Address by Margaret Wolfit

\u27The Quiet Conquest\u27 is the title of the Huguenot exhibition celebrating Huguenot Heritage Year - 300 years since the revoking of the Edict of Nantes - currently showing at the London Museum. The origins and earliest application of the term Huguenot, we are told, have always been and remain somewhat obscure. The word may derive from \u27Eidgenoss\u27, meaning confederal, a word used in Geneva where John Calvin and many Huguenots settled. Other explanations for the word belong to the world of myths - a 16th century Catholic apologist, for example, apparently suggested that John Calvin nightly summoned a devil named Nox to his side, using the words \u27Hucnox\u27 and that their son \u27Hucnox\u27 was the sire of the Huguenot. In people\u27s mind John Calvin became the leading figure of the Protestant world. His theology was distinguished by the doctrine of predestination which said that 11 God hath once for all determined both whom he would admit to salvation and whom he would condemn to destruction . It was a particularly gloomy form of Protestantism. The Church in Geneva was governed by a consistory made up of six ministers and twelve laymen. Its business was to enforce a discipline of life so that God would be worshiped through the citizens\u27 dress and social customs. The Geneva Church dictated the character of the Huguenots\u27 congregations in France and later in those countries that welcomed them as refugees at the time of the persecution

Octavia Hill and George Eliot- Coincidences

For a long time I have been performing two one-woman shows based on the Victorian novelist George Eliot - Firstly, The Mill on the Floss , and later a biographical portrait of George Eliot herself. About three years ago, I began to feel that perhaps it was time to move on, and I searched around for another Victorian who might be of interest. One of the names that came to mind was that of Octavia Hill. As it happened, I had confused her with someone else, and when I came to research, discovered that I really knew nothing at all about her. Here was a woman with enormous influence in her day who had encompassed many vital reforms. She was a Co-Founder of the National Trust, a great conservationist who had devoted a great deal of her time and energy to preserving parks, commons and, in London, finding Open Air sitting rooms, as she called them, for the general public; all this besides her great work on better housing for the poor. She was born in Wisbech and came from a family devoted to work on social problems. Here, indeed, were fresh woods and pastures new! As I explored and researched, I discovered that much of her early life had been spent in and around the district of Hampstead and Highgate, where I also spent much of my childhood. She moved at the age of 13 to Fitzroy Square, London W. 1. with her mother and sisters. My husband, an architect, had an office there for many years. The name of John Ruskin is closely connected with the world of architecture and he had become Octavia\u27s friend, art teacher and financial backer at the onset of her work on Housing Management. There seemed to be one coincidence after another drawing us together. Octavia\u27s last years were spent in Kent not far from Sevenoaks, and during a walk in some woods at Ide Hill near to the home of some distant relatives, I discovered a National Trust plaque in her memory. All this naturally made studying her life doubly interesting, and then I discovered, surprisingly, that Florence Nightingale had written of Octavia Hill in a review of the novel Middlemarch. Here she expressed her astonishment that, George Eliot could find no better career for Dorothea Brooke than to marry first of all an elderly sort of literary impostor and secondly an inferior fawn, yet close at hand, in actual life, was a woman an idealist too and if we mistake not a connection of the author\u27s who had managed to make her ideal very real indeed. By taking charge of buildings in poorest London, while making herself the rent collector, she found work for those who could not find work for themselves. She organised a system of visitors. She brought sympathy and education to bear from individual to individual. Were there one such woman with power to direct the flow of volunteer help, nearly everywhere running waste in every street in London\u27s East End, almost might the East End be persuaded to become Christian. Could not the sweet sad enthusiast have been set to such work as this? So I had, in fact, strayed only a short distance from George Eliot

