Introduction

Robert Evans, father of Mary Ann, the future George Eliot, himself  possessed of brains that had enabled him to rise above his circumstances, recognised and nurtured that same intelligence in his daughter. Like many fathers before and after him, he found out that a girl with brains is apt to think for herself. Mary Ann found out that thinking for oneself – especially as a girl in a man’s world – brings trouble. But she also found congenial, freethinking friends on the road that eventually took her to London. Mary Ann was left behind: she emerged as Marian Evans, brilliant journalist and in fact, if not in name, editor of the intellectual Westminster Review. George Henry Lewes, married to Agnes Jervis, found out, like many a husband before and after him, that a ’free marriage’ works better in theory than in practice. When his wife started having children with his friend and colleague Thornton Hunt, he generously registered the first and second as his own. By doing so, he forfeited the possibility of getting a divorce. It did not matter to him. In 1851, and in the same month he registered the second child, he first met Marian Evans. Soon it did matter. But now it was too late. Sometime between this first meeting and the 20th of July, 1854, the two had become lovers. On this day, they left London together, on a journey to Germany where Lewes intended to collect material for his projected biography of Goethe. This step put Marian Evans, not legally his wife, in a most precarious situation. Neither of them could foresee that their life together was to end only with his death, and her notes and writings at the time not only register her intense happiness with Lewes, but also her doubts and fears. We can sense this anxiety in the entry in her diary on the day she left London: »July 20th 1854 – I said a last farewell to Cambridge street this morning and found myself on board the Ravensbourne, bound for Antwerp about 1/2 an hour earlier than a sensible person would have been aboard, and in consequence I had 20 minutes of terrible fear lest something should have delayed G. But before long I saw his welcome face looking for me over the porter’s head, and all was well.«



Introduction enhanced with illustrations: read by Phil New and Susanne Monnerjahn.
Reproduction of Nuneaton postcard by kind permission of  Nuneaton Local History Group.

Arrival at Weimar

It was between three and four o’clock on a fine morning in August, that after a ten hours’ journey from Frankfort, I awoke at the Weimar station. No tipsiness can be more dead to all appeals than that which comes from fitful draughts of sleep on a railway journey by night. To the disgust of your wakeful companions, you are totally insensible to the existence of your umbrella, and to the fact that your carpet-bag is stowed under your seat, or that you have borrowed books and tucked them behind the cushion. »What’s the odds, so long as one can sleep?« is your philosophic formula; and it is not until you have begun to shiver on the platform in the early morning air that you become alive to property and its duties, – that is, to the necessity of keeping a fast grip upon it. Such was my condition when I reached the station at Weimar.
– from: George Eliot, Three Months in Weimar



Audio comment by and with Bob Muscutt, with reading by Phil New from George Henry Lewes, The Life and works of Goethe.  Source of Goethe portraits: Goethezeitportal.

We see from the images below that a passport was issued to Miss Marian Evans on 11th July, 1854, and it has the number 13666. On the same day a passport was issued to Geo. Henry Lewes, with the consecutive number 13667. They set sail to the continent on 20th July. It is interesting that they used separate passports, although some of the passports in the lists are for two people, and with different surnames.




Reproduced by courtesy of the National Archives in accordance with Open Government Licence (OGL). Thanks to Judith Flanders for getting us on the right track, and to Joanna Blatchley for providing the images from the findmypast web site.

