The Life and Loves of E. Nesbit

by Eleanor Fitzsimons

  It is clear that she was addressing Fabian, although he is not named:

  There, also, on a chair, were the little bags of sweets that you yourself had helped to tie up with red wool for the poor little children with no nice homes and no kind mothers. There were a great many bags, and you looked at them and wished you were a poor little child, so that you might have one for your own.20

  Inevitably, he is caught:

  There was a pulsating, confused horror, then, of people who said they had seen you open the window; there was the red of the sweets on your hands, the stickiness on your little lips that lied and trembled. They said things to you about stealing and prison and thieves—many words many times repeated. They told you how much worse it was to rob the little children, who had no nice homes and kind mothers, than it would have been to take something from your sisters’ tables or your own. And they told you how wicked it was to tell lies. And you had no answer to give. You were very little, you had indeed done this thing, and you were sorry. They beat your little hands that had stolen, and they told you that it hurt them more than it hurt you. Then they put you in the schoolroom, and locked you in, and went away.

  Edith realizes her resilient child, with the passage of time, has forgotten this humiliation, and it is she who feels desperately remorseful for what he has endured:

  I do not think that you forgive or do not forgive. I do not believe that you remember now that quiet room which was your prison, the long hours when for the first time you knew yourself alone. But you remember the sunny garden where you played, were noisy, were happy. You remember, perhaps, hours when your mother was not your gaoler; when she held you not in prison but in her arms that loved you—hours when you were not alone. These other things . . . it is your mother who has them to remember.21

  One young man who threw himself enthusiastically into the planning of Edith’s parties was writer and illustrator Laurence Housman, younger brother to poet A. E. Housman and a graduate of the Lambeth School of Art. They met after Edith wrote to him in October 1892 to tell him how much she had enjoyed his poem “The Corn-Keeper.” He mentioned this in The Unexpected Years (1937):

  One of my kindest and most generous friends in those early days was E. Nesbit, who, when I began contributing to Atalanta wrote asking that we might meet. She was an able and energetic writer of stories for children; but her prose was better than her poetry, and this she did not know. It was, indeed, rather an offence to hint it; and when, after some years of happy association, I said that some poem she had written was “good verse,” she replied with a quiver of indignation mixed with triumph, “That is the first time you have ever praised my poetry!” I did not know that I had been so honest; it was difficult—she hungered for appreciation, and I liking her so much—to remain quite sincere without seeming to be unkind.22

  At that time Housman was living in Kensington with his sister Clemence, an accomplished engraver and novelist. Like many of Edith’s friends, he had lost a parent in early childhood. His mother died when he was just six. His experience of poverty in childhood prompted an interest in socialism, and he too joined the Fabian Society. Many of Housman’s stories explore issues of social justice and reform. Witty, sociable, and brimful of exuberance, he was popular in literary circles and became a regular visitor to Edith’s home. On one occasion he was persuaded to participate in a mock breach of promise trial. Oswald Cox, brother of Harold, dressed as a baby to play the defendant and insisted he was underage; playwright Alfred Sutro played defending counsel; and Oswald Barron acted as the judge. Housman, who played prosecuting council, admitted, “I was quite incapable, in those days, of speaking, except conversationally and I hated the job and did it badly.”23

  He was happier accompanying Edith to John Lane’s legendary tea parties, which were “thronged with literary and artistic notabilities.”24 They also attended the annual “Crab and Cream” suppers held in rooms at the Temple legal district, where they feasted on dressed crabs set out along a long table in the center of the room, followed by Devonshire cream and strawberry jam, all washed down with wine and Benedictine. He joined in enthusiastically when the Blands developed a passion for badminton. Alice Hoatson told Doris Langley Moore that they “became quite respectable players,” although, on one occasion, Housman hit Edith on the nose with his racket and cut her quite badly, an incident he commemorated in a hand-drawn birthday card for her.25

  They collaborated professionally too. Housman designed the title page for A Pomander of Verse (1895) and illustrated “The Ballad of the White Lady” for the English Illustrated Magazine.26 Like Oswald Barron, he had hundreds of ideas for stories and verse, which he was happy to share with her. He allowed her to use an abandoned storyline involving a phoenix that laid an egg in a letterbox. This became The Phoenix and the Carpet. When she sent him a copy accompanied by a note of thanks, he replied:

  It is delightful to find how fruitful small suggestions—mere pegs or stems on which to hang a story—become under the genial breath of your invention. It is so long ago since I proposed the carpet and the phoenix as properties for a magic plot to be woven around, that I had forgotten all about them.

