Tuesday 20 April [Halifax]
Drove to West House. Mrs Kelly at home but just going out… Mr Kelly there. I instantly went up & shook hands with him & said I was glad to see him. He looked better (more presentable) than I expected, really very fair. Said how glad he was to see me of whom he had heard his wife speak so often & seemed pleased at the manner in which I had met him. Did the thing make her a little nervous? I saw her blush deeply. Her mother was in the room when I entered but had glided out. Drove off in good style at a quick trot as if I knew what I was about. My new hat & greatcoat on. An India handkerchief around my throat. My usual costume. I wonder what he thought of me. If it was good, she will tell me. He must have been struck one way or other. Then drove to the Saltmarshes’ & sat a full ½ hour with Emma. I told Mrs Rawson this morning I liked her (Emma) better than ever since the explanation business; and so I do. Her manners – who can expect to have the polish of courts? – but she has a kind & affectionate heart & this is everything to me. Told her how I had received Mr Kelly. That she had blushed. How pretty she looked & I had looked round, in spite, to enjoy it. ‘Ah,’ said I, ‘the people round here do not understand.’ ‘No,’ said Emma. ‘Indeed they do not.’ Do not I wish them to do so? ‘Only you know better in future &, be appearances what they may, believe nothing but what I myself say.’
Wednesday 5 May [Halifax]
Washed & changed my pelisse & sat down to dinner a little after 5. My father & Marian here & drank tea with my uncle & aunt. Went out a little after 6 & talked a little while to Jackman & at 6.25, set off to walk to Yew-trees. Mark to go & see the state Sowden left it in. Nothing can be dirtier or in worse condition than the house, except the land, which is terribly run out. Saw Mark’s wife, who looks fitter for the miserably small cottage in the yard, in which they have lived there 15 years, than for the farmhouse which seems so large to her (4 low rooms & 4 chambers over them) she is frightened to live in it by themselves & wanted a couple of cottagers for company… I would not have let such a farm to Mark. My idea was, as I told my uncle, to keep the place in my own hand & let Mark farm it for me till I could let it to my mind…
Monday 10 May [Halifax]
At 9, set off in the gig. Drove Caradoc to Ripponden turnpike &, in returning, got out at Westfield for a couple of hours, to call on Mrs Kelly… Caradoc made a piece of work in passing some caravans in going, and in returning… Mrs Kelly rather indisposed, a little squeamish, yet looked very pretty. She is evidently flattered by my attention… On taking leave, I saluted her left cheek, which I believe I have not been in the habit of doing before & begged her to give my compliments to her mother & say I should be much obliged to her to stop me when she met me, as I should be glad to hear of Mrs Kelly. My manner was not quite so flirting this morning. I am well enough satisfied with it. We were talking of my dress. She said people thought I should look better in a bonnet. She contended I should not, & said my whole style of dress suited myself & my manners & was consistent & becoming to me. I walked differently from other people, more upright & better. I was more masculine, she said, She meant in understanding. I said I quite understood the thing & took it as she meant it. That I had tried all styles of dress but was left to do as I liked eight years ago. Had then adopted my present mode & meant to keep it. She asked how I employed myself. Said to keep up Latin & Greek would take a good deal of time. I spoke of Greek as my favourite language. Mrs Kelly told me a brother-in-law of hers… was out of patience with people setting ladies up as so learned. They none of them knew more than a schoolboy (applying particularly to the classics). Speaking generally, I said I would agree with him. Ladies, in general, have neither time nor opportunity to compete with men of college or liberal education.
Tuesday 18 May [Halifax]
We called at Northgate. Saw Miss Ibbetson’s fine shawls & silks she has just brought from London… At 3¼, set off down the fields to Lightcliffe. Found Mrs Paley & 3 of her children there, Mrs W. Priestley & her cousin & visitor, Miss Hodgson, from Carlisle. Strange to say, in introducing Miss Hodgson, Mrs W. Priestley also introduced her sister, Mrs Paley, forgetting at the moment how often she had heard me say I certainly cut her completely the 1st opportunity, & would not speak to her anywhere. (My aunt called on her in their new house some years ago, 2 or 3?, & she never returned the call.) I scarcely moved on being introduced & kept my word in taking no notice of her whatever. Laughed & talked to Mrs W. Priestley & Miss Hodgson as tho’ nothing was the matter. Sat about an hour, took no notice of Mrs Paley or any of her children in coming away. I spoke to her daughter, aged about 17 or 18, on her entering the room, for I have seen her with Miss Pickford. Mrs W. Priestley came out with me to the gate. I just said the meeting was unlucky. Exprest my sorrow on her account, certainly none on my own.
