube, [38].
• Isle of Wight, trip to the, ii. [72], [256].
• Italian novel, first mention of, ii. [168].
• Italian studies, i. [49].
• Italy, first journey to, 1860:
  • Turin, ii. [122];
  • Genoa, [123];
  • Leghorn, [124];
  • Pisa, [125];
  • Rome, [126-144];
  • Naples, [144];
  • Salerno, [151];
  • Pæstum, [152];
  • Amalfi, [153];
  • Sorrento, [153], [154];
  • Florence, [155];
  • Bologna, [168];
    • Padua, [170];
  • Venice, [172];
  • Verona, [179];
  • Milan, [179-181].
• Italy, second journey to, ii. [216];
  • stay at Florence, [217];
  • renewed delight in, [219];
  • work during the visit, [221].
• Italy, third visit to, ii. [277];
  • Mr. Burton's companionship, [278];
  • the Alps by the St. Gothard, [278].
• Italy, fourth visit to, iii. [57];
  • places visited, [58].
• Italy, fifth visit to: Milan, iii. [288];
  • Verona, [289];
  • Venice, [291].

• "Jane Eyre," opinion of, i. [138].
• Jansa, Herr, takes lessons from, ii. [271].
• Jersey recollections, 1857:
  • scenery, i. [319];
  • inland walks, [320], [321];
  • coast beauties, [321];
  • books read, [322].
• Jesus at Emmaus, thoughts on, i. [110].
• Jewish appreciation of "Deronda," iii. [207], [216].
• Jews, dislike of, i. [125];
  • English ignorance of the, iii. [212].
• Jones, Mr. Owen, decorates the new house, ii. [265], [266].
• Journal, 1855:
  • Third book of "Ethics," preface written, i. [273];
  • Westminster Review, [274];
  • wrote for the Leader, [275].
• 1856:
  • Working at Spinoza, i. [281];
  • first mention of fiction-writing, [296];
  • "Mr. Gilfil's Love-story" begun, [305].
• 1857:
  • Pleasant letters regarding "Gilfil," i. [323], [324];
  • finished "Janet's Repentance," [336];
  • began "Adam Bede," [336];
  • books read, [342];
  • the year's work, [344].
• 1858:
  • News from the city regarding "Clerical Life," ii. [12];
  • visit to Germany, [14-46];
  • "Adam Bede" finished, [48].
• 1859:
  • A trip to Lucerne, ii. [87];
  • return to England, [88];
  • declined American offer for new story, [94];
  • anxiety and doubt about new novel, [97].
• 1860:
  • Seeing friends, ii. [114];
  • first journey to Italy, [120-182].
• 1861:
  • Second journey, ii. [216];
  • struggling constantly with depression, [227];
  • continued ill-health, [243-245];
  • despondency, [279].
• 1868:
  • Books, reading, iii. [25];
  • retrospect of year, [50].
• 1869:
  • Work in prospect, iii. [55];
  • beginning "Middlemarch," [69];
  • "Legend of Jubal" begun, [73].
• 1870:
  • In languid health, iii. [79].
• 1871:
  • First part of "Middlemarch" published, iii. [104].
• 1873:
  • Success of "Middlemarch," iii. [138];
  • retrospect of year, [159].
• 1875:
  • Sales of books, iii. [180].
• 1876:
  • Depression in writing "Deronda," iii. [194].
• 1877:
  • Cabinet edition decided on, iii. [230];
  • declined to renew copyright agreement, [230];
  • close of her journal, [233].
• 1879:
  • Seeing visitors, iii. [260].
• 1880:
  • Her marriage with Mr. Cross, iii. [283];
  • came to 4 Cheyne Walk, [311].
• Jowett, Mr., Master of Balliol, visit to, iii. [149].
• Julian the Apostate, Strauss's pamphlet on, i. [139].
• Justification in writing, iii. [173].

• Kaufmann, Dr. David, letter to, on his estimate of "Daniel Deronda," iii. [222];
  • on the function of the teacher, [226];
  • on Lewes's death, [257].
• Kenelm Chillingly, iii. [141].
• Knight, Charles, i. [202].