  From 1892 onward, Edith decided to stage a Christmas drama for the children of Hughes Field primary school. Early performances were little more than tableaux, but before long she was writing and producing plays, sewing elaborate costumes, and rehearsing her cast once or twice a week during the months of October, November, and December. Housman became one of her most enthusiastic volunteers, and he found that she could be very demanding: “Hew me in pieces before the Deptford board-school children, and have done with me,” he complained playfully.27 In January 1895 he played the king in Sleeping Beauty, and he was the slave of the lamp in Aladdin the following year.

  Another enthusiastic volunteer was Francis Edward (F. E.) Marshall Steele, general secretary of the Lewisham and Lee Liberal and Radical Club. Steele, a talented orator, made his living teaching elocution and editing books of recitation. The Blackheath Gazette reported that the Lewisham Liberal Club was “full to overflowing” on Sunday, October 10, 1897, “when Mr Marshall Steele gave several of his well known and popular recitals.”28 He encouraged Edith to write verses and recite them as “Miss E. Nesbit.” Noel Griffith remembered them reciting duologues and solos “professionally” at working men’s clubs, private functions, parties, and “smoking concerts.” A favorite duet of theirs was “Un Mauvais Quart d’Heure,” a dialogue by “Fabian Bland.”

  The London Daily News reported on an event in St. James’s Hall in December 1889 and declared that Steele was “possessed of the first essential in a public reciter, a musical and sympathetic voice.” On that occasion he was accompanied by “Miss E. Nesbit, a lady who has assisted him for some time past in entertainments given by them in the suburbs of London and elsewhere.” The reviewer described how “Miss Nesbit, whose delicate and refined manner suffers rather by contrast with that of her more robust companion, gave one or two of her own beautiful compositions, including ‘The Ballad of Splendid Silence.’” It seems the night was a great success: “Both performers were frequently applauded by a fairly large audience, which included one or two well-known representatives of Literary London.”29 In April 1891 they performed at a fundraiser for Freedom, an anarchist newspaper that had been established by volunteers, among them Russian dissident Pyotr Kropotkin and former Fabian Charlotte Wilson.

  Steele found it almost impossible to make a decent living. When Iris stayed with his family she was shocked by how poor they were. Edith was keen to help out, but she needed to do so without embarrassing her friend. She wrote to John Lane, offering:

  Mr Steele and I will come and recite for you.—We will do a dialogue called “Un Mauvais Quart d’Heure,”–by Fabian Bland—if you like. Miss E. Nesbit is my reciting name—and Mr Marshall Steele’s name is here written out in full.30

  She also arranged for him to replace her when she gave up writing political poems for the Weekly Dispatch
. She even encouraged him to write children’s books for the publishers who had brought out her early books. Although he wrote several slight books for children, he never came close to emulating her success.

  Edith dedicated A Pomander of Verse “To My Friend Marshall Steele,” and he wrote “E. Nesbit: an appreciation” for Harper’s Bazaar. He declared:

  She has an artist’s conception of the short story; she never overloads it, she rigidly excludes from it all that is unnecessary, and she chooses for its theme one episode, not a series of episodes which would provide material for a novel of the old three-deckerdimensions.31

  He also insisted: “With the single exception of The Jungle Book, no children’s book of recent years has had success to compare with that of The Wouldbegoods.”32 Every year Steele would write a poem for Edith on her birthday. Friends believed he was desperately in love with her. He certainly threw himself enthusiastically into the production of her Christmas plays.

