The Secret Diaries Of Miss Anne Lister

by Helena Whitbread

  Thursday 16 March [Halifax]

  Came upstairs at 6.10. Talking to Isabella near ½ hour. She was furious at my being so proud. Never knew anyone have so much pride. She could not bear it. She was not fit to be here. Would not soon get herself into the scrape again. Did not suit my uncle & aunt. She saw it plainly. At last she came round & got right again. Oh, how glad I shall be when she has gone. Heaven be thanked, she is to be off tomorrow week. Can they really be so fond of having her at Croft? The time she is out of bed is chiefly spent in drinking wine & taking snuff, & my aunt says her hot temper would frighten her if she did not know her so well. Surely Tib cannot long be an acceptable visitor in people’s houses. She is going the way to lose herself a little, by & by, & she takes very near a bottle a day of our hot sherry.

  Wednesday 24 March [Halifax]

  Wrote 1½ p. to M— to ask whether she would give 3½ guineas for Miss Wickham’s spinning wheel (Autis’s patent – now selling at 5 guineas). Took a very little milk & bread while Isabella got a hearty breakfast of coffee, & was off with her in the gig at 7¼. Saw her luggage put on & in the Alexander coach… saw Isabella safely in it, followed as far as Ambler Thorn turnpike, then turned back… & got home at 9½… Sat down to breakfast at 9¾. Not much said about poor Isabel but we are to dine at 2 & relapse into our usual habits directly. I told Tib the other day, when she talked of coming next year, that my uncle was getting old. Liked his own hours & she had better only come once in two years. She took it very well… Poor soul, she does not suit my uncle & aunt… I really did feel a little dullish last night, thinking what a change there would be today & that, after all, I should miss my companion a little. At last, I said I was low & several times turned the conversation into this channel when we were alone. But poor Tib, as I even told her, had less sentiment than I had; she merely seemed to wish to get rid of the subject. Her feelings were never finely acute. Now they are blunted a good deal… Her memory is worse. She tells her stories much oftener over than she used to do, forgetting that she has told us the same again & again. She is growing gradually larger. About an ounce of fire-shovel, burnt, Irish-blackguard snuff & very near a bottle of sherry per day, with nine or ten hours bed, would feed anyone… It does no good to talk about it. Had she been different in these matters, how I could have loved her. Yes, how adored her, had she had that temper & conduct which temperance & good sense might easily have secured. But alas, it has not been so. But yet, in spite of all, I feel a tenderness towards her I could not feel for such another & could forgive in her what I could not in anyone else. But let me leave this subject. It makes my heart ache. I dare not hope she will improve but may she be as happy as such a life can permit. Had Isabel been half she might have been, my affections never could have strayed to M— or to any other. But no more. God bless thee Tib. Our interests are separated forever, but still, when I forget myself, I almost love thee. No, I do not love thee but love thy happiness… 2.10p.m. I have just finished so far of this journal of today. They are clearing my room that I am sitting alone in the drawing-room… I feel rather low. I must turn my mind into another train of thought.

  Once Isabella had gone, Anne began to resume her social round of visiting in the town. She realised that her attitude towards her erstwhile friends in Halifax was the subject of comment and it appears that she was anxious to find out exactly where the trouble lay and, if possible, to repair a few broken friendships.

  Thursday 25 March [Halifax]

