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Title: The stone wall
An autobiography
Author: Mary Casal
Ruth Fuller Field
Release date: February 15, 2026 [eBook #77938]
Language: English
Credits: Thanks to Adam Buchbinder, Jens Sadowski, and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STONE WALL ***
THE STONE WALL
THE STONE WALL
AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY
By MARY CASAL
CHICAGO
EYNCOURT PRESS
MCMXXX
Copyright, 1930, by The Eyncourt Press
Printed in the U.S.A.
PREFACE
If you do not want to hear the truth about things which have been
greeted with that most dangerous weapon, “S-s-s-sh,” don’t read this
book, said weapon being to my mind more dangerous to the development of
the human mind and soul than the machine gun is to the body of a man
placed in front of the firing line.
I believe the time has come when there should be less secrecy about
matters which are at the root of many evils of today. Not a new thought.
Many are thinking along those lines and many are accepting very frank
articles now written on sex problems which bear on the conduct of the
youth of today.
Novels are being written dealing in open terms with the so-called normal
types of humans, leading one through the various channels of lovemaking
and the resultant episodes, leaving nothing to the imagination, but
supplying a few asterisks to conform to the ideas of the snooping
reformers and self-appointed censors.
This book is not fiction. I am writing of my own life; my actual
experiences from my earliest recollection to the age of nearly seventy
years.
Many will declare it to have been an abnormal life. I do not believe
every woman has been through all the experiences that I have (I
certainly hope not for their sakes), but I do believe that every woman
has had some of the problems that I have had to face.
Many will deny a knowledge of any of them, afraid to acknowledge even to
themselves the whole truth. In judging reactions in a child’s mind, I
ask the readers of today to remember that I was born in 1864, and also
to realize the atmosphere of the home life of that period.
I expect to speak openly of things which, in the modern novel, are
represented by asterisks; on the stage by the lowering of the curtain;
in the press many times without restriction, but as ordinary “news” to
sell the paper, and in conversation by a rising of the eyebrows or a
shrug of the shoulders.
It has taken courage to bare the facts of an extraordinary life, but it
is done with the sincere hope that it may throw light from a new and
different angle on the effort of the parent to understand children, and
also to bring out the thought that without truth nothing may be
accomplished in this life.
CHAPTER I
A few plants of mullein, commonly known in the East as “Indian tobacco,”
showed themselves in my garden. Weeds. They must be hoed up, but the
velvety sage green of the fuzzy leaves held my hand. My mind went back
many years, recalling a sermon I once heard a Unitarian minister preach
on the subject “What is weeds?” He prefaced his talk with the recital of
an experience in his garden one morning, when a small boy, peeping
through the fence, asked the usual question “What yer doin’?” The
minister answered: “I’m pulling up weeds.” “What is weeds?” asked the
boy. The memory of that sermon stayed with me for many years and now
asserted itself. Who shall determine that such is a weed which must be
hoed up because it always has been? Those mullein “weeds” grew and
flourished, carefully tended as were the legitimate flowers in the
garden. How grateful they seemed. The leaves broadened and covered much
space. The glimpse of that wonderful Corot green daily went to my heart
as the pictures from that great artist’s hand had ever done.
The first year, the leaves, catching the sparkling frost in the early
morning, or the raindrops clinging in jeweled splendor and again the
gentle dew, gave a varied tint that ever seemed to speak to me in
gratitude for the care and interest I had given the despised weed.
The second summer found the flower stalk rising to heights unknown in
its wild state. Many were the friends who “Never would have thought of
bothering with a weed” but who stood in admiration before that bed of
mullein.
Live things have always interested me. Full of vitality, I have always
entered into work or play with great enthusiasm. I believe I have
excelled in both. There are times now, at the age when I have become
less active, when I feel that perhaps I was one of the “weeds” that
should have been pulled up and thrown away.
Does one often have the courage to tell the whole truth about himself or
herself? I am going to do it, come what may. Do we all have two lives to
lead? I have led two distinct lives all my life. I should be much over a
century in years if each life were to be spread out along separate
lines. In both of these lives I have been absolutely sincere.
I do not expect to solve any great problem, nor have I a cure for the
many ills of society of today. I have a fairly good answer to the
question, “Why are we all liars?” Oh yes, we are, and you know it, and
we have been all of our lives. We have all lived the most cruel,
heartbreaking lies. I know why I have done so, and I believe many will
acknowledge that the shoe fits them so well that they will be able to
put it on and walk right out of the shop wearing it.
I have read many works on adolescence and on matters of sex, but nearly
always they are filled mainly with theories and couched in such language
that it is hard for the lay mind always to grasp the meaning. There will
be nothing to follow here that all may not understand.
I was born in the country, in New England, of poor, because honest,
parents. Maternally from that prolific Mayflower stock of Puritans, and
paternally from an artistic line of English origin—musicians and
painters largely—with views somewhat broader than the “May Blossoms.”
I was born, then, in 1864, the ninth and last of a flock. My brothers
and sisters used to comfort me with the statement that our parents were
so disgusted when they saw me, that they would not order any more. In
later years I would retort that when they reached perfection they
canceled all further orders.
When playtime years arrived my only companions were boys—one brother and
three cousins who lived just across the road. My tastes ran naturally to
boys’ sports and the out-of-doors life. To this fact I have always
attributed my masculine tastes in dress and otherwise. I have always
felt most at ease in tailored suits, low-heeled shoes, using large
handkerchiefs, etc. I have felt that I must be physically comfortable to
do my best work. I have simply ignored convention in dress; hence I
believe I have done some good work. I have enjoyed smoking all of my
life. Before women smoked as openly as they do now, I excused my doing
so by saying that I played with boys in my younger days and had to smoke
in order to do so, as they were afraid I might “tell” on them otherwise.
Nothing could ever induce me to play with dolls. How I hated one that
was given to me one Christmas when I so longed for a jack-knife! My
disappointment was so keen that my father loaned me his bright
copper-handled knife with instructions that I should sit in one place on
the big roots of a huge elm tree and whittle a particular stick which he
gave me. What joy! In less than five minutes the family was summoned by
my shrieks! I had cut the first finger of my left hand right through the
first joint, and there it hung by the skin underneath. My oldest sister
promptly broke the heads off a few matches from a card of the same, put
the splint under the finger joint and bound it up with a strip of cotton
cloth from the “sick bag.” Today there is not even a scar, and I have
had the use of a perfectly good finger with a normally movable joint all
of my life. Thinking of the great advance which has been made in first
aid devices and the skill which has been acquired in surgery, makes me
tremble to think of what might have been my loss if that accident had
happened in recent years.
“Out with the boys” was my slogan and my joy. Sports! How I loved their
games, and I might say “my games,” for my imagination was ever as alert
as theirs and they were equally as keen about my suggestions as they
were about their own. My brother, however, was looked upon as the real
“boss” as he was the oldest of the group.
The old family homestead where my cousins lived, and the farm
opposite—my home—were the scenes of real and celebrated Indian battles
in the early days. We knew the stories of these bloody fights so well
that we lived them over in our imagination and, barring the blood, they
figured in all of our plays.
We had wonderful collections of Indian arrowheads, spears, mortars and
pestles, and pottery, which we picked up here and there all over our
farms. In the fall, we rejoiced in the wigwams made of stacked-up
cornstalks, a bit more than did our forefathers, I fancy.
Of course I was made to sew and knit and do all the conventional things
that a New England girl was supposed to do, but my stint was a nightmare
and nearly always done while the boys waited impatiently outside of the
window. The games were not complete without me, as I matched them in
skill and surpassed them in some of the contests.
When they had work to do I was only too happy to pitch in and do my
share. Their work always seemed so much more interesting than mine.
There was some sense in piling wood, splitting kindling, pulling weeds,
and going for the cows, but to see my mother cut perfectly good pieces
of calico up into tiny pieces and fix them for me to sew together again
seemed so futile! Poor mothers of those days! Nowadays, work in that
line is mostly done in schools, and made very enticing.
My joy was complete when I was allowed to wear boy’s clothes when
out-of-doors at play. I fancy that this digression from the conventional
was allowed by my mother as a labor saving device, as skirts and
petticoats were often in a sad state after a bird’s nest hunt or other
romping games.
I recall a rather amusing episode which I will relate to show that we
were all boys together. We had large collections of birds’ eggs. We were
taught to take but one egg from the nest and never to touch the others.
We took turns climbing high in the trees to get a coveted egg. It was my
turn to climb and the nest was in a very difficult place. I reached it
in good form and placed the egg in my mouth on my return scramble. I was
nearly on the ground when my foot slipped and the egg broke! Oh!
Horrors! It was far too ripe to be palatable and I landed in great
distress of mind and mouth. Nevertheless, I was pounced upon and given a
big beating by the “other boys” who cared not for my discomfort. The
loss of that one egg was long held up to me as a disgrace of major
proportion.
CHAPTER II
In the midst of one of the great and glorious games in the big barns,
when I was in my element, dressed in one of the boy’s suits, it became
necessary for me to retire to the house for pressing reasons. After
questioning as to the seriousness of the matter, and finding that it was
only “bo-bo,” the name we all used for the lesser call of nature, the
boys settled it then and there that it would not be necessary for me to
go to the house as I had on a pair of trousers. They showed me the
little hole in front that was put there conveniently for that very
purpose. We were all quite relieved that the games would not be
interrupted.
They told me to go to the corner, as they had been taught to do, and
turn my back and that seemed to be all the instruction necessary. I
could not seem to fathom the mystery of the said opening as a solution
to my increasing desire to relieve myself. The two seemingly important
things were in evidence. The little hole in the trousers and the
secluded corner—but, what next?
They explained that I must just pull out something before I could
accomplish the act. But there was nothing to pull! I protested. The clan
then assembled in serious conference. First one and then the other tried
to find what they supposed grew on all children alike, but to no avail!
Alas! Nature asserted itself, and I _had_ to go to the house then,
dripping with tears and otherwise crushed and broken, in my fall from
the pedestal of equality with the boys. I went straight to my mother
and, through tears of disgrace and rebellion, tried to tell her that I
was not made right and telling her freely all that had happened.
The result? I was promptly spanked during the course of changing my
clothes. I was given the ever-to-be-detested sewing and made to stay in
the house, without one word of explanation as to why. I believe my
terror of the truth and my loss of confidence in my mother began at that
moment. I was not allowed to wear trousers for a long time. I presume it
was felt that the spanking had given me the clue that another would
follow if there should be a repetition of the episode. Possibly the
greatly increased basket of mending had something to do with my mother’s
finally yielding to my entreaties for the boy’s clothes. Until then I
had always been conscious of the contempt of the boys and my pride was
suffering.
When at last I appeared “clothed in my right mind,” as I felt, my
self-respect restored, and hoping my standing with the boys would be
back to normal, I was fairly happy. Yet I sincerely believe we were even
then wondering about things.
Was that method used by my mother wise? According to her lights it must
have been. Tradition ruled.
How much better it would have been for our parents to have frankly
discussed the sex questions as they were raised, and to have explained
the reasons for the difference in anatomy between boys and girls. How
much could have been saved for the generations which followed. But they
were so bound to tradition they simply could not bring themselves to
such a course.
To my mind, that was the time all of the wonderful truths of creation
should have been explained to us in a beautiful way. When the child is
capable of wondering is the time to explain without reserve.
What was the result of the method used by my mother? There followed
frequent discussions between us children regarding our discovery of the
difference in our make-up. If I had been punished for telling about it,
it must be something worthy of investigation. It was definitely decided
that it would never do to go to my mother with any further tales of such
discussions or investigations. It was decided that it was only a case of
lack of development in my parts; that the little lip which had been
pulled and hauled at the time I was trying not to interrupt the game by
going to the house, would grow and become like that of the boys.
My disgust that I had not in the beginning been created a real boy,
instead of having to wait for certain parts to develop, began at that
time.
Mystery now connected itself with this difference, whereas formerly
trousers and petticoats were the only marks of difference in sex. When I
wore trousers, I had been a real boy, or so it seemed to all of us.
I could not have been over three or four years old at that time, while
my brother and one cousin were two years older. I often hear people say
that a child is too young at that age to understand any of the truths of
life. I still maintain that the moment that a child begins to wonder is
the time for reasonable explanations. A child is a rational human being
the moment he is conscious of the difference between yes and no.
I know I would have understood why I was spanked on that momentous
occasion if it had been explained to me, else why have that episode and
the mental reactions it engendered remained in my mind all these years?
Secret sessions were now being held at intervals, first with my older
cousin and with my brother. Their curiosity was much greater than mine.
It was enough for me to have to bear the disgrace of being the alien.
But from that time on I was forced to submit to these sessions under the
threat of not being allowed to join in the sports I so dearly loved. I
simply had to acknowledge the superiority of the male because he was so
much more perfectly and conveniently made.
The two older boys must have gained some knowledge of the sort they
would get from the “hired men” or older boys at school, as they kept up
the demands upon me. Not often, but occasionally. At first it seemed to
be a matter wholly of curiosity. They seemed to be watching for
developments as to my becoming like unto them. In a way, this also
interested me as I remember my dismay each time when “no progress” was
reported. We were bound to secrecy for obvious reasons. The lesson in
deceit was well learned by this time. Most parents believe that when any
question bearing on the matters of sex or pertaining to “private parts”
(what a disastrous appellation!) arises, one good spanking will put an
end to all trouble; whereas it is just the beginning of a life of deceit
and the birth of a barrier to confidences between parents and children.
I am not trying to prove an alibi by saying that I was not keen on these
sessions of adventure. I really do believe it was the terror of giving
up the sports with the boys which were my very joy. It was done in much
the same spirit as was the work in the house I had to do: a means to an
end.
I had work to do regularly. It was never made interesting for me, as I
have made it for lots of children during my adult life, but it was
demanded of me as it was my duty! Duty! I believe every child hates that
word. We better understand the futility of that argument in after years,
but in our youth we are unable to reply: “We did not ask to come into
the world. We are the price or perhaps the reward. You probably did not
want us. You talk of our duty to our parents. What is your duty to us?”
However I never liked to sew or knit or wash dishes or sweep, but I did
it every day and never sulked. I had a sister, older than I, who also
hated to do the dishes. She always cried her task through and my mother
placed a board up over the sink and every time my sister cried mother
would make a chalk mark on the board. When there were many marks, sister
would cry harder than ever, so I believe the experiment was given up.
I was always merry. While I have boasted that I was never whipped in
school, I realize it was due to the fact that I often got the teacher
laughing before the fatal blow fell, and in that way I escaped the usual
whipping. In those days it was never “Did you get a whipping today?” but
“How many times?”
I worked rapidly, as the incentive was nearly always right outside of
the window, in the shape of three boys waiting for me to come out to
play.
As time went on a great discovery was made by the older boys, that their
little organs had life and vitality. How important they felt! They had
to show me how wonderful this was. Privately, of course, as neither boy
wanted the other to know of his sessions with me. We had now given up
all hopes that there would be any development in my anatomy, and we had
to submit to the fact that I was and always would be different and on a
lower level than they. This was a heartbreaker for me.
I do not want to give the impression that our minds were always on the
subject, as might seem by this account. We had wonderful games, mostly
of our own inventing. We hunted Indian relics with enthusiasm, digging
for days in order to find every piece of an Indian pot which had,
without doubt, been buried in some grave. We took long tramps in the
woods, hunting imaginary wild animals. We played ball in the summer and
coasted and skated in the winter. We built up strong and vigorous bodies
without the aid of vitamins or calories. In short, we were normal
children—the same as many children are today. Thanks be, there are some
parents who have opened their eyes! It is my hope that this tale will
pry open a few more.
It was not long before the idea seemed to dawn upon us that there must
be some reason why a boy and a girl were differently made. I never knew
where the boys got their information. I never cared. When I expressed
any surprise that they knew so much, I was only given the answer that
“boys knew those things,” and did not wish to enlarge upon the fact that
caused me so much pain.
Some vague explanation seemed to come from watching the animals about
the farm. We had been piously told not to look when a rooster was on top
of a hen, as it was “naughty.” What greater incentive could a child have
than to be told that? Of course we stared our eyes out to find out what
was “naughty” about that silly act.
It did not seem to hurt the hen or the rooster. We gathered just as many
eggs. The hens all went about their scratching just as before. No one
was punished, so the inference was that the parents did not know what
they were talking about, and I believe we were about right. Experiments
followed in “playing hen and rooster,” always on the sly and never
understanding why, while I felt the ever increasing degradation of
having to play the part of the inferior and submissive “hen”!
I hated these games, which thanks be, were not frequent, but endured
them for fear I would be denied the joys of the other and more appealing
games.
In this analysis of my earliest recollections my object has been to
determine whether my early propensities were of a sexual character. If
this book is to be of any value in solving any problem, it would be my
desire to speak just as freely of any satisfaction I derived from these
experiments as I do of the disgust. I do not mean physical satisfaction,
of course, but they were really not interesting to me, even as a matter
of curiosity.
CHAPTER III
I must have been about eight or nine years old when another experience
came into my life. Living as I did on a farm, I was ever on the alert
about any happenings outside of the house. Indoors meant certain
feminine affairs which never interested me. I did not object to work. I
have never been lazy.
As I look back now on those early days I believe that I was rather
imposed upon by my brother. I would work my hands sore doing his
“chores” or helping him, in return for a special promise of a race on
horseback or some other sport, which was my life.
In the spring, when the “river broke up” and the great cakes of ice
started down, there would come the great “flood.”
When I look at that “great river” now, I smile to see it as a narrow
little mill stream diverted from a small, but very beautiful tributary
to the Connecticut. However, it looked large to us in those days. That
spring flood was as important and exciting to us as the great flood was
to the children of Noah.
We were not allowed to go near the swollen stream but as a safer way we
were sent to the big barn where we could see from some of the high
windows, the meadows covered with water.
The proverbial “hired man” was, of course, in the barn, as the heavy
rain made outside work impossible. As I was a girl (perhaps), and a bit
shorter than the boys, the hired man lifted me up to a high window where
I could see as much of the “flood” as the boys who were perched on the
high beams. Suddenly I felt a hand under my clothes and this beast of a
man was fumbling about. I was furious and quickly scrambled out of his
arms. He whispered to me to keep still and, if I told, he would throw me
into the flood. He never touched me again but would try to bribe me to
go to the barn, which I always refused to do. I imagine it was not easy,
as candy was a rare thing in our young lives. All my instincts were
against any contact with that man, and I finally told him if he ever
spoke to me again I would tell my father and he would be sent away.
From that episode I realize that my natural instincts were not along
sexual lines. I have known girls of that age who have told me that it
was fun to have some one play with their privates.
Why I should have submitted to that sort of thing with the two boys is
obvious. I was simply paying the price of companionship.
There was a third family in the little group of homes in the
neighborhood where we lived. These people were very close friends of my
parents. The man and his wife were both very musical, and their little
boy was one of my group of playmates. Music was my father’s profession,
before he lost his voice for concert work and went to farming. Our home
was the musical center, not only of the neighborhood, but of the town,
even though we lived two and a half miles away.
My father still had a charming tenor voice and the neighbor, whom we
will call Mr. Wiggins, had a very deep bass. His wife always accompanied
the singing feasts. I was in my element at these times, for I loved all
music. To me, at that time, it was of course just the beautiful sounds
and the harmony of the two voices that thrilled me. It was a veritable
soul feast. I would sit for hours and listen to their music, enjoying it
as keenly as I always did the sports out-of-doors.
Mr. Wiggins was something of a god to me. I would marvel over his deep,
rich, bass voice. In many ways it touched me even more than my father’s
tenor. As I said, my father’s voice was on the wane and when it will be
remembered that I was the ninth child, it will be understood that he
could not be in his prime. He kept up his teaching for a long time,
however.
The young son was never admitted to the inner secrets of the “private
investigation committee,” although he joined in our sports.
There were no so-called desirable girls in the neighborhood for me to
play with, so my parents thought. I fully agreed with them, as the girls
always wanted to play dolls, a thing I considered utterly futile.
Often it is said that a girl’s love for dolls is indicative of her
future love for her children or for children in general. I never could
make a doll seem real to me. I could look upon a tomahawk which I had
carefully carved from wood, as a real weapon, but not so with a puppet.
But I loved taking care of and playing with a real baby. The only one
available in my early life belonged to a Swedish couple who worked for
my uncle and lived in one of the little farm houses quite remote from
our home. The Swedish mother was very glad to give the baby over to my
tender mercies, whenever I appeared. It throve in spite of, rather than
because of, I fear, the care I gave it. Not that I abused it, but my
arms were not long nor were they capable of adjustment about a wiggling
husky baby boy. It was always referred to as “my baby.”
I remember that I always applied to the mother when a change of garments
was imperative. To me now this fact seems rather significant in that,
although I had been instructed in the anatomical differences between boy
and girl, I had no further curiosity, as I would have had if my mind had
been sexually warped. Every time my mind was directed to the thought of
the male there was only further rebellion over the fact that I was not
created a boy.
* * * * *
One might think that most of my life had been spent in the discussion of
matters pertaining to sex. When instances of precocious sexual behavior
have been brought to my attention, I have in a very few words gone right
to the bottom of the cause and effect and then dropped the subject. The
knowledge I have thus gained I have found to be of great value in the
life which I have led.
There has always been some quality in my make-up to inspire confidence
of young and old. I have ever adopted the attitude of sympathetic
interest. When problems came up for which I felt, in my wide experience,
I had an answer, I believe I have helped many towards their solution.
Now to go back to the “musical evenings” and the events which followed.
The three families of which I have spoken in our little neighborhood
group, while occupying three separate houses, were like one great
family. The children were in and out of each house with equal freedom
and the several cookie jars were open to all.
There was a fourth house where the children loved to go. The old uncle
and aunt who lived there, childless, were both deaf and dumb and in
their house we were never “sushed.”
The old uncle was a mender of shoes, for our own families mainly, and he
was kept very busy repairing the scuffed-out toes and soles for three
families of lively children. I used to go often, by myself, to watch the
process of making the waxed end and fastening on the hog’s bristles for
a needle. I was allowed to help at times, and in those days I firmly
believed that to be a shoemaker was the goal at which I aimed. I loved
to work with my hands. I do not mean any thing as senseless as to sew a
fine seam or wash dishes, but in any other craft where carpenter’s tools
or like implements were used, I was in my glory.
One day I was shoe-mending with my uncle, when Mr. Wiggins came in with
a piece of harness to be mended, while he waited. As he sat down I
happened to notice that his trousers were not fastened in front and told
him of it as quickly and as innocently as I would have told my father.
As I was not allowed to “help” with his job of mending, I soon started
out to find something more interesting to do, thinking no more of the
occurrence of the trousers.
As I started for the door Mr. W. told me to wait in the shed for him, as
he wanted to see me. Of course I did as I was told. He came out and led
me to a dark corner of the shed and told me to be quiet and he would
show me something nice. He then proceeded to expose himself. I started
to get away but he lifted me up in his arms and held me tightly. I
begged him to let me go, but he threatened me with an awful whipping if
I did not stay and be quiet. Not that he expected the deaf people in the
house would hear me if I cried out, but my own house was near. He made
me take hold of that awful member and then he kissed me in the most
disgusting way, which fairly made me sick, and I gagged so that he had
to let me go. He told me if I ever told anyone he would kill me. Of
course, I was terribly frightened and upset and—whom could I tell? On
the next musical evening I pretended I did not feel well and wanted to
go to bed soon after supper.
I could not bear to hear that glorious bass voice and buried my head
under the clothes so I could not hear it. One of my gods had fallen. How
I suffered! I have never heard a deep bass voice since without the
events which I have just mentioned, and others which followed, flashing
across my mind. My preference for that quality of voice was destroyed.
CHAPTER IV
After spending much of a long life trying to bury all of the unhappiness
which has come into my life, it is a rather hard task to bring all of
these things to life again.
While I suppose I have always been conscious of the events of my life, I
do not want to give the impression that I have always been brooding over
them. They were, to me, past and I have had great happiness out of the
present, though with it new sorrows. I was born to be happy. The life
that people have known, loved, and even admired, has been absorbing to
me, and I have been able almost to forget the shadows which have come
into my life and which I believe come into most lives.
Soon after the experience in the shed at my deaf and dumb uncle’s house,
I was sent to the Wiggins’ house on an errand. I went right in, called
as I always did, and found that there was no one there but Mr. W. As my
errand was with Mrs. W., I turned to go, but he caught me and drew me
into a dark hallway. I struggled to get away but he held me, loosened my
underclothes, and did something which hurt me dreadfully and made me
scream with pain. He held his hand over my mouth and frightened me with
awful threats. If I told anyone, my father would kill him, and then my
father would be hung for doing so. In my terror I kept still.
I felt sick and sore all day and for several days. I did not play. When
I went to bed mother went with me. How I wanted to tell her what had
happened, but I was terrified.
I realize now that even though I was very young for maturity, my mother
must have had it in her mind and was on the lookout for it, as I had
been so mopey and quiet, not caring to play as usual.
Much to my horror I discovered some blood on my underclothes and tried
to hide it, thinking my mother would know just how it came there, and
probably picturing immediate murders, battles, and sudden deaths. Her
eyes were keen and she asked me if I had hurt myself in any way and of
course I said “no,” trembling the while inside. “Well,” she said, “It is
nothing to worry about, this happens to all little girls when they are
about your age.” She then fixed a cloth for me to wear and told me to
call her before I dressed in the morning. I clearly remember that night
of terror. The dread of that morning! I thought, of course, as she said
it was “what happened to all little girls,” that she knew, as I did,
where the blood came from and that the next day was to be one of murder
and bloody history in my young life.
Why, oh why was I a girl! Such a curse! Small wonder that I thought so.
Morning came, and nothing happened. I was told there would not be any
more blood and I must be a little quiet that day. I was glad to be quiet
for I was still very sore and uncomfortable. I felt relieved, as what my
mother told me corroborated what Mr. W. had said, that he would not hurt
me again.
What an influence that event has had, all through my later life, in
dealing with adolescence, as an argument for the enlightenment of youth
on questions of life and sex! But I have never before given this reason
in support of that argument.
Can anyone imagine a more dreadful thought than to have been given the
impression which I received from my mother—that it was normal and usual
that some man should sever that delicate tissue, so frightening a little
girl that she dared not cry out in rebellion? Another and a more
dreadful reason why I should so rebel at being a girl! That was the only
information my mother ever gave me about coming to maturity. At least,
nothing else that she may have said made the slightest impression on my
mind.
Added to the former threats by Mr. W. were the assurances that if I
told, Mrs. W. would probably kill me and there could be no more musical
evenings. I realized, even at that age, that I could not treat him as I
had the hired man. He was the master; a dear friend of the family. I was
not old enough to argue with him, I had but to do his bidding, believing
it to be the penalty one must pay for being a girl. But why the awful
secrecy? I wonder if those arguments in a child were justifiable. Was I
trying to hide under an “alibi”? I know I hated the whole thing and I
believe I am sincere in describing the reactions I experienced at that
time, yet I have always heard it said that a girl need never be led
astray. I do believe that now, but with so young a child I hardly think
such a theory holds good. I certainly was not seduced; I was forced into
that situation.
In short, I was a slave to that man for several years. When he told me
to go to a certain place, I had to go and endure the most awful things
at his pleasure. I was never one to go away by myself, and I grew very
sly in my maneuvers to get away from the rest of the “boys”. I knew that
if they saw me going away, they would surely follow, as they would think
I had discovered a bird’s nest or some other marvel of nature. If they
should ever discover the real reason of my going, then would come the
dire calamities predicted by Mr. W. I surely learned the arts of
strategy and intrigue.
