George Eliot [pseudonym of Mary Anne or Marian Evans] (1819-1880), English author wrote

The Mill on the Floss (1860);

"How can you talk so, Mr. Tulliver? She's too big a gell--gone nine, and tall of her age--to
have her hair cut short; an' there's her cousin Lucy's got a row o' curls round her head, an'
not a hair out o' place. It seems hard as my sister Deane should have that pretty child; I'm
sure Lucy takes more after me nor my own child does. Maggie, Maggie," continued the
mother, in a tone of half-coaxing fretfulness, as this small mistake of nature entered the
room, "where's the use o' my telling you to keep away from the water? You'll tumble in and
be drownded some day, an' then you'll be sorry you didn't do as mother told you."

Maggie's hair, as she threw off her bonnet, painfully confirmed her mother's accusation. Mrs.
Tulliver, desiring her daughter to have a curled crop, "like other folks's children," had had it
cut too short in front to be pushed behind the ears; and as it was usually straight an hour
after it had been taken out of paper, Maggie was incessantly tossing her head to keep the
dark, heavy locks out of her gleaming black eyes,--an action which gave her very much the
air of a small Shetland pony.Book 1, ch. 2
John Morley, in his essay titled "The Life of George Eliot" (1904) recalls Eliot's frustration
towards the 'habit' of literary biography. She herself lived a controversial and unconventional
life, has been the subject of much scholarly debate, and been the study of many
biographers. In her time many were shocked by some of her choices in life 'unbecoming a
woman', but she eventually earned the deserved esteem of an accomplished author. Her
works stand on their own, not to be overshadowed by her personal life. Among the best of
the Victorian writers, Eliot deals with themes of social change and triumphs of the heart and
has a remarkable talent for showing us the depth and scope of Provincial English life: its
classes, pretensions, and hypocrisies. Many of her novels today are included in the canon of
classic 19th century literary works. Some have been adapted to film, many still in print
today.
Although she would use a number of spelling variations of her name over the years, she was
born Mary Anne Evans on 22 November 1819 at the family home "South Farm" on the Arbury
Estate in Warwickshire, England. She was the youngest daughter of Robert Evans (17731849) and his second wife Christiana Pearson Evans. Mary had two step-siblings, Robert and
Fanny, and two full siblings, Chrissey and Isaac. Her father was a stern but loving man,
working under great authority for the Newdigate family as a land agent and builder. Robert
is likely in part inspiration for Eliot's fictional characters Adam Bede (1859) and Caleb Garth
in Middlemarch (1871-2). Unlike the many poor tenants who worked the estates' land and
surrounding mines, the Evans's enjoyed a comfortable life. Young Mary attended Chilvers
Coton Church with her family and became an avid reader, spending much time in the library.
She was very close to Chrissey and devoted to her older brother Isaac, although in later
years they would disagree on most matters familial and religious. It was very difficult for the
shy and introverted Mary to see him go off to boarding school.
Her own formal education at boarding school started in 1824. She was next enrolled at Mrs.
Wallington's School at Nuneaton where the school's governess, Miss Maria Lewis took her
under her wing. Mary found in her evangelical piety purpose and comfort; she became her
mentor and they held a long correspondence after Mary left the school. Nuneaton would play
a large role in Eliot's fictional work Scenes of Clerical Life (1858). At school in Coventry Mary
learned to play the piano, studied languages, and began writing stories and poetry. She fully
embraced her faith and was a pious and serious student; however, like Maggie Tulliver in The
Mill on the Floss, she would come to question her faith.

