Inversion

3. Extravagant, highly coloured items of male clothing were considered ‘unmanly’ in late Victorian times.

5. To be clean-shaven was another trait considered unmanly.

6. Victorian language lacked the means to describe or comment directly on queer lives. At the end of the century, Edward Carpenter, socialist and gay man, was one of the first to try. 'Invert' was a term he coined.

8. The death penalty for anal sex was withdrawn in 1861. After a series of scandals, an addition to the 1885 Criminal Law Amendment Act (the "Labouchere Amendment") made "gross indecency" by "any male person", whether in public or private spaces, punishable by a prison term. The catch-all nature of the offense made living a queer life dangerous.

9. Soldiers from Knightsbridge Barracks and other central London locations were often to be found in pubs  known for their queer clientèle. Their services varied from companionship to sexual favors. The military often featured in pornographic queer stories.

10. Servants would have been present in the house. For two gay men, meeting in a private house was no protection against arrest and a prosecution for being queer.

14. One of numerous pornographic novels (straight and queer) that circulated at this time. It includes genuine details of queer life in London at the time.

15.It is hardly surprising that society’s message of sexual continence and moral orthodoxy in late Victorian times met with defiance from queer people. It made the deviant and forbidden aspects of Aubrey Beardsley’s art all the more attractive.

18. Simeon Solomon’s paintings depicted near-naked men in what we'd see now as queer situations. Those exhibited in public arenas concealed the minimum amount of flesh necessary. Again, language deficiencies limited direct criticism of the queer content. Solomon was convicted of "indecency" in a public place, evidence of the need for extreme caution.

19.His painting of Bacchus is an excellent example of a queer image disguised by its classical, Graeco-Roman setting.

Hastily vacating the stuffy interior of a hansom cab1, Edward Tennant peered into a murky London winter's afternoon. His heart pounded. An attempt to swallow some of his excitement ended in a cough.

Dimly, he heard the cabbie exchange the time of day with another of his ilk. The man cracked a whip and called out in encouragement to his overworked horse.

The cab! Edward spun round on his heels. “Driver! Wait a moment.”

He ignored any expostulations that followed, caring only to fling the passenger door open and retrieve the parcel which lay abandoned on the worn seat.

How could he have forgotten it?

Purchased earlier that day, the volume’s lurid yellow cover2 lay hidden under thick brown paper.

Some of his present nervous energy remained from when he entered Foyle’s bookshop on the Charing Cross Road. He felt certain that everyone had turned to watch as he placed the book upon the counter. 

Edward breathed deeply. He adjusted a new, voluminous violet cravat, smoothed invisible creases in a lilac waistcoat3, and wished he'd worn a stout, caped ulster.

“My appearance is more elegant this way.” He tugged at a freshly-trimmed, reddish, Van Dyck beard4.

It had taken several months to grow sufficient facial hair for any beard. He preferred a clean-shaven appearance5. Only the threat from an outraged father to withdraw his allowance had forced Edward’s change of mind.

Light from the gas lamps on Burton Crescent seemed only to illumine the swirling yellowish-grey that surrounded him. Summoning up courage, he sought out an address written on the back of a crumpled ticket.

A few moments later, a three-storey house built in the Regency style common to Bloomsbury loomed over him.

Whispers the previous week from a fellow invert6 in a darkened theatre box7 had given him hope. Delicious hope.

But he knew nothing of the man other than what was on the paper. Their talk had been of the play, light and inconsequential, until by turns, the man led the conversation round to offering Edward an invitation to visit.

The young man shivered. A false move now could swiftly bring disgrace8.

Fog did little to muffle the rap of the polished brass knocker. Edward breathed deep. This was a meeting of new friends, respectable and commonplace. A passing shadow in the gloom caught his eye. The male figure paused for a moment before moving on.

The young man wished the lamp above the door cast a dimmer light. He balled both hands in a quest to steady himself.

Even if the figure were a police constable, he’d done nothing wrong. Yet.

A fleeting phantasy transformed the wraith from constable to private soldier, resplendent in scarlet and black9. Edward’s skin prickled with heat, fog notwithstanding.

In an attempt to control his lust, he returned to memories of the secluded, enticing conversation in the theatre box. 

It was of no use.

As before, velvet baritone murmurs rippled and lapped over his frame. Edward’s whole body shook, a fevered imagination picturing their first kiss. The wildness of his fancies alarmed him.

Wasn’t anyone going to answer the door?

It opened. 

Instead of the expected servant, Maurice Pemberton stood there, his smile another beacon in the gloom. “Good day to you, Tennant. Do come inside. The weather is dreadful, is it not?”

Although his rapt gaze was fixed on the other man, Edward still noted the remarks. He thought them designed for other, over-zealous ears10. After a momentary pause, he answered in kind. “I fear my choice not to wear an overcoat was an unfortunate one.”

“Never mind— a stiff drink in front of a roaring fire will soon see to that.”

Another smile passed between them, conveying its own secret message. Edward’s face flushed with heat.

Why was he unable to control himself?

