irst chapter together and cried over it. Then she wrote
more and always read her husband the chapters as they were turned off. He
corrected, encouraged, and found a publisher. But why should I tell about
it here? It's all in the "Britannica"--how the gentle beauty and
sympathetic insight of her work touched the hearts of great and lowly
alike, and of how riches began flowing in upon her. For one book she
received forty thousand dollars, and her income after fortune smiled upon
her was never less than ten thousand dollars a year.

Lewes was her secretary, her protector, her slave and her inspiration. He
kept at bay the public that would steal her time, and put out of her
reach, at her request, all reviews, good or bad, and shielded her from
the interviewer, the curiosity-seeker, and the greedy financier.

The reason why she at first wrote under a nom de plume is plain. To the
great, wallowing world she was neither Miss Evans nor Mrs. Lewes, so she
dropped both names as far as title-pages were concerned and used a man's
name instead--hoping better to elude the pack.

When "Adam Bede" came out, a resident of Nuneaton purchased a copy and at
once discovered local earmarks. The scenes described, the flowers, the
stone walls, the bridges, the barns, the people--all was Nuneaton. Who
wrote it? No one knew, but it was surely some one in Nuneaton. So they
picked out a Mr. Liggins, a solemn-faced preacher, who was always about
to do something great, and they said "Liggins." Soon all London said
"Liggins." As for Liggins, he looked wise and smiled knowingly. Then
articles began to appear in the periodicals purporting to have been
written by the author of "Adam Bede." A book came out called "Adam Bede,
Jr.," and to protect her publisher, the public and herself, George Eliot
had to reveal her identity.

Many men have written good books and never tasted fame; but few, like
Liggins of Nuneaton, have become famous by doing nothing. It only proves
that some things can be done as well as others. This breed of men has
long dwelt in Warwickshire; Shakespeare had them in mind when he wrote,
"There be men who do a wilful stillness entertain with purpose to be
dressed in an opinion of wisdom, gravity and profound conceit."

Lord Acton in an able article in the "Nineteenth Century" makes this
statement:

"George Eliot paid high for happiness with Lewes. She forfeited freedom
of speech, the first place among English women, and a tomb in We