The ancient city of Coventry was not far distant.  It was not these historic regions which attracted her, however, so much as the pleasant country, the common people, the quiet villages.  With observant eyes she saw the world about her as it was and she entered into the heart of its life, and has painted it for us in a most sympathetic, appreciative spirit.  The simple, homely, unromantic life of middle England she has made immortal with her wit, her satire, her fine description, and her keen love of all that is human.  She herself recognized the importance of her early surroundings.  In one of her letters she used these words: 

It is interesting, I think, to know whether a writer was born in a central or border district—­a condition which always has a strongly determining influence.  I was born in Warwickshire, but certain family traditions connected with more northerly districts made these districts a region of poetry to me in my early childhood.  I was brought up in the Church of England, and have never joined any other religious society, but I have had close acquaintance with many Dissenters of various sects, from Calvinistic Anabaptists to Unitarians.

The influence of the surroundings of childhood upon character she has more than once touched upon in her books.  In the second chapter of Theophrastus Such, she says,—­

    I cherish my childish loves—­the memory of that warm little nest where
    my affections were fledged.

In the same essay she says,—­

    Our Midland plains have never lost their familiar expression and
    conservative spirit for me.

In Daniel Deronda she most tenderly expresses the same deep conviction concerning the soul’s need of anchorage in some familiar and inspiring scene, with which the memories of childhood may be delightfully associated.  Her own fond recollections lent force to whatever philosophical significance such a theory may have had for her.

A human life should be well rooted in some spot of a native land, where it may get the love of tender kinship for the face of the earth, for the labors men go forth to, for the sounds and accents that haunt it, for whatever will give that home a familiar, unmistakable difference amidst the future widening of knowledge; a spot where the definiteness of early knowledge may be inwrought with affection, and kindly acquaintance with all neighbors, even to the dogs and monkeys, may spread, not by sentimental effort and reflection, but as a sweet habit of the blood.

Mary Ann Evans was born at South Farm, a mile from Griff, in the parish of Colton, Warwickshire, England, November 22, 1819.  In after years she adopted the abbreviated form of her name, and was known by her friends as Marian.  When she was six months old the family moved to Griff House, which was situated half-way between Bedworth, a mining village, and the manufacturing town of Nuneaton.  In approaching Griff from Nuneaton, a little valley, known as Griff Hollows, is passed, much resembling the “Red Deeps” of The Mill on the Floss.  On the right, a little beyond, is Griff House, a comfortable and substantial dwelling surrounded by pleasant gardens and lawns.