• La Bruyère's wisdom, iii. [235].
• Lamartine as a poet, i. [130].
• Languages, her knowledge of, iii. [305].
• La Vernia, description of, ii. [223].
• Lawrence wishes to take her portrait, ii. [115];
  • sits for it, [194].
• Lecky's "History of Rationalism," ii. [291].
• Lecture on "Daniel Deronda," by Dr. Adler, iii. [216].
• Leeds, the horrible smoke of, iii. [43];
  • its fine hospital, [44].
• "Legend of Jubal," some verses written, iii. [73];
  • published as "Legend of Jubal, and other Poems," [167];
  • new edition of, [169].
• Leghorn, the Jewish synagogue, ii. [125];
  • to Civita Vecchia, [125];
  • a pleasant companion, [126].
• Leipzig, two days at, ii. [45];
  • its picture-gallery, [45].
• Leroux, Pierre, his theories, i. [194].
• Letters to her friends almost all destroyed, ii. [207].
• "Letter to Berthelot," Renan's, ii. [269].
• Lewes, Charles, first letter to, ii. [91];
  • on musical parties, [98];
  • on liking for algebra, [106];
  • returns from Hofwyl, [185];
  • receives appointment in Post-office, [194];
  • letters from Florence to, [216], [219], [221];
  • from Isle of Wight, [257];
  • his engagement, [278];
  • letters to, on Harrison's paper, iii. [262];
  • on printing the "Problems," [276];
  • from Grenoble, [285];
  • from Milan, [288]; from Venice, [291];
  • from Stuttgart and Wildbad, [294], [295];
  • on his visit to St. Blasien, [297];
  • on recurrence of illness, [300].
• Lewes, George H., i. [188];
  • first introduction to Miss Evans, [189];
  • meet at the theatre, [192];
  • article on "Julia von Krüdener," [192];
  • his Comte papers, [209];
  • growing intimacy, [221];
  • his "History of Philosophy," [227];
  • illness, [231];
  • intimate relations with Miss Evans, [232];
  • their union, [235];
  • completed life of Goethe at Weimar, [267];
  • estimation of George Eliot, [277];
  • necessity for hard work, [277];
  • proposes sending boys to Hofwyl, [284];
  • goes to Switzerland with them, [297];
  • highly pleased with "Amos Barton," [300];
  • letter to John Blackwood with MS. of "Scenes of Clerical Life," [300];
  • George Eliot revealed to John Blackwood, ii. [10];
  • suggestions in "Adam Bede," [49], [50];
  • extract from Journal, [55];
  • "Physiology of Common Life," [92];
  • "Studies in Animal Life," [113];
  • dispassionate judgment, [202];
  • delicate health, [223];
  • busy with Aristotle, [233];
  • "History of Science" begun, [243];
  • views of Bible-reading, [251];
  • buoyant nature, [290];
  • walking expedition with Mr. Spencer, iii. [15];
  • acquaintance with Mrs. Cross, [15];
  • visits Bonn, [20];
  • death of his mother, [91];
  • proposed for Rectorship of St. Andrews, [232];
  • continued illness, [240];
  • his death, [247].
• Lewes, Herbert, his death, iii. [189].
• Lewes Studentship proposed, iii. [253];
  • plans for, and trustees, [254].
• Lewes, Thornton, leaves for Natal, ii. [264];
  • returns, iii. [63];
  • his death, [73].
• Lewis, Miss, Leamington, iii. [192].
• Lewis, Miss, letters to:
  • On first visit to London, i. [28];
  • on living for eternity, [30];
  • emulation of Wilberforce, [31];
  • oratorios, [32];
  • bad effect of novels, [37];
  • religious controversies, [39];
  • first authorship, [42];
  • studies pursued, [44];
  • Italian studies, [49];
  • Mrs. Somerville's "Connection of the Physical Sciences," [50];
  • opinions of Isaac Taylor, [51];
  • German translation, [54];
  • a walled-in world, [55];
  • sensitiveness, [57];
  • war's purgations, [59];
  • satisfaction with new life, [62];
  • depression of mind, [64];
  • mind requiring rest, [65];
  • desire for brain waves, [66];
  • religious doubts and difficulties, [74], [75];
  • on self-denial, [78].
• Lichfield, recollections of, ii. [96].
• Liddell, Dean, Oxford, iii. [173].
• Liebig, Professor, ii. [23];
  • admiration of, [25], [29].
• "Life of Goethe," i. [275].
• "Lifted Veil," finished April, 1859, ii. [75];
  • the idea of the story, iii. [141].
• Liggins, Mr., first mention of, i. [323];
  • calls himself George Eliot, ii. [71];
  • some recollections of, [72];
  • Mr. Anders's apology, [78];
  • Mr. Bracebridge's letter regarding, [99].
• Limitations of scientists, iii. [182].
• Lincoln, President, anecdote of, iii. [82].
• Lincoln, the Rector of, iii. [81].
• Lincolnshire, visits to, iii. [288].
• "Lisa," writing rhymed poem on, iii. [55].
• Literary biography, iii. [163].
• Literary taste at bookstalls, iii. [51].
• Littlehampton, trip to, ii. [247].
• Liturgy of the English Church and the Bible, ii. [226].
• Living abroad, drawbacks to, iii. [203].
• Lockhart, Captain, his writings, iii. [98], [193].
• Lonely days: "here I and sorrow sit," iii. [249].
• Louis Blanc, admiration of, i. [138].
• Louis Philippe and his sons, i. [130].
• Lowell's "My Study Windows," iii. [96].
• Lucerne, a trip to, ii. [87];
  • visit from Mrs. Congreve, [87].
• Lush and Grandcourt, iii. [200].
• Lushington, Mrs. Vernon, iii. [220].
• Lyrics for "Spanish Gypsy," iii. [16].
• Lytton, Hon. Mrs. Robert (now Lady Lytton), letter of sympathy to, iii. [83];
  • on thoughts of death, [99], [100];
  • on Lord Lytton's Indian experiences, [281].
• Lytton, Hon. Robert (now Lord Lytton), on pronunciation in "Spanish Gypsy," iii. [52];
  • explanation of errors, [52].
• Lytton, Sir Edward Bulwer, letter from, thanking author of "Adam Bede," ii. [74], [75];
  • visit from, [115];
  • criticises "Adam Bede," [115];
  • his criticisms of "Maggie," [190].

