Introduction

Alison Clark Efford

MATHILDE FRANZISKA ANNEKE’S CONTEMPORARIES PROBABLY thought of her as a trousered thirty-two-year-old on horseback flanked by other revolutionary soldiers. In 1849, Mathilde joined her husband Fritz in the southern state of Baden to fight for a Germany united under a constitutional government.¹ She was already known as a democrat, a socialist, and a feminist, but military action sealed her credentials as a “Forty-Eighter,” a participant in the unsuccessful German Revolutions of 1848–1849. When the Annekes fled to the United States, Mathilde’s reputation as a woman who defied convention in the pursuit of justice launched her into a new life. She published a memoir of the Baden campaign,² gave lectures before German American crowds, wrote for German American periodicals, and briefly published her own newspaper. Her experiences as a Forty-Eighter informed the work that filled the second half of her life: educating girls and agitating to end slavery and enfranchise women.

Historian Anke Ortlepp has written, “Making Anneke’s writings available to English-speaking readers would introduce them to a fascinating woman and grant her the attention that she deserves as one of the German[-American] community’s most prolific writers, women’s rights activists, and political radicals.”³ The translations in this volume begin that task with a selection of personal letters covering the period from 1859 to 1865. In addition to encompassing the Civil War, these years bracketed Mathilde’s passionate relationship to Anglo-American abolitionist and writer Mary Booth. A breathless series of dramatic events filled Mathilde and Mary’s time together. Soon after they met in Milwaukee, Mathilde moved into Mary’s home to support her through the trials of Mary’s famous husband Sherman Booth, first for the “seduction” of a fourteen-year-old and then for engineering the jailbreak of a man who had fled slavery. With Booth still imprisoned, the two women took three of their children and left for Switzerland, where they collaborated on antislavery stories, debated the U.S. Civil War with individuals ranging from American abolitionist Gerrit Smith to German socialist Ferdinand Lassalle, and followed Fritz’s career in the Union army—until it was cut short by a court martial. In 1865, six tumultuous years ended when the Confederacy capitulated, Mary died, and Mathilde returned to Milwaukee.

As Ortlepp suggested, the letters reveal the drama of Mathilde’s intertwined personal and political lives. They provide especially rich material in two areas. First, they showcase the global dimensions of the Civil War, detailing a dense web of interactions among American opponents of slavery and European radicals. Mathilde, Fritz, and Mary tried to influence European views of the war in the United States, while Europe affected how they approached slavery, the subordination of women, and other forms of injustice. Second, the letters provide a case study of an emotionally intense relationship between women. Mathilde and Mary pooled their resources, raised their children together, collaborated professionally, and pursued a politics that critiqued existing social structures. Mathilde and Mary’s unusually well-documented partnership highlights the interplay between same-sex passion and heterosexual norms.

Mathilde’s early life in German Europe shaped the woman she had become by the time she met Mary at age forty-one. Mathilde Franziska Giesler was born on April 3, 1817, in Hiddinghausen, Prussian Westphalia, into a wealthy family with connections to both the educated middle classes and the landed gentry. Her mother, Elisabeth Hülswitt, had previously been married to an aristocrat who died, and her father, Karl Giesler, held senior civil service positions and managed his investments. After attending a public elementary school, Mathilde and her siblings received their education from private tutors and, doubtless, the conversations of politically active family friends.⁴

Hers was a privileged childhood, but Mathilde’s fortunes changed abruptly when she married Alfred von Tabouillot in 1836. The nineteen-year-old Mathilde agreed to the match because the wealthy wine merchant promised to pay off debts that her father had accrued in a disastrous railroad investment. Although she was optimistic about finding love, her husband drank to excess and treated her “horrifically.”⁵ Mathilde left within a year and spent several more years trying to extricate herself and her daughter Johanna (“Fanny,” 1837–1877) from the violent marriage. Initially, a Prussian court ordered her to return to her husband. Fearing for her safety, she refused, which cost her the chance of alimony and child support. In 1841, she finally won a divorce, but not before she had learned devastating lessons in how law and social convention endangered, impoverished, and constrained women.⁶