  Went to Halifax to the Saltmarshes’. Mrs Rawson staying there. Mrs Kenny calling there & staying some time. Sat her out, apologized for so doing, saying that I really wished to ask Emma a rather singular question, but one I hoped she would at once answer candidly. A yes or no would be sufficient. I wished to know whether she had the same pleasure in seeing me now she used to have. No! she had not, was the honest answer. Everyone said I changed my friends or knew them here but not from home, & she had experienced it herself. She thought as if I wished not to know her at the festival (the first ball-night last September). There were several Halifax people there whom I took no notice of. It was the common quiz, ‘Have you seen Miss Lister? Of course, she will be glad to see you,’ meaning that I should not speak, but Miss Prescott said I had behaved very well to her, for I had spoken to her. Emma said I knew she was very modest and, therefore, when Mr Saltmarshe (Philip) had observed, ‘Now here is someone you know’, meaning me, she waited for me to speak, to see what sort of reception I should give her. Both she & her husband were struck with my coolness, and when I called on her on my return home, I brought my aunt with me & behaved very differently from formerly. Indeed, she had addressed her conversation much more to my aunt than to me. She meant to make a difference in her conduct but was only afraid she had not been able to shew it sufficiently. A friend of mine (she would not tell her name, I think it was Mrs Henry Priestley) said I never knew any of them from home – it would be her turn next. Now I had turned off Mrs Saltmarshe, but she did not care. She supposed I should know her again, by & by. Emma said she denied my having turned her off; for she would not be so turned off and wondered — would submit to it. She confessed she, (Emma), had been hurt about it. She used to delight in seeing me – in hearing the sound of my voice. Her husband had observed what pleasure they used to have in seeing me, but now it was all at an end. She wondered why I called at all, for I was so different from formerly. But her mother had always taken my part. I briefly explained. Said all imputed to me was certainly not intended. What motive could I have for cutting her? She was with her husband, and Mr Saltmarshe (Philip), a person deservedly held in high estimation in the York society. I had not intended to slight any Halifax person I ought to know. I had even, at the expense of much quizzing, made a point of speaking to Mr & Mrs Pollard… The only person in the room I intended to cut was Miss Caroline Greenwood; and Emma had often heard me previously name my intention of doing so & the reasons for it. She owned that she herself & Mr Saltmarshe had cut the Greenwoods. As for changing my friends, there was only one person whom I never [meant] to call on again, Mrs James Stansfield, but she was married. This made a great difference. I should say more but for Mrs Rawson & Emma. She smiled & understood me to mean some dislike to Mr James Stansfield. I said I had long observed a change in Emma’s manner towards [me]. Observed it before the festival, as my journal could testify. I had named it to my aunt & fancied it must be on Mrs Empson’s account, as I had also observed to Miss Norcliffe, but I had continued calling at intervals of a fortnight or 3 weeks, because the change in her conduct had been so gradual I had not had reason to take notice of it & could not bear the thought of seeming fanciful. One thing that struck me was that frequently as she used formerly to ask me to stay dinner or tea, she had not done so for the last year past. I had once or twice staid till just past their dinner hour for the mere purpose of trying whether she would ask me or not. However, I was always candid & open. I would not be thought changeable unjustly, nor could I endure any change or any misunderstanding between us, without doing all I reasonably could to explain it away. I hope she did not think with Mrs Empson that my word might be doubted. No! Indeed she did not. I trusted, therefore, she would believe me on my word, that whatever appearances might have been, I had no intention to behave less kindly or attentively than I had formerly done, & that I only hoped she would be able to adjust the matter to our mutual satisfaction & think no more of it. I fancied there was a starting tear in Emma’s eye as she mentioned the sorrow she had felt about it, & she would forget the business at York. She was expecting company to dinner at 2. I hastened away. Shook hands with her. Then turned back from the room door, shook hands again & saluted her. Then did the same to Mrs Rawson. The people say I am ‘heartless’. I told Emma & Mrs Rawson surely that, at least, was untrue. From the Saltmarshes’ went to the library. Mr Knight there. Asked him to dinner tomorrow. Chancing to say I had not seen him for long, but might have passed him a hundred times, to my surprise he seriously answered I had passed him, he d
id not know whether intentionally or not, but he supposed it was for some fault he had committed. Of course, I expressed my sorrow & truly said I had never knowingly passed him without speaking. But it might happen, I was nearsighted. I had passed my own father, who fancied it done on purpose. ‘Then,’ said Mr Knight, ‘I may be excused for thinking so.’ He did not seem to believe me near-sighted. From the library to Mrs Stansfield Rawson’s. Sat there with Mrs Stansfield Rawson & Catherine about 1½ hour, very comfortably. Mentioned my adventure with Mr Knight saying I was quite shocked he should think me capable of so slighting my old master… Then went to the Waterhouses’. Sat with Mrs Waterhouse 1¼ hour. Slightly mentioned Mrs Saltmarshe’s having thought me changed in my manner towards her & alluded to the common report of my knowing people but not from home, my fickleness, etc. Mrs Waterhouse laughed, said they said she turned off her friends & never went near them, but she never minded. Yet she thought me given to change my friends. Miss Pickford the reigning favourite now, but I had always been the same to her (Mrs Waterhouse). Told her what Mr Knight had said. She answered I often passed her without speaking. I ‘turned my eyes inwards and saw nothing outwards’. They had all observed I had gone out of church oddly some time ago. Had taken no notice of any of them. She had bowed to me in a carriage one morning with —. The lady pointed me out. ‘There is Miss Lister but she never knows me.’ ‘Well, but,’ said Mrs Waterhouse, ‘she will know me, or if she does not, she will the next time.’… We had over the story of my not visiting Mrs Christopher Rawson. She said I was as bad as an officer for taking offence. She cared nothing about these things. But it was my journal that frightened people. She had made up her mind not to open her lips before me. Mrs Rawson, at the Saltmarshes’ had abused my poor journal – wished I would destroy it – it reminded me of a great deal I had better forget. Returned up the old bank; staid a few minutes with the workmen & came in at 6¼. Dressed & sat down to dinner at 6.35. Told my uncle about the adventures of today. Glad the thing had so ended with Emma. From 8 to 9.55, wrote all the above journal of today.

