Commonplace 113 George & Love. PART ONE.
'Love and marriage go together like a horse and carriage, This I tell you, brother: you can't have one without the other.' So says Sammy Cahn. But, which is the horse and which the carriage? Think about it: one in the driving seat with all the power; the other being forced to go wherever the driver wants, having to endure whatever is doled out by the one with the whip.
To those who see George as a hapless doofus with a heart of gold who sacrificed a promising academic career to help a young damsel in distress, then romantic love was his undoing. For those who accept what a manipulative, deceitful, self-serving opportunist he really was, doubt is inevitable when it comes to the quality of his attachment to his first, second and third wives. George did love - dead things: dead cultures, dead languages, dead poets/philosophers; but things with heartbeats and pulses left him blank.
You have only to read his excruciating observations of his relationship with his son, Walter, to realise how alien a concept love was to him. Apart from some quasi-sociological guff about child development, and a few random observations written when Walter was a toddler, George doesn't even seem to like his first born until that moment when he gave him away to the Wakefield crowd. Then, of course, George has to manifest paternal love in order to deflect criticism for this cruel act - and then the focus becomes George's suffering, never Walter's or Edith's or baby brother, Alfred's. Here is the Carefully Constructed Legend: poor, pitiable George, missing his boy, sacrificing his own feelings and wants for the good of his first son. Which is, of course, rubbish. George got rid of Walter from the boy's family home to piss off Edith, because he hated her. End of. Anyone who thinks otherwise, is a fool. Did Miss Collet ever fall for it - this 'poor George what a self-sacrificer he is' malarkey? Did Miss Orme? Of course not - unless they were pretending to be dumber than they were (believe it or not, some women do this so as not to present a threat to the male ego. I know - silly, isn't it??).
Perhaps Gabrielle Fleury, did believe it, but she doesn't come across as all that stupid. Perhaps needy, and lonely, kind and trusting - but not stupid.
In line after the shameless exploitation of friends and family; the abuse of two wives; the deceits, manipulation and lies; the shameless emotional cruelty inflicted on his two sons - of all George's grossest examples of the self-serving impulse is his wooing of Gabrielle Fleury. We know this because his letters to her were published in 1964 - in a shocking pink cover with gold lettering. 1964 was a good year for Beat Fiction books click, and a great year for Pop Art so a pink and gold cover would have sung out on the book store shelf. And, in between the copies of what are now, classic '60s novels, the soft porn cover would have tempted browsers to at least dip into the text inside - before delivering a comprehensive disappointment to all but the most strong-stomached fan of the middle-aged, lower middle-class George and his poor little French victim. er, girlfriend.
In order to understand George's modus operandi when it came to wooing a woman, we can turn to an entry in 'George Gissing's American Notebook, Notes - GRG - 1877', a collection of quotes and snippets of information gleaned from his readings. On page 36, George gives us this:
So, this is how George set about wooing his women: passive-aggressively control their thoughts by getting them to feel sorry for you. As a naive and fresh-faced boyish nineteen year-old, this might have been cute; in a mature man, it comes across as manipulative and downright dishonest- if not a smidgeon creepy. If George ever stepped back and thought about it, he might have realised how peculiar it was to begin a relationship with a female by screwing sympathy out of her. And, if he had stepped back and wondered about the moral rightness of this approach, he might have had the insight to blush and stop himself from acting in such a feeble and emasculated way; but, of course, he didn't do that.
In the pink-covered edition of the letters to Gabrielle Fleury, we see from the start the extraordinary, embarrassing, deceitful, manipulative way he set about wooing his third wife.
The background to their initial meeting: In June, 1898, George's received a letter from Edith Gabrielle Fleury, who wanted to translate 'New Grub Street' into French. He replied to her letter on June 23rd, and the old Pity Ploy cranked into action:
Pardon me for replying to you in English. I of course speak French, but have not sufficient practice (sic, tut tut) either in writing or speaking it... I am sorry to be rather late in replying. This is due to a delay in the forwarding of your letter, which has reached me indirectly... I do not live in London, but about 25 miles away, here at the little town of Dorking, in Surrey. The uncertain state of my health forbids me to breathe the air of great cities, and I am able to see very little society. But if it were possible for you (if you cared) to come down to Dorking and have tea with me, I should be very pleased.
