women of all sorts. I was no woman-hater. I had many true and charming
and most affectionate friendships with women. For, you must know,
Imre, that such men as I am are often most attractive to women, most
beloved by them.. I mean by good women... far more than through being
their relatives and social friends. They do not understand the reason
of our attraction for them, of their confidence, their strengthening
sentiment. For we seldom betray to them our secret, and they seldom
have knowledge, or instinct, to guess its mystery. But alas! it is the
irony of _our_ nature that we cannot return to any woman, except by a
lie of the body and the spirit, (often being unable to compass or to
endure that wretched subterfuge) a warmer glow than affection's
calmest pulsations. Several times, before my consulting Dr. D... I had
had the opportunity of marrying 'happily and wisely'--if marriage with
any woman could have meant only a friendship. Naught physical, no
responsibility of sex toward the wife to whom one gives oneself. But
'the will to possess, the desire to surrender', the negation of what
is ourself which comes with the arms of some one other human creature
about us--ours about _him_--long before, had I understood that the
like of this joy was not possible for me with wife or mistress. It
had seemed to me hopeless of attempt. If marriage exact _that_
effort.. good God! then it means a growing wretchedness, riddle and
mystery for two human beings, not for one. Stay! it means worse still,
should they not be childless......"
"But now I had my prescription, and I was to be cured. In ten days,
Imre, I was betrothed. Do not be surprised. I had known a long while
earlier that I was loved. My betrothed was the daughter of a valued
family friend, living in a near town. She was beautiful, gifted,
young, high-souled and gentle. I had always admired her warmly; we
had been much thrown together. I had avoided her lately however,
because--unmistakeably--I had become sure of a deeper sentiment on her
part than I could exchange."
"But now, now, I persuaded myself that I did indeed return it; that I
had not understood myself. And confidently, even ardently, I played my
new role so well, Imre, that I was deceived myself. And she? She never
felt the shade of suspicion. I fancied that I loved her. Besides, my
betrothed was not exacting, Imre. In fact, as I now think over those
few weeks of our deeper intimacy, I can discern how I was favoured in
my new relationship to her by her sensitive, maidenly shrinking from
the physical nearness, even the touch, of the man who was dear to
her... how troubling the sense of any man's advancing physical
dominancy over her. Yet do not make the mistake of thinking that she
was cold in her calm womanliness; or would have held herself aloof as
a wife. It was simply virginal, instinctive reserve. She loved me; and
she would have given herself wholly to me, as my bride."
"The date for our marriage was set. I tried to think of nothing but
it and her; of how calmly, securely happy I should soon be, and of
all the happiness that, God willing, I would bring into her young
life. I say 'tried' to think of nothing else. I almost succeeded.
But... nevertheless... in moments..."
"It was not to be, however, this deliverance, this salvation for me!"
"One evening, I was asked by a friend to come to his lodgings to dine,
to meet some strangers, his guests. I went. Among the men who came was
one... I had never seen him before... newly arrived in my city.. coming
to pass the winter. From the instant that set me face to face with
him... that let me hear his voice in only a greeting... that put us to
exchanging a few commonplace sentences... I thrilled with joy and
trembled to my innermost soul with a sudden anguish. For, Imre, it was
as if that dead schoolmate of mine, not merely as death had taken him;
but matured, a man in his beauty and charm... it was as if every
acquaintance that ever had quickened within me the same unspeakable
sense of a mysterious bond of soul and of body... the Man-Type which
owned me and ever must own me, soul and body together--had started
forth in a perfect avatar. Out of the slumberous past, out of the
kingdom of illusions, straying to me from the realm of banished
hopes, it had come to me! The Man, the Type, that thing which meant
for me the fires of passion not to be quenched, that subjection of my
whole being to an ideal of my own sex... that fatal 'nervous illusion',
as the famous doctor's book so summarily ranged it for the world.. all
had overtaken me again! My peace was gone--if ever I had had true
peace. I was lost, with it!..."
"From that night, I forgot everything else except him. My former,
unchanged, unchangeable self, in all its misery and mystery reverted.
The temperament which I had thought to put to sleep, the invisible
nature I had believed I could strangle--it had awakened with the
lava-seethe of a volcano. It burned in my spirit and body, like a
masked crater."