  Tuesday 30 March [Halifax]

  Dawdled over 1 thing or other & from 1¼ to 3.40, wrote 3pp. & the ends (pretty small & close)… to Mrs Norcliffe… I would send 17/– for Burnett to pay Rutter’s for the strong leather boots Isabella brought me, & 3½ guineas on M—’s account to pay Miss Wickham ‘for the spinning-wheel which she (M—) shall be glad to have, provided Miss Wickham will be good enough to take the trouble of seeing it properly packed & sent off’… Speaking of Isabella, ‘The worst thing, the most injurious, is that lying in bed in a morning. The great degree of relaxation produced by this alone is too evident to be mistaken. I told her I should ask you to give Burnett orders to get her up regularly every morning at 9. I told her I should entreat to have the bedclothes taken away, to prevent the possibility of her getting in again and that, if she bolted the door, the bolt should be taken off. She exclaimed against all this. The childishness etc. I grieve over the necessity of the thing, but where life & health are so at stake, ought it not to be done?’

  Thursday 1 April [Halifax]

  Letter from Miss Henrietta Crompton (Micklegate, York)… chiefly an account of the public fancy-ball last Tuesday week in the rooms at York. ‘Mr Fox (of Bramham Park) & Mr H. Fawkes, who have been at most of the splendid things in London, declared it was better managed than anything of the kind they ever saw. Mr Waterton (of Walton, nr Wakefield) who was a complete Indian chief – face stained and ear-rings & necklace of exquisite little birds, assured us it far surpassed Preston Guild!… Miss Charlotte Norcliffe I think looked very handsome as a Polish lady…’ At 11.35, walked with my aunt to Northgate… We all 4 went to the Talbot great room to see the 2 Esquimaux [sic] Indians now exhibiting there. They are man & wife. Have had 1 child but it died. They mean to go back in about a year (having now been 14 months in England) to see their friends, but otherwise would have no wish to go back at all. Their only marriage ceremony a rude dance, or lifting up first 1 leg then the other, which they performed to us on a table, was so ridiculous I could not help laughing. The man got into his boat, threw a couple of darts to shew us how they caught their food, seals, etc. One of the dogs (they have but one here) drew them round the table in a little low sledge just large enough to hold one person. They seem quite happy & like the amusement of being shewn. They don’t know what to do with themselves on a Sunday. The man was very ill about a fortnight ago & has still got a bad cough – now that they take so little exercise, raw meat does not agree with them so well – they take it about half done. They are shewn by a young man who, having been in the Hudson-bay fur company, speaks their language. He has taught them to read a little, for the new Testament has been lately translated in the Esquimaux language. They can speak a very few words of English. There is shewn along with [them] a considerable collection of Esquimaux & Indian habiliments, arms, etc. The vicar & all his party were there.

