The Secret Diaries Of Miss Anne Lister

by Helena Whitbread

  Tuesday 15 July [Halifax]

  Got home about 1. Found Miss Grisdale (from Lightcliffe) here… [She] had had one glass of wine & I easily persuaded her to take another.

  Thursday 17 July [Halifax]

  At 11, set off to Halifax in the gig… Called at Shepherd’s, the breech-maker’s, in Southgate & ordered a pair of leather kneecaps to keep my knees warm when I am reading & save me the trouble of having the plaid to lay over them… Went into the stables. The plasterer (William Eden & his young man) had just finished putting the 1st coat of underdrawing & plaster on the stable. Went for a few minutes into the hay field. Saw the 2nd & last load of hay brought in. Came in at 6. Mr Wriglesworth drank tea here. My father & Marian came up after tea & all went away at 8½. Came upstairs at 9.05. Played the flute, by note, till 9¾.

  Friday 18 July [Halifax]

  ½ hour in the stables, (looking after the horses, giving Hotspur oatcake) & just walked a little down the lane to see that the hay-makers were at work. At breakfast from 9½. From 10 to 11.10, sauntered with my aunt into the Allancar to see the hay-makers there, & weeded the quick-wood hedge planted in the winter. Making dye & blacking for the gig after M—’s receipt… Curled my hair. Had it pinched, ready for the evening. Note from Miss Pickford, a line or 2 to say her nephew, Sir Joseph Radcliffe, was come to Savile Hill & she could not walk with me this afternoon. Sent the servant back with my compliments, no answer required. Mean to write her a little note, relative to her question when she last drank tea here, about the funeral rites of the Scythians… At 5¾, down the old bank to Well-head. Got there at 6 by the church. Only the family, Mr & Mrs Waterhouse & their 3 oldest daughters. Speaking of parliamentary elections, said there was no subject on which I felt more warmly. Wished for another contested election & that we might be able to bring in 2 ministerial members. Mr Wortley [the present MP representing Halifax] was likely to have a seat with the peers. Whom should we get in his place? Lord Harwood had not a son fit for it. We did not know whom to mention, but, so far from 2 blue members, Mr Waterhouse feared we should not have one… Sat up talking to my uncle & aunt till 11.50, spiriting up my uncle about the pride of the family, about Shibden, etc… After coming upstairs, began thinking of a contested election & a plan for bringing two blue members. Thought of writing an anonymous [letter] from Bradford (but to be directed to me here) to ask the Chancellor of the Exchequer whom we should choose if Wortley is made a peer. Began building castles about the result of my success, the notoriety it would gain me. An introduction to court. Perhaps a barony, etc. A glass of hot red wine, negus, taken with Mr W. (I never take any) heated me. I thought to myself, how slight the partition between sanity & not. The blood seemed in my head. I was not likely to sleep. I tried to compose myself by thinking [of] that Almighty Being who had created me. I had already said my prayers fervently &, on getting into bed, began repeating the Lord’s Prayer aloud, again & again & for ten minutes, till the tears trickled down my face &, a little after it struck one, fell asleep.

  Saturday 19 July [Halifax]

  The near front gig-spring broken. Sent George off with the gig to Halifax to get it mended… at Furniss’s. 2/6 mending. A new one would be 10/6 or 11/6. A set of new harness, like ours, would be £10. A pair of new reins would be 10/6… Went into the barn a minute or two. Rather frightened about the hay now. It smells of burning & smokes a good deal. Came upstairs at 2.55. Put my hair in twelve curls. In getting up this morning I should have mused again of my electioneering scheme, but I was luckily too busy.

  Sunday 20 July [Halifax]

  Walked 20 minutes on the terras [sic], when a slight shower sent me upstairs. I was musing on having had no letter from M—. I fear she is ill – perhaps in bed with a bilious attack, but she must know my anxiety… Could she not have written one line; or could not Lou have written for her? As I returned from the library on Thursday, & afterwards during dinner (the rest were in the drawing room), I was musing on the good things I had to enjoy. The independence, easy circumstances, & domestic importance, etc., & felt a feeling of happiness that the thought of M— did not break in upon to disturb. On Friday, too, while driving out & as I walked to Well-head in the evening, the same sort of happy feeling made my spirits light. Yesterday, my time was broken into. I had had no letter. I tried to chase away the thought. I dozed in the evening, for my spirit was heavy. Today I am uneasy; I disquiet myself perhaps in vain; my fancy & my thoughts are sick. M— is uppermost in my mind & she has taught me to live without her, yet not without regret. The want of a thousand little delicate notices in her letters, of what I have written & of what she might know I have felt, often makes me fear she has not that fineness, that romantic elegance of feeling that I admire & that she scarcely understands me well enough to make me so happy as perhaps I once too fondly thought. Perhaps I require too much. It must be an elegant mind joint with a heart distilling tenderness at every pore that can alone make me happy. But away! away! ye moody thoughts that crowd on me; for ‘painful thinking wears our clay’. I shall turn for a while to Urquhart’s commentaries on classical learning. O books! books! I owe you much. Ye are my spirit’s oil without which, its own friction against itself would wear it out.