These meetings were not so very often, but I never went out to my play
without the fear that I might see the signal for me to go down to the
woods.
During the earlier sessions he was apparently very careful not to hurt
me, using his finger to “make the place big,” as he said. It was
painful, however, each time he touched me, I begged him not to ask me to
come again. But again the threats, so I felt I had to do so. I told him
what my mother said when she saw the blood on my clothes, and he laughed
and said it was a good joke. I failed to see it and told him so.
Finally he accomplished the beastly act which he had made up his mind
to. How I wished I had never told him that the buttons of his trousers
were not fastened, as I thought that was what led up to all of this
horror! I suffered no serious pain at these times and I marveled at his
apparent ecstatic delight. His kisses nauseated me and I was filled with
disgust. The disgrace of the whole thing which I felt must be wrong, in
spite of what my mother had said, took much of the joy from my beloved
games.
I was not wholly cast down, however, but like all normal children I was
able to forget between times. I told no one of this. Mr. W. passed on
many years ago. I realized that perhaps, in a vague way, these meetings
may have been a source of satisfaction to me in that I seemed to be the
agent whereby he gained such joy, but never did I feel a physical
thrill. All of this happened before I reached maturity.
Up to this time, the act had no connection in my mind with the creation
of babies. I simply thought that, as my mother said, “all little girls
had that thing happen to them”; that it was the role of the female to
make the male apparently happy for a few seconds, under the penalty of
death or serious social and family complications, or deprivation of the
much-loved games.
The first intimation that there might be a connection with the advent of
babies came one day which stands out clearly in my memory. It was a cold
winter’s day when my oldest cousin took me for a drive in a sleigh, on
the river, which was frozen solid.
It was a wonderful ride. Tucked into the sleigh with the large warm
buffalo robes, life seemed very full of joy. The woods bordering the
sides of the river with their carpets of snow, sparkling with millions
of diamonds, presented a sight I shall never forget. We drove nearly to
the source of the river when we thought best to turn around, as it was
getting quite narrow.
The horse was stopped and I was asked to go through the old performance!
To desecrate that beautiful spot seemed cruel. I begged him not to do
such things. But no! If I did not comply he would drive home without me.
On our way home my cousin said to me, “Now you may have a baby.” (He was
probably eleven years old). “You must watch, and if you find you want to
spit all the time, you must tell me, for that is the sign that you are
going to have a baby.” I did a lot of thinking and asked a lot of
questions, but he did not seem to have any further information for me.
So I wondered whether I would “spit” the baby up or where it would come
from. I think the idea rather appealed to me. Being the youngest of nine
children, I had always longed for another baby in the family, so that I
could have someone to “boss,” as I was always expected to obey the older
ones. I was warned not to tell anyone of the possibility, and I wondered
how I should explain things when I might appear carrying a baby and
saying that it was mine.
About that time the Swedish woman showed me a smaller baby which she
had. I was so glad, as the other one had become rather heavy for me to
handle. I remember the shouts which went up when I casually remarked
when I got home, that “Sophy had spit up another baby.” I was glad that
I was not asked how I knew so much about babies, for I realized I would
not be able to tell them the truth. For a while after the sleigh ride up
the river I thought I wanted to spit a great deal, in fact I was
punished for doing so, as I was told nice little girls did not do such
things. The matter was soon forgotten.
This reminds me of what a friend of mine told me of her six year old
son. One day he was led home by a very angry mother of a little girl
with whom he had been playing. The angry mother told my friend that
these children had been found lying in the furrow of a plowed field in a
very compromising position.
When the mother had gone home, my friend felt that she must reprimand
her son so she said, “Don’t you know it was very naughty of you to do
such a thing?” She said her son looked up at her with real fear in his
face and said. “Why, she ain’t going to have a baby, is she?” Friend
mother had her first intimation that her baby had ever heard of such
things. She did not discuss the thing further with her son, but thought
it a huge joke. This was told me when I was in college, but I felt I
could then warn her that she was not being fair to her son in not
explaining things to him. But I had not the courage then.
When my mother chided me for expectorating so often I longed to ask her
if she had to do it when she “had” me. But of course that barrier was
ever between us. Forbidden subject! Each morning I would wake up
thinking there might be a baby that day. After a while I grew tired of
trying to make “spit” enough, and the questionings of my cousin ceased.
I recall that in some way my cousin did convey the idea that there might
have been an egg deposited inside of me that day on the ice and that the
baby would come from that egg. Then I wondered whether I would have to
sit on that egg as long and as quietly as a hen did before the baby was
hatched.
How my cousin became so wise I never found out. At my questions, he
would assume a superior air and say, “Oh, boys always know those
things.” Again I lamented the unwise choice of my sex, when that last
egg was laid by my mother.
CHAPTER V
I look back now and realize the training school of deceit founded by the
parents of the olden days in making such a mystery of the simple truths
of life and causing the most beautiful ideas of creation to become so
shamefully distorted in the mind of the child. Things are very different
today. It will be said that many children are enlightened on these
subjects, yet it is my conviction that the knowledge that is doled out
to the children of today is still too superficial. The parents
themselves do not realize the depths of the wondering in the minds of
their children.
One of the favorite sports was camping out. We used to go to a great
pasture not far from the homes, where the underbrush was quite dense,
and make our camp. We would hunt wild game in our imagination and return
to cook whatever names we had given to the various supplies we had
brought from home. Chickens, like children, roamed at will over the two
farms (it will be remembered that both my father and my uncle were
artists and not in sympathy with the conventions of the up-to-date
farmer) and we were allowed often to add a chicken to our menu. It was
probably eaten as being partridge or wild duck, and as such was hugely
enjoyed.
After supper, when it was beginning to grow dusky, we would lie around
the fire and discuss the girls we knew. We used always to talk from the
boys’ viewpoint; it never seemed to occur to the boys that I was a girl,
excepting when they were on the investigation committee. They then
rather thought of me as a female.
They always paid great attention to what I thought of this and that
girl. Not from a sexual standpoint, but as to looks, cleverness in books
or sports, etc. By this time we had broadened our circle of friends, as
we were going to the village two miles away for the higher schools. I
was interested in the girls in the same way as were the boys. I never
thought of discussing any of the boys. In my mind a boy was always sized
up as to his skill in baseball, skating, dancing, and in his studies.
It was never my idea of a girl’s friendship to get together to talk
about the boys. Most girls were of this sort. When I found a girl who
would be fond of the same out-of-doors occupations as I and who would
talk about herself, I enjoyed her. I seemed to be anxious to find out
whether other girls were like myself—in ideas, likes, and dislikes.
To go back a step to pick up one more experience, in order to show what
things were going on over a half century ago. In the little New England
district school near our home the proverbial spelling match was in
progress. As the spaces were rather small for standing room for all of
the pupils at one time, it was necessary for each side to stand two deep
in line and, as in all standing recitations, the hands were to be held
behind the backs. One of the “big boys” was directly back of me and I
suddenly felt something pushed against my hand which, unfortunately, I
recognized and quickly put my hands in front of me, for which I was
promptly sent to my seat. This was a great blow to me as I was one who
usually stood up the longest, and to think that I could not tell the
teacher why I put my hands in front of me was even a greater blow. How I
hated that boy and showed my feelings often, I am afraid! To see him
standing there with such an innocent air, while I had to pay the price
of his filthiness, made me mad.
What was it that kept me from denouncing him then and there? No one
liked him, excepting the teacher. He would have lied out of it and I
would have been dubbed a liar and a tattle-tale, neither of which traits
did I possess.
What a sad creature a professional prostitute must be! I think they must
choose to be of that class. Certainly my early education and training by
the sort of males with whom I came in contact might have led me to that
end, had not my whole nature and instincts revolted violently against
all contact with the male. In this manner I held my position in accepted
“good society” all of my life.
When I hear a doting mother say, as I often do, “My boy or girl tells me
everything!” I smile in sadness, as I well know that the boys and girls
are few and far between who dare to tell their innermost thoughts and
doings to their parents. Because they talk freely about some things, the
parent thinks there is nothing held back. The shame which their
forebears have had drilled into them still has its grip on each
successive generation.
The frankness with which a girl answers her mother today is to my mind
bravado rather than confidence. For instance, a mother of my
acquaintance found in her daughter’s vanity case a protector for the
male during coition, and questioned her daughter in tones severe as to
why she should carry one of these things about with her. The daughter
answered quite nonchalantly, “Why, we girls have to furnish those things
now ourselves or the boys won’t have anything to do with us.” Result:
Mother so stunned she simply had no reply at hand, and young daughter
went on her way, rejoicing probably that said protector was not
confiscated by shocked Mamma and she obliged to swing her toes idly at
home for the evening, labeled “unprotected.” This mother wonders now how
much there may be that she does not dare ask, for fear she will hear the
truth and discover something even worse.
I was considered a “carefully brought up” child. Consider what was going
on right under the very eyes of my parents. They knew as little fifty
years ago as do the parents of today know what problems of sex their
children are having to meet.
How different my own childhood would have been if I had dared tell my
mother the whole truth about myself. I do not believe that a child is
born with a propensity for lying. Sad though it may seem, I believe that
lesson is taught to the tiny tot very early in life. I do think that if
my parents had known the whole truth about me, they would never have
blamed me nor punished me. But the fear that was instilled into me at
the first spanking, when I could see no reason for it, made me afraid
ever after.
For years I fancied that the experience that I had with the boys and men
in my early life might have had its influence on certain traits of
character which puzzled me for many years, and of which I shall speak
later. Now I believe that my nature was normal from the beginning and
that the dislike for men as males was inherent.
A girl once told me of her life and that of her sister when they were
young, and even after they matured, which convinced me more than ever
that I was not of their type. These two girls were brought up in the
country by a city-reared mother, the father having passed on. They were
rich, and the mother was considered very exclusive by the people of
“Main Street.”
She brought city ideas into this small community. Her girls were never
allowed to go to a party, a picnic, or out driving without a chaperone.
Needless to say, the girls did not enjoy much popularity. This girl told
me that she and her sister had almost daily relations with a common old
Irishman who worked about the place, although he had a home and a large
family near by.
These girls seemed to have been greatly thrilled by the experience,
which covered quite a long period of years. They belonged to the next
generation from mine, which is one added proof of the statement that the
problems of sex have been present with all children, from the beginning.
Those thrills were something I could not understand, even at her age at
the time she told me, although I was probably much younger than she when
I was initiated into the mysteries of sex.
I find I am intruding more mature thoughts from time to time, but now I
will go back to my childhood days, as a child.
In our neighborhood there was an “older girl” who was not, for some
unknown reason, considered a desirable member of society. While I was
not forbidden to go to see her, my mother always discouraged my doing
so, which of course stimulated my desire to see her as often as I could.
One afternoon as I went in, I found her in a very angry mood. She told
me she was going to a dance that night and she had “come around” that
morning. I was mystified and asked her what in the world she meant and
where she had been. Then she gave me a very crude and unpleasant
description of the monthly occurrence which I, of course, had in my mind
attributed to the painful manipulations of some man, and that, once
over, would never recur. I did not let her know of these ideas,
naturally, but asked numberless questions. My whole being was in
rebellion that, being a girl, it was to be my lot to go through all
these fearful things, at times most inconvenient, as she laid great
stress on that point, owing to her present predicament.
She went on, however, to enlighten me further as to how to overcome this
difficulty of having the occurrence interfere with her dancing. She
would go out to a very cold brook, fed by water from a mountain spring,
and put her feet in it for a while. The condition would then cease for a
time, so that she could be in comfort as to outside interference, even
though it might give her some pain.
She was also munching cloves by the dozen, as she said they would dry up
her blood and that was good for such things!
She did not use delicate language and while all of this was intensely
interesting, quite making me forget to go home on time, it also
disgusted me still further with my fate.
I ran all the way home and arrived feverish and excited. I probably also
looked very guilty, first for being late and then on account of the
filthy things which had been told me. My mother looked at me sharply and
I saw visions of a spanking and early retirement. I was not disappointed
in these visions and in addition I was definitely forbidden to go to see
that girl again. In a way, I must have reasoned that there was some
justice in that punishment for I did feel that I had been told of things
very nasty. But in reality how unjust all of those punishments were!
Poor mother did not know, however, and she was doing her duty according
to her lights.
I do not think I was ever a disobedient child. I was never whipped at
school but witnessed many of the cruel floggings which were condoned at
that time. I took my spankings at home in much the same spirit that I
did the doses of “Elixir Pro” and “Sulphur and molasses” (Ugh, I can
almost gag at the thought now!) with which we were dosed in the morning
before breakfast, every once in so often. Not knowing why, just a nasty
taste soon forgotten.
In one way I have been glad of those early chastisements, for when I
have had many children under my care, I have been able to handle their
punishments in a far better and more effective way.
To me the natural mischief of children was like the bubbling up of a
spring of clear water. Who would think of filling up that natural spring
with dirt and rubbish to choke it up? A spanking to my mind would have
the same effect on the free animal spirits of the normal growing child.
I have found a child to be the most reasonable of creatures. A
discussion of deeds which are not desirable, with a child whose brain is
not clogged up with all sorts of theories, brings quick and most
satisfactory results.
A child is born with an exaggerated question mark in his brain. I
believe it would not be there if there were not also there sufficient
gray matter to understand the answers to those questions, if the fool
older humans had developed brains enough to have simple but truthful
answers ready for them.
CHAPTER VI
The knowledge I had gained of life in the awful ways which I have
described made me detest anything tending towards the sexual in men or
boys. As playmates and companions I have always preferred them. To
“play” with girls seemed in a way very futile and almost degrading. To
be called a “Tom Boy” never grieved me; in fact, I think I was rather
proud of the epithet than otherwise.
Now came the age when it was wiser for us to go to the village to attend
the higher schools.
At this time came my first impression of a girl as a desirable friend.
“We boys” had discussed certain girls whom we had met at Sunday School
and who used to come occasionally to our homes with their parents to
visit. One of these girls was a conspicuous choice among us all. I was
obliged to join groups of girls rather than boys at the larger schools
as it was not the custom for any one girl to play with the boys and I
did not want to be conspicuous in that regard. The girls were mostly
occupied in talking about the boys, having sweethearts, and so forth.
Never in my life did I tell any one of the knowledge I had gained, but
many of these girls had information galore on subjects which I so
despised.
I hadn’t a sweetheart, nor did I think I ever would want one. I found I
was very much attracted by this one girl, who was also very popular with
all the boys, including my older cousin. I was timid in my approach in
trying to win her attention and interest. I would give her little
trifles of fruit or candy, and felt that I was experiencing toward her
the feeling that was termed love.
I did not get very far in my demonstrations of affection. When I wanted
her to kiss me good night, she made fun of me and said it was silly for
girls to kiss. Still I was strangely stirred by her. I wanted to kiss
her. I wanted to touch her hand, to write little notes to her, but
finally her ridicule ended all outward demonstration and I had to give
it up. A real “boy’s puppy love.” Her charm for me lasted for years,
though we were separated most of the time.
After I had finished my university course and was in Boston for a time,
teaching in a very select girls’ day school on Beacon Hill, this same
girl was studying music with the friend whose music had so attracted me
at my home when I was very young. Fate had thrown my first love in the
old school days into my life again, for we lived together. Her music was
an added charm, but still she would not accept any of my demonstrations
of love.
This recalls an incident which will show that youth has ever been on the
alert for things forbidden in matters of sex.
It was one of my duties to take a group of girls (girls whose names have
often appeared in the select society columns of the press of exclusive
Boston and who belonged to the “First Families”) for a walk around
Louisburg Square. I noticed that they always wanted to pass one house
very frequently, and would beg to go back and forth in front of this
house. There seemed to be a great but secret interest in that one spot.
I questioned one of the maiden dames who owned the school about this,
and she was horrified. She told me that the house was one of the most
notorious houses of assignation in the city.
Without further comment here I will now go back to the grammar school
days.
I was always at the head of my classes, as it was very easy for me to
learn and master the tasks before me. I was popular with both pupils and
teachers. I soon organized a girls’ baseball club, and was captain of
the team. Such a thing was unheard-of before in the annals of the
school. It was always thought as unladylike to play ball. Much more
ladylike to sit and talk about things which to my mind were vulgar and
degrading, thought I. We had a real “nine” and we often won in the
matches with the boys.
Even now, when I am approaching the age of seventy, I sit and listen to
the broadcasting of baseball games with the same enthusiasm, and play
with them as hard as I did many years ago.
Both of my older sisters married when I was quite young. As the youngest
child of the family I was always a pet of the suitors both before and
after they were married. I was showered with gifts of candy and toys by
the one who came from the city and was very rich and by the other who
lived in the village. The latter would take me for long walks and
drives, when my sister was occupied.
When I was about twelve I made my first visit to my sister, who lived in
Boston in the winter and at the seashore in the summer.
My sister’s husband, besides being a very successful business man, was a
talented musician, as was his sister. He played the violin and sang,
while she made a specialty of the piano. When she made visits to our
home, long before my sister was married (as the families were old
friends), I would sit by the hour near the piano to listen to her music.
I was so small that my feet would not touch the floor from the chair in
which I sat. Chopin was my favorite composer, though I did not know his
name. I would indicate by humming some little melody which selection I
wanted her to play. I believe this was considered quite remarkable at my
age. I even delighted in her playing of the scales, they were so
wonderfully well executed.
My sister’s home in the city and at the shore was always a popular
musical and literary center. My joy was very great during that first
visit. Swimming and rowing were my great delight, and my girl friend at
the time, who was a younger sister of one of my sister’s friends, owned
a lovely boat, anchored at a private pier almost in front of my sister’s
house. She was a gentle, quiet girl and I assumed the role of the male
in my care and consideration of her. I could row the best and without
tiring, and it all seemed very natural for us both. I began to feel for
her the same as I did for the girl at school already mentioned, but this
one reciprocated my affection. We were constantly together during the
days. No one seemed to think anything strange of this absorbing
friendship, but rather expected to see us always together. I liked to
kiss her and she always returned my kisses very willingly. When we were
seeing the other part way home after our day together we had the
proverbial long farewells. The only sensation I felt was a great thrill
right at the end of my breast bone. I could feel my heart beating
faster, but there was no desire for anything more than that sweet
response to my love.
We spent many nights together, always in loving embrace, repeating all
the little love sayings, and sleeping in each other’s arms, perfectly
happy. In fact, the sensation was to me so perfect that I never dreamed
there could be any greater happiness involved in physical contact.
One day, when I was preparing for my usual swim, I noticed with dismay
indications that things were occurring which the undesirable girl had
told me of. But I also remembered what she had told me about putting my
feet in cold water, so I went ahead and had my swim. The cold water did
not seem to function and I was in a dilemma as to how I should conceal
things from my sister, to whom I had never even broached such subjects.
I felt that I would be disgraced for life if anyone knew that the awful
blight was upon me. The cold bath did function to bring on severe pains
and, before morning, I was obliged to let my sister know what was the
matter. She surprised me with a great scolding, and told me how naughty
it was for me to go into the water at such a time, and said I was never
to do it again. She probably did something for the pain I was having,
but the unfair scolding took hold of my thoughts. Why couldn’t she have
been reasonable and have explained things to me? Of course I did not
tell her about my only source of information on the subject, nor, alas!
could I tell her that my mother told me all about things, because she
had not done so.
How I writhed in pain, and more so in rebellion, at being doomed to bear
that degrading weakness all of my life! From that time on I always
suffered intensely at every period.
After that wonderful summer with my sister and the sweet girl with whom
I was, as I thought, deeply in love, new plans were made for me for the
opening term of school.
I realized later that, as I had now reached maturity, it was felt that
there might be times when it would not be wise for me to take the long
walks to and from school. Arrangements were made for me to board through
the week with a very dear friend of my mother’s, going home on Friday
nights and returning Monday morning.
I was now absorbed in the frequent letters from my sweet girl friend,
and so gave up further advances towards the one at home, though I always
had a very tender feeling for her.
In the winter there was skating, which I loved, and dancing, which was
new for me—that is, the round dances which were just beginning to be
popular.
There was a dancing school in the village that winter and all of my
mates attended. The lady with whom I was boarding wanted me to go, as
her son, about my age, was going. For some unknown reason, however, my
mother would not consent to my attending, so that ended the matter, much
to my sorrow.
Nevertheless, with very little help from the girls during the recess
hours at school, I was able to dance as well as any of them, and I could
lead much better. It came more natural for me to take that part, so a
new joy was added to my life. The combination of the music, such as it
was, and the rhythm of the dance went right to my heart and oh! how I
always loved to dance.
Even now, although my feet have long since ceased to function on the
dance floor, I never hear a lovely waltz that I do not live over again
many of the thrills I experienced so long ago, when I was with the right
partner. I was simply on air when dancing.
The obdurate girl relaxed somewhat when we danced together, as she
considered me the best partner among the girls. Yet the lovemaking was
never pressed beyond holding her rather closely and squeezing her hand.
I was now getting a real joy out of life. The contact with the boy
cousins and my brother, being broken by my staying in the village, was
never resumed and I could now easily evade the awful Mr. W. on my short
weekly visits home.
My next summer was spent with my sister at the shore, much to my
delight. My “summer girl” was as near and dear to me as ever, and
equally glad to have me back again. And a new thrill was to be added to
my life this summer. I had never been to a real society ball. The dances
in our little village were never honored by the word “ball.” There was
approaching the great Charity Ball at the shore, the leading social
event of the summer. When my going was discussed, I was put through a
test as to my ability to dance. It was found that I was not quite up to
the latest society waltz and polka, so my brother-in-law, who was a
perfect dancer, took me in hand and in a short time I was pronounced
“foot perfect.” My sister had a lovely little gown made for me and, with
costume complete and feet “rarin’ to go,” what could have been more
perfect! The only fly in the ointment was that I could not dance with my
sweet girl! That real music and the wonderful dancers I had for partners
I shall never forget.
It was the first real party for my girl also, consequently we had enough
to fill our time and minds. So we were happy and content with the little
chats and comparisons of mental notes of our several partners, with
occasional sly words of love which we felt for each other. I know I
danced well. I never sat through a dance, and had to refuse many, as my
card was over-full all the time. I was full of life and enthusiasm, good
color, probably was considered not unattractive looking, although I had
too many brothers and sisters to think much of my own looks at that
time, as one rarely gets compliments from one’s kin. The “sweet
nothings” poured into my ears during the dances were in reality “sweet
nothings” to me, and did not appeal to me at all.
A man, as a male, had no attraction for me, even in dancing. The only
impression he left with me and the only thrill I got was from the way he
danced. If our steps matched, I seemed to be in a rhythmic heaven, and
when it was over, all the squeezings and cooings passed away in the
mist.
My brother-in-law was by far the best dancer on the floor. I not only
felt this but it was the general verdict as well. He danced often with
me, as my sister was not very fond of dancing and was glad to have him
with me. He seemed to think I had been a very apt pupil and was proud of
his success, and said the usual silly things, which I laughed off,
though there will be a revelation on this score further along in my
story.
CHAPTER VII
The following year my father was obliged to be away from home teaching
music, so my mother took part of a large house in the village for
herself, my youngest brother and me, all that were left at home at that
time. In the other part of the house lived an old lady and gentleman,
brother and sister, who were greatly respected in the town, where they
had always lived. I was always taught to be kind to everyone and I think
it has always been my pleasure to be so.
My mother was greatly beloved by everyone, rich or poor, old or young,
and she was always ready to go in time of need. It seemed that many
people thought they needed her very often.
I would meet these old people in our house on the common stairs, and of
course I would smile and chat a little, as I would when I was sent to
their rooms on some errand. They asked me to come in some evening to
play cards with the old gentleman, who would teach me a new game of
“piquet,” which interested me, as I loved to play any card game. My
mother encouraged my going in when my lessons were prepared, as it would
“cheer up” these elderly ones. I was quite willing, and loved to play
that game, as not many young people then knew how.
After a while, I began to be conscious that I was hitting the old
gentleman’s foot very often, and would always draw mine back with
apologies, at first thinking it was my fault.
One day later I happened to be in the house alone and, as I was coming
down the stairs, I met him and before I knew what was happening he had
his hand under my dress, and in trying to jump back I sat down, tripping
on the stair. He reached over to me as if preparing to take further
liberties, when I brought my foot back and gave him a mighty shove which
sent him sprawling. I then got up and read him the riot act in no mild
manner. I thoroughly frightened him, as I knew my mother was away and
could not hear me. He promised that if I would not tell my mother he
would never do such a thing again. Tell my mother! Little did he know
that it was the one thing I would never dare to do, as I would have
expected a punishment myself as unjust as the one I never forgot, and
which had such serious effects.
My visits to their rooms were less frequent, as I would always try to
invent some excuse for not going. My mother would insist, however, upon
my going once in a while, saying I was very selfish not to try to bring
some sunshine into the lives of these old people. If she had known why I
did not want to go in there she would have brought something besides
sunshine into the life of that old beast. This goes to show that in my
life so far I found that sex desire was present in the almost senile man
as well as in the very young.
As we lived in the village, I was now really a part of the social life
of the young people. When I speak of my scholarship or my popularity or
my skill in all of the outdoor sports, I do not wish to give the
impression of boasting. Rather am I anxious to call attention to the two
distinct personalities in my nature. All my life I have been trying to
decide which was my real self. At this writing, and viewing life from
its terminus, as it were, I find that I am of the conviction that both
phases were very real and both perfectly normal.
Again, I do not aim to give the impression that I was always “playing a
part.” My mother instinct has always been highly developed and when I
was in an atmosphere of femininity, if it were not too “catty,” I was as
sincere as any other woman. On the other hand, when associated with men,
my masculinity was perfectly natural.
In whatever enterprise or business I have been engaged in my life, I
have worked with sincerity and have discharged my duties with success. I
shall speak later of my role as a wife, for in this I failed. Of course,
in this connection, I am speaking of my mature life. As a child, when I
was put to such tests, naturally I was “not what I seemed,” but what
good children are when they have been made to “be good” by the methods
commonly employed by parents?
Whether my great success in private theatricals during my school and
college days was due to a natural talent, or whether my early duplicity
had its influence, I could never decide, yet each character I played was
very real to me and I believe I made it so to the audience. I will say
that I was always more at home in the male role. I have been told that I
have always had what is known as personality. People have always thought
me cleverer than I was. I have enjoyed being rather different in my
appearance or dress. I cared not a bit for “fashion,” I wanted to be
very comfortable and then forget all about myself.
It has made me feel small indeed to be asked if I were a professional, a
scientific woman, or an artist, for alas! I have never “majored” in
anything but just life.
If I had understood my nature early in life, as I should have done, I
feel I might have excelled in almost anything that appealed to me. I
should have been an artist. That was the form of expression which
appealed to me, besides being a hereditary gift. But I lacked patience
and application to be well grounded in the necessary technique upon
which to build. I painted naturally and obtained effects of real merit.
I had my box of paints ever at hand, and when the inspiration moved me,
I would use them with all my heart.
I remember one summer, when I was home from college, it was thought that
a broad panel under the mantle and over the fireplace in the dining room
needed painting, as the smoke from the fireplace had discolored it. I
said I would do it. I went out to the fields, gathered a lot of flowers
of all the kinds then in bloom, and brought them in. I got my paints and
soon had on my palette every color which showed in my bunch of flowers.