"Imre, I sought the friendship of this man, of my ideal who had
re-created for me, simply by his existence, a world of feeling; one of
suffering and yet of delight. And I won his friendship! Do not suppose
that I dared to dream, then or ever, of more than a commonplace,
social intimacy. Never, never! Merely to achieve his regard toward
myself a little more than toward others; merely that he would care to
give me more of his society, would show me more of his inner self
than he inclined to open to others. Just to be accounted by him
somewhat dearer, in such a man's vague often elusive degree, than the
majority for whom he cared at all! Only to have more constant leave to
delight my spirit in silence with his physical beauty while guarding
from him in a sort of terror the psychic effects it wrought in
me..... My hopes went no further than these. And, as I say, I won
them. As it kindly happened, our tastes, our interests in arts and
letters, our temperaments, the fact that he came to my city with few
acquaintances in it and was not a man who readily seeks them... the
chance that he lived almost in the same house with me... such
circumstances favored me immediately. But I did not deceive myself
once, either as to what was the measure or the kind of my emotion for
him, any more than about what (if stretched to its uttermost) would be
his sentiment for me, for any man. He could not love a man _so._ He
could love... passionately, and to the completing of his sexual
nature... only a woman. He was the normal, I the abnormal. In that,
alone, he failed to meet all that was I:
"O, the little more, and how much it is!
And the little less.. and what worlds away!"
"Did I keep my secret perfectly from him? Perfectly, Imre! You will
soon see that clearly. There were times when the storm came full over
me... when I avoided him, when I would have fled from myself, in the
fierce struggle. But I was vigilant. He was moved, now and then, at a
certain inevitable tenderness that I would show him. He often spoke
wonderingly of the degree of my 'absorbing friendship'. But he was a
man of fine and romantic ideals, of a strong and warm temper. His life
had been something solitary from his earliest youth... and he was no
psychologist. Despite many a contest with our relationship, I never
allowed myself to complain of him. I was too well aware how fortunate
was my bond with him. The man esteemed me, trusted me, admired
me... all this thoroughly. I had more; for I possessed what in such a
nature as his proves itself a manly affection. I was an essential
element in his daily life all that winter; intimate to a depth that
(as he told me, and I believe it was wholly true) he had never
expected another man could attain. Was all _that_ not enough for me?
Oh, yes! and yet... and yet..."
"I will not speak to you more of that time which came to pass for me,
Imre. It was for me, verily, a new existence! It was much such a daily
life, Imre, as you and I might lead together, had fate allowed us the
time for it to ripen. Perhaps we yet might lead it... God knows!... I
leave you tomorrow!"
"But, you ask,--what of my marriage-engagement?"
"I broke it. I had broken it within a week after I met him, so far as
shattering, it to myself went. I knew that no marriage, of any kind
yet tolerated in our era, would 'cure' me of my 'illusion', my
'nervous disease', could banish this 'mere psychic disturbance', the
result of 'too much introspection.' I had no disease! No... I was
simply what I was born!--a complete human being, of firm, perfect
physical and mental health; outwardly in full key with all the man's
world: but, in spite of that, a being who from birth was of a vague,
special sex; a member of the sex _within_ the most obvious sexes, or
apart from them. I was created as a man perfectly male, save in the
one thing which keeps such a 'man' back from possibility of ever
becoming integrally male--his terrible, instinctive demand for a
psychic and a physical union with a man--not with a woman."
"Presently, during that same winter, accident opened my eyes wider to
myself. From then, I have needed no further knowledge from the Tree of
my Good and Evil. I met with a mass of serious studies, German,
Italian, French, English, from the chief European specialists and
theorists on the similisexual topic: many of them with quite other
views than those of my well-meaning but far too conclusive Yankee
doctor. I learned of the much-discussed theories of 'secondary
sexes' and 'intersexes'. I learned of the theories and facts of
homosexualism, of the Uranian Love, of the Uranian Race, of 'the Sex
within a Sex'. I could, at last, inform myself fully of its mystery,
and of the logical, inevitable and necessary place in sexualism, of
the similisexual man, and of the similisexual woman".
"I came to know their enormous distribution all over the world today;
and of the grave attention that European scientists and jurists have
been devoting to problems concerned with homosexualism. I could pursue
intelligently the growing efforts to set right the public mind as to
so ineradicable and misunderstood a phase of humanity. I realized that
I had always been a member of that hidden brotherhood and Sub-Sex, or
Super-Sex. In wonder, too I informed myself of its deep, instinctive,
freemasonries--even to organized ones--in every social class, every
land, every civilization: of the signs and symbols and safeguards of
concealment. I could guess that my father, my grandfather and God
knows how many earlier forerunners of my unhappy Ego, had been of it!