Address of Wreath-laying in Poets\u27 Corner, Westminster Abbey 20 June 2002

Dear George Eliot You don\u27t know me - but I have been a great admirer of yours for a long time now, since I was at school in fact. I must have been very young when I first had parts of your novels read to me. Later when I was at boarding school I studied Silas Mamer for a literature exam - I can\u27t recall my reaction to other authors at the time - but I know I wrote a letter home saying I thought George Eliot must be a wonderful person because my mother kept the letter. After leaving school, I went to the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art and subsequently became an actress, not surprising, coming from a theatrical background. A number of years later I spent a period working abroad and during that time was asked to give solo recitals of poetry and drama. It was whilst in Australia that I conceived the idea of writing a programme based on a female author. I explored a number of possibilities. Why did I choose you? I think, at the time, your work was rather neglected. You were sometimes thought of as long-winded, ponderous and humourless, but I felt a great sympathy with your humanity. I have to say that, at the time, I did not think of you as a writer of comedy, but I found wonderful passages of humour and humorous characterization which often surprised me and always delighted me. I often found myself laughing out loud. I read your novels avidly, and finally decided that The Mill On The Floss seemed to be the most autobiographical and suitable for dramatization as a one-woman show for the theatre. So, I had the temerity to sit down and adapt it. It was quite an undertaking as you can imagine. To condense the novel to just under two hours - forced to miss out some people\u27s favourite passages and even characters - and yet keep the story-line was no easy task. It took a long time. Having finished, and it has been altered over the years, I put it into a bottom drawer and tried to forget about it, a little frightened as to my next move. However, things developed and eventually it went into performance with, I am glad to say, a measure of success. From those beginnings your life and work became something of a fascination and this, in turn, led me to evolve a biographical programme about you, played in the first person and using your own words. This brought me into contact with the renowned American Professor, Gordon Haight, whose biography of you, and edition of your letters and journals, has proved invaluable to students of your work

Dearly Beloved Scott

When Mary Ann Evans was seven years old, her elder sister Chrissie was lent a copy of Waverley. Unfortunately, the book had to be returned before Mary Ann had finished reading it: this distressed her greatly, and she began to write out the story herself. Maggie Tulliver, in The Mill on the Floss, says of Scott\u27s novel The Pirate, \u27Oh, I began it once. I read to where Minna is walking with Cleveland and I could never get to read the rest. I went on with it in my own head, and I made several endings - but they were all unhappy….\u27 In the summer of 1871, at the time of Scott\u27s centenary, Marian (as she now called herself) wrote to Alexander Main that she worshipped Scott, tracing her first reading back to when she was seven years old and saying how she had read Scott to her father, thus comforting his last years. She added \u27No other writer would serve as a substitute for Scott and my life at that time would have been much more difficult without him. It is a personal grief - a heart wound to me when I hear a depreciating or slighting word about Scott\u27.2 It is clear that he was the writer who first fired her imagination as a child and remained, indeed, an inspiration and influence throughout her life. During her first year at the Misses Franklin\u27s school in Coventry (she was then thirteen) Mary Ann read Bulwer Lytton\u27s Devereux and probably much of Scott, who was writing until his death in 1832. Later, in her early twenties, she wrote rather pompously to her friend and early mentor, Maria Lewis, about Scott\u27s life as depicted by his biographer Lockhart that \u27all biography is interesting and instructive. Sir Walter Scott himself is the best commentary on the effect of romances and novels. He sacrificed almost his integrity for the sake of acting out the character of the Scotch Laird, which he had so often depicted\u27. She became more radical when she moved to Coventry with her father and met Charles and Cara Bray. Their influence brought about a marked change in her ideas: at one point they took her to visit the Waverley country, while among the interesting people she met at their home was James Simpson, an old friend of Scott\u27s and a champion of free elementary education. Scott\u27s father had been a \u27high and dry\u27 Calvinist, but his son \u27early put behind him Calvinism and all that it implied, he disliked the intense preoccupation of a man with his own soul which imported evangelicalism from England and detested the new industrialism\u27

