Maria Barlow remained ambivalent. For weeks, she claimed she only wishes to be friends, at the same time admitting she, too, was a little crazy.25 When Anne visited Maria late at night and was stooping over her, the waist of my new gown hung off a little. She put her hand down on the left side, almost touching the nipple of the breast, evidently wishing to feel it. She felt the stuffing but made no remark. I let her do it, observing I should hope to do the same. She did not much notice this but with a half no.26 A half no only encouraged Anne. In wishing her good night she quietly let me put my arms around her waist & gently press her & very gently kiss her. She stood too, with her right thigh a little within my leg, in contact – which she has never permitted before, as Anne noted for 3 November 1824, recording a week later: She now stands nearer to me when I kiss her, yet she always withdraws the moment it becomes obvious that I am excited.27 The next day, Maria visited Anne in her room. I had kissed & pressed Mrs Barlow on my knee till I had had a complete fit of passion. My knees & thighs shook, my breathing & everything told her what was the matter. [...] I then leaned on her bosom &, pretending to sleep, kept pottering about & rubbing the surface of her queer. Then made several gentle efforts to put my hand up her petticoats which, however, she prevented. But she so crossed her legs & leaned against me that I put my hand over & grubbled [groped] her on the outside of her petticoats till she was evidently a little excited, & it was from this that Mlle de Sans’ maid roused us, by knocking on Anne’s door and inviting her to visit her mistress. Anne called out through the locked door: I was sorry, I could not, I had got so bad a headache. The fact was I was heated & in a state not fit so see anyone. She turned her attention back to Maria, but while I was grubbling pretty strongly, she said, ‘You know you pinch me.’ Anne grew tired of her one-sided efforts and asked Maria, ‘Can you not love me one little bit for all the great deal I love you? If you do not love me, I cannot forgive you. You are too cruel thus to sport with the feelings of another.’ There were some feelings Anne kept to herself, though, entrusting to her diary that Maria looked eight & thirty. Her skin & complexion were bad. I thought of all this when kissing her & thought it would not do for always.28
Up until then, Anne Lister had always written in her diary when and under what circumstances she had sex with her lovers, and how many orgasms they each had, without detailing exactly what happened in bed. Faced by Maria Barlow’s prolonged resistance, Anne now extended her diary’s function: the act of writing came to stand in for the act of love. In complex detail, Anne described inch by inch how far she had got with her hands, lips and tongue, savouring in writing what was still refused to her in real life. When Anne retired to bed with a headache on one occasion, she spooned with Maria. I had my arms around her, she lying with her back to me, my right leg under and left leg over her. I got a hand towards her queer by degrees. She so turned round that my left hand got to her very comfortably and by degrees I got to feel and handle her. I got her gown up and tried to raise her petticoats also but, finding that this would not do (one of her hands prevented it), I was contented that my naked left thigh should rest upon her naked left thigh and thus she let me grubble her over her petticoats. [...] Now and then I held my hand still and felt her pulsation, let her rise towards my hand two or three times and gradually open her thighs, and felt her as well and distinctly as it was possible to do over her petticoats, and felt that she was excited.29
On another occasion, she pulled Maria onto her lap and went from little to more. I became rather excited. Felt her breasts & queer a little. Tried to put my hand up her petticoat but she prevented. Touched her flesh just above the knee twice. I kissed her warmly & held her strongly. She said what a state I was putting myself into. She got up to go away & went to the door. I followed. Finding she lingered a moment, pressed her closely & again tried to put my hand up her petticoats. Finding that she would not let me do this but still that she was a little excited, I became regularly so myself. I felt her grow warm & she let me grubble & press her tightly with my left hand whilst I held her against the door with the other, all the while putting my tongue into her mouth & kissing her so passionately as to excite her not a little, I am sure. When it was over she put her handkerchief to her eyes &, shedding a few tears, said, ‘You are used to these things. I am not.’ I remonstrated against this, declaring I was not so bad as one thought me & injustice like this would make me miserable, etc. [...] I loved her with all my heart & would do anything for her. Asked her if she loved me a little bit. ‘You know I do,’ said she. I still therefore pressed her to let me in tomorrow before she was up, when Mrs Page [Maria’s maid] was gone with Miss Barlow to school. She would not promise. Asked me what I would do. I said teach her to love me better. Insinuated we had now gone too far to retract & she might as well admit me. [...] On leaving me, her face looked hot, her hair out of curl & herself languid, exactly as if after a connection had taken place.30
Anne Lister was wrong; Maria Barlow was not looking for casual relaxation. She was the mother of a girl who would soon be of marriageable age, and she had to act responsibly. When Anne asked her by the fire for the umpteenth time if I had no hope of making her dearer to me, Maria answered, ‘No, never, till we are married.’ ‘Oh,’ said I, ‘can nothing persuade you to anticipate?’ ‘No,’ said she, ‘I hope not. You would then leave me very unhappy.’ ‘Why?’ said I. She answered, ‘Because it would be wrong. I should fret myself to death.’ 31 Maria did not want sex before marriage, but she sensed that Anne was unwilling or unable to make a commitment. She observed my wedding ring. I said this ought to bind me but this was pure friendship.32 On further questioning, she did reveal Mariana’s name, but she claimed, I have so long loved her in a different way. Aside from that, Mariana always said if I met with anyone I liked better, she would be no tie upon me. Maria did not believe her: Tonight she insinuated what might have passed, saying, ‘But of course you would never tell me.’ I turned this off dexterously as usual & I think, considering Mariana’s marriage, she feels unwillingly constrained to believe me.33
Anne had to respect that Maria after all [...] has behaved well & at present I see I have no chance of succeeding further. She says I never shall till I have the right to do so & she would not let me gain the right now even if I were at liberty for she would make me leave her & wait till I had tried whether I really know my own mind & could really be happy with her or not. Nothing was further from Anne’s mind, having been wedded to Mariana Lawton and Isabella Norcliffe in parallel for some twelve years. How she is deceived. Why have I done this? [...] Poor soul! I begin to feel that I have really attached her & that I cannot find it in my heart to deceive her more.34
At the end of November, Anne’s stay in Paris was approaching its end without her having sought medical advice. Pears and grapes had not cured her discharge. A letter from her concerned aunt, which Anne read aloud to Maria, made her admit, ‘I came to Paris for my health’ & afterwards said something of ‘suffering for one’s folly.’ [...] She was a married woman. Her husband was the origin of the thing. I had not got it quite fairly, meaning that she knew of it & ought not to have admitted me. Maria’s reaction to the confession was friendly and understanding. She joked me that I wished to know everything,35 and recommended Guillaume Dupuytren, head physician at the Hôtel de Dieu hospital and personal doctor to Louis XVIII and Charles X. Anne told him the history of her ailment as though she was Mariana and was married to Charles Lawton. Was he gay with others? Monsieur Dupuytren asked. Yes, at first with servants in the house, was Anne’s answer, going by what she knew from Mariana. ‘Aviez-vous des rapports frequents? Once a week? Once a fortnight?’ ‘Yes,’ said I, ‘about so often at first. Then once a fortnight & afterwards once a month, till I was, all at once, ill & since then, not at all.’ ‘How old are you?’ ‘Thirty-two’ (a slight understatement). ‘How old is he?’ ‘Fifty-two.’ ‘How long married?’ ‘Eight or nine years.’ He said I was young. It was odd he had been so – without any connection with me. Had he
no inclination? He did not shew any. Did we sleep together? Yes. Had he no erections? No. Had I much pleasure with him? Pas beaucoup. He said he must examine me. I said it was very disagreeable. Could it be done without? He seemed a little impatient & said would I say yes or no. I very quietly asked if it was absolutely necessary. He said yes. ‘Well then,’ said I, ‘it must be done.’ 36 After the examination, the doctor told her to stop rinsing with zinc sulphate and to collect a new prescription from him in a week’s time.
