Commonplace 48 George & Marianne PART THREE: Marianne and Prostitution.
February 25th is Marianne's birthday.
Anyone who has already dipped into this blog knows I am convinced Marianne aka Nell has had a bum deal from George's biographers - in addition to the bum deal she had from the man, himself. I do not buy the notions she was ever a working prostitute or an alcoholic/drunkard. I simply do not believe what is taken as evidence for these claims is anything of the kind, but is supposition and propaganda, designed to explain why George stole when he was at Owens, and to exonerate him for the way he treated Marianne when he tired of fulfilling the 'in sickness and in health' part of his marriage vows.
In Commonplace 47 we looked at the letters of John George Black. He does not refer to the girl as a prostitute neither does he mention rewarding her for what happened (though I also hold nothing happened at all!) and he refers to her as 'this poor girl'. Now, does he mean poor in terms of lacking money or the other usage - that she is in need of sympathy? Either way, it doesn't sound to me like he is thinking of her as a working girl, because if she was a 'poor girl' that would place him in a bad light for dallying with her when she was vulnerable - added to which she was emotionally upset and clearly unwell when he spent time with her.
Henry Hick refers to her in his 'Recollections': 'I do not know the name of either of his wives. He was much in love with the Manchester girl (Marianne) and had exalted notions of rescuing her from a life of shame.' Odd he should claim to know her 'life of shame' and not know her name! Again, this is hearsay as he never met her, only visited George a few times during the Owens years, and would have heard the gossip from Wakefield, and accounts of the Owens College team's justifications for rusticating him - so, not independent evidence. Or, is it the tendency of the middle classes to think all working class people - women in particular - are vicious? Hick might have closed ranks with his class peers to vilify Marianne - though he stops short if it in his account of the small amount of knowledge he has on the subject.
The Owens College principal says George was living a 'dissolute and immoral life' - after reading the letter John wrote concerning his own and George's penis problems which hint at venereal disease, There is nothing in the letter of February 30th/March 1st 1876 (see Commonplace 47) to definitely prove either of the boys had a full sexual relationship with anyone, including Marianne, or had venereal disease. It is possible, but there are alternative explanations for a sore cock. However, if you think having sex with anyone is wrong outside marriage you might be biased against Marianne - Pierre Coustillas says George and John George Black were having 'immoral relationships' (as he wrote in the Heroic Life) - presumably he means with Marianne. Well, that must be the girl's fault of course. And, we don;t know for sure the girl they both dated was Marianne, do we? We assume it was! What is to say both George and JGB had sex whenever they could - Marianne might very well have 'saved' George from self!
Another piece of nonsense is the the police sergeant who offered to snoop on Marianne who couldn't come up with any evidence she was either a drunk or a working girl/adulteress (the only way George could divorce her was for adultery). See Commonplaces 35-37 for more on this. If this man couldn't - when he had access to police files and had made claims that she was a well-known 'bad character' in her neighbourhood - then that must mean she had no police record and no-one could be found (or bribed!) to testify against her - including her landlady, I presume! Would she not have come to the attention of the courts if she had been such a flagrantly bad egg?
More than any other reason for not accepting Marianne was ever a prostitute is my belief that George would never have exposed his two brothers to that sort of influence - or that his mother would allow it. Both William and Algernon were minors and would have fully come under her control. I doubt either would have rebelled against her wishes to the extent they would have sneaked around behind her back about things. So, if Marianne was such a shaming presence, would the two boys be allowed to stay under the same roof as Marianne - as both did. Let's examine one of these encounters.
During this time, William writes to George of Marianne having four episodes of convulsions on the first night, which he attends with his landlady. He subsequently feeds Marianne up – much as the HG Wells’ do with George in 1900 and 1901 – for William believes, rightly, that one of the pillars of health is adequate nutrition. The change of environment, tasty food and free and easy occupation work their magic on Marianne. Not unexpectedly, the fits return when she goes home.