George Eliot in South Africa

In 1992 I made my first visit to South Africa. I had always wanted to see for myself what life Was like there and come to my own conclusions. It was an extraordinary time to visit. Mandela had been released from goal and a referendum of the whites was announced while we were there. The scene was changing - everywhere people seemed aware of the evils of apartheid, and that things must and would change. My invitation to give readings and speak about George Eliot came directly from that first visit, I was asked to give a course at the 1993 Summer School at Cape Town University. It was a challenge I couldn\u27t refuse. I\u27m not an academic and I didn\u27t know what to expect. My course was scheduled for 9.15 a.m. so that it could inaugurate the second week of the Summer School. Here are a few excerpts from the diary I kept then. Saturday January 23rd, 93 Cape Town. Did a dummy run in the car to see the lay of the land. The University is in two parts. The Upper Campus with original buildings and imposing statue of Cecil Rhodes. There is a wonderful view of the Western Cape from the steps leading to the main buildings. A tunnel under Rhodes Drive, the main N2 Trunk Road, links the Upper and Middle campus. I am to give my course in the Education block which is a modern building and part of the middle campus. Found Lecture theatre 1 by walking down a couple of levels from the entrance. I felt excited but very nervous! A man sitting outside the Lecture theatre turned out to be Tony Saddington. We introduced ourselves - As there was a lecture in progress it was impossible to have a look. Drove around to get a better measure of parking facilities as like all Universities the layout is complicated. Monday D Day! Parked car in P3 as instructed with my red disc in a prominent position on dash board. Car Park pretty full even at 8.45 a.m. Met Tony Saddington and Librarian who was to introduce me. Felt a long way from home! It is a large lecture theatre and seemed full, mostly middle aged to elderly audience, predominantly female and one nun. No blacks or coloured which disappointed me as it is a multi-racial University and the summer school open to all races but I suppose the cost would preclude many. I was milked and introduced. Once I started I felt better. A very perceptive intelligent audience and wonderful on comedy -lots of laughs for the auctioneer in Middlemarch. Today was mainly on G. E.\u27s life. Finished rather before the hour and asked for questions. One woman said I didn\u27t need a mike as I knew how to use my voice which was gratifying! Afterwards a number of people came up to talk. Apparently Newdigate is a well-known name in Knysna and Grahamstown - early settlers. I had coffee in the Staff room afterwards and met Penny Morrell who deals with the Extra-Mural activities. Everyone is very friendly. They are showing the Television Silas Mamer at lunch time today. A letter from South African Broadcasting to ring Marilyn Holloway. Have arranged an interview for Friday

Octavia Hill and George Eliot- Coincidences

For a long time I have been performing two one-woman shows based on the Victorian novelist George Eliot - Firstly, The Mill on the Floss , and later a biographical portrait of George Eliot herself. About three years ago, I began to feel that perhaps it was time to move on, and I searched around for another Victorian who might be of interest. One of the names that came to mind was that of Octavia Hill. As it happened, I had confused her with someone else, and when I came to research, discovered that I really knew nothing at all about her. Here was a woman with enormous influence in her day who had encompassed many vital reforms. She was a Co-Founder of the National Trust, a great conservationist who had devoted a great deal of her time and energy to preserving parks, commons and, in London, finding Open Air sitting rooms, as she called them, for the general public; all this besides her great work on better housing for the poor. She was born in Wisbech and came from a family devoted to work on social problems. Here, indeed, were fresh woods and pastures new! As I explored and researched, I discovered that much of her early life had been spent in and around the district of Hampstead and Highgate, where I also spent much of my childhood. She moved at the age of 13 to Fitzroy Square, London W. 1. with her mother and sisters. My husband, an architect, had an office there for many years. The name of John Ruskin is closely connected with the world of architecture and he had become Octavia\u27s friend, art teacher and financial backer at the onset of her work on Housing Management. There seemed to be one coincidence after another drawing us together. Octavia\u27s last years were spent in Kent not far from Sevenoaks, and during a walk in some woods at Ide Hill near to the home of some distant relatives, I discovered a National Trust plaque in her memory. All this naturally made studying her life doubly interesting, and then I discovered, surprisingly, that Florence Nightingale had written of Octavia Hill in a review of the novel Middlemarch. Here she expressed her astonishment that, George Eliot could find no better career for Dorothea Brooke than to marry first of all an elderly sort of literary impostor and secondly an inferior fawn, yet close at hand, in actual life, was a woman an idealist too and if we mistake not a connection of the author\u27s who had managed to make her ideal very real indeed. By taking charge of buildings in poorest London, while making herself the rent collector, she found work for those who could not find work for themselves. She organised a system of visitors. She brought sympathy and education to bear from individual to individual. Were there one such woman with power to direct the flow of volunteer help, nearly everywhere running waste in every street in London\u27s East End, almost might the East End be persuaded to become Christian. Could not the sweet sad enthusiast have been set to such work as this? So I had, in fact, strayed only a short distance from George Eliot