I just threw them on the panel just as they were, each flower about as
it grew and with all the characteristics of natural growth, arranged so
that there were no clashings of color; quite a harmony, in fact. I did
not spend over two hours in doing this, and when my father came in to
have his smoke in his chair right beside that fireplace, he was simply
delighted and gave me a big kiss and hug and said that that panel would
never be left there if he ever had to go away. Poor father! He was taken
away first. Then the home was broken up and what became of the bunch of
wild flowers I never knew.
As I said, in my youth I had not found myself, and in later years I
thought I had no time, as I had to support myself and was too busy, an
alibi common to those who have not the will to accomplish things in
spite of obstacles.
But I must return to the time when I was in high school. From now on, I
had good pals among the boys but, much to my delight, there were no sex
problems to contend with. I did not have to buy my favors. I danced
well, skated with the best of them, and was jolly, so the story was
told.
Now came the time when the boys and girls began to pair off as
sweethearts. Then came some worries on my part. I like all the boys as
boys and pals but I never could get up over any one boy a thrill such as
the girls described.
I still had my sweet girl at the seashore and, when thinking of love,
she satisfied me. We wrote frequent letters and that was all I wanted,
just to know that she loved me, as I did her. But what was lacking in my
make-up was that I could not fall in love with a boy, as the other girls
did.
When “seeing me home,” many would approach me in an ardent mood and want
to kiss me good night, but I would fly away and would not tolerate
anything of the sort.
There was one boy in school whom I admired very much. He was in a higher
class than I, and when he went to the blackboard and drew a wonderful
diagram with well-made letters at each and every point and angle, taking
then the pointer and saying the magic word “theorem,” I would be rapt in
my attention. I listened to every word he rattled off, not understanding
a thing about which he was talking, but realizing that he did. Those
“ifs” and “buts” and “hences” thrilled me. I simply thought him a
paragon—which might have been a geometrical figure, for all I knew then.
As I said, I was getting more and more worried about not falling in
love, and the girls were beginning to think me queer, as I had no
confidences to exchange for theirs. One day I wanted a knife, so
motioned to the “paragon” whose seat was near mine, asking for his
knife. When he handed it to me I saw a tiny scrap of paper tucked under
the blade. I opened the paper and found the words “Amo te” written there
in his very best style. (By the way, he was by far the best penman in
school, and I believe his writing had more effect than the message he
wished to convey.)
Here enters the “female.” When I returned the knife I wrote a note and
asked him what those words meant. I had not begun to study Latin, as he
had, so that was the beginning of my first trial. Of course he found an
occasion in the near future to explain the meaning of those words, and I
accepted him as my sweetheart and tried to feel “in love.” I knew what I
felt for my “sweet girl.”
Everyone in school seemed to be much more enthusiastic about the “match”
than I. He was considered the best “catch” in school, but I was the only
one he ever approached. Perhaps it was because I was about the only one
who had not tried to catch him. He and I often “tied scores” together at
the head of the school in scholarship and deportment. So it went. The
courtship was very free from the proverbial thrills on my part, and
never did I find him unduly tender in his caresses. We went and came
together and kissed “Howdy” and “Goodbye,” so I did not find it so bad.
When I returned from the wonderful summer with my sister, when I was
really “in society” for a few months, I was on the top of the wave in
popularity. In the small country town there was the “Main Street” home
crowd, and also the boys who come to the dances from the larger towns
nearby. These outside boys were usually much in demand by the girls.
That winter, when these visiting boys found that I knew the latest
dances, I had more than my share of attention. Unfortunately, my “beau”
did not dance because of a lameness he had. He always took me to the
dances, however, and I “sat out” with him now and then. It was hard
work, as the other boys would come and beg me for a dance and he would
urge me to go, but I had accepted him as my future husband (aged
fourteen!) and, although it had not been announced, I was firm in my
resolution to be faithful and devoted.
CHAPTER VIII
Right in the midst of this solemn love affair of mine, when I felt that
I was doing the one and only thing a girl should do: have a beau, there
came to me the first urge of sex desire.
One of the older boys of the town who had been away for some time, and
whom I scarcely knew, though I had heard the girls rave about him, came
home for a visit. It was said that at some time or other every girl and
woman in town had been in love with him. He was handsome, sang divinely,
danced, skated, and did all these things perfectly. His eyes were very
enticing. He was taking singing lessons from my father, and I used to
love listening to the music, while those lessons were going on.
I was one of the younger girls, and had received no attention from him,
other than an occasional dance or as a skating partner, when he would
compliment me in my skill in both of these sports. He was at this time,
by the way, devoted to the girl who had so attracted me in school.
One evening, we were at a party of some kind, and I found myself
watching him a great deal and I often caught his naughty eyes, which
seemed to say things that I hardly understood. My regular beau was not
there that evening and when the time for departure came, much to my
surprise and to that of everyone, my new admirer asked to “see me home.”
I was really glad, and I think in some way he must have gained the
impression that I was drawn to him that evening.
When he suggested a longer walk as the shorter way home I was thrilled,
and found I had fallen completely under his charm or whatever it was,
for I made no remonstrances to any of his advances and found that I not
only felt a great thrill but wanted all and even more than he gave me.
There came that psychological moment which comes into every girl’s life,
when nothing under the heavens could deter her impulse for sexual relief
unless she had been taught that it would come to her and how to protect
herself from giving way to it. I was not satisfied, few women ever are.
I was left high and dry in a state of mad desire and casually taken home
to face the music. I was much later than was expected and mother had
sent father out to look for me. Some one had seen us going down a
certain lane which was quite a rendezvous for lovers, I later
understood. My father met us as we were returning and the young man was
promptly dismissed and I was conducted home by father!
I realized later, as I failed to do then, that because of my excited
condition, which must have been apparent and the reputation of the young
man, my parents must have known what had been going on. Being too old
for spanking, I was sent to bed, with instruction that I was never again
even to speak to, let alone dance or skate with, that young man again.
The music lessons also ceased, and I longed to tell my parents that the
affair was all my fault (as in most cases I argue that it is the fault
of the girl when she is “led astray”). But again I did not dare, as I
knew there was no understanding between us and, if I were to tell them
that it was the only time in my life that I had ever felt that impulse,
I knew they would not believe me. And I would not have them believe it
was my nature to do such things.
This ended my friendship for that young man, who treated me with great
scorn thereafter. Fortunately for me, there was never a return of that
madness for him or for anyone else—except once in my life, long—long
afterwards. Of this I will speak later.
I have had great respect for that young man, as I realize now that he
must have been very careful not to run the risk of my becoming pregnant
at that time, for I was in just the mood for conception to occur. He
was, however, wise in such matters. It is strange that there were so few
girls who got into “trouble” then, as so many do now. It would have
become known then, as I am now sure, for there did occur such cases at
rare intervals, and I know that intercourse was as common then as now.
There comes to my mind here an occurrence in the small town adjoining
the one where I am writing this book. In the high school there was a
girl, belonging to one of the very best families, who was to graduate in
a few months. She had a suitor of whom her father did not approve. A
short time ago she was found to be in a family way, at the three months’
period. Her father was distracted and at once went to the young business
man who was responsible, and had him arrested and tried before all the
people who knew both the man and the girl. All of the details of their
long association were laid bare. One can imagine what effect this had on
that poor girl.
The father demanded that they should be married at once—an end they had
both long desired, but which had been defeated by the objections of the
now irate parent. Too late the father realized his sad mistake. His only
daughter had no reputation left among the people of that town and the
young married people had to go to some far-away place to begin their
lives over again, with the stigma placed upon them by the “doting”
father. That man has not much respect left for himself. There was such a
feeling of disgust for the way he handled the case that there was
whispering regarding tar and feathers for the father. At this writing
the feeling has not died down, but the small town does not dare take
drastic measures to give the right man his due.
Now back to my own muttons. The following winter I fell desperately in
love with one of my teachers, a woman. This great wave came over me one
day when I was standing at her desk. She had one arm around me and, as
she was pointing out some problem on the paper on her desk, I noticed
the many little veins which showed over the knuckles of her fingers, and
I could see the pulse beating there. I did not then understand that she
probably felt drawn to me sexually, and that the impulse was coming to
me through so strange a medium as the veins of her fingers. I was
fascinated by her. I was frequently called to her recitation room, and
when the lesson which had been the reason for my being called was
disposed of, she would pet me and hold me very tightly. I was thrilled
and lingered long in her embrace and enjoyed her kisses hugely.
The sister of my brother-in-law, of whom I have spoken as playing the
piano so wonderfully, affected me the same way and she was drawn to me
also. She would have me sleep with her and would kiss me and hold me in
her arms all night. I was always happy there.
I know now that this poor woman, a marvelous musical genius, who later
had to be taken to a sanitarium for mental disorders, was the victim of
sexual starvation. She was never married, nor did she have affairs with
men, as she was not physically attractive. But one knew from her music
the intensity of her nature and, with no physical outlet for these
emotions, her life was wrecked. My emotions never reached the sexual
organs or the organs of generation, which I always looked upon in the
greatest contempt, believing that they were only put there to annoy
girls and interfere periodically with their pleasures. One day I found a
medical book hidden away in my mother’s closet, and from it I learned
all about the methods of producing babies, so that matter was at last
somewhat cleared up in my mind. Both the male and female organs were
pictured and I was disgusted with it all. I thought it was a very nasty
book to be found in my mother’s possession, and wondered why I should
have been so vigilantly spanked when any reference was made to these
organs and such knowledge was questioned, when she harbored that book in
her closet. She must have been ashamed of it, too, to be so secret about
it.
What a fine equipment for a healthy young girl to have during the
adolescence period!
During the coming winter, my sister in the city was very ill. Her little
boy baby was very fond of me and she felt that it would be a great
comfort to have me come to be with him, as he was not very happy with
his nurse and missed his mother, who was too ill to have him with her.
So I was taken out of school and sent to Boston, where I had never
visited them in their city home.
My sister’s husband has always been most kind to all of our family. He
had plenty of money and had often helped our family over rough places.
He and my sister did much for me when I visited them during the summers
of which I have spoken. I was very fond of him, naturally, as I had been
a pet of his since I was a little girl.
I felt him a bit too ardent perhaps when we were dancing, but, as I
found all men the same, and believing it to be the thrill of the dance,
I passed it off lightly. Physically, I was never attracted by him. In
dancing with my “sweet girl” I would become greatly aroused and could
hardly restrain my impulse to kiss her. That was to me the acme of
bliss, when those sensations occurred.
This visit to my sister was very different from the ones I had made in
the summer, in point of gaieties. She was very ill and had trained
nurses in attendance. I was with the little son during his waking hours,
going with him and his nurse into the park for his outings and playing
with him, as I loved to do, and he was very happy with me.
My room was on the parlor floor while the rest of the family were on the
floor above and the servants still above that. One night as my
brother-in-law was out for the evening I went to bed rather early. I was
awakened by his coming into the room and up to my bed. He told me not to
speak, as my sister had just gone to sleep. He sat down by the bed and
talked, or rather whispered, about being so lonely and worried, and of
course I was very sympathetic and tried to cheer him up. Soon I felt his
head on the bed as though he was crying and before I knew it he had
pulled down the bedclothes and was kissing my knees. I begged him to
stop and tried to cover myself up. He again warned me not to make a
noise as it would kill my sister if she knew he were there. I was old
enough to know that there would be that result if, at the critical time
in her illness, she were to know of his being with me, so I kept still
while his kisses became more intense.
The sensation was so intense, I must have lost my head entirely as I
made no remonstrance to his further advances. When he left me, I was
filled with horror and disgusted beyond compare. How I loathed him for
what I felt was taking such an unfair advantage of me, and for the utter
lack of fidelity to his poor sick wife. When I had a chance to talk with
him the next day, I was violent in my condemnation of his treatment and
vowed, if he ever attempted such a thing again, I would go straight home
and tell my mother about it.
Then came the old arguments which to me, alas! were all too familiar! He
pictured the disgrace which would come to both families, of the probable
killing of my sister coming at this critical time. If not that, and if
she believed me, which was doubtful, he would say it was all a lie on my
part, and oh! it all seemed such a tangle! How I wished I were dead! Had
I dared, I would have ended it all, but I loved life and the thought of
ending it brought terror to my soul. So I gave in and promised not to
make a fuss.
I finished my last year in the high school that year. My boy lover had
graduated and “gone west young man” the summer before. Before he went,
we thought it would be wiser to tell our parents of our wish to be
really engaged. I was very much in earnest when I told my mother of our
love for each other. She was, much to my surprise, very calm and
seemingly sympathetic and took the whole thing seriously. For once, I
was not punished—as I feared I might be—for I had come to the point when
I had given up all hopes of ever being understood by one who it seemed
to me should always see my point of view.
She said that perhaps it would be better to wait for at least a year, as
I was only fifteen, and then, if we still felt the same way about it, we
could talk it over. We were to write every two weeks, and my mother
advised that the letters should be such that all of our schoolmates
could read, as they would naturally be interested in the welfare of the
youth. This seemed reasonable. I will say that they were little personal
letters, always written in red ink, which thrilled me as symbolic of
“heart’s blood.” So that was that. The letters kept up for two years and
I had the satisfaction of feeling that I was a real girl because I had a
lover! I never was in love with him as I was with my “sweet girl.”
The great question before the house now was my future education. It
seemed to be an established fact that, as I had always stood high in my
classes, I might have a brain worthy of further development. My father
was not able to send me to college, so both of my brothers-in-law
offered to give me a college course. I was to decide where it would be.
The one living in Boston argued for the institutions in Massachusetts,
as a Bostonian would, but I felt the tuition fee which I might have to
pay in my proximity to that faction would be too great. So much to the
horror of all my Boston connections, I chose the midwestern university
where my other brother-in-law was a professor. The sister whose husband
was located in the West was much older than I, and I had always
worshipped her. Her husband was old enough to be my father, and I had
known him almost as long.
They were married when I was very young, and I had always been a great
pet of both of them. In fact, Peter (we will call this brother-in-law)
had always called me “Babe.”
I am the last one of all that large family left, and it is with the
conviction that no one will be hurt by these revelations that I am
making public record of these experiences.
As my older sister had no children, I made that point in my decision to
go west. Again, I had no love for girls as a class, and a women’s
college did not appeal to me. Of course I did not dare give my real
reason for my decision.
It was decreed that I should have one more “gay” summer with my sister
at the seashore, before getting down to the four year’s grind in the
“wild and wooly” west. I tried to think up all sorts of excuses for not
going but, as my sister there wanted to see about my outfit, I had to
go. I was on my guard, however, and did not allow any advances on the
part of that brother-in-law.
It was a wonderful summer, very gay, as usual. I was quite a young lady
by this time, and had much attention.
The Governor of Massachusetts, whose country estate enjoined that of my
sister, had recently lost his wife. His family were great friends of my
sister’s, and he was at their home a great deal. This summer, the Boston
cadets were in camp not far from these two homes, which made it still
gayer for the young ladies. There was to be a Governor’s night at the
camp, and the question came up as to who should accompany the Governor
to the festivities on that occasion. He jokingly, as I thought, said,
“Well, young lady, I think you will have to go with me.”
One can imagine my surprise and delight to be chosen for that much
coveted role. Yet there was even then a fly in the ointment, as one of
the cadets who lived in the town had pleaded for my company, as soon as
the official duties were over at the review.
However, I went with the Governor, and was shown all the courtesies of
the situation and was, of course, proud indeed.
When all was over in the way of formality, I was seized on by the young
cadet, and we had a quiet stroll. Meantime, the Governor’s party was
about to leave, and I was nowhere to be found—much to the consternation
and dismay of my sister. They went home without me, as someone had told
them with whom I was. Soon, the young cadet took me home, and my sister
met him with a very sharp tongue. I had mine later. The Governor took it
as a joke and seemed to understand it thoroughly.
CHAPTER IX
In September began another chapter of my inner history. I had never
before been all night on a train, and of course the trip west was of
great interest to me. Examinations were the first things to think about.
Accredited high schools were not then in vogue, and I had to run the
gamut, which I did without any trouble, and came out with flying
colors—much to the joy of my sister and brother-in-law.
My sister was loved by everyone—young and old—as was Peter, and their
home was one of the popular social centers, both in the university life
and in that of the two adjoining cities. With this setting, added
perhaps to certain qualities which may have exerted an attraction, I at
once became popular and was whirled into college life with a bang. Beaux
galore, but I was still faithful to my young lover who “went west.” I
told a few of my girl friends, who were thrilled to know that I was
engaged.
Tennis, horseback riding (side saddle), dancing, “buggy riding,” and so
forth filled all of my free time, and life was one glorious adventure
after another, and I was “on top of the wave.” Studies did not weigh
heavily on my mind, as I learned quickly and took them none too
seriously.
I spoke of riding horseback on one of those awful side saddles, which
brings back to my mind something which should have come earlier into
these recordings. Back on the farm, we used to ride bare-back like wild
Indians, and I was one of the most fearless. I owned my dear horse who
would never let another pass him. One day I had a long gallop,
bare-back, and suddenly experienced a tremendous thrill which went
through my whole being. I could not understand how it came or why.
Several times I felt the same sensation when the ride was very long. I
remember that it was always felt that I had been riding too long, as I
was tired and quiet after such rides. I now know that I had been aroused
to the point of orgasm. In later years, when in my dreams I was riding
horseback, I would experience the same thrill.
Let us now return to college where I was to benefit by “higher
education.” Being in the family of one of the faculty, I was naturally
thrown more with other young people similarly connected. The president’s
daughter was a sophomore at the time I entered, but kindly took me under
her wing, so to speak. She was a beautiful girl, clever in her studies
but awkward in her dancing, so she was not popular with the boys. (This
university was co-educational.) She had a tempting mouth, and I was very
much drawn to her. No boy had ever made love to her, and she seemed
quite happy in my demonstrations of affection. Her lips always reminded
me of rose petals.
I was still very fond of my “sweet girl,” with whom I still
corresponded, as I did with my masculine lover in the West. I can see
now that I was ever groping for the love that satisfied. Perhaps I was
wholly fickle. I am not trying to establish any particular character,
simply endeavoring to portray the difficult problems which children and
young people have to meet, and how terribly handicapped they are from
lack of enlightenment early in life.
I am dealing with all of these sexual sensations, as they came to me in
as correct a sequence as I can recall.
These “rose kisses” were often asked for and often given, but at times
withheld, which of course made them doubly desirable. We would write
many ardent notes, as we were not free to be together as much as we
would have liked, being in different classes and faithful to our
studies.
This girl had a brother who was a devotee of my sister’s. He was the
first suitor I had. Anything verging on an alliance was promptly vetoed
by our families, as it would interfere with our futures! I was never
very serious with the boys, and I was probably considered a flirt. They
were useful, and then there was a certain fascination in the feeling
that I attracted them, and was considered popular, so I dangled them all
about and each one filled some place in my program for pleasure, but
this was not of a sexual character. When they became too ardent, I was
through with them.
My brother-in-law, Peter, had, in addition to his teaching, charge of
the great library. All the new books had to be catalogued, leaves cut,
and so forth, before they were ready for the shelves. I was always glad
to assist him with this work and so relieve my sister, as she often
helped to fix up the books, as did many other students who had free time
and the inclination to be of service.
This work was done in a private room which was always kept locked when
the work was going on, as well as at other times. Going to this room
with Peter, and being locked in there with him, never attracted any
attention, for this was the custom when anyone was helping him.
One day while we were working he grabbed my hands and told me how he had
grown to love me, not as a father (“Papee” as I had always called him).
I treated this as a joke and answered him in that way.
It was a standing joke in the university, among all of our intimate
friends, that sooner or later every girl or woman connected with the
college fell in love with Peter. I believe this was true, and his final
downfall may be attributed to this faculty of “charming” so many. I
reminded him of this saying among our friends, said he could count me
out of this category, and tried to make him go on with the work. I was
going to leave the room, but it was locked, and he had the key. I found
he was determined to make love to me, as he called it, and I was equally
determined that he should not. We tussled, but he was a giant in
strength. He warned me not to make a disturbance, and then came the
awful arguments which unfortunately were too familiar to me!
My sister adored him, as I did her. Could I break her heart and make the
man give up his work? Wheels within wheels! He protested that he loved
my sister better than his life but that he was sexually starved, as she
did not care for the usual intercourse. I’ve often wondered whether her
nature might have been like mine. I realize that she had very close girl
and women friends all her life.
However, I yielded, again, as I thought, to keep peace in the family and
to save all from battle and sudden death! How I wished that I could
experience some pleasure in that awful contact which I seemed fated to
endure. The first of my first year in college! How I hated myself by
this time. I felt that I was nothing but a low animal, and might well
have been a prostitute. I just didn’t care much what happened.
No animal spirits went into this phase. I evaded the opportunities as
often as I could, but when it was inevitable, I simply became an
unwilling piece of furniture. I was, however, able to forget that role,
and entered with enthusiasm into my studies and the gaieties connected
with college life. I always took, or was being given, active parts in
organization work, and was looked upon as a model student. No one ever
knew the tuition I was called upon to pay.
As I had such a horror of the sexual life I was forced to lead, I was
comforted by the knowledge that it was not my real self, and my real
self did enjoy the normal happy life which was before me. I did enjoy it
in spite of the black pages.
The side of my nature which called for a female mate worried me, as I
thought that I was the only girl with such a nature. But that side was
very real too.
The rose leaf lipped girl passed out of my life. That attachment was
catalogued as purely sentimental. The break came as a result of her
family being disinclined to have the younger son, who was very
persistent in his devotions, become entangled in any matrimonial
venture. The president and I clashed when I flatly refused the
attentions of an older son who was teaching in the University. In fact,
the old man himself has been over-ardent at times, and had to be placed
where he belonged.
Years and years afterwards, I met this mighty president at the
Pan-American exposition, as he was sneaking out of a dance hall where a
Nautch dance was advertised. He was greatly embarrassed and greeted me
too affably. I had the opportunity of glancing at the sign over his head
and, with rather a sneering glance, I let his extended hand fall limply
to his side without contact with mine.
My next girl friend was very musical. She sang and played very well, and
this attracted me. Her mother had passed on and my sister was a sort of
mother to her, so that she was much at our house. Peter did not seem to
favor this friendship, which was explained later when I found he had
been making love to her himself, and that she was much in love with him.
This discovery was not made until long after she and I had been parted.
In my second year I became interested in a boy in my class who came from
a fine family and was accepted by my sister as a desirable companion,
although Peter never approved of anyone who began to show me marked
attention.
This fellow was good looking, a wonderful dancer, and _did_ give the
“sweetest kisses,” as the girl of whom I have just spoken told me. She
evidently had tried many. In my junior year I did become engaged to him.
I was not in love and never felt drawn to him other than for the reasons
which I have described. I was becoming more and more worried because I
was not like other girls, so I felt that I had better get married as
soon as my school days were over, and become normal, as it was supposed
that a girl who had sweethearts and wanted to be married was wholly
normal.
My interest in girls persisted, however, and I could not get up much
enthusiasm over the marriage idea.
To go back a bit. There was a girl in my class who seemed to be trying
to win my favor. I did not care for this at all, as I preferred to be
the one to woo when I became attracted to a girl. One time I accepted
her invitation to stay all night with her. We were going to a ball, and
it seemed a natural and a convenient thing to do.
When we went to bed, she was in a very affectionate state of mind and
wanted me to kiss her. I did not want to, as I was not attracted to her
in the least. She said that dancing always made her crazy for
demonstrations of some sort.
In my sessions of lovemaking with the girl whose company had been
forbidden to me, I realize now that she at times experienced the
climactic relief for her sexual desire, but even then the sensations
which I have described as being at the tip of my breast bone was what I
felt must have been the same as her feelings, only that I was better
able to control my expressions of bliss.
My summers at home were full of gaiety and I was able to keep
brother-in-law at his distance. He was now dancing about with various
and sundry females, quite openly, and much to the sorrow of my sister,
who finally had to divorce him, though happily not through my offices. I
had made up my mind, however, that if it were necessary, I would go on
the stand to testify as to his infidelity. This, of course was years
after the time of which I am writing.
CHAPTER X
The second year in college brought into my life probably the most
astonishing experience that ever a girl went through. My earlier
experiences I know that all girls—or rather many—have had, their denials
notwithstanding.
With the opening of the fall term and my junior year, came a new
professor and his wife from an eastern city. As our family was the only
one from that part of the world, we were among the first to become
acquainted, and soon became fast friends.
These people had no children, and they seemed to like me, so I was at
their house a great deal when through with my studies, staying often for
dinner and the evening, when my sister and Peter would come for me and
for a visit. I felt a great attraction for the wife, whom we will call
Flo, as she is to figure largely in my life from this point onward. I
had not yet become entangled with the youth who danced and kissed so
well, and I found that my affections were turning Flo-ward very rapidly.
Being of a naturally affectionate and demonstrative disposition, a trait
coming to me directly from my father (whom I have always been said to
resemble in many characteristics), I began very timidly to show my
increasing love for Mrs. Flo. She seemed to return my fondness, and I
proceeded to make love in the accepted way of sending flowers, and doing
little things to please her. I was in fact, quite devoted.
Peter was also making a definite impression on Flo. Both the Professor
and Flo loved my sister, as did everyone. We were all together at one
home or the other nearly every night for dinner, cards, or just to chat
or go to some function connected with the college or to the theater.
Soon I was expected as a regular dinner guest every Thursday night, and
to spend the night. Then began the little visits to my room by Flo after
I was in bed, when some very tender moments of love were experienced.
Little kisses and big kisses and finally she would leave me to go to her
own bed and husband, whom I am sure she adored, as he did her. I would
be left with a longing for her that I could hardly bear.
Now do not raise your eyebrows, O, pious one, and close this book with
the worn-out phrase, “I never heard of such things.” It was but
yesterday that I took a popular best-seller from the private library
here in this little town and, before taking it, I glanced at the list of
the readers who had the book before me, and there were the names of all
your daughters. Boys don’t bother to read about what they get at first
hand. In the novel, I read of all the things of which I am writing, but
of course couched in terms so glossed over that the prudish censor
prefers to read it rather than cast it aside.
I am telling the plain truth of things which so many know about, from
babyhood almost to the grave, but dare not admit that such things exist.
Despise me if you will, but let the sacrifice I am making have its
desired affect, to make you think and acknowledge the sins of your past,
and try to help the unborn babe and the many children who today are
bearing children without the benefit of clergy.
During the next summer, my sister and Peter stayed in the West, but I
went home as usual. Flo and the Professor visited me there. I had not
seen her for so long, one may realize the joy at our meeting. My mother
seemed to notice my unusual excitement, especially when we would return
from a long walk or drive. I could see that she was watching things very
carefully and was getting rather worried. Soon mother had a talk with
me, and said she felt that I was too interested in the Professor and
thought that the visit should come to an end. I protested that I was not
in love with him. I acknowledged that it was Flo of whom I was fond, but
mother said she knew better, and it must stop. The only way she could
accomplish this was for mother to go to bed, and pretend to be so ill
that she would have to ask them to bring their visit to a close.
I told Flo what the reason was, but we thought it best for them to go.
After a while Flo wrote to mother, assuring her that the attachment was
between us and that the Professor was not in my mind in the least, and
that she hoped that my mother would believe all was well. Whatever
mother thought I never knew, for she was a woman of few words. The
matter was then dropped.