After her mother died of cancer in 1836, Mary moved back to the family home "Griff House"
on the Arbury Estate. Isaac was back home living with his father in preparation to take over
his position on the estate, and Chrissy was also there. Mary helped her run the household
and take care of their father. He bought many books for Mary and hired a tutor for her
because she had done so well in school--he wanted her to continue her studies. She also
found time to write; the Christian Observer published her first poem in 1840. The next year
she moved with her now-retired father to "Bird Grove" in Foleshill, near Coventry and
embarked on a period of great change. For many years Mary had been self-conscious about
her appearance and been plagued by self-doubt; she was afraid of becoming a spinster and
tended to melancholy. And she was questioning her Christian faith and forming her own
opinions of Victorian society. Her soul searching resulted in her deciding not to attend church
anymore, which strained relations with her brother and father. But, another world of purpose
and comfort had opened to her; her social circle widened as she was welcomed into
Coventry's intellectual circle. She became friends with irreverent freethinkers like Cara and
Charles Bray and started reading non-religious literary works such as those of Thomas
Carlyle, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Sir Walter Scott. She also met publisher John Chapman
who printed her first translation, Life of Jesus, in 1846. Another translation of hers',
Feuerbach's Essence of Christianity, was published in 1854.
When her father died in 1849 after a lengthy illness, Mary travelled with the Brays to Italy
and Switzerland. In Geneva she met the D'Albert Durades family and revelled in her
freedom. Her father had left her a small yearly income, just enough to live on, and she
moved to London in hopes of becoming a journalist as Marian Evans. She roomed at 142
Strand, the home of and offices for Chapman, who was now owner of the Westminster
Review. Marian assisted as editor, vetted submissions, and wrote reviews for it. Her keen
intellect, years of religious study, knowledge of languages and literature, and work in
translations proved invaluable to Chapman and the Review. She was given wide-ranging
editorial control and flexed her might as a writer in the non-fiction vein, her articles
published anonymously. She enjoyed a particularly unorthodox position as a single working
woman in a mid-1800's male-dominated industry; she was independent and free to make
her own choices. But life in London was becoming complicated. Marian fell for the charms of
the charismatic Chapman who was married, had a mistress, and was now spending much
time with her. Marian was also attending lectures and the theatre, and becoming acquainted
with many figures in the publishing world including Charles Dickens, Wilkie Collins, and
prolific author, philosopher, and critic George Henry Lewes (1817-1878).
When Marian met the bohemian Lewes he was in an open marriage with Agnes Jervis, but by
the end of 1852 he was staying with Marian at her new rooms in Hyde Park. Although now a
free-thinker herself, Marian chose not to have children, not wanting them to be born to
unmarried parents. Although the Lewes's never memorialised their union legally, they
considered it a marriage despite the derision they received from friends and relatives and
the effect it had on their professional careers. Marian now called herself Mrs. Marian Evans
Lewes. The two travelled to the Continent a number of times and shared several homes
including "Priory" in Regent's Park, London, and "The Heights" at Witley, until Lewes' death
in 1878. Her lover and her best friend, Lewes was an avid supporter to Marian and
encouraged her to take up her pen and write fiction. Despite the public scandal that arose
from their relationship, Marian's most prolific and successful period of writing started with
the serialisation in Blackwood's Magazine of her Scenes of Clerical Life (1858). A collection of
three stories, it was her first work published under her pseudonym George Eliot. There were
a few reasons for her choosing a pen name at this point in her life; public knowledge of her
adulterous relationship with Lewes was one. Another was that, although she had been
published anonymously in the Westminster Review, many now knew it was she who wrote
with the sharp and cunning intellect that cut away conventions and exposed the mediocrity
to be found in literature of the day. Neither male nor female authors were immune to her
scrutiny. She did not want her reputation to precede her works. Having a male pen name