When you read the tenderness of William's letters, you begin to see the effect Marianne had on people. He never mentions her lower class or any manners or etiquette out of tune with his own tender sensibilities. If she had behaved coarsely or shown signs of commonness or vulgarity, William would not have been so drawn to her in such a genuinely caring way. He was worried she might die in her sleep (from a seizure); he was concerned at how little she ate; he sits up listening for her cries; he ends the letter of May 18th: 'With love from Nell and myself'. Is this how he would have reacted to a reformed prostitute? Would he have spent time alone with her - when she was ailing and even possibly contagious - this man who was a victim of TB himself? Would he have allowed himself to enjoy her company? He makes her fresh egg and milk food supplement drinks - he implores George to write to Marianne and to visit. He gives regular updates on his progress and his successful treatment plan of 'good feeding' and mental stimulation. He delights in welcoming Algernon and George to stay... almost a whole happy family. I have no doubt he will have reported back to mother on how Marianne was not a foul influence on her son, and might one day be welcomed into the home at Wakefield. Do you think this would have happened with a reformed prostitute in a small house? Would William, this upright, fastidious and self-conscious young man have ever offered to expose his landlady to a reformed prostitute? He had a small social circle in Wilmslow, and was trying to support himself by teaching music - would he have jeopardised that? No, he would not.
Scrofula is Tuberculous Cervical Lymphadenitis, a disease first presenting as painless lumps that disfigure the skin and tissues of the neck and face. There is usually inflammation of the eyes and nose, anorexia, persistent cough, haemoptysis, tonsillitis, difficulty swallowing, laryngitis, glossitis (inflammation of the tongue) and feverish, nocturnal fretfulness leading to insomnia. Until the discovery of antibiotics, there was nothing that arrested its progress throughout the whole body as it developed into systemic tuberculosis. TB can set up home in any organ: pulmonary tuberculosis (phthisis) afflicts lungs; Pott’s disease affects the spine, the pain from which could present as rheumatism or pain in the loins, hips and knees. TB affects the liver, the kidneys, and the heart - causing a type of potentially fatal heart condition termed pericardial tamponade (George, himself, may have succumbed to this form of TB, though the evidence would suggest something more systemic and chronic). And, then there is the brain form of TB, causing headaches, organic and functional brain disorder leading to seizures, behavioural changes and problems with bodily systems malfunctioning. Scrofula, usually contracted in childhood, can lay dormant during adolescence, only to re-emerge in immunosuppressed persons in early adulthood. Poor nutrition, psychological stress, environmental factors and exposure to viruses and infections can cause immunosuppression.
February 25th is Marianne's birthday.
“The
cultured person is one who accepts no idea, no statement, without carefully
considering its worth, whose mind is not fettered by prejudice on any matter
whatever, but who tries on every point to see things in the light of simple
reason.” George in a letter to sister Margaret; June 18th 1881.
Woman With Fan by Gustav Klimt 1917 |
What I try to do is offer an alternative way of thinking about Marianne, based on my own interpretation of what is put forward as evidence by biographers who abdicate their responsibility to challenge the received wisdom when they produce work that is simply cut and pasted from previous accounts. Harsh, but fair - you know who you are!
First, let's look at the claim Marianne was a prostitute. All we have to go on is what is in the letters not lost when George destroyed his papers (diaries, etc) for the time Marianne was alive - in itself a highly suspicious act of concealment of guilt, in my opinion - and a few contemporary accounts from the discredited Morley Roberts (whose Henry Maitland is riddled with inaccuracies) and the likes of Henry Hick, George's childhood friend and something of a real brick to him when he needed respite from Edith. He seems to have reluctantly written a brief account of his friendship with George but who admits he has no real proof for anything as he had lost touch with him in the post-Owens years, and did not even know the names of george's first two wives!
Sea Serpents by Gustav Klimt 1907 |
Neither of these associates ever met Marianne in the flesh. Anyone who claimed Marianne was a working prostitute when she met George would have been employing hearsay amounting to gossip - that thing george so despised! There never was any proof to the claim, not even when George was caught red-handed having a girlfriend he took to Southport for a mock honeymoon. I suggest that, if George ever referred to her as such it was in the context of saying 'I want to save her from being a prostitute'. To 'save' means two things in common English parlance: to prevent something happening, and to put an end to something. As in 'I am going to save that plate from falling off the table by moving it', and 'I am going to save myself the trouble of missing the bus by leaving home earlier'. I suggest he wanted to prevent her from descending to being a girl who had to sell herself to men for money, rather than stop her already doing it.
Mother and Child from The Three Ages of Woman by Gustav Klimt 1905 |
Henry Hick refers to her in his 'Recollections': 'I do not know the name of either of his wives. He was much in love with the Manchester girl (Marianne) and had exalted notions of rescuing her from a life of shame.' Odd he should claim to know her 'life of shame' and not know her name! Again, this is hearsay as he never met her, only visited George a few times during the Owens years, and would have heard the gossip from Wakefield, and accounts of the Owens College team's justifications for rusticating him - so, not independent evidence. Or, is it the tendency of the middle classes to think all working class people - women in particular - are vicious? Hick might have closed ranks with his class peers to vilify Marianne - though he stops short if it in his account of the small amount of knowledge he has on the subject.