That summer, the young lover appeared at my home for a visit and to go
through the family inspection as a candidate for my heart and hand. He
was approved and the engagement was announced, with the usual
festivities. He was obliged to return west before I did, so I soon
followed alone. I felt that I was quite “in love” and had the proper
feelings for this swain, yet deep in my heart it was the feeling that I
was to be again with Flo that made me happy to go back. I was rather
lonely on that, my first long trip alone, and imagine my surprise and
sincere delight to have my lover walk into the train the last evening of
the trip. He had traveled a day and a night to meet me at a point where
there was a long wait. He brought me flowers and candy, and did and said
all the dear things that a well-trained lover should do. He was really
fond of me. I felt that I was doing the thing that was expected of me,
and so I was quite content.
How he begged me to get off at a large city we were approaching, and be
married then and there and have it all over! I was sorely tempted to do
so, but when I thought of the disappointment of my family, who had
looked for such great results from my course in college, I simply could
not do it.
Afterwards I wished that I had done as he desired. We sat together in
our intimate conversation long after everyone else had retired and
finally we decided to do likewise. We noted that there was no one in the
berth above mine, much to my joy. In a very short time, what did that
youth do but come to my berth, part the curtains and tell me not to
speak. He then got in and held me tightly in his arms and pleaded with
me to consummate our marriage. He said that we were really married in
the sight of God, and what mattered anything else.
Well, why not? There was the “trial marriage” plan, even away back so
many years. So that was to be marriage! After that night all the
illusions had vanished. I had believed that a real marriage would bring
about different results, and at least different sensations, but alas! I
knew then that I could never bring myself to the point of really
marrying him.
Of course he went to his own berth before morning. We both got up rather
early and had breakfast, and were sitting and talking very properly,
when who should walk in but Peter! Rather crestfallen, I thought, to
find the youth there before him.
That was a funny day’s journey. The two of them sitting there, hating
each other, and I hating them both. My lover had thought that I would
that day finally accede to his wishes, and get off the train somewhere,
and have the ceremony performed. Peter probably thought he would be able
to have a little seance of his own, but instead both simply glared all
day.
My thoughts were all with Flo and the hours seemed to drag more and
more. But at last we arrived, and many friends were there to meet me.
I had to bide my time before breaking the engagement, as I did not seem
to have any good excuse. At last I found one, and that chapter was
ended, apparently much to the sorrow of the youth. I was sorry, for he
left the university, as I did not want to break up his career. But he
afterwards married and lived happily ever after.
When it was found that I was free, suitors were numerous. I would have
none of them, except as escorts to the many functions at which they were
necessary adjuncts. I was happy in my love for Flo, happy in that I made
her happy, because I knew for myself no greater happiness than that.
CHAPTER XI
I think it shows that my real interest was not in the matters sexual of
which I have written, in that I really had a glorious time during my
years in college. I did my studying conscientiously and had high marks.
I entered into all of the college activities with enthusiasm—excepting
one. I would never join any sorority. I received urgent invitations, but
for some reason I did not care to affiliate with a group of women. I
have adhered to that determination all through life. I was eligible to
many of the national organizations for women, but they did not appeal to
me. How glad I have often been when I have read of the absurd fights
going on in many of these societies. I have affiliated with men’s
organizations, when women were eligible, and have enjoyed working with
men in business. I have been treated as “man to man” and have met them
in that spirit.
Before the end of my last year, Flo went to her home in the East, as she
was expecting the arrival of a baby. They had lost a baby girl and were
so happy in the new expectation. I was left “in charge” of the
Professor.
I used to look about me and wonder. There we were, all in what would be
termed “the highest class of society,” respected and loved by all. Yet
think of the things which were going on! I believe that similar affairs
were in vogue among others of our set, but others were as secret as we,
and as everyone is, for that is one subject that is never discussed with
a third party. These things will go on until there is some drastic
re-arrangements of the sex regime.
People are now daring to talk about birth control, and important
provisions are being made for the execution of such methods. This is
most encouraging and is a great step, but to my mind it is not really
solving an important problem. It is rather like a medicine to allay pain
which does not get at the root of the evil and exterminate the cause of
that pain. There is no suffering comparable to unsatisfied sex desire,
nor any condition which brings about such dire results. Scientists will
some day come to the point of searching for a way to meet this disease
and will then have made for the human race a real advance, morally,
physically, and mentally.
Up to this time, I felt that I was the only girl who had the sex desire
for woman, rather than the accepted one for men. I thought perhaps the
awful experiences that I had endured at the hands of men were in a way
responsible for that impulse. I now believe that urge to be just as
normal for some as is the contrary for others. The pride of the male has
had much to do with keeping this phase of nature under the ban as
undesirable. The time is coming when man’s love for man and woman’s love
for woman will be studied and understood as it never has been in the
past. Books touching on this subject will not be censored. Women will be
too anxious to co-operate with their daughters in the understanding of
matters which have baffled them all their lives and led them into untold
complications, matrimonial and otherwise.
When I returned home after having made what was considered a very
satisfactory showing in college, the question came “What next?”
Art would have been my choice, and the opportunity opened if I were to
go to be with my sister in Boston and there get the best of instruction.
But I knew what that would mean. I simply shuddered at the thought of
again going through any of those experiences. At home I felt so free and
safe, as our home had been moved where all former relations were
severed. My parents urged me to stay with them for a year at least, so I
accepted a call to teach in a little New England school, near my home.
I may or may not have mentioned that I was born under the zodiacal sign
of Gemini, the twins, and had thereby, according to astrologers, a dual
nature. At this time the feminine side of my nature was asserting itself
strongly. I felt a very real desire for children. Being in this school
perhaps encouraged this feeling, or perhaps the phase through which I
was passing made my efforts there a great success. It became the “show
school” of the town.
I was now twenty years old, and of course knew that I must be married,
if I were to fulfill my desire for a family. Much as I hated the thought
of the processes which I would have to endure in order to attain my
goal, I did that year yield to the advances of a man twelve years my
senior. His family were lifelong friends of my parents and, as there
would be a possibility of my remaining near them, the match was looked
upon with favor. Not so, however, with my sisters, who had known of much
more advantageous alliances, both from a financial as well as from a
social point of view, which were available. I had had quite a taste of
high society and, in a way, it did not seem to appeal to me. However, as
I felt that I could never love any man, and as I had to marry one in
order to have the desired children, it might as well be one who would
perhaps prove a clean and good father.
With the close of my college career had ended the chapter of Flo and the
Professor. Their baby boy had arrived, and her attention was wholly
centered about him. As our lives fell far apart, the flame just
naturally flickered out, though we always remained friends. We came
together now and then, but there was no resumption of our former
relations, as our minds were otherwise occupied.
My marriage was the next event in the drama in which I was playing. I
went through the preparations and the ceremony with the conventional
enthusiasm. The honeymoon, as such, was a nightmare. I did my duty as a
virtuous young girl, and I am sure I convinced my husband of my
chastity. So began the unfortunate life of deceit, in order to cover up
the nightmare of my own life, which I felt to be utterly wrong and
worthy to be despised. The usual disgust accompanied each recurrence of
relations which I became more and more convinced had been invented
solely for men’s convenience and pleasure.
* * * * *
I soon found that friend husband was not anxious to assume the
responsibilities of fatherhood. Much to my horror, he took great care
lest any accidents should happen. Things went on in this way for some
time, when we had a serious talk on marriage. I did not exactly say,
“What do you suppose I married for?” but I did argue that the
consummation of the ideal marriage should be the coming of children. I
reminded him that unless children were forthcoming his pleasures and
mine (supposing it were a pleasure) could be bought and sold on the open
mart.
* * * * *
However, the unexpected and longed-for happened, and I became pregnant.
I believe that for the first time in my life, I felt secure and normal.
My husband began to worry about the coming expenses, as he really had no
need to, for he had a good salary and we lived at his father’s home.
However, this worried me.
There was a teaching vacancy in the next town, but under the supervision
of the school board in control of the little district school in which I
taught the year before. I was asked to fill this vacancy for a few
weeks, and accepted. My bad feelings came early in the morning, and I
was quite fit the rest of the day. I was glad to be earning the money,
as was my husband.
I was obliged to get up about six o’clock in the morning, in January,
before it was light, and be driven in an open sleigh about three miles
to the railroad station, suffering with intense nausea all the way. I
had had no breakfast. A trip of twenty minutes on the cars was about the
last straw, but I lived through that and, after quite a long walk to the
hotel, I was ready for a light breakfast. The walk to the school then
found me quite ready for the duties of the day. I had charge of the
primary department, and loved the work. I had a cold lunch at school,
and again the walk and the train and sleigh ride brought me home after
dark, with the thermometer often away down below zero. All this for
eleven dollars a week, which was considered good pay at that time.
I was happy in doing even so little to meet the coming expenses and so
relieve the worries of my spouse. It afforded a wonderful opportunity
for working off my surplus energy and such a good excuse for begging off
from sexual intercourse, which did less than interest me now that the
only reason for tolerance was no longer effective. I continued teaching
until the close of the year in June, and really felt that I had paid for
the coming event.
* * * * *
In the large family of my husband’s parents there was a young girl
cousin and her widowed mother. The girl was three years younger than I.
She was attractive and very musical. She often played to me and this
would seem to soothe me, yet it always stirred me deeply. We will call
this girl Gladys. She, as well as the whole family, was devoted to me.
In fact, I was quite spoiled by them all. Gladys was small and had
always been a pet of the whole family. She would always prefer to cuddle
in some one’s lap rather than sit in a chair. One day, after playing for
me, she came and snuggled down in my lap in a great “comfy” chair. She
was a very kissable youngster. Beautiful, reddish hair which curled in
the most fascinating little tight ringlets all about her face and neck.
Her skin, so soft and pink, was a great temptation. I felt the impulse
to caress her, and did. We were both thrilled, but all that this was for
me was the thrill I got from her throbbing pulse, in her ecstasy. Here
was an outlet in a way, at least, for that terrible suppressed emotion
which was so new to me, and which was never satisfied by relations with
my husband.
My marriage was to me another means to an end. I was at last, to all
appearances, normal, and I was going to have a baby. I had never had any
idea of responsibilities to the unborn. I simply visualized the babe in
my arms as mine, and this represented the fulfillment of my desire.
Gladys became madly in love with me, and the seeming obsession was
laughed at by all the family, who always treated it as a huge joke.
There had never come into the lives of these simple country people,
whose contact with life has been very limited, anything resembling such
an affection. They were quite incapable of comprehending many of life’s
great problems.
The large rambling house was on a lovely spot on a large farm, with the
Connecticut River flowing through it, and a little lake near the house.
In the summer, it was opened to boarders from the cities. My husband had
changed the location of his business, and it was thought best for me to
stay at home for the summer, he being away through the week, and coming
home for Sundays.
When I was no longer able to take an active part in the work of the
farm, which I never slighted as long as I was able, I went to my
mother’s home for a few months to await coming events. I was happy
mentally, but physically always hungry for that something which was
lacking, and of which I knew nothing from personal experience. I could
but imagine it from the emotions which I had observed in others. I must
be wrong some way, for I was not like the others. Yet why that
unendurable urge?
Gladys spent much time with me during those last months. She had little
use for the city visitors and she had her music to consider first, which
was much more important, to her mind. Then, she wanted to be with me. I
could hardly wait for the coming of that baby. I thought that all of the
physical symptoms which I was enduring would then vanish. At times I
would go nearly mad, when the strain of that longing for sexual relief
could not be relieved. How well I understood in after years why our
insane asylums were full of women who were there because of this very
reason: sexual passion ungratified.
One night when Gladys stayed with me, she had her desired relief and we
both made strenuous efforts to bring about the same result for me. But
to no avail. I was simply mad with desire, and writhed and threw myself
about in my agony. In the morning, labor pains began. The nurse and
doctor were brought in and I was in ecstasy in the belief that things
were really under way. I did every little thing which the nurse, the
doctor, and my mother advised, to help things along, never flinching at
the terrible pains which recurred every five minutes, with great
regularity.
I sang and joked and fairly shouted with joy as each agonizing period
came. My husband arrived about six o’clock, scared to death. I had to
keep him cheered up, as there seemed to have been very little progress
made during the day. Night came and went, with the same program. Pains
even more and more severe, but nothing happened. My strength kept up
wonderfully, so they said. I was very tired and did get a few winks of
sleep between pains which still came at five minute intervals. Sunday
night and still no baby. By Monday morning my vitality was about
exhausted, and another old country doctor was called in for
consultation, which was held with my poor mother sitting in—she who had
been through that ordeal nine times with no complications.
I afterwards learned that they wished to take the child in segments, but
as there was still life in the little body, my mother would not consent
to that. I was given chloroform and went blessedly to sleep, while the
child was taken with instruments.
I knew when I came out of the anesthetic that I had no baby. I feebly
asked that the body be brought to me. This wish was granted, and time
will never erase the bliss I felt while that little body was lying close
to mine during that short minute. They took it away with the promise
that I could have it again when I had rested—a promise they did not
fulfill.
Some will say, “It was all her own fault. She had been wickedly breaking
the laws of nature.” That may be. Others may know that the laws of
nature and the force of sexual desire, ignored by preceding generations
bound by the tradition of secrecy, were left to wreak their overwhelming
power on the unsuspecting and ignorant children of my day—as they are
still doing today.
With the memory of those precious moments still fresh within me, would
it be supposed that I would thus reveal all these innermost secrets of
my life, were it not with the thought that by so doing I might be able
to help some to an understanding of what our young people are facing in
the way of sexual problems today?
My life was in the balance for days, but the return to health came in
due time. The usual stereotyped condolences were poured in my ears and I
was told by the long-faced, pious females that “it was God’s will.” The
result was that I not only hated that kind of a God, but I felt for a
time that I hated everyone, while it was really myself that I hated.
When they said, as I have since heard many say under similar
circumstances, that “it was better than if the baby had lived,” I wanted
to scream. Usually, that statement would come from an old maid or from
the mother of many children, who was so occupied with the live children
in her arms and squealing all about her, that she gave little thought to
the little unborn one who was such a vital part of her very life for
those few wonderful months.
While I was some of the time consumed with that fearful unsatisfied
desire during the months prior to my confinement, I had many hours of
pure delight with that little lively being inside of me, as it grew and
waxed strong. At night I would sing or pat it to sleep with the same
tenderness as a mother with her baby in her arms.
Had I been as wise at that time as I was in after years, how different
things would have been. Yet I have always felt glad that, in my
ignorance, I had no children, for I did not know of the responsibilities
of the parent to the unborn. This is where I want to reach mothers and
prospective mothers—reach them with real facts and not with theories
which make so little impression.
In discussing some of my conclusions with a woman of my own age, who is
well known in both social and literary circles, she held up her hands in
holy horror and said, “Oh! do not take away from the youth of today the
beautiful glamor of love!” She has a daughter who, at a very early age,
eloped with their chauffeur. Later she confessed to me, although she had
been married three times (No. 1 had died, No. 2 was divorced, and with
No. 3 she had not lived since her children were very small) she had
never been able to live without a man since she was seventeen years old!
Yet she wished to keep “the glamor of love” intact for the youth of
today!
I smile, yes, and lament with the youth of today, in wondering what
“glamor” is left for them with the forebears they have had. Do we think
we are fooling these wise children of today?
CHAPTER XII
The year following my great disappointment was one of even worse
torture. I was again anxious to become pregnant and was met with an
equal determination on the part of my husband that I should not be.
After each session of the act which was so abhorrent to me, I was left
in tears. I really did long for a child, in spite of all that I had gone
through. I had, of course, no idea why things were so upset, or that I
had any great responsibilities in the matter other than to have the baby
and then take care of it. No pleas of mine had any effect. I felt that
it was because of the great expense connected with my confinement that
he objected to another trial. As I have said, I realize that I did not
have the love for him that I should have had to marry him, but I married
to obtain a father for my children. It was becoming harder and harder
for me even to tolerate him. My young cousin, Gladys, was still very
devoted to me, but we often wondered whether we had anything to do with
the sad ending to my hopes.
It was thought best for me to be at the boarding house the following
summer, as there would be more to occupy my mind, than to go to the
place where my husband was to start a home. I was very glad of this
arrangement, for when I was alone I was sad. My favorite sister, Peter’s
wife, died soon after I was married, with a broken heart, I always
thought, as I am sure she felt her husband was not true to her, though
she never suspected the part I had had to play. She was sad to have me
marry, as she wanted me to be always with her. We were very close in our
understanding of each other, though little of an intimate character was
ever said.
I was glad for the busy life during the summer at the farm. I did much
of the entertaining of the guests, and entered into all of the gaieties
with my usual vigor and enthusiasm. I made some very delightful
acquaintances among them. They were of a class with whom I felt more at
ease than with the simpler country folk, though I tried hard not to show
it. I attended to the correspondence of the house. As a sequel to rather
an extended correspondence with one lady, going into all details, it was
arranged that she was to arrive on a certain date, with three small boys
and a French maid.
I introduced myself on the stairs, as she was being shown to her rooms.
We looked at each other hard, and I could detect a certain wonderment in
her eyes, which, by the way, were beautiful indeed.
She afterwards told me she could not picture me in that atmosphere. Many
times I wondered myself how I came to be there. But I was playing the
game without flinching, and no one knew.
Mrs. Barr-Jones, as we will call her, well known in New York society and
in musical and dramatic circles, and I became very good friends, as we
realized there was a social bond at least and then, too, there seemed to
be an immediate personal attraction.
Peter had returned East for the summer and was making a long visit at
the home of my parents, a sad visit for all, it would seem. He came to
see me often, but I was usually too busy for any extended visits and I
managed that there should not be any. The old suggestions were made as
to the resumption of former relations, but at last I was able to put him
where he belonged, and in no gentle manner did I let him see how I
despised him for the role to which he had subjected me. Gladys had no
love for the activities of the house, so had much leisure on her hands,
and was only too glad to go for walks and drives with Peter. I did warn
her that he was an awful flirt and that she should be on her guard, but
I could not go into details. She promptly fell in love with him, as so
many poor females had before.
Mrs. Barr-Jones (the mother of three adorable boys, two still in
dresses, and all of whom love me to this day) and I had much in common,
in our love for music. While her voice was waning, she still sang with
great charm. She was one of the first society girls in New York to make
the startling plunge from a most exclusive set and land on the stage,
under one of the leading managers of the city.
We immediately began planning a play, to be given in the great barn for
some special occasion. When she found that I had had some experience in
private theatricals, she at once insisted that I should take the male
lead, opposite to her. I felt absolutely natural in that role and, even
during rehearsals, I felt her yielding more and more to my advances. It
became more natural as I, too, felt a great attraction for her.
We sent to the city for necessary wigs and costumes as there was not a
single dress suit in the whole town. The final performance was given
before a crowded barn, as all of the townspeople were invited, and we
made a great hit. It was really a finished performance, as perhaps I
shouldn’t say. My conquest of Mrs. B.-J. was complete. Without pressing
my suit further she was quite willing—in fact, urged a bit of love
making in our own roles.
There was a ball in the large parlors of the house after the play, and
all the summer girls and the winter ones, too, begged me to keep on my
costume of the play. I danced well and always loved to lead, so I was
besieged by all the girls. I had a vivid exhibition of what I afterwards
learned many an attractive fellow had to go through to defend himself
against the onslaught of a bevy of amorous girls. They stopped at
nothing and made confessions to me that night that amazed me.
I did not care to be wooed, still preferring to be one to do the
capturing. Mrs. Barr-Jones was the favored one, yet I had to be ever on
the alert that no one should suspect the attachment. We managed to have
our little love times (and is there any one who cannot so manage?) when
she would be entranced, and I would be left high and dry, as usual.
The summer passed and she left, after making me promise that I would
visit her during the winter.
That was a mad summer, as I was just trying to hide my grief, for I did
suffer the keenest sorrow away down inside of me. What I seemed obliged
to face looked all so black. My pleadings with my husband still kept on,
but with the same results. He had his satisfaction with painful
regularity, however, as it “was necessary for a man to have such
relief!” I turn to stone whenever I hear that inane remark, as I do so
often! As though a man or a boy needed that outlet for their excessive
or normal vitality any more than, or in some cases half as much as, a
girl or a woman. Yet society decrees that so it is, and so it is
accepted, whether by paying for it in the open mart before marriage or
demanding it after marriage.
I am basing these opinions on the confessions of many women who have
been through the same experience with their husbands as I had had.
I prevailed upon my husband to give his consent to my going to New York
for the visit with Mrs. B.-J. He was so thrilled with my success as an
actress, he said he was afraid Mrs. B.-J. would persuade me to go on the
stage. I was not only glad to be with my lady again, but was especially
happy to be free from all matrimonial ties. I was discouraged and
reckless, and entered into the gay life of the opera, music, stage, and
society with my old enthusiasm, regardless of what was going on in my
inner consciousness. I had come to believe that nothing was ever going
to make me like other women, and I did not care.
Flo, the Professor and the small son lived in Brooklyn and, as they knew
I was in New York, I was invited to dine with them and it was arranged
that the Professor would take me back to my friends, as I did not know
much about the big city.
It had been many months since we had met, and of course the first thing
to be done was to admire the bouncing baby boy. He was a fine chap with
a wonderful head.
I believe all of our thoughts went back to the months before that boy
was born, wondering whether there might develop some propensities
resultant from those proceedings, but no reference was made to this
subject. When dinner was announced the baby was given over to the nurse,
having been kept up for my benefit. My thoughts centered on my own loss
with renewed bitterness, but I was always able to keep my feelings under
control. We dined and wined and talked of various things.
I recall some very fine sherry served with one of the courses and we all
smiled when we remembered that Flo had once said that sherry stirred her
sexually as no other wine did. I was gay and, at the same time, became
more and more rebellious.... Both the Professor and I were in a
dangerous mood when we left for New York, and I imagine the lady knew it
and did not care.
It was suggested that we stop on the way home at a remote little hotel,
which the Professor seemed to know quite well as being one where no
questions would be asked. I think I rather demurred, but then it flashed
across my mind that I would throw discretion to the winds and endure the
moment in the hope that perhaps there might be a chance of becoming
pregnant. We stopped, and my whole hope for the future lay in the next
hours, as I thought.
* * * * *
I went home shortly and, in my pretended joy at being back again, I
quite overcame my husband’s precaution and began joyously to predict
that I knew the result of that one session would be the creation of the
longed-for child. Much to his horror, it was so.
These disclosures are to show to what lengths one will go in the desire
for a child, and to have a lasting excuse for marriage. It will be seen
that the ideal was not reached but, to a mind ignorant on sex problems,
it seemed the best way to force an issue.
I was far from well all through the period of pregnancy and my husband
became more and more disgusted because I had arrived at that condition.
I could see that we were growing farther and farther apart, but I did
sincerely hope that, with the coming of this baby, I would be able to
become a faithful and normal wife and mother.
I will always feel that it was through the bungling of a doctor, who
became very drunk before the delivery of this child, that the little one
was not living, after a long and terrible period of labor. Many will say
that it was God’s will. Of course I now feel it was better that the
result of my madness was as it was.
This time, however, my mind nearly went with the life of the child. If I
ever had any love, as I pretended to have for my husband, I now knew it
was over and that I could never take up that life again. It had all been
an awful mess from the beginning. I simply refused to stay with the man
who should have bought his pleasures and hired a housekeeper.
I stayed with my mother for a while under our doctor’s care. They both
thought that I should go away for a while, so I went to Mrs. Barr-Jones,
who was very sympathetic. Being with her little boys seemed to ease my
aching heart. The doctors in the country decreed that I must never try
to have another child and, as the thought of being a legitimatized
prostitute the rest of my life did not appeal to me, I never went back
to my husband.
I found I was in need of expert medical attention, as I was left in a
deplorable condition by the bunglers in the country. There had been
terrible lacerations after the first confinement and worse after the
second, so I was under treatment all winter. Mrs. B.-J. was anxious to
have me stay with her, so to ease my mind, she let me teach her little
boys. When her friends saw the methods I was using with these boys, they
wanted me to take their children, so I was soon conducting a real little
private school along public school lines.
An account of this school appeared one day in the _Evening Sun_, written
by a woman who had visited me and had seen the success of my original
ideas.
Mrs. B.-J. and I enjoyed our life together, but I was still groping for
the real soul mate who I always felt was waiting somewhere for me—some
one with whom I could experience a oneness which had been my ideal.
The affair with the Professor, which I have described, did not further
attract me. Beyond having accomplished the thing for which I lent myself
so recklessly, contact with a man had nothing but repulsion for me.
I enjoyed much during these months with these friends. Theirs was
another musical atmosphere, such as I had so enjoyed in our home during
my childhood, only on a much more classical plane.
I was introduced to music of which I had never dreamed, and famous
musicians would gather for the most wonderful evenings. Mr. Barr-Jones
was a genius. He had a most finished gift at the piano. With little
technique, he was always chosen to accompany the greatest artists. He
simply lived the atmosphere of the singer and the song and a perfect
harmony resulted.
CHAPTER XIII
One family who had been guests at the summer home of my husband’s family
lived in New York. They were all fond of me and I liked them well. A
young daughter, who was one of my admirers but for whom I had none other
than a friendly feeling, was at this time in very poor health. Her
family were much worried and, in their perplexity, they talked with me
about her. She had no appetite and was growing thin.
One time I was asked to stay for the night, as they were to have some
kind of a party that evening. I did so and occupied a room with the
daughter.
Much to my surprise she began to make love to me violently, a thing that
was never even hinted at before. I have spoken of my attitude towards
one who assumed the role of the “wooer” and I felt a great repulsion
towards this attack.
In her excitement she went into ecstasies about the sensations she was
able to experience by herself. This was something new to me, so I became
an interested listener, as I thought I might perhaps find out something
about her indisposition, which was so worrying her parents. Soon she had
confided in me completely. I was worried and said all I could to
dissuade her from going on with the practices to which she had confessed
as her health would entirely give way, and tried to make her see that
she was worrying her parents nearly to death. She was an only child and
had been “Oh! so carefully brought up.” Of course this was a subject
they never could with propriety discuss with a child!
After my visit ended, I decided to see the doctor of that family, and
have a frank talk with him. He was a very old friend of the family and I
had met him socially at their home.
I went to him and told him what I had discovered and begged to try to
stop it, thinking of course he would be only too thankful to me for
discovering the trouble which had seemed to baffle even him in his
conduct of the case.
Much to my amazement he arose in mighty indignation that I should even
suggest such a thing. He was furthermore insulting in his insinuations,
that I was either inventing the occurrence or that I was responsible for
the enlightenment of the girl. He ordered me out of his office, and said
he would go to the parents and thus stop any further danger for the
girl. What he said to them I never knew, but I was informed by those
good people that it was their desire, for reasons which they chose to
keep to themselves, that my friendship with their daughter should cease.
My school had grown to such proportions that I had now taken a large
studio apartment on Washington Square.
This girl came to me one day in despair, and told me that she had been
forbidden my friendship. She was in a state of rebellion, as she had no
idea of what was back of it all. She said it was so unfair that she
would not obey them, and she would come to me, as she was so fond of me
she could not give our friendship up.
I calmed her down, and of course did not reveal the reason for this act
on the part of her parents. I talked long and seriously with her, and
finally got her to see that she was wrong in so indulging herself. She
made me a promise that she would try her best to overcome the habit. I
had known that masturbation was a habit indulged in by boys, but this
was my first knowledge that it was and is a very common habit with girls
as well. I was determined that she should not come to see me, and she
obeyed my command. Years afterwards I ran across her in New York,
happily married, but with no children. No reference was made to our
former experience. Our meeting was quite natural, and we enjoyed a
friendly visit.
I understood better the attitude of that doctor, while at the time I was
so furious I could hardly contain myself. I have discovered for myself,
and doctors have told me, that no parent will ever believe that their
own precious offspring would or could ever indulge in any unnatural
practices. Of others they could readily believe it but not of theirs!