  On February 16, 1894, a notice in the Kentish Mercury informed readers:

  In aid of the fund for feeding and clothing poor children at Hughes Fields Board Schools, Deptford. A Dramatic performance will be given at the New Cross Public Hall on Wednesday February 21 at 8 p.m. When the following original plays will be acted: A Family Novelette by E. Nesbit and Oswald Barron, and Cinderella,* A fairy play in five scenes by E. Nesbit. Seats 3s, 2s, 1s, and 6d.33

  Edith had decided that, since so much effort was expended on her Christmas plays, a second performance should be staged as a fundraiser. The Blackheath Gazette carried this report:34

  DRAMATIC PERFORMANCE AT NEW CROSS HALL

  At the New Cross Hall on Wednesday evening a dramatic performance was given in aid of the dinner funds of the Hughes Fields Board Schools. The entertainment comprised a farce entitled “A Family Novelette,” the characters being represented by Mr Marshall Steele, Miss Ada Breakell, Miss Rhondda Knight, Mrs E. Nesbit, Mr Willis Utley, and Mr Noel Ledbrook. Some of the situations were extremely laughable, and, despite the fact of the dialogue dragging at times, the production gave great satisfaction. The fairy play, in five scenes, and entitled “Cinderella,” by E. Nesbit, formed Part II of the programme. The parts were all well delineated, the very juvenile “Herald” and the still more juvenile “Fairy Godmother” acting with a confidence and style which would have done credit to much older folk. The proceedings were interspersed with pianoforte selections. The Hughes Street Board School Dinner Fund is now in the third year of its existence, during which period, owing mainly to the untiring efforts of Mrs Bland and her helpers, something over 60,000 meals have been provided for the poor children who attend their schools. Clothing has also been supplied in numerous cases, and it is to be hoped that the entertainment of Wednesday evening will be the means of materially adding to the resources of such a praiseworthy movement.

  The London Daily News also carried a glowing review:

  A Dramatic performance was given last night at the New-cross Public Hall, in aid of the dinner fund of the Hughes Field School. It owed nearly all its success to the labours of Mrs Hubert Bland. This lady, better known as Miss E. Nesbit, was the sole author of one of the pieces played, and the part author of the other. She played in one of them, and, with Mr Marshall Steele, was a stage manager for the entire performance. The first piece, in which her name was associated with that of Mr Oswald Barron in the authorship, was a new and original farce called “A Family Novelette.” It turns on the imaginative extravagance of an amiable pair, whose minds are so steeped in chap serial fiction that they try to shape their lives by its laws. Their niece Angelica (Miss Rhondda Knight) has formed an attachment to an artist, but they think it incumbent on them to throw a baronet in her way. Their goodness of heart, however, makes them repent of the distresses incidental to their scheme; and, though the niece does accept the baronet in the end, it is certainly not their fault. This game of cross purposes between the heart and the head was very happily conceived, and was of the essence of comedy. Miss Nesbit and Mr Marshall Steele sustained parts in this piece with great effect. The fairy play of Cinderella that followed was wholly from Miss Nesbit’s pen. The story was delightfully told, in verse of great beauty, especially in the lyrics. It was delightfully played, mainly by a troop of small children, among whom a whole contingent of little “Blands” held a conspicuous place. Where they occasionally failed in self-possession, their infantine embarrassment was only a charm the more. They were reinforced in the cast by Miss Alice Hoatson and Miss Olive Steele, two young ladies who played the wicked sisters with great spirit and effect.35

  It was “a bitterly cold night,” but it was confirmed in The Sketch that they performed in front of a full house. Iris played Cinderella and “looked the part exactly.” It was also reported that “a tiny child, Miss Rosamund Bland, looked elfish enough for the Fairy Godmother and spoke her lines admirably.” Fabian was the herald: “His self possession was wonderful, and he sang a capital song with so much ‘go’ that an encore was instantly demanded.” Paul played “Second Gentleman” and had a love scene with Marshall Steele’s daughter Enid. Edith accompanied them all on the piano, playing original songs she had composed with Marshall Steele and Oswald Barron. She also donned “a snowy cap and expansive white apron” to play the housemaid in A Family Novelette.

