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- 1. Thomas Hardy’s Far from the Madding Crowd
Hinweis der Redaktion
- Adam Bede, 1859 The Mill on the Floss, 1860 Silas Marner, 1861 Romola, 1863 Felix Holt, the Radical, 1866 Middlemarch, 1871-72 Daniel Deronda, 1876
- Adam Bede, 1859 The Mill on the Floss, 1860 Silas Marner, 1861 Romola, 1863 Felix Holt, the Radical, 1866 Middlemarch, 1871-72 Daniel Deronda, 1876
- “ The Spanish Gypsy” (a dramatic poem) 1868 “ Agatha” 1869 “ Armgart” 1871 “ Stradivarius” 1873 “ The Legend of Jubal” 1874 “ Arion” 1874 “ A Minor Prophet” 1874 “ A College Breakfast Party” 1879 “ The Death of Moses” 1879
- When she first conceived of the story of Silas Marner, George Eliot thought immediately of one of her favorite poets, William Wordsworth. He was the first to show country life realistically in poetry, as Eliot was the first in prose fiction. To some degree, Silas Marner is a typical Wordsworthian hero- a simple, instinctual creature, with limited education and imagination, whose life has a natural dignity. But a novel works differently from a poem, and Silas Marner is an unlikely hero for a novel. It isn't just that he's poor, although before George Eliot few authors cast working folk in major roles in novels. It isn't just that he's skinny and pale, with bulging brown eyes- physically unattractive heroes, like Shakespeare's Richard III or Cervantes' Don Quixote, can make powerful literary material. And it isn't just that he's a loner and an alien in Raveloe. Outsiders have made great heroes throughout literature, from Shakespeare's Othello to Emily Bronte's Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights to R. P. McMurphy in Kesey's One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. These, however, are charismatic, complex personalities. Silas Marner is not. Yet George Eliot gives this simple linen-weaver all the attention most authors save for their most glamorous characters. Some readers see Silas as a fairy-tale character, like the typical poor old woodcutter who endures poverty and misery in lonely silence for years. In this, he is also like a biblical character, Job. (Silas, however, loses his faith when he is unjustly punished, whereas Job heroically hangs on to his faith while God tests him with rounds of suffering.) Silas simply seems the plaything of some great force guiding the universe, whose plan is inscrutable and maybe even unfair. He's subject to mysterious fits that rob him of his senses for minutes at a time. He does nothing to deserve being expelled from his congregation or having his fiancee Sarah break off their engagement. He does nothing to deserve being robbed fifteen years later by Dunstan Cass. And he does nothing to deserve finding Eppie. These things simply happen to him, like spells or miracles, transforming his life. This storybook quality is suggested in the book's opening passage, which seems to describe a magical other world. Soon, however, Eliot shifts to a more realistic view. She explains, as an anthropologist might, how superstitious country folk are. She talks about the linen-weavers in sociological terms, as "emigrants from the town into the country." Then you first see Silas in his cottage, weaving away while village boys peer curiously in the windows. He doesn't need to be realistic, some readers argue. The point is that you are asked to fit this eccentric creature into a realistic social context. The villagers see him as a magical figure- they say he works for the devil- but this is a comment on their superstitiousness, not on Silas. As you read, consider how his skills- as a weaver or as a herb-healer- are regarded by the villagers. Watch how his grief over his robbery and his care of Eppie pull him into village life. Other readers place more emphasis on the passages where Eliot dissects Silas' psychological processes. She explains how he felt when he left Lantern-Yard, how he became a miser, how he reacts to the theft of his gold, how Eppie's presence heals him and draws him back into the mainstream of life. She gives you a medical reason for his fits and shows you how his poor vision often confuses him. In comparison to her analysis of Godfrey Cass' mind, of course, Silas' psychology seems rudimentary. But those who think Silas is realistic point out that Eliot is trying to portray a limited mind stunted by a poor education and a lifetime of ceaseless work. The debate over Silas' realism goes on and on. But one thing seems clear- Eliot is sympathetic toward him. She constantly shifts from his perspective to that of the community surrounding him and back again, to show how misunderstood he is. She reminds you that he once had a mother and a sister and a childhood. Silas doesn't act in grand sweeping gestures, but Eliot interprets the strong emotions lying behind his timid little actions. Thus, by the time he makes his meek, stammering appearance at the Rainbow to report his theft, you've already seen him go through an internal agony of disbelief and despair at home. Even though he quietly tells Eppie that she herself must choose between him and her real father, Godfrey, Eliot makes you feel how hard this is for Silas, how devastated he would be if he lost her. Though he is only a simple linen-weaver, she feels his story is worth telling.
