History

Born to the sea, to a woman married to the wine-dark waves between the Dingle Peninsula and the mainland, Nellie had always felt a kinship for the coastal borders that ravaged the land others cherished. But how could one begin to describe the world she had been born into? Born into a mixed, large family that all stemmed from the roots of their mother, Sarah Dollhite — a Fish Lass, evocative and wanted by all who laid eyes upon her, a virtue inherited by Nellie herself, though it would be said that she used such powers in more narcissistic ways. Raised by her older siblings, lead by the hand of her one natural brother, Nellie — known then as Fionnghuala ‘Fy-oon-nela’ — was taught how to survive such wild, untamed lands as she cut her knees on the raw edge of left behind rock surfaces, gnawing her teeth on wood and sand in the process: Nellie had never meant to be but a girl made out of milk and sugar. She ate well when served by her mother’s nurturing hand, she played rough with her brothers and scraped her fingers raw as she combed the front of the coastline for seashells in order to sell onward.

As soon as she had been able to walk on her own two feet it had become apparent that Nellie was independent to the severest degree, though it would be said that it had been her mother who had built the foundation to such a way of life. As a Fish Lass, Sarah Dollhite’s freedom was paramount, her uncorrected boldness a testament to each of her loving offspring, it was by her caring hand that she lead Nellie to the shore to aid her in the sale of freshly caught fish, it is then she who guided Nellie to water — coaxing her to learn how to swim, how to skip over moss covered rocks and sing for her supper. As the years turned over, Nellie grew, soon stretching out of clothes that would become her younger siblings’ by ritual inheritance, donning instead her mother’s old garments that gave her a premature maturity as she skipped the early hours by the sea to instead seek the warmth of the hearth to belt out folk-tunes for the men who lingered by the docks and taverns, as she paraded her natural skill with the flick of dark hair and warmed caramel skin.

Nellie took on the mantle of her sisters with refrain as she tried to teach them how to sew, darn, knit and weave baskets to sell to far off neighbours. She echoed the teachings of her mother as she spun tales of the ocean, of how important it was to embrace the wilderness that loomed on that sacred isle. Between the blanket of ancient beings, history remained as preserved as it had been when first erected in stone monasteries, hillforts and beehives meant to keep the occupation at bay. Still, Nellie could not help but look elsewhere to find the attention she so desired whenever she danced to a merry tune, eventually she could not help but pass over the chance of being but another sea lass in order to take the boats to the mainland in order to sing for her supper at the pubs frequented by working adults with a cup upturned for the odd penny tipped in her direction before taking the last trip back home where she would return to her kin with little to add to the familial pot — for though her skin was different compared to the others bar her older brother Simon, Nellie was no different to anyone else. In fact, if anything, it gave her the courage to stand out.

Beneath the candlelight, a few fair sailors breached the tavern’s walls for nourishment before they took the last boat to the mainland.

There, the story reached its second act.

Nellie, aged but fifteen years old, spoke English to a certain extent — she had grown to understand a sentence whenever one was repeated enough, but mostly she knew little if compared to the natural speaker. Still, when she met a sailor named Colm Duffy, it had been easy to fall without the need for language.

He watched her sing and dance, often being the one to cheer her on for more.
Nellie bartered for him to drink all that he could, to drink more than anyone else in that room.
Their lost tongues translated as an exciting adventure.

By the turn of the morning, Nellie had followed Colm onto their ship like a moth to a flame, promising in a rough hand to be sent by a landlady’s consideration to her mother, that she was to get married, that she would be well, and would return on the morrow with a husband in hand. She would be fine, she had learned all that she could ever come to understand within Dingle, from those fearsome salt-born folk. She would be well.

Colm and Nellie’s wedding was rushed; as if danger lurked around the corner, as if time was of the essence. His kin, a working class family who had once moved from Dublin to Liverpool with the hope of escaping certain hunger, met Nellie with bated breath. As kind and forgiving as they tried to be, Nellie was not wanted. In fear of their son having taken a bride for the sake of boasting rights, who was deployed to the Anglo-Afghan war but a week after their marriage was formalised by a court house. Nellie had never thought to worry about Colm's survival, not because she had thought him strong, brave and healthy but only due to the fact that she had made herself unabashedly busy. With what little coin she was given from her in-laws, she visited the theatre halls where she fell in love with the magic of the stage, where she smothered herself the joy that came from the applause she wanted for herself.

