George Eliot by Frederick Wedmore — Read

The accounts of George Eliot's earlier life, which are in general circulation, are in some respects imaginary. ‘George Eliot' -- Mary Ann Evans -- was not the daughter of a poor clergyman, nor was she ever ‘adopted' by a wealthy one. She was the daughter of a land surveyor in the Midland Counties, and was brought up at her father's home, her mother dying when Mary Ann Evans was still a child. Nor was she ever the ‘pupil' of Mr. Herbert Spencer, nor a frequent writer in the _Westminster Review_. She made the acquaintance and the friendship of Mr. Spencer when she was a woman, and already the mistress of the abstruse subjects in which she then chiefly delighted. She was for a time joint-editor of the _Westminster_ with Dr. Chapman; but her writings in that Review were neither numerous nor generally important. After a residence of some years in Coventry -- where she learned profoundly the features of the ‘Midlands,' which she afterwards described -- Mary Ann Evans came to London. At twenty-six years old she translated Strauss's _Life of Jesus_, and seven years later, Feuerbach's _Essence of Christianity_; but her efforts at creative writing were wisely delayed. Her apprenticeship to Literature and Philosophy was elaborate and laborious; her training was extensive and deep. It was not until 1858 that _Scenes of Clerical Life_ betrayed the presence of a new artist in Fiction -- an artist of fresh gifts, but of undeveloped art.

The narratives of the ‘Sad Fortunes of the Reverend Amos Barton,' of ‘Janet's Repentance,' and of ‘Mr. Gilfil's Love-Story' -- the _Scenes of Clerical Life_, in other words -- impressed certain readers, and deserved to impress them; but not even the pathos of Mrs. Barton's death would have given the writer lasting reputation had the book continued to stand alone. On re-perusal, the imperfections of its mechanism are too apparent; the novelist had not learned the art of proportion, nor the art of selection and rejection. Some little books, no bigger than the _Scenes of Clerical Life_, have been enough to secure for their authors an enduring fame. Nothing more than the _Vicar of Wakefield_ could have been required to keep Goldsmith's memory green. Sterne, desiring to be immortal, was under no obligation to write anything more, after he had written the _Sentimental Journey_. But the _Scenes of Clerical Life_, admirably fresh and spontaneous as they were, gave no such position to their author. It was not a young woman, but it was a woman young in her art, who was at work in them.