Evangelical Christians play important roles in George
Eliot’s first two novels: Scenes of Clerical Life (really three separate
novellas in one volume) and Adam Bede. As is well known, George Eliot (see
above) was the pen name of Marian (earlier Mary Ann, or Mary Anne) Evans and
her interest in evangelical Christianity came from when she attended schools in
Nuneaton and Coventry. In her Introduction to the Oxford World’s Classics
edition of Scenes of Clerical Life, Josie Billington writes [1]:
As an adolescent, coming of age in
just the period – the 1830s – she writes of in Scenes, Mary Anne Evans
was swept up in the religious current of Evangelicalism.. ..If the Oxford
Movement sought to turn back the legacy of the Reformation, Evangelicalism
sought to complete what the Reformation had begun, expunging the ceremony and
sacrament which were the remaining formal vestiges of Roman Catholicism and rediscovering
the vital puritan impulses of original Protestantism.. ..Evangelicalism offered
a belief that was hard and uncompromising, yet passionately earnest and
totalizing, which in the first half of the nineteenth century had a profound
impact not just on the rural towns of England, but on the nation’s cultural and
intellectual life in general.
Never fully committed to evangelical Christianity, Marian
went on to reject it, while retaining sympathies for the “good side” of some of
those who believed wholeheartedly in this approach. Her views are discussed in
an essay by Donald C. Masters [2]:
While George Eliot (1819-1880)
came to dislike the Evangelical viewpoint, her treatment of Evangelicals, particularly
in her early novels, was much more sympathetic than that of other Victorian
novelists.. ..Like many other disillusioned Christians she retained her belief
in the Christian ethic. She liked the Evangelicals in spite of their doctrines
and what she regarded as their naïveté and narrowness, because they made people
better..
..Her early letters.. ..suggest
that her acceptance of Evangelical principles was merely an intellectual
process. She never made the complete personal commitment that is the secret and
core of the Evangelical position.. ..She had lost faith in the Bible, the
essential basis of the Evangelical tradition and described it.. ..as “histories
consisting of mangled truth and fiction.”
Many of us who have encountered evangelical Christianity, and
subsequently turned away from it without making “the commitment”, can recognise
George Eliot’s feelings. I have described my own experience [3]:
My last contact
with formal Christianity came at Torquay Boys’ Grammar School, where I went to
meetings of the Christian Union, in which my elder brother was a leader. We sat
around a table and listened to speakers, or to tapes of Billy Graham preaching.
We also had prayer meetings when we all had to take part. Prayers were for the
usual things connected with our salvation but, being a school, we also prayed
for masters who were Christian, to boost their religious, as well as their
educational, mission. I always dreaded prayer meetings and was not comfortable
at any of the other meetings either. Unlike some of those present, I found
Billy Graham strange and rather too energetic, and neither could I summon up
much enthusiasm for a guest speaker who spent many minutes propounding the
correct pronunciation of Bethphage.
There were tracts
for us to hand out in the school, delivered in bulk from the Evangelical Tract
Society.. ..I couldn’t hand out such things and had quite a collection by the
time I stopped attending the Christian Union.
It is not difficult, then, to see how personal experience of
religious groups affects one’s reading of George Eliot’s novels. Like Marian, I
rejected the thinking of evangelical Christians (on many grounds) and, like
her, try to see their good human qualities, although I worry about their
tendency to proselytise to those going through hard times.
In addition to Evangelicals, another feature of George
Eliot’s novels is the presence of young children, often described in detail and
forming important threads to the various storylines. Marian loved children, but
she was unable to have any of her own. The reason was not biological, as far as
I know, more that she didn’t marry until she was in her sixties and spent most
of her adult life living with George Henry Lewes (see above), who was already
married and had children. If “living in sin” was bad enough in the eyes of many
in Victorian society, having children while in such a relationship would be
viewed very severely indeed. Certainly, Marian’s cohabitation with Lewes caused
much pain to her upright family and this, in turn, was the source of much
sadness to her.
The couple had a very close relationship, with Marian
depending on George for reassurance and advice. He was from a theatrical family
and both acted in, and wrote, plays: he also wrote novels, was an expert on
Goethe, published an outstanding review of philosophy through the ages, contributed
to many leading artistic journals, and was also what we would now call a
networker [4]. Although unprepossessing in appearance (some called him ugly),
he was popular for his conversation and energy and he knew many of the movers
and shakers in Victorian literary society. He was one himself.
