Commonplace 155 George & Nell.
With paintings by Henry Charles Bryant (1835-1915). click
Today is the anniversary of Marianne Gissing aka Nell's death.
February 28th 1888 was the day George travelled over to Lambeth to claim his first wife's emaciated corpse. Not that he took her anywhere to lay in peaceful readiness for her burial; not that he carried out any sacred offices to send her on her way to the hereafter. He paid her landlady to do that. Nell, according to George, died in abject poverty with no coal for cooking and heating and only a stale crust of bread to her name. And she had no bedclothes except for a sheet. This sets the scene to sell the idea that, despite regular payments from him, somehow, Nell mismanaged her finances. Which meant George, husband and provider, couldn't be blamed for her predicament. But, it's not rocket surgery to suspect that any discerning landlady would have removed perishables and the like before the next of kin arrived - items of food and coal were not to be wasted if they could be used and no-one would begrudge that. What would the bereaved widower need of these? And no-one lays out a corpse and covers it in blankets and a quilt - do they? Isn't a sheet the usual way to do it? It was in 1888, and in every hospital I ever worked in.
You would think a woman who was addicted to alcohol - which is what George later claimed - would have already sold everything that could be turned into drink. But there were framed prints on Nell's walls that George recognised, presumably from their time of living together. Framed prints of religious scenes and Landseer studies would have some intrinsic value, which is an anomaly that contradicts the usual story, because, though they weren't worth much, they would have been sellable. When you're an addict, don't you pawn or sell everything worth anything, to get even a few pennies, for your fix? According to George, Nell had pawned her wedding ring and he redeemed the pledge. That might look like a sign she had no regard for it, and that she was so depraved as to trade something so sacred, but what else would pawnbrokers take in? Clothes and jewellery were portable and had some transferable value. She had also pawned a winter coat. George presents this as a sign of her depraved state of mind, being as how it was the depth of winter, but isn't it more likely she was too ill to work to pay the pledge or too ill to go out to do it? That winter of 1887-88 was a very cold one with frequent low temperatures and lots of snow click. She had need of that coat, if she was going out. Maybe she was not going out because she couldn't. In 1888, pawnbroking was a perfectly normal way to raise cash - as it still is today - and makes perfect sense if you have any concerns your stuff might get stolen. A pawnbroker's premises would be fortified like a medieval castle, unlike a small back room in a shared house, and whatever of value you had would be safer with 'uncle' (slang for a pawnbroker's) than tucked away in the bottom drawer of your tallboy.
George doesn't mention what happened to his alimony payments in the run up to her death. It's highly unlikely Nell had a bank account, so George paid one of three ways - by postal order which she would cash in at the local post office (which was just around the corner); by cash in person - George could have kept up contact with Nell and seen her regularly to hand over the money and claim any matrimonial services he felt entitled to; payment was made via a third party, such as a solicitor and Nell visited the office to get her money as cash, or someone might drop round with it from the third party's office. If by postal order, maybe Mrs Sherlock cashed them in and took the money for rent and services rendered, then gave Nell what was left. A sick woman required medicine so maybe what was left was spent on this, but, again, would anyone be able to get to the infirmary for her if she couldn't get there herself? And, if there was a few shillings knocking about the room of a dead woman, who is to say no-one else living in the house didn't liberate it, if Mrs Sherlock didn't get to it first? And, if there were any valuables, well, maybe they were claimed to repay financial debts, or as token payment for nursing services rendered.
Maybe George found postal orders and took them back. He wouldn't mention uncashed postal orders in his letters, would he? If he had admitted it, maybe someone would ask why he wasn't monitoring his wife's welfare and keeping an eye on her in case she needed his support. Better to present her as a spendthrift who could have paid for medicines and a doctor if she hadn't wasted all her money on drink. Which is the sort of thing touted by biographers to absolve George of his moral responsibility towards his wife, the woman he knew was chronically ill, and who had no family to support her, who probably couldn't supplement her pittance of alimony with work because she wasn't well enough to earn more than a few coppers; who lived in a single room with no luxuries and couldn't afford any lifestyle choices; who never went on holidays and sat through plays or bought books, or took an after dinner brandy bought in a fancy restaurant, and who couldn't fend off any predatory landlady who sought to exploit her vulnerability. But, then, she had a husband to help her with that, didn't she?
Morley Roberts went with George to view the body, and he scouted ahead to make sure the coast was clear. Was George afraid news of her death was a ruse? And why would he think it was?
