Still She Wished for Company (1924), Margaret Irwin’s novel of a timeslip between the late Georgian period and the contemporary Nineteen Twenties, is another novel that celebrates its centenary in February. It tells of a modern London office worker, Jan, and an 18th century country house daughter, Juliana. Seemingly they could have nothing in common: except that they sense each other’s presence.
The author is appreciated by supernatural fiction enthusiasts for some subtle ghost stories, most notably ‘The Earlier Service’, an anthology favourite. Her stories in this vein were gathered in Madame Fears the Dark (1935). However, her wider acclaim was as a historical novelist, particularly with her portrayal of the early life of Elizabeth I, Young Bess (1944), and its sequels.
Irwin had used phrases from children’s rhymes for two earlier novels, How Many Miles to Babylon (1913) and Come Out to Play (1914), and Still She Wished for Company takes its title from an eerie children’s story and rhyme, usually known as ‘The Strange Visitor’. It was collected in late Victorian fairy tale books but probably has older origins.
A lonely woman is spinning at her wheel: ‘and still she sat, and still she span, and still she wished for company.’ Then, as if in answer to her wish, a figure appears, in stages, starting with the feet. She remains unperturbed throughout, with the refrain as each part appears, ‘and still she sat, and still she span’ (etc). But when the head appears she puts a series of questions about each of the limbs, until the last question of all: ‘Why have you come here?’ ‘For you,’ is the reply and then the whole scene vanishes.
Irwin’s novel uses several echoes from this chilling tale. Her two young women protagonists are also lonely and longing for a richer life: and their glimpses across time are elusive, so that they have to gradually build up a picture of each other (though not in the literal way of the rhyme). It is also a dark stranger, Juliana’s long-exiled brother Lucian, who adds a sense of menace to the story. Even so, Irwin’s novel is a steadier and gentler work than its brisk, bizarre source, notable instead for its restraint and sustained air of mystery: wisely, Irwin never exactly explains the timeslips.
It is well-known that full length ghost stories are very hard to achieve, but Irwin tells most of the story in the 18th century scenes, thus adding the period interest of her historical novels to the attractions. Another attraction is the sustained visionary quality. Although there are hints of Lucian’s diabolism and dabbling in seances, the novel is not inspired by any specific spiritualistic or esoteric background. Instead, her characters move in a half-lit world of dreams, reveries and visions, alongside their everyday preoccupations. The author creates a wistful, melancholy, poetic atmosphere that takes the book beyond the conventions of the form. I was reminded in some ways of the atmosphere of J Meade Falkner’s The Lost Stradivarius (1895), both books having for their time a slightly old-fashioned feel.
There is an excellent longer discussion of Still She Wished for Company at the blog The City of Lost Books, written in 2019 by Rob Maslen, formerly co-director of the Centre for Fantasy and the Fantastic at Glasgow University. This notices in particular how the book conveys the changing roles of women, and the things that do not change. This is another important element of the novel that gives it a continuing resonance today.
Still She Wished for Company is a well-liked book. There was a Fifties reprint (the easiest hardback edition to find), a Penguin paperback and an edition in the Peacock paperback series for young adults. It was also reprinted in the Chatto & Windus Landmark Library (1968), alongside such as titles as Widdershins by Oliver Onions and Don Tarquino by Baron Corvo. It is a thoughtful, enduring work that has lasted its hundred years well.
(Mark Valentine)
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