Mathilde became politically active as a struggling single mother living in Münster in the 1840s. Supporting herself and Fanny by writing plays, short stories, and articles, she gravitated toward people who were challenging social, economic, and political injustice.⁷ After exhibiting early religiosity, Mathilde became particularly critical of the ways that religious traditions and institutions subjugated women. In 1847, she articulated her position in a pamphlet defending Louise Aston, a divorced woman whom Berlin authorities had exiled from the city for her outspoken feminism and frankness about sex. In Woman in Conflict with Society (Das Weib im Conflict mit den socialen Verhältnissen), Mathilde argued that “society,” embodied especially in the Catholic Church’s interpretation of marriage, had enslaved women. She maintained that women should free themselves from its irrational restraints and raise independent daughters.⁸

For Mathilde, it seemed obvious that sexism was inseparable from economic barriers and political oppression, which were the subject of more widespread protest. By the 1840s, serfdom and guild restrictions had disappeared from most of German Europe, but German monarchs, the landed gentry, and well-connected capitalists manipulated markets in goods and labor. Anger at what historian Jonathan Sperber calls “unfree market economies” was mounting at the same time that an agricultural crisis gathered across the continent and British industrial production squeezed German craftspeople and small manufacturers.⁹ Many critics thought that if all men could vote, and their elected representatives wielded meaningful power, German states would implement fairer economic policies. Liberals and radicals lobbied for a press free from censorship and the right to protest their governments. In German Europe, such ideas could not be separated from the diplomatic relationships among states. Mathilde and others on the Left thought that creating a unified Germany would sweep away the inequitable practices that had grown up within the patchwork of separate kingdoms, duchies, and principalities. Some favored a constitutional monarchy, but she came to advocate a republic.¹⁰

In the political ferment of the 1840s, it became clear how important personal relationships were to Mathilde’s radical politics. While living in Münster, she met her second husband, the fiery communist Fritz Anneke, at a democratic debating society. Fritz was born Carl Friedrich Theodor Anneke in 1818 in the nearby city of Dortmund to the family of a senior civil servant with military experience. Fritz himself became an artillery lieutenant in the Prussian army, but by 1842 he was also spending time with the people involved in Cologne’s famous Rheinische Zeitung, including Karl Marx. Fritz met Mathilde after he was finally expelled from the army in 1845 for a duel related to his communist affiliations. They married in 1847 and moved to Cologne in Prussia’s Rhine Province.¹¹ In Münster and Cologne, Mathilde made lifelong friends and mingled with notable figures including the important author Annette von Droste-Hülshoff, Russian anarchist Mikhail Bakunin, and future Civil War general August Willich.¹²

Cologne played a key role in the momentous year of 1848. After the French deposed their king in February, a wave of protests spread across Europe. Germans took to the streets in Berlin, Vienna, and dozens of smaller towns and cities; they brandished weapons outside rural manor houses. In Cologne, Fritz helped to organize demonstrations of thousands of workers who demanded economic concessions and local political power as well as constitutional government. As Prussian rulers hesitated and a national German parliament met in Frankfurt, Karl Marx rushed back to Cologne from exile.¹³ On July 3, the scrambling authorities decided to arrest Fritz, leaving Mathilde in a precarious situation. Without Fritz’s income and about to give birth, she feared she too would be detained. But her son (Fritz, 1848–1858) arrived on July 21, and within two months she started publishing a new “social-democratic” newspaper, the Neue Kölnische Zeitung, out of her apartment. Important Cologne radicals, including Marx, supported the venture in various ways, and Fritz pitched in once he was released from jail on December 23.¹⁴

Although the forces of reaction had regrouped by spring 1849, the Annekes held out hope. In May, Fritz, along with poet and revolutionary Gottfried Kinkel and twenty-year-old future U.S. general and senator Carl Schurz, marched with a small group of Westphalian volunteers to Baden’s Palatinate region where republican troops hung onto power.¹⁵ After leaving the children in care of her mother, Mathilde also traveled to Baden, serving in battle as an unarmed Ordonnanzoffizierin (orderly officer or aide-de-camp).¹⁶ The campaign constituted a formative experience for the European Left, but it did not create a united Germany. Prussia assisted Baden in defeating the uprising in July, forcing Fritz and Mathilde to flee via Strasbourg to Zürich.