Lewes met Marian through John Chapman, the publisher of the Westminster
Review [5]. Chapman was a “free-thinker” and Marian lived in his household,
where relationships between Mr and Mrs Chapman, their governess, and Marian
were complicated. In Ashton’s account [5] we read that Chapman “visited Marian
Evans’ room, where she played the piano for him and taught him German.” It was
all too much for Mrs Chapman and Marian left the household, but returned in
1851 when Chapman asked her back to help him as part of the editorial team on
the Review, where her “sharp brain, wide knowledge, willing labour, and
ability to deal tactfully yet firmly with touchy contributors” [5] was invaluable.
During 1852, Marian was spending much time with Herbert
Spencer, the philosopher and biologist to whom she had been introduced by
Chapman, and they “were so often in one another’s company that ‘all the world
is setting us down as engaged’, Marian would have liked nothing better, but
Spencer was less keen.” [5] The result was that, in 1853, Lewes replaced Spencer
in her affections and this was the start of a deep relationship that only ended
with Lewes’ death. He was a great support to Marian and advised her during her
first, tentative steps as a novelist and he played the same role after she had
become famous and was being hailed as a very significant writer. Marian had
come a long way from those evangelical Christian schooldays in Warwickshire and
Lewes had also progressed in his interests. Like his hero Goethe, he then became
interested in practical science.
In the early years of his relationship with Marian, Lewes
had been chided by T.H.Huxley as a “’mere’ book scientist ‘without the
discipline and knowledge which result from being a worker also’”. This came
after a review that Lewes had written and it perhaps inspired him to join the
Victorian craze for the study of marine natural history. The leading figure in
popularising this interest was Philip Henry Gosse, who had written A Naturalist’s
Rambles on the Devonshire Coast (1853, centred on Torquay and Ilfracombe), The
Aquarium (1854) and Tenby (published in March 1856, centred on the
Welsh seaside town). Lewes read all these books and, in the summer of 1856, he
and Marian left for Ilfracombe (where they befriended another enthusiast, Mr
Tugwell, the curate of Ilfracombe) and then Tenby; following this with visits
to the Scilly Isles and Jersey in spring and early summer of 1857. It was
during the first section of this marine shore adventure that the pair discussed
the possibility of Marian’s writing a novel. The Sad Fortunes of the Rev
Amos Barton was commenced in the autumn of 1856 and became the first part
of Scenes of Clerical Life published, anonymously, in instalments in Blackwood’s
Magazine through 1857 and as a book in two volumes in 1858. She was not an enthusiast
for studying shore life, so Lewes’ avid work on the coast allowed Marian time
to think about the content of her embryo novel.
Lewes’ work was published in instalments in Blackwood’s Magazine
through 1856/7 and came out in book form, published by Blackwood and Sons and dedicated
to Richard Owen, as Sea-side Studies in 1858. In the preface, Lewes pays
homage to Huxley (perhaps the latter’s comment stung?) and there are frequent
references to Gosse throughout the book. Both men showed a particular interest
in sea anemones and, indeed they had a dispute over one aspect of the biology
of some of these animals [6]. It is interesting to make a comparison of the two
men.
Whereas Lewes was a free-thinking agnostic (if he must be
classified), Philip Henry Gosse (above) was a strict believer in the literal
truth of the Bible [3] and an evangelical Christian. In 1857 he moved to St
Marychurch in Torquay after the death of his wife Emily, who had accompanied
him to Torquay, Ilfracombe and Tenby on the collecting trips that resulted in
his earlier books. Emily was a writer of religious tracts (like those I failed
to hand out during my school days) and as deeply committed as her husband to
evangelical Christianity. Her painful death, leaving Henry Gosse with his young
son Edmund (later Sir Edmund), was the main reason that he decided to move.
At the time of the move to Torquay, he was expecting high
sales of his book Omphalos, that was to be published in late autumn
1857, and he was looking forward to the attention that it would bring. Although
there are many references to God and Creation in Henry’s books, Omphalos
saw him tackle head-on the conflict between the Biblical Creation and the idea
of geological time scales, that were becoming accepted by the mid-1850s. It is
subtitled “an attempt to untie the geological knot” and it was Henry’s attempt
to ease an obvious conflict: his idea being that rock strata and fossils were
all created over the short period of the Biblical Creation. In Omphalos,
he showed a thorough knowledge of geology and palaeontology and knew that large
time periods were involved, but clung to his odd theory, for which he was duly
mocked. Through all the difficulties of 1857, Henry didn’t question his
beliefs; rather he became even more ensconced in evangelical Christianity. He
reduced his attendance at meetings of the learned societies and didn’t have
much personal contact with members the scientific community, although he had
correspondence with many people, including Darwin.