Oh, paleeze! The uncertain state of my health?? Not according to the Diaries - he had an insect bite on his hand (naturally, George would make this into a serious health issue), he was writing (unproductively) a play, and evading poor second wife and second son, whilst Edith was desperately trying to find her first son, Walter. He did have a doctor's exam on June 26th, which confirmed what George already knew - he had a touch of phthisis and emphysema. He mentions eczema, and no doubt the heat was giving him gip and making him over-sweat - perhaps it was all nothing more than a touch of syphilis. Anyhoo, it was not something he complained of. And, able to see very little society??? By July 3rd, George was being taught to ride a bike by HG Wells, attended a party with Wells on July 4th, and was doing quite a bit of dining out in people's houses, too - this recluse whose parlous health required sympathy from Gabrielle, and who was virtually housebound. And, then in August, he went to London in the devilish heat to visit his tailor. So, he was fibbing when he said he wasn't well enough to travel to meet her and that he had to avoid big cities. (Incidentally, according to the Diaries, it took George three days to learn how to ride a bike! Pathetic!)
So, Gabrielle made the fateful journey to the dark suburbs and met up with George and then took tea with him. Of course, she wasn't Gabrielle at this point - she was 'Edith' - because that was the name she used until George changed it for her on account of you-know-who being a thorn in his side. Of course, this deception would come back and bite him in the bum because he had to back-pedal like stink to convince Gabrielle his health was excellent and he was healthy enough to survive marriage for a third time, though he accomplished this with another tranche of lies, when she queried it. This was just one of her many concerns - it can hardly be claimed that Gabrielle was in any shape or form, smitten with the stinky old geezer George was in 1898.
So, he met with her and you can almost hear the wheels of his devious little mind whirring in the pages of the Gabrielle Letters. He writes to her at the end of July:
To say that I thank you for your letter is to give you little idea of how it has affected me. It is the kindest and sweetest letter I ever received. I know it by heart, and shall never forget one of its sentences as long as I live. But, - do you know how sensitive I am to kindness from anyone? And what can be the effect upon me of words such as these from a woman whose face has charmed me, whose voice has thrilled me, and in whom I divine something very like my ideal of womanhood?
'...a woman whose face has charmed me'??
HG Wells described Gabrielle as having a mouth like a letterbox, thus betraying his own lack of knowledge of Freudian symbolism, and an obvious want of gentlemanly charm, especially when he was, as my old mother would have said, 'no oil painting' himself. Fortunately, women are not quite as 'lookist' as men and so even George, aged 41 and looking every day of 51, managed to break down Gabrielle's resistance with his persistence - and desperate neediness.
JOIN ME IN PART TWO TO SEE WHAT GABRIELLE MADE OF ALL THIS NONSENSE
'Love and marriage go together like a horse and carriage, This I tell you, brother: you can't have one without the other.' So says Sammy Cahn. But, which is the horse and which the carriage? Think about it: one in the driving seat with all the power; the other being forced to go wherever the driver wants, having to endure whatever is doled out by the one with the whip.
To those who see George as a hapless doofus with a heart of gold who sacrificed a promising academic career to help a young damsel in distress, then romantic love was his undoing. For those who accept what a manipulative, deceitful, self-serving opportunist he really was, doubt is inevitable when it comes to the quality of his attachment to his first, second and third wives. George did love - dead things: dead cultures, dead languages, dead poets/philosophers; but things with heartbeats and pulses left him blank.