  Tuesday 22 July [Halifax]

  Letter from M— (Lawton) dated yesterday… Wishes me to be circumspect [about the nature of their relationship]… ‘I have a feeling on the subject which no earthly power can remove &, great as the misery which it would entail upon myself might be, I would endure it all rather than the nature of our connection should be known to any human being…’ At 10¾, in spite of the perpetual showers… set off to Halifax… to ask Miss Pickford if she would allow me to drive her to Haugh-end. (George rode Percy.) The Priestleys & Astleys, 2 Miss Butlers, staying in the house, & Mr John Edwards, of Pye Nest, all assembled in the drawing room soon after our arrival… Gave Mrs H. Priestley Mr Marsh’s letter [concerning the subscriptions to the poems of the young woman who had fallen on hard times] to read & she instantly & handsomely gave me her name as a subscriber to Miss King’s poems. Lady Astley would have done the same but Sir John, on reading the letter, thought there was a particular etiquette to be attended to in these sort of applications. That he, as Member for the county of Wiltshire, ought to have been applied to at home (at Everley). The printed names of the subscribers he knew well. Knew many of the people mentioned intimately. If Mr Marsh applied to him, he would be happy to put his name down. Would be happy to do anything to oblige. I might hint this when I wrote… The recent but worthy baronet took some pains to assure me there was a certain etiquette in these matters, as Member for the county, necessary to be attended to. He knew I was aware of this, etc. At this moment (5p.m.) I am smiling quietly at all this importance. It might be a subscription for raising a Wiltshire corps of volunteers, or for some great concern of vital consequence to the interests of the county & its members, instead of a 5 shilling subscription to a small volume of poems, published for the benefit of a poor girl & her family, reduced to indigence by agricultural speculations! ’Tis but a trait, but how biograph of Sir John… The 2 Miss Butlers are vulgar looking girls. Miss Astley seemed much at home with them. Appearances made no very individual distinction between them. I suppose his contested election cost Sir John £70,0004, and he has 12 or 14 thousands a year. Lady Astley said to me when I dined there, ‘Sir John is of a very old family. They were barons in the time of tilts & tournaments.’ Does not the present importance of the house of Everley rest less upon the manners than the money of the family? Perhaps their county is yet but young. But they are very civil to me, & little ween this ink shed of my pen.

  Thursday 24 July [Halifax]

  Went into the hayfield to look after the men. Just changed my dress while they went to their dinner & with them, & sauntering about till 6.10. Went into the Trough-of-Bolland wood to see what trees were pulled, what left to stand. My aunt walked with me to Charles Howarth to order about some jobs to be done tomorrow at the new stable. Then sauntered with m
y aunt along the new road & then returned to the haymakers, saw the Pearson Ing cleared. I had, in the 1st instance, helped James Smith off with some of the hay from the still smoking mow. Found it not quite so bad as I expected. Got a thorough heating. The gardener having come today, begged him of my aunt & sent him into the hayfield… With the gardener & George, we had 15 men & boys at work. All this ordering & work & exercise seemed to excite my manly feelings. I saw a pretty young girl go up the lane & desire rather came over me. In the evening, at 8, my father & Marian came. Staid a little while with them & then went into the garden. Ate some cherries & strawberries & wished them all goodnight in the sitting-room. Came upstairs at 8.50.

  Friday 25 July [Halifax]

  In the evening, read in the European magazine for last month, an additional memoir on the life of Napoleon… Napoleon preferred Corneille to all dramatists. If he had lived in his time, he would have made him a prince. Madame de Staël5 rather too tender to Napoleon. One day, to get quit of her visit, he sent to say he was not quite dressed. She replied, it mattered not, ‘Genius is of no sex.’

