novel fixed her place in literature, and fixed it so high that it became in some respects a discouragement to her self-distrustful temperament, projecting a dark rather than a luminous shadow on the future, by rendering it so difficult to be equal to herself in a new production. But, very ambitious by nature, and full of ideas to which she was irresistibly impelled to give expression, she found, if not confidence, courage to enter on a new novel. We do not learn by any means so much about either the motive, the framework, or the execution of this as of the former work. It is evident enough that in the recollection of the fraternal relations between her and Isaac the book originated, growing naturally, as it went on, out of Book the First, "Boy and Girl"; and this view is confirmed by the fact that the name first bestowed on the novel was 'Sister Maggie.' Comparing it, while in its early stage, with 'Adam,' she says, – "The characters are on a lower level generally, and the environment less romantic." She expresses doubt and distrust from time to time, and describes herself as "a prisoner in the Castle of Giant Despair, who growls in my ear that the 'Mill on the Floss' is detestable." Nevertheless, the reception of the work brought her full content. It was recognised as of the same brand as 'Adam.' At this time there is no reason, as there was then, for desiring to prove that each succeeding work is as good as its predecessors; and we believe the author was right about "the lower level." The Tullivers are inferior to the Bedes in simplicity, force, and interest; the Gleggs, Dodsons, and Pulletts are ordinary compared with the tenants of the Hall Farm, and their characteristics are exaggerated into grotesqueness; while the tragedy of the end handicaps the book, as a disastrous close always does, unless, as in the 'Bride of Lammermoor,' the whole tone and atmosphere is so sombre that no other kind of conclusion is artistically possible – a reason not present here; for Bulwer pointed out, and George Eliot admitted as a fault, that the tragedy is not adequately prepared – meaning, doubtless, that there is nothing in the course of the tale so ruinous of happiness, or so unredeemable, as to render a tragic conclusion inevitable. But throughout the work the same hand is evident as that which wrought 'Adam Bede': the style is no less careful and finished; the views of life are no less original and uncommon; and the general reader, thus assured that the guidance was as strong as ever, was content to follow whithersoever it might lead.
In the same year in which 'The Mill on the Floss' was written, she made a first visit to Italy. Of its great cities none made so deep an impression on her as Florence; and its treasuries of art, of scenery, and of history, inspired her with the idea of writing an historical romance, of which it should be the scene. The same strong tendency which had led her to interfuse in former works the evangelical and the Methodist spirit, now impelled her to choose for the groundwork of her subject the career and martyrdom of Savonarola. To qualify herself for the task of representing the costume and social life of the period, she saturated her mind with Italian lore, and made a second visit to Florence; and in 'Romola,' which appeared in the 'Cornhill Magazine,' satisfied her admirers that she had lost none of her strength in dealing with a long-past epoch in a foreign land. But