• Macaulay, interest in, i. [142].
• Mackay's "Progress of the Intellect" reviewed, i. [183];
  • extracts from, [183-185], [190].
• "Macmillan," article on "The Mill on the Floss" in, ii. [212].
• Macmillan, Mr., his proposal for volume on Shakespeare, iii. [231].
• Madrid, the Gallery, iii. [9].
• Madonna di San Sisto, first impression of, ii. [43].
• Main, Mr., collector of "The Wise, Witty, and Tender Sayings of George Eliot," iii. [103];
  • opinions of, [105].
• Maine, Sir Henry, on Lewes's "Physiology," iii. [267].
• Malvern, trip to, ii. [228];
  • improved health from, [230], [231].
• "Man's Nature and Development," i. [187].
• "Marie of Villefranche," by Miss Mary Cross, iii. [100].
• Marriage, possibilities in, iii. [181].
• Marriage, the ideal, iii. [142].
• Martineau, Harriet, "The Crofton Boys," i. [93];
  • meeting with, [94], [193];
  • invitation from, [197];
  • article on "Niebuhr," [203];
  • visit to, at Ambleside, [212];
  • respect for her, ii. [103];
  • her autobiography, iii. [214], [219].
• Martineau, James, i. [192];
  • critique of Kingsley's "Phaethon," [219];
  • on Sir William Hamilton, [223];
  • invitation from, [54]; "Comte," [55].
• Martineau, Maria, her death, ii. [274].
• "Masculine woman," dislike of the, iii. [308].
• Masson, Mr., on Recent Philosophy, ii. [298].
• Mathematics, her love for, iii. [305].
• Matlock, recollections of, iii. [47].
• Maurice, Frederick, generous tribute from, ii. [259].
• Mazzini, asked to write on "Freedom v. Despotism," i. [194];
  • his speeches, [198].
• Mazzini Fund, the, ii. [294].
• Mazzini's death, iii. [113].
• "Meliorist," the word, iii. [217].
• Memorial article on author of "Thorndale," iii. [126].
• Mendelssohn's "Letters," iii. [84].
• Mental characteristics described, i. [84].
• "Middlemarch," writing introduction, iii. [69];
  • reading for, [71], [72];
  • the design of, [99];
  • anticipations of, [103];
  • first part published, [104];
  • French and German interest in, [112];
  • delayed by ill-health, [113];
  • £1200 from Harpers for reprint, [114];
  • finished, [121];
  • reviewed in Blackwood's Magazine, [130];
  • new edition called for, [153];
  • number sold in 1873, [160];
  • December, 1874, [20],000 sold, [180].
• Milan, the Ambrosian Library, ii. [180];
  • the "Brera," [180];
  • Church of San Ambrogio, [181];
  • the "Luini" pictures, iii. [288].
• Military men, articles by, iii. [265].
• Mill, John Stuart, his "Autobiography," iii. [158].
• "Mill on the Floss," first volume finished as "Sister Maggie," ii. [101];
  • Blackwood's proposals for, [110];
  • discussions as to title, [111];
  • Blackwood's suggestion adopted, [112];
  • Harpers, New York, give £300 for American edition, [115];
  • third volume finished, [116];
  • inscription on, [116];
  • sad at finishing, [117];
  • first and second editions (6000) sold, [185].
• Miracle play at Antwerp, the, ii. [316].
• Miscellaneous writing, i. [280].
• Misconception of others, on, ii. [197].
• "Miss Brooke," experimenting on, iii. [91].
• Mixed marriages in Germany, ii. [28].
• Modern German art, ii. [27].
• Mohl, Madame, dinner with, iii. [1].
• Moleschott, of Zurich, ii. [182].
• Molière's "Misanthrope," ii. [108].
• Mommsen's "History of Rome," ii. [264].
• Mont Cenis, passage of, ii. [120].
• Moral action, ground of, iii. [178].
• Moral sanction is obedience to facts, iii. [34].
• Morality with the "Bible shut," i. [230].
• More, Mrs. Hannah, her letters, i. [123].
• Müller, Max, ii. [239]; iii. [149].
• Munich, the opera, ii. [18];
  • Samson and Delilah, [18];
  • Schwanthaler's "Bavaria," [19];
  • appreciation of Rubens, [20];
  • Catholic and Protestant worship, [21];
  • the Glyptothek and Pinnacothek, [21];
  • Kaulbach, Bodenstedt, and Genelli, [22], [23];
  • Professor Wagner, [23];
  • Professor Martius, [23];
  • Liebig, [23], [25];
  • Heyse and Geibel, [23];
  • music of the "Faust," [24];
  • Professor Löher, [24];
  • Albert Dürer's paintings, [24];
  • Bluntschli and Melchior Meyr, [25];
  • the Tafel-rund, [26];
  • the Siebolds, [26], [33];
  • Kaulbach's pictures, [27];
  • mixed marriages, [28];
  • porcelain-painting, [30];
  • Madame Bodenstedt, [30];
  • visit to Grosshesselohe, [31];
  • Lewes leaves for Switzerland, [33];
  • leaves for Dresden, [33].
• Murillo's St. Rodriguez, ii. [43].
• Music, cheap, inconveniences connected with, in England, ii. [81].
• Musical evenings with Mr. Pigott and Mr. Redford, ii. [227], [229], [230].
• Musical parties, ii. [99].
• Myers, Mr. Frederick, Cambridge, iii. [147].
• "My Vegetarian Friend," written, ii. [285].

• Nancy, the Germans at, iii. [151].
• Naples: first impressions, ii. [144];
  • visits to Baiæ, Avernus, and Misena, [145];
  • to Pozzuoli and Capo di Monte, [146];
  • the Cemetery, [147];
  • Museo Borbonico, [147];
  • Pompeii, [148];
  • its remains, [149];
  • beauty of, [150];
  • the pictures at, [151];
  • Giotto's frescoes, [151];
  • leave for Florence, [154].
• Nearness of death, imagining the, iii. [170].
• Negative attitude unsatisfactory, iii. [156].
• "Nemesis of Faith," reviews the, i. [145];
  • note from Froude, [145].
• New house, enjoyment of, ii. [269], [270].
• Newman, Francis, i. [140]; iii. [165].
• Newman's "Apologia," ii. [280].
• Newman's, J. H., "Lectures on the Position of Catholics," i. [192].
• New misery in writing, i. [227].
• New Year's wishes, iii. [139].
• Nichol's "Architecture of the Heavens," i. [65].
• Nightingale, Miss Florence, note from, i. [206]; ii. [61].
• Noel, Mr., i. [191].
• Nonconformity, effect of, i. [79];
  • dangers of, [90].
• Normandy, trip to, ii. [296].
• North British, favorable review, ii. [199].
• Notes on the "Spanish Gypsy," iii. [30], [31].
• Novel-writing, suspected of, i. [108].
• Nuneaton, riot at, i. [20].
• Nürnberg, description of, ii. [14];
  • its roofs and balconies, [15];
  • the Frauen-Kirche, [16];
  • effect of Catholic "Function," [17];
  • Albert Dürer's house, [17].

• Old people's judgments, i. [118].
• "Old Town Folks," appreciation of, iii. [66].
• Oliphant, Lawrence, and the colonizing of Palestine, iii. [252].
• Oliphant, Mrs., the novelist, ii. [11].
• Once a Week, a story requested for, ii. [104], [106].
• Oratorios at Birmingham, i. [53].
• Oratorios condemned, i. [32].
• Orientals, English attitude towards, iii. [211].
• Osborne, Bernal, on "Deronda," iii. [200].
• Otter, Francis, letter to, on his engagement, iii. [180], [181].
• Owen, Professor, i. [202];
  • on the cerebellum, [210];
  • sends his "Palæontology," ii. [116].
• Owen, Robert, i. [86].
• Oxford, first visit to, iii. [80];
  • people met with, [80].
• Oxford Tracts and Christian Year, i. [48].