The Owens College principal says George was living a 'dissolute and immoral life' - after reading the letter John wrote concerning his own and George's penis problems which hint at venereal disease, There is nothing in the letter of February 30th/March 1st 1876 (see Commonplace 47) to definitely prove either of the boys had a full sexual relationship with anyone, including Marianne, or had venereal disease. It is possible, but there are alternative explanations for a sore cock. However, if you think having sex with anyone is wrong outside marriage you might be biased against Marianne - Pierre Coustillas says George and John George Black were having 'immoral relationships' (as he wrote in the Heroic Life) - presumably he means with Marianne. Well, that must be the girl's fault of course. And, we don;t know for sure the girl they both dated was Marianne, do we? We assume it was! What is to say both George and JGB had sex whenever they could - Marianne might very well have 'saved' George from self!
Another piece of nonsense is the the police sergeant who offered to snoop on Marianne who couldn't come up with any evidence she was either a drunk or a working girl/adulteress (the only way George could divorce her was for adultery). See Commonplaces 35-37 for more on this. If this man couldn't - when he had access to police files and had made claims that she was a well-known 'bad character' in her neighbourhood - then that must mean she had no police record and no-one could be found (or bribed!) to testify against her - including her landlady, I presume! Would she not have come to the attention of the courts if she had been such a flagrantly bad egg?
Death and Life by Gustav Klimt 1910-15 |
On
May 17th 1879, Marianne went to stay in Wilmslow with her ‘brother-in-law’,
William. It was a holiday intended to improve the state of her health - she had been suffering from the dreadful effects of scrofula, and her epilepsy had become more debilitating. To give George a break from his role of carer, William took on that role for a few weeks. He exhibited a marked degree of affection and empathy for Marianne, providing her
with what might have been one of the happiest times of her life. Subsequently, Algernon joined them for a few days - and both George's brothers went on to correspond with her and exchange gifts and affectionate remembrances.
During this time, William writes to George of Marianne having four episodes of convulsions on the first night, which he attends with his landlady. He subsequently feeds Marianne up – much as the HG Wells’ do with George in 1900 and 1901 – for William believes, rightly, that one of the pillars of health is adequate nutrition. The change of environment, tasty food and free and easy occupation work their magic on Marianne. Not unexpectedly, the fits return when she goes home.
Adele Bloch-Bauer by Gustav Klimt 1901 |
When you read the tenderness of William's letters, you begin to see the effect Marianne had on people. He never mentions her lower class or any manners or etiquette out of tune with his own tender sensibilities. If she had behaved coarsely or shown signs of commonness or vulgarity, William would not have been so drawn to her in such a genuinely caring way. He was worried she might die in her sleep (from a seizure); he was concerned at how little she ate; he sits up listening for her cries; he ends the letter of May 18th: 'With love from Nell and myself'. Is this how he would have reacted to a reformed prostitute? Would he have spent time alone with her - when she was ailing and even possibly contagious - this man who was a victim of TB himself? Would he have allowed himself to enjoy her company? He makes her fresh egg and milk food supplement drinks - he implores George to write to Marianne and to visit. He gives regular updates on his progress and his successful treatment plan of 'good feeding' and mental stimulation. He delights in welcoming Algernon and George to stay... almost a whole happy family. I have no doubt he will have reported back to mother on how Marianne was not a foul influence on her son, and might one day be welcomed into the home at Wakefield. Do you think this would have happened with a reformed prostitute in a small house? Would William, this upright, fastidious and self-conscious young man have ever offered to expose his landlady to a reformed prostitute? He had a small social circle in Wilmslow, and was trying to support himself by teaching music - would he have jeopardised that? No, he would not.
Portrait of Emilie Floege by Gustav Klimt 1902 |
This brings me to the next allegation - that Marianne was an alcoholic. There is no evidence for this. In fact, George mentions the subject of 'my first wife was an habitual drunk' in a letter to Clara Collet - in a desperate bid to gain Miss Collet's support and sympathy. But, in the same letter, he claims Marianne died in 1881 - when she died in 1888! So, can he be believed? However, I don't believe she was a drinker to excess at all because, when George went to Lambeth to view her body, he tells us Marianne still had perfect teeth. Alcohol quickly erodes tooth enamel - would she have still had perfect teeth if she had drunk herself to death? I think not.