They went through into a book-lined study. Maurice shut the door. “I promise we will not be disturbed.”

Edward’s breathing slowed though one hand still clutched his new purchase close.

“Let me pour you a brandy.”

“I … I err …”

“It will help settle your nerves perhaps?”

A nod was the only possible response. He resolved to leave the drink untasted. Memories of reading his mother’s dusty sensation11 novels jostled with a wish to appear a man of the world.

Maurice poured the drink, then sat and patted the sofa cushion. “Join me, Edward.” He spotted the package. “What is this? Something new?”

In his hurry to remove the paper wrapper, Edward handed over the yellow-bound volume wrong side up. A look of surprise on the other man’s face faded once he turned it around.

“I thought for a moment you were offering me a yellow book12. A novel in the decadent style by M. Huysmans13 perhaps?” 

At a loss, Edward did not reply.

“It is no matter.” Maurice sprang up and strode over to a bookcase protected by an ornate iron grill. He took a small key from his pocket and opened the lock.

His dark, feline grace entranced Edward. He wondered if amongst the books was a copy of The Sins of the Cities of the Plains14.

In their box at the theatre, he’d overheard several men discussing the book in excited tones. One had quoted several passages by heart. In trying to catch every word, Edward missed the vital turning point of the play on stage.

“Well, now.” Maurice turned to face him. “Shall we admire some of Mr. Beardsley’s15 illustrations?”

Despite his earlier resolve, Edward’s mouth dropped open at the thought. The scandalous nature of the illustrations was well known. His father had condemned Beardsley as depraved, though precisely why, Edward wasn’t clear.

“Maybe not just yet.” An amused smile followed. “If I am to fully corrupt your innocence, Edward, it will require longer than I thought.”

Maurice reached to a shelf and removed a heavy volume. “I possess several sets of Mr. Hollyer's16 photographs. Let us start here.”

The two men drew closer on the sofa, their bodies nearly touching. Edward attributed a swimming sensation in his head to the unaccustomed warmth of the room.

His companion got the volume ready.

A knock at the study door startled them both. The two men sprang apart. Beads of perspiration broke out on Edward’s brow. Nausea threatened. The other man motioned for silence with one hand.

The knock was repeated. Whoever it was shuffled their feet on the tiled floor. A scrape came from something heavy being put down.

A loud female voice echoed from somewhere else in the house “Martha! Where do you think you are going with that coal scuttle17, girl?”

Edward’s heart thumped.

The same voice countermanded an indistinct reply with an order. “The master gave strict instructions he was not to be disturbed. Should he require more coal for the fire, he will ring for it.”

A hurried “Yes, Mrs. Higgins. Sorry, Mrs. Higgins” was accompanied by footsteps moving swiftly away from the library.

He knew what it was to breathe again. Even the more experienced man next to him looked up at the ceiling in relief.

“I am fortunate the housekeeper guards my privacy with determination.” Maurice frowned. “Which is more than I can say for the maids.” A shrug followed. “I, in my turn, ensure Mrs. Higgins is well paid for her trouble.”

After a moment or two to collect themselves, they drew together once more and gazed at image after image of Simeon Solomon’s18 paintings.

Edward gasped at the beauty of the god, Bacchus19. The truth contained in the portrait was undeniable. Desire coursed throughout his body.

Maurice leant closer.

The younger man felt heated breaths caress his cheek.

“What did that chap in the bowler20 say to you at the theatre last week? I leave you alone for one instant and someone else becomes your suitor.”

A flush reddened his face. “I'm not sure. Two men sat quarrelling close by.”

“A lover’s tiff, no doubt.”

“Some of it was a warning, I think.” Edward paused. “Who or what are rozzers21? The man said my ecaf was too bona for my own good.”

“He was right. You are too handsome, too beguiling.”

Edward’s mouth opened for a denial.

A manly, passionate kiss took its place.

1. A horse-drawn public hire vehicle designed to carry one person.

2. The Yellow Book was the leading literary journal of the 1890s. With designs by Aubrey Beardsley, the publication was associated with decadence and aestheticism.

4. Popular in the early 1890s – the beard covered only the chin. There was also a mustache.

7. Theatres were one place where gay men dared to meet up. An audience box was public, but also concealed.

11. In the 1860s and 1870s, sensation novels were hugely popular. Set in everyday life, the stories explored social anxieties and relied on plot devices that often concerned secrets and surprises.

12. In 1890s Paris, novels written by Decadent writers were sold in plain yellow wrappers.

13. À rebours by Joris-Karl Huysmans is one well-known example.

 16. Frederick Hollyer specialised in photographic reproductions of paintings. They were often sold as sets.

17. Both domestic and commercial burning of coal in winter often led to a toxic combination of fog and fumes outside. Coal fires required frequent replenishment.

20. Someone wearing a bowler hat at an evening function meant they were an individual with less status. Queer social interactions were more varied than was normal.

21.Polari, an English cant, was borrowed by gay men in the twentieth century mostly, but usage has been noted in the 1890s. The underworld secrecy it offered must have been attractive. "Rozzers" are policemen.