'Cure?' By marriage? By marriage, when my blood ran cold at the
thought!...... The idea was madness, in a double sense. Better a
pistol-shot to my heart! So first, I found pretexts to excuse meetings
with my bride-not-to-be, avoiding thus a comedy which now was odious
as a lie and insupportable as a nervous demand. Next, I pleaded
business-worries. So the marriage was postponed for three months
further. Then I discovered a new obstacle to bring forward. With that,
the date of the wedding was made indefinite. Then came some idle
gossip, unjust reflections on my betrothed and on myself. I knew well
where blame enough should fall, but not that sort of blame. An end had
to be! I wrote my betrothed, begging my freedom, giving no reason. She
released me, telling me that she would never marry any other man. She
keeps her word to-day. I drew my breath in shame at my deliverance.
"Any other _man_!"
"So seldom had I referred to my betrothal in talking with my new
friend that he asked me no questions when I told him it was ended.
He mistook my reserve; and respected it rigidly."
"During that winter, I was able to prove myself a friend in deed and
need to him. Twice, by strange fatality, a dark cloud came over his
head. I might not dare to show him that he was dearer than myself; but
I could protect and aid him. For, do not think that he had no faults.
He had more than few; he was no hero, no Galahad. He was careless, he
was foolishly obstinate, he made missteps; and punishment came. But
not further than near. For I stood between! At another time his
over-confidence in himself, his unsuspiciousness, almost brought him
to ruin, with a shameful scandal! I saved him, stopping the mouths of
the dogs that were ready to howl, as well as to tear. I did so at the
cost of impairing my own material welfare; worse still, alas! with a
question of duty to others. Then, once again, as that year passed, he
became involved in a difference, in which certain of my own relatives,
along with some near friends of my family were concerned; directors in
a financial establishment in our city. I took his part. By that step,
I sacrificed the good-will and the longtime intimacy of the others.
What did I care? 'The world well lost!' thought I."
"Then, from that calm sky, thickened and fell on me the storm; and for
my goodly vineyard I had Desolation!"
"One holiday, he happened to visit some friends in the town where was
living my betrothed.. that had been. He heard there, in a club's
smoking-room, a tale 'explaining'--positively and circumstantially,
why my engagement had been broken. The story was a silly falsehood;
but it reflected on my honour. He defended me instantly and warmly.
That I heard. But his host, after the sharp passing altercation was
over, the evening ended, took him aside to tell him privately that,
while friendship for me made it a credit to stand out for me, the
tale was 'absolutely true'. He returned to me late that night. He was
thoroughly annoyed and excited. He asked me, as I valued my good name
and his public defence of it, to give him, then and there, the real,
the decisive reason for my withdrawing from my engagement. He would
not speak of it to anyone; but he would be glad to know, now, on what
ground he rested. I admitted that my betrothed had not wished the
withdrawing."
"That was the first thing counter to what he had insisted at the club.
He frowned in perplexity. Ah, so the matter was wholly from myself? I
assented. Would I further explain?... so that at least he could get rid
of one certain local statement... of that other one. An argument rose
between us that grew to a sharp altercation. It was our first one, as
well as our last. We became thoroughly angry, I the more so, because
of what I felt was a manifest injustice to myself. Finally there was
no other thing left than for me to meet his appeal--his demand. 'No
matter what was the root of the mystery, no matter what any attitude
toward me because of it, he must _know_'... Still I hung back. Then,
solemnly, he pledged me his word that whatever I might disclose, he
'would forgive it'; it should 'never be mentioned between us two
again'; only provided that it bore out his defence of my relation to a
faithful and pure woman."
"So--I yielded! Lately, the maddening wish to tell him all at any
risks, the pressure of passion and its concealment... they had never so
fiercely attacked me! In a kind of exalted shame, but in absolute
sincerity, I told him all! I asked nothing from him, except his
sympathy, his belief in whatever was my higher and manlier nature... as
the world judges any man... and the toleration of our friendship on the
lines of its past. Nothing more: not a handclasp, not a look, not a
thought more; the mere continued sufferance of my regard. Never again
need pass between us so much as a syllable or a glance to remind him
of this pitiable confession from me, to betray again the mysterious
fire that burned in me underneath our intimacy. He had not suspected
anything of it before. It could be forgotten by him from now, onward."
"Did I ask too much? By the God that made mankind, Imre--that made it
not only male or female but also as We are... I do not think I did!"