• Padua, Church of San Antonio, ii. [170];
  • the Arena Chapel, [171];
  • Giotto's painting, [171].
• Pæstum, the Temple of Neptune, ii. [152].
• Paris, visit to Comte's apartment, ii. [286].
• Parkes, Miss (Madame Belloc), friendship with, i. [195]; iii. [289].
• "Pascal," by Principal Tulloch, iii. [235].
• Passionate affliction, defence against, iii. [84].
• Patience, the need of, iii. [128].
• "Paul Bradley," by Mrs. Bray, iii. [164].
• Pays no visits in London, ii. [215].
• Peabody, George, his magnificent gift, ii. [245].
• Pears, Mrs., letters to: on religious difficulties, i. [76];
  • on desire for truth, [77];
  • on her impetuosity, [81];
  • her friendship with Mr. Robert Evans, [147].
• Penmaenmawr, ii. [96].
• Permanent influence of ideas, the, iii. [89].
• Persistence in application, iii. [304].
• Personal bearing, her, iii. [310].
• Personal portraiture objected to, iii. [228].
• Personality, independence of our, iii. [84].
• Phenomena of spiritualism, the, iii. [67].
• Philosophical Club, first meeting of, ii. [248];
  • dissolution of, [253].
• "Philosophy of Necessity," the, i. [339].
• Phrenological indications, i. [78].
• Phrenology, the position of, i. [340].
• Physiological reading, i. [279].
• Physiological Studentship, the purpose of, iii. [256].
• "Physiology for Schools," Mrs. Bray's, ii. [267].
• Pigott, Mr. Edward Smith, i. [293].
• Pisa, description of, ii. [125];
  • the cathedral, [125].
• Pity and fairness, where requisite, iii. [228].
• Plain living and high thinking, iii. [161].
• Plombières and the Vosges, iii. [150].
• Poem in Christian Observer, i. [43].
• Poetry instead of novels, on writing, iii. [36].
• Poetry of Christianity, i. [93]; ii. [251].
• Poets, the value of, iii. [184].
• Political and religious standpoint, iii. [308].
• Pompeii and its remains, ii. [149], [150], [154].
• Ponsonby, Hon. Mrs. (now Lady Ponsonby), letter to, on the idea of God an exaltation of human goodness, etc., iii. [176];
  • on the desire to know the difficulties of others, [184];
  • on excess of public-houses, [188];
  • on pity and fairness, [228].
• Poor, helping industrious, iii. [90].
• "Popular author," characteristics of the, ii. [59].
• Popular Concerts, Monday, ii. [204], [248].
• Popular judgment of books, iii. [62].
• Popular preacher, a, iii. [87].
• Positivism in "The Spanish Gypsy," iii. [49].
• Positivism regarded as one-sided, ii. [224].
• Possession, the sense of, iii. [306].
• Power of the will, the, iii. [179].
• Poyser, Mrs., her dialogue, ii. [54];
  • quoted in House of Commons, [69].
• Prague: the Jewish burial-ground, ii. [40];
  • impressive view, [41].
• Preacher, a popular, criticised, iii. [87].
• Presentation copies never sent, ii. [216].
• Press notices of "Adam Bede," ii. [60].
• "Pretended comforts," ii. [296].
• Prince Albert, admiration of, i. [202].
• Printed rancor, on, iii. [221].
• Priory, receptions at the, iii. [241].
• Private correspondence almost all destroyed, ii. [207].
• Private theatricals, i. [176], [178].
• "Problems of Life and Mind," by G. H. Lewes, iii. [203], [210].
• Prospective Review, i. [219];
  • on Goethe, [224].
• Psychical troubles, i. [232].
• Public-houses, excess of, iii. [188].
• Public interest in "Deronda," iii. [199].
• Public school and University education, iii. [309].
• Publishing books, on different methods of, iii. [190], [191].
• "Pug," letter to John Blackwood on, ii. [91].

• Quackery of infidelity, i. [89].
• Quarterly on "The Mill on the Floss," ii. [201].
• Queen's admiration of "The Mill on the Floss," ii. [203].
• Quiet joy in success, ii. [72].
• Quirk, Mr., finally renounces Liggins, ii. [96].

• Race characteristics, i. [125].
• Ragatz, "The Cure" at, iii. [206];
  • gain in health from, [210].
• Rancor, on printed, iii. [221].
• Rawlinson, Professor, iii. [80].
• Reade, Charles, on "Adam Bede," ii. [70].
• Reading aloud, the effect of her, iii. [302], [303].
• Reading world very narrow, iii. [131].
• Reeves, Sims, singing "Adelaide," ii. [205].
• Religion and art, i. [126];
  • the development of, iii. [62].
• Religious controversies, i. [39], [47];
  • aspirations, [63];
  • doubts and difficulties, [74], [76];
  • forms and ceremonies, ii. [205];
  • assemblies, the need of, iii. [156];
  • and political standpoint, [308].
• Renan, estimate of, ii. [269];
  • his appearance, iii. [3].
• Renan's "Vie de Jésus," ii. [260].
• Renunciation, on, iii. [35].
• Repugnance to autobiography, iii. [221].
• Responsibility of authorship, ii. [89].
• Retrospect of year 1819, i. [4], [5];
  • of 1857, [346];
  • of 1858, ii. [55];
  • of 1864, [285];
  • of 1865, [300];
  • of 1868, iii. [50];
  • of year 1873, [159].
• Reviews, effect of, ii. [192];
  • abstains from reading, [193].
• Reviews of "Spanish Gypsy," iii. [40], [44].
• Revolution, sympathy with, i. [130].
• Revolutionary spirit, i. [138].
• "Revue des Deux Mondes," review of "Adam Bede," ii. [105];
  • Lewes accepts editorship of periodical on plan of, ii. [287].
• Rewards of the artist, the, ii. [107].
• Richmond Park, the charms of, i. [326];
  • sunset effects, [341].
• Riehl's "Die Familie," i. [344].
• Ritualistic services at Ryde, iii. [91].
• Rive, M. le Professeur de la, his lectures, i. [175], [177].
• Romance in real life, a, ii. [258], [259].
• Rome: from Civita Vecchia to, ii. [126];
  • first sight of, [126];
  • disappointed with, [127];
  • view from the Capitol, [128];
  • the Sabine and Alban hills, [128];
  • the temples and palaces, [129];
  • the arches and columns, [129], [130];
  • the Coliseum and baths, [130];
  • the Lateran and Vatican sculptures, [131];
  • St. Peter's, [132];
  • mediæval churches, [133];
  • Sistine chapel, [133];
  • palaces, [133], [134];
  • illumination of St. Peter's, [134];
  • the Quirinal, [134];
  • San Pietro in Vincoli, [134];
  • Michael Angelo's "Moses," [135];
  • modern artists, [135];
  • Riedel and Overbeck, [136];
  • Pamfili Doria gardens, [137];
  • Villa Albani and Frascati, [137];
  • Tivoli, [138];
  • pictures at the Capitol, [139];
  • the Lateran Museum, [139];
  • Shelley's and Keats's graves, [140];
  • removal to apartments, [142];
  • the French occupation, [143];
  • beautiful mothers and children, [143];
  • the Pope's blessing, [144].
• "Romola," first conception of, ii. [197];
  • began the first chapter, [230];
  • studying for, [234];
  • begins it again, [238];
  • Smith offers £10,000 for it to appear in the Cornhill, [244];
  • £7000 accepted, [245];
  • slow progress in writing, [246], [250];
  • opinions of, [252];
  • strain of writing, [255];
  • finished Part XIII., [255];
  • completion of, [256];
  • application to translate into Italian, iii. [216].
• Rosehill, visit to, i. [193].
• Roundell, Mr. and Mrs. Charles, iii. [149].
• Roy, Dr. Charles, elected Lewes Physiological student, iii. [275];
  • his treatise on "Blood Pressure," [298].
• Rubens, appreciation of, ii. [20].
• Rumors of authorship, ii. [13].
• Ruskin and Alfieri, reading, iii. [292].
• Ruskin's Works, opinion of, ii. [5].
• Ryde, visit to, iii. [91];
  • ritualistic service at, [91].

