Commonplace 37 George & the Curious Incident of the Police-Sergeant in the Night-Time. PART THREE.
In Commonplace 35 and 36 we looked at the accusations so frequently made that Marianne aka Nell was a drunkard. I refute the claims because there is no evidence for them. Biographers may choose to repeat what others say but that doesn't make it true.
To briefly recap: on September 24th 1883 George had a visit from a police sergeant who came to tell him Marianne had been attacked by three men. The policeman was really there because he saw an opportunity to make some money in offering his services as a detective to gather information of a detrimental kind so George could move to divorce her. George tells us this is exactly what he thinks is the reason for the call.
In his letter to Algernon, it is clear George is very disturbed by this - despite him writing 'Don't think this upsets me.' It clearly does, because he has already thought it through and formulated a plan. As we know from his reporting of other personal events, George often underplays things probably to convince himself as much as to reassure others. Seeing something in writing externalises the threat and can give us courage, when faced with momentous challenges.
Had George thought about divorcing Marianne before this? Probably. Sadly, he had no further use for her, so if he was a single man again he could move to find a nice young girl - much as he moved on that adorable tobacconist's daughter, Miss Curtis from Eastbourne, a few months after Marianne's death in 1888 (though no doubt he'd had his eye on that little sweetie for some time and even took Morley Roberts along for a peek at her). In 1883, George was in his prime and understandably needed to satisfy his natural urges. Apart from the odd sexual encounter with Marianne (I suspect he continued enjoy his conjugals when they were separated) he must have longed for the days when he had a woman to both worship and pick up after him, as much as to satisfy his longings for intimacy.
George hints at something by saying he would not divorce Marianne for the money, 'But for quite other reasons'. The 1852 Divorce and Matrimonial Causes Act only allowed for a husband to divorce his wife if she committed adultery click. Should we presume the police sergeant was trying to suggest Marianne was committing adultery in the form of soliciting when she was attacked? If this odious man really knew Marianne and her movements in the community, and had access to confidential criminal records, then it should have been a doddle to find enough proof to enable George to bring divorce proceedings against his wife. If guilty of adultery, a wife would forfeit her alimony - which is why George says he wouldn't be doing it just for the money; in fact, he says he wouldn't stop paying her, whatever the outcome. Indeed, he mentions in a letter to Algernon of September 29th, that he will continue paying her because he knows she has 'no other means of support'. Good man. The policeman says he thinks he can get the evidence, so they make a deal.
George ends this letter to Alg saying he is going to discuss the matter with Frederic Harrison, his Positivist mentor.
If Mrs Harrison had helped Marianne find accommodation when the couple stopped cohabiting, George would already have laid the foundations of blaming Marianne for her own predicament. He knew the Positivist's sympathy would be easy to engage: Harrison would be reminded that, in 1824 the founder of Positivism, Auguste Comte lived in an unmarried union with Caroline Massin; she had been accused of being a prostitute. Later, Comte referred to this ‘marriage’ of 18 years as ‘the only error of my life’(which, if it took 18 years for him to work out, was an indicator he can't have been all that positive he ha). During this period Comte supported himself and his partner by tutoring - which he hated.
George engaged his private detective/moonlighting police sergeant on Sunday September 9th: 'I had an interview today with the police sergeant who had charge of the case, - the same man who called on me. He was sure there could be no difficulty in procuring quite decisive evidence, & indeed will prepare himself to produce such.'
Marianne was attacked in the street at night, when she was alone and vulnerable, but that does not mean she was up to no good when it happened. Everything we know about Victorian men's attitudes to women and working class women in particular are at play. Women were seen as wilful, wild, slightly mad unreliable creatures by most men (most men think the same today). In the nineteenth century, women's vulnerability to criticism based on their gender and sexuality cannot be over-emphasised. Firstly, there is the criticism that George voices about Marianne being in a place 'where she had no business to be' - despite her being a free agent. Women out of doors alone late at night was anathema to the middle-classes, but let's not forget working class women led very different lives, and there were many reasons to be out of doors after midnight. As a chronically ill person in need of medical attention and medication, there could be pressing reasons for having to be out when you have no man to do such things for you. There is no mention in the letter to Algernon what Marianne's explanation was - unless George withheld this information from his brother. If you choose to frame Marianne as debauched you will think she was up to no good. I choose to frame her as a brave woman forced to take care of herself and standing up to, first of all, three predatory males, and then a police station full of male inquisitors. She will have been aware that to make a formal complaint might lead to accusations of prostitution, and yet she still attempted to get justice. I find that rather heroic. Ask yourself: at a time when the whole of Great Britain was debating the topic and harsh penalties had been introduced to address public concerns, would any woman with a guilty conscience risk bringing her 1.30 am plight to the attention of the police? That she wanted to withdraw the charge when at the police station is understandable; many female victims of crime nowadays can't face the gruelling interrogations and investigations into crimes against them.