Back in 1883, George had been approached by a policeman who claimed Nell was regarded as a 'bad character' in her neighbourhood. How did he know? Because she had been out late at night and on her way through the streets near to her home had been set upon by a gang and assaulted. She went to the police for help and to get the offenders punished. Because she was out late, the policeman assumed she was out at night for immoral purposes. There were lots of reasons she might have needed to be out including to collect medicines from an infirmary, to buy food, or to return home from visiting friends, but the policemen framed her as a wrong 'un, and paid George a visit to offer his services as detective. For pay. George believed what the policemen said, and handed over cash for surveillance services. He was promised enough evidence for a divorce, and off George went to see a solicitor. But, nothing came of it. No evidence against Nell was ever found. Which, if she had any blot on her character, would be extraordinary, because a policeman would have access to a felon's police records, would know the local snitches, and could easily interview the likes of publicans, working girls, disgruntled victims of any destructive or annoying behaviour by a drunken reprobate. Nothing was ever presented. George gave up on the divorce trail, but took the policeman's advice and reduced Nell's alimony by 25% so she had less money to waste if the temptation to become a menace to society reared its ugly head in her. This was an unofficial arrangement because Nell should have gone to court to get a legally binding set amount for her living expenses. As it was, her £1 a week went down to 15/- and it was 15/- when she died from want and disease in 1888. Read all about it in Commonplaces 35-37. That policeman - did he realise George was, in effect, the wrong 'un ex-jailbird of the marriage?? I doubt it, because appearances count for so much in life, don't they?
Perhaps it wasn't fear of exploitation but fear of blackmail that aroused George's suspicions. Imagine the furore if the writer who gave the Victorians 'The Nether World' and 'Workers In The Dawn' had been so mean-hearted and cruel that his neglected, abandoned wife starved and eventually succumbed to a disease made worse by poor nutrition and cold? How would it pan out if someone decided to use that knowledge to squeeze money from George? With a threat of going to the press if he didn't pay up - and this was the sort of story the legendary W T Stead would have loved to make front page news - then George would have been a sitting duck. There would have been a good deal of Nell's friends to come out of the woodwork and add to the outcry - long before the end, these women were critical of the way George neglected his first wife, and paid him visits to make their feelings known. And then there was the truth about his fall from grace at Owens college that might leak out to the press.
Poor George - no wonder he didn't have the balls to knock on the door of 16 Lucretia Street and walk up the stairs to her bare, freezingly cold room. Too much of a mealy-mouthed unheroic wimp to ever do his own dirty work, George sent his stunt double, Morley Roberts, in his place. Roberts reported back the coast was clear - there were no friends lying in wait; no reckoning was coming George's way. And, yet... George Gissing would never be able to claim the moral high ground again. Sneaking into the cloakroom and thieving paltry sums of small change from his chums at Owens College was not the worst of his crimes, and though there is something particularly mean about this sort of act - and stealing is a kind of psychic assault - but it might be explainable in terms of immaturity or stupidity. Shameful as it is to be a thief, and to be a jailbird, there can be mitigating circumstances taken into account. Young people do daft things - that's their job as young people. Old people should cut them some slack - sometimes. Contributing to the suffering of your wife by abandoning her to her fate is such an egregious act, it's no wonder George's biographers prefer to frame Nell for it.
That Nell was blamed for George's crime spree at Owen's College is abominable, but that's the way George's biographers will have it told. There is no evidence she knew he was stealing. Perhaps George rationalized his immoral behaviour, but he was that arrogant that it wouldn't be far fetched to think he considered himself above the law. He must have assumed he was cleverer than his peers - because he fooled them and deceived them until he was caught red-handed. That smacks of a sort of delusional egotism that is every bit as morally bankrupt as the many thefts he committed, but blaming Nell for his actions - or, to be more accurate, allowing others to blame her - in a feeble attempt to make himself look more like Robin Hood and less like a common-or-garden juvenile delinquent is exactly the sort of behaviour that George displayed throughout his life. Self-serving and cowardly; arrogant and quick to let others carry the rap; impulsive, irrational, egocentric and devious; he always considered himself better than other people and that vile word 'aristocratic' dripped from him so readily. Is it 'aristocratic' to be a thief? Of course not - if he had truly wanted to emulate the Greeks, he would have fallen on his sword or taken hemlock, not scuttled off to the States.