• Salerno, visit to, ii. [151].
• Salzburg, description of scenery, ii. [36].
• Sand's, George, "Lettres d'un Voyageur," i. [122].
• Saragossa, the old cathedral, iii. [5].
• Saturday Popular Concerts, last visit to, iii. [315].
• Saturday Review, the, i. [281].
• Saveney on "La Physique Moderne," iii. [3].
• Scarborough, visit to, ii. [281].
• "Scenes of Clerical Life:" "Sad Fortunes of Amos Barton," i. [299];
  • offered to Blackwood, [300];
  • accepted, [304];
  • sensitiveness of author, [304];
  • "Mr. Gilfil's Love-story" begun, [305];
  • "Amos Barton," published in January (1856) Magazine, [305];
  • opinions regarding authorship, [308], [309];
  • assumes the name of George Eliot, [310];
  • Caterina and the dagger scene, [313];
  • "Mr. Gilfil" finished, [319];
  • epilogue to, [319];
  • opinions of, [324];
  • "Janet's Repentance" begun, [326];
  • Blackwood's opinion of, [328];
  • increased circulation, [342];
  • favorable opinions of, ii. [10].
• Scherer, Professor, Geneva, iii. [8].
• School-fellows, excels her, i, [19].
• Schwalbach, description of, ii. [312].
• Scientists, limitations of, iii. [182].
• Scilly Islands, recollections of: St. Mary's, i. [314];
  • Beauties of the coast, [314];
  • sunlight on the waves, [315];
  • social life, [316].
• Scotch Reign of Terror, disbelief in a, i. [132].
• Scotland, trip to, i. [97]; visit to, ii. [275].
• Scott Commemoration, afraid of journey to, iii. [97], [98].
• Scott, Life of Sir Walter, ii. [61].
• Scrap-work, dislike of, i. [203].
• Sculpture and painting, i. [127].
• Sensibility to criticism, ii. [63].
• Sequel to "Adam Bede" proposed, ii. [100].
• Shakespeare's "Passionate Pilgrim," i. [273].
• Shakespeare, the acting preferred to the reading, ii. [109].
• Shakespeare, volume on, requested by Macmillan, iii. [231].
• Sheffield, visit to, iii. [46]; early recollections of, [46].
• Shelley's "Cloud," i. [53].
• Shottermill, life at, iii. [94].
• Sibree, John, letters to, i. [123];
  • on "Tancred" and D'Israeli, [123], [124];
  • race characteristics, [125];
  • religion and art, [126];
  • painting and sculpture, [127];
    • sympathy with him, [128];
  • necessity of utterance, [132];
  • desire for a change, [133].
• Sibree, Miss Mary (Mrs. John Cash), her recollections of Miss Evans at Coventry, i. [113-116];
  • letter to, [327].
• Sidgwick, Mr. Henry, iii. [147].
• Siebold the anatomist, ii. [26].
• Siena, expedition to, ii. [164];
  • the Cathedral, [164], [165];
  • its paintings, [165].
• "Silas Marner, the Weaver of Raveloe," a sudden inspiration, ii. [204];
  • story begun, [207];
  • its sombre character, [210];
  • subscription to, 5500, [212].
• Silence of the country, iii. [107].
• "Silly Novels by Lady Novelists," article on, finished, i. [297].
• Simpson, Mr. George, Edinburgh, letter to, iii. [135];
  • proposed a yet cheaper edition of novels, [162];
  • author's regret at not adopting the plan, [162].
• "Small upper room" 1866 years ago, comparison with, ii. [285].
• Smith, Albert, on "Amos Barton," i. [308].
• Smith, Barbara (Madame Bodichon), i. [205], [295].
  • See Madame Bodichon.
• Smith, Mr. George, offers £10,000 for "Romola," to appear in the Cornhill, ii. [244];
  • accepted for £7000, [245].
• Smith, Mrs. William, letters to, on the Memoir of her husband, iii. [126], [142];
  • on the higher education of women, [146];
  • on her poems, [160].
• Smith, Sydney, anecdote of, ii. [299].
• Smith, William, author of "Thorndale," ii. [5], [212];
  • his illness, iii. [109];
  • his death, [119];
  • memoir of, [185].
• Social dangers, i. [56].
• Somerville's, Mrs., "Connection of the Physical Sciences," i. [50].
• "Sonnets on Childhood," iii. [65].
• Sorrento, visit to, ii. [153];
  • its neighborhood, Vico, and the Syren Isles, [154].
• Spain, set off on journey to, ii. [324];
  • return home, iii. [9].
• "Spanish Gypsy," reading for, ii. [280];
  • first act finished, [283];
  • taken up again, [317];
  • reading for, [321];
  • recommenced in new form, [321];
  • reading for, iii. [15];
  • Mr. Lewes's opinion of, [22];
  • shortening of, [29];
  • finished, [29];
  • notes on, [30];
  • the motif of the poem, [30];
  • reviews of, [39], [40];
  • second and third editions, [42], [45];
  • reprinted in Germany, [140];
  • number sold in 1873, [160];
  • fifth edition published, [180].
• Spanish grammar, studying, ii. [282].
• Spanish, new system of learning, iii. [3];
  • scenery, [4];
  • travelling, [6].
• Speke, Captain, the African traveller, ii. [95], [101].
• Spencer, Herbert, first meeting with, i. [187];
  • intimacy with, [201], [203];
  • "Universal Postulate," [225];
  • "Genesis of Science," [234];
  • Essays, [371];
  • his influence on Lewes, ii. [55], [56];
  • enthusiastic letter from, [89];
  • his new work, [206];
  • visit from, [276];
  • introduces Lewes to Mrs. Cross, iii. [15];
  • his teaching, [184];
  • last visit from, [315].
• Spencer, Mr., senior, teacher, ii. [272].
• Spinoza's "Ethics," desires not to be known as translator, i. [283].
• Spinoza's "Tractatus Theologico-Politicus," i. [147], [172].
• Spiritualistic evidence, iii. [111];
  • phenomena, [116].
• "Spiritual Wives," a nasty book, iii. [130].
• Spiritualism, the phenomena of, iii. [67];
  • one aspect of, [117].
• Splügen Pass, journey across, ii. [181].
• Springs of affection reopened, iii. [280].
• Stachelberg and Klönthal, iii. [207].
• Staffordshire, first journey to, i. [15].
• Stanley, Lord, his opinion of the "Scenes," i. [325].
• Statesman review of "Clerical Life," ii. [6].
• Stella Collas in "Juliet," ii. [259].
• Stephenson, George, one of her heroes, ii. [241].
• St. Blasien, in the Schwarz Wald, iii. [207].
• St. Leonards, visit to, i. [223].
• St. Paul's, charity children singing, i. [203].
• Stories, on conclusions of, i. [319].
• Stowe, Mrs., Miss Cobbe's rejoinder to, ii. [253];
  • letters to, iii. [60];
  • on early memories of, [60];
  • the popular judgment of books, [61];
  • the development of religion, [62];
  • a woman's experience, [63];
  • on appreciation of "Old Town Folks," [66];
  • Professor Stowe's psychological experience, [67];
  • phenomena of spiritualism, [67];
  • on the benefits of country quiet, [110];
  • on spiritualistic phenomena, [116];
  • on Goethe, [175];
  • on her admiration for "Deronda," [202];
  • on the Jewish element in "Deronda," [211].
• Stowe, Mrs., letter to Mrs. Follen, i. [220].
• Stowe, Professor, his psychological experience, iii. [66];
  • a story by, iii. [129].
• Strachey, Mrs., letter to (unfinished), iii. [315].
• "Stradivarius," referred to, iii. [228].
• Strain of writing "Romola," ii. [255].
• Strauss, translation of, i. [90], [94];
  • delay in publication, [95];
  • difficulties, [96];
  • title, [98];
  • finishing translation, [101];
  • Miss Hennell's help in translation, [103];
  • review of, [109];
  • interview with, [240];
  • renewed acquaintance with, ii. [46].
• Strength while abroad, iii. [301].
• Stuart, Mrs., visit from, iii. [255].
• Study, enjoyment of, ii. [322].
• Studying for "Romola," ii. [234], [240], [246], [249], [250].
• Sturgis, Julian, high opinion of, iii. [257].
• Sully, James, letter to, on Mr. Lewes's articles, iii. [260], [269], [273];
  • thanking him for proof-reading, [274].
• "Sunshine through the Clouds," i. [233].
• Surrey, enjoyment, iii. [170].
• Surrey hills preferred to the sea-side, iii. [272].
• Swansea, cockle-women at, i. [292].
• Swayne, Rev. Mr., his delight with "Mr. Gilfil's Love-Story," i. [311].
• Switzerland, letters during residence in 1849, i. [151-179].
• Sympathy, with other women, iii. [100];
  • the necessity of, ii. [269];
  • recovery of, iii. [293].