- Godfrey is in many ways the direct opposite of Silas. He's young, handsome, well-off, and charming. The villagers admire him, even when they suspect he isn't acting right. Unlike Silas, who's alone in the world, Godfrey has too much family- a gruff father, a troublesome brother, a wife and child he doesn't want, and a sweetheart anxiously waiting for him to propose. Silas works hard, but Godfrey has no particular work to do. While Silas endures his exile from society, Godfrey is impatient and a moral coward. Whereas Silas is unjustly punished, time and again Godfrey manages to escape punishment, even for sins he has committed. Some readers, therefore, see Godfrey as the villain of this novel. His weakness sets Dunstan on a path that ends with Dunstan robbing Silas. While Silas is grieving over his lost gold, Godfrey is relieved because Dunstan has disappeared. He is relieved, too, when his wife Molly is found dead in the snow, because it clears the way for him to marry Nancy Lammeter. At the end of the book, Godfrey selfishly tries to take Eppie away from Silas. But he's finally punished, by Eppie's rejection, for having lied to the world for so many years. Yet other readers look beyond this formal structure, in which Godfrey plays a villain's role, to judge whether he is really a villainous person. In his first scene, they point out, he appears with his callous brother Dunstan, who makes Godfrey look sensitive and conscientious by comparison. Godfrey seems to know what is right, though he's often too weak to do it. When you see his home environment, you can understand Godfrey's lack of moral fiber. When Eliot traces the tiny mental steps by which he talks himself out of doing the right thing, the process is somehow easy to understand- hasn't everyone rationalized like this at times? His love for Nancy is genuine, and her love for him testifies to something good in his nature. Once they're married, he makes a fine husband, except for his disappointment over their childlessness (which he tries to hide from her). He does have fatherly feelings for Eppie, and he watches her grow up with a constant sense of regret. To these readers, Godfrey is a good but weak man whose fate embodies the moral of the novel. As you read, for example, the scene on New Year's Eve when Silas appears with the infant Eppie, imagine how other characters judge Godfrey. Just as Eliot gives you special sympathy for Silas, she gives you a special insider's view of Godfrey's weakness. You know his worst impulses- the side that most of us never show to the world. As you read, decide for yourself whether Godfrey is the villain or the tragic hero of this novel. For several chapters, you don't actually meet Nancy- you just hear of her as the girl Godfrey wants to marry. She's presented as the proper, socially respectable partner for him, as opposed to his secret wife Molly. Even crude Squire Cass approves of her. Considering what you are shown of the upperclass world she belongs to, how do you feel about Nancy before you meet her? When Nancy finally appears in Chapter 11, you may be in for a surprise. Eliot enters Nancy's thoughts, to show that she's a gentle, sensitive girl, insecure and confused about Godfrey's courtship. Then you see her through the eyes of the fashionable, town-bred Gunn sisters. They see that she is pretty, well-mannered, and neatly dressed. Nevertheless, she disapproves of their low-cut dresses, and they disapprove of her country dialect- she is clearly part of her country environment. You can see the signs of hard work on Nancy's hands. In general, Eliot describes Nancy's looks and character in glowing terms. Her only faults, Eliot tells you, are a touch of pride and inflexibility. Having a positive view of Nancy may make you feel more kindly toward the upper class in general (notice that the men at the Rainbow, too, speak well of the Lammeters). It may also give you more sympathy for Godfrey. She seems to be a good influence on him. On the other hand, are her moral standards too high? She keeps Godfrey at arm's length because she's heard bad rumors about him. Even after Molly has died and he is free to marry Nancy, Godfrey is reluctant to tell her about Molly because he fears her disapproval. Later, Nancy's strict code also keeps her from agreeing to adopt a child, which creates the only unhappiness in her marriage to Godfrey. As you read, consider: Is Nancy a good moral example or are her strict principles a flaw in her character?