There are many that still adhere to the Creationist views
shown by Henry Gosse, although they make little attempt to provide a rational
explanation to account for the differences between their views and those of the
scientific community. At least Henry made an attempt, even if his explanation
was unacceptable to both scientists and believers; Charles Kingsley, for
example, chastised Gosse for suggesting the God appears to be telling lies [3].
It seems that evangelical Christians who believe in the literal truth of the
Bible have the opinion that there can be no opposition to their view and cannot
tolerate any other explanations.
Lewes took a very different approach, as described by David Williams
[4]:
He thinks, or at any rate he
wishes, that the scientific explorers and the religious no-compromise men.. ..
can be brought together to ‘sit round a table’, as we put it, that Huxley and
Darwin can amicably confer with the tractarians and the Evangelicals and come
out of the room with a formula acceptable to both sides.
There has been movement among some evangelical Christians
and we are all familiar with the little car badge of a fish with limbs, bearing
the word “Darwin” at its centre. Perhaps the only major difference for many is
whether there was a Creator, or whether all that we see around us is the result
of chance events.
After the adverse comments about Omphalos, Henry
Gosse spent much time collecting marine creatures from the shores of South
Devon [3]. He was in the throes of producing his major monograph on sea
anemones, that was to be a standard work on these animals for many years and is
still consulted today. It contains brilliant illustrations, as Gosse was a very
capable artist in watercolours [7].
In a letter sent to Tugwell in November 1856, Lewes writes [8]:
It would be a pleasant thing for
you to write the monograph on Actinae with W. Thompson; & as to the money,
you can’t expect much from such labour, but may consider yourself lucky to be
free of expense. At the same time you have a formidable rival in Gosse, who is
I believe engaged on a monograph.
This shows Lewes’ respect for Gosse as an expert in sea
anemones, but in a later letter to Hutton on 5th May 1859 we read [8]:
Gosse’s book is too poor for a
review; & I have long been making notes of the history I shall sketch which
will I hope be far more entertaining than a review.
I assume that Lewes is referring here to Omphalos, as
Actinologica Britannica appeared in book form in 1860, having previously
been published in twelve parts from 1858-1860 [9]. Despite their disagreement
over some points [6], Lewes clearly respected Gosse as a natural historian.
We know that Lewes and Marian visited Torquay in 1868 and,
while the former continued with dissections for a future publication, Marian
was preparing ideas for Middlemarch and it is possible that there were some
indirect references to Torquay in that book [10]. We also learn that Marian and
Lewes enjoyed walks at Babbacombe, adjacent to St Marychurch [10], and one
wonders whether they called on Gosse, or encountered him while walking. I
cannot find reference to a meeting and would be intrigued to know how it might
have gone and what Marian would have made of this evangelical Christian and a
man who was not afraid of proselytising. The urge to spread the Gospel came through
in many of Henry Gosse’s books, but rarely with the intensity of the
extraordinary conclusion of A Year at the Shore, published in 1865,
three years before George and Marian arrived in Torquay [11]:
I cannot conclude
this volume without recording my solemn and deliberate protest against the
infidelity with which, to a very painful extent, modern physical science is
associated. I allude not only to the ground which the conclusions of modern
geologists take, in opposition to the veracity of the “God which cannot lie,”
though the distinct statements which He has made to us concerning Creation are
now, as if by common consent, put aside, with silent contempt, as effete
fables, unworthy of a moment’s thought, and this too before vast assemblages of
persons, not one of whom lifts his voice for the truth of God. These assaults
are at least open and unmasked. But there is in our scientific literature, and
specially in that which takes a popular form, a tone equally dangerous and more
insidious. It altogether ignores the awful truths of God’s revelation, that all
mankind are guilty and condemned and spiritually dead in Adam; that we are by
nature children of wrath; that the whole world lieth in the wicked one; and
that the wrath of God abideth on it: it ignores the glorious facts of atonement
by the precious blood of Christ, and of acceptance in Him. It substitutes for
these a mere sentimental admiration of nature, and teaches that the love of the
beautiful makes man acceptable to God, and secures His favour. How often do we
see quoted and be-praised, as if it were an indisputable axiom, the sentiment
of a poet who ought to have known better,–
“He prayeth best who
loveth best
All things, both
great and small;” –
a sentiment as silly
as it is unscriptural; for what connexion can there be between the love of the
inferior creatures, and the acceptableness of a sinner praying to the Holy God?