  Tuesday 6 April [Halifax]

  I shall be rheumatic if I stay here very long. I begin to feel my knees cold again in spite of my leather knee-caps that I always sit in. I have just rubbed them with oil of almonds to soften & keep cold out. I often think I shall not stay here more than I can help. I will go abroad as soon as I can… Had ¼ hour’s nap from which I had just roused myself when Cordingley came up to say Mr Hudson wished to speak to me. My surprise was not small (he had just seen my uncle & was waiting for me in the hall) when he opened by saying he was going to take a great liberty with me. He wished to know in what he had offended me. I had shewn such marks of displeasure in my countenance towards him whenever I saw him, he thought he must have offended me. He had observed it of late – when he saw me at Mrs Stansfield Rawson’s (the last time I called there), once when he had met me in York (last spring with the Cromptons walking in Petergate). He was a public character; might lose his influence by offending me – the influence he ought to have as a clergyman. I think that surely he must be rather besides himself. He begged me not to mention what he had just said. His daughter would be hurt to know he had taken such a liberty. Poor man! I told him truly I was quite unconscious of having shewn any displeasure towards him in look or any other way; that I was near-sighted & stopped long to speak to anyone by the way, but that I had perhaps oftener stopped to speak to him than anyone, as I generally stopt when I met him & could only beg he would believe no displeasure meant, for I had no reason for any, & never did anything without a reason. I hoped he would think no more of it. He said he must be satisfied with my word, & went away not perhaps quite satisfied in his mind. Surely he must be in his dotage. I might have shaken hands with him & been what Isabella would call more liant, but I could not make up my mind to it. I will call on his daughter soon & take care to speak to him more smilingly in future.

  Wednesday 7 April [Halifax]

  Drove to West House (Mr Browne’s). Mrs Kelly at home. Sat with her 40 minutes. She seemed glad to see me but, as I told her, she was never quite at ease & right. The first [time] I saw her I knew she was always wondering whether I should call on her or not. She owned it. I said I would call again & sit an hour with her. Said I had now cut the Greenwoods & we none of us spoke. She asked why. I said I had always told her I should. Their so trifling about with the officers of the Sixth Foot, when here, was enough for me. Besides, there was no reason why I should know disagreeable people & I meant to get rid of them all. Ah, said she, I was a privileged person, but other people could not do these things. Emma had told me she was sometimes rather frightened of me… Mrs Kelly looking very interesting & more than pretty. Very large. To be confined in August.

  Friday 9 April [Halifax]

  At 1.10, set off down the old bank to the post office… In returning gave a shilling to the wife of the man in the old church yard who applied to me about three weeks [ago]. The town, I said, would inquire about him of Mr Knight. He was no impostor & I thought it right not to forget him. The woman looked ill. I felt pleased in giving her the money & only wish I had mo
re to give. A well-speaking woman with a long story of her husband having failed, etc.… I said, I always mean to say in these cases, I have resolved only to relieve those I know. I thought, at last, the woman slightly smelt of spirits.

  Monday 19 April [Halifax]

  No workmen here but Jackman & his 2 sons, who were to be off in the afternoon to see the balloon ascend at 3… Set off to Halifax at about 1¾. The road crowded with people. Called for a few minutes at Northgate. My father & Marian did not go to the Piece Hall to see the balloon & I went to the Saltmarshes’, having promised to go with them. We got there at 3. A great many people there but the place would have held 4 times as many, at least. After waiting 1½ hour, Mr Green at last ascended at 4½. Went up steadily & beautifully & remained in sight 20 minutes. Returned up the old bank & got home at 5½. Had no idea what a business it would be. I had to wind & push my way thro’ one continuous crowd from the Talbot Inn to nearly the top of the old bank (to the lane leading to Bird-cage). The people were returning to the town from the hill, where they had assembled, some said, to the amount of fifty thousand to see the balloon. The High Sunderland range, Bairstow & Beacon Hill range were beautifully studded with spectators. The sight of them was as well worth seeing as that of the balloon. The day was remarkably favourable. People came from far & near & few who could leave home seemed left behind. Not a soul left in the house here but my uncle & aunt… Jenny Hatton & her daughter, from Lightcliffe, were here when I went downstairs the 1st thing this morning. Come to make the drugget for the hall. They are to stay, & stay all night till the thing is finished.