  Saturday 26 luly [Halifax]

  At 10¼, went into the stables. The plasterer there (Wm. Eden) painting a darkish drab – quite a wrong colour. Did not sufficiently fill up the worm-eaten holes in the wood. Staid there painting these parts over again myself till 12.40, then called in because Miss Pickford had called… She rather fought off on the subject of Miss Threlfall, then allowed, or rather, encouraged it a little, that I told her she coquetted on this subject, & she did not deny that perhaps she did do so; that my remark was not unjust. We had been talking about being whimmy. I said I believed the people here thought me so. She had heard this, & that I did not go to the Saltmarshes’ so often as I used to do. I excused myself that I really had not time. I said I was more whimmy in speech & appearance than reality. We agreed there were some subjects one could not be whimmy upon. Not, for instance, in early-formed close connections. The tie was strong. Said Miss Pickford, ‘I could not be so, for I know I could break [Miss] Threlfall’s heart.’ I took no notice of this but thought to myself, more than ever, what the connection between them must be. Miss Pickford has read the Sixth Satyr [sic] of Juvenal.6 She understands these matters well enough.

  Monday 28 July [Halifax]

  Called… at Northgate to speak to Thomas Greenwood about a black gig horse, price 50 guineas, to be bought of Illingworth of the Anchor public house. The horse to come here at 4 this afternoon. Thomas had heard from several, Sugden, the horse breaker said he used to see George galloping & lashing the horse thro’ the town & on the moor last winter & people said we must have a very bad groom at Shibden Hall. Thomas did not wish to injure any poor man, any servant, but our horse had looked like [it] all the year. I said I should not bring his name into the business… My aunt & I sauntered down the lane into the hayfields. I told her the black mare had gone lame this morning… (George rode her yesterday to Huddersfield to see his friends at Lascelles Hall). She never went lame before. Did not hint at what I had heard but said, as I have often said before, I was dissatisfied with George as a groom & much wished my uncle would let me hire one myself & have him entirely of my own ordering, then perhaps we might have our horses as we ought to have.

  Thursday 31 July [Halifax]

  Took Miss Pickford into the stable. She thinks the alterations very good. At 8.40, set off to walk with her… Got on to the subject of Miss Threlfall. Went on & on. Talked of the classics, the scope of her reading, etc. & what I suspected, apologizing & wrapping up my surmise very neatly till at last she owned the fact, adding, ‘You may change your mind if you please,’ meaning give up her acquaintance or change my opinion of her if I felt inclined to do so after the acknowledgement she had made. ‘Ah,’ said [I], ‘That is very unlike me. I am too philosophical. We were sent on this world to be happy. I do not see why we should not make ourselves as much so as we can in our own way.’ Perhaps I am more liberal or lax than she expected & she merely replied ‘My way cannot be that of many other people’s.’ Soon after this we parted. I mused on the result of our walk, wondering she let me go so far, & still more that she should confide the secret to me so readily. I told her it would not be safe to own it to anyone else, or suffer anyone to talk to her as I had done. I think she suspects me but I fought off, perhaps successfully, declaring I was, on some subjects, quite cold-blooded, quite a frog. She denied this but I persisted in that sort of way that perhaps she believed it. I shall always pursue this plan. I would not trust her as she does me for a great deal. It will be a famous subject for us & she owns she does not dislike it. I never met with such a woman before. I looked at her & felt oddish, but yet I did not dislike her. It was too dark to analyse each other’s countenances & mine would have betrayed nothing. She will amuse me. I will treat her in her own way, that is, as I should treat a gentleman & this will suit her. She rather looks down, I think, on women in general. This is a foible I can manage well enough.

  Friday 1 August [Halifax]

  At 4, had the black horse, Caradoc, in the gig & drove to Skircoat Moor. Had not been there more than ¼ hour when a car-man said a lady in black had just been inquiring which way I went & she was gone down by the free-school. I followed & soon overtook Miss Pickford. Took her into the gig & made George walk… Our subject, both driving & walking, was Miss Threlfall. I said I knew she could not have made the confession if she had not supposed I understood the thing thoroughly. She answered, ‘No, certainly.’ I dilated on my knowing it from reading & speculation but nothing further. She was mistaken. ‘No, no,’ said she, ‘It is not all theory.’ I told her her inference was natural enough but not correct. Asked if she had heard any reports about me. I said I had only two very particular friends. Miss Norcliffe was out of the question from her manners, habit, etc., & the other, M—, was married which, of course, contradicted the thing altogether. Asked her which of them it could be of whom the report could be circulated. At last she said it was M—. I said I knew the report & should not have cared about it had it not annoyed M—. For my own part I denied it, tho’ Miss Pickford might not believe me. Yet, in fact, I had no objection to her doubting me for, had I had the inclination for such a thing, I should have pleased myself by trying &, could I have succeeded, I should have thought myself very clever & ingenious & that I must be very agreeable, but I must [say], really, Miss Pickford, it seemed, could make herself more agreeable than I could. I wished I had her secret. I dwelt a good deal on having had no opportunity, & the froggishness of my blood. She told me I said a great many things she did not at all believe. Whether she credits my denial of all practical knowledge, I cannot yet make out. However, I told her I admired the conduct of her confession & liked her ten thousand times more for having told me. She was the character I had long wished to meet with, to clear up my doubts whether such a one really existed nowadays. Said she was very agreeable. I just felt towards her as if she were a gentleman, & treated her as such. This seemed to suit very well.