On 6th August, shortly after their arrival in Weimar, Marian wrote to John Chapman, who had been charged with forwarding her post: „I was delighted to see your writing on the back of the letter, which the Post Beamter (post office clerk), like a conscientious man, refused to give me because I had not my passport in my pocket, and when I at last did get it I opened it with all sorts of grateful, affectionate feelings towards you for having written to me so soon.“
Of course Chapman had written to the Poste Restante in Weimar, the forwarding address that Marian had given him before they left London. In those days the Weimar post office was housed in the hotel Russischer Hof so she had to walk about 15 minutes to her lodgings to collect the passport. After she and Lewes had settled in, both Chapman and Charles Bray sent her mail directly to the address in Kaufstraße, which Marian habitually wrote incorrectly as Kaufgasse. To keep her whereabouts as secret as possible, Bray also forwarded the mail from her beloved sister, Chrissey. Until 1857, when brother Isaac forbade the family members all contact with Marian, there was frequent correspondence between Marian and Chrissey, none of which has survived. It is almost as if they made a formal pact to destroy all the letters they exchanged. It is assumed Chrissey was kept in the dark about her sister’s other life, but we can’t be absolutely sure. It would have been difficult for Marian and Bray to evade all her inevitable questions. It is true that there is no evidence that Marian told Chrissey about her relationship with Lewes before she outed herself by letter to Isaac.  But then, there wouldn’t be, would there?
– comment by Bob Muscutt

Hotel zum Erbprinzen

… after a little difficulty we got some tolerable beds at the Erbprinz and slept away our fatigue by 9 o’clock.
– from George Eliot’s Journal



















Audio comment by Bob Muscutt and reading from George Eliot’s Journal, by Margot Erbslöh

We used to dine at the Erb-prinz for 10 groschen each, and a very good dinner we generally had.
– from George Eliot, Recollections of Weimar

shop window: Genuine Thuringian Meat and Sausages

I fancy raw ham and sausage are the basis of the national food with a copious substratum of Blaukraut, Sauerkraut and black bread. Sausage seems to the German what potatoes were to the Irish – the sine quâ non of bodily sustenance.
– from George Eliot, Recollections of Weimar





Reading by Margot Erbslöh, from George Eliot, ’Recollections of Weimar’, enhanced with vignettes from the famous Henriette Davidis Cookery Book – the German equivalent to Isabella Beeton’s.

Reading from letter by Robert Scott Tait to George Combe, by and with Phil New.

  

Kaufstraße

Our lodgings at Weimar were amusing. The sitting room was something like a room cut in a wall, (…) long and narrow, with four windows along one side of it.
– from George Eliot, Recollections of Weimar


 Audio Comment by and with Bob Muscutt

Memorial Plaque at Kaufstraße

In 2014, GEF member Bob Muscutt, with the support of the George Eliot Fellowship, had a plaque put on the house now occupying the site of their lodging in Kaufstraße. It says:

This is the site of the house where

George Henry Lewes (1817-1878), 

first biographer of Goethe, and author 

George Eliot (1819-1880) 

stayed in the year of 1854. 

They promoted Weimar 

and German culture in Great Britain.

Our landlady Frau Münderloh was a Weimarian of the Weimarians  (…) The landlady’s husband was called the »süsser Münderloh« (sweet Münderloh) by way of distinction from a brother of his who was the reverse of sweet. This Münderloh who was not sweet – but who nevertheless dealt in sweets – in other words was a confectioner, was so utter a rogue that any transaction with him was dreaded almost as if he had been the devil himself, and so clever a rogue that he always managed to keep on the windy side of the law.

– from George Eliot, Recollections of Weimar


Extended reading from George Eliot, Recollections of Weimar, by and with Trish Osmond.

Audio comment by and with Bob Musctutt and reading from letter by Robert Scott Tait to George Combe by and with Phil New.

The Goethe Haus

Goethe’s house is much more important looking, but to English eyes far from being the palatial residence which some German writers think it. The entrance hall is certainly very imposing, with its statues in niches and broad stair-case. The latter was made after his own design and was an aftershine of Italian tastes. (…) G. had obtained permission from Frau von Goethe to see the Studier- and Schlafzimmer (study and bedroom) which are not open to the public, and here our feelings were deeply moved. 