George reports in a letter of Monday, October 1st that he met with Harrison again but the older man could not recommend a solicitor to handle the divorce, so he asks if Alg knows of someone who can take on the case. He is very worried: the two assailants were discharged when they went to court because of insufficient evidence and he fears these men will come after him for damages. And he hints at a fear of possible extortion: 'who knows what might happen?' He seems to think the hunt for evidence is in train and what is unearthed will settle the matter of Marianne's guilt, and he is prepared to borrow the money from Harrison to finance it. This is October 1st.
There are no letters (in the Ohio Press Letters Vol 2) until October 10th when George writes again to his brother: 'I hope it will be possible to establish proof of my respectability with Poole.' (Did he own up to his prison record?) Poole is the man Alg has recommended as a legal representative. He ends the letter by reporting he has been to Aberdeen (550 miles from London), there by boat; back by train. (He mentioned in the October 1st letter: 'Don't be in a hurry to reply. I have to be out of town from Wednesday to Sunday night.') An editors' note to this wee trip to Scotland says, 'This trip to Aberdeen remains one of the most mysterious and fascinating problems in Gissing scholarship'. Well, I may be able to shed a little light:
Scotland operated a system of workhouses and alms-houses, and north-east Aberdeenshire reputedly had the largest contingent of these.
'Buchan, an historic district and earldom at the north-east corner or Aberdeenshire, had one of Scotland's greatest concentrations of parochial poorhouses or almshouses. Many of these appear to have continued in operation after the opening of the Buchan Combination poorhouse in 1869' click. A 'combination poorhouse' was a workhouse shared by two or more parish councils; as with all poor relief accommodation, these were part sheltered housing for the very poor and residential home or hospital for the chronically ill. The alms-houses were small residential units for the chronically ill and elderly overseen by a matron. I suspect George had one of these in mind for Marianne - miles away from London, away from where she might bring him public attention, where she could be supervised - though he would tell himself it was she was being 'cared for'. The alms-houses required rent as the residents generally did not work for their keep, being too infirm to do so. His £1 alimony would pay for it. It was the equivalent of being sent to a nunnery. The Buchan Combination Poorhouse in Maud was the same sort of set up but much larger. click Interestingly - and we must always remember George's love of appropriating and recycling names - one of the biggest suppliers of residential care to the Scottish indigent poor and chronically ill was... 'The Quarrier Foundation' click based in Renfrewshire. George could have heard about this organisation from the Harrisons and done some research, then gone to Aberdeen to look at a place to commit Marianne. '...I shall do my utmost to find some decent place of abode, & make my future remittance contingent on her abiding there.'
However, The Aberdeen Royal Mental Hospital in the city of Aberdeen established in 1800 took in people with mental illness and 'nervous diseases' - epilepsy would have been wedged into either category. (This will give you an idea of what the place was like in the 1930s/40s click) If George had evidence Marianne was living a dissolute or immoral lifestyle but failed to obtain a divorce he could have moved to get her committed to a mental asylum as 'morally insane' click Such thoughts may very well have crossed his mind throughout their relationship, because epilepsy carried such a stigma and was so little understood. He often writes of her as if he considers her to be mentally unstable - but George thought anyone who disagreed with him was suspect in the sanity department. Chillingly, we have to remember Edith and wonder what part he played in having her sectioned. Institutionalising women who did not fit in or comply with societal norms was always a strong feature of mental health services right through to the late twentieth century - Marianne would not be in a strong position to argue.
It would be fair to assume George met up with Marianne at some time to discuss this incident, if only to wallow in the satisfaction of making her feel even worse than she already did. He could very well have threatened her with Aberdeen if he could prove any sort of guilt on her part. Imagine how terrified she would have been, and, consequently, how pliant. To be banished to a faraway place where you know no-one and have no understanding of the culture - a positively medieval punishment for anyone especially for a 25 year-old, is it not? I've been to Aberdeen - it's lonely, has a tiny population, and is fierce in winter; even today it is backwoods country - very, very far from the sort of life Marianne would have enjoyed: the British equivalent of being sent to Siberia -(sorry, Aberdeen ;). As George destroyed his Diaries for this time, we don't know if something similar was undertaken in order to intimidate her. And, if this was the impetus for him to reduce her alimony by 25% then he will have dealt with her harshly. George was always particularly hard on women. It was not a new phenomenon: The American Notebook is riddled with misogyny and that was put together while he was still a teenager.