Wednesday 19 May [Halifax]
Wrote 3pp. to Marian to ask her what my aunt should get to wear this summer; what sort of shawl, & what to wear in the gig. Said, rather than she should be hurried, I would ‘for this time only, if it was necessary’, allow her to delay her next letter a couple of days, i.e. I would wait patiently for it till next Monday. Said I felt rather bilious – that some of the agréments of her society would do me more good than anything. This, & other expressions, quite obscure to others. She will understand.… Isabella sent me, from Croft, The Globe & Traveller of last Friday, containing the account of the death of Lord Byron ‘at Missolonghi, on 19 April, after an illness of ten days. A cold, attended with inflammation, was the cause of the fatal result’. The Greek account says his lordship died ‘about 11 o’clock in the evening, in a consequence of a rheumatic, inflammatory fever, which had lasted for ten days’. 37 min. guns (he was in the 37th year of his age) were ordered to be fired, by sunrise, on 20 April, from the batteries of Missolonghi. All places of amusement, courts of justice, & shops (except provision & medicine shops) ordered to be shut for three days. A general mourning ordered for twenty-one days & funeral ceremonies to be performed in all the churches. The body will be brought to England. ‘The Greeks have requested & obtained the heart of Lord Byron, which will be placed in a mausoleum in the country, the liberation of which was his last wish.’ Came upstairs at 11.05. Who admired him as a man? Yet ‘he is gone & forever!’ The greatest poet of the age! And I am sorry.
Monday 31 May [Halifax]
Went to the Saltmarshes’ again, having to thank Emma Saltmarshe for offering to get my aunt a sealskin shawl, but refusing the offer for the present. Sat about an hour. Very good friends. She very civil, but oh, what a falling-off there was… Emma seemed sadly vulgar as she was shewing me her new pelisse from town that did not fit, & was telling of fashion, & my heart sighed after some better & higher bred companion that it could love. I felt thoroughly low as I walked along… The time seemed but so many seconds so intently yet so moodily was I thinking. I sauntered up the bank… intently thinking still & feeling desolate & unhappy. I cannot dress like the rest. I want someone whom I can respect & dote on, always at my elbow. I mused a while – thought how we disquiet ourselves in vain – that happiness is impossible in this world. Sat down to my journal… ’Tis just before 6.05 as I am writing at this moment & in the last 2½ hours, I have gradually written myself from moody melancholy to contented cheerfulness. I am better than I have been since Wednesday. Surely my mind & heart will by & by recover their healthy tone, & I shall resume my usual occupations with energy & interest & pleasure. What a comfort is this journal. I tell myself to myself & throw the burden on my book & feel relieved.
Saturday 12 June [Halifax]
The party [of magistrates and others who were visiting Shibden Hall concerning the stopping up of a public footpath near the house] were all assembled by 12… All took a glass of wine & water & in about 10 minutes, left us, apparently hoping & thinking we should succeed [in getting the footpath stopped up]. They would not eat anything. We had had a bustle about getting ready the luncheon tray & had only just finished when they returned; ‘Oh,’ thought I to myself, ‘This
would never do for me. I must have M—, or somebody that knows how to manage my house, & I must have servants that know what they are about.’… From 8.05 to 9.40, sauntered with my aunt to the new footpath & then, near ¾ hour, both of us weeding the vetches in the paddock. Coffee at 9.40.
Tuesday 15 June [Halifax]
Ready at 3 to set off to Halifax… Called for Emma Saltmarshe… We sauntered out again immediately, talking of going to Mr Nicholson’s sale at or near Ward’s End, but when we got there saw a crowd of people. Emma recollected that her aunt Stansfield was very ill & she, Emma, ought not to be seen there… Had scarcely got back to the Saltmarshes’ when it began to rain pretty heavily. Detained there till about 6¾. Mr Saltmarshe then ordered his gig for me & his servant drove me home. Came in at 7¼. The Saltmarshes very civil. Very civilly asked me to dine there – to have a mutton chop while they had their tea. This I positively refused, but took one cup of tea with them. Speaking of the Miss Wickhams as women of the world & fashion? or rather as having seen a great deal of the world & good society & being too high for this & that, perhaps I too truly observed I did not quite see the reason of this – that I remembered York society 15 years [ago] – remembered their mother selling laces for charity & being suspected of making a handsome profit. That she was quaintly called Mother Wickham & her daughters Nanny & Harriet… I ought to have said nothing about… the Wickhams. I will better weigh my words in future. Somehow both Christopher & Emma struck me as vulgar & I felt uncomfortable amid all their civility. How different is Miss Maclean & good society. Told the Saltmarshes I should not, probably none of us would, ever enter the new assembly rooms. I knew not what would tempt us. Perhaps Catalani might for one concert. They said how unpatriotic to our native town. I said the town is little to us. Merely one market & post town. Perhaps they guessed not what passed in my mind.