– from George Eliot, Recollections of Weimar

 Audio Comment by Bob Muscutt

The bedroom is very small. By the side of the bed stands a stuffed arm chair where he used to sit and read while he drank his coffee in the morning. It was not until very late in his life that he adopted this luxury of an arm-chair. (…) Among such memorials one breathes deeply and the tears rush to one’s eyes.
– from George Eliot, Recollections of Weimar



Extended reading from George Eliot, Recollections of Weimar, by Margot Erbslöh and Susanne Monnerjahn.

The Schiller Haus

When we passed the Schillerstraße, I used to be very much thrilled by the inscription "Hier wohnte Schiller" (Here Schiller lived), over the door of his small house. Very interesting it is to see his study, which is happily left in its original state.
– from George Eliot, Recollections of Weimar

 Audio Comment by Bob Muscutt

Extended reading from George Eliot, Recollections of Weimar, by Phil New.

Theatre with Goethe-Schiller-Denkmal

 Audio Comment by Bob Muscutt

The Stern, a large circular opening among the trees (i.e., in the Park on the Ilm), with walks radiating from it, has been thought of a as a place for the projected statues of Goethe and Schiller. In Rauch’s model for these statues the poets are draped in togas, Goethe, who was considerably the shorter of the two, resting his hand on Schiler’s shoulder; but it has been wisely determined to represent them in their ’habit as they lived’, so Rauch’s design is rejected.
– from George Eliot, Three Months in Weimar

About the middle of September, the theatre opened and we went to hear Ernani. Liszt looked splendid as he conducted the opera the music – the grand outline of his face and floating hair were seen to advantage as they were thrown into dark relief by the stage lamps. The Weimar theatre is very pretty and commodious.
– from George Eliot, Recollections of Weimar



Extended reading from George Eliot, Three Months in Weimar/Recollections of Weimar, by Margot Erbslöh.

The Stadtschloß

From a walk in the morning (…) we saw that Weimar was more like a market town than the precinct of a court. And this is the ’Athens of the north’, we said. Materially speaking, it is more like Sparta. (…) One’s first feeling is: How could Goethe live here, in this dull, lifeless village? (…) We soon had our impression modified when in the evening we found our way to the Belvedere Chaussée, that splendid avenue of chestnut trees – when we saw the Schloss and discovered the labyrinthine beauties of the Park (…).
– from George Eliot, Recollections of Weimar

Extended reading from George Eliot, Recollections of Weimar/Three Months in Weimar, by Trish Osmond.

The Altenburg

About 1/2 past 10 Liszt called, and after chatting pleasantly for some time invited us to go and breakfast at his house, the Altenburg. (…) On arriving at the Altenburg we were shewn into a garden, where in a saloon formed by overarching trees the déjeuner was set out.
– from George Eliot’s Journal


Audio comment by Bob Muscutt, read by Bob and Andrew Charlwood. 

 Audio Comment by Bob Muscutt 

Then came the thing I had longed for – Liszt’s playing. I sat near him so that I could see both his hands and face. For the first time in my life I beheld real inspiration – for the first time I heard the true tones of the piano. He played one of his own compositions – one of a series of religious fantaisies. There was nothing strange or excessive about is manner. His manipulation of the instrument was quiet and easy, and his face was simply grand – the lips compressed and the head thrown a little backward. When the music expressed quiet rapture or devotion a sweet smile flitted over his features; when it was triumphant the nostrils dilated.
– from George Eliot’s Journal



Extended reading from George Eliot’s Journal by and with Phil New and Susanne Monnerjahn.

Liszt, Etude Transcendentales No.9, Ricordanza
on archive.org

I knew George Eliot and her husband very well... and they were a remarkably ugly couple. Mr. Lewis, the author of ‘The Life of Goethe’, called on me first, telling me, in the course of the conversation, that he was at Weimar with Miss Evans, the translator of ‘The Life of Jesus’, by Strauß; but that he did not know whether he could present himself with her, as they were living together in a manner inadmissible in society.
– from Franz Liszt, Recollections of a Compatriot



Extended reading from Franz Liszt, Recollections of a Compatriot, by and with Phil New.

