Salem State University - Clipper Yearbook

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Pictures of Childhood George Eliot has been called the loving mother of her children characters, but so thoroughly does she understand each trait and feeling, that it seems as if she were one of them. In spirit she really is, for she remembers with great distinctness the happy, in- comparable days of her own childhood. Her own life with her brother is even as sweet a picture as those she has described in her books. She says:- To nourish the sweet skill of loving much. Those hours were seed to all my after good, My infant gladness, through eye, ear and touch, Took easily as warmth a various food. As this little girl grew older, the love still remained a dominant feature of her nature, and, added to the understanding which comes with experience, made possible the beautiful pictures of childhood that We find in her works. They will seem even more beautiful if we stop to think about them in the same loving way. 'Tis love must see them as the eye sees light. Think for a moment of a spacious kitchen back in old England. All is quiet except for the singing of the tea-kettle and the snapping of fire-wood. Muvver, says a small, chirping voice, My iron twite told. I fink Totty needs it hottedf' On a high stool by her mother's ironing board sits a plump, little red-cheeked girl of three, ironing rags with such assiduity that her tongue must stick from her mouth as far as her anatomy will allow. But mother is all through now. Totty must put her ironing away. 'CI tink Totty wants some pum take. UNO! No! Totty mustn't tease. Totty, however, seems furnished with a number of requests. If one fails, another will do as well. She ends by sticking her fingers in a bowl of starch, tipping it completely over. Then, with a sort of waddling run, she hurriedly retreats into the next room. Noyv turn to a different part of England, and see a child in very different circum- stances. It is cold. Light snow is on the ground. It is night. Far out over the White ground is the rcflexion of a bright light, shining from the door of a little cottage. In the powdery snow is a little ehild on all fours, holding out one little hand to catch the gleam. Where is it? Ah! it is very far away, and the little one, rising, toddles through the snow, the olrl dirty shawl in which she is wrapped, trailing behind her. Into the hut of Silas Marner she comes, and up to the blazing hearth. Squatting on an old cloak, spread before the tire to dryg she spreads her little hands and gurgles in great content. But soon all is quiet in the room except for the crackling of the twigs, sending out dinnner and dinnnr-r lights over the body of a sleeping child. ' 'l'ben comes Silas to sit in his great ehair and push the logs together, when, to his flimming sight, it seems as if his long lost gold lay on the floor before him. lie trembles. Wlmt f-:in it nu-an? llown goes Silas on his knees. Ile sees u sleeping child-a beautiful little- girl with r-oft yellow rings all over her head. Poor old Silas pushes more wood on In the tire. lt is no vision. The bright gleam lights up all the more clearly the form of the slr-frpiog baby and her shaggy clothing. The old man sinks back in his chair. 18

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Uncle! while I Was out playing on the dikes the other day, I saw a stork with a broken wing. Will he ever be able to Hy again? Blind Man: It might heal after a while, but he would probably be killed before then. Peter: Oh, no! I carried him home, and we are going to keep him until he gets well. But I must be going now, uncle. Mother wants me to get home before dark. Blind Man: I donlt like to have you go because you will take the sunshine with you, but be a good boy, Peter, and mind your mother always. Tell her that the cakes will taste very good. Peter: Good-bye, Uncle. I shall come again in a day or two. Blind Man: Good-bye, Peter. Run straight home, so that mother won't worry. COurtain.j SCENE III. Scene: Same as Scene I. Father sits at the table eating his breakfast. Mother is bust- ling about, trying to work, but keeps going to the window. Mother: Peter never stayed away from home before without asking if he might. .QShe goes to the Window again.j Father: Oh! helll be here soon. Probably he found the old uncle lonely, and stayed all night with him. , Mother: But he told me he would come back before clark, and he has always kept his Word. Q, Father: He is a brave boy, and I dare say he is safe. Mother fagain going to windowjz I Wonder who is coming down the road. There are two men, and they are carrying something between them. Father: Probably taking something to market. QEnter Hans and Gretchen. Hans is about six, and Gretchen eight. They are dressed in the ordinary Dutch costume.j Hans: Mother, have you seen our Peterkin? Gretchen: Where is our Peterkin? Mother: He has not come home. Oh, Father! it's a boy they're carrying. It can't be Peter! It is! It is! CI.oud burst of cheering is heard, growing louder and louder. Father rushes out to meet them.j Mother: They are singing and cheering. Gretchen Cdancing about joyouslyj : Mother, he is safe. QEnter men, laughing, still bearing Peter on their shoulders. Peter looks rather sheepislnj Mother: Oh, Peter! Where have you been all night? First Nvorkmanz He has been trying to keep the Whole ocean out of Holland. It was too hard work, and he fell asleep doing it. Second WVorkman: He has saved the land by keeping the Water out, and he only fell asleep after We found him, and began to repair the damage. Mother: He has saved us all. Peter: I haven't done anything. I only held my hand in the hole, hoping some one Would come. I wouldn't have cared if I hadn't been so sleepy. I think it's a good thing the men came when they did, for I was almost asleep. It was such a long time. fOurtain.j M. F. R. H. E. S. 17

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There comes a cry from the hearth. Marner stoops and lifts the child to his knee. At once she clings to his neck, and deep down in the heart of the man comes a feeling of contentment such as money could never have given him. George Eliot also knew the traits of older children. In 'fMill on the Floss, based on scenes from her own home life, are some of the best pictures of the life of brother and sister. Aunts and uncles are visiting at Maggie's house, and after enduring many remarks concerning her thick, black, shaggy hair, Maggie at last flees in despair, bidding Tom to follow. Soon he finds her in the midst of her room, her thick hair, as usual, tumbling about her face. IVith both hands she holds a pair of shears. Snip! Part of the front locks are gone. 'fHere, Tom, cut the back and have it over with, she cries hurriedly. At first Tom holds the shears doubtfully, but mischief gets the upper hand, and the great scissors go grinding through the thick mass of hair. Oh, my buttons, Maggie, what a fright you are l laughs Tom, dropping to the Hoor and holding his sides. Look at yourself in the glass? Maggie hurries to the mirror and takes one look at herself. Her thick, black hair now sticks from her head in a thousand different angles. Oh, my buttons, Maggie! says Tom again. HI can't stand this. Guess I smell the dinner? And poor Maggie is left to stare at herself in despair and perplexity. Very similar to other pictures of the life of Tom and Maggie are those of George Eliot's own childhood, put into her poem, 'tBrother and Sister. He was the elder and a little man Of forty inches, bound to show no dread, And I, the girl, that puppy-like now ran, Now lagged behind my brother's larger tread. Many were the haunts that these two knew, for they were always together. He plucked the fruit too high for her. He carried the basket and fishing rods when they trudged off together. He judged carefully when he guided her tiny feet on to the firm stepping-stones. Such days George Eliot always remembered with a rare distinctness. They fur- nished her with themes pleasant to think and write about long years after, making her one of her children characters although she seems the loving mother. Through her own childhood, she has put childhood into her works, giving her pleasures to many Fothgrs. 19