On October 18th he writes this to Algernon:
'I have seen Poole today... He wishes me to put evidence in succinct form, & let him have it. Has no doubt about success. Accordingly, I saw my official acquaintance this afternoon, & he comes to me next Tuesday, with evidence put down. I shall then see Poole again, - But surely it will be his business to see the witnesses & take their evidence?'.
On October 30th, a paragraph in a letter to Alg: 'Sorry to say further difficulties have sprung up on the legal matter. Poole desires clearer evidence than we can offer - a proof of his bona fide. So my friend the inspector is doing what he can.' Now, is it me, or does this seem to be referring to a plot to groom, even manufacture, a witness? The phrase 'proof of his biona fide' suggests to me there is someone in the pipeline who will act as a witness (probably for pay) against Marianne but the solicitor doesn't trust this person and may even by now be suspecting the whole thing has been concocted. Stop for a moment to consider the kind of enterprise George had embarked on: a man who will swear he is Marianne's adulterous lover, is one thing; to claim to be a client who paid for sex is quite another (presumably it would be the latter as the former would be harder to fake). Was there some kind of entrapment enacted to tempt Marianne and catch her taking money for sex? It makes my female blood boil! So, George Gissing, the man who rightly went to prison for the crimes he committed; who returned from America to Marianne's loving arms and married her; who abandoned her when she needed him most through no fault of hers (which he admits in the Letters) - prepared to pay for fabricated evidence that would bring his wife to the precipice of destruction by ruining her good name and labelling her as a whore - a slur that remains to this day? Is this the Heroic Life of George Gissing?
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| Lambeth crowd and policeman 1892 |
To briefly recap: on September 24th 1883 George had a visit from a police sergeant who came to tell him Marianne had been attacked by three men. The policeman was really there because he saw an opportunity to make some money in offering his services as a detective to gather information of a detrimental kind so George could move to divorce her. George tells us this is exactly what he thinks is the reason for the call.
In his letter to Algernon, it is clear George is very disturbed by this - despite him writing 'Don't think this upsets me.' It clearly does, because he has already thought it through and formulated a plan. As we know from his reporting of other personal events, George often underplays things probably to convince himself as much as to reassure others. Seeing something in writing externalises the threat and can give us courage, when faced with momentous challenges.
Had George thought about divorcing Marianne before this? Probably. Sadly, he had no further use for her, so if he was a single man again he could move to find a nice young girl - much as he moved on that adorable tobacconist's daughter, Miss Curtis from Eastbourne, a few months after Marianne's death in 1888 (though no doubt he'd had his eye on that little sweetie for some time and even took Morley Roberts along for a peek at her). In 1883, George was in his prime and understandably needed to satisfy his natural urges. Apart from the odd sexual encounter with Marianne (I suspect he continued enjoy his conjugals when they were separated) he must have longed for the days when he had a woman to both worship and pick up after him, as much as to satisfy his longings for intimacy.
George ends this letter to Alg saying he is going to discuss the matter with Frederic Harrison, his Positivist mentor.
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| The Wounded Puppy by Vittorio Corcos 1899 |
Asking Fred Harrison for advice was an interesting move, and a piece of Machiavellian wizardry both proactive and powerful - albeit in a passive way. Harrison knew many influential people, so if George could get his story in first - Marianne was a wrong 'un who had scuppered his academic career and almost ruined his embryonic literary talent blah blah blah - whatever came out in the press would have already been given the old Gissing spin to Harrison and his influential circle - the people George at that moment wanted to impress. And it gave him the opportunity to gain that precious sympathy he so desperately craved, with the added bonus of being able to describe
Marianne as the catalyst in her own downfall, and so justify his abandonment of her - in case the press asked what a middle class literary lion's wife was doing in such dire circumstances.
If Mrs Harrison had helped Marianne find accommodation when the couple stopped cohabiting, George would already have laid the foundations of blaming Marianne for her own predicament. He knew the Positivist's sympathy would be easy to engage: Harrison would be reminded that, in 1824 the founder of Positivism, Auguste Comte lived in an unmarried union with Caroline Massin; she had been accused of being a prostitute. Later, Comte referred to this ‘marriage’ of 18 years as ‘the only error of my life’(which, if it took 18 years for him to work out, was an indicator he can't have been all that positive he ha). During this period Comte supported himself and his partner by tutoring - which he hated.