Before 1849 was out, the Annekes had decided to move to the United States, settling in the Milwaukee area with several other members of the Giesler and Anneke families. Milwaukee had just over twenty thousand residents in 1850, but the city on Lake Michigan was growing fast. German-born residents made up about 36 percent of the population, and their U.S.-born children swelled the German community.¹⁷ Although German immigrants were politically and religiously divided, the majority supported the broad aims of the Revolutions of 1848.¹⁸ A smaller contingent formed an eager audience for radical books, articles, and lectures. Mathilde addressed local audiences on the Revolutions of 1848 and toured the Midwest advocating “the uplift of women” and “demanding” the “improvement of their social position, the right to work, and above all, the right to vote.”¹⁹ In March 1852, she published the inaugural issue of the monthly Deutsche Frauen-Zeitung, the first woman-owned feminist periodical in the United States.²⁰ But Mathilde faced a boycott from male printers in Milwaukee, and when an opportunity for Fritz opened up in Newark, New Jersey, she moved the Frauen-Zeitung to the New York area before it languished a few years later. In Newark, Mathilde continued to write, but the six years the family spent on the East Coast were extremely difficult ones. Fritz and Mathilde lost four of their children, including their son Fritz, two three-year-old daughters, and an infant.²¹ The grieving parents returned to Milwaukee with Percy (1850–1928) and Hertha (1855–1945) in 1858.

It was on arriving back in Milwaukee that Mathilde met Mary. Like most white abolitionists in Wisconsin, Mary and Sherman Booth hailed from New England and the New York area. Mary Humphrey Corss had been born in New Haven, Connecticut, where Sherman had also spent time as a student at Yale. Sherman Booth was a temperance advocate and abolitionist who in 1839 taught English to the Africans imprisoned for taking over the slave ship Amistad. He did not meet Mary until 1849, when she visited a friend in Milwaukee. By that time, Booth was publisher of the Wisconsin Freeman and one of Wisconsin’s leading abolitionists.²² The Anglo-American abolitionist movement was inspired by the words and actions of African Americans and had deep roots in transatlantic exchange, but it was culturally distinct from German American antislavery politics. Anglo-American abolitionism bore the imprint of New England and mid-Atlantic Protestantism and had strong ties to temperance.²³ Despite their differences, Mathilde found common cause with the Booths.

Grappling with the nuances of Mathilde, Mary, and Fritz’s actions and interactions between 1859 and 1865 will draw readers into debates over the transatlantic dimensions of the Civil War and the nature of same-sex relationships in the nineteenth century. In recent decades, research placing the Civil War in the context of worldwide developments has changed how historians have approached the conflict. It is not news to historians that the foreign-born made up about 25 percent of Union troops or that the U.S. and Confederate governments worked hard to win the backing of other countries.²⁴ In the twenty-first century, however, historians have rededicated themselves to exploring interconnections between the United States and events abroad, questioning the extent to which the history of the United States was self-contained and exceptional.

Although some studies emphasize that Europeans saw the United States as a beacon of progress, most transnational histories of the Civil War have shown that its struggles resembled others around the world.²⁵ The American republic was building an empire, beating back challenges to government power, and facing fierce demands for freedom and equality from those it violently repressed.²⁶ These trends were global ones in part because of international networks. Several groundbreaking works have demonstrated that the supporters and opponents of slavery depended on transnational cooperation.²⁷ There is more research on English speakers than German speakers, but many historians have studied the German Forty-Eighters.²⁸ In the thoroughly researched We Are the Revolutionists: German-Speaking Immigrants and American Abolitionists after 1848 (2011), Mischa Honeck notably features Mary and Mathilde in his argument that cross-cultural relationships fueled antislavery activism.²⁹

Mathilde’s relationship with Mary merits attention in its own right.³⁰ Mary told Mathilde that she was the “morning-star of my soul, the beautiful auroral glow of my heart, the saintly lilly [sic] of my dream”; Mathilde’s described Mary as “the scent that fill[ed] the air” in the Swiss mountains.³¹ It is understandable that twenty-first-century readers might be curious whether they were sexual partners. Since the early twentieth century, genital contact has been the dominant criterion for categorizing relationships between people of the same gender. Around 1900, sexologists and psychologists popularized a definition of “lesbian” based on “deviant” sexual activity.³² Women who later sought to reclaim lesbian identity also focused on sex, searching for women in the past who had desired other women as they did.³³ Yet scholarship on the erotically charged “romantic friendships” in the nineteenth century shows that they did not fit neatly into twentieth-century categories.³⁴ It would be anachronistic to call romantic friends lesbians. They did not identify as such, since the category had yet to take on its modern form, and we do not know what they did in bed. It would be equally anachronistic, however, to call them straight. That category did not exist yet either, and romantic friends related to other women with a passion unknown to straight-identified women today.³⁵ Romantic friendships did not necessarily involve genital contact and bore relatively little stigma, but they demonstrate the significance of same-sex desire and its subversive potential.³⁶ The approaches of queer studies, which attend to the spectrum of behaviors and desires that exist in conversation with heterosexual norms, are well suited to Mathilde and Mary’s letters.³⁷