The point is, there are other possible explanations that deviate from the Gissing party line touted by lazy biographers who just rehash what previous lazy biographers have written - that Nell brought about her own downfall, and it was nothing to do with the alleged heroic George. Some might argue (you know who you are, and I have the emails to prove it!) that it doesn't matter if Nell is misrepresented. They tell me no-one cares if she is presented as a whore, and a gold-digging drunk who ruined George's life by making herself the centre of his world for a few brief months. Why not blame her for his fall at Owen's College? Why not make her the reason he stole money, did his bird click, and gave up a chance for greater things? Who cares if she is made to carry the can for it? I do, and anyone would who took the time to do some research and failed to find any evidence to back up the claims. Who was there, in 1888, to care what the truth really was?
Nell died of acute laryngitis. It's written clearly on the death certificate, but some biographers still tell us she died of alcohol and syphilis. Acute laryngitis is still a very dangerous and potentially lethal condition that comes on very quickly and can kill in hours - so Nell wouldn't have stood much of a chance. See Commonplaces 49-46 for more information. She had suffered from scrofula (a form of TB) for most of her life, and that would have made the acute laryngitis almost impossible to withstand.
Nell gets a very rough deal from the squad of Gissing biographers who make money from repeating the false claims. In fact, we know very little about her, because George destroyed all his pre 1888 diaries - the ones that might have given us more information. What we do have are the letters, particularly those George exchanged with his brother, William. If you want to find out more about her, read these. They show how likeable and vulnerable she was, and how William would have been a much better mate for her. You'll find references to these letters throughout the blog - particularly Commonplaces 109 and 110. To find out more about Nell's death see Commonplaces 32-34 and 41.
With paintings by Henry Charles Bryant (1835-1915). click
Today is the anniversary of Marianne Gissing aka Nell's death.
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| Birds and Poultry at Portsmouth Market 1883 |
You would think a woman who was addicted to alcohol - which is what George later claimed - would have already sold everything that could be turned into drink. But there were framed prints on Nell's walls that George recognised, presumably from their time of living together. Framed prints of religious scenes and Landseer studies would have some intrinsic value, which is an anomaly that contradicts the usual story, because, though they weren't worth much, they would have been sellable. When you're an addict, don't you pawn or sell everything worth anything, to get even a few pennies, for your fix? According to George, Nell had pawned her wedding ring and he redeemed the pledge. That might look like a sign she had no regard for it, and that she was so depraved as to trade something so sacred, but what else would pawnbrokers take in? Clothes and jewellery were portable and had some transferable value. She had also pawned a winter coat. George presents this as a sign of her depraved state of mind, being as how it was the depth of winter, but isn't it more likely she was too ill to work to pay the pledge or too ill to go out to do it? That winter of 1887-88 was a very cold one with frequent low temperatures and lots of snow click. She had need of that coat, if she was going out. Maybe she was not going out because she couldn't. In 1888, pawnbroking was a perfectly normal way to raise cash - as it still is today - and makes perfect sense if you have any concerns your stuff might get stolen. A pawnbroker's premises would be fortified like a medieval castle, unlike a small back room in a shared house, and whatever of value you had would be safer with 'uncle' (slang for a pawnbroker's) than tucked away in the bottom drawer of your tallboy.
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| Poultry Market, Portsmouth 1878 |
Maybe George found postal orders and took them back. He wouldn't mention uncashed postal orders in his letters, would he? If he had admitted it, maybe someone would ask why he wasn't monitoring his wife's welfare and keeping an eye on her in case she needed his support. Better to present her as a spendthrift who could have paid for medicines and a doctor if she hadn't wasted all her money on drink. Which is the sort of thing touted by biographers to absolve George of his moral responsibility towards his wife, the woman he knew was chronically ill, and who had no family to support her, who probably couldn't supplement her pittance of alimony with work because she wasn't well enough to earn more than a few coppers; who lived in a single room with no luxuries and couldn't afford any lifestyle choices; who never went on holidays and sat through plays or bought books, or took an after dinner brandy bought in a fancy restaurant, and who couldn't fend off any predatory landlady who sought to exploit her vulnerability. But, then, she had a husband to help her with that, didn't she?