Further, by abdicating his responsibility to Harrison for this momentous decision, he could always lay the blame at someone else's feet if his mother and posterity judged him ill for divorcing his wife.
 |
| Joan of Arc at the Coronation of Charles VII by Jean Auguste Dominic Ingres 1854 |
Marianne was attacked in the street at night, when she was alone and vulnerable, but that does not mean she was up to no good when it happened. Everything we know about Victorian men's attitudes to women and working class women in particular are at play. Women were seen as wilful, wild, slightly mad unreliable creatures by most men (most men think the same today). In the nineteenth century, women's vulnerability to criticism based on their gender and sexuality cannot be over-emphasised. Firstly, there is the criticism that George voices about Marianne being in a place 'where she had no business to be' - despite her being a free agent. Women out of doors alone late at night was anathema to the middle-classes, but let's not forget working class women led very different lives, and there were many reasons to be out of doors after midnight. As a chronically ill person in need of medical attention and medication, there could be pressing reasons for having to be out when you have no man to do such things for you. There is no mention in the letter to Algernon what Marianne's explanation was - unless George withheld this information from his brother. If you choose to frame Marianne as debauched you will think she was up to no good. I choose to frame her as a brave woman forced to take care of herself and standing up to, first of all, three predatory males, and then a police station full of male inquisitors. She will have been aware that to make a formal complaint might lead to accusations of prostitution, and yet she still attempted to get justice. I find that rather heroic. Ask yourself: at a time when the whole of Great Britain was debating the topic and harsh penalties had been introduced to address public concerns, would any woman with a guilty conscience risk bringing her 1.30 am plight to the attention of the police? That she wanted to withdraw the charge when at the police station is understandable; many female victims of crime nowadays can't face the gruelling interrogations and investigations into crimes against them.
George reports in a letter of Monday, October 1st that he met with Harrison again but the older man could not recommend a solicitor to handle the divorce, so he asks if Alg knows of someone who can take on the case. He is very worried: the two assailants were discharged when they went to court because of insufficient evidence and he fears these men will come after him for damages. And he hints at a fear of possible extortion: 'who knows what might happen?' He seems to think the hunt for evidence is in train and what is unearthed will settle the matter of Marianne's guilt, and he is prepared to borrow the money from Harrison to finance it. This is October 1st.
 |
| Skull of a girl with a ceramic crown of myrtle. Patras 300-400 BCE |
Scotland operated a system of workhouses and alms-houses, and north-east Aberdeenshire reputedly had the largest contingent of these.
'Buchan, an historic district and earldom at the north-east corner or Aberdeenshire, had one of Scotland's greatest concentrations of parochial poorhouses or almshouses. Many of these appear to have continued in operation after the opening of the Buchan Combination poorhouse in 1869' click. A 'combination poorhouse' was a workhouse shared by two or more parish councils; as with all poor relief accommodation, these were part sheltered housing for the very poor and residential home or hospital for the chronically ill. The alms-houses were small residential units for the chronically ill and elderly overseen by a matron. I suspect George had one of these in mind for Marianne - miles away from London, away from where she might bring him public attention, where she could be supervised - though he would tell himself it was she was being 'cared for'. The alms-houses required rent as the residents generally did not work for their keep, being too infirm to do so. His £1 alimony would pay for it. It was the equivalent of being sent to a nunnery. The Buchan Combination Poorhouse in Maud was the same sort of set up but much larger. click Interestingly - and we must always remember George's love of appropriating and recycling names - one of the biggest suppliers of residential care to the Scottish indigent poor and chronically ill was... 'The Quarrier Foundation' click based in Renfrewshire. George could have heard about this organisation from the Harrisons and done some research, then gone to Aberdeen to look at a place to commit Marianne. '...I shall do my utmost to find some decent place of abode, & make my future remittance contingent on her abiding there.'
However, The Aberdeen Royal Mental Hospital in the city of Aberdeen established in 1800 took in people with mental illness and 'nervous diseases' - epilepsy would have been wedged into either category. (This will give you an idea of what the place was like in the 1930s/40s click) If George had evidence Marianne was living a dissolute or immoral lifestyle but failed to obtain a divorce he could have moved to get her committed to a mental asylum as 'morally insane' click Such thoughts may very well have crossed his mind throughout their relationship, because epilepsy carried such a stigma and was so little understood. He often writes of her as if he considers her to be mentally unstable - but George thought anyone who disagreed with him was suspect in the sanity department. Chillingly, we have to remember Edith and wonder what part he played in having her sectioned. Institutionalising women who did not fit in or comply with societal norms was always a strong feature of mental health services right through to the late twentieth century - Marianne would not be in a strong position to argue.
 |
| Helen of Troy by Anthony Frederick Augustus Sandys c1867 |
On October 18th he writes this to Algernon:
'I have seen Poole today... He wishes me to put evidence in succinct form, & let him have it. Has no doubt about success. Accordingly, I saw my official acquaintance this afternoon, & he comes to me next Tuesday, with evidence put down. I shall then see Poole again, - But surely it will be his business to see the witnesses & take their evidence?'.