Taking Mathilde and Mary’s relationship on its own terms means recognizing that the two women adored each other and that their partnership offered appealing alternatives to heterosexual marriage. When Mary first met Mathilde, she was in awe. In a letter to her sister, Mary glowingly compared Mathilde to Joan of Arc, the French saint who had gone into battle dressed as a man.³⁸ Mary, who had also lost a baby, helped Mathilde survive her grief over the deaths of her four children. Mathilde helped Mary endure both illness and the ignominy of her husband’s seduction trial. The decision to move to Switzerland grew out of their emotional and practical dependence on each other. Together, they could raise their children while experiencing adventure and a renewed sense of purpose. Instead of living with a rapist who belittled her, Mary had an attentive partner who introduced her to witty, elegant, and educated Europeans. For her part, Mathilde threw herself into caring for a lighthearted younger woman and gained a collaborator and coparent. Mathilde appreciated Mary’s talent and independent accomplishments, but she assumed a somewhat parental role in the partnership because of Mary’s relative youth, her illness, and her unfamiliarity with Europe.

Mathilde’s joyous and profound love for Mary connected her feelings and her principles. With her critique of marriage already public record, her personal letters show how much she valued intense human connection. It seems that Mathilde was committed to promoting equal relationships in part because she believed that passion and intimacy were essential for humans to thrive. Her rather untraditional marriage to Fritz had for a time fulfilled her, but in 1859 she told him that although she cared for him as the father of their children, they no longer loved each other “like lovers.”³⁹ After they separated for good in 1861, Mathilde did not show any romantic interest in men. Mary, on the other hand, did. She and Lassalle flirted with each other, for example, and on one trip away, she wrote playfully to Mathilde, “I wish you could be here with us, & me especially, but until I have you again I must content myself with Lassalle.”⁴⁰ Mary’s letters hint that Mathilde was somewhat jealous, but Mathilde’s understanding of love generally elided distinctions between the platonic and the sexual. Mathilde’s relationships did not shock her contemporaries, but they were radical because they enacted her vision of a transformed world.

Mathilde’s life did not end with Mary’s death in 1865. She went on to run a private girls’ school in Milwaukee called the Töchter-Institut (Daughters’ Institute) and to become Wisconsin’s foremost proponent of woman suffrage.⁴¹ When Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B. Anthony formed the National Woman Suffrage Association in 1869, Mathilde served as one of its vice presidents.⁴² As might be expected, historians have not completely ignored this remarkable woman, but Anglophone readers lack a full-length biography and professional translations of her writing. We hope these letters introduce more people to the trousered woman on horseback who infused her American activism with the spirit of 1848.

1. We use the first names of Mathilde, Fritz, and Mary Booth to reflect the familiar tone of their letters and avoid confusing the two Annekes. Like them, we refer to Sherman Booth, who fell outside the circle of intimacy, as “Booth.”

2. Mathilde Franziska Anneke, Memoiren einer Frau aus dem badisch-pfälzischen Feldzuge (Newark, N.J.: Buchdruckerei von F. Anneke, 1853).

3. Anke Ortlepp, “Deutsch-Athen Revisited: Writing the History of Germans in Milwaukee,” in Perspectives on Milwaukee’s Past, ed. Margo Anderson and Victor Greene (Champaign, Ill.: University of Illinois Press, 2009), 124.

4. The most reliable source for Mathilde’s early life is Karin Hockamp, “Von vielem Geist und großer Herzensgüte”: Mathilde Franziska Anneke, 1817–1884 (Bochum: Brockmeyer, 2012), 11–16. Researchers should be aware that there are many errors in biographies of Mathilde, including the often-cited Maria Wagner, Mathilde Franziska Anneke in Selbstzeugnissen und Dokumenten (Frankfurt am Main: Fischer, 1980). For coverage of the 1850s and 1860s, we recommend Mischa Honeck, We Are the Revolutionists: German-Speaking Immigrants and American Abolitionists after 1848 (Athens, Ga.: University of Georgia Press, 2011), 104–36.

5. Quoted in Hockamp, Von vielem Geist und großer Herzensgüte, 15. On the marriage, see also Wilhelm Schulte, “Die Gieslers aus Blankenstein: Ein Beitrag zur märkischen Kulturund Familiengeschichte,” Der Märker 9, no. 5 (1960): 127.