The Ilm Park with Goethe’s Garden House

If you care nothing at all about Goethe, Schiller and Herder, why, so much the worse for you – you will miss many interesting thoughts and associations; but still, Weimar has a charm independent of these great names. First among all its attractions is the Park, which would be remarkably beautiful even among English parks and which has one advantage over them all, namely that it is entirely without a fence. It runs up to the houses and far out into the corn-fields and meadows as if it had a »sweet will« of its own, like a river or a lake, and was not planned and planted by human will.
– from George Eliot, Recollections of Weimar 

Audio Comment by Bob Muscutt

Extended reading from George Eliot, Recollections of Weimar, by and with Margot Erbslöh.

 

One day early in July, 1788, Goethe, walking in the much-loved park, was accosted by a fresh, young, bright-looking girl, who, with many reverences, handed him a petition (…), which entreated the great poet to exert his influence to procure a post for a young author (…). This young author was Vulpius (…), he was the brother to that Christiane who handed the petition to Goethe, and who thus took the first step on the path which led to their marriage.
– from George Henry Lewes, The Life of Goethe

Extended reading from George Henry Lewes, The Life of Goethe, by Margot Erbslöh.

 

Sometimes we took our shady walk in the Stern, the oldest part of the Park plantations, on the opposite side of the river, lingering on our way to watch the crystal brook which hurries on, like a foolish young maiden, to wed itself with the muddy Ilm.
– from George Eliot, Three Months in Weimar

In the warm weather of our first month’s stay at Weimar our great delight was the walk which follows the course of the Ilm and is overarched by tall trees with patches of dark moss on their trunks in rich contrast with the transparent green of the delicate leaves through which the golden sunlight played and chequered the path before us.
– from George Eliot, Recollections of Weimar

Extended reading from George Eliot, Recollections of Weimar, by Trish Osmond.

Equally interesting is the Garten House, which we used to see almost every day in our walks. Within, it is a not uncomfortable homely sort of cottage (…). Outside, its aspect became to us like that of a dear friend whose irregular features and rusty clothes have a peculiar charm. It stands on a pleasant slope fronting the west, and there is a charming bit of garden and orchard attached to it.
– from George Eliot, Recollections of Weimar

The Garden House – Guest Book

We are very pleased to publish for the very first time the entry made by Marian and George in the guest book of the Goethe Garden House. Notice that she signs herself with her real name, which everyone in Weimar knew her by. Many thanks to Dr. Ulrike Müller-Harang, a former researcher at the Goethe-Schiller Archives, for locating and recognizing the significance of this document. We are also indebted to the Landesarchiv Thüringen for their kind permission to publish it on our blog.

LATh – HStA, Weimar Hofmarschallamt Nr. 2079, Bl. 69v

The Belvedere Schloß

A favourite resort of ours, as of all the inhabitants of Weimar, was Belvedere, one of the Duke’s summer residences about 2 miles from Weimar. A chaussée bordered by noble chestnut trees leads to the entrance of the grounds which are open to all the world as much as to the Duke himself.
– from George Eliot, Recollections of Weimar

 Audio Comment by Bob Muscutt





Reading from George Eliot, Recollections of Weimar, 
and George Henry Lewes, Letter to his son, by and with Phil.

The Ettersburg

Audio Comment by Bob Muscutt.

About ten days after our arrival we made an excursion to Ettersburg, one of the Duke’s summer residences. ... The morning was one of the brightest and hottest that August ever bestowed ...We talked cheerily as usual, and at last rested from our broiling walk on the borders of a glorious pine wood – a wood so extensive that the trees in the distance form a complete wall with their trunks, and so give one a twilight which is very welcome on a hot summer’s day. The ground under the trees is completely covered with soft moss so that one hears no sound of footsteps. ... At length, after a rest in the wood, we came to the open park in front of the Schloss.
– from George Eliot, Recollections of Weimar


Extended reading from George Eliot, Recollections of Weimar, by Susanne Monnerjahn.