• Tauchnitz offers for "Clerical Life," ii. [52];
  • offers £100 for German reprint of "Adam Bede," [115].
• Taylor, Isaac, influence of, i. [51].
• Taylor, Mrs. Peter, i. [196];
  • sympathy with, [197];
  • letters to, [218], [219];
  • generous letter from, with reply, [293], [294];
  • on her domestic position, ii. [213], [214];
  • letter to, on Christmas at Weybridge, iii. [159];
  • on difficulties of note writing, [181];
  • on the Lewes Studentship, [273].
• Taylor, Professor Tom, i. [201].
• Tenby, zoological delights, i. [293];
  • St. Catherine's Rock, [295];
  • work done here, [295];
  • Mr. Pigott's visit, [296];
  • leave and return to Richmond, [297].
• Tennyson, appreciation of, iii. [229].
• "Terror" in religious education, iii. [48].
• Thackeray, Miss, "The Story of Elizabeth," ii. [299];
  • her marriage, iii. [225].
• Thackeray's "Esmond," i. [214];
  • opinion of "Gilfil's Love-Story," [323];
  • favorable opinion of "Clerical Life," ii. [10].
• "The Impressions of Theophrastus Such," MS. sent to publishers, iii. [245];
  • publication postponed, [252];
  • third edition about sold out, [268].
• Theism, objection to, i. [339], [340].
• Thirlwall, Bishop, story of, iii. [228].
• Thompson, Master of Trinity College, Cambridge, iii. [149].
• Thorns in actual fame, ii. [90].
• Thorwaldsen's Christ scourged, i. [126].
• "Thoughts in Aid of Faith," by Miss Hennell, ii. [186], [188], [195];
  • favorable view of, by Miss Nightingale and Miss Julia Smith, [190].
• "Thoughts in Aid of Faith," ii. [73].
• Thoughts on death, iii. [100];
  • on early death, ii. [290].
• Tichborne trial, the, iii. [106];
  • Coleridge's address, [107].
• Times reviews "Adam Bede," ii. [73];
  • letter to, denying Liggin's authorship, [74].
• Titian's paintings, ii. [43], [45].
• "Too good to be true," i. [140].
• Torquay, visit to, iii. [25].
• Toulon to Nice, drive from, ii. [216], [217].
• Town life, depression of, ii. [203].
• Tragedy, notes on, iii. [32].
• Translator's difficulties, a, i. [99].
• Traunstein, our fellow-travellers at, ii. [35].
• Trèves, a visit to, iii. [122].
• Trollope, Anthony, his "Orley Farm," delightful letter from, ii. [246].
• Truth, desire for, i. [77].
• Truth of feeling a bond of union, i. [88].
• Tryan, Rev. Mr., an ideal character, i. [332].
• Tulloch, Principal, his "Pascal," iii. [235].
• Turguenieff, M., iii. [209].
• Turin: Count Cavour, ii. [122];
  • Prince de Carignan, [122].
• Tylor's "Primitive Culture," iii. [118].
• Tyndall, Professor, "On the Constitution of the Universe," ii. [299].