On October 30th, a paragraph in a letter to Alg: 'Sorry to say further difficulties have sprung up on the legal matter. Poole desires clearer evidence than we can offer - a proof of his bona fide. So my friend the inspector is doing what he can.' Now, is it me, or does this seem to be referring to a plot to groom, even manufacture, a witness? The phrase 'proof of his biona fide' suggests to me there is someone in the pipeline who will act as a witness (probably for pay) against Marianne but the solicitor doesn't trust this person and may even by now be suspecting the whole thing has been concocted. Stop for a moment to consider the kind of enterprise George had embarked on: a man who will swear he is Marianne's adulterous lover, is one thing; to claim to be a client who paid for sex is quite another (presumably it would be the latter as the former would be harder to fake). Was there some kind of entrapment enacted to tempt Marianne and catch her taking money for sex? It makes my female blood boil! So, George Gissing, the man who rightly went to prison for the crimes he committed; who returned from America to Marianne's loving arms and married her; who abandoned her when she needed him most through no fault of hers (which he admits in the Letters) - prepared to pay for fabricated evidence that would bring his wife to the precipice of destruction by ruining her good name and labelling her as a whore - a slur that remains to this day? Is this the Heroic Life of George Gissing?
 |
| Oedipus and the Sphinx by Gustave Moreau 1864 |
If Marianne was as conspicuous in her community as
George’s detective claimed, wouldn’t there be heaps of evidence around? Not just the physical signs on her person of a dissolute lifestyle, but proof of the sort of behaviour that would shame her and get her banned from decent lodgings, amiable pubs - would get her insulted in the street. Wouldn't Marianne, at some point, have been
arrested and charged? Wouldn't someone close to her lodgings be able to testify to her alleged 'bad character'?
On Saturday, November 24th, George almost hides this paragraph in a long letter to Algernon:
'I regret to have to say that the suit must be given up. Poole was of the opinion that the evidence in connection with the police-court affair was inconclusive. Accordingly I employed the Inspector to look about him for a fortnight, but with no result - save the disbursement of two guineas. That of course could not go on. Well, it matters little. In any case, the weekly payment would have continued, & in other respects, I am entirely independent of the world's judgement.'
And that was that. The Curious Incident of the Police Sergeant in the Night-Time was over.
So, this Inspector (presumably George means the sergeant), in two weeks with access to criminal records, and all the local section beat officers to research leads on who to interview, came up with zilch? That's no neighbours with grievances against her; no 'customers' to say what they had paid for; no-one from the 'neighbourhood' who knew her as 'an habitual drunkard' to complain about her being a sex worker nuisance? No-one from the public-houses regarding her 'as in all respects as a bad character' offering tip offs? And, no criminal record for soliciting or for vagrancy, for being drunk and disorderly in a public place; or for lewd behaviour or begging?
NO. ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.
This event is always passed off as evidence against Marianne: she is portrayed as the one at fault. This, to me, is the real mysterious and fascinating problem at the heart of Gissing scholarship.
On Saturday, November 24th, George almost hides this paragraph in a long letter to Algernon:
'I regret to have to say that the suit must be given up. Poole was of the opinion that the evidence in connection with the police-court affair was inconclusive. Accordingly I employed the Inspector to look about him for a fortnight, but with no result - save the disbursement of two guineas. That of course could not go on. Well, it matters little. In any case, the weekly payment would have continued, & in other respects, I am entirely independent of the world's judgement.'
And that was that. The Curious Incident of the Police Sergeant in the Night-Time was over.
So, this Inspector (presumably George means the sergeant), in two weeks with access to criminal records, and all the local section beat officers to research leads on who to interview, came up with zilch? That's no neighbours with grievances against her; no 'customers' to say what they had paid for; no-one from the 'neighbourhood' who knew her as 'an habitual drunkard' to complain about her being a sex worker nuisance? No-one from the public-houses regarding her 'as in all respects as a bad character' offering tip offs? And, no criminal record for soliciting or for vagrancy, for being drunk and disorderly in a public place; or for lewd behaviour or begging?
NO. ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.
This event is always passed off as evidence against Marianne: she is portrayed as the one at fault. This, to me, is the real mysterious and fascinating problem at the heart of Gissing scholarship.
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