- The opening of Silas Marner suggests a world of legend and myth- a pastoral countryside untouched by the modern world, where figures are larger than life. But gradually Eliot establishes that this story occurs in the first years of the nineteenth century, during the Napoleonic wars, when George III was King of England. This is slightly before Eliot's own childhood. It's also before the Reform Act of 1832, which many Englishmen felt marked the end of an era (as Americans today may regard the bombing of Hiroshima or the Vietnam War). It represented for her an age of innocence. The landscape is the farming country of the English Midlands where George Eliot grew up. The villagers of Raveloe live in isolation only because of their old-fashioned customs- they really aren't that far from the rest of civilization. Upperclass characters, such as the Casses, frequently travel to neighboring towns. In general, the two classes in Raveloe inhabit different worlds. The Rainbow pub is the center of the common folks' world, and Squire Cass' Red House is the center of the gentry's world. The Raveloe gentry are representatives of an ancient British social class- the "squirearchy," well-off rural landowners who wielded local political power and stood independent of the aristocracy. By Eliot's own time, this class had nearly been obliterated. Raveloe's class system is smoothly integrated, however. Upperclass men drink at the Rainbow, too, and villagers are invited to the Red House parties. They all hear the same gossip. Everyone meets at church. Silas Marner, in contrast, comes from a large industrial town, though he stayed within a smaller community there, his religious sect. While his hometown is a portrait of the "new" industrialized city of the nineteenth century, his sect is a portrait of the fanatical Evangelical or Puritan denominations that had challenged the established Church of England since the sixteenth century. (Eliot herself had briefly been influenced by Evangelicals.) The customs of such a place are totally different from those of Raveloe, so Silas is branded an alien. Therefore, he lives outside the village, in a cottage beside a dangerous, desolate stone-pit. After Eppie enters his life, however, a garden blooms around its walls, signifying the roots he has put down at last.
- Silas Marner is divided into Part One and Part Two, separated by sixteen years in time. The flashback in Chapter 1 travels an equal sixteen years in time, creating a fundamental symmetry (see diagram). Some readers have felt that the gap between the two parts is too long- they would like to watch Silas being transformed by his love for Eppie, not just be told about it. Yet in Chapter 14 Eliot does show the first stages of the process in detail, and in Chapter 16 she backtracks to fill in even more. This novel is divided into two parts in another, more important way. While Silas follows a cycle from misery back to happiness, Godfrey Cass follows an opposite path, from a life rich with possibilities to an unfulfilled existence. (See the diagram.) Eliot shifts back and forth between these two plots continually. Silas and Godfrey rarely meet face to face, yet they are linked- through Dunstan, who cheats Godfrey and robs Silas, and later through Eppie, whom Godfrey abandons and Silas adopts. Silas Marner, a linen-weaver, works in his solitary cottage by a stone-pit outside the English village of Raveloe. In a flashback, you learn that Marner came to Raveloe fifteen years earlier from a large industrial town where he was part of a fundamentalist Christian sect. But one night, Silas had fallen into a trance while watching over the deathbed of a church elder. Silas' best friend stole a bag of money from the dying man and blamed the theft on Silas. Their sect tried the case by drawing lots, to let God show who was guilty. When this method convicted Silas, he lost his faith in God and soon left the city. Ending up in Raveloe, he kept to himself and worked long hours. Slowly he began to accumulate gold, and this became his one purpose in life.