• University and public school education, iii. [309].
• Use of irregular verses, iii. [40].
• "Utopias," poem on, ii. [286].

• Venice: the Grand Canal by moonlight, ii. [172];
  • San Marco and Doge's Palace, [173];
  • pictures in the palace, [173];
  • interior of St. Mark's, [174];
  • "Death of Peter the Martyr," [175];
  • the Scuola di San Rocco, [176];
  • Tintoretto and Titian, [176];
  • Giovanni Bellini and Palma Vecchio, [177];
  • sunset on the Lagoon, [177];
  • Piazza of San Marco, [178];
  • a remarkable picture, [178].
• Verona, the church of San Zenone, ii. [179];
  • the tombs of the Scaligers, [179].
• Veronese, his "Finding of Moses," etc., ii. [44].
• Via Mala, its grand scenery, ii. [182].
• Vienna: Belvedere pictures, ii. [39];
  • the Liechtenstein collection, [39];
  • Hyrtl, the anatomist, [39];
  • journey to Prague, [40].
• "Villette," i. [220].
• Vision of others' needs, iii. [177].
• Vision-seeing subjective, iii. [116].
• "Visiting my Relations," a volume of poetry from the authoress of, ii. [97].

• Wales, visit to, iii. [189].
• Wallace's "Eastern Archipelago," iii. [118].
• Wallington, Miss, her school at Nuneaton, i. [15].
• Walt Whitman, motto from, iii. [200].
• Wandsworth, takes new house at, ii. [59].
• Warwickshire magistrate, correspondence with, ii. [97].
• "Waverley," writes out, i. [16].
• Weimar recollections: interview with Strauss, i. [240];
  • the Dichter Zimmer, [240];
  • Scholl, [240];
  • excursion to Ettersburg, [241];
  • Arthur Helps, [242];
  • Goethe's beech, [242];
  • expedition to Ilmenau, [242];
  • Wagner's operas, [243];
  • "Der Freischütz," [243];
  • Schiller's house, [244];
  • Goethe's house, [244];
    • his study, [245];
  • the Gartenhaus, [246];
  • the Webicht, [247];
  • Marquis de Ferrière, [247];
  • Liszt on Spontoni, [248];
  • breakfast with, [249];
  • his playing, [250];
  • his trophies, [250];
  • our expenses, [251];
  • work at and books read, [268-271];
  • wrote article on "Madame de Sablé," [268];
  • remarks on books read, [269-271];
  • return to England, [271].
• Westminster, the, on "Essays and Reviews," ii. [200].
• Westminster Review, assistant editor of, i. [186];
  • heavy work, [193];
  • its difficulties, [227];
  • wishes to give up editorship, [229].
• Westminster reviewers, i. [199], [200], [205], [210].
• Weybridge, Christmas visit to, iii. [71], [140], [159].
• Wharton's "Summary of the Laws relating to Women," i. [220].
• Whitby, visit to, iii. [85].
• Wicksteed's review of Strauss's translation in "Prospective," i. [109].
• Wilberforce, emulation of, i. [31].
• Wildbad to Brussels, iii. [295].
• Will, power of the, iii. [179].
• Wilson, Andrew, the "Abode of Snow," iii. [190].
• Witley, house bought at, iii. [215];
  • life at, [240];
  • Sunday receptions, [241].
• Wolseley, Sir Garnet, iii. [198].
• Woman's duty, yearning for a, i. [173];
  • earnings, [282];
  • full experience, iii. [63];
  • constancy, on, [92], [93].
• Womanhood, her ideal of, iii. [308].
• Women's Colleges, iii. [309].
• Woolwich Arsenal, a visit to, iii. [176].
• Wordsworth's Poems, i. [45].
• Wordsworth's Thoughts on Humanity, iii. [280].
• Work at Weimar and Berlin, i. [268].
• World of light and speech, iii. [185].
• Writing under difficulties, ii. [307].

• Young, discontent of the, iii. [213].
• Young Englandism, no sympathy with, i. [124].
• Young men, desire to influence, iii. [18].
• Yorkshire, visit to, iii. [41].

• Zoological Gardens, pleasure in, ii. [209];
  • friendship with the Shoebill, [209].

THE END.

---

GEORGE ELIOT'S WORKS.

LIBRARY EDITION.

ADAM BEDE. Illustrated. 12mo, Cloth, $1 25.

DANIEL DERONDA. 2 vols., 12mo, Cloth, $2 50.

ESSAYS and LEAVES FROM A NOTE-BOOK. 12mo, Cloth, $1 25.

FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. Illustrated. 12mo, Cloth, $1 25.

MIDDLEMARCH. 2 vols., 12mo, Cloth, $2 50.

ROMOLA. Illustrated. 12mo, Cloth, $1 25.

SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE, and SILAS MARNER. Illustrated. 12mo, Cloth, $1 25.

THE IMPRESSIONS OF THEOPHRASTUS SUCH. 12mo, Cloth, $1 25.

THE MILL ON THE FLOSS. Illustrated. 12mo, Cloth, $1 25.

---

POPULAR EDITION.

ADAM BEDE. Illustrated. 12mo, Cloth, 75 cents.

DANIEL DERONDA. 2 vols., 12mo, Cloth, $1 50.