Friday 18 June [Halifax]
From 2 to 6, looking over volumes 2, 3, 4, & 5 as far as p. 111 of my Journal. Volume three, that part containing the account of my intrigue with Anne Belcombe,4 I read over attentively, exclaiming to myself, ‘Oh, women, women!’ I thought, too, of Miss Vallance who, by the way, is by no means worse than Anne, who took me on my own terms even more decidedly. The account, too, as merely noted in the index, of Miss Browne, amuses me. I am always taken up with some girl or other. When shall I amend? Yet my taste improves… I could trace much inconsistency & selfishness noted down against M—.
Saturday 19 June [Halifax]
At 8¾, set off to Lightcliffe… Mrs W. Priestley had a bad headache & did not make her appearance of above ½ hour. All this while, tête-à-tête with Miss Hodgson who afterwards was obliged to leave the breakfast table to lie down on the sopha, she being in a very delicate state of health. Both seemed better & wishful for me to stay & I did so till 2. Talked of one thing or other. Rather complimentary, tho’ properly so, enough to them both. In short, said & did nothing at all I repent of… [Miss Hodgson] evidently likes me, I think she has no objection to Mrs Priestley’s leaving the room. I could make rather a fool of her, perhaps, if I liked, but she seems sensible enough & I have neither intention nor inclination to amuse myself at her expense, tho’ I am very civil to her… Speaking of my oddity, Mrs Priestley said she always told people I was natural, but she thought nature was in an odd freak when she made me. I looked significantly & replied the remark was fair & just & true. After all, she herself is proud of being thought a friend of mine & I now have certainly made up my mind, I think forever, to like her better than anyone else here… Walked leisurely home & got back at 2¾… Sat reading & musing… feeling rather chilly, got up & absolutely put on my other greatcoat &, feeling utterly disinclined for reading, for writing out French or Greek, composed myself & dozed till about 4½… Wrote all this journal of today, feeling not at all too hot in my pelisse, plaid wrapt fourfold round my loins, & 2 greatcoats put on over all, besides my leather knee-caps on & a thick dressing gown threwn across my knees over coats & everything. I sit close to the window, all things considered the only seat in the room that suits me. A large high green baize, fold screen on my right to exclude air from the door. The curtains drawn so as only just to admit light enough, to keep out air from the window. Yet, still, in spite of all this & my towel-horse with a large green baize thrown over it to keep the air from my legs next to the window, an air always does come thro’ the very house-side, as it were, & makes me always sit, the hottest day we have had, in all the clothes I have on now, except the 2nd greatcoat. Always 2 thick blankets on my bed, & a great coat & plaid thrown over my knees. Without these precautions, I know not how it is, but I should be as rheumatic as my aunt… Went down to dinner at 6½. Mr Steel, of Belvidere, came a little before 8. Wanted to speak to me. Stood talking to him a considerable time in the hall. He proposed that… if my uncle would allow him to lead his coals along the cow-lane, as he called it, he himself would engage to pay one pound a year for the privilege & said he was sure that, if my uncle would agree to this, he, Mr Steel, could persuade ‘Lewis & his son, Robert, too’ not to oppose my uncle in stopping the footpath up our own courtyard. It would be much better for my uncle to agree; the footpath must be a great nuisance… Indeed, said I, it is a public good to stop up all unnecessary footpaths. Mr Steel thought so, too. ‘There were far too many.’ He, for his part, was for making a good road all along the common wood & stopping up the footpaths thro’ all the fields… (but) he must say he remembered how old a foot-way it was. He had gone up & down it many a time with Dr Drake. ‘It was a pack-horse road.’ (My uncle declares it was no such thing… that there never was a pack-and-prime road at any time along any of those fields of his… he had heard that, very anciently, people on horseback had gone along the bed of the brook from Will-royde as far as Godley-bridge. But that was not our footpath.)
