Commonplace 209 George & William, & Nell.
On May 17th 1879, five months before her marriage to George, Marianne aka Nell, went to stay with her ‘brother-in-law’, William in his lodgings at Rose Cottage, Wilmslow, Cheshire. George wanted a break from caring for her, a duty he always resented having to do because it forced him to focus his energies onto someone other than himself. He blamed Nell for her illness, the worst element of which was her epilepsy, and very quickly decided he wanted to be rid of her. If you've been sold the notion he martyred himself to care for her - think again. George did all he could to farm her out to hospitals and to live with paid carers; this little holiday with William was right at the beginning of this process. William was a resource he exploited, for his own gains rather than exclusively for Marianne's benefit, so that he could spend time on his writing and doing the sort of thing he wanted to be doing with no dependent to look after. He demonstrated a very similar attitude to his children, getting them out of the way whenever he could and even kidnapping Walter to send to Wakefield against his second wife's wishes, so that the burden of fatherhood wouldn't encumber him.
It is worth stopping and thinking about the
significance of this short holiday, for what it tells us about William's
character, and what it possibly suggests about Marianne's. I do not subscribe
to the lie that Marianne aka Nell was ever a prostitute. There is no evidence
for it, and, considering the times in which she lived, with its focus on vice
and retribution for vice, there would have been evidence of arrests, charges
and penalties for soliciting - and there aren't any. George makes no reference to it, either. There was no evidence in
September 1883 when George was duped into hiring a 'detective' to spy on her
with the view to making a case for divorce, despite the 'detective' being a police
sergeant who was well-paid to follow her, observe her behaviour, and report
back all misdemeanours. In spite of his efforts and being in the sort of place
where searching through police records was a possibility, and regardless of
speaking to her neighbours, local publicans and sundry shop-keepers, the man
could not find anything untoward in Marianne's life - except for dire
poverty, loneliness and the effects of neglect by a husband too selfish to live
with her.
After returning home to George, Marianne maintains
her affectionate relationship with William by asking to be remembered to him in
George's letters, adding her own notes, and making needlework gifts, including
a violin case. In April 1880, when William finally succumbed to pulmonary TB,
Marianne must have been distraught. When his personal effects were being divided amongst
the Gissings, Marianne asked for a small poetry book that she was very fond of.
It is described erroneously in the Heroic biography Vol 1 as The Junior Book of
Poetry, for Schools and Families edited by William Davis - no doubt to
insinuate that Marianne was simple-minded and couldn't have appreciated
anything but children's verse - but it was (see illustration), The Book of Poetry for
Families and Schools - available here for free click.
It was a collection of the very best in contemporary poetry, with an emphasis on life-affirming and uplifting, accessible verse. It contains the Thomas Hood poem 'Tis The Last Rose of Summer. William was a
few days dead when George wrote this to Algernon:
On May 17th 1879, five months before her marriage to George, Marianne aka Nell, went to stay with her ‘brother-in-law’, William in his lodgings at Rose Cottage, Wilmslow, Cheshire. George wanted a break from caring for her, a duty he always resented having to do because it forced him to focus his energies onto someone other than himself. He blamed Nell for her illness, the worst element of which was her epilepsy, and very quickly decided he wanted to be rid of her. If you've been sold the notion he martyred himself to care for her - think again. George did all he could to farm her out to hospitals and to live with paid carers; this little holiday with William was right at the beginning of this process. William was a resource he exploited, for his own gains rather than exclusively for Marianne's benefit, so that he could spend time on his writing and doing the sort of thing he wanted to be doing with no dependent to look after. He demonstrated a very similar attitude to his children, getting them out of the way whenever he could and even kidnapping Walter to send to Wakefield against his second wife's wishes, so that the burden of fatherhood wouldn't encumber him.
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| Tristan and Iseult by Edmund Blair Leighton 1902 |
William obviously got on well with Marianne, which, if we were gullible
enough to believe all that George's biographers write, would seem to be a nigh
on impossible thing for any decent chap to be capable of. They shared a love of
music, not George's snobby stuff, with its emphasis on judging it in terms of
good or bad Art, but with simple heartfelt appreciation. William would have
found a rapt audience for his violin, and he enjoyed performing and liked
social company, so entertaining at home would have come naturally to him.
Marianne had a fine speaking voice - as reported by one of George's relatives
who knew her (I bet that shocked you!) and so she may have accompanied his playing
with singing. As her strength improved, they enjoyed walks together, and
reading poetry. One of Marianne's favourites may have been Thomas Hood's The
Last Rose of Summer, which was set to a traditional Celtic air (click to
hear it). Maybe this was because they were staying at Rose Cottage.
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| The Blind Girl by John Everett Millais 1854-56 |
No doubt Nell and William bonded over their shared health concerns,
and their determination to get well. William was a firm believer in the restorative effects of good food and relaxation, and Nell certainly benefited from having decent meals and not the starvation rations George made them subsist on. William will have had a good idea of how difficult to live with George could be, and no doubt hoped to restore whatever inner strength she had to cope with living with such a critical and demanding partner. But, would William have responded as emotionally freely
as he did to Marianne if he had thought she was ever a prostitute or an alcoholic?