It is the intervention of Christ Jesus, the anointed Priest, which alone gives
prayer acceptance… There is no sentimental or scientific road to heaven. There
is absolutely nothing in the study of created things, however single, however
intense, which will admit sinful man into the presence of God, or fit him to
enjoy it. If there were, what need was there that the glorious Son, the
everlasting Word, should be made flesh, and give His life a ransom for many? …
If I have come to God as a guilty sinner, and have found acceptance, and
reconciliation, and sonship, in the blood of His only-begotten Son, then I may
come down from that elevation, and study creation with advantage and profit;
but to attempt to scale heaven with the ladder of natural history, is nothing
else than Cain's religion; it is the presentation of the fruit of the earth,
instead of the blood of the Lamb … This will be, in all probability, the last
occasion of my coming in literary guise before the public: how can I better
take my leave than with the solemn testimony of the Spirit of God, which I
affectionately commend to my readers, – … THERE IS NO WAY INTO THE HOLIEST BUT
BY THE BLOOD OF JESUS. FINIS.
Henry Gosse was not only a proselytising
evangelical Christian, but the leader of his group of Brethren in St
Marychurch. He thus retreated into his own support group and this made it increasingly
difficult for him to accept any religious views other than those he supported.
It was religious differences, and the views of Henry on who one should have as
friends, that was the basis of the conflict with his son, Edmund, described
(with some elaboration?) in the latter’s famous book Father and Son [12].
This volume, more than any other work, has shaped our view of Henry [3], a pity
as, if one could find a way of negotiating the religious hurdle, with all its
side effects, he was a very nice man and would certainly be good company on
rambles or on the shore.
As we have seen, Marian Evans and
Geoge Lewes were more accepting of those with religious differences and the
former certainly recognised these human sides of evangelical Christians,
although she was aware of their dogmatism and inflexibility. I think they would
have enjoyed meeting Gosse, but what would Henry make of them? He would balk at
their lack of faith in his version of Christianity and he would also strongly
disapprove of their relationship. Henry did re-marry after the tragic death of
Emily and his second wife, Eliza, while also being a member of the Brethren
appeared to be a little more flexible in her approach to Edmund’s “sinfulness”
than was his father. Edmund was also helped in his relationship with his father
by his wife, the painter Nellie Epps, whom I have described as a “Nineteenth
Century Wonder Woman” [13]. Nellie’s sister, Laura Alma-Tadema drew a profile
of Marian in 1877 [14] and it would be amusing to know what the artist felt
about her sitter and what views she shared with the Gosse family.
[1] Josie Billington (1988) Introduction to George Eliot’s Scenes
of Clerical Life. Oxford, Oxford University Press World’s Classics.
[2] Donald C. Masters (1962) George Eliot and the
Evangelicals. The Dalhousie Review 41: 505-512.
[3] Roger S Wotton (2020) Walking with Gosse: Natural
History, Creation and Religious Conflicts. e-book.
[4] David Williams (1983) Mr George Eliot: A Biography of
George Henry Lewes. London, Hodder and Stoughton.
[5] Rosemary Ashton (2008) Lewes, George Henry
(1817-1878). https://doi.org/10.1093/ref:odnb/16562
[6] https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2016/11/the-human-side-of-science.html
[7] https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2017/04/stunning-biological-illustrations.html
[8] William Baker (ed.) (1995) The Letters of George
Henry Lewes Volume 1. Victoria, Canada, ELS Editions.
[9] R.B.Freeman and Douglas Wetheimer (1980) Philip Henry
Gosse: A Bibliography. Folkestone, Wm. Dawon & Sons.
[10] Kathleen McCormack (2005) George Eliot’s English
Travels: Composite characters and coded communications. Abingdon,
Routledge.
[11] Philip Henry Gosse (1865) A Year at the Shore.
London, Alexander Strahan.
[12] Edmund Gosse (1907) Father and Son: A Study of Two
Temperaments. London, William Heinemann Ltd.
[13] https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2017/08/nellie-epps-nineteenth-century-wonder.html
[14] https://www.npg.org.uk/collections/search/portrait/mw01628