- Silas Marner is divided into Part One and Part Two, separated by sixteen years in time. The flashback in Chapter 1 travels an equal sixteen years in time, creating a fundamental symmetry (see diagram). Some readers have felt that the gap between the two parts is too long- they would like to watch Silas being transformed by his love for Eppie, not just be told about it. Yet in Chapter 14 Eliot does show the first stages of the process in detail, and in Chapter 16 she backtracks to fill in even more. This novel is divided into two parts in another, more important way. While Silas follows a cycle from misery back to happiness, Godfrey Cass follows an opposite path, from a life rich with possibilities to an unfulfilled existence. (See the diagram.) Eliot shifts back and forth between these two plots continually. Silas and Godfrey rarely meet face to face, yet they are linked- through Dunstan, who cheats Godfrey and robs Silas, and later through Eppie, whom Godfrey abandons and Silas adopts. Silas Marner, a linen-weaver, works in his solitary cottage by a stone-pit outside the English village of Raveloe. In a flashback, you learn that Marner came to Raveloe fifteen years earlier from a large industrial town where he was part of a fundamentalist Christian sect. But one night, Silas had fallen into a trance while watching over the deathbed of a church elder. Silas' best friend stole a bag of money from the dying man and blamed the theft on Silas. Their sect tried the case by drawing lots, to let God show who was guilty. When this method convicted Silas, he lost his faith in God and soon left the city. Ending up in Raveloe, he kept to himself and worked long hours. Slowly he began to accumulate gold, and this became his one purpose in life.
- Silas Marner is divided into Part One and Part Two, separated by sixteen years in time. The flashback in Chapter 1 travels an equal sixteen years in time, creating a fundamental symmetry (see diagram). Some readers have felt that the gap between the two parts is too long- they would like to watch Silas being transformed by his love for Eppie, not just be told about it. Yet in Chapter 14 Eliot does show the first stages of the process in detail, and in Chapter 16 she backtracks to fill in even more. This novel is divided into two parts in another, more important way. While Silas follows a cycle from misery back to happiness, Godfrey Cass follows an opposite path, from a life rich with possibilities to an unfulfilled existence. (See the diagram.) Eliot shifts back and forth between these two plots continually. Silas and Godfrey rarely meet face to face, yet they are linked- through Dunstan, who cheats Godfrey and robs Silas, and later through Eppie, whom Godfrey abandons and Silas adopts. Silas Marner, a linen-weaver, works in his solitary cottage by a stone-pit outside the English village of Raveloe. In a flashback, you learn that Marner came to Raveloe fifteen years earlier from a large industrial town where he was part of a fundamentalist Christian sect. But one night, Silas had fallen into a trance while watching over the deathbed of a church elder. Silas' best friend stole a bag of money from the dying man and blamed the theft on Silas. Their sect tried the case by drawing lots, to let God show who was guilty. When this method convicted Silas, he lost his faith in God and soon left the city. Ending up in Raveloe, he kept to himself and worked long hours. Slowly he began to accumulate gold, and this became his one purpose in life.
- Silas Marner is divided into Part One and Part Two, separated by sixteen years in time. The flashback in Chapter 1 travels an equal sixteen years in time, creating a fundamental symmetry (see diagram). Some readers have felt that the gap between the two parts is too long- they would like to watch Silas being transformed by his love for Eppie, not just be told about it. Yet in Chapter 14 Eliot does show the first stages of the process in detail, and in Chapter 16 she backtracks to fill in even more. This novel is divided into two parts in another, more important way. While Silas follows a cycle from misery back to happiness, Godfrey Cass follows an opposite path, from a life rich with possibilities to an unfulfilled existence. (See the diagram.) Eliot shifts back and forth between these two plots continually. Silas and Godfrey rarely meet face to face, yet they are linked- through Dunstan, who cheats Godfrey and robs Silas, and later through Eppie, whom Godfrey abandons and Silas adopts. Silas Marner, a linen-weaver, works in his solitary cottage by a stone-pit outside the English village of Raveloe. In a flashback, you learn that Marner came to Raveloe fifteen years earlier from a large industrial town where he was part of a fundamentalist Christian sect. But one night, Silas had fallen into a trance while watching over the deathbed of a church elder. Silas' best friend stole a bag of money from the dying man and blamed the theft on Silas. Their sect tried the case by drawing lots, to let God show who was guilty. When this method convicted Silas, he lost his faith in God and soon left the city. Ending up in Raveloe, he kept to himself and worked long hours. Slowly he began to accumulate gold, and this became his one purpose in life.