  In January 1986 the play was Aladdin “in five acts, written by ‘Miss E. Nesbit’ and Marshall Steele.”36 Steele adapted Sleeping Beauty the following year and oversaw its staging. The Kentish Mercury reported: “The play went very prettily, and its absurdities were happily hit off to the immense delight of the youngsters.” The purpose of the evening was not forgotten:

  Before the play started we were taken into a classroom at the end of the corridor, where there was an array of dolls all beautifully dressed, scrap books, and sweetmeats, and, still more to the point, articles of clothing. All these things, which were afterwards handed over to the children, had been made or collected by Mrs Bland, Miss Hoatson and Mrs Steele, a labour of love which takes up many weeks during the year. . . . Presently the children began to file into the big class-room to witness Sleeping Beauty [which had been performed in New Cross Hall the previous Spring and raised £29 (approximately £3,800, or USD$5,000, today) for the dinner fund].37

  Hubert’s name is rarely mentioned in connection with these entertainments. In fact he was immensely supportive and utterly committed to the cause. In Fabian Tract No. 120, which was titled After Bread Education: A Plan for the State Feeding of School Children, he condemned the desperate conditions that prevailed in England’s most deprived schools, writing: “No one who has made even the most cursory study of the condition of children in elementary schools can doubt the existence of quite an appalling amount of underfeeding.”38 Within a year, the reforms he had advocated were carried into law, a proud testament to his eloquence and compassion. Edith ended her connection with the Hughes Field school in 1898. According to Alice, Rosamund had contracted a dose of scarlet fever and as a result “everything was moved to a near by neighbour who ran the treat for us.”39 Edith would probably have stepped down regardless. In spring 1900 she left London to move into a magical new home.

  * Cinderella by E. Nesbit was published in play version in 1909 with songs to popular tunes, in a series designed for schools.

  CHAPTER 12

  “THE MEDWAY, WITH THE PSAMMEAD”

  In 1906, an admiring article in the Saturday Evening Post described Edith, who was forty-eight by then, as “the author of some of the very cleverest of recent stories.” It was reported that she “kept up her badminton and whist, pulls a strong oar in a boat and swims quite as well as she rows.”1 That same year The Bookman declared: “she is an enthusiastic ‘outdoor’ woman, and takes great delight in swimming and boating.”2 An active, athletic woman, she walked and ran and was a strong swimmer and an adventurous cyclist, just like her character Diana Redmayne from “The Hermit of ‘The Yews,’” a story included in Man and Maid (1906). She was keen to insp
ire other women. In an article titled “Rational Exercise and Women’s Dress,” in which she insisted “athletics is the natural foe of tight lacing,” she declared:

  Rowing, running, jumping—if girls went in for these with half the enthusiasm of their brothers the Gordian knot of the stay lace would be cut once and for all. They say most women run like cows. How can it be otherwise when their hips are constricted so that all their movement comes from the knees only? How can one jump when one’s lungs are so compressed that one loses one’s wind in the mere spurt preliminary? But here again, let our advanced women say what they will, man has the game in his hands. Let men cease to admire the pinched-up waist, let them encourage athletics among their sisters and sweethearts, and they will have stronger, better, sweeter women for their wives, and healthier mothers for their children.3

  Edith’s good friend Berta Ruck remembered her as “a carpenter, handy with a boat, a swimmer.” She wrote: “I forget how many miles she had once tramped bare-foot for a bet—that was before I met her.”4 Stories of her prowess were occasionally conflated. One newspaper reported: “Adventure is in Mrs Bland’s blood for she ran away as a child to Germany and once walked barefoot from Whitstable to Canterbury for fun.” Boating holidays on the Medway and seaside trips to the Kent coast in the company of a willing band of young acolytes provided her with opportunities to indulge in such activities.

  Edgar Jepson declared: “Wherever they [Edith and Hubert] went, too, their own circle went with them.” Several times each year they would leave London with friends to walk, cycle, or swim in the sea. In Dymchurch Edith liked to “cycle down to the seafront in a billowing garment bearing some resemblance to a tea-gown.”5