Doctors have also told me that they would be promptly dismissed if they
were to attempt to disclose to parents the real trouble with their
child.
No children will ever acknowledge that they are doing such a thing,
either to their parents or to anyone else, unless they are caught in the
act.
* * * * *
One thing I am trying to show is the pity of planting in the mind of the
small child the deadly poison of fear and what it leads to.
A young girl will never dare to tell her parents the truth about herself
for fear of punishment. She will not dare to tell a doctor the truth, as
she would be ashamed to. If she should dare tell the doctor, he in turn
would not dare tell the parents, for fear of offending and thereby
losing his patients.
Doctors grope about in the dark many times to find causes. They may have
theories, but unless they get the information straight from the only one
who knows, how are they to do other than resort to the fatal sentence,
as an example, of “She must never again try to have another child”?
No one but the woman who really wants to have children, as I did, knows
the heartbreak those words cause. At the time it was told me, I had to
believe it.
If only it may be possible for parents to look at the most vital problem
in life in a sane manner, and go fully into questions of sex with their
children with no feeling of shame, and obtain real co-operation from
scientific minds by placing all the cards on the table, great good would
be accomplished.
Older people will have to relegate to the trash heap such fallacies as,
“My daughter tells me everything” or “I know my child has no idea
regarding questions of sex.”
Just believe that they do know more than one realizes, and also know
just how they have found out these things, and at what cost. From the
minute when the average mother slaps a baby hand and says, “No! no!
don’t put your hands there, naughty! naughty!” that baby is wondering
why its hands are slapped and soon, on the sly, he is going to see what
will happen if he goes on doing the same thing, if he is not discovered.
There is some good reason why a baby’s hand goes to its little sensitive
private parts. That baby is not doing it at first because it is naughty,
as he is told so early. If mothers would only do the reasonable thing
and, without punishing, investigate the cause of some little irritation
which might come from not properly washing those parts or from wrapping
them up too closely with all the clothes deemed necessary, and then take
the necessary steps to correct the conditions, they would probably find
no further immediate cause for the youngster to endeavor to alleviate
the uncomfortable sensation himself.
All sorts of wonderful instruction is being given to young mothers, as
to the best methods of feeding and the general care of children. This
also is necessary. But I have yet to learn of training as to how to
overcome the tendency of a child to handle its genital organs, except by
punishment of some kind.
These ideas, based as they are upon my own personal experiences, have
given me such an understanding of many of these problems that I cannot
but pass them on to the public.
CHAPTER XIV
When the suggestion came from one who has given the subject of sex
exhaustive study, and with whom I had talked at some length though
without revealing the most vital experiences I had been through, that I
should write a record of my experiences in life, I said, “Write a
history of my life? Why, my life is something I have thrown away long
ago!”
So I had considered for a long time. But I promised to consider the
task. Then the question came to my mind, “What is my life?” “Who am I?”
I believe such questions baffle everyone.
As a girl and a young woman, great things were predicted for my future
by my elders. As I came from a long line of artists, both in painting
and music, it was felt that I was the one who had been given the gift to
carry on in that line, as I had done some things with my brushes that
gave much promise.
As I was the only child in the combined families who would sit quietly
when my father and others were singing, without being “made” to do so,
and because I had a true natural singing voice, music was to be my
forte. As a very young child I would sit entranced by the music of
Chopin, as played by an intimate friend of the family. This was
considered quite unusual in a child. I would even hum certain parts of
my favorite composition by that great master, so that my friend could at
once know just what I wanted her to play.
During a severe attack of inflammatory rheumatism when about twelve
years old, when no opiates could deaden the pain, my father would sit
nearly the whole night through at the piano, playing very softly, mostly
in chords, as music with which I was familiar would stir me. In this
way, I would sleep peacefully.
My sisters, of course, felt that I would make a brilliant marriage. Poor
dears! They knew wherein they had failed, in all probability. From a
worldly point of view, there were many turned down who have turned out
famous, and some rich and some scamps. So there you are!
My brothers? Well, they knew I would always be a “Tom Boy”—a thing they
reveled in when we were at the playmate age, but held up as an accusing
epithet in after years, when it was rather a rare thing for a girl to
prefer playing with boys.
My dear mother? Harassed almost beyond endurance by financial and other
worries when I came, the last of the nine children. This I better
realized later in life, but to me then, she was the stern parent; the
one who was feared, as she was the one to administer the frequent
spankings. What did she predict for me? I never knew.
Upon one occasion I was turned over to my father with the order for him
to do his duty in the form of a spanking. Many times I knew why I was
punished. I could never see just why I should be hurt, as what I did, I
know now, was only the natural thing which any normal child would do—a
child who could be reasoned with and shown just why it was undesirable
to do thus and so. I distinctly remember upon that occasion I had not
the slightest idea what I was to be punished for.
I simply was overwhelmed that my father, who had always been such a pal,
was going to hurt me. I just stared at him before and after the
spanking. Never a sound did I make. I simply walked away, a very solemn
and sad child.
As I sat thinking it over, with my heart so heavy, I happened to hear my
father say to my mother, “Don’t you ever ask me to whip that child
again, for I will never do it.” That remark wiped away all doubts and my
confidence in him was reinstated. I knew he understood things just as I
did, though matters were never discussed.
All the demonstrations of affection I ever had as a child came from my
father and my oldest sister. I was inclined to be demonstrative, and it
was a comfort to show my affection for these two all my life, or rather
all of their lives.
My father was always delighted when there were prospects of a new
arrival in the family. My mother told me later in life that my father
actually wept when he found there were to be no more babies.
All of this seemingly unjust punishment inflicted by my mother never
destroyed a deep affection for her. It nearly killed me to see her
suffer, either from physical pain or mental anguish, as I often had
occasion to do.
A few years before I was born, and while she was pregnant with the
brother of whom I have written as the leader of our clan, three children
died. One a baby, about two years old, of membranous croup. One was a
beautiful girl, judging from a portrait of her which was painted by my
uncle when she was twelve years old. She died in a first attack of
inflammatory rheumatism. When I came down with that same disease at the
same age, there was of course great fear for my life. I have been
through many attacks of this awful malady during my life, but for some
unknown reason my life has so far been spared. A boy of sixteen was the
third child to go during that sad year.
How I suffered when I saw tears in my mother’s eyes. These children died
before I was born, so of course I could not realize why there should be
so many times of grief for them. I never could comfort my mother as I
longed to do in a child’s dumb way, by putting my arms about her neck
and kissing her. Any attempt at such a demonstration would be met with
“There! there! now run away and don’t be silly!” She may have longed for
those caresses, but the stern puritanical training, which held emotions
of that kind to be taboo, must have had its effect. Only once did I ever
feel near my mother, when she let me glimpse a softness I never dreamed
was in her nature.
When I left my husband and home after my second confinement, she
realized I would never return to those conditions. She approved the step
I was taking, and gave me a letter to read later.
In that letter she really did open her wonderful heart. She said she
longed to take me in her arms and tell me of her great love and
sympathy, but that she simply could not do it, with further tender and
loving expressions.
It was to me she chose to come in her last years, and it was my joy to
give her a home and care for her. She accepted my life as I chose to
live it. She loved the friend who shared my home as another daughter,
and not only tolerated our smoking—a habit which I formed early in
life—but even enjoyed seeing me smoke as it reminded her so much of my
father, who had passed on several years before. Everyone always said I
was very much like my father. His family were of English stock and had
not many of the puritanical ideas. Yet I have always had a deep
reverence for things spiritual.
There were three occasions in my early life that were dreaded, and
caused me more heartaches than any I can remember. These recurred with
distressing regularity.
One, when I would find my mother before a little old hair-covered trunk,
weeping over baby toys and clothing belonging to the children who had
died. Again, in the Spring, when the first blossoms of the incomparable
trailing arbutus were brought in by us children, who were full of joy at
again finding the lovely blossoms, which should have been covered with
snow for many weeks, and the placing of this flower on the three little
graves. More of those tears which I could not dry in my mother’s eyes!
The third occasion came on communion Sunday, and the tears would fall
from her eyes as my mother put the piece of bread in her mouth and
tasted something from a cup. It was a Unitarian church, where the bread
and wine were passed from pew to pew.
We were all taken to church every Sunday, and I remember always peering
around the great pulpit as we entered, to see whether those awful silver
cups and covered plates were on the table. What a relief when I found
some flowers there instead of the things which would bring the tears to
the eyes which were dear to me. Always I went to church with that dread
in my heart. One must not think my mother was of a “weepy” nature.
Rarely did the tears flow, and when they did, it was so silently and
sadly that I was stabbed to the heart.
Why is it that mothers do not explain simply to a wondering little mind
things which it could understand? I have tried to show, by thus going
into details, the cruelty of not doing so. When a child is old enough to
wonder, he is old enough to have things explained.
For years I could not think of the communion with anything but
intolerance because of the tears it had brought to the eyes of my
mother.
When she saw me smoking, her memory must have carried back to the days
of many spankings for that act. Did those spankings do any good? I could
see no consistency in spanking me for something which my father did, and
saying it was bad. It was not bad. As a child, I knew it. I did not do
it because my father did. Most children, boys and girls, try it out on
the sly early in life. Some like it and keep on. They find it does not
kill them or make them ill. I did this and have smoked continually, one
might say, all of my life.
When boys or girls are shown that, in athletics or in some other way, it
is handicapping them, they will choose to stop smoking but they will
never stop because some one says it is bad or immoral. They know better.
The same thing is true in matters of sex. When things are not explained
to a child in other ways than by spanking them and telling them
“naughty, naughty,” they are going on many a disastrous voyage of
discovery on their own hook.
As I recall that old church of my childhood, there comes to me one
incident which filled my soul with glee and which I thoroughly
understood.
My father sang in the choir, as did the Mr. Wiggins, of whom I have
written. During a solo by my father one Sunday, something happened so
unusual I was terrified. My father’s voice faltered for a second and the
choir went on with his solo.
When we were driving home I asked him why he stopped. He was even then
distinctly disturbed and said that that damned tooth of his which was on
a pivot dropped into his mouth. He was so disgusted he just blew it out
into the church as far as he could, and he swore he would never again
sing in public. He never did.
I took it as a huge joke, and my mirth over the episode nearly upset the
big carriage full of family. I pictured Deacon So-and-so picking said
tooth out of his ear or Grandma or Aunt this or that shaking the tooth
off her Sunday “bunnit” after church and forever after hunting for the
person with a cavity in the first floor front. Even father had to join
in the laughter. I am sure my mother hoped it had also wiped away his
determination not to sing again, as she well knew that was the only
reason for his going to church.
My mother’s type of religion required the convention of regular church
attendance, while my father’s spiritual nature, which was, I believe,
fully as deep as that of my mother, was satisfied with the great open
spaces where he could worship the works of God in his own way. My
father’s love of flowers and all natural beauties was intense, and I
realize that my walks with him upon the rare occasions when I was
allowed to stay home from church, had a much greater influence upon my
spiritual development than did the church attendance, when I always had
the fear of the tear-inducing service. The joy of going straight to the
spot where the rare wild flowers grew, at the very time when the
blossoms would be in perfection, is vivid to me now. As I wondered how
my father could know just when they would be in bloom, he would give me
a beautiful conception of the way God’s plans were carried out when they
were not meddled with by humans. That great truth was so logical to my
young mind, I would often say to myself, when the flowers in the garden
did not come up to expectations, that it was because we had not done
things as God would do. How wonderful it would have been if that lesson
could have been carried into more of one child’s problems!
When I realize the wonderful opportunities for lessons in physical
development, and in the conception and creation of the human being, that
my father passed by on those walks, when he could so beautifully have
explained life in a way to dispel all of the natural childish curiosity,
I could weep even now. I was not too young to have understood, even at
the age when he would often have to carry me in his arms to rest my
tired little feet.
However, what I missed other children, I believe, have gained, as it has
been my privilege, at the request of parents, to present these truths to
many boys and girls in such a way as to dispel the idea that there need
be anything to be ashamed of in the knowledge of the conception and
development of the human any more than in the creation and development
of the perfect flower.
This bit of retrospection may have some bearing on the formation of my
character, which I have always found so complex and mystifying.
Possibly I have been indulging a tendency so common in advancing years
to yield to the thought of “that reminds me.” How many events crowd into
my mind—events which have been filed for so long with the things which I
have been all my life struggling to forget, and believing I had actually
forgotten! Does one ever forget a single sensation in any way related to
matters of sex? Yet isn’t it strange that sensations so unforgettable
are seldom translated into words.
And so I have wondered which has been or is, of my many selves, my real
self—or if I have one. I have been engaged in many different
enterprises, or occupations, seemingly in periods averaging about five
or six years in duration. I know I have been a success in the positions
I have held—not to my own financial benefit but as respects the work
itself. I have never taken up any work without fully believing in it. I
was used to hearing my friends say, “You are just made for this work.”
At the time I felt so myself. Then would come this recurring urge for
change which I could not combat. It would seem that my whole being was
turning inside out and that I was fated to be someone else. I have
always given up each work of my own volition, and always to the apparent
consternation and dismay of my employers.
I am naturally leaving out details of that side of my life that has
always been an open book. I refer to it to try to answer the question,
“Was that my real self?” In discussing the sexual side of my nature I
ask the same question.
Looking back over my life as I do now, as I near its close, I feel that
each side is real—that neither one would be complete without the other.
Social ethics have declared that the spiritual and the material aspects
of one’s nature should be widely separated, the one concealed, so to
speak, whereas, were they both to be made open books and all the deceit
and lies abolished, there would be more normal human beings in the
world.
Now to go back to the revelations by my young friend. People have always
confided in me. I have, I believe, always had a sympathy for and
understanding of human problems. I have never betrayed the trust people
have placed in me. I am now doing no more than generalize. What I say is
not based on extensive research under this or that foundation, nor on
statistics gathered from children or adolescents who would never tell
the truth regarding such matters. I am writing about actual experiences
of my own, and of actual experiences related to me by others.
There are few problems I have not met and fought out alone during my
life, and I feel that perhaps experience may be the best teacher.
Many women have told me of their dissatisfaction with the sexual side of
married life; that sexual intercourse apparently brought blissful peace
to the husband, while it served but to arouse the wife’s desire to the
point of madness. There lies the peacefully sleeping satisfied man and
beside him lies the wide-awake, distraught wife, who develops nerves and
resorts to medicine to quiet what nature intended should be quieted in
quite another way.
Why cannot _love_ and _desire_ be parted definitely? They cannot be
_one_ when the chief attribute of love is to give of one’s self for the
joy and happiness of another and desire is solely for the selfish
pleasure of physical satisfaction. A sore throat or headache, a backache
or bunion, are treated scientifically and relief comes. Compared with
the suffering of these petty ills, who is there that has experienced the
tortures of unsatisfied sexual desire, which comes at times to every
human being as a perfectly natural disease, we may call it, who would
not welcome a “perfectly natural” and legitimate remedy for this
suffering?
A woman needs this relief quite as much as a man needs it, popular and
old-fashioned ideas to the contrary notwithstanding.
Medical science knows why so many women, young and old, are being
maintained in our insane asylums today. It is because of unsatisfied
sexual desire.
It certainly was not sexual desire that led me to the altar. I had never
felt the desire for a man, probably because of my early and unfortunate
experiences, but in my ignorance I supposed I was the only woman who did
not possess that desire.
Scientific works on this subject are usually filled with technical
terms, involving hidden meanings, and based almost entirely upon theory.
Few have dared, I believe, to go right to the foundation in the frank
way I am now doing. These books, therefore, make little or no impression
on the lay person, into whose hands they rarely come.
Conservative old women, clinging to old-fashioned ideas, will raise
their hands in holy horror to think that another old woman not so
old-fashioned has dared expose facts they have ever held secretly in
their hypocritical hearts. I have done it all my life, so I know. Of
course there are many who have never met the problems set forth in this
book. On the other hand, the actual experiences of one ordinary woman
who, I trust, will strike them as being sincere, written down with no
ulterior motives, I hope may solve like problems for girls and women in
similar situations, and also help them to understand the problems which
today confront the youth of our country, that they may understand and
help their own children.
CHAPTER XV
For several years, my little school kept me in the city near both my
friends. The Professor’s wife was not actively in my life, however,
after the night when I made my last desperate fight for motherhood.
No one will ever know what my suffering was or has been and will ever be
that I was not to know the joy of having a living child. Remembering the
grief it was to me to see my mother brooding over the little toys and
garments of her lost children, I immediately gave away all of the pretty
things which I had so happily prepared for the little ones. Never again
was I even tempted to marry, though suitors old and new appeared at
different times.
My actress friend was still the favored one and, although I lived in my
studio where I had my school, we had many evenings together, with music
and theaters, and many evenings alone in my studio, where some wonderful
love making (as we thought it to be) took place.
I knew this was not the ideal love of my life, which I always hoped
would come to me, yet it was not merely animal attraction. The desire to
make her happy, in a way she had never known before, was brought on by
some great impulse, stirred by hearing some wonderful music or by a
visit to the various picture galleries in which I would spend hours.
Pictures alive with soul and atmosphere would stir me as would beautiful
music. Beauty would inspire me to do better the work before me and to
broaden my views of life in many ways; to forget myself and the
suffering I had endured. Indeed, I felt I was a better woman after I had
looked upon some great work of art. Hard as it may be to believe it,
there would come a real spiritual uplift such as never came through the
prescribed channels of churchly religion.
Corot was and ever has been my idol in the world of art. It was my joy
to perform certain secretarial duties in an art gallery where I could
absorb and study four of Corot’s most famous works. I was always
thankful that I had inherited from my father a love and an appreciation
of these paintings. These paintings the father of my employer had taken
for debt, and bequeathed, along with many millions of dollars, to his
daughter, who had no conception of art in any form.
I cannot refrain here from a little reminiscence. During this period of
my work, I was commissioned to buy a small rug to fit a special place in
this art gallery. The thrill I felt when I discovered a little Bokhara,
the color and texture of which would melt in your mouth, or rather into
your heart! It did into mine, so I ordered it sent to the house on
approval. No special enthusiasm was shown when I exhibited the prize,
yet it was placed on the floor for consideration. The delight I had with
that bit of color all day cannot be described. First in the bright
sunlight, again in the shadow; now in the candle glow and then in the
glare of the electric lights. Always a new thrill.
That was _my rug day_. Time has never erased the joy of that day. The
following day the rug was returned, with the casual remark that a maid
had discovered it to have been slightly worn in one or two places, which
showed that a second-hand rug had been thrust upon an unsuspecting
secretary. I am quite sure that she never did any more buying from a
firm which would send her a second-hand rug! What was the use! I did not
even try to explain. She probably never knew that the same rug was later
placed in a wonderful collection and a much more marvelous price paid
for it than at which it was offered to her.
I think I have mentioned the fact that I was left in a very terrible
condition after my two confinements. It was necessary for me to be
mended before I would be able to carry on my work and support myself.
After months of treatment I was at last ready for the operation which
was to restore to normal the work of the country “butchers,” as the
specialist called them. The operation was very complicated, but after a
few weeks in the hospital, the doctor pronounced the results
satisfactory and said that I was as good as new.
I did ask him if he considered it wise for me to have a child again and
he said there could be no possible danger. I think I may have asked this
as a sort of test for myself; also to assure myself of the fallacy of
doctors pronouncing the fatal words to so many women. Had I been wise
then as I am today and if the views of man had been different, I feel
convinced that I might have had a child some time by a father chosen
just for that occasion. I realize, however, that there are quite a few
questions to be settled before that method may be entirely fair to the
child.
My city contact had caused me to look at myself less and less as a
sexual monstrosity. I was thrown in a great measure with people who saw
only the feminine side of my nature.
About this time my husband divorced me on the grounds of desertion. I
could have brought counter suit on the grounds of non-support, but I had
no desire to do so. If he wanted to marry again I was glad—for him—so I
made no protest, not even appearing. My lawyer notified me when the
divorce was granted and of the time when I would be free to marry again.
I was urged by friends and suitors to marry, but I had firmly made up my
mind that I could never again endure the intimacy of a man as a husband,
and on this point I never changed my mind.
I met many charming men. I enjoyed their companionship and always felt
more at home with them as a group than with a lot of women. I looked at
life through a man’s eyes. Women as individuals interested me but men,
never. I did not fall in love with women but I was ever groping to find
the Perfect Mate who I believed existed for me. Mentality and tastes
were first considerations, and it was a long hunt.
Now opens what I feel to be the most important and probably the most
significant era in my life. By this time I had firmly made up my mind
that the masculine role was the one which appealed to me far more than
that of the female, which I had been trying to play and with such little
success. I believed that “All the world’s a stage.” I had played the
different parts assigned to me, or chosen by myself, as well as I could.
I had so far been a poor manager for myself. My work under the direction
of an employer was always more than satisfactory.
Notwithstanding these facts, I felt the urge to start out for myself not
only in a business way but also wholly in control of my emotional
nature, which I was beginning to understand a little better.
I had always been fond of amusing children, and one time I hit upon an
easily constructed toy which always delighted them. It came to my mind
one day that as this toy had an expanse of paper, it could be used for
advertising purposes. I went to my parents’ home, much to their delight,
and to test out my idea, I made a few of these toys and tried them “on
the dog,” so to speak. That is, I went to the nearest large town and in
one day I easily secured forty dollars worth of “ads.” That amount would
be net to me after all expenses were paid.
I bought enough paper at retail prices to make up a few thousand of
these toys and found that I was able to sell them without any trouble,
wherever I went, in all the towns near home. I was convinced that I had
a good business if I handled it myself. I then bought a ton of paper
direct from the mill, taught a few people to make the toys, and applied
for a patent, which I secured later.
Then I started out and worked all the small towns in the vicinity and
then the nearby cities. I got orders as fast as I could travel, and soon
had to buy some simple machines to expedite the manufacture and so
hasten the delivery.
It was a most interesting as well as a remunerative experience. In those
days a woman salesman was unknown. I always dressed in a tailor-made
suit with a man’s shirt and tie, and wore a Fedora hat.
When I entered a store, got in touch with the proprietor, and stated my
business, it was amusing to watch the customers, clerks, other salesmen
“stop, look, and listen.” Here was apparently a cultivated lady,
speaking good English, selling something she had invented herself! An
unheard of thing. The ease with which I sold the toy astonished any
drummer who might be in the store at the time I went in. I always asked
them to finish their business before I took the floor, but they were so
curious to see what I was doing that they always insisted upon my going
ahead.
I stopped at the best hotels and many times, while I was at dinner in
the evening, these drummers would come to my table, introduce
themselves, and begin to talk business. They had seen me selling the toy
and all wanted to carry it as a side line.
I was only too anxious to find someone who could sell it, for, while it
was interesting for a while for me to try the sales end of the business,
I could see that it would be far more interesting for me to sit at my
desk and manage a much larger business, if I were able to recruit an
efficient staff of workers.
I made business arrangements with several of these drummers but, for
some reason, they were never able to sell the toy. I then realized it
was up to me to do the selling. The success I had gained was probably
due to my having invented it and also, perhaps, to the fact that I had
some personality—always a great factor in the selling of ideas.
I was pleased with the attitude of these drummers on my trips. At that
time, they were regarded as a rather gay lot with the ladies, and I saw
many things in my travels to substantiate that conception. With me it
was different. They were always courteous, and there never was an
attempt at flirting. I approached men as man to man, and they respected
my attitude. I was glad that I rarely had to do business with women.
They always eyed me with a degree of disapproval, and I could see that
my severe style of dress did not appeal to them. I enlarged the field of
my operations and was getting more and more into the class where I could
sell the toys by the thousand to one firm rather than solicit a number
of advertisers on one toy.
I write of this experience only as it leads up to “the great adventure,”
so to speak.
During this period of over a year, my emotional or sexual nature was
dormant. I put my whole heart and soul into that business, for I
believed in it. It was a success financially and I was able to give
occupation to many women in the little country town, much to their
delight.
As I came in contact with women during that period, I came to look at
them as all women, never as woman. They were rather a disturbing
element, as I found them rather difficult in business. It was hard to
get their minds away from the, to them, eccentricities of my dress. One
could easily recognize that the “drummer” was the one great thrill in
their restricted lives, behind those tiresome counters. That women did
not attract me during this interval may not be significant, since,
naturally, I came in no social contact with any, and so never met any
who “spoke my own language” as it were. It also serves to show that
sexuality was not uppermost in my mind.
CHAPTER XVI
My work brought me nearer and nearer to the great city where I was to
tackle one of the largest contracts yet. This was with a big department
store where, if successful, I would sell one hundred thousand. This
would take lots of time and as I was wholly on business bent, I chose to
go to a hotel rather than to any of my friends.
Why I chose to go to a hotel where they catered “to women only” and one
with a religious background, I can never attribute to anything but fate.
When I entered the office to engage a room I found a “fat (un)fair and
forty” female smugly sitting at the desk. She turned to me with a
typical “Christian” expression on her face, which could not hide the
uncompromising, cruel mouth. She may have had a heart, but it was so
well upholstered with adipose tissue that no trace of one was left in
her face. One could readily see that she could turn a young girl into
the streets of that great city, late at night, and a stranger, because
she was not of the faith which would entitle her to a bed and safe
refuge. I learned later this had been done many times in this Christian
hotel!
To me she was suave and smiling and had the expression which said “I am
drawing a big salary for having just this expression between the hours
of — and — daily.” She asked my wishes. As I stood waiting for the fat
one to wait on someone before me, I saw beyond her, over in the rather
hidden corner of the office, a youngish girl sitting on a low stool with
her head bowed and over her face the most beautiful hands I had ever
seen. She was weeping in suppressed sobs. The tears seemed to be coming
from the soul rather than from the eyes.
When asked what the fat one could do for me, I wanted to say “Please
comfort that girl.” But of course that wouldn’t do in such a holy place,
so I told her I would like a room. It was in July, and it hardly
surprised me to find my room very warm. I had plenty to think about. I
had answered with fidelity all the questions asked me, and had been
given a room. I looked about me and was greatly amused by the
expensively printed warnings hanging on the walls. I read the wonderful
words of Christ also printed and framed, and hung as a comfort to the
hearts of the selected, who were of the “right” faith. A plea for
charity! I fell to wondering about the young woman in tears. What
comfort could be found on or in the fat bosom, when the hard mouth
showed how hollow it was, where instead there should have been charity
for all.
Those beautiful hands were before me far into the night. The excessive
heat in that stuffy room also contributed toward keeping me awake. I
thought little of my discomfort, however, as my heart ached for that
girl, whose very hands showed she was out of her sphere. I wondered.
One was allowed to engage a room for only one day at a time but, in
spite of the heat, I was determined to try one more night, all on
account of the sobs of a stranger.
In the morning, I went to the office to see whether my moral status
still measured up to the required standard and—there at the desk—sat the
girl with the beautiful hands. The tears had been dried and she looked
up at me with eyes shining with love and human kindness.
Here was one who could not turn away a girl on account of her religion,
were she not bound by rules so stern she could not evade them. And even
in such a case I was sure she would suggest some way of protecting her.
Turning to me she asked sweetly what she could do for me, instead of
“what did I want.” I said I wished to engage my room for the following
night. When she found which room I had occupied, she turned to me in
astonishment and said: “You are the first woman occupying that room in
the summer who has not entered a violent protest in the morning about
the heat! I will see that you have a better one tonight.”
My business kept me out until quite late in the afternoon. In
acknowledgment of her courtesy in regard to the room, and remembering
her anguish when I first saw her, I brought her a bunch of lovely
violets when I returned.