- Silas Marner is divided into Part One and Part Two, separated by sixteen years in time. The flashback in Chapter 1 travels an equal sixteen years in time, creating a fundamental symmetry (see diagram). Some readers have felt that the gap between the two parts is too long- they would like to watch Silas being transformed by his love for Eppie, not just be told about it. Yet in Chapter 14 Eliot does show the first stages of the process in detail, and in Chapter 16 she backtracks to fill in even more. This novel is divided into two parts in another, more important way. While Silas follows a cycle from misery back to happiness, Godfrey Cass follows an opposite path, from a life rich with possibilities to an unfulfilled existence. (See the diagram.) Eliot shifts back and forth between these two plots continually. Silas and Godfrey rarely meet face to face, yet they are linked- through Dunstan, who cheats Godfrey and robs Silas, and later through Eppie, whom Godfrey abandons and Silas adopts. Silas Marner, a linen-weaver, works in his solitary cottage by a stone-pit outside the English village of Raveloe. In a flashback, you learn that Marner came to Raveloe fifteen years earlier from a large industrial town where he was part of a fundamentalist Christian sect. But one night, Silas had fallen into a trance while watching over the deathbed of a church elder. Silas' best friend stole a bag of money from the dying man and blamed the theft on Silas. Their sect tried the case by drawing lots, to let God show who was guilty. When this method convicted Silas, he lost his faith in God and soon left the city. Ending up in Raveloe, he kept to himself and worked long hours. Slowly he began to accumulate gold, and this became his one purpose in life.
- Silas Marner is divided into Part One and Part Two, separated by sixteen years in time. The flashback in Chapter 1 travels an equal sixteen years in time, creating a fundamental symmetry (see diagram). Some readers have felt that the gap between the two parts is too long- they would like to watch Silas being transformed by his love for Eppie, not just be told about it. Yet in Chapter 14 Eliot does show the first stages of the process in detail, and in Chapter 16 she backtracks to fill in even more. This novel is divided into two parts in another, more important way. While Silas follows a cycle from misery back to happiness, Godfrey Cass follows an opposite path, from a life rich with possibilities to an unfulfilled existence. (See the diagram.) Eliot shifts back and forth between these two plots continually. Silas and Godfrey rarely meet face to face, yet they are linked- through Dunstan, who cheats Godfrey and robs Silas, and later through Eppie, whom Godfrey abandons and Silas adopts. Silas Marner, a linen-weaver, works in his solitary cottage by a stone-pit outside the English village of Raveloe. In a flashback, you learn that Marner came to Raveloe fifteen years earlier from a large industrial town where he was part of a fundamentalist Christian sect. But one night, Silas had fallen into a trance while watching over the deathbed of a church elder. Silas' best friend stole a bag of money from the dying man and blamed the theft on Silas. Their sect tried the case by drawing lots, to let God show who was guilty. When this method convicted Silas, he lost his faith in God and soon left the city. Ending up in Raveloe, he kept to himself and worked long hours. Slowly he began to accumulate gold, and this became his one purpose in life.
- Mary Anne Evans was born at South Farm, Arbury, on November 22, 1819. The youngest child of Robert Evans and Christiana Pearson Evans, she had four siblings: Robert, Fanny, Chrissy, and Isaac. Mary Anne shared an especially close relationship with her brother Isaac -- they were inseparable playmates.