  Saturday 2 August [Halifax]

  In the stable immediately. Stood by while George whisped Caradoc an hour, tho’ he said he had dressed him an hour already. Set John to clean the gig, William to clean the knives & shoes, & George to do his plate that he might go out with me after breakfast… I had previously desired John to be ready to dress the horse immediately while George got ready for dinner. Stood over John while he dressed the horse for 40 minutes. Then saw him fed & the stable swept. Before I got back, I had taught Caradoc to bear the whip playing about him in all directions. Walked him gently up the hills. He went very well, so much improved from yesterday I am quite sanguine about his turning out well.

  Monday 4 August [Halifax]

  Gave John my old, black cloth mantle with a pocket in it that I used to go to Mr Knight in from North Bridge… Wrote… 4pp. & the one p. of a ½ sheet envelope to Miss Marsh… Told Miss Marsh I had asked Mrs Norcliffe for a bed [during the coming music festival at York in the autumn] on hearing she, Miss Marsh,
would have her brother with her &, as the Duffins’ house would be full, she might wish to give ½ her bed to Miss Maria Duffin [niece of Mr Duffin who was coming over from Ireland for the festival].

  Tuesday 5 August [Halifax]

  At 11, took George in the gig & set off to Haugh-end… All the girls at home with the addition of ‘Captain’ Butler, a very good sort of vulgar, quondam captain of an Indiaman. The young people did not appear till luncheon. Sir John Astley franked my letters… & they went in the Haugh-end letter bag in time for yesterday’s post. Nothing particular in conversation… Sir John is evidently looked up to as an oracle by them all tho’ his responses will never set the Thames on fire by their wisdom. He complimented his wife exceedingly. In fact, she is pretty enough, stylish enough, sensible enough, everything enough, for him. Speaking of the place of family, she observed she always thought the Astleys were an envied family in Wiltshire. ‘My dear,’ said she, ‘They envy me for having got you.’ It is plain enough to me from their manners, etc., that they are not exactly comme il faut with the Wiltshire county society. They have their house in London that Sir Jacob Astley had had & many calls were therefore made upon them by mistake. They returned some – were admitted at one house, the manners of the lady shewed they were not expected & the Astleys took their leave. A party was soon afterwards given by the family & they (the Astleys) were not asked. They do not get on in London society nor, as yet, perhaps, are they likely to do, nor will Miss Astley even after ‘she has been presented’ at court. Lady Astley has not worldly nous enough to keep all these things to herself… Staid till about 3.

  Called at Saville Hill to ask Miss Pickford whether, when she called with me at Haugh-end, she meant to call on Lady Astley or not. Not… We then walked to Halifax… Our chief conversation about Miss Threlfall… I said I considered her connection with her friend a marriage of souls & something more. That if they were on a visit & their friend provided them separate rooms, it would be unnecessary & they would presently defeat this arrangement by being together. Under other circumstances it would have been a wonder that, with beauty, fortune, etc., Miss Threlfall did not marry, but now it was no wonder at all. Asked Miss Pickford if she now understood me thoroughly. She said yes. I said many would censure unqualifiedly but I did not. If it had been done from books & not from nature, the thing would have been different. Or if there had been any inconsistency, first on one side of the question, or the other, but, as it was, nature was the guide & I had nothing to say. There was no parallel between a case like this & the Sixth Satire of Juvenal. The one was artificial & inconsistent, the other was the effect of nature & always consistent with itself. ‘At all events,’ said I, ‘you remember an early chapter of Genesis & it is infinitely better than the thing alluded to there, meaning onanism. This is surely comparatively unpardonable. There is no mutual affection to excuse it.’ Miss Pickford did not say much but seemed satisfied. ‘Now,’ said I, ‘the difference between you & me is, mine is theory, yours practice. I am taught by books, you by nature. I am very warm in friendship, perhaps few or none more so. My manners might mislead you but I don’t, in reality, go beyond the utmost verge of friendship. Here my feelings stop. If they did not, you see from my whole manner & sentiments, I should not care to own it. Now do you believe me?’ ‘Yes,’ said she, ‘I do.’ Alas, thought I to myself, you are at last deceived completely. My conscience almost smote me but I thought of M—. It is for her sake that I first thought of being, & that I am, so deceitful to poor Pic, who trusts me so implicitly… We parted mutually satisfied, I, musing on what had passed. I am now let into her secret & she forever barred from mine. Are there more Miss Pickfords in the world than I have ever before thought of?