Schloss

The Tiefurt Schloß

We (…) saw the queer little Schloss, which used to be Amalia’s residence (…). The walls of every room are crowded with engravings, and the tables with rococo wares. There is a suite of rooms which are so small that the largest of them does not take up as much space as a good dining table, and each of these small rooms is crowded with prints, old china, and all sorts of knick-knacks.
– from George Eliot, Recollections of Weimar

Comment by Bob Muscutt read by Andrew Charlwood; 
extended reading from George Eliot, Recollections of Weimar, by and with Margot Erbslöh.

Bad Berka

Another delightful place to which we often walked was Bercka (sic), a little village, with baths and a Kur-Haus seated in a lovely valley about six miles from Weimar. The first time G. went I was obliged to stay at home and work, and when he came back he merely said that the place and the walk to it were pretty, and brought me a bunch of berries from the mountain ash as a proof that he had thought of me by the way. He wished to ménager (prepare) a surprize for me by the moderation of his praise and he succeeded, for I was enchanted with the first sight of this little paradise and half inclined to be angry with G. for having been able to restrain the expression of his admiration. The hanging woods, the soft colouring and graceful lines of the upland, the village roofs and spire all of a reddish violet but which harmonized beautifully with the foliage, the shady walks by the side of a wood-covered hill the little avenue of stately poplars in agreeable contrast with the other trees, the winding stream and the bright green meadows through which it flowed made an enchanting scene.
– from George Eliot, Recollections of Weimar

Extended reading from George Eliot, Recollections of Weimar, by and with Trish Osmond.

The Kickelhahn Hut

Audio comment by Bob Muscutt, 
reading of poem in German by Karl-Heinz Mauermann.

Our greatest expedition from Weimar was to Ilmenau, in which we felt an interest on Goethe’s account, apart from the reported beauty of the country. (…) (…W)e set out with a determination to find the Gabel-bach (forked brook) and Kickel-hahn (Goethe’s rustic hut) without the incumbrance of a guide. Our walk was glorious along a road bordered by lofty pines. At last we reached a fine spot on the summit of a hill, where a house was being built. We had some suspicion that this might be the Gabelbach, but in our uncertainty still went on through the drizzling rain which now came on, admiring the grand openings here and there which showed pine clad hills rising above each other like wave upon wave. At last we met a waggon, and on asking the driver where the Gabel-bach was he told us we had already passed it. So we turned back, and found near the unfinished house, the man who inhabits the simple wooden house which used to be Carl August’s Hunting box. He sent a man on to shew us the way to the Kickel-hahn, which we at last reached – I with weary legs. There is a magnificent view of hills from this spot, but Goethe’s tiny wooden house is now closely shut in by fir-trees, and nothing can be seen from the windows. His room, which forms the upper floor of the house is about 10 or 12 feet square. It is now quite empty, but there is an interesting memorial of his presence in these wonderful lines written by his own hand near the window frame:

Über allen Gipfeln
Ist Ruh’,
In allen Wipfeln
Spürest Du
Kaum einen Hauch;
Die Vögelein schweigen im Walde.
Warte nur! Balde
Ruhest du auch. 

Over all the mountain peaks is quiet; in the treetops you trace scarcely a breath; the little birds are silent in the woods. Wait now, soon you will rest also.
– from George Eliot, Recollections of Weimar



Extended reading from George Eiot, Recollections of Weimar, 
by and with Margot Erbslöh.

Leaving Weimar

The morning had been sombre and bitterly cold from the beginning, and now it began to rain heavily. The train soon came up – we rushed under an umbrella into our carriage, and so on the 4th of November after a stay of just three months, we turned our backs on Weimar.
– from George Eliot, Recollections of Weimar

Extended reading from George Eliot, Recollections of Weimar, 
by Phil New and Susanne Monnerjahn.