- However, in 1824, Isaac was sent to school at Foleshill, and Mary Anne was sent to Miss Latham's boarding school. At Miss Lathim's, missing the companionship and comfort of her brother, Mary Anne first turned to books as a source of amusement. Those who knew her found Mary Anne a serious, sensitive, and introspective child. She had straight light-brown hair and a plain face. Mathilde Blind described her as "a queer, three-cornered, awkward girl, who sat in corners and shyly watched her elders." In 1828, after finishing at Miss Latham's, Mary Anne was sent to Mrs. Wallington's Boarding School at Nuneaton. It was at Mrs. Wallington's that she met the woman who was to be the most influential figure of her early life, Miss Maria Lewis. Maria Lewis, a kind woman with strong evangelical beliefs, was a governess at the school. She took an immediate interest in the shy Mary Anne, and marking the exceptional quality of the child's mind, took it upon herself to foster it. By the time Mary Anne was thirteen, she had learned all that Mrs. Wallington's school had to offer. When she left, however, she maintained a close relationship with Miss Lewis -- a relationship they kept up for nearly fourteen years. Upon leaving Miss Wallington's, Mary Anne attended Miss Franklin's school at Coventry. It was here that Mary Anne worked to rid herself of her Midland accent and cultivated the "low, well-modulated, musical voice, which impressed everyone who knew George Eliot in later years." At Miss Franklin's school, Mary Anne became an accomplished pianist, studied French, was admired for her skill at writing, and read widely. She also wrote poetry and fiction. Drastic changes soon occurred in Mary Anne's life. Her mother had been ill for quite some time. In February of 1839, Mrs. Evans died, and Mary Anne, then 19, left school to take care of her father. Though not the oldest daughter, Mary Anne had always been close to her father, and she tried to fill in for her mother while continuing her education at home (now Griff House). Robert Evans, proud of his daughter, bought Mary Anne any book she wished to have and arranged for her to receive lessons in Italian and German. In 1841, she and her father moved to a new home at Foleshill.
- Foleshill was a larger town than Griff, and Mary Anne suspected that her father had chosen it in order to enlarge her social circle, and perhaps help her find a husband. However, Mary Anne felt distanced from those around her. Always serious and shy, she "could not help thinking how much easier life would be to her, and how much better she would stand in the estimation of her neighbors, if only she could take things as they did, be satisfied with outside pleasures, and conform to popular beliefs without any reflection or examination." Mary Anne had been entertaining doubts about her religious convictions for some time, but she did not have the courage to relinquish those convictions just yet. At Foleshill, Mary Anne continued her studies and spent her evenings reading Sir Walter Scott to her father, whose health was failing. On November 2, 1841, Mary Anne was invited to the home of Charles and Cara Bray. Mary Anne found in the Brays the same doubts about Christianity that she had been secretly harboring for quite some time and felt she was among kindred souls. In his autobiography, Bray later wrote, "we became friends at once;" in fact, Charles and Cara Bray were to be Mary Anne's most intimate friends for the next thirteen years. In 1842, Mary Anne stopped going to church. Her longtime friend Maria Lewis was disappointed and their correspondence dwindled -- though no permanent break was made until Christmas of 1846. Mary Anne's father was even more disturbed by his daughter's heresy and refused to speak to her. Eventually, a truce was effected--Mary Anne agreed to go to church with her father and he conceded that she had the right to think what she pleased (as long as she showed signs of outward conformity), but relations between the two remained strained. Mary Anne continued her friendship with the Brays. They were open-minded intellectuals, and they brought the shy Mary Anne out of her shell. After five years in their company, she could not be called shy at all. Charles Bray had connections to some of the most important thinkers of the time, and Eliot's acquaintance with him served to bring her closer to "the world of ideas." Mary Anne met many interesting and important people at the Bray's home, including Ralph Waldo Emerson, who was quite taken with her and commented, "that young lady has a calm and serious soul." At Rosehill (the Bray's home), Mary Anne also met some of the people who were to become her closest friends: Sara Hennell, Charles Hennell, and Elizabeth (or Rufa) Brabant (later Mrs. Charles Hennell). In 1844, Mary Anne began work on an English translation of David Friedrich Strauss' Das Leben Jesu, one of the most influential works of religious thought read in England at the time. This translation took her two years to complete, and while her name did not appear on the publication, it did later bring her some little fame in London when people discovered that it was her work. Meanwhile, Mary Anne's father's health continued to fail, and Mary Anne was his caring nurse. He died in June of 1849. Mr. Evans seemed to soften towards Mary Anne a bit in his final years, but left her little in his will. Mary Anne was twenty-nine.