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| No Thank You by Roy Lichtenstein 1984 |
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| Ohhh, Alright by Roy Lichtenstein l964 |
In line after the shameless exploitation of friends and family; the abuse of two wives; the deceits, manipulation and lies; the shameless emotional cruelty inflicted on his two sons - of all George's grossest examples of the self-serving impulse is his wooing of Gabrielle Fleury. We know this because his letters to her were published in 1964 - in a shocking pink cover with gold lettering. 1964 was a good year for Beat Fiction books click, and a great year for Pop Art so a pink and gold cover would have sung out on the book store shelf. And, in between the copies of what are now, classic '60s novels, the soft porn cover would have tempted browsers to at least dip into the text inside - before delivering a comprehensive disappointment to all but the most strong-stomached fan of the middle-aged, lower middle-class George and his poor little French victim. er, girlfriend.
 |
| Pink Marilyn by Andy Warhol 1964 |
Of all the paths lead to a woman's love
Pity's the straightest.
This comes from John Fletcher and his collaborators' play The Knight of Malta included in the Fletcher and Beaumont collection of 1647 click for a free copy.So, this is how George set about wooing his women: passive-aggressively control their thoughts by getting them to feel sorry for you. As a naive and fresh-faced boyish nineteen year-old, this might have been cute; in a mature man, it comes across as manipulative and downright dishonest- if not a smidgeon creepy. If George ever stepped back and thought about it, he might have realised how peculiar it was to begin a relationship with a female by screwing sympathy out of her. And, if he had stepped back and wondered about the moral rightness of this approach, he might have had the insight to blush and stop himself from acting in such a feeble and emasculated way; but, of course, he didn't do that.
 |
| Gabrielle and friend |
The background to their initial meeting: In June, 1898, George's received a letter from Edith Gabrielle Fleury, who wanted to translate 'New Grub Street' into French. He replied to her letter on June 23rd, and the old Pity Ploy cranked into action:
Pardon me for replying to you in English. I of course speak French, but have not sufficient practice (sic, tut tut) either in writing or speaking it... I am sorry to be rather late in replying. This is due to a delay in the forwarding of your letter, which has reached me indirectly... I do not live in London, but about 25 miles away, here at the little town of Dorking, in Surrey. The uncertain state of my health forbids me to breathe the air of great cities, and I am able to see very little society. But if it were possible for you (if you cared) to come down to Dorking and have tea with me, I should be very pleased.
Oh, paleeze! The uncertain state of my health?? Not according to the Diaries - he had an insect bite on his hand (naturally, George would make this into a serious health issue), he was writing (unproductively) a play, and evading poor second wife and second son, whilst Edith was desperately trying to find her first son, Walter. He did have a doctor's exam on June 26th, which confirmed what George already knew - he had a touch of phthisis and emphysema. He mentions eczema, and no doubt the heat was giving him gip and making him over-sweat - perhaps it was all nothing more than a touch of syphilis. Anyhoo, it was not something he complained of. And, able to see very little society??? By July 3rd, George was being taught to ride a bike by HG Wells, attended a party with Wells on July 4th, and was doing quite a bit of dining out in people's houses, too - this recluse whose parlous health required sympathy from Gabrielle, and who was virtually housebound. And, then in August, he went to London in the devilish heat to visit his tailor. So, he was fibbing when he said he wasn't well enough to travel to meet her and that he had to avoid big cities. (Incidentally, according to the Diaries, it took George three days to learn how to ride a bike! Pathetic!)
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| Crak! by Roy Lichtenstein 1963 |
To say that I thank you for your letter is to give you little idea of how it has affected me. It is the kindest and sweetest letter I ever received. I know it by heart, and shall never forget one of its sentences as long as I live. But, - do you know how sensitive I am to kindness from anyone? And what can be the effect upon me of words such as these from a woman whose face has charmed me, whose voice has thrilled me, and in whom I divine something very like my ideal of womanhood?
'...a woman whose face has charmed me'??
HG Wells described Gabrielle as having a mouth like a letterbox, thus betraying his own lack of knowledge of Freudian symbolism, and an obvious want of gentlemanly charm, especially when he was, as my old mother would have said, 'no oil painting' himself. Fortunately, women are not quite as 'lookist' as men and so even George, aged 41 and looking every day of 51, managed to break down Gabrielle's resistance with his persistence - and desperate neediness.
JOIN ME IN PART TWO TO SEE WHAT GABRIELLE MADE OF ALL THIS NONSENSE
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