Guillaume Dupuytren was a respected surgeon and scientist, but his treatment drove Anne to the brink of collapse. Although she was thin, he prescribed a meagre diet without meat and made her take a one-hour bath every other day at 35°C, which felt rather cold to her. Above all, however, he prescribed her rubbing with mercury.37 Up until the early twentieth century, mercury ointment was considered an effective remedy for gynaecological problems and syphilis, which Anne was less likely to have contracted, as syphilis and gonorrhoea are not so commonly passed on through lesbian sex. Admittedly, research has made little progress on the matter since Dupuytren’s times: of all sexual varieties, sex between women is still the least studied by medical science. Anne’s symptoms of itching and prolonged discharge indicate trichomoniasis. Unlike other sexually transmitted infections, this parasite is easily transmitted from woman to woman; most men do not even notice they are infected. Nowadays, Anne Lister would be cured by antibiotics within a week. Her French doctor, however, weakened her with a diet and baths and poisoned her with mercury rubbed into her legs and vagina. I begin to look pale and ill and always feel worse in an evening. I feel rather more inclined to spit,38 she noted after only a week of this treatment. After a month, she was certainly much reduced in strength.39 The mercury ointment had brought on profuse bleedings. I used to sit on the pot & bleed like a stuck pig.40
Anne only hinted at her worsened health in her letters to her aunt and uncle. Instead, she used the treatment by the famous doctor as an excuse to extend her stay in Paris; her ever-helpful aunt and uncle sent her the £100 she asked for. That gave Anne time to turn another matter to her advantage. The pension at place Vendôme had proved rather cramped. Anne persuaded Maria to rent a flat of her own for herself and her daughter, where Anne and Cordingley would move in for the rest of their stay. In spite of all, I have no serious thoughts of her at present, tho’ I am so far seducing her. Oh, this is terrible.41 Furnishing and maintaining an apartment was more expensive than living at the pension, but Maria complied with Anne’s wishes despite her limited means. She hoped a shared household might be the start of a binding relationship. They found a charming apartment in a beautiful and excellent situation on the third floor at no. 15, quai Voltaire, commanding one of the finest views imaginable of the Seine, the Tuileries gardens, the Louvre, &c.42 Maria Barlow had the salon, the dining room and two bedrooms wallpapered (the kitchen and servants’ rooms were in the attic), bought furniture, curtains, carpets, bedding and linen, and built a nest for Anne and herself. Anne pretended to her aunt, who expressed surprise at the change of accommodation on 15 January 1825, that Mrs Barlow was the driving force behind it. She has very kindly given me an invitation to pass the remainder of whatever time I may be still in Paris, with her, and I feel so entirely as if I should not know what to do without her, that I have very gladly accepted her invitation.43 If one is at all unwell, there is no nursing like English. The French do not appear to understand this sort of thing and I have found Mrs B– the greatest comfort in the world. She has always taken care I had everything I wanted, has ordered about my baths, &c., &c., and has, in fact, done all I could not do well myself. I certainly feel myself in good hands altogether, and am now decidedly better.44 Did Aunt Anne understand the hints in Anne’s letter?
During the time in which the two women were choosing curtain fabrics and wallpaper, Maria abandoned her resistance. I soon took up her petticoats so as to feel her naked thighs next to mine. Then, after kissing with my tongue in her mouth, got the middle finger of my right hand up her & grubbled her longer & better than ever, she seeming rather more at ease than before & taking it with more emotion & apparent pleasure, which made me keep dawdling there a long time. She seemed more moist than before.45 On moving into their shared home, Maria then grew as free as Anne had hoped. She nothing loth last night, Anne wrote in her diary the next morning, and after the first week she noted: She is quite at ease with me now. Jokes me about having done too much & my being exhausted, & declares she will not let me, saying she is exhausted too. ‘No, no,’ said I, ‘I am not, but certainly you are not. I am the most of the two.’ She smiled. I blamed the mercury for weakening me. She can certainly bear all I can do well enough & she shall have it.46
To Anne’s surprise, her nice little bedfellow was more active than her previous lovers. Whereas Mariana and Anne only cast furtive glances at each other while dressing, for instance, Maria sat by the fire watching me wash the mercury from my thighs & then wash and dress. She admired my figure, its masculine beauty, saying I was very well made.47 Anne’s greatest surprise came after a strong excitement last night just after getting into bed. She said again this morning, it was the best she had ever had. Had a very good one an hour before we got up, slumbering all the while afterwards. In getting out of bed, she suddenly touching my queer, I started back. ‘Ah,’ said she, ‘that is because you are pucelle [virgin]. I must undo that. I can give you relief. I must do to you as you do to me.’ I liked not this & said she astonished me. She asked if I was angry. No, merely astonished. However, I found I could not easily make her understand my feeling on the subject & I dropped the matter altogether.48
Anne Lister’s private word for female genitalia, ‘queer’, is a surprise in itself. It appears to be a distortion of the word ‘quim’ or ‘queme’, a slang word used to describe the same area of the female body,49 Helena Whitbread argues. In Anne’s lifetime, ‘queer’ was an adjective meaning ‘strange’, ‘odd’ or ‘wrong’. She used the word frequently in that sense too. Aunt Anne applied it to her niece on one occasion (you’re a queer one).50 Indeed, Anne Lister’s secret expression for the centre of female lust would one day become an umbrella term for lesbians and gays, bisexuals and trans people.