She had been astray when the news had arrived of Colm’s disappearance during the retreat from some far-off world called Kabul, and when she had been told upon her return there were no tears to cry. Instead, she went straight to the courthouse to make sure that she were due a widow’s pension that could propel her onto the path she so desired before she met a man who would change all that she thought but a dream.

Barry Jones had been a Weslhman who played the fiddle and spun sweet sonnets to the pattern of her footsteps — having left a bride at home, he was far from the gilded catch a young woman would want for herself. But he was her next act, and the very image of an escape from the Duffy household. By his side, as some surrogate wife, Nellie went to his cart to travel to Manchester where they wandered as artists before pitching their tents at the Royal Theatre as a poet and actress. Acting as a married couple, Nellie climbs atop the Mancunian stage with bated breath, emerging as Miss Nellie Jones, the name having remained tattooed to her persona ever since.

Though she continues to send money back to her mother, the Fish Lass (alongside letters asking of her siblings and the many other relatives she left behind), it does not take long for her to pocket the extra change in order to sculpt a wardrobe worthy of the dream she pictures laced in gold — costumes and fake jewels in order to look the part, both to stand alongside her ‘husband’ and signify the vision she had always sensed she would embody; velvet, satin, silk and pearls drip with each turn of her body, her arrivals announced by the ring of fake-gold worn on her wrist.

As Nellie becomes one with the characters she takes as her own, it was inevitable that Barry would begin to lose interest — who would’ve thought that a man had preferred a lover entirely taken to him rather than anything else? Well, with her faux-name printed and plastered outside the theatre, even after the fire of ‘42, Nellie continued to play-present till management thought to hire a younger, pretty new face to take the role of Juliet over Nellie’s own ambition. This decision forced Nellie’s foul temper to surface with broken glass and hitch pitched screams that echoed from wall to wall — her fury meeting its final transformation upon finding her lover with the so-called replacement. Having never submitted to the natural act of drowning under pressure, Nellie surged forth with a move South, to a place yet unknown, her trunk splitting at the seams with all that she could carry as she travelled down, down, down… till she met a playwright who swore to save her and make her his upcoming lead. Like a moth to a flame, Nellie followed the call.

Bath had been a beautiful but spotless city that had failed to draw Nellie’s attention, instead she pushed the playwright on with a forceful hand as to turn back towards the glimmering promise of Bristol. It had been to little surprise that as soon as she solidified a place in the acting troupe that she dumped the playwright in order to sway the allure of an up-and-coming poet, Dante Fantoni; a self-proclaimed Italian of full pockets and rich patronage.

Bristol quickly became a haven where Nellie learned to sharpen her skillset, where she signed a wedding certificate to name herself privately as Mrs Fantoni in order to protect both herself and the future of her name. With the aid of a partner they travelled to London for the first time where Nellie was met with constant noise, billowing plumes of grey smog and the glittering promise of what was to come. She certainly fell in love with the city more than the man who carried her trunks and adored Nellie’s every movement. It had been terribly, almost embarrassingly, easy to take advantage of her second husband who thought to write sonnets and passages for her performances at Sadler Wells Theatre. He had been a sensitive, fine soul but never the type to survive the gulping greed of an actress — his real name had been Elliot Shaw, a Bristolian son of a merchant who had struck gold with a God-given talent. He had not meant to lie, not really. But one thing had led to another, and with his admission, he hoped to begin a new life of domestic ease.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

Enraged with having married a stupid man, Nellie knew that she had never and would never be the type of woman to sit by and allow her supposed lovers to lie to her. Working hard between Sadler Wells and Marylebone Theatres, she decided to act as if the marriage was null and void due to his invalid identity — their annulment somewhat made of sugar in a storm, for neither could have afforded the fee to finalise the agreement. Still, if her husband suffocated in the hurricane of their situation, Nellie looked elsewhere as she chased stardom at the newly renovated Drury Lane Theatre, the act of inhabiting a character a welcome affair compared to the strained words that surrounded her daily hours in that small apartment they continued to share, despite her affairs that were gleefully taken home after rehearsals and after-parties.