- Though emotionally and physically exhausted from nursing her father, Mary Anne agreed to take a Continental tour with the Brays just five days after the funeral. In July, rather than returning home with them, Mary Anne announced her intention to stay in Geneva alone. She returned to England in 1850, and resolved to move to London. She first spent seven months at Rosehill with the Brays, where she came into contact with John Chapman, a London publisher and bookseller. Having read her translation of Strauss, he asked her to write an article for the Westminster Review. Mary Anne finished this article in November. It was an impressive piece. She delivered the article herself to Chapman in London and took up lodgings in Chapman's London home at 142 Strand, where Chapman lived with his wife, Susanna, and his mistress, Elisabeth Tilley. Chapman was a tall, handsome, magnetic man and a notorious philanderer. Soon after Mary Anne moved into the Strand, he took a great interest in her and they began to spend an inordinate amount of time together, often at strange hours. Both his wife and his mistress were jealous. When Susanna caught her husband holding Mary Anne's hand, things blew up. Susanna and Elisabeth joined forces against Mary Anne and demanded of Chapman that she move out immediately. Mary Anne agreed to return to Coventry. In 1851, Chapman purchased the Westminster Review. He needed an editor, and he wanted someone who would be willing to let him take all the credit and work behind the scenes anonymously. Mary Anne was his first choice. However, he needed her in London, and knew it would prove difficult to persuade Susanna and Elisabeth to agree. Eventually, he did get the ladies to agree, and Mary Anne moved back into 142 Strand. Things were different this time -- Mary Anne saw the true nature of Chapman, and made a vow to keep her relationship with him strictly professional. This was a vow she kept. Mary Anne edited the Westminster Review for two years and ten issues. Under her direction, it again became the important intellectual journal it had once been under former editor John Stuart Mill. Mary Anne's social circle continued to grow. London had become a center of enlightened radicalism and there were many parties at the Strand where she met some of the most important thinkers of the time. Though she was physically unattractive, most people who met Mary Anne were quite taken with her. They were charmed by her expressive face and eyes, her gentleness, her beautiful, low voice, and her great intellect.
- Chapman soon asked Mary Anne to take over the "Belle Lettres" section of the Westminster Review at a fixed salary of fifty pounds a year. Mary Anne happily agreed to this extra income. She wrote countless book reviews which gave her ample cause to think about what exactly made good fiction. The couple received few visitors at first, but both Rufa and Bessie Parks broke the taboo and risked their reputations by paying calls at the Leweses. In June of 1856, Mary Anne and George moved to Tenby on the coast of South Whales. When Barbara Leigh Smith visited them in July, she remarked that the couple was very happy. At Tenby, Mary Anne began to think more and more about her childhood dream of writing fiction. She felt that she could competently write the descriptive passages of a novel, but feared that she lacked the talent to render dramatic and dialogue passages effectively. When she shared these thoughts with George, he encouraged her to try her hand at fiction writing. In August, the Leweses moved back to London, and on September 23rd of 1856, Mary Anne began to write "The Sad Fortunes of the Reverend Amos Barton," which would later become a part of Scenes of Clerical Life. Despite his avowed confidence in her, George still had some doubts about Mary Anne's ability to write fiction. Those doubts were removed when he read her Amos Barton story. Her fears were unfounded -- she could write good dialogue and she could create drama to stir the emotions. Lewes sent her story to his publisher, John Blackwood, claiming it was the work of a (male) friend who wanted to remain anonymous. The story was published on New Year's Day, 1857, less than two months after Mary Anne's thirty-seventh birthday. Mary Anne then adopted George Eliot as her nom de plume. She later told John Cross that she chose the name because "George was Mr. Lewes's Christian name, and Eliot was a good mouth-filling, easily pronounced word.” In May of 1857, Mary Anne finally decided to tell her family of her marriage to George. At first, she kept the details to herself, but when pressed, she revealed that the marriage was not a legal one. Urged by Isaac, Mary Anne's sisters wrote letters renouncing Mary Anne. She was now an outcast in the eyes of her family. After the publication of Scenes of Clerical Life, there was much talk about the supposed identity of George Eliot, but Mary Anne kept her secret (she didn't even tell Blackwood until February of 1858).