Saturday 3 July [Halifax]
From the library, went to the Saltmarshes’. Saw them both. Sat there just ½ hour. Emma very civil & kind but always strikes me as being vulgar & somehow, whether her fault or mine, I do not feel there as I used to do. All is right again & quite made up but there certainly is not that constant cordial invitation to stay this meal or that, as in days of yore. Mr & Mrs Saltmarshe expected at Mr William Rawson’s & they are to spend a few days at the Saltmarshes’ house… Said I should not call on them. It would be absurd as it was not in my power to shew them any civility. Emma said she did not expect it. I never had called on anyone staying with her. Said I never called on anyone’s friends unless I had previously known them or unless something very particular made an exception, urging the reason alleged above.
Monday 5 July [Halifax]
Walked forward to Lightcliffe. Mrs W. Priestley & Miss Hodgson at dinner… Would call again in ½ hour. Did so, after loitering that time, reading the gravestones in the churchyard. The ladies were still in the dining-room. Said I would call another day, & returned. No attempt to call me back. I marvelled. Most people, in such a case, would have had the servants prepared to shew me at least into the drawing-room, or Mrs Priestley might have come out to me herself. I do not feel quite pleased. Said I to myself, I shall not go of a week hence… From 8.30 to 9.10, walked on the terrace, occasionally reading Young’s Night Thoughts.5 Coffee at 9.10.
Anne had, for some time, been turning over a plan to travel to Paris and stay there for a few months, mainly in order to recover her health. She wanted to consult medical men in Paris about the venereal disease she had contracted from M—, and believed that the fruit which she could obtain on the Continent would be beneficial. She also wanted to improve her mastery of the French language, broaden her experience of the world, and get away from the provincialism of Halifax. She outlined her plans in a letter to Isabella.
Tuesday 6 July [Halifax]
‘Your mother would tell you I thought of going to Paris for a little while this autumn. I begged it might not be mentioned because something or other may prevent it. What with 1 thing or other, I am ½ stupefied to death &, if, of the many going
to Paris, I can pick out an escort I like, I shall take Cordingley & be off, as I told your mother, any day after the 20th of next month, before which time it is impossible for me to leave home… You have often heard me speak of Madame de Boyve6 – of her, and of Fontainebleau grapes & Normandy pears I have craved for the last, almost, 2 years. Mme de Boyve tells me she will do everything in the world she can to make my visit agreeable; & I make myself sure she will succeed. I know she is in good society… She can’t speak one word of English; nor, except for Cordingley, do I expect to hear one word of it, during the few weeks of my stay. If I go, I shall be delighted, my dearest Isabel, to do anything I can for you, & any, & all of you. Only remember, I cannot bustle about as you can, I have not the tact at understanding shops & shopping, & I cannot smuggle.’
Anne was expecting a short visit from M—, on her way back to Cheshire from York, where she had been hastily summoned on account of the sudden serious illness of her father, Dr Belcombe.
Tuesday 20 July [Halifax]
A little after 6, awakened by a rap at my door. It was M—, who had arrived by the mail… I certainly did not seem in extasies [sic] at seeing her but pretended I was half-asleep. She thought she should have found me at my studies. Did not take much persuading to get into bed & gave me one kiss immediately. At 8¼, I got up, went downstairs & gave Hotspur his oatmeal & water. M— breakfasted in bed & I sat by her & had my breakfast between 9 & 10. My aunt came & sat with us a good while… At 5¾, took M— in the gig & drove to Haugh-end to inquire about their being able to receive Dr & Mrs Belcombe & Mrs Milne & Tatham, the next day… The Priestleys very glad to see us. Will be glad to receive the whole party. I had kissed M— in the morning & behaved kindly to her, yet the business of last August was in all my thoughts & I did not feel right towards her at heart. In driving her to Haugh-end, I began talking. How altered I was. Grown more selfish, more positive in my own ways. Could never again be led by the nose, etc. I saw she was getting low & I talked of common things. On returning, I renewed this subject, asking if she thought me improved. She said she would tell me tomorrow. At last, it came out, she thought me more selfish. She had been saying she should not like me to drive four horses. I had said, Well, but if I liked it, she ought to give up her wishes to mine, for I must have my own way. From little to more. I got her to confess it had struck her I was saying all this against myself because perhaps I wished to be off as well as I could… After a minute’s hesitation, which evidently alarmed her, I denied what she fancied, but explained candidly the impression the Blackstone Edge & Scarbro’ business had made on me. That I could not shake it off… She explained as well as she could… that I had taken it up too strongly. I said there was no accounting for feeling but, at all events, M— must manage me better. I could not stand it. She seemed low & did all she could to conciliate. I could not bear the thought of making her unhappy & reassured her that, with a little good management, she might bring me right again.
The Secret Diaries Of Miss Anne Lister Page 37