She was just going “off duty” when I went to the office. As she had
given me a better room and had had my things moved, she said she would
show me where it was, as she was going to that floor. She was greatly
pleased with the flowers, and her lovely eyes thanked me more than
words. I found my room was directly across the hall from hers.
Something told me that here was the girl of my dreams. I wasn’t looking
for her; she just came into my life, and I knew. But how to convince her
that she was to be my mate was the question.
There must be no crude awakening. I knew at once that she was not in her
natural environment; that she had been gently reared, but that, through
some calamity, she was here making a brave and successful fight.
While I naturally hated the whole atmosphere of that whited sepulcher, I
did not hate this one human being connected with the conduct of its
business, so I stayed on, engaging my room day by day and never asking
to have it changed. Let us call my new friend Juno. We met frequently in
the hall, in going to and from our rooms. I had found out her schedule
quite by accident, and found I was making my business engagements fit
into ones which seemed now of more vital importance to me. John Drew was
about to open a new play, and I bought two tickets for the night when I
knew Juno was to be free. When I told her, at one of our chance meetings
in the corridor between our rooms, that I had the tickets, and asked her
to take pity on me, as I had no one with whom to go, she hesitated. She
said she had always observed a custom of the house never to accept an
invitation to go out with a guest. But she also said she longed to go
and, after a little urging, she consented.
She wore a charming, simple little gown which just suited her. I say
“little” simply as a term of endearment, for Juno was taller than I, and
had a magnificently proportioned figure. I dressed in my only change
from the day suit, in a handsome black tailored suit with a black hat
and white silk shirt. I called a hansom when we were away from the
hotel, for fear of hurting the feelings of the dames who did not smile
on this growing friendship.
I remember little of the play. By this time, I was madly in love with
Juno and longed to put my arms about her and tell her of it. It all
seemed so natural and right to me, I inwardly rebelled, of course,
against convention which said “it isn’t done.” Patience was my watchword
for success, as I knew more certainly each minute that we were made for
each other and that in time she would know it too.
On the way home, we stopped at a very conservative hotel, where it was
permissible and wholly respectable for two ladies to have supper without
a male escort. We had a delightful supper and talk, and lingered long,
as there had been no “time limit” for her that evening. She told me much
about her life before she took the position in which I found her. As I
had surmised, she had been brought up in very different surroundings, an
orphan. All her brothers and sisters had been married, she was engaged
to be herself, and was deeply in love with the man. It developed,
however, that there were reasons why she could not marry this man, and
she had decided to find solace in hard work. She had also decided that
she would never marry.
After this first evening, which she said she had enjoyed more than
anything she had done since she had left her home, we had many little
chats and walks together. I referred one day to the tears she was
shedding the first time I ever saw her hands. She laughingly said she
remembered that evening so well. She had heard my voice when I was going
through the awful questioning and longed to look up, even through her
tears, but she did not dare to with those eyes so red. However, she did
go to the register as soon as I had gone upstairs and found out my name.
Perhaps she, too, had that feeling that we were to mean more to each
other. She then told me why she was so silly that night. This was her
first experience in earning her living, as the rich relative who had
brought the children up in the most luxurious surroundings had cut them
off without a penny when he found that they were contemplating marriage.
The occasion of the tears was that some well meaning woman had left the
change of twenty-five cents on the desk and told Juno to keep it for
herself! She thought there could be no greater disgrace in life than to
have to receive a “tip” from a common woman. She had no time to refuse
it, and she dared not throw it after her—a woman with so little
discrimination.
Now my way was clear. I felt that if I could win her love, I might bring
to her even greater happiness than she had anticipated with the man whom
she thought she loved. Furthermore, I would not in any way be
interfering with any future marriage plans.
It was apparent that she thought I was different from any woman she had
ever known, and that she was both interested in and attracted by me. We
had many long walks together and went often to art galleries and to the
theater. Our tastes were much alike, and this comradeship was the
foundation upon which I was working.
My sexual passions were not aroused by my contact with her. I longed to
caress her and give some sign of my love, but I could not do so as yet.
The elderly dames, after the pattern of the one whom I had found in
charge of the hotel when I arrived, while they were always polite to me
and I feel liked me, were alert in their warnings to Juno about forming
a friendship which might interfere with her work. Juno was the only
young person on the “staff.” They were terrified that I might take her
away, for they, as well as everyone else with whom she came in contact,
loved her sincerely.
Juno was entirely out of her element in the place, yet she was doing her
work with a degree of enthusiasm sufficient to sap her vitality quickly.
The dames had no knowledge of me other than they gained by the questions
they asked when I applied for admission to the hotel. They told Juno
that, notwithstanding the fact that I was a charming woman, she should
be a little careful about succumbing to my charms. In after years we
often laughed at these precautions against losing her taken by the
dames.
Our friendship grew. She would often drop into my room on her way to
bed, after an evening on duty. I would leave my door slightly ajar so
she could see that I was lying on the bed and reading.
My personal appearance? If someone else were writing about that I
believe they would say: She had a wonderful complexion and smooth skin,
soft brown hair which curled in little ringlets about the forehead and
neck (it is now snowy white, wavy in front and cut in a “boyish bob”),
which were white and with correct lines; not too fat (as I am now),
artistic hands, also pronounced as capable ones; a figure true to form,
of about “size forty” at that time; graceful in all movements; a voice
soft and well modulated; speaking good English, enunciating her words
easily but clearly, and so on.
One evening I had loosened my necktie and the collar of my light blue
shirt—a color then quite in vogue—and was impatiently waiting for my
girl to be through with her work and to peep in to say good night and
give me the sweet little kiss, as we had progressed to that stage by
this time. Very proper little kisses, however.
My feelings for her at this time were not of an amorous nature. My heart
was calling for her as a mate. We were so in sympathy on every subject
we touched. We loved the same things in music, literature, and art. The
music we heard together stirred her as it did me, with a depth of
emotion we hardly understood. I occasionally got glimpses of her
passionate and hungry nature and longed to open the gates of pent-up
emotion.
During this rapturous period of wooing, I was occupied in a sort of a
desultory way with the large contract for my toy, but I must confess my
heart was somewhere else. There were orders enough ahead to keep the
home forces busy, so I could wait, as indeed it was in a measure
necessary for me to do, in dealing with so large a concern, with all its
complicated machinery.
My other two friends claimed a part of my time, but my heart and
thoughts were so wholly taken up with what I knew to be _the one_ whom I
had sought all my life, that I allowed no opportunity for a possible
resumption of former intimacies with either.
I was patiently waiting for the right time to declare my love—until a
beautiful foundation of sympathy and companionship should be firmly
established, as any wise and normal lover should do.
Hundreds of little ways came to my mind, day by day, in which to nourish
the perfect flower that waxed stronger, and grew and grew.
The time and opportunity came at last, when I was sure that she not only
loved me but was also “in love” with me (but did not realize it), for me
to tell her as gently as possible how deeply I was in love with her and
what I hoped would be the culmination of this great love—that we could
really belong to each other with a more intense love than she had ever
dreamed possible. Of course, she was mystified. My kiss that night was
more intense than ever before, and her lips willingly yielded to
mine....
She was truly worried. She said she loved me madly, but not as she had
ever supposed she could love a woman—even more than she had loved the
man whom she was engaged to marry. She wondered whether I really were a
woman. I assured her that I was, and a wholly normal one, telling her of
my two children, and so forth.
I talked about our possible marriage. Why not? I had thought the thing
out and I argued that a union of hearts and souls constituted a real
union, call it marriage if need be. My experience had shown me that to
most men, and very likely to some women, marriage merely meant a
legitimatized permission to cohabit for the relief of sexual desire.
To me it seemed that a union between two women could be of a higher
type, and creative of a more secure happiness and good than any other.
At this time I was convinced that I was the only woman who had ever
thought of matters in this way. I am sure my thoughts were far from
anything but the highest type of love in all its beauty.
We decided it would be best for both of us to think things over quietly,
before we finally decided to bind ourselves to each other in solemn
compact.
Having at last concluded the deal upon which I had been working, I found
it necessary to go to a city about twelve hours distant by rail. Of
course we were to write often. Juno’s decision would naturally have its
influence upon my future field of action, as she knew. I arranged for
flowers and fruits to be sent to her regularly during my absence, and
was quite the accepted “lover.”
She had much to consider, too, in making any change such as we had
pictured. It would become necessary for her to change or at least to
re-arrange her work, so that we could live together. We had planned to
have our own apartment, each to go on with some work through the day,
but to have our evenings and nights at home to ourselves.
The parting was hard, for we were very dear to each other and had been
together for quite a while, enjoying every minute of our companionship.
I waited twenty-four hours after arriving before I wrote to her. That
had given me time to reassure myself, and she too had been able to think
things over. The letter I wrote must have carried to her some idea of
the love I felt for her and probably gave her a vivid picture of what
our life would be, if lived as one. The following afternoon after I had
made a very good deal with a large firm in that city, and so kept the
home fires burning, I received a telegram from her: “Come, every bit of
me wants you,” signed with an initial.
I canceled business engagements for the next day and hustled about to
find that, by taking a night boat (a mode of travel I had always hated),
I could reach the city early in the morning of a day I knew Juno was to
be free. I wired her to be at our quiet and conservative hotel at a
certain hour in the morning, and to wait if I were late.
How it rained all night! I knew, for I walked the covered deck until
nearly morning. It was still pouring when, after a short sleep, I
resumed my impatient marathon with renewed vigor.
CHAPTER XVII
The boat docked and the rain fell in torrents. I called a cab and gave
the driver directions to go to a wholesale florist, anywhere he could
find one on the way uptown. It took some persuasion to get the big bunch
of violets from the wholesaler, but I did so, and sped away to my love.
The wonderful violets alone would have told the story of my love for
her, for they personified everything beautiful.
When I arrived, Juno was waiting for me in the parlor of our hotel,
eager, and with a most ardent welcome. After the necessary formalities,
we were shown to our room. When we were alone our arms were about each
other and our lips met in the first kiss that was a pledge of a great
and beautiful love. She loved the violets and, in our enthusiasm, it was
rather hard to come to earth and make some plans.
She had arranged for a free day. That was an important point gained.
Then, being both very normal beings, we felt that we must have the
breakfast to which we were accustomed. A delicious one was ordered, and
we sat and loved and talked and thought. She wondered.
After the removal of the breakfast dishes, we began to talk of our love.
I tried to make her see that for me it was not a passing fancy and that
I believed it was a serious matter to her. We discussed all phases of
marriage, and I gave her my views, based on my own experience. She, of
course, felt that there could never be a man in her life again. So we
decided that a union such as ours was to be could be made as holy and
complete as the most conventional marriages, if not more so.
I suggested that we read the marriage ceremony together as a sort of
benediction to our union. We had built up a firm foundation for our
lives in the love we held for each other. Our coming together was not
for animal satisfaction. There was a real sympathy of ideas and ideals
and, as a by-product, as it were, was to come the physical relief of sex
desire. As I always carried my prayer book with me, we very solemnly
read the service, and meant every word of it.
It may seem incongruous that I should have carried a prayer book with me
on my journeyings. I had joined the Episcopal Church at the time when I
became engaged to the youth during my college life, as that was his
church. The prayer book was the gift of my dear sister who had passed
on. While I always have had a deep spiritual conception of life and a
deep respect for the teachings of Christ, which doubtless came to me
through my mother’s influence, at the time when my children were lost to
me and I was forced by the conventional sympathizer to believe that this
had been by God’s will, I had little respect for that God. Of course I
interpreted “God’s will” differently than they, but in applying it to my
case I could see no justice shown by a God who could create me with so
strange a nature. In using the words as written in that book, there came
back to me a certain comfort in believing that there was a Force to
bring joy, even if it had had to come through sorrow.
We both believed that I was the only one in the world who desired the
love of a woman. The time for mere conversation was over. I found
willing response to my caresses.
She, too, wanted to show her love, as I had mine. At last I had reached
the heights of physical love.
Poets have written and sung of “that day of love” or “that night of
love” in words and tones which could not express the bliss of it, so why
should I try to do so?
We lingered and loved and rested, and felt there could be no end to the
desires which arose. It was the expression of about twenty-five years of
suppression of emotion in both of us. In a sane moment, we dressed and
took a long drive and had lunch at a favorite restaurant in the Park,
and then returned to our room early in the afternoon. We had to make
plans now for the future.
One thing was certain: that we must live together. If she could make
arrangements to keep on with her work and live away from the hotel where
she was employed, it would be best for me to stay in the city and find
some work other than handling my toy. If I were to go on with that
business, it would involve traveling about and being away from her too
much. So we decided to stay in the city. I knew that I was giving up a
fortune by giving up my business, as I was assured that it was a success
and that there would be no end of the sales I could make myself.
Unfortunately, no one else was ever able to handle it. However, I had
found my mate, and no fortune could keep me from her.
Juno had to go back to her hotel that night, and it tore our hearts
terribly to have to part. I did not see her until the next evening, when
I was waiting with impatience the result of her conference with her
employers. In the meantime, I had spent the day looking for a furnished
apartment where we could make our home, and I had found one which suited
me and which I felt would please her too. The minute I saw her, I knew
that all was well. The dames had consented to a change of plans, as they
knew that otherwise they would lose their most valuable asset to the
success of the house. They arranged for her to have day duty, and all
was well. The next day I saw my friends, who were delighted to have me
re-open my little school, and in a few days we were settled in our own
home and were supremely happy.
The mother of two of the children who were to be in my school tried to
have me go with her and the children, as a companion and teacher, to
Rome for six months and then to Paris for another six months. A year in
Europe! How I would have jumped at it before I met Juno! But now, what
was a year in Europe compared to a lifetime in paradise?
Our days were not spent in longing for each other. We both had real joy
in our work, which was done better than ever before. We read much
together, we saw the best plays, took long walks, and lived on a plane
higher than we realized before to be possible.
Our lives blended to perfection. We seemed to satisfy in each other
every need and craving. The hypocrisy in that hotel for women disgusted
her daily, but nevertheless she put into her work the real Christ
spirit, and many poor and weary hearts were cheered and comforted by
Juno.
As our souls and hearts were drawn together, so were our bodies. We both
felt that, without the deep and true love we felt for each other, there
could be no satisfaction in sexual contact. This was a result of, rather
than a cause for, our love and happiness.
It was our equal desire to be continually doing some great or little
tender and loving thing for the other. Knowing that little rifts might
occur, Juno confessed to a somewhat unruly temper at times and that, if
she should err, it was an impossibility for her to confess her error.
She had always believed that she could never say she was “sorry,” and
had been through the tortures of Hell while obdurate on that point when
her elders had tried to force her to a confession. She asked me, if such
an occasion should arise, when she should be wholly to blame, if I would
assume the role of the guilty one; in that way, she would be able to
contradict me and say it was her fault. It seemed a silly thing, as the
acknowledgment of a fault had always been one of the easiest things I
had to do, but there was nothing I would not have promised her, and this
little eccentricity became in time a great joke.
It was years, however, before we had occasion to resort to that little
game.
I held my little school in our apartment, as I was alone there through
the day. It was a great success and, from the applications I had from
new pupils, it would soon have grown beyond its bounds. I felt, however,
that I could not give it the assurance of permanency, as my life was so
bound up in Juno’s. I felt that I could not do anything that might
interfere with our life and plans together. Another opportunity passed
by because of my great love for the woman of my heart.
Juno felt a growing disgust for her work, which was being conducted on
lines wholly base at the “semi-philanthropic memorial tablet.” So we
were casting about for some more congenial work for her. We kept on
until spring, when there came a crisis in my affairs which caused a
change in our lives.
My father’s sudden illness and death made it necessary for me to go
home, take charge of affairs, and be with my mother, for a time at
least. Before this Juno had arranged for a secretarial position in one
of the most select and fashionable private (and they were private)
finishing schools in the city. (The girls were finished in some
instances also.) This position was to be open in the fall, so this
fitted in perfectly with our plans. A separation was not to be thought
of, so Juno resigned her position, and I had again to disappoint the
parents of the children whom I was teaching. I gave up the school, and
we both went to my mother’s home in the country.
To illustrate the fact that sexual problems arise right under our very
eyes, though many times we never see them, I will here tell of an
incident connected with our life in the little apartment where Juno and
I began our life together.
I procured a young East Side girl, through the recommendation of a
laundress we employed, to come to the apartment each morning to do the
ordinary work. I did most of the cooking when we did not go out for
dinner. Lizzie’s first work was in the kitchen, next to the dining room
where I had my school. She had a wooden leg, so was not able to go into
regular service. She was very happy with us and we got used to the thump
of the wooden member of her anatomy and to the usual noises in the
kitchen, so that our school was not disturbed by them.
One day she came to work in a pouring rain. When she arrived I said,
“You have no rubbers on, your feet must be very wet,” she replied: “Oh!
me wan fut is and tother don’t count.” She evidently thought it would be
a waste of money to buy a pair of rubbers with only one “fut” to benefit
thereby.
One morning it was necessary for a plumber to do some work in the
kitchen during the school session. We got used to the various hammerings
and noises connected with the work, but, after a time, I was conscious
of a regular and rather desultory knocking. Knock! knock! knock! I was
puzzled, and quietly opened the door into the kitchen, out of pure
curiosity, while the children were singing. To my astonishment, I found
Lizzie and the plumber in a compromising situation, the man at the same
time pounding away with his hammer. I gave him a look which he
remembered and quietly told Lizzie to go to the front of the apartment
and do her work there. This she did, skipping along on her unmated pair
of legs.
In the afternoon, I went to the plumber’s place of business. He had just
started on his own and looked scared to death when he saw me. I talked
with him about the affair from the girl’s point of view. He said she was
willing enough, but he soon saw that there might be serious results and
that the girl and her mother would be the ones to suffer. He was quite
ready to place a certain amount of money in my hands, in escrow, as it
were, to await developments. I told him that in case everything came out
all right, I would return the money.
When I was assured that Lizzie was not pregnant, I took the money to the
plumber and had a long talk with him. I told him of my talk with Lizzie
and that she had told me she only did as she had as “it was an easy way
to get fifty cents for her mother.” It seemed to open up a new idea to
him. Whether the impression lasted I shall never know, but at least he
asked me to keep the money he had given me and to use it for the girl in
such a way that she would never know where it came from.
I was convinced that sexual desire on the part of the girl was not
responsible for this incident, but she was willing to sell her body for
fifty cents to gratify the desire of the man, in order to help her
mother who, of course, would never have been convinced that her daughter
would do such a thing. Society still condemns the girl and the man is
considered to be enjoying his so-thought natural and necessary
privileges.
When we were to leave for the country, Lizzie begged so hard to go with
us, and her mother was likewise so anxious to have her go, that we
consented to take her. I felt it would be a good thing for her to be
away from an environment which might lead to her defeat. In her life she
had had one “country week” under the auspices of some society, and had
always carried in her mind the glorified picture of green grass, upon
which she could step without being “chased by the cops,” and of the
flowers which were free for all. We told her that at that season of the
year we should find only ice and snow and mud, with no green grass for
weeks and weeks to come, but this made no difference to her. Go she
must, and go she did.
Poor Lizzie! She could find there no semblance to the wonderful picture
she had carried in her mind for so long. The change from the bright
lights and hurdy-gurdies to a bleak northern New England farm in early
spring was too great for the poor child. She became homesick and almost
desperate with longing for “dear old Av’nyer A” and we had to send her
back. To what? We never knew, as there ended our contact with the
wooden-legged child of the slums.
As there seemed to be no other way, I took the responsibility of running
the farm for the summer. With Juno by my side we made of it a wonderful
adventure. Of course, my duties were strenuous, as I had only the help
of a young boy of fourteen. I loved the work, however. As a small girl I
had followed my father and brothers about as they were doing the work of
the farm, and it all came naturally to me.
The life was a revelation to Juno. She had never been in the country, to
see the beginnings of things agricultural, as she had always spent her
summers at the height of the season at some fashionable resort,
carefully guarded by nurses or companions. Yet she did not long for
“dear old Avenue Five” as Lizzie had for her old haunts.
Juno’s almost childish wonder and enthusiasm and her naive remarks were
a constant joy to both my dear mother and to me. Juno and Mother loved
each other from the very first. To her death, my mother was always happy
in our love and friendship for each other. Never by word, look, or act
did she ever betray in any way that she mistrusted anything unnatural in
the devotion which existed between us. How could she believe that such a
love were possible, when we both believed that we were the only ones in
the world who cherished such a love?
We never wavered in our belief that ours was the very highest type of
human love, and our joy in each other grew greater and greater all the
time. Now, in my declining years I still believe that, while it lasts,
such a relation is the highest and most complete union of two human
beings.
To our friends, ours was “an ideal friendship,” and we knew hardly a
married woman who did not envy us that oneness of heart, mind, and
purpose which we manifested to the outside world. No one knew of the
real union, of our bodies.
CHAPTER XVIII
In the fall, after a most successful season so far as crops went, my
mother decided she could not let me do the hard work of carrying on the
farm in order to give her a home. She felt that it would be better for
me to go to the city, while she would go to California to a brother who
was unable to come to her but who was glad to have her make her home
with his family. So after everything, including the farm and all
belongings, were sold, and my mother had left for the western coast,
Juno and I went back to the city, with a little Cocker spaniel which
Juno had acquired, to start a new home of our own.
This time we took a large studio near the school where Juno was to begin
her new duties. It was interesting to construct a cozy home in what
seemed at first quite a big barn of a place. We went at it slowly and,
as our tastes were alike, we reveled in each new idea.
I took up my brushes again with a strong feeling that perhaps I would
still be able to fulfill at least one of the predictions which had been
made for my future. In order to enhance my income, I was obliged to
commercialize some of my art by making Christmas cards, favors, place
cards, and the like, which did not appeal to me. Designing I loved. But
when I found, upon showing what promised to be a good seller, that I was
obliged to duplicate it perhaps hundreds of times, the work became very
monotonous.
I became a sort of a machine with my hands, while my real joy was in the
thoughts of our great love. The hours we were together, however, were
indeed worth-while. During the “season” I had to work night and day as,
in some way, my designs were always popular and I had to make hay, and
wait for the duller times to do the kind of painting I really loved.
I seemed to be full of the beauties in nature which I had imbibed during
my childhood, during my walks with my father. He would often take me out
to see some wonderful sunset, which would not be of the spectacular kind
to attract attention, of which I once heard some one say, “Oh, it’s just
like a chromo!” She might have added “Ain’t nature grand!” But the
things Father wanted me to see were the atmospheric effects and the dull
blended colors which seemed to have such great depth and allure—some
little glint of color which would but emphasize the duller yet vibrant
backgrounds.
Of course, Juno would always think that each and every one of these
little “tries” were wonderful, but would always look forward to the time
when I might be able to work right before the subject which I was now
able to recall only from memory.
These little oils were a joy to me as, once in a great while, I seemed
to catch one little bit which pleased me. At times my friends would look
at them and whenever they expressed a preference for one, I would give
it to them, feeling happy that anyone could find something to admire in
my crude attempts. Incident to this, I recall a day, years and years
afterwards, when great changes had come in all our lives. I was being
shown a collection of pictures which a brother of Juno’s had made and
hung in his drawing room.
The millionaire, “multied” many times over, had died and left a few
thousands to each of the nieces and nephews. The uncle had had a
marvelous collection of rare canvasses which he willed to the city. The
brother of whom I am speaking was keen to emulate the rich uncle and
began backwards, as it were. Instead of regarding an art collection as
the result of study and adequate riches acquired by hard work, he
thought to use a large part of his inheritance in buying pictures. To me
the drawing room looked very much like the picture sales room in a
department store. There was not a painter’s name familiar to me, and the
pictures had little merit, as far as I could see. I was frightfully
embarrassed, for I felt he was waiting for my applause. I said little,
hoping he would think it was from suppressed emotion that words failed
me. Finally we came to rather a small canvas in a shadow box which
attracted me. Here was my chance! I exclaimed: “Is this a Corot? How
wonderful!” He smiled in a rather peculiar way and said, “That is what
it is called.”
As I turned to him I saw there was a very quizzical expression on his
face and asked him the cause of it. I was afraid I had made some awful
_faux pas_. He said: “Don’t you _really_ know who painted that picture?”
I told him I did not. He then turned on a stronger light and drew me up
to the canvas. Much to my chagrin, there in the corner were my own
initials which I had placed there over thirty years before. When he
liked the thing I was doing I had given it to him in gratitude.
He said that everyone who saw the picture had thought as I did, yet it
was not even an attempt at a copy. If one could be turned to color, I
would say that something in me had always been in perfect harmony with
Corot’s expressions of soul on canvas, as my heart has been in accord
with the strains of harmony of Chopin’s music.
At that moment (remember, it was thirty years after the events of which
I am writing) I felt the artistic personality in me rise up, pointing
with a finger of shame because I had neglected to carry on the art work
in which I believe I had some talent. However, I will now go back to the
studio where, after busy days, each with her own work, Juno would rush
into my longing arms for our night of love and peace.
* * * * *
For some time Juno and I believed it to be wise to receive our men
friends now and then as suitors, in order to blind our unsophisticated
friends to our love for each other, firmly believing it to be unheard-of
before. We believed it to be the highest type of love ourselves,
however, and had nothing to hide from our point of view.
Our love for each other but increased by our contact with men. Never
were we even tempted to have a male in our intimate lives. We were
thoroughly bored when it was necessary for one to accept an engagement
which would separate us for even a few hours.
We finally declined all such invitations, and it was then understood
that while we loved to go to the theater and to concerts we preferred to
go together. So tickets, flowers, candy, and the like were ever
forthcoming for us to enjoy by ourselves. We would go to dinners with
our men friends, but always when there were two escorts.
* * * * *
We grew perhaps rather selfish with our free time, somewhat to the
distress of our families and our old friends. With each other there was
never a selfish act or thought.
One old friend of ours, quite a philosopher, whom we had often visited
at her country home in the summer, watched us very carefully. We dined
with her (she was unmarried and lived alone with only her servants in
attendance) regularly once a week during the winter, as did she with us.
She told us that in the five years she had been in our lives she had
been trying to discover which of us two was the selfish one, and she had
not been able to find an answer.
Having about the same income, we decided at the first to have but one
bank account. When our friends knew this a breakup of our friendship was
predicted. Men especially said it would never work—that money should be
kept out of any friendship just as it should not be allowed to come
between husband and wife. Notwithstanding these warnings, we never had a
clash on that account. Each wanted the other to have the lion’s share.
But there was no lion. We each had what we needed and all was share and
share alike.
In this union my role was the one which was the most natural to me, that
of the male. Not that Juno was ever one to sit down and let me wait on
her hand and foot with never a move to do little things for me, as do
some women I have known. It was in the greater things that I always took
the lead. In our travels about the city and outside, I always bought the
tickets, engaged cabs, let her enter a car or door first, and saw that
she got a seat if possible. Not that these were “great things,” but I
use them as an illustration of my attitude of protection, which was my
very nature.
An incident comes to my mind which may further explain the point. Years
after the studio days, we were returning home together after our work.
It was raining. Juno was suffering from her monthly illness and I was
most anxious to get her home as soon as possible. We lived so far up
town that a cab was impossible, considering our state of finances. We
were obliged to change cars at an intersection where our car had to turn
a corner before it stopped for us. Men who were waiting for the same car
would go and get on before the car turned the corner, while it was still
moving. By the time it got to us it would be filled, with “standing room
only” available. A car was approaching, and I saw an opportunity for a
seat. I told Juno to stand close to me. Then as the car approached I
grabbed the upright bar (it was an open car as it was summer) and stood
back for her to climb on. A man came up behind me and tried to push my
arm away from the hold I had. I turned a bit without relinquishing my
hold and gave the man (well-dressed, with every appearance of a
gentleman) a mighty shove with my shoulder so that he went sprawling in
the mud.