6. Annette Hanschke, “Frauen und Scheidung im Vormärz: Mathilde Franziska Anneke. Ein Beitrag zum Scheidungsrecht und zur Scheidungswirklichkeit von Frauen im landrechtlichen Preußen,” Geschichte in Köln 34 (1993): 70–75.

7. Hockamp, Von vielem Geist und großer Herzensgüte, 16–18.

8. Mathilde Franziska Tabouillot, “Das Weib im Conflict mit den socialen Verhältnissen,” self-published pamphlet, [1846–1847], Box 6, Folder 7, Fritz Anneke and Mathilde Franziska Anneke Papers, Wisconsin Historical Society, Madison (hereafter simply “Anneke Papers”). For excerpts, see also Mathilde Franziska Anneke, “Das Weib im Konflikt mit den sozialen Verhältnissen,” in Frauenemanzipation im deutschen Vormärz: Texte und Documente, ed. Renate Möhrmann (Stuttgart: Philipp Reclam, 1978), 82–87.

9. Jonathan Sperber, Rhineland Radicals: The Democratic Movement and the Revolutions of 1848–1849 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1991), 63. See also Bruce Levine, The Spirit of 1848: German Immigrants, Labor Conflict, and the Coming of the Civil War (Urbana, Ill.: University of Illinois Press, 1992), 19–41; James J. Sheehan, German History, 1770–1866 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1989), 451–524.

10. James Sheehan, “The German States and the European Revolution,” in Revolution and the Meanings of Freedom in the Nineteenth Century, ed. Isser Woloch (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1996), 259–60; Sperber, Rhineland Radicals, 92–94; James Sheehan, German Liberalism in the Nineteenth Century (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1978); Brian E. Vick, Defining Germany: The 1848 Frankfurt Parliamentarians and National Identity (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2002).

11. Wilhelm Schulte, Fritz Anneke: Ein Leben für die Freiheit in Deutschland und in den USA (Dortmund: Historischer Verein Dortmund, 1961), 10–11; Dieter Dowe, Aktion und Organisation: Arbeiterbewegung, sozialistische und kommunistische Bewegung in der preußischen Rheinprovinz, 1820–1852 (Hannover: Verlag für Literatur und Zeitgeschehen, 1970), 69–74, 113–29.

12. Schulte, Fritz Anneke, 23–24.

13. David McLellan, Karl Marx: A Biography (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006), 177–81; Levine, Spirit of 1848, 41–42.

14. Schulte, Fritz Anneke, 27, 31. See also Wilfried Korngiebel, “Die Neue Rheinische Zeitung und die Neue Kölnische Zeitung, 1848/49,” in “Die Vernunft befiehlt uns frei zu sein!” Mathilde Franziska Anneke: Demokratin, Frauenrechtlerin, Schriftstellerin, ed. Karin Hockamp, Wilfried Korngiebel, and Susanne Slobodzian (Münster: Westfälisches Dampfboot, 2018), 59–84.

15. Schulte, Fritz Anneke, 36–38.

16. Anneke, Memoiren einer Frau aus dem badisch-pfälzischen Feldzuge.

17. Kathleen Neils Conzen, Immigrant Milwaukee: Accommodation and Community in a Frontier City (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1976), 14.

18. Alison Clark Efford, German Immigrants, Race, and Citizenship in the Civil War Era (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2013), 17–51.

19. Mathilde to Alexander Jonas, April 26, 1877. Gerhard K. Friesen, “A Letter from M. F. Anneke: A Forgotten German American Pioneer in Women’s Rights,” Journal of German-American Studies, 12, no. 2 (1977): 36.

20. Efford, German Immigrants, Race, and Citizenship, 49–50.

21. Honeck, We Are the Revolutionists, 107, 105.

22. Diane S. Butler, “The Public Life and Private Affairs of Sherman M. Booth,” Wisconsin Magazine of History 82, no 3 (1999): 169.

23. Manisha Sinha, The Slave’s Cause: A History of Abolition (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 2016); Efford, German Immigrants, Race, and Citizenship, 53–85.

24. Ella Lonn, Foreigners in the Union Army and Navy (Baton Rouge, La.: Louisiana State University Press, 1951), 581–82.

25. On the United States as an ideal, see Don H. Doyle, The Cause of All Nations: An International History of the American Civil War (New York: Basic Books, 2014).