While Anne always wanted to get to her partner’s queer, she resisted Maria Barlow’s foray. Maria’s desire to penetrate her repelled Anne. This is womanizing me too much.51 In twenty years of intense sexual activity, Anne had never been penetrated by any of her lovers. That role was reserved for her. She even considered her hymen intact. During her gynaecological examination by Dupuytren, I was only afraid he should find out I was not married but he certainly did not make this discovery.52
So what did Anne have done to her in bed? Despite the mass of detail she gives us of her sexual activities in her journals, she focuses only on her partners. We can reach some conclusions, however. Before a reunion with Isabella Norcliffe, Anne once imagined what sort of kisses she would give.53 Anne would not let her lovers penetrate her, then, but they could touch her and bring her to orgasm, and she knew more than one sexual position. Of all things, Mariana, Anne and Isabella’s infection gives us some clues as to specific activities. The trichomoniasis parasite is carried in mucous membranes. Women can infect women by stimulating themselves and their partner, passing infected vaginal secretions via their fingers. The kisses in Anne Lister’s journals probably not only refer to sex in general and orgasms in particular, but can also be taken literally in some cases, as oral sex. When Mariana later found out about Anne’s affair with her sister Nantz, She asked anxiously if I had really gone the utmost length & asked for my honour that I had not. I gave it. Could I do otherwise? But owned I had done all but absolutely ‘kiss’.54
Both Anne and Maria hoped for a honeymoon in their apartment at quai Voltaire, but they each understood that to mean something very different. Anne, now almost thirty-four, was sharing a home with a woman for the first time in her life, and hoped for undisturbed sex with my little one. To her surp
rise, she found that Maria was willing to play along with her gentlemanly act but ignored it in everyday life. Maria lets me see too much that she considers me too much as a woman. She talks to me about being unwell [i.e. menstruation]. I have aired napkins before her. She feels me, etc. All which I like not. Mariana never seems to know or notice these things.55 The latter had always desired her ‘Freddy’, whom she never wanted to deflower, and is contented with having myself next to her.56
During her version of the honeymoon, Maria dreamed of a lasting marriage. On the very first night she hinted at what she sacrificed. She meant virtue, I suppose, but I merely said I could sacrifice everything for her; Shibden, my friends, every prospect I had. I scarcely said it ere the feeling of insincerity on this point struck me.57 Maria too realized this was a lie. Anne had told her that I should love her always. ‘Yes,’ said she, ‘as long as you can.’ Has she a presentiment? For she often speaks in this way, that I shall, by & by, get the better of my fancy for her.58 Maria grew more and more sad as a result; she was not a crier in general, yet how many tears she shed for me.59 She feared that she loved me too soon. In plain English, she was too much like a mistress. She was not my wife.60 I consoled her. Said I would marry her if I could. Spoke of the purity of my affections.61 Yet to herself, she admitted it was an imprudent connection. [...] Mrs Barlow has no friends whose acquaintance can serve me as an introduction. She has no money & there is Jane. [...] I have never seriously thought of having her. [...] But I have suspected Mrs Barlow of being deep & thus have acted like a rascal in so gaining her affections.62
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