('George' of course being Lewes' first name) set a tone for her fiction apart from the
feminine genre of cookbooks and domestic moral tales.
Adam Bede (1859) was her first full-length novel. It was an immediate success, but attracted
fervent public gossip as to who the real author was. When it was discovered that Eliot was
Mrs. Marian Evans Lewes, many castigated her but she was also lauded by friends, fellow
authors, and feminists. The dedication in Adam Bede read;
"To my dear husband, George Henry Lewes, I give the manuscript of a work which would
never have been written but for the happiness which his love has conferred on my life."
The Lifted Veil (1859) reflects the personal struggles Eliot went through as a woman and
author in the spotlight since the success of Adam Bede. She still felt self-doubt at times and
had bouts of depression--this sensitive inner-life reflected in many of the portraits painted of
her. But always Lewes was there to urge her forward. Eliot's most autobiographical novel The
Mill on the Floss (1860) was followed by Silas Marner: the Weaver of Raveloe (1861). Her
epic historical novel for which she did much research, Romola (1862-3), is based on the life
of Dominican Monk Savonarola. It was followed by Brother Jacob (1864) and Felix Holt: The
Radical (1866), a political story set in the time of the Great Reform Act of 1832. Eliot wrote
many poems including her epic "The Spanish Gypsy" (1868) and "How Lisa Loved the King"
(1869). Other poems would be included in The Legend of Jubal and Other Poems (1870).
Eliot's masterpiece Middlemarch (1871-2) was followed by Daniel Deronda (1876). Around
this time the Lewes's went to live at "The Heights" in Witley, Surrey. George had been sick
for some time, and died on 30 November 1878. Eliot was profoundly grieved, but found
some comfort in editing his Problems of Life and Mind. She was also working on her own last
work, a collection of essays titled Impressions of Theophrastus Such (1879). While Eliot
isolated herself from family and friends, she did allow banker John Walter Cross to visit her.
Over twenty years his senior, Cross asked Eliot to marry him. Initially she was very reluctant,
but in an odd turn of events she accepted. They were married in May of 1880 and Eliot
reverted back to her name Mary Ann, only dropping the e. While it was a convention she had
rejected for so many years, her marriage did contribute to reconciliation with her brother
Isaac. Settling at 4 Cheyne Walk in Chelsea, London, the Cross's marriage would be shortlived.
George Eliot died on 22 December 1880. She now rests with Lewes in Highgate Cemetery in
London, England. Her epitaph reads: "Of those immortal dead who live again, In minds made
better by their presence." Here rests the body of GEORGE ELIOT. (MARY ANN CROSS).
Although Eliot's wish to be buried in Westminster Abbey was not granted, in 1980 a
memorial was placed in Poet's Corner in her honour, among other such esteemed literary
figures as William Blake, Aphra Behn, and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
Elbert Hubbard, in his Little Journeys, Vol. 1: Good Men and Great compares Eliot to
Shakespeare--their lives, loves, and works;
Warwickshire gave to the world William Shakespeare. It also gave Mary Ann Evans. No one
will question that Shakespeare's is the greatest name in English literature; and among
writers living or dead, in England or out of it, no woman has ever shown us power equal to
that of George Eliot, in the subtle clairvoyance which divines the inmost play of passions, the
experience that shows human capacity for contradiction, and the indulgence that is merciful
because it understands.
Biography written by C. D. Merriman for Jalic Inc. Copyright Jalic Inc. 2007. All Rights
Reserved.
The above biography is copyrighted. Do not republish it without permission.

CHAPTER 2

George Eliot was the pen name of Mary Ann Evans, one of the leading English
novelists of the 19th century. Her novels, most famously 'Middlemarch', are
celebrated for their realism and psychological insights.
George Eliot was born on 22 November 1819 in rural Warwickshire. When her
mother died in 1836, Eliot left school to help run her father's household. In
1841, she moved with her father to Coventry and lived with him until his death
in 1849. Eliot then travelled in Europe, eventually settling in London.
In 1850, Eliot began contributing to the 'Westminster Review', a leading
journal for philosophical radicals, and later became its editor. She was now
at the centre of a literary circle through which she met George Henry Lewes,
with whom she lived until his death in 1878. Lewes was married and their
relationship caused a scandal. Eliot was shunned by friends and family.
Lewes encouraged Eliot to write. In 1856, she began 'Scenes of Clerical Life',
stories about the people of her native Warwickshire, which were published in
'Blackwood's Magazine'. Her first novel, 'Adam Bede', followed in 1859 and was
a great success. She used a male pen name to ensure her works were taken
seriously in an era when female authors were usually associated with romantic
novels.
Her other novels include 'The Mill on the Floss' (1860), 'Silas Marner'
(1861), 'Romola' (1863), 'Middlemarch' (1872) and 'Daniel Deronda' (1876). The
popularity of Eliot's novels brought social acceptance, and Lewes and Eliot's
home became a meeting place for writers and intellectuals.
After Lewes' death Eliot married a friend, John Cross, who was 20 years her
junior. She died on 22 December 1880 and was buried in Highgate Cemetery in
north London.