George Eliot Birthday Luncheon: The Toast to The Immortal Memory

In May 1869 George Eliot received what she described as a really noble letter from the American writer Harriet Beecher Stowe full of admiration of Silas Marner The Mill on the Floss and Adam Bede and although they never met, there seems to have been some deep affinity of feeling between these two eminent women that drew them closely together in spite of diversity of intellectual tastes. In reply to that first letter George Eliot wrote; - Letters are necessarily narrow and fragmentary, and when one writes on wide subjects, are likely to create more misunderstanding than illumination. But I have little anxiety in writing to you, dear friend and fellow labourer; for you have had longer experience than I as a writer, and fuller experience as a woman, since you have born children and known a mother\u27s history from the beginning. I trust your quick and long taught mind as an interpreter little liable to mistake me. When you say We live in an orange grove, and are planting more and when I think you must have abundant family love to cheer you, it seems to me that you must have a paradise about you. But no list of circumstance will make a paradise. Nevertheless, I must believe that the joyous, tender humour of your books clings about your more immediate life, and makes some of that sunshine for yourself, which you have given to us

Aesop\u27s Fables and George Eliot\u27s Brother and Sisters Sonnets

It is always exciting to discover something new and to come upon it unexpectedly. That was my happy experience a few years ago. I had decided to try my hand at devising a biographical programme on George Eliot and to attempt to portray her at the end of her life, reminiscing on past events. I wanted to absorb as much as I could about her, starting with her early days. What were the influences that shaped her life and writing? What books had she read as a child? She tells us: \u27I could not be satisfied with the things around me. I was constantly living in a world of my own creation, and was quite content to have no companions that I might be left to my own musings and imagine scenes in which I was chief actress; conceive what a character novels would give to these Utopias. I was early supplied with them by those who kindly sought to gratify my appetite for reading and of course I made use of the materials they supplied for building my castles in the air, although I was slow to read because I enjoyed playing more.\u27 It seems as though it was not until her brother Isaac, whom she adored, was given a pony and cared less and less to play with his young sister, that she turned to reading for consolation. \u27Books became a passion with me, I read everything I could lay hands on. [ ... ] I found passionate delight and total absorption in Aesop\u27s Fables which opened up a new world to my imagination. It was given to me by an old friend of the family, an elderly gentleman, who came to visit and brought me a book from time to time. I was very grateful as we did not have many books at home: the Bible, Shakespeare, Pilgrim\u27s Progress and Joe Miller\u27s Jest book being among the few.\u2

Obituary 2: Gordon Haight

In the spring of 1972 when I was making plans to take my one woman version of “The Mill of the Floss” to the Edinburgh Festival fringe I plucked up courage and wrote a letter to Gordon Haight asking his help with some programme notes. I had, of course, read and greatly admired his definitive biography of George Eliot, but I had never met him. Some weeks later I received a telephone call from him. He told me he was in London, he didn’t know how he could help m but suggested that I might like to see him at his hotel the following day. I was both excited and very nervous at the prospect of meeting this eminent man. His kindness, humour and charm put me at my ease at once. We has long talk and he showed a generous interest in what I was doing. He suggested that I might use an extract from the introduction to his edition of “The Mill of the Floss”. On his return to the United States he wrote saying that he had been unable to find a copy for me in London, and that he had ordered one to be sent but meanwhile the article had been reprinted in “A Century of George Eliot Criticism”. I was extremely grateful for his help and of course used an excerpt in the progamme. I later sent him a copy of a notice I received in “The Scotsman” which I thought might interest him and received a courteous reply