Juno got her seat without knowing what had happened. I went past her and
sat down and in came the muddy man and sat next to me. As he did so I
turned and said, “I’m sorry we have to forget our sex sometimes as you
seem to do.” Quite taking my breath away he politely raised his hat and
said, “Madam, you did exactly right and I apologize for forgetting
myself.”
It was always my desire to make Juno comfortable and happy and to guard
her from anything undesirable. Our friendship was the envy of all of our
friends, both married and single. It was an ideal union of two souls.
The girls in the school all adored Juno and when later I was asked to
take up the duties of chaperone for some hours (oh, yes, these girls
were carefully guarded!) I became very much interested in them as a
class and I had reason to believe that I too was popular with the girls.
A few days after the opening of the new term a dear, new girl from the
Middle West came to Juno in tears and, weeping on her neck, declared she
must go home that very day. She simply could not stay in such a wicked
place. She had been shocked beyond endurance. She told Juno that her
room-mate, a girl in a higher class had, last night after hours, given a
“smoker” in their room, and she was disgraced for life. Juno gave her
what comfort she could and turned her over to the president-owner of the
school, whose duty it was to turn out “finished” girls. The principal
remarked to Juno afterwards that this same child would probably give the
next “smoker” in less than two weeks. Such apt teachers are the girls in
a fashionable “finishing school for girls.” She was right. Little “Mid
West” had been initiated.
Both Juno and I liked this particular girl beyond most of the others. We
made a great exception in her case and let her come to our apartment
once in a while for tea, when we were free. These days for her were
evidently marked with large “red letters.” As she was to come into my
life many years after, this is the reason for introducing her now.
CHAPTER XIX
Being very fond of the theater, we were rather faithful
“first-nighters.” One play opened in which an actress impersonated
several different characters during the performance, making lightning
changes in the wings so rapidly that she would walk out one side of the
stage and appear almost at once from the other side in a complete change
of costume and as an entirely different character. A new stunt in those
days and very clever, we thought. When she appeared as a young man we
were both fascinated. She took the part to perfection and was more than
attractive to us.
We went again and again to see her and finally we decided we would like
to know her. We knew it to be a most irregular thing to do and one which
we had never dreamed of doing before. But both thought it would be
rather fun, so one evening before the play we sent her some flowers and
a note telling her how clever we thought her and that we would very much
like to know her if she would permit us to call after the performance.
We told her where we would be sitting so she would be able to size us up
if she cared to do so.
Of course we were full of curiosity as to how she would receive the
proposal. In her first appearance she wore some of the flowers and with
her wonderful eyes she gave us a look of approval which quite thrilled
us. We noticed another girl in the cast who looked at us very often and
with seemingly great interest. We wondered why. Soon an usher handed us
a note from “Little Ben,” as we will call her, the one who had so
attracted us, asking us to come to her dressing room after the
performance and saying that an usher would be waiting to conduct us to
her. She probably knew we were not accustomed to finding our way “back
stage,” which was the truth. This was to be our first experience.
We were dressed in our well-made tailor suits, as we wore these costumes
always when we went out by ourselves and to business. I had always
preferred to dress in this way, and Juno adopted the same mode after we
were together. So back we went, feeling very important to be shown to
the dressing room of the star! She received us very graciously, assuming
the role of the correct hostess. She was smoking, as was her “best
girl,” to whom she introduced us. It was the one who had been eyeing us
so closely during the play. We joined them in their smokes and chatted
while Little Ben was dressing in her tailor suit very similar to ours.
We liked them both and I imagine we felt very doggish when we drove away
with them in their four-wheeler.
Taxis were unheard of then. We asked them to go with us to supper, but
L. B. insisted that we sup with her in their suite, as she was too tired
to go out. Besides, she hated restaurants. This we afterwards
appreciated better than we did then, as I will explain later.
We were very careful not to betray by word or glance that our
relationship was more than that of good friends. We were rather
conscious of the fact that this was the first time we had ever met
anyone without the conventional introduction. We both wondered after
leaving them if they possibly cared for each other as we did, but
clinging to the belief that we were the only exponents of such an
attachment, we put the thought out of our minds as ridiculous.
Little Ben certainly played the part of the perfect lady on that night
and on many occasions afterwards when we were together. At her rooms we
often met other actors and their wives, as well as unmarried ones of
both sexes. Everything was very interesting and jolly without any
undesirable occurrence.
After a few weeks, her engagement ended and their next stop was at San
Francisco across the continent. Of course we saw them off at the Grand
Central and had their stateroom filled with flowers and candy. At the
train L. B. introduced us to a very tearful young lady whom we had never
seen before. The tearful one seemed heartbroken at the thought of
parting with L. B., who took us aside and asked us to be kind to the
child and try to keep her with us for that night at least. She gave us
no clue as to why she should ask this of us, and we were still puzzled
to know just what to do when the train left. The weepy friend, whom we
will call Smith, had collected herself to the extent of telling us she
was obliged to go to Brooklyn to see a friend for a few minutes, and she
asked us if we would please go with her. That seemed easy—as easy as a
trip to Brooklyn could ever be!
Upon arriving we were presented to a most astonishing personality—a
little woman with short, black hair tinged with gray, wearing heavy
white silk pajamas, smoking, and very hospitable. She had the most
charming manners and beautiful but very piercing hazel eyes. She looked
us through, and I knew at once that she too knew! I was impelled at
first to seize my Juno and run, for I did not want to think that there
was anyone else in the world who knew of love such as ours. Of course, I
did no such foolish thing, and in a way I was held by a certain
fascination which I could not analyse.
In one way we, both Juno and I, were glad of that night, for we stayed
all night, which was nearly all given up to listening. We learned a
great deal. I will call our hostess “Phil,” short for Philosopher. We
dined, of course, and all smoked, and Phil did most of the talking. She
talked freely about herself. Early in the evening we learned from her
lips that she was a bastard and that she had had many love affairs with
women. She was well educated and spoke beautiful English with a British
accent. We afterward knew that her father was a British nobleman, but
she never divulged his name to anyone. He made her an allowance, and she
visited him at intervals during his life. Her mother was an Italian for
whom she had no love. She was a great student of philosophy, ever
seeking, as she said, the Truth. At this time she was a Theosophist and
a near friend of Madam Blavatsky.
We were fascinated by her as something unique in our lives. When we left
the next day, Smith was quite herself again, as the Philosopher had
argued her out of her mood. It seemed she had been the favored one with
Little Ben for a number of years. Phil warned us against any further
contact with Little Ben, as she was a very notorious character in all
large cities and to be seen with her would condemn us at once. We always
felt it was mighty fine of Little Ben, realizing as she must have done,
and as did Phil, that we did not really belong in that class, to have
protected us thus.
Phil did interest us more and more. We saw her frequently and we became
warm friends. Her life had been spent largely in Europe, and her loves
had all been women of great beauty and famous in the world of letters
and on the stage. We had ample proof of the marvelous stories she told
us, as there were many letters and autographed photographs which she
showed us.
At last, and too late, did I find that I was not a creature apart as I
had always felt. How much suffering would have been saved me and what a
different life I would have led if I had known earlier that we are not
all created after one pattern nor according to any set rules, but that
each is as “normal” as any other!
In spite of all we learned at the feet of the Wise One, neither Juno nor
I could reconcile ourselves to the thought that we were of that class
who seemed to have little constancy. We knew we were not promiscuous as
were Little Ben and Phil, who was much older than we and said she was
through with love forever. We could not speak of our love. It was too
sacred to us. We also knew that we had not entered that group because of
any thought that they were of a class apart, but in the irregular way
which I have described because of curiosity about an actress who acted
the male so perfectly. We were not sexually attracted by her or by any
whom we met by knowing her. We were sufficient unto ourselves, though we
both thirsted for knowledge on the subject.
None of our other friends or family were ever introduced to any of this
group. We were as children whose curiosity had been aroused, and we were
also anxious to learn as much as possible of a love which was, and to me
ever will be, of a beautiful type but which has carried a stigma in the
minds of many who have never understood it in its perfection.
What wonder that I, who had experienced what I have related, had not
much respect for the accepted form of marriage! There certainly was not
much of sanctity in the marriages that came under my notice, and I have
not changed my mind in the least from all I have since known. I do not
say that there are no true unions in marriage, but with marriage as an
institution today, I think many will agree with me, there is certainly
something wrong. But as to Juno and me, I shall always feel that as long
as our lives together lasted (Oh, yes, there came a break, but our union
lasted much longer than most marriages do nowadays, notwithstanding), it
was the purest and most ideal of any type of union known.
There was not a human impulse in my nature that Juno did not meet. She
represented the highest type of any kin. She was my child, my sister, my
sweetheart, my wife, my pal, my friend, each distinct in its character.
She completely filled my life with joy as long as I was able to hold
that love.
The one time that we were forced to make a trip with Phil, we were
convinced that in some way she was a marked woman. An epithet was hurled
at her which made the cold shivers run down our backs. While she was the
only one addressed, we felt utterly degraded, and she was so angry we
feared there might be murder then and there. We understood her aversion
to going on the street. Yet there was nothing coarse about her
appearance. Her hands were beautiful, and her features showed her to
have been well born.
What a brilliant mind was there, powerless to be used for the benefit of
mankind because of the conventions of society which made it impossible
for her to find a place in the world! A convent as a child, where all
her natural propensities were developed to the full. Then as a young
woman, life in the European capitals, where she had entree to the best
circles. Later to New York, where she was so shamefully treated.
CHAPTER XX
Juno and I always felt out of place among the people who were
“different,” we felt so secure in our love for each other and so out of
their class; yet we kept in touch with them in a degree ever curious.
While we were with Phil one day there came to see her a youth about
twenty years old—handsome with a wonderful complexion, well-groomed,
clever in music and an actor of sorts, though not a star. I noticed that
Phil was watching Juno and me very quizzically, apparently for some
reaction on our part. He sang and played for us and was very charming.
After he had gone, Phil asked us how we liked him. We said we found him
very attractive and talented. Upon further questioning we acknowledged
that we had seen nothing strange about him.
She smiled and then proceeded to enlighten us on another phase of the
great problem of sex. She said he was the perfect type of invert. She
went on to explain the meaning of this term which we did not know. We
were aghast! While we had been astonished to learn that there were other
women who cared for each other, the surprise was even greater to
discover that there existed a like propensity in men.
It seemed no less than a crime that we, grown women, should not have
known these things. Other women, mothers of boys, there must have been
thousands, did not know of conditions like that, we had all been “so
carefully brought up!” Imagine sending our young boys to the great
cities so ignorant of the menace of the male solicitor on the streets,
even though they may have been warned about the women who might approach
them!
Just at that time it was considered very smart to go slumming in New
York. Of course we wanted to see everything and do as the rest of the
people were doing, so we went slumming too.
With two men friends who knew the ropes, and one other woman we put in
one night of frightful experiences. We knew many of our married and
unmarried friends who were anxious to go again and again, but that one
night was all we ever wanted of slumming. The ugliness of the displays
we saw as we hurried from one horrid but famous resort to another in and
about the Bowery has no place here; for many years I have tried to
forget the sights I saw that night, so that I dislike even to try to
recall them. However, as a matter of education I am glad I went that one
time. In the study of types, it was a good school. Seeing hundreds of
male inverts, for instance, gathered together in a group made it easy to
recognize them on any occasion where we might meet or see them, and so
avoid any contact.
Juno and I had had enough of that class of humans. For many years we
kept to ourselves and let them all drift out of our lives. We had had
our education along those lines and that was what we were after. Phil
did come into my life many years later, as I shall relate in time.
Our lives were on a much higher plane than those of the real inverts.
While we did indulge in our sexual intercourse, that was never the
thought uppermost in our minds. That was but an outlet for emotions
which too long had been pent up in both our lives for the good of our
health. We found ourselves far more fit for good work after having been
thus relieved. But we had seen evidences of overindulgence on the part
of some of those with whom we came in contact, in loss of vitality and
weakened health, ending in consumption.
The “finishing school” where Juno was engaged had to be closed some time
later on account of the physical breakdown of the owner, and Juno took
up secretarial work with a philanthropist. A year later I too accepted a
position with the same lady, taking charge of another branch of the
great work she was doing for the benefit of mankind.
Side by side we worked for over five years, having our own little
apartment always near to our place of business. Our employer had three
summer residences, and we were obliged to go to nearby boarding places
during the summer. At one of these family boarding houses we met a very
interesting young woman a little younger than we, and we three became
very good friends. This girl, whom we will call Mollie, showed a marked
preference for Juno, which rather amused us; but there seemed no danger,
as Juno was very frank about it. However, as Juno and I talked it over
we thought out of consideration for Mollie, who might become too fond of
Juno, it would be better to drop the intimacy quietly when we took our
departure for the city at the close of the season, and so we did.
One day ... Yes, there came a day ... I am telling it all ... several
months later, Juno had some business for our lady philanthropist (whom I
will refer to as L. P. hereafter) which took her to the town where
Mollie lived. No mention was made of Mollie, as Juno was not to go
anywhere near the little hotel. It never entered my mind that she might
think of doing so. She did not go that morning to the office which was
in the home of L. P., but went directly to the train with the hour all
arranged on which she would return.
Imagine my terror when I found in my desk that morning a note from Juno
telling me she had betrayed my confidence and had probably forfeited my
love because she had been seeing Mollie all winter now and then, had
kept up a correspondence with her, and was to be with her a part of that
day. She said she would return to the city on the train agreed on; if I
felt that I could forgive her, I was to meet her, but if I were not
there she would know that I was not able to do so and she would go out
of my life. She vowed that she loved me as she never could anyone else
in the world and regretted deeply that she had so deceived me.
I was nearly out of my mind. I could not stay in the office. I told L.
P. that I had received some very bad news and asked for a leave for the
day, which she gladly granted. After leaving plenty of work for my
stenographer to do, I left. Where I went I never could remember. I
walked and walked and when I was so tired I could walk no more, I took a
hansom and drove and drove, much to the consternation, yet at the same
time benefit, of the man on the box.
I made many efforts to reach Juno by telephone but to no avail. Finally,
after what seemed to me a thousand years, I bought a big bunch of
violets and went to the station, hours before the train was due, and
there I waited and waited. At last she came, looking very pale and
worried. I took her in my arms and we went home happy.
A strange thing is love!
I had suffered the tortures of hell from my first attack of jealousy, a
sensation until then unknown to me. But alas! it was not to be my last!
I realized later that at that time I should have ended our lives
together. But I was not strong enough to do it.
I thought there could be no greater suffering than I had endured that
day, so I took her back to my heart, thinking that time would heal that
deep hurt. Again she promised positively that she would have nothing
more to do with Mollie, and I believed her.
When summer came again, there seemed to be no other way than to plan to
go back to the same family hotel where Mollie lived with her family. I
rather questioned the advisability of this, but Juno accused me of still
being jealous and not trusting her. She vowed that she never could be
jealous of me, no matter what happened, and so we went there.
It was fortunate in a way that we did so. I saw how things were going
and was very unhappy and sad. I said but little, and again I was told
that she could not understand my being jealous and that hers was the
greater love because she could not feel the way I did under the same
circumstances.
All these details of the reactions of our love may seem irrelevant, but
it is my wish here to show the great and beautiful aspects of a love
such as ours, and then to show the other side, the depths to which it
was leading. I am trying to show that in all attachments of the heart
and body there are two distinct sides and that there must be a
distinction between Lust and Love.
As long as Love, embracing companionship, sympathy, compatibility, and
understanding, is the greater urge in the union, all is well and to me
the ideal, but when Lust has the greater hold there is bound to be a
shipwreck.
After Juno had made the assertion that she could not be jealous, I
(cat-like) descended to the lower plane and decided to give her some of
her own medicine. I deliberately went to work to win Mollie’s love, and
I did win it. I was quite a past master in the art, though the boast is
unworthy. Mollie was a hungry child starving for emotional relief
(which, by the way, I never gave her), and I knew it. Poor Juno! She
almost went out of her mind and begged for mercy as she acknowledged
that she was being torn with the most dreaded of all diseases, jealousy.
This was all pretty hard on poor Mollie, as she was madly in love with
me at this time. But I wanted, selfishly, to give a dose large enough to
let Juno see how she had made me suffer.
About this time a rich relative had given Juno an annuity, so it was not
necessary for her to keep on with her work. She would not give it up,
however, unless I would do so too. I did not feel that I could give up a
good position which would last me as long as I liked, for by so doing I
would not be able to keep up my share of the expenses. So we went on for
a while and I kept up my friendship with Mollie, not seeing her very
often, however.
I have wondered since if Juno’s suffering may not have been because of
Mollie’s transferring her affections to me rather than because of my
seeming interest in her. Be that as it may, Juno was very anxious to get
away from the city and at last I consented to give up my work and go
with her somewhere. I had saved quite a good little nest egg in case of
emergency, and as Juno’s allowance was sufficiently large enough for us
to live on if we went to the country, we did so. Juno promised that she
would always share with me her income, which would probably increase
with the death of her relative. She asked me to give up my friendship
with Mollie. Unfair to the girl as it was, I did so.
Our employer was aghast when we told her that we had decided to give up
our work. We gave her a month’s time in which to fill our positions. She
was so angry to find that we would not reconsider our decision to leave
her that I regret to say that she rather fell from the pedestal upon
which we had always placed her. In that month she gave us about six
months’ work, and we were physically unable to accomplish all that she
required. The parting was a great relief at the end.
My mother had passed away, and I had no longer any financial
responsibilities for family. So being assured that Juno would be able to
supply my needs if any should occur, we went to the country.
A young married couple, friends of ours in New York, had gone to a
little village in Connecticut near the Berkshires and urged us to come
there, which we did. We soon found a place about two miles out of town
on a hill from which we got a most beautiful view. There we made our
home. The farmhouse was old-fashioned and spacious. With our artistic
furnishings we made it very attractive.
We took with us a girl from the home for “fallen girls” of which I have
spoken. She brought her baby with her. This girl was as pretty as a
picture, with curly reddish hair, clear skin and ever a smile on her
lips. She loved her baby with a mad passion, as she also loved her work.
She was very happy with us and so glad to be free from the restrictions
of the home. I don’t think I ever saw so sexual a nature. A man
appearing on the place roused her to the depths, but she never gave way
to any impulse while with us. She fought a good fight.
Juno and I took most of the care of the baby and loved it. We took up
our life on the farm with joy and enthusiasm and felt we were really
re-united. Mollie was entirely out of our lives. Our home was the center
of some importance, socially. We found some very congenial friends.
Bridge was in its infancy, and we played nearly every day between tea at
four o’clock and dinner at seven.
We determined that we would live our lives in the way which best suited
us, and others could accept or not, as suited them. We always had wine
with our dinner and a cocktail before dinner if we were so inclined. We
both smoked openly, and our young friends were worried for fear the
“natives” would be shocked beyond belief.
We went to church with these friends, who were ardent worshipers. Make a
note of this, as later it may cause a smile.
The next step was to invite the clergyman and his wife to dine. The
dinner was rather formal. Lizzie was an excellent cook and a perfect
waitress and nothing pleased her more than to have company. Wine was
served as usual and apparently enjoyed by both of our guests, but
especially so by the clergyman. He was an Episcopalian, rather inclined
to “High Church.”
When coffee was served in the parlor, cigarettes were also on hand and
cigars for the Domine, which he enjoyed. As the lady politely declined
the cigarettes, we asked her to excuse our smoking as it had long been
our custom to do so. That was long, long ago, when few women smoked. She
was very gracious in her acceptance of our habit and all went very
easily and naturally.
The invitation was shortly forthcoming in return of this occasion, and
we were “accepted.” We were asked to join all the activities of the
church, which did not appeal to us especially; but we were playing the
game, so we were launched, much to the surprise of our young friends who
were so afraid that the town would not stand for the smoking.
It was my way to lay the cards right on the table. If there were any who
objected, that was their privilege. I had the greatest contempt for
women who would smoke on the sly but publicly vow they never did such a
thing, and I knew lots of them.
Of course, the world was not then able to hear the truth about Juno’s
and my love for each other. About that we made no attempt to enlighten
them. We were just dear friends. There were two other “dear friends” who
came from the city for the summers and lived quite near us. We knew, and
they knew, but even so we never discussed. They were of the higher type,
as I felt we were.
Often someone would say, “You seem more like a man than a woman,” and I
have always explained that I was brought up with a lot of boys and that
their ways had made an unerasable stamp upon my character. That
explanation seemed to satisfy them.
We were very happy once more in our united lives and love. I often
yielded to the impulse to turn again to my brushes. I did a number of
little sketches which I hope may now be giving someone a little
pleasure. I have forgotten them all, as I did the “Corot” I did for
Juno’s brother.
I had a natural love for the soil and did the farming with the same
enthusiasm. We had a fifteen year old boy to do chores, as we had a
horse and a cow. Also two pigs.
Juno took charge of things in the house, a task which never appealed to
me in the least, while I was out of doors nearly all day until about
four o’clock, when we had our games of bridge and tea. I had a wonderful
garden, both of flowers and vegetables. There was also a shop where I
had a complete set of cabinet tools and a bench to match. I loved doing
things with my hands and was quite expert in handling carpenter’s tools.
I made little odd pieces of furniture, tables, shelves and the like, and
did much repairing about the house and barn. My tools were of the best
and I took great pride in keeping them with a razor edge.
CHAPTER XXI
Our summers spent on the farm were ideal. Our friends and relatives came
often to visit us, much at times to the depletion of our bank account,
but we could not refuse them as they enjoyed us and the farm so
thoroughly. We were sufficient unto ourselves, however, and were never
so happy as when alone, but we were both unselfish and were glad to give
pleasure to others.
We had one amusing problem to meet during the first few weeks that
nearly proved the downfall of our life in the country.
The near neighbors were the ordinary, good-hearted Connecticut farmers
whose lives had been very restricted. The old man was a “leetle deef.”
He had for many years listened patiently to a wife whose voice had grown
sharp and shrill, added to the proverbial Yankee twang, commensurate
with his increasing deafness.
We were obliged to go to this man for help and advice in matters
agricultural. He was glad for the extra money which this work brought
him. The wife probably classed us with a professor from Yale University
who once stopped with them for two days in order to study either some
flowers or rocks in that area. When she told us about him she added:
“But say! Him a college professor? And him the ignorantest man I ever
see!”
This dame took it upon herself to visit us each and every evening after
our dinner. She had “washed up the supper dishes,” put on a clean apron,
and came over to our house to talk! If she thought us ignorant she
certainly used an unlimited amount of lung power to educate us! For
hours she would just talk, and talk, and talk, in that unbearable voice
and never by any chance did she ever say one thing. At first it rather
amused us, as she was a real Mary Wilkins character, but it went beyond
endurance and we were terribly bored and almost distracted.
After one extra long session when she had gone home, Juno burst into
tears. Her nerves had given way completely. “Is this what we’ve got to
face by living in the country?” she sobbed. I tried to quiet her and
said I would put a stop to it at once. I was always the one to handle
anything disagreeable which came up in our lives.
The next day I told the garrulous neighbor that we had come into the
country to rest and to do a lot of reading and I would have to ask her
to visit us only when we should find that her visits would not interfere
with our plans, and then I would ask her to come. She was quite shocked,
I think, that we did not feel that her conversation was a liberal
education, but she seemed quite content with an occasional chat (she
doing the chat) over the garden fence in the future.
Then did our glorious hours together begin. We re-read much of Thackeray
aloud and lots of other worth-while things. We took an occasional run
down to the city for a good play, music, or the opera, and incidentally
to see Juno’s brothers and sister.
After two or three years on the farm Juno began to find the winters a
bit tiresome, as we were many times snowed in and our friends did not
care to come at that season. So we pulled up stakes and moved to the
village in a dear little cottage near the young couple who were
instrumental in having us go to that place.
At that time, too, Lizzie and the baby had to go to take care of her
father, who was ill. We felt it would be lonely without the baby, of
whom we had grown very fond. So it seemed just the time to make a
change.
Everyone in town, especially in the Episcopal Church, was excited at
that time about the opening of a church school for boys, to be in charge
of a very popular and beloved young divine.
We joined in all the activities relative to the opening. This was to be
a semi-charitable school, catering mainly to the sons of clergymen who
were too poor to send their boys to the higher schools.
All set! The school opened and we were all on hand to welcome and
entertain the new masters when they arrived. One of these men, the
teacher of French, was the most popular. He seemed to choose our house
as his refuge and us as his friends above all others. This was rather
disconcerting to our young married friend—the one who asked us to come
up there. She had a perfectly good husband, yet she made a dead set for
the head master. Not the young divine who was establishing the school—he
belonged to some church brotherhood and had renounced the world, the
flesh, and the devil. He wore, by the way a most fascinating pure white
flannel and silk robe when he appeared in public, and black at the
school.
The young French master, whom we will call Jack, proved a very
interesting pal. He was bright and entertaining, played the piano well,
liked the same books that we did, played bridge, and adored afternoon
tea. He was much younger than we—in fact, twelve years younger than
Juno, who was two years younger than I.
This friendship grew more and more intimate. Jack dined with us at least
three times a week. In fact, he was with us all of his free time. One
day he became very confidential and told us that he had a lover in New
York and that it was to _him_ he went every other week! So he, too, was
of the condemned type. Poor fellow! Well, we could not blame him for
that. Although we made no confessions ourselves, we felt that he knew
and understood our relations with each other.
Nothing occurred to mar our happiness, and we went on for a year or two
in this way. New Year’s Eve had always meant much to Juno and me. We
pledged our troth anew each time the clock struck the beginning of a new
and glorious year. I believe it was in the second or third year of the
school that Jack had gone to his home for the holidays. We gave a New
Year’s party and had a lot of the young people at our home to see the
old year out. On this evening, as we raised our glasses for the usual
toast, Juno added, “And to the absent one.” I thought I discovered a new
light in her eyes. As I went to give her our kiss of love I said, “Is
there someone else in your mind?” Her answer was in a way evasive.
However, the pledge was renewed and nothing more was said.
In a few days Jack came back. I was quite ill with a severe attack of
acute bronchitis and was in bed. While Jack was there one day Juno came
into my room, and without a word of warning, told me that she and Jack
were engaged to be married!
How hard I have tried these years and years to forget the terror those
words brought into my heart and soul! I was weak from my illness and had
no control or sense with which to meet this blow.
I was very hoarse from my bronchitis, and the strain I gave my voice in
my entreaties and arguments for her to consider how she was throwing her
life and our happiness away, as it seemed to me, has had its effect on
my throat ever since.
Whether I would have done the sensible thing at this time had I been
well physically or not, I do not know. My life was crushed! My wonderful
girl had broken her vows to me again! She changed all at once from the
dearest nurse and most considerate friend, at times when I would be laid
low for some illness, to the most cruel of women.
The strain to which I was subjected counteracted all the ministrations
of the doctor in his efforts to get me well. Juno utterly disregarded
his instructions as to my being kept quiet, and I nearly went insane.
When I got hold of myself in spite of the terrible handicap of this
courtship going on under my very eyes, I wrote to Phil, who was then in
England, and asked advice to make me more reasonable. The incongruity of
the match was, I believe, my greatest grief. The male invert is known to
be of a much weaker caliber than the so-called normal, and all who knew
this fellow, without knowing just where he belonged in the catalogue of
humans, dubbed him a “sissy,” but very attractive as a little girl
friend.
