188 PRESIDENT’S ADDRESS—SECTION I. 
participates in this general advance, many worthy people still see 
in it a snare, and regard it with but scant toleration. The 
number of these objectors, however, steadily diminishes, and 
lighter reading, even if it convey no particular lesson, when 
pursued within due limits and as a relief from severer studies or 
occupations, is now generally regarded as not only harmless in 
itself, but as of actual benefit in lending an additional attraction 
to the home circle. It may also be recollected that our novel 
may prove in some distant future to be of historic value, in 
affording an accurate picture of the inner life, manners and 
customs of its age. We know something of ‘‘The glory that was 
Greece, and the grandeur that was Rome,” but in addition to 
what we can gather from plays and other writings, what would 
we not give for such a full and accurate presentment as that 
afforded by the novel, of the social life and everyday walk and 
conversation of the people themselves? And here, as circum- 
stances enable me to do so, I desire to couch a lance in behalf of 
one of our most brilliant delineators of modern life and character, 
George Eliot. In a public lecture delivered here not long ago, 
dealing in a very kind and appreciative spirit with George Eliot’s 
writings, it was said that on reading her biography by Mr. Cross, 
the impression received was to the effect that almost all of the 
authoress was in her works, and that little or nothing was left 
for the friends of her social circle. If this be the case, I have 
good reason to say the biography, unwittingly no doubt by its 
author, conveys a very faulty impression. A few years ago I had 
the pleasure of knowing a personal friend of George Eliot, a man 
of exceptional culture and acquirements. He always spoke to 
me in most glowing terms of the social gifts and graces of the 
great authoress, of her amazing and charming power of ready 
sympathy, of her quick intuitive perception, clear judgment, 
and admirable common sense. With one expression in regard 
to her more serious conversation I was particularly struck— 
“Tn fact,” he said, “when walking and talking with her I always 
felt as if I walked and talked with Plato.” In connection with 
this supposititious failure of George Eliot as a social unit, a 
suggestion was also hazarded on the occasion already alluded 
to, that it may even be well we know so little of the social life 
of Shakespeare, as it was possible he may there have shown no 
indications of his genius, nor have risen above mediocrity. But 
when we see that George Eliot’s supposed deficiencies were 
actually non-existent, this allusion to her case can have no weight. 
And when we consider the peculiar brilliancy and exuberance of 
Shakespeare’s imagination, and take into account not only the 
admiration and respect, but the warm affection with which he is 
spoken of by such a learned and caustic writer as Ben Jonson, it 
is impossible, I think, to fancy he was not endowed with the 
fullest share of all those bright and genial gifts that enliven and 