Even as a gesture extended to a legal sister-in-law, this holiday was a huge commitment, and indicative of William's innate human
decency, compassion and unselfishness. Although he was a young man who was not in any
way officially 'bohemian', William was a person not afraid to think for himself, and
follow his own philosophy of life to the extent of acting on his
beliefs, in practical ways. He did not feel uncomfortable with Nell's social class, which makes me wonder if her lowly status has been over-hyped by far from impartial biographers. Whatever Marianne's origins - and these are still a mystery - she must have passed inspection by the landlady, a woman determined to maintain the good name of her establishment - the seat of her financial security. Nell must have been accepted as a believable sister-in-law of posh William. When you read that Marianne was a destitute whore plucked from the mean streets of Manchester by an heroic redeemer - think again!
William gave regular updates on the state of Nell's health, and her recovery. He wrote to George detailing four episodes of convulsions on the first night of her stay, which he attends personally with his landlady. Over the next few weeks, he feeds Marianne up – much as the Wells’ do with George in 1900 and 1901 – and makes sure she enjoys herself. The change of environment, tasty food and free and easy occupation work their magic on Marianne, and the fits tapered off. When she began to pine for George, William had to put a good deal of pressure on him to join them for a few days, reminding his brother how much Nell would get out of such a visit.
Marianne eventually had to go back to London and her man. She had been caring for him long-distance by reminding him (in William's letters) to water the plants and telling him where his socks were, Not unexpectedly, the fits returned when she got home. Stress seemed to trigger the worst of her convulsions, and we will never know how much she suffered under George's dominion. We know he displayed Sado-masochistic tendencies especially where women were concerned, and it would take a woman in robust physical and mental health to withstand him. That he never married a woman who was his equal in terms of match weight (to borrow a boxing term) intellectually, meant he could decimate them in the field of debate - and recall the way Waldron exults his superior physical strength over Phyllis in the posts on George & The Honeymoon - see Commonplaces 107 and 108). He liked tiny women with frail, consumptive aspects - though he was not afraid to wield a big stick or a metal stair rod, if HG Wells' son, Anthony West is to be believed, and if a letter to his brother, Algernon, isn't the joke people take it to be. He tended to think in Darwinian terms about women and with those of a lower social class - with women and the poor being, in his mind, little more than beasts of the field.
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| Peace Concluded by John Everett Millais 1856 |
William gave regular updates on the state of Nell's health, and her recovery. He wrote to George detailing four episodes of convulsions on the first night of her stay, which he attends personally with his landlady. Over the next few weeks, he feeds Marianne up – much as the Wells’ do with George in 1900 and 1901 – and makes sure she enjoys herself. The change of environment, tasty food and free and easy occupation work their magic on Marianne, and the fits tapered off. When she began to pine for George, William had to put a good deal of pressure on him to join them for a few days, reminding his brother how much Nell would get out of such a visit.
Marianne eventually had to go back to London and her man. She had been caring for him long-distance by reminding him (in William's letters) to water the plants and telling him where his socks were, Not unexpectedly, the fits returned when she got home. Stress seemed to trigger the worst of her convulsions, and we will never know how much she suffered under George's dominion. We know he displayed Sado-masochistic tendencies especially where women were concerned, and it would take a woman in robust physical and mental health to withstand him. That he never married a woman who was his equal in terms of match weight (to borrow a boxing term) intellectually, meant he could decimate them in the field of debate - and recall the way Waldron exults his superior physical strength over Phyllis in the posts on George & The Honeymoon - see Commonplaces 107 and 108). He liked tiny women with frail, consumptive aspects - though he was not afraid to wield a big stick or a metal stair rod, if HG Wells' son, Anthony West is to be believed, and if a letter to his brother, Algernon, isn't the joke people take it to be. He tended to think in Darwinian terms about women and with those of a lower social class - with women and the poor being, in his mind, little more than beasts of the field.
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| The Long Engagement by Arthur Hughes 1859 |
Kindest regards from Nell. She has had a recurrence
of very severe fits lately. By the bye, she says she should extremely like, as
a memento if Will, who was so kind to her, that little Davis' Poetry Book he
had. Do you think she could have it sent to her some day?
Her champion had gone and Marianne aka Nell was
truly alone in the world. I wonder if she realised her own days were numbered?
William did such extraordinary things with his short and never easy life, and
he behaved with decency, generosity and modesty.
George's biographers have him down as some sort of priggish, dull Mr
Normal, but he really was a very exceptional chap who turned words into actions
and made his own way despite his disadvantages. Unlike his older brother, he did
not think the world owed him anything. In a multiverse/parallel universe click I
hope he is living with Marianne and both are in the pink, in an existence full
of music and happiness.
When George wrote to Algernon on August 8th 1881 he mentioned the gravestone put up for William: 'I am glad to hear you like the memorial which has been put up at Wilmslow. The very plainest & simplest in such cases is always the best, if there must be one at all. I personally should prefer none at all, but that is a matter of opinion & sentiment.' We learn from the editors' footnotes that William's gravestone read: 'William Whittington Gissing - Died April 16th 1880 - aged 20 years.'
George did not pay for a headstone for Marianne; this has been left to her well-wishers to provide. The cemetery is in Blackshaw Road, Lambeth. Her grave number is 731 3J CONS.
When George wrote to Algernon on August 8th 1881 he mentioned the gravestone put up for William: 'I am glad to hear you like the memorial which has been put up at Wilmslow. The very plainest & simplest in such cases is always the best, if there must be one at all. I personally should prefer none at all, but that is a matter of opinion & sentiment.' We learn from the editors' footnotes that William's gravestone read: 'William Whittington Gissing - Died April 16th 1880 - aged 20 years.'
George did not pay for a headstone for Marianne; this has been left to her well-wishers to provide. The cemetery is in Blackshaw Road, Lambeth. Her grave number is 731 3J CONS.
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