Memphis daily appeal. [volume] (Memphis, Tenn.) 1847-1886, 1878-08-04
GEORGE ELIOT,
Ehc Great Novelist, at her Home
Pleasing Picture OF her DOme--
tic Life How she Enter
tanned Charles Warren
<tOddard.

San Francisco Chronicle. i was Sunday at
he pai1ry, North Bank, at the west END OF
')wn. There was a garden wall OF uncom-
mon hight, massive gate-clOsed, as
usual. on ore side OF the gate, IN
suall letters, was a legend. On the
ether side were two bell-pulls for
servants and visitors. Above the wall the
upper half OF the top windows of the prlory
were Just visible. | rang the visitors bell
and waited. The gate was unlocked mystic
riousy. / heard no iootstep upon the gravel
walk within, but the bolt slid back and the
gate swung partly open through no visible
agency. entered. At the further end OF
he walk, on the steps before the main en-
trance to the priory, stood a maid patiently
awaiting my approach. Green lawns spread
about the dark walls OF a house that looked
as If II might easily at some earlier period
have been the abode of a religious order.
The foliage was not dense, but sufficient TO
embellsh the place. There was d noticea-
ble lack of all supeItiuous ornamentatIon.
The priory was evidently an English home.
the center of domestic tranquility. The maid
disappeared with my card. was left in a
broad nall, the walls Of which were lined
with books, mostly stored on shelves Just high
enough to be serviceable; a few pictures hung
above them; a few terra Gotta casts; NINA
ture reproduct, ,Cs OF the antique, graced the
apartment. E1tec the professor, u slender.
LeryOns, scholarly looking gentleman, who
greeted me as cordially a. It ! had been an
old friend OF the family. He led me at once
into the long drawing room, at that moment
occupied by the host and one guest
My dear, said the author of The HiStO-
~ Of PhiLOsOyhy, d Life Of Goethe, RIM
thOrp, etc, here Is Mr.. StOddard. | was led
to an oldfashioned sofa at one end of The
room, some distance from the wall. Ny. band
haII h,r d. "a Tola
est possible attire, who is thus vaguely de-
scrlbed in Routledges Men Of the Time
George Eliot said to be the daughter of q
Clergyman, born about 1920 Somewhat to
my surprise, found her intensely feminine.
Her slight fgure-It might almost be called
diIninutive-her geHtle, persuasive ar, her
constrained gestIculatlOn, the low, sweet
voice-all were as far removed from the re-
pulsive phenomenon, tn man woman, as
1t Is possible to conceive. The brow also
seemed to betray her intellectual superiority;
her face reminded me somewhat of the por
trait of Charlotte Bronte, that every one Is
familiar with Yet there was no striking
similarity; ! should rather say, the types OF
face and head are the same. When she crossed
the room to call attention to a volume under
discussion, she seemed almost like an invalid,
and evidenced also an jnvalids indifference
to fashion and frivolity in dress. The guest,
who sat careless, cross wise IN his chair, was
EDWARD BUr0e- Jones, lne pE6TdpDdellIe ar
tlst to whom Swinburne dedicates LduS Yen
eriS, and to whom lie sings:
"ThO8gh the world of Jour hands be more gracious
And lOyelier in lOrdshlp Of things,
Clothed round by sweet art with the spacious
Let them enter, unfiedged and nigh falnting,
For the love OF old loves aud lost times,
And receive in your palace OF painting
This revel OF rhymes"
Burne-Jones had evidently not arrayed
himself for the occasion. He wore a merno
shirt, collar and cuffs as blue as indigo; artist
jacket, and general every day air that Dor
dered on affectaton.
The conversation which | had interrupted
was soon renewed, and it was better than a
thousand books to hear the riches that these
souls lavished upon one another. Art, phi
lOsophy the music of Wagner, Rome ancient
and Rome modern, Florence-how they all
love Florence and how they detest mordern
Rome. Ali English people seem to inherit
the love of Florence. The conversation was
presently Interrupted. Some one entered,
and, having said his opening lines, withdrew
to a chair and subsidized. The artist departed:
the artistic atmosphere grew thinner and
thinner; the three that mad been discoursing
like prophets upon a mountain top came
down out of the high places, and il was dis
covered that, after all, they were only little
more than ordinary when taken off their
guard. Prof. Lewes was the life of the
circle, which increased as the reception hours
drew to a close Mrs Lewes was always the
same placid, self poised, kind hearted, wo
manly soul, who suffered no one present to
feel neglected, for she took care to call the
forlorn ones to her and distinguish them for
a moment at least. Perhaps it isN>half true,
the strange story that heard in all its vari-
ations, for there were those present who sat
transfxed and gazed rapturously upon the
creator of "Romla" and Adam Bede"
Iai,l c,,o INF
hearts. They will spring up, blossom and
bear fruit, but not in this paper.
1t is said that there are notebook that go
regularly to the priory and gorge themselves
with wisdom. 1t is said that the professor
has dipped his pen into the pages Of Daniel
DerOHdG. | know nothing of this. | can
speak for the h0mely home that seemed al
most bare, and for the homely hospitality
than which nothing can be less pretentious;
and If | had doubted myself up 10 date the
exquisite charm of the hostess, as she de-
tanned me to renew an invitation which was
10 embrace the season-each Sunday alter
noon from half-past two to five o'clock-was
sufficient to dismiss me in the best of humors.
| shall never forget the absolute repose of
Mrs. Lewes, the elaboration with which she
discussed the affairs of life, speaking always
as if she were revealing only about tenth
part OF her knowledge upon the subject in
question With her 1t seemed as if the tides
had all come IN; as if she had weathered the
ultimate storm; as if Circumstance and not
desile had swept her apart from her kind and
left her isolated, tde unrlvaled mistress of all
passionless experience. The professor accom-
panied me to the door, offering me cigar of
the very best brand. People, mild eyed ladies
with severely correct escorts, followed us,
still dazed with the delicious awfulness of
their interview; a young woman, without es
cort, stalked solemnly up the gravel path,
gurgled at the threshold, and passed into the
presence OF the high priestess. The professor
shook me warmly by the hand and whis-
pered That is Miss -" but failed to
catch the name. | smiled knowingly, turned
on my heel, and it was all over.
PARIS IN RRTEE