26. For overviews, see Thomas Bender, A Nation among Nations: America’s Place in World History (New York: Hill and Wang, 2006); Steven Hahn, A Nation without Borders: The United States and Its World in an Age of Civil Wars, 1830–1910 (New York: Penguin, 2016); Jörg Nagler, Don H. Doyle, and Marcus Gräser, eds., The Transnational Significance of the American Civil War (Cham: Palgrave Macmillan, 2016).

27. See for example Edward Bartlett Rugemer, The Problem of Emancipation: The Caribbean Roots of the American Civil War (Baton Rouge, La.: Louisiana State University Press, 2008); W. Caleb McDaniel, The Problem of Democracy in the Age of Slavery: Garrisonian Abolitionists and Transatlantic Reform (Baton Rouge, La.: Louisiana State University Press, 2013).

28. Along with numerous biographies and older works, see Levine, Spirit of 1848; Efford, German Immigrants, Race, and Citizenship; Kristen Layne Anderson, Abolitionizing Missouri: German Immigrants and Racial Ideology in Nineteenth-Century America (Baton Rouge, La.: Louisiana State University Press, 2017); Andrew Zimmerman, “From the Second American Revolution to the First International and Back Again: Marxism, the Popular Front, and the American Civil War,” in The World the Civil War Made, ed. Gregory P. Downs and Kate Masur (Chapel Hill, N.C.: University of North Carolina Press, 2015), 304–37.

29. Honeck, We Are the Revolutionists. An important book on transatlantic feminism also mentions Mathilde repeatedly. Bonnie S. Anderson, Joyous Greetings: The First International Women’s Movement, 1830–1860 (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000).

30. Although it reproduces transcription errors, the best account is Joey Horsley, “A German-American Feminist and her Female Marriages: Mathilde Franziska Anneke, 1817–1884,” Fembio, accessed July 30, 2020, http://www.fembio.org/english/biography.php/woman/biography_extra/mathilde-franziska-anneke.

31. Mary to Mathilde, 1862, p. 214; Mathilde to Mary, 1864, p. 283.

32. Lillian Faderman, Surpassing the Love of Men: Romantic Friendship and Love between Women from the Renaissance to the Present (New York: William Morrow and Company, 1981), 239–331.

33. Martha Vicinus, “The History of Lesbian History,” Feminist Studies 38 (2012): 566–96.

34. The two pioneering works were Carroll Smith-Rosenberg, “The Female World of Love and Ritual: Relations between Women in Nineteenth-Century America,” Signs 1 (1975): 1–29; Faderman, Surpassing the Love of Men.

35. Lesbian historians worry that setting a scrupulously high bar for lesbianism not only denies it a history, but also ignores the historical role of sexuality. See especially Terry Castle, The Apparitional Lesbian: Female Homosexuality and Modern Culture (New York: Columbia University Press, 1993); Judith M. Bennett, “The L-Word in Women’s History,” in History Matters: Patriarchy and the Challenge of Feminism (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2006), 108–27; Martha Vicinus, “Lesbian History: All Theory and No Facts or All Facts and No Theory?” Radical History Review 60 (1994): 57–75.

36. See Marylynne Diggs, “Romantic Friends or a ‘Different Race of Creatures’? The Representation of Lesbian Pathology in Nineteenth-Century America,” Feminist Studies 21 (1995): 317–40; Lisa Moore, “‘Something More Tender Still than Friendship’: Romantic Friendship in Early-Nineteenth-Century England,” Feminist Studies 18 (1992): 499–520.

37. Dáša Frančíková, “Romantic Friendship: Exploring Modern Categories of Sexuality, Love, and Desire between Women,” in Understanding and Teaching U.S. Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender History, ed. Leila J. Rupp and Susan K. Freeman, 2nd ed. (Madison, Wisc.: University of Wisconsin Press, 2017), 143–52. For an example of such analysis, see Martha Vicinus, Intimate Friends: Women Who Loved Women, 1778–1928 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004).

38. Mary to Jane Corss, February 15, 1859, p. 33.

39. Mathilde to Fritz, [June or July] 1859, p. 44.

40. Mary to Mathilde, [July 1863], Box 5, Folder 1, Anneke Papers.

41. On the school, see Anke Ortlepp, “Auf denn, Ihr Schwestern!”: Deutschamerikanische Frauenvereine in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, 1844–1914 (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner, 2004), 153–59.

42. Annette P. Bus, “Mathilde Anneke and the Suffrage Movement,” in German Forty-Eighters in the United States, ed. Charlotte L. Brancaforte (New York: Peter Lang, 1989), 79–92.