George Gissing: A Fan's Commonplace Blog

Commonplace 219 George & His Leap From Mrs Coward to Mrs Frederic Harrison. PART ONE

Hare as token of Love?

In recent posts (Commonplaces 73 & 74) we looked at the role of Mrs Annie Coward in our man's life. She was the Oakley Crescent landlady with whom he had an adulterous affair - if Morley Roberts is to be believed. 

There had been talk of the Cowards leaving the Oakley Crescent house in the summer of 1884 (possibly because their lease was up?) and so George knew he was going to have to move home. But, he actually left in the May, a few months before the Cowards intended to go. Why did he flit? He gives the rather weak excuse that he had grown too comfortable in the Cowards' home, to the detriment of his work, but were there deeper, darker currents flowing? We can assume George wasn't the only tenant Mrs Coward catered to, and, besides, he had the competition of the Cowards' children to soak up Annie's time, so maybe whatever benefits he received were rationed out on a strict basis of how easy his needs fitted in with her busy schedule. Perhaps he felt neglected, with Marianne aka Nell in Brixton and Annie too busy to cater to his particular, peculiar needs. 

William Morris fabric 

In June 1884, wrote to Frederic Harrison to thank him for his pay cheque, but also to smooth the way over Mr and Mrs Harrison's reading of the newly published 'The Unclassed' which shocked and (possibly) offended them. And, as Harrison was his employer (as tutor to their children) there was every chance his livelihood was at stake, so he needed to do some emotional manipulation to win the precious dose of 'sympathy' he so desperately needed and save his metaphorical (and literal!) bacon.

I must do more than merely acknowledge this cheque. I must ask you to let me try & express something of the gratitude I feel for your persistent kindness, - kindness holding on in spite of everything. I came away to-day feeling very miserable: it all looks so like wanton disregard of your feelings & opinion. Yet in every deed I am open to no such charge. No one ever did me such kindness as you have repeatedly, nor in all likelihood will anyone again; & I feel that more strongly to-day than ever. It is simply my fate to outrage those whom I most respect & would most gladly please. It must be hard for you to believe in my sincerity...I write these social passages in a fury; but I scribbled in precisely the same temper when I was ten years old... If only I could hear someone speak a word for a tendency which is an instinct in me. 
What on earth was he writing about when he was aged ten that merited fury?? Nothing - it just sounds good when you are trying to worm yourself out of a hole, and, as with 'fate' in these early days of psycho-babble, it was easy to blame defects on heritage and not own them as free will gone awry.

Rabbits by Johann George Seitz 1870

Frederic Harrison was his father-figure, but George was already beginning to see - in Freudian terms - the old duffer was no longer King of the Hill; his 'son' had outgrown him intellectually and was now more powerful. As it happened, Fred Harrison had, according to Anthony West's account, already begun to smell a rat where George's 'sincerity' was concerned. The details of his marriage to Marianne aka Nell had been kept a secret, and then when George needed advice and practical help, Harrison felt manipulated and deceived - reactions George would not have anticipated, such was his confidence in his ability to construct believable realities and then punt them on to sympathetic souls. Frederic Harrison was a man of the world - up to a point - but George was never half as clever as he thought he was at dissembling. But Mrs Harrison was a powerful figure in her own right and quite capable of discussing all George's little matters with her husband, even to the point of being able to represent him to her husband as one in need of special understanding and support.

Feeding White Rabbits by Frederick Morgan c 1904

Winning Mrs Harrison over to his cause became vitally important if he was to manage the old man. She represents one of George's first demonstrations of his ability to exploit the innate nurturing tendency in women - a role previously abdicated (he claimed) by his own mother, but previously filled by Marianne, and Annie Coward. And she was probably the first truly middle class English woman with whom he spent social time. We know he was invited to join the family on many occasions and ate with them on the days he was teaching the boys. Some of what he learned about social etiquette and the role of women in society - from an actual off the page of a novel woman's perspective - would have come to him from the way Mrs Harrison conducted herself.

It must be remembered George claimed he was not on good terms with his own mother when Mrs Harrison hove into view, and so he would have responded to her as a child does to a mother - because his own was absent. He may have been an adult professional employee when he was teaching, but in social 'family' time such as meals, he would have 'transacted' as a child. This is a normal piece of intergenerational behaviour between older women and younger men, but might have been of particular significance to George as he was a needy boy his whole life long, one who relied on women to fulfil all manner of roles including completing the useful tasks he set them, plus his emotional wants. In fact, in the social time he spent with the Harrisons, he might well have unconsciously taken on the role of Number One Son - the same place he enjoyed in his own family, now sadly denied him as he had shattered the hopes of the Gissings towards a 'normal' family life with his aberrant behaviour at Owens College. This might explain why the Harrison boys considered George to be great fun as a tutor, and why he was happy to supervise them and entertain them when he joined the Harrisons for holidays.