I'm not saying she didn't drink any alcohol at all - in a world where waterborne diseases flourished, it made health sense to drink alcohol - just not to excess; but, the main reason I believe she was never an alcoholic is that Marianne was epileptic. Epilepsy mixed with things like alcohol and some drugs - laudanum, for example - leads to unpredictable, but very bad, results. For a start, it wouldn't take much of either to lower what is termed the 'seizure threshold' and induce a fit.
Convulsions (aka seizures or fits) are sudden, recurrent episodes of sensory disturbance and loss of consciousness generally associated with abnormal electrical activity in the brain. A seizure is an embarrassing and frightening event for sufferer and observer alike, with a range of signs that can easily be misread by persons unacquainted with the disorder. Typical seizures present a range of observable behaviours immediately before unconsciousness sets in, known as a ‘fugue state’. These can appear quite disturbing to the onlooker. There might be evidence of slurred speech, problems with balance, the appearance of stupefaction, and hallucination-like sensations of touch and sight which upset the sufferer and may result in bizarre reactions to stimuli. In the classic grand mal fit there is sudden collapse often resulting in injury producing bleeding wounds (particularly to the head region), frequently accompanied by disturbing, frightening, sounds. Unconsciousness follows, then a process of bodily rigidity, uncontrolled thrashing movements, possible incontinence, and tongue-biting with bloody frothing saliva. Clothes may have become torn or dishevelled, embarrassing for all when undergarments or intimate body parts are inadvertently displayed. Seizures of the grand mal type are usually single events, but in ‘status epilepticus’, the sufferer does not regain consciousness but returns to the restart the fit process perhaps several times. This is often a life-threatening situation due to problems with getting enough air to the lungs. Anyone with, for example, underlying lung disease is particularly vulnerable.
I'm not saying she didn't drink any alcohol at all - in a world where waterborne diseases flourished, it made health sense to drink alcohol - just not to excess; but, the main reason I believe she was never an alcoholic is that Marianne was epileptic. Epilepsy mixed with things like alcohol and some drugs - laudanum, for example - leads to unpredictable, but very bad, results. For a start, it wouldn't take much of either to lower what is termed the 'seizure threshold' and induce a fit.
Convulsions (aka seizures or fits) are sudden, recurrent episodes of sensory disturbance and loss of consciousness generally associated with abnormal electrical activity in the brain. A seizure is an embarrassing and frightening event for sufferer and observer alike, with a range of signs that can easily be misread by persons unacquainted with the disorder. Typical seizures present a range of observable behaviours immediately before unconsciousness sets in, known as a ‘fugue state’. These can appear quite disturbing to the onlooker. There might be evidence of slurred speech, problems with balance, the appearance of stupefaction, and hallucination-like sensations of touch and sight which upset the sufferer and may result in bizarre reactions to stimuli. In the classic grand mal fit there is sudden collapse often resulting in injury producing bleeding wounds (particularly to the head region), frequently accompanied by disturbing, frightening, sounds. Unconsciousness follows, then a process of bodily rigidity, uncontrolled thrashing movements, possible incontinence, and tongue-biting with bloody frothing saliva. Clothes may have become torn or dishevelled, embarrassing for all when undergarments or intimate body parts are inadvertently displayed. Seizures of the grand mal type are usually single events, but in ‘status epilepticus’, the sufferer does not regain consciousness but returns to the restart the fit process perhaps several times. This is often a life-threatening situation due to problems with getting enough air to the lungs. Anyone with, for example, underlying lung disease is particularly vulnerable.
On
regaining consciousness the sufferer may be confused and disoriented and exhibit ‘post- seizure automatism’, a situation leading to socially
inappropriate behaviours, such as removing clothes or interacting in an
uncharacteristically sexually provocative way with strangers. Belligerence and
aggression with swearing and shouting are also possible, pre- and post-seizure.
More often than not, the ignorant will assume the sufferer is paralytically drunk.