But nothing can last forever.

Whilst in rehearsal for her Rosalind in As You Like It, the news had spread from mouth to ear that Mr Fantoni had died, or rather committed suicide, at home in the bathtub. The blame fell at her door like the collapse of rubble, cloaking Nellie’s reputation with dirt and chalk dust as she, despite the deafening noise of gossip, turned her attention to the ghost of Nell Gwynne instead, who had been famously intertwined beneath the canopy of Drury Lane after all. Whilst sculpting a persona that she may adopt for herself, she ignored the call of so-called guilt in favour of honing her craft; in order to practise all that she had learned before she was faced with Barry Jones once more. In order to white-wash her married name, she uses his charm and talent to arrange a new life at the Adelphi Theatre.

She learned how to dress, how to act and apply make-up to disguise broken skin marked by violent lovers and rough outpourings of violence between rival actresses. Adelphi itself would become a home away from the infamous Fish Lass. And though Adelphi’s company had been a comfort beyond all that she could have expected, Nellie had never been the type of person to remain in one place for long. With the need to climb further towards the sun, she launched herself towards a patron who supported her move towards the Lyceum Theatre. It was typical, Barry would later explain, that she released her claws as soon as someone needed her.

The London theatres ripple with opportunity, but there are many well known and more talented actors to upstage her ambition. Mixed in with the boredom that lingers behind every corner, Nellie makes the sour decision to live with Barry under a roof of Bohemian lovers. Desperate to suck at his talent, to take all for her own need, they live as a common law wife and husband once more. Their underground apartment on Wellington Street is adorned with known faces and constant music despite the violence that erupts at any given moment — they argue constantly between thrown glass, silverware and screams. Eventually, both at the end of their tethers, they give up.

Or rather, Nellie smells something better.


TIMELINE

1860 Nellie is born in Dingle, County Kerry
1868 Follows Ma to the docks where she aids the Fish Lasses
1870 Begins work as a Basket Girl, using her own woven baskets to sell ornate necklaces sewn together with shells alongside her sisters
1875 Begins singing and dancing at a tavern on the mainland where she meets a sailor, Colm Duffy. He takes her back to Liverpool where they get married before his deployment to Kumani in the aftermath of the Anglo-Ashanti war, where he disappears weeks into their mariage. Lawfully, Nellie becomes a widow
1876 Meets Barry Jones, a Welshman who plays the fiddle and writes pretty sonnets, together they go to Manchester
1877 She begins work at the Prince’s Theatre, Manchester, before she is replaced by a younger model, she leaves Manchester with a playwright for Bath instead
1878 She lives and works in Bath, where she drops the playwright in favour of an up and coming poet, Dante Fantoni.
1879 She marries Dante Fantoni in Bath, before they move themselves to London
1880 They both sign contracts to Sadler’s Wells Theatre, where she fails to get on with management she dabbles in other theatres, she and Fantoni fall out and live apart feigning an annulment when neither can afford an actual divorce
1881 Dante Fantoni supposedly commits suicide, much of the blame ends at her door but she ignores it, the somewhat whispered scandal only heightens her popularity to the crowds. At the end of the year her old lover Barry Jones works alongside her, and she adopts his name to hitch onto his own fame. She and Jones sign up to the Drury Lane troupe
1882 She and Jones move to the Adelphi Theatre
1884 Nellie and Jones break up, she rebounds with a patron who keeps her as a Mistress whilst she performs at the Lyceum Theatre, she breaks up with him when he demands her to stop working
1885 With egos rubbing together, Nellie transfers from the Lyceum to the Prince of Wales theatre
1886 Joins the Victoria Royal Theatre, and at the end of the year she meets Rafael de la Cruz and the two become lovers, they are known for being loud and noisy during their break ups
1887 Nellie leaves the Victoria Royal, and finds herself pregnant by de la Cruz