QUOTES
It is never too late to be what you might have been.
Animals are such agreeable friends - they ask no questions, they pass no
criticisms.
Blessed is the influence of one true, loving human soul on another.
Blessed is the man who, having nothing to say, abstains from giving wordy
evidence of the fact.
What do we live for, if it is not to make life less difficult for each other?
Our deeds determine us, as much as we determine our deeds.
Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them.
The golden moments in the stream of life rush past us and we see nothing but
sand; the angels come to visit us, and we only know them when they are gone.
But what we call our despair is often only the painful eagerness of unfed
hope.
Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would
fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.
It will never rain roses: when we want to have more roses, we must plant more
roses.
Different taste in jokes is a great strain on the affections.
The strongest principle of growth lies in the human choice.
Adventure is not outside man; it is within.

No evil dooms us hopelessly except the evil we love, and desire to continue
in, and make no effort to escape from.
Jealousy is never satisfied with anything short of an omniscience that would
detect the subtlest fold of the heart.
What loneliness is more lonely than distrust?
There is a great deal of unmapped country within us which would have to be
taken into account in an explanation of our gusts and storms.
One must be poor to know the luxury of giving!
I like not only to be loved, but also to be told I am loved.
Failure after long perseverance is much grander than never to have a striving
good enough to be called a failure.
Nothing is so good as it seems beforehand.
There are many victories worse than a defeat.
The reward of one duty is the power to fulfill another.
Our deeds still travel with us from afar, and what we have been makes us what
we are.
More helpful than all wisdom is one draught of simple human pity that will not
forsake us.
I'm not denyin' the women are foolish. God Almighty made 'em to match the men.
The important work of moving the world forward does not wait to be done by
perfect men.
Wear a smile and have friends; wear a scowl and have wrinkles.
Anger and jealousy can no more bear to lose sight of their objects than love.
Little children are still the symbol of the eternal marriage between love and
duty.
He was like a cock who thought the sun had risen to hear him crow.
Only in the agony of parting do we look into the depths of love.
An election is coming. Universal peace is declared, and the foxes have a
sincere interest in prolonging the lives of the poultry.
All meanings, we know, depend on the key of interpretation.
I'm proof against that word failure. I've seen behind it. The only failure a
man ought to fear is failure of cleaving to the purpose he sees to be best.
The beginning of compunction is the beginning of a new life.
The responsibility of tolerance lies with those who have the wider vision.
There are some cases in which the sense of injury breeds not the will to
inflict injuries and climb over them as a ladder, but a hatred of all injury.
I desire no future that will break the ties with the past.
Perhaps the most delightful friendships are those in which there is much
agreement, much disputation, and yet more personal liking.
It is a narrow mind which cannot look at a subject from various points of
view.
The happiest women, like the happiest nations, have no history.
The finest language is mostly made up of simple unimposing words.
The best augury of a man's success in his profession is that he thinks it the
finest in the world.
Our words have wings, but fly not where we would.
Some people did what their neighbors did so that if any lunatics were at
large, one might know and avoid them.
Ignorance gives one a large range of probabilities.
It is easy to say how we love new friends, and what we think of them, but
words can never trace out all the fibers that knit us to the old.
Gossip is a sort of smoke that comes from the dirty tobacco-pipes of of those
who diffuse it: it proves nothing but the bad taste of the smoker.
In every parting there is an image of death.