We
now know there are many forms of epilepsy that result in a broad range of signs
and symptoms. The causes of epilepsy are largely still a mystery, but damage to
the brain by injury, infection, genetic abnormality, or environmental factors
is often a contributory factor. What might have
caused Marianne’s fits? Some Gissing biographers suggest she suffered from the ‘great
imitator’: syphilis, which is known to damage the nervous system. In referring to this, Pierre Coustillas, in his The Heroic Life of
George Gissing Vol 1 ‘The death certificate ascribed the immediate cause of
the decease to an acute form of laryngitis, but there is no doubt that Nell
succumbed to the combined effects of drink and syphilis’. Morley Roberts says, ‘She died of what I may call, euphemistically, specific laryngitis’, whilst
subsequently implying the real cause was syphilis. Neither biographer has
medical training; neither explains why a doctor would falsify a death
certificate for a destitute nobody by claiming she died of acute or
specific laryngitis when she really died of syphilis. Of course, both biographers
want their readers to sympathise with George, and so Marianne is sacrificed. If
Gissing biographers want Marianne to be worthless, she is termed a whore, and they
go to syphilis as their proof; if they need to see her as a corrosive influence
on Gissing’s creative genius, she is made into a scheming alcoholic. The death
certificate – a legal document - did not give alcoholism or venereal disease as
cause or contributory cause of death,
so we must accept that acute laryngitis ended the heroic struggle for Marianne.
Acute laryngitis is a specific diagnosis and not to be
confused with simple laryngitis. It is sudden in onset, difficult even nowadays
to treat and is still often fatal, particularly for anyone suffering
respiratory problems. And, from what we read in Gissing’s letters, this
diagnosis is entirely consistent with the pattern of Marianne’s medical history.
Avenue in Schloss Kammer Park 1912 |
In recording his
observations of Marianne’s ill-health, Gissing often employs specific terms. In
addition to the convulsions, he writes about Marianne’s rheumatism, abdominal
neuralgia, haemoptysis (spitting blood); tonsillitis, congestion; insomnia;
tumours on her arm and face; toothache; ‘erysipelas-like’ facial lesions;
confusion; weight loss; delirium; headache; and serious eye problems. Of most
significance is the entry for November 3rd 1880. Gissing writes of her
in a letter to Algernon: ‘I hear from her physician she was afflicted when
quite a child with a form of scrofula and that still clings in her system’. And, here we have it: the diagnosis – the credible cause of the seizures and that
lethal ‘acute laryngitis’. Certainly everything listed above is a sign of it.
Detail from the Beethoven Frieze by Gustav Klimt 1902 |
Scrofula is Tuberculous Cervical Lymphadenitis, a disease first presenting as painless lumps that disfigure the skin and tissues of the neck and face. There is usually inflammation of the eyes and nose, anorexia, persistent cough, haemoptysis, tonsillitis, difficulty swallowing, laryngitis, glossitis (inflammation of the tongue) and feverish, nocturnal fretfulness leading to insomnia. Until the discovery of antibiotics, there was nothing that arrested its progress throughout the whole body as it developed into systemic tuberculosis. TB can set up home in any organ: pulmonary tuberculosis (phthisis) afflicts lungs; Pott’s disease affects the spine, the pain from which could present as rheumatism or pain in the loins, hips and knees. TB affects the liver, the kidneys, and the heart - causing a type of potentially fatal heart condition termed pericardial tamponade (George, himself, may have succumbed to this form of TB, though the evidence would suggest something more systemic and chronic). And, then there is the brain form of TB, causing headaches, organic and functional brain disorder leading to seizures, behavioural changes and problems with bodily systems malfunctioning. Scrofula, usually contracted in childhood, can lay dormant during adolescence, only to re-emerge in immunosuppressed persons in early adulthood. Poor nutrition, psychological stress, environmental factors and exposure to viruses and infections can cause immunosuppression.
In
Marianne’s time, treatment for scrofula was ineffectual, bordering on the
iatrogenic. Toxic substances such as antimony; mercury; baryta
(bromide); hemlock; belladonna; and opium were prescribed. Ironically, even in
the eighteenth century, these toxic substances were known to produce seizures and
neurological damage. There
was the option of surgery to remove the disfiguring pustules but this was often
ill-advised as surgical intervention was known to carry the risk of spreading
the disease to other organs.
Marianne’s
end in abject misery is attributed by George's biographers to vicious self-indulgence on her part, but this is grossly unfair, inaccurate and untrue. Marianne died of the complications of scrofula contracted in childhood; it ruined
her relationship with George; it caused her to be cast aside and deserted by a husband too selfish to care enough for the girl he took out of one miserable existence and forced into enduring another. Her heroic struggle outshone his by a mile; no amount of biographers' lies will ever change that. Happy birthday, Marianne.
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