Madonna With White Rabbit by Titian c 1530

George focused his attentions - not necessarily unconsciously - on persuading Mrs Harrison he was a 'good son', and part of this would have been over-compensating when he thought he might have offended her. He had grossly offended his own mother, so he already knew how badly these things can go when they are not well-managed. Making use of her womanly nurturing traits, he wrote to Mrs Harrison to deflect any anger she might be feeling by making her focus on his health - or lack of it. This is the sort of behaviour we learn as children - partly because children tend to expect others to stop all negative thoughts and punishments in the face of incapacity, but also because we get more tender loving care and more attention for being ill than for being well.

Poor poorly George lays it on with a trowel here in this letter - skillfully bidding to deflect any negative views she might have based on her reading of  'The Unclassed', which he knew was not her cup of tea. Focusing on the hard work of his day job (implying it was her fault, she employed him!), leaving him no energy and time for decent work (again, her fault, she employed him!), not saving him from being alone with his ordeal (her fault again for not anticipating his needs) or supplying tender unconditional loving care (her fault for not spontaneously mothering him properly) then leaving him to wither way almost to nothing (her fault for not rushing round with a sympathetic bosom on which to rest his weary head), all alone in a grotty room with no-one to notice him ailing - that nice Mrs

Coward wouldn't have let that happen! O, the monstrous iniquity of it! Forced to fend for himself, it was a miracle he survived - no thanks to HER, that heartless mother-figure of a woman: Bad Ethel Harrison. He writes:

Young Hare by Albrecht Durer 1505

I fancy this attack will prove the climax. The night before last I had, in addition to the neuralgia, a struggle with what I would think would be called bilious fever, - if the name exists. It is cheerful to be alone under such circumstances. I left my old abode in Chelsea solely because I had grown too friendly with the people in the house, & found it increasingly difficult to force myself to solitary work after the other day's work was over; - the last day or two, however, I have wished myself back again. Still, the worst is over now, & nothing but weakness remains. I am taking quinine each morning, & doubtless it does me good.

This is so rammed full of clever little barbs to hook her in - his health; his lonely life; his lack of tender loving care; his commitment to his Art; his continuing need for sympathy; his symptoms of syphilis - for which he is taking quinine. Of course, this last one would probably have been a mystery to George - by 1884, his disease would have been latent, but the physical afflictions it caused would have been emerging. In Commonplace 64, we covered the time George suffered his attack of paresis when in Cotrone and was treated by Dr Sculco - with the quinine powders George habitually carried. Quinine we know as an anti-malarial, but in the days before the full nature of syphilis had been established it was used for the more systemic conditions that were syphilitic in origin, when mercury was contraindicated. In George's day, there was no cure for syphilis, and the treatment of it was largely based on empirical observation by practitioners who had gained experience of the disease 'in the field'. With the dispersal of armed service personnel throughout the British Empire, much of this knowledge was gained in places where quinine was used to treat many fevers and acute conditions. By the 1920s, quinine treatment for syphilis was mainstream click and was said by some to be more effective than Salvarsan (the so-called 'magic bullet'). It remained the drug of choice for some practitioners up until the development of antibiotic therapy. One of its benefits was the relative lack of visible effects - no smell, no unsightly staining of the skin or 'fauces' click and kind to the 'economy' of the bodily system. It was also less toxic and caused far less permanent damage to the nervous system. Notice here George is not claiming to be treating malaria - hardly, as he is living in north London! - so the quinine was being used for another ailment - something he feared might be serious.

So was his flight from Oakley Crescent because Mr Coward discovered the affair or was it because the signs of syphilis had returned, and George was afraid a scandal might ensue? If visible signs of the disease emerged, experienced types like Frederic Harrison would recognise them and the likes of Mrs Harrison might not want George near her children. This would not be the transmissible, infective form of the disease, but the skin lesions and various physical problems that characterise the later, 'latent' phase. The Cowards might not know what was wrong with him, but might not appreciate the gunge and the mess - the other tenants might complain. And, one of his most significant secrets risked being exposed - just when he wanted to attract attention for his writing. A more private lodging where he could avoid contact with others would allow him to regain his apparent health. Annie, too, would be spared the knowledge she had been sleeping with a man with a chronic disease. 

Venus and Mars by Piero di Cosimo 1515

This letter to Mrs Harrison contains some deeper concerns...

Of course all this only means that the conditions of my life are preposterous. There is only one consolation, that, if I live through it, I shall have materials for darker & stronger work than any our time has seen. If I can hold out till I have written some three or four more books, I shall at all events have the satisfaction of knowing that I have left something too individual in tone to be neglected. What was the nature of this 'darker and stronger material'? His disease process is clearly not phthisis (he wouldn't be taking quinine for that) - he mentions no pulmonary concerns whatsoever. He is 27 years old - so something already known to be progressively debilitating and degenerative is troubling him, otherwise he wouldn't allude to it being potentially likely to cut short his life and his life's work. There really is only one possible diagnosis - given his history. Unless, of course, it was all a mighty scam to gain Mrs Harrison's affections. 


JOIN ME IN PART TWO TO SEE HOW MRS HARRISON MADE USE OF GEORGE!