ESSAYS and LEAVES FROM A NOTE-BOOK. 12mo, Cloth, 75 cents.

FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. Illustrated. 12mo, Cloth, 75 cents.

MIDDLEMARCH. 2 vols., 12mo, Cloth, $1 50.

ROMOLA. Illustrated. 12mo, Cloth, 75 cents.

SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE, and SILAS MARNER. Illustrated. 12mo, Cloth, 75 cents.

THE IMPRESSIONS OF THEOPHRASTUS SUCH. 12mo, Cloth, 75 cents.

THE MILL ON THE FLOSS. 12mo, Cloth, 75 cents.

---

CHEAPER EDITIONS.

BROTHER JACOB.—THE LIFTED VEIL. 32mo, Paper, 20 cents.

DANIEL DERONDA. 8vo, Paper, 50 cents.

ESSAYS and LEAVES FROM A NOTE-BOOK. 4to, Paper.

FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. 8vo, Paper, 50 cents.

JANET'S REPENTANCE. 32mo, Paper, 20 cents.

MIDDLEMARCH. 8vo, Paper, 75 cents.

MR. GILFIL'S LOVE STORY. 32mo, Paper, 20 cents.

ROMOLA. Ill'd. 8vo, Paper, 50 cents.

SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE. 8vo, Paper, 50 cents.

THE IMPRESSIONS OF THEOPHRASTUS SUCH. 4to, Paper, 10 cents.

THE MILL ON THE FLOSS. 8vo, Paper, 50 cents.

THE SAD FORTUNES OF THE REV. AMOS BARTON. 32mo, Paper, 20 cts.

---

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.

☞Harper & Brothers will send any of the above works by mail, postage prepaid, to any part of the United States or Canada, on receipt of the price.

---

FOOTNOTES:

[1] "An Old Story and Other Poems," by Elizabeth D. Cross.

[2] "Address to the Working Men."

[3] In the "Address to the Working Men."

[4] Visit to Mr. W. G. Clark.

[5] Of Comte.

[6] Dr. Congreve's article, "Mr. Huxley on M. Comte," in Fortnightly Review, April, 1869.

[7] See ante, vol. i. [p. 220].

[8] Professor Edmund Spenser Beesley, a well-known member of the Positivist body, who married Miss Crompton, daughter of Mr. Justice Crompton.

[9] An article by Mr. Frederic Harrison in the Fortnightly Review of November, 1869.

[10] Portrait of Charles Hennell.

[11] Written after the death of Lord Clarendon, who, Lady Lytton tells me, had been like a father to her.

[12] "Armgart."

[13] Miss Octavia Hill. Walmer Street Industrial Experiment, tried by Canon Fremantle under Miss Hill's supervision.

[14] Scott Commemoration.

[15] Written just before the death of Mrs. Lytton's eldest boy.

[16] "Marie of Villefranche." Macmillan's Magazine, August, 1871.

[17] The collector of "The Wise, Witty, and Tender Sayings of George Eliot."

[18] Mr. W. H. Bullock—changed his name to Hall.

[19] The Six-Mile Bottom shooting had been let to H. R. H. that year.

[20] A site offered near Shere, in Surrey.

[21] Death of Mrs. Cross's sister of cholera, at Salzburg.

[22] See ante, p. 66.

[23] "Paul Bradley."

[24] A vase with paintings from "Romola" on tiles.

[25]

"Tristi fummo
Nell'aer dolce che dal sol s'allegra."

Inferno, cant. vii. 121, 122.

[26] Bessborough Gardens.

[27] I had been abroad for six weeks.

[28] This was a visit to Six-Mile Bottom, where M. Turguenieff, who was a very highly valued friend of Mr. and Mrs. Lewes, had come to compare his experiences of Russian and English sport. I remember George Eliot telling me that she had never met any literary man whose society she enjoyed so thoroughly and so unrestrainedly as she did that of M. Turguenieff. They had innumerable bonds of sympathy.

[29] This letter is in acknowledgment of a letter from Mrs. Beecher Stowe on "Daniel Deronda."

[30] Mme. Bodichon had been dangerously ill.

[31] Refers to a poem by W. Allingham, "The General Chorus," with a burden:

"Life, Death; Life, Death;
Such is the song of human breath."

[32] The beginning of my mother's last illness.

[33] Dinner at Mr. Goschen's.

[34] "The Impressions of Theophrastus Such."

[35] Madame Belloc.

[36] Mrs. Charles Lewes.

[37] "The Ethics of George Eliot's Works," by J. C. Brown. Blackwood: 1879.

[38] Article on G. H. Lewes.—New Quarterly Review, Oct. 1879.

[39] "George Henry Lewes Studentship."—This studentship has been founded in memory of Mr. George Henry Lewes, for the purpose of enabling the holder for the time being to devote himself wholly to the prosecution of original research in physiology. The studentship, the value of which is slightly under £200 per annum, paid quarterly in advance, is tenable for three years, during which time the student is required to carry on, under the guidance of a director, physiological investigations, to the complete exclusion of all other professional occupations. No person will be elected as a "George Henry Lewes Student" who does not satisfy the trustees and director, first, as to the promise of success in physiological inquiry; and, second, as to the need of pecuniary assistance. Otherwise all persons of both sexes are eligible. Applications, together with such information concerning ability and circumstances as the candidate may think proper, should be sent to the present director, Dr. Michael Foster, New Museums, Cambridge, not later than October 15, 1879. The appointment will be made and duly advertised as soon as possible after that date.

[40] Mr. John Blackwood died on 29th October, 1879.

[41] Madame Belloc.

[42] Mrs. Hall.

[43] Mrs. Isaac Evans (since deceased).

[44] Rev. Frederick Evans, Rector of Bedworth.

[45] Madame Belloc.

[46] Mr. Geddes's death.

[47] Now Sir Andrew Clark.

Transcriber's Notes

Obvious typographical errors were repaired.

Duplicate sidenotes (repeated at the top of continuation pages) were deleted.

[P. 259] sidenote (22d April, retained) and p. 260 continuation sidenote (23d April, deleted) disagree.

[P. 224], "disbelief in my own {^duty⁄_right}"—original shows "duty" immediately above "right" with large curly braces surrounding both.