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| Portsmouth Market |
Back in 1883, George had been approached by a policeman who claimed Nell was regarded as a 'bad character' in her neighbourhood. How did he know? Because she had been out late at night and on her way through the streets near to her home had been set upon by a gang and assaulted. She went to the police for help and to get the offenders punished. Because she was out late, the policeman assumed she was out at night for immoral purposes. There were lots of reasons she might have needed to be out including to collect medicines from an infirmary, to buy food, or to return home from visiting friends, but the policemen framed her as a wrong 'un, and paid George a visit to offer his services as detective. For pay. George believed what the policemen said, and handed over cash for surveillance services. He was promised enough evidence for a divorce, and off George went to see a solicitor. But, nothing came of it. No evidence against Nell was ever found. Which, if she had any blot on her character, would be extraordinary, because a policeman would have access to a felon's police records, would know the local snitches, and could easily interview the likes of publicans, working girls, disgruntled victims of any destructive or annoying behaviour by a drunken reprobate. Nothing was ever presented. George gave up on the divorce trail, but took the policeman's advice and reduced Nell's alimony by 25% so she had less money to waste if the temptation to become a menace to society reared its ugly head in her. This was an unofficial arrangement because Nell should have gone to court to get a legally binding set amount for her living expenses. As it was, her £1 a week went down to 15/- and it was 15/- when she died from want and disease in 1888. Read all about it in Commonplaces 35-37. That policeman - did he realise George was, in effect, the wrong 'un ex-jailbird of the marriage?? I doubt it, because appearances count for so much in life, don't they?
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| A New Toy |
Poor George - no wonder he didn't have the balls to knock on the door of 16 Lucretia Street and walk up the stairs to her bare, freezingly cold room. Too much of a mealy-mouthed unheroic wimp to ever do his own dirty work, George sent his stunt double, Morley Roberts, in his place. Roberts reported back the coast was clear - there were no friends lying in wait; no reckoning was coming George's way. And, yet... George Gissing would never be able to claim the moral high ground again. Sneaking into the cloakroom and thieving paltry sums of small change from his chums at Owens College was not the worst of his crimes, and though there is something particularly mean about this sort of act - and stealing is a kind of psychic assault - but it might be explainable in terms of immaturity or stupidity. Shameful as it is to be a thief, and to be a jailbird, there can be mitigating circumstances taken into account. Young people do daft things - that's their job as young people. Old people should cut them some slack - sometimes. Contributing to the suffering of your wife by abandoning her to her fate is such an egregious act, it's no wonder George's biographers prefer to frame Nell for it.
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| Cattle by the Roadside 1870 |
That Nell was blamed for George's crime spree at Owen's College is abominable, but that's the way George's biographers will have it told. There is no evidence she knew he was stealing. Perhaps George rationalized his immoral behaviour, but he was that arrogant that it wouldn't be far fetched to think he considered himself above the law. He must have assumed he was cleverer than his peers - because he fooled them and deceived them until he was caught red-handed. That smacks of a sort of delusional egotism that is every bit as morally bankrupt as the many thefts he committed, but blaming Nell for his actions - or, to be more accurate, allowing others to blame her - in a feeble attempt to make himself look more like Robin Hood and less like a common-or-garden juvenile delinquent is exactly the sort of behaviour that George displayed throughout his life. Self-serving and cowardly; arrogant and quick to let others carry the rap; impulsive, irrational, egocentric and devious; he always considered himself better than other people and that vile word 'aristocratic' dripped from him so readily. Is it 'aristocratic' to be a thief? Of course not - if he had truly wanted to emulate the Greeks, he would have fallen on his sword or taken hemlock, not scuttled off to the States.
Nell died of acute laryngitis. It's written clearly on the death certificate, but some biographers still tell us she died of alcohol and syphilis. Acute laryngitis is still a very dangerous and potentially lethal condition that comes on very quickly and can kill in hours - so Nell wouldn't have stood much of a chance. See Commonplaces 49-46 for more information. She had suffered from scrofula (a form of TB) for most of her life, and that would have made the acute laryngitis almost impossible to withstand.
Nell gets a very rough deal from the squad of Gissing biographers who make money from repeating the false claims. In fact, we know very little about her, because George destroyed all his pre 1888 diaries - the ones that might have given us more information. What we do have are the letters, particularly those George exchanged with his brother, William. If you want to find out more about her, read these. They show how likeable and vulnerable she was, and how William would have been a much better mate for her. You'll find references to these letters throughout the blog - particularly Commonplaces 109 and 110. To find out more about Nell's death see Commonplaces 32-34 and 41.
In the end, it matters what lies are told about Nell, because there is a degree of sexism at play, and that must always be resisted. There is no shame in having to survive by selling your body. What is shameful is that people (not just women) have to resort to it because they have no other choices, and because no-one steps in to help. Those who make accusations that Nell was an alcoholic have no proof, but defame her character and destroy her good name to save George's reputation. But it was George who had the criminal record, who destroyed the lives of two wives and blighted his children's upbringing. And he is hailed (by some) as a hero! Nell deserved a better life than the one she got and deserves to be treated in death, with impartial honesty. When it comes to heroism, Nell's the one who can legitimately claim that crown.
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