- Eventually, the Leweses managed to stem the tide of visitors to their London home and only saw the few people that they wished to see. One person who was always invited on Sundays was John Cross, their business manager of sorts, whom they referred to as their "dear nephew." In November of 1876, John Cross found a lovely house for George and Mary Anne, and they finally had the country home of which they had been dreaming. They enjoyed their new home immensely, finding their frequent walks in the countryside "so much better than Society!" In mid-1878, Lewes began to suffer from horrible cramps every night. Though he did not know it at the time, it was a sign of serious illness. The cramps continued to plague him and the attacks were coming more and more often, but he maintained his high spirits, concealing the seriousness of his illness. By November, he could no longer conceal his agony and Mary Anne wrote, "I have a deep sense of change within, and of a permanently closer companionship with death." Mary Anne was right, by the end of the month, her lifelong partner and support was dead. He passed away at their home in London on November 30, 1878. Mary Anne did not leave her room for a week, and did not go to the funeral. She could bear to see no one. Cross pressed her to accept him as a visitor, fearing that too long of a solitude might prove fatal to Mary Anne. She refused, writing on February 7, 1879, "each day seems a new beginning--a new acquaintance with grief." She finally saw him on February 23. Mary Anne began the task of completing Lewes's unfinished Problems of Life and Mind and decided to establish a trust in his name, the George Henry Lewes Studentship in Physiology. She saw Cross often as he was still helping her to manage her finances. In March, she began to see other friends as well. She and Cross grew closer -- they began to read Dante together. In August of 1879, Cross hinted for the first time that he wished to be more than a friend. That November, Mary Anne turned 60 and faced the one-year anniversary of Lewes's death. She still mourned him. Mary Anne finally accepted Cross's proposal of marriage (which had been extended three times) on April 9, 1880. Cross had just turned 40. The ceremony was in May of that year. In November, Mary Anne turned 61. On the evening of December 19, Mary Anne became suddenly ill. She was diagnosed as having laryngitis, and the doctor saw no cause for worry. A few days later her kidney problem began to bother her again, and she was in much pain. With little warning, she passed away at ten o'clock, the night of December 22, 1880. Her new husband was left alone after only seven months of marriage. Mary Anne was buried in Highgate Cemetery, London, next to her spiritual husband George Lewes.
- Eventually, the Leweses managed to stem the tide of visitors to their London home and only saw the few people that they wished to see. One person who was always invited on Sundays was John Cross, their business manager of sorts, whom they referred to as their "dear nephew." In November of 1876, John Cross found a lovely house for George and Mary Anne, and they finally had the country home of which they had been dreaming. They enjoyed their new home immensely, finding their frequent walks in the countryside "so much better than Society!" In mid-1878, Lewes began to suffer from horrible cramps every night. Though he did not know it at the time, it was a sign of serious illness. The cramps continued to plague him and the attacks were coming more and more often, but he maintained his high spirits, concealing the seriousness of his illness. By November, he could no longer conceal his agony and Mary Anne wrote, "I have a deep sense of change within, and of a permanently closer companionship with death." Mary Anne was right, by the end of the month, her lifelong partner and support was dead. He passed away at their home in London on November 30, 1878. Mary Anne did not leave her room for a week, and did not go to the funeral. She could bear to see no one. Cross pressed her to accept him as a visitor, fearing that too long of a solitude might prove fatal to Mary Anne. She refused, writing on February 7, 1879, "each day seems a new beginning--a new acquaintance with grief." She finally saw him on February 23. Mary Anne began the task of completing Lewes's unfinished Problems of Life and Mind and decided to establish a trust in his name, the George Henry Lewes Studentship in Physiology. She saw Cross often as he was still helping her to manage her finances. In March, she began to see other friends as well. She and Cross grew closer -- they began to read Dante together. In August of 1879, Cross hinted for the first time that he wished to be more than a friend. That November, Mary Anne turned 60 and faced the one-year anniversary of Lewes's death. She still mourned him. Mary Anne finally accepted Cross's proposal of marriage (which had been extended three times) on April 9, 1880. Cross had just turned 40. The ceremony was in May of that year. In November, Mary Anne turned 61. On the evening of December 19, Mary Anne became suddenly ill. She was diagnosed as having laryngitis, and the doctor saw no cause for worry. A few days later her kidney problem began to bother her again, and she was in much pain. With little warning, she passed away at ten o'clock, the night of December 22, 1880. Her new husband was left alone after only seven months of marriage. Mary Anne was buried in Highgate Cemetery, London, next to her spiritual husband George Lewes.