One and all who were in our set were thoroughly disgusted with them
both, but more so with my glorious girl, who was twelve years older than
he. In height he did not come to her shoulder.
It was all an awful nightmare, but on I struggled until at last the
answer came from the Philosopher. She asked me to join her and a friend
who had taken a cottage in the south of England for a year. We could
divide the expenses by three and live very cheaply. This was long before
the war. She said it would be the best thing in the world for me to get
right away from it all and the only way to be cured.
I was wild to start right away, and Juno was glad to help me finance the
trip. Most of my capital had been used in entertaining her family,
chiefly because we were never able to keep expenses down and still keep
open house.
Juno seemed heartbroken at the parting and swore that her love for me
was just the same, but this did not register with me. I set sail. When I
went on board, I thought the chances were as great that I might jump
overboard as that I would land in England.
Courage failed me when I saw the big ocean with no land in sight, so I
held on to life. I grew interested in the things so new to me on the
voyage and was better of my cough when I landed. Phil met me at Tilbury
and after a day and night in London we went down to Hampshire, where her
friend was waiting.
The coming together of this old, old friend and of Phil would make a
romance worth reading, but it does not concern this tale in that detail.
The friend was an artist of note well known on both continents and a
most charming and cultivated woman. She was on a rest year and having a
year of love with Phil. Her idea of curing broken hearts was with
alcohol. I was suffering keenly all the time, and Phil realized how I
had cared for Juno and did still. I had for many years enjoyed a
cocktail before dinner and wine with the meal, but for drink as drink I
did not care at all.
The friend evidently did, and with my sorrow as an excuse she insisted
on beginning early in the day imbibing absinthe or gin. The former was a
new drink to me and while I did not care at first for the taste, the
effect seemed to be what was desired, so I held my own with her. I
simply did not care what happened to make me forget even for a moment at
a time.
I could see that Phil was not at all happy in this procedure, but the
friend dominated us both. Phil, however, kept her head clear, as she
never touched a drop of anything in the way of alcohol. Tea was her
passion. She wanted to talk with me and to reason me out of my grief,
but the friend was ever on the alert that such a thing must not happen.
She tried hard to interest me in herself, but I did not fall.
We were in a lovely spot, and the spring flowers were filling the copse
where our cottage was located. What is more beautiful than spring in
England! But these beauties gave me only momentary thrills, as I could
not seem to rise above my grief. Besides, the physical effect of so much
alcohol was showing upon my health and even depressed me more.
Letters from Juno, so full of love that I could have no faith in, added
to my suffering. Even when she told me that she and Jack had decided
that it was physical contact they desired, that they found themselves
happy in that relationship and that they had given up the thought of
marrying, I was not in the least consoled. In fact, I was more disgusted
than ever. As the rich relative had said that his contribution would
cease when Juno was married, I knew that the desire to marry her would
not be long-lived, as I had seen Jack’s face pale when that news came
before I left.
About June I realized that my life with the two who were trying to cure
me was fast sending me to a breakdown. So I decided to move on and see
how I could manage things myself.
When established near Bournemouth I went to work with my pen, as my
finances were getting low. I was relieved when a cabled check for
several hundred dollars arrived from New York from a magazine to which I
had submitted an article.
Directly following this came a letter from Juno saying that she and Jack
had decided they were not fond enough to continue their life together
and that she found that she could not bear life alone and wanted to come
to me, but that she had no funds.
I made it possible for her to come, fool that I was, all will say and so
say I now, but never was a lover so happy in the thought that again I
would have her as of old, my companion, friend, baby, and lover. She had
ample funds to clear up all her obligations, renew her wardrobe a
little, and have her passage and a substantial sum left when she
arrived.
I found an adorable furnished stone cottage a short distance from
Bournemouth. The lovely garden had a high stone wall all around it. I
rearranged things to make it look like “us.” All sorrow was wiped away,
and my heart was beating with renewed faith.
I went to Southampton to meet Juno. It was necessary for us to spend the
night before going to our little home. I arranged beautiful flowers in
the room at the hotel where I had engaged a suite and went to the pier
hours before the scheduled time for the arrival of the steamer.
My plan was to stay in the dear little stone cottage long enough for us
to see all in that locality and to let funds accumulate, as I had other
articles to be written, and then to move on to other parts of England
and the Continent, staying long enough in each place to absorb its real
atmosphere. At that time this could be done very reasonably and would be
quite within our means.
At last the boat was sighted and I went down the wharf to meet my dear
one and clasp her to my heart of hearts. I felt no sexual emotion. It
was not her body for which I longed, but my other self, my true mate.
Then I saw her only about ten feet away from my arms yet two far for me
to jump. We must wait for the slow boat to reach the allotted place. She
was one of the first to step on land and to me. The joy of that first
real kiss since before Jack had come into our lives lingers with me yet
as one of the high spots in my memory!
Before we had got half way up the pier she turned to me and said, “Jack
and I are engaged again.”
Even now I can feel the physical pain in my heart as I heard those
words! My first wild impulse was to jump into the bay, but I had sense
enough to know that I would be fished out, so I said not a word. All
seemed to go black, yet I was able to attend to all the details of the
customs for her, and we went in silence to the hotel where the flowers
stood as a mockery of our love. She tried to assume some pretense of joy
at being with me and in the flowers, but I had nothing to say. I spent a
sad and wakeful night. She said she and Jack had spent all the money she
had left of what she had received through my ministrations and that she
had not a cent. I could not turn her loose, so we took our train for the
stone cottage, I with a battered heart,—and she? How could she be happy?
Yet so she seemed. Nothing appealed to her in the place I had prepared
for her coming. Her whole thought was to get to France where she could
be learning to speak French, as Jack was a French teacher, having been
educated at Grenoble. She insisted that I must go with her, as she would
be utterly at a loss in trying to find her way alone. I had always taken
all responsibility in our business affairs and I knew she really needed
me if she were to go on her way.
I was outraged by her bringing to me again what I had gone so far away
from, yet the mother heart could not refuse her.
There was no joy in physical contact with her. Even her forced kisses
nearly choked me. Companionship was gone, as all her thoughts were on
the future with that poor fellow who had come under her spell. There was
only that need of protection which led me on. A paid courier would have
done as well and would have been better for me, but funds would not
permit of that luxury. I did try to have her go back to America and
leave me in peace, but this she refused to do, as Jack was coming over
the next summer and they were to be married.
There we were, and I tried so hard to play the game until I could get
away. No need to go through the painful days, weeks and months, first a
short time in London, then on to Brussels to study French, and finally
to Paris! To what?
At times I was reasonable and did all I could to ease the way, but there
were days of rebellion when we had very trying scenes.
The disappointment of having to see all the wonders of that, to me, new
world through tears seemed more than I could bear. I could not go home,
as she had rented our house for a year. So on I stayed and tried my best
to get something out of it all.
In all these intervening years I have been able to eliminate the sorrow
and to think of and speak about things as giving me joy in my two years
in Europe. But in this rehearsal I find my indignation at myself and
with her rising again almost to the breaking point.
CHAPTER XXII
As soon as we were established in Paris I began to look about for some
position whereby I could add to my funds and occupy my mind. I tried to
make myself feel that it was joy to be near Juno and see that she was
safe.
The position which was open for me was in connection with a religious
organization about which I could write an eye-opener of an article, but
that for another time. A young Scotch girl was giving up the work to be
married. She stayed on for a few weeks to show me the methods. We were
constantly together through the day and were naturally interested in
each other. Scotty, as we will call her, confided in me about her coming
marriage. She had become engaged in pique, because the man whom she
really loved had not proposed to her, though she felt sure he loved her.
I felt sorry for her, as she was going into a state where there was
little chance of happiness. After talking things over freely with me she
decided that it would be fairer to the young man if she broke with him
then than after the marriage, so break it off she did. She had become
very fond of me, but while she was a dear girl I knew that I could not
care for her as she seemed to care for me. Still, I was glad in a way to
have someone for an interested and I will say interesting friend when
Juno should be married, as she expected to be the next summer.
Of course Juno and I roomed together, but we had two beds and there was
never any approach to sexual relations.
I sensed that things were not going quite to Juno’s mind in her love
affairs, but she never confided any of her worries to me. In the
meantime, Scotty was with me more and more and we had little excursions
together. I felt that Juno was absorbed with Jack and was quite out of
any reckoning with my doings. Christmas came and went, and then Juno did
express chagrin at not receiving a gift of some sort from Jack, as she
had taken great care that he should receive her token of affection on
time. She waited until she was convinced that he had ignored her at
Christmas, and then calmly announced to me that she had broken off her
engagement and wanted my love back again.
I told Juno that Scotty had decided not to marry and that, as she had
taken up other work in Paris, she and I had decided to live together
after Juno was married. I simply would not give her up and did not. My
faith in Juno was gone, though in spite of that fact there was no one
who could ever take her place in my heart. Juno was very unhappy and
suffered with jealousy and all the agony which that state of mind calls
forth.
Scotty had invited me to go to her home in Scotland with her for our
summer vacation and I had planned to do so, as I did not care to be in
Paris when Jack should arrive. When we found that there was to be no
wedding, Scotty invited Juno to go to Scotland with us, and she expected
to do so. She thought to get even with me in gaining a friend. There was
a little Irish girl who came often to the rest rooms where I was engaged
and of whom I had often spoken as being one of my pets. Juno was
attracted by her and set about to win her love.
We had about us at that time quite a colony of English, Scotch, and
Irish girls who were in Paris earning their living, as it was considered
quite a disgrace for them to go into any sort of work at home. “It
wasn’t done.” Oh! the chapter or the book I could write of the
experiences of these carefully brought up girls in Gay Paree which they
confided to me! But that is another story.
It seemed strange to see Juno in the role of the wooer, but she
succeeded in capturing “Irish,” as we will call the young girl who fell
for her charms. Had that been a friendship such as was that between
Scotty and me, I would not have been affected by it, but I was soon
convinced that they were indulging in the closer type of intimacy and I
in turn was very unhappy.
All of this seems ridiculous and weak to me now, but as I am trying to
give a true description of our sexual love, it has to be gone over.
When at its best, as was ours for so many years, I still believe the
love between two women to be the highest type now known. At the same
time, I believe that it may lead to the most intense suffering known to
woman.
As we were about to go to Scotland, Juno announced that she preferred
staying in Paris until Irish had her vacation and went home (where, by
the way, Juno was not invited to visit). Then Juno would join me
somewhere in England, on a promised visit with some old New York friends
who were living outside of London.
I met Juno at the appointed time in Dieppe. While we enjoyed in a way
some of the attractions of that place, the time ended in a violent
quarrel and we decided to part company, she going back to Paris and I to
our friends in London, to wait until Scotty should join me for our
return to Paris.
I had a wonderful visit with Scotty at her delightful home, and as her
father and two brothers each had cars, we toured much of that glorious
country. We were feted by all their friends and relations, and played
golf every day. It was my first experience with that game, but as I had
always been so fond of any outdoor sports, I took to golf naturally and
loved it.
I knew that Scotty was still in love with the one who was so slow in
proposing. I talked with her a great deal on the subject and showed her
the fallacy of the awful reserve she had been taught to hold for men.
When it was time for me to go to meet Juno, Scotty went to visit the
sister of the man, and when she wrote that they were engaged I felt that
my friendship with her had not been in vain. She was to go back to Paris
for another year, however.
I made my visit to my friends, who were rather of the type of the artist
who was with Phil during my first months, and I was not very happy. I
was glad for the time to come for me to meet Scotty and go back to
Paris, where I had determined not even to see Juno.
Scotty and I had our apartment together, and Juno and Irish were
together. There were constant appeals for me to let Juno come to see me,
but I positively refused. At last Irish came and begged me to go to
Juno, as she was really very ill about my being away. Again my mother
heart got the better of me and I went.
Because of her entreaties together with those of Irish, who said she
could never fill my place, and because Scotty also urged me to go back
to her, I did consent to take an apartment again with Juno. But why go
into the agony of the days which followed? I knew that Juno was
deceiving me in her relations with Irish and I was again thrown into the
agonies of jealousy. I had no wish to resume any physical relations with
Juno myself, but I could not bear the thought that some other woman was
taking that sacred place.
Realizing the futility of trying to patch up the severed love, I finally
decided again to put the ocean between us and to come home to our little
love cottage, which was vacant at this time. Juno left everything as to
our house to me, as she said she would never go back there to live.
When I arrived in New York there were many friends to see and, among
others, were Flo and the Professor, who were established in Brooklyn.
Our meeting was very formal and circumspect. I was in no mood for
anything verging on the sentimental. Flo was in a great dilemma about
her father, who had lost his eyesight and was in a hospital in New York,
as there was no member of their family who could look after him. He had
been a very brilliant lawyer, but his mind was becoming somewhat cloudy,
though he was still in good physical condition. It was suggested that he
should come to live with me in the country. I had nothing in view in a
business way, so I agreed to take him, with a man servant who would
valet him.
The home coming was very sad, and I was glad to find a lot of work to do
to get the house in order.
Before I had left home for Europe, one of my young girl friends who had
the same first name as I was a frequent visitor at our house. She had
singled me out as the object of her adoration. She spent hours with me
while Jack and Juno were away driving and walking, as I was suffering
deeply and she was very sympathetic and dear. She played and sang very
sweetly, which soothed me. Her little head (she was twenty years old)
was puzzling about all sorts of things which she dared not ask her
mother. She told me astonishing things which were going on in that
little town, but she had steered clear of them all, so she said. She
told me of all sorts of things which would stir her deeply and made her
want something, she did not know what. She was considered very delicate,
and at first I wondered whether she knew more than she told, but I was
convinced that she was really innocent.
There was a case where so many would say in a sneering way, “she needs a
man to straighten her out,” doing nothing to relieve her. Doctors know
this, but they dare not tell parents, lest they lose their jobs.
When I left for Europe this child was heartbroken. She wrote me a dear
little love letter to read each day of the voyage. I never forgot that
kindness, for it helped me a lot. She was equally glad when I returned
and had the house opened for me and flowers everywhere, though it was
early spring.
I had a dear welcome from all our old friends, and they all tried to
help me forget Juno.
Juno and I wrote to each other, but the letters were about ordinary
things of mutual interest—nothing verging on love. I saw Jack
occasionally and he seemed a very sad and subdued young man. Although
the Father—the principal of the school—knew of this man’s propensities
with boys, he was still retained in the school. The head master,
however, had been dismissed, as there was an open scandal in connection
with the friend who had persuaded us to go to that town to live.
Our home was restored to its former attractiveness and the old gentleman
arrived with the fine colored man whom I had engaged before I left New
York. I was able to make him very comfortable and happy. Flo and the
Professor and the baby boy took a furnished house near me for the
summer, and while there were various efforts on the part of the
Professor to resume relationships, I squelched them at once, as I felt
that there were certain parts of me which had died and I had no thought
of them.
One thing happened that summer which may be of interest in connection
with the subject of which I am writing.
It will be remembered that in the finishing school in New York there was
one girl who interested us deeply, the one who was “disgraced in life”
when her room-mate gave a smoker. We had always kept up the friendship
through letters, though we had not seen her since she left school. She
knew that I had returned from Europe alone, for which she was very
sorry, as she had always thought ours to be an ideal friendship. She was
in the East visiting and wanted to come to make me a visit. Of course I
was delighted to have her come.
I met her at the station and found her the same enthusiastic, lovable
girl as of old, yet there seemed to be something different in her face.
Possibly she had experienced some sorrow or possibly it was caused by
the added years.
When we got to her rooms she put her arms about me and gave me a very
long and passionate kiss. I was astonished. She then burst forth with an
emotional expression of the love she had always had for me, which she
had never dared to confess on account of the friendship between Juno and
me. She knew now that I would be horrified to know that hers was more
than an ordinary love and would probably send her home. She tried in an
embarrassing way to describe the passion she felt for me. I just let her
go on and on. I really could not have got a word in edgewise if I had
tried. She told me of affairs she had had in the school, where such
things were the rule of the day and were called “crushes,” as they
always have been and are today. She told me of the efforts she had made
to reach the heights that some of the girls had described, but she knew
she must be different from other girls and she felt that it might be
because she did not really love them.
I thought in pity of her dilemma and struggle, seeing so well my own
experience duplicated. She begged to sleep with me, but it was a talk
fest rather than sleep.
I tried to tell her that my love for her was not a physical thing and
that I had no desire to have her touch me. She felt, however, that she
could never be happy again without me and was making her plans to go
home and then to return and live with me. She was bright and
entertaining and would have been a wonderfully cheerful little pal, but
the sex part did not appeal to me.
Her mother died very soon after she got home, and the poor child was
broken-hearted. She was obliged to remain and care for the family and
carry on in her mother’s place. Thus ended that episode. We wrote
occasionally, but in time we drifted so far apart in our interests that
we have not written since. I judged that she was to be married and I
hope lived happily ever after.
Towards the close of the summer, the old gentleman gently failed and
soon went peacefully to his last sleep.
CHAPTER XXIII
Negotiations had begun towards another field of work, which were
completed by November. In the meantime, Juno had agreed to storing what
things we thought we might individually want in the future and selling
the rest at auction. This I attended to with dispatch, as it was
heartbreaking to see the home broken up in that way.
I then took up a work in which I had the opportunity to satisfy the
great mother love which I had ever had in my nature. I was given charge
of a large country home about forty miles from New York which was owned
by one of the richest churches in the city and used for a fresh air and
convalescent home for the people connected with the East Side mission
belonging to that church. My whole heart went into the work.
From being a pest in the town, the children, the church, and all
connected with it being detested and despised by all the town people, I
soon made it loved by all. It became a real social center and I was told
the change was no less than miraculous. I created an atmosphere of love
and I ruled all by that one greatest ruler—the love that passeth all
understanding. I grew to know more and more that the thing called love
in a human relationship simply had no meaning. When the separation is
made between love and physical passion, the better for the peace and
happiness of mankind.
Here in this home I had the opportunity to study children from every
angle with both eyes open. I was able to detect the abnormally sexually
developed little one; the masturbator, male and female; the so-called
invert, and I was able to help them meet their problems in a sane way.
The reason I was able to do this was that I was able to detect them in
the very act. Not that I was snooping, but I had been a past master at
trying to deceive, and I knew it was the only way by which I could
reason with them.
A parent is rarely able to find these things out for himself because he
thinks _his_ child would not be guilty. And if he did discover any act
of the kind, all he would know how to do would be to beat the child, and
in their hearts parents well knew that that would be no solution.
Before I left the little town in Connecticut I promised the young friend
that if there should be an opening for her in my work I would send for
her. The first summer the opening came, and she was my assistant. I had
as other helpers two young men from the South, graduates of a southern
university. Both of these lads fell in love with my girl. She had a hard
time deciding which she would accept, as they both were attractive.
During a very hard thunder storm when she was protected by the strong
arms of one of these men, the momentous question was decided and they
eventually married. Now they have a dear little family and will live
happily ever after.
In my contact with the children at the home, I found to my surprise that
even when they were young enough to take naps in the afternoon they were
conscious of sex.
* * * * *
I read many books on adolescence but I found most of them dealing in
generalities, while my knowledge has been gained by actual experience.
I think some of the children believed that I possessed some occult power
to see through walls and around corners. I would often walk in upon them
in the midst of their sexual parties, and after they got over their
surprise that they were not to have a beating I would sit quietly and
talk with them, so gaining their confidence. I let them see that they
had a problem to solve and that I wanted to work _with_ them and not
against them.
I met with some obstacles, however, in resisting methods advised by the
spiritual heads of the church under which this work was being carried
on. I will give an instance. One young boy was sent up to me whose
sister had recently passed on with consumption, or “con,” as it was
termed by the children. It was feared that this boy was going the same
way, but it had not as yet developed. The moment I saw the lad, I knew
what was the matter with him and what it was that was breaking down his
constitution. I watched him for some time to determine what his methods
were. I discovered that he was involving other children in his
practices.
For two days I kept my eyes on this group, not letting them know that I
was doing so. Yet how that boy watched me! I then figured out the most
retired spot on the grounds and watched that spot from the house. After
trailing all about the grounds to see that I was nowhere in sight, sure
enough, there they came, innocently sauntering along picking a flower
here and there as though that was their errand. Finally they disappeared
behind the little house, which was at the time unoccupied. I slipped
quickly out, arrived on the scene and interrupted them.
The big boy waited for me while I took the youngsters to their rooms
where I talked to them and found that they had been bribed with candy. I
talked to them about the serious nature of what they had been doing and
received their promises never to indulge in such activities again.
I then returned to the poor “con” boy. I showed him that he was bringing
the much dreaded disease upon himself, for his family had led him to
believe that he had the same trouble as had his sister and would go the
same way. He had loved his only sister deeply and had grieved with the
parents for her. I was able, through that affection, to appeal to him
and to convince him that if he wanted to cure himself of the habit which
was to bring him into consumption I would be only too glad to help him.
I told him that I knew that if he wanted to keep on with that practice
no one could ever prevent it. I told him if he would come to me whenever
he was tempted I would read to him some wonderful story or tell him one,
a thing he loved, as did all of the children, or we would do something
which would make him forget those awful feelings which came to him. I
made him feel what a wonderful fight it would be if he could stand up
like a little man and meet that enemy face to face in a mighty battle
and kill him dead. I knew there was real boy down underneath that
weakened body and that a “real fight” would appeal to him.
All fear of beatings was put out of his mind, and the wonderful way this
method was working was most gratifying. When he would come to me and ask
if I were too busy to tell him a story, I knew and he knew, but nothing
was said and the story was forthcoming. We were fighting the fight.
Of course, the news of the peril they had been in and their discovery
and my treatment went out among the other boys from the youngsters,
which I felt was a good thing. In time the events came to the ears of
the powers that be in the city, and I was summoned to appear before the
board, in the office of the Rector in the great church. The young Rector
met me before I went in to the meeting and asked me to go into the
church to see the $40,000 alterations which had just been completed.
Magnificent, to be sure! When we were alone he referred to the case in
hand and asked if I really detected the thing which had come to the ears
of the board. I said I had. He then said “You know, Mrs. —, that boy
should have been sent away at once and put out of the home and the
mission. We can’t have a boy like that in our charity work.”
My blood boiled! I turned and looked him right in the eye and said: “Dr.
—, do you really believe that would have been Christ’s method?” His face
burned crimson and he had no word of answer. He limply said, “You will
find it to be the wish of the board”; he might have added he was the
rector of that rich church and must cater to those dollars.
I went into that meeting filled with rage, well under control, however,
followed by the rector, face still red—worshipped by all of those dear
old maids, and a few married ones. He well knew he was despised by me.
Argument was of no use in the midst of such sanctity.
I tried to show them the fight that boy was making, but they would not
listen. The subject was dismissed with the command that the boy be sent
home and the words, “You know, Mrs. —, you love children so much you do
not realize the menace such a boy is in our work.”
I looked at them all in pity and left them to save souls in their gilded
sepulcher, while I went back to try to clean up the bodies of the poor
children whose weaknesses were entirely misunderstood.
That poor boy was sent home. It almost broke his heart as it did mine.
Everyone had to acknowledge that he was in much better health, but
attributed it to the wonderful advantage of being in the country in that
beautiful home! The mother of the boy was violent in her protests
against me, as she said it was all a lie on my part, as her boy had told
her he never did that thing. Poor, poor boy! He was afraid of those
awful beatings. Physically afraid of telling his mother the truth. The
greatest trouble with our children today.
This will indicate the methods I was following to drown the great sorrow
of my life. I did good work. Those children all loved me as did their
parents, with that one exception. My methods were approved and I really
loved the work.
CHAPTER XXIV
I heard from Juno regularly and she came to this country once a year to
visit me. There was very little comfort for me in those visits, but
still I wanted to see her, hoping all the time I would find that she had
tired of her life with Irish.
We tried to break off entirely. I did not write to her for several
months, nor did she to me at my request. Then came entreaties again from
Irish that it was cruel to keep up the silence and that Juno was pining
for my letters. So again I yielded and resumed the correspondence.
The rich relative died and Juno was left a very comfortable fortune. She
came to this country until her affairs were settled and was with me much
of the time. Finally, at the opening of the war when she was again in
Paris, she had to come home and she took a lovely apartment in the city.
Soon she sent for Irish to come over to be with her, as she had money
enough for two at that time. I was compelled to receive them both at my
home in the country where I was engaged in the work which I have
described. This was very upsetting to me. At last I felt that I could
not see another with the one who had been my all in all, so I decided
this time to put the continent between us and went to the other side of
America.
I resolved not to go back to my work in the East and resigned my
position. The whole town and the children and parents protested and
petitioned me to come back. But I could not face the heartaches that
would be waiting for me.
I established myself in a little home in the mountains where I could
conduct a business which would bring me a living. I hoped to live and
die there. About the time that I was well settled and was making some
headway in conquering my sorrow, Juno wrote to me that she had at last
become tired of Irish and had made her marry a man from her own home in
Ireland who had long been a suitor. Juno accomplished this by promising
that she would go with her to Ireland and see her married, which she did
during the war. Juno had returned and wanted to come to visit me in my
mountain home the next spring, promising that she would stay six weeks.
When she came I was again in raptures, but there was no resumption of
anything intimate. She then told me of her love for a married man and
that it was returned. Well, that is her history. It was another
heartbreaker for me, however, when, after she had been with me for ten
days, the man appeared and demanded that she should go home with him the
next day, which she did.
The following Christmas, Juno’s brother wired for me to come for the
holidays and sent me the money for the trip. He said he needed me. I
went. Juno did not know of my coming until her brother asked her to go
with him to meet a friend who was coming that night. When she saw me she
was far from pleased, and my stay in New York was anything but pleasant.
Her brother was distressed at the thought that his sister could become
entangled with a married man, and thought that I could persuade her to
give the thing up and go back to me.
I got back to my mountain home as soon as possible and have never seen
the lady since. The man got his divorce and they were duly married. Her
husband has gone through all of Juno’s money. We still write
occasionally and I do not suffer all the time, but even now I have the
old sorrow come back and I will always look upon those years with my
beloved Juno as the most perfect that anyone could have, and worth all
the suffering they have brought into my life.
THE END
Transcriber’s Notes
This text was transcribed from the unchanged reprint edition in the
collection _HOMOSEXUALITY. Lesbians and Gay Men in Society, History and
Literature_, Arno Press: New York, 1975. Materials from a later date
than the original publication year 1930, such as series title, editorial
information, or publisher advertisements, have been omitted.
The original spelling was mostly preserved. A few obvious typographical
and punctuation errors were silently amended. All other changes are
shown here (before/after):
[p. 34]:
... it the sign that you are going to have a baby.” I did ...
... is the sign that you are going to have a baby.” I did ...
[p. 72]:
... but I loved life and the thought of ending brought ...
... but I loved life and the thought of ending it brought ...
[p. 77]:
... like wild Indians, and I was of the most ...
... like wild Indians, and I was one of the most ...
[p. 82]:
... had tried many: In my junior year I did become ...
... had tried many. In my junior year I did become ...
[p. 90]:
... for myself no greater happiness that that. ...
... for myself no greater happiness than that. ...
[p. 162]:
... go the front of the apartment and do her work there. ...
... go to the front of the apartment and do her work there. ...
[p. 196]:
... here and said I would put a stop to it at once. I was ...
... her and said I would put a stop to it at once. I was ...
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