"But he, _he_ thought otherwise! He heard my confession through with
ever more hostile eyes, with an astonished unsympathy... disgust... curling
his lips. Then, he spoke--slowly--pitilessly: '... I have heard that
such creatures as you describe yourself are to be found among mankind.
I do not know, nor do I care to know, whether they are a sex by
themselves, a justified, because helpless, play of Nature; or even a
kind of _logically_ essential link, a between-step.... as you seem to
have persuaded yourself. Let all that be as it may be. I am not a man
of science nor keen to such new notions! From this moment, you and I
are strangers! I took you for my friend because I believed you to be
a... man. You chose me for your friend because you believed me.... stay,
I will not say _that!_... because you wished me to be.... a something
else, a something more or less like to yourself, whatever you
_are!_ I loathe you!... I loathe you! When I think that I have
touched your hand, have sat in the same room with you, have respected
you!.. Farewell!...... If I served you as a man should serve such beings
as you, this town should know your story tomorrow! Society needs more
policemen than it has, to protect itself from such lepers as you! I
will keep your hideous secret. Only remember never to speak to
me!... never to look my way again! Never! From henceforward I have
never known you and never will think of you!--if I can forget anything
so monstrous in this world!'"
"So passed he out of my life, Imre. Forever! Over the rupture of our
friendship not much was said, nevertheless. For he was called to
London a few days after that last interview; and he was obliged to
remain in the capital for months. Meantime I had changed my life to
meet its new conditions; to avoid gossip. I had removed my lodgings to
a suburb. I had taken up a new course in professional work. It needed
all my time. Then, a few months later, I started quietly on a long
travel-route on the Continent, under excuse of ill-health. I was far
from being a stranger to life in at least half a dozen countries of
Europe, east or west. But now, now, I knew that it was to be a refuge,
an exile!"
"For so began those interminable, those mysterious, restless
pilgrimages, with no set goals for me; those roamings alone, of which
even the wider world, not to say this or that circle of friends, has
spoken with curiosity and regret. My unexplained and perpetual exile
from all that earlier meant home, sphere, career, life! My wandering
and wandering, ever striving to forget, ever struggling to be beguiled
intellectually at least; to be diverted from so profound a sense of
loss. Or to attain a sort of emotional _assoupissement,_ to feel
myself identified with new scenes, to achieve a new identity. Little
by little, my birth-land, my people, became strange to me. I grew
wholly indifferent to them. I turned my back fuller on them, evermore.
The social elements, the grades of humanity really mine, the concerns
of letters, of arts,... from these I divorced myself utterly. They knew
me no more. In some of them, already I had won a certain repute; but I
threw away its culture as one casts aside some plant that does not
seem to him worth watering and tending."
"And indeed the zest of these things, their reason for being mine,
seemed dead.... asphyxiated! For, they had grown to be so much a part
of what had been the very tissue of intimacy, of life, with _him_! I
fled them all. Never now did my foot cross the threshold of a
picture-gallery, never did I look twice at the placard of a theater,
never would I enter a concert-room or an opera-house, never did I
care to read a romance, a poem, or to speak with any living creature
of aesthetics that had once so appealed to me! Above all did my
aversion to music (for so many years a peculiar interest for
me)--become now a dull hatred,..... a detestation, a contempt, a
horror!... super-neurotic, quintessently sexual, perniciously
homosexual art--mystery--that music is! For me, no more symphonies, no
more sonatas, no more songs!... No more exultations, elegies, questions
to Fate of any orchestra!... Nevermore!"
"And yet, involuntarily, sub-consciously, I was always hoping...
seeking--_something._ Hoping..., seeking.... what? Another such man as
I? Sometimes I cried out as to _that,_ 'God forbid it!' For I dreaded
such a chance now; realizing the more what it would most likely _not_
offer me. And really unless a miracle of miracles were to be wrought
just for me, unless I should light upon another human creature who in
sympathies, idealisms, noble impulses, manliness and a virile life
could fill, and could wish to fill, the desolate solitudes of mine,
could confirm all that was deepest fixed in my soul as the concept of
true similisexual masculinity.... oh, far better meet none! For such a
miracle of miracles I should not hope. Even traversing all the devious
ways of life may not bring us face to face with such a friend. Yet I
was hoping--seeking--I say: even if there was no vigour of expectancy,
but rather in my mind the melancholy lines of the poet:
"And are there found two souls, that each the other
Wholly shall understand? Long must man search
In that deep riddle--seek that Other soul
Until he dies! Seeking, despairing--dies!"
"Or, how easy to meet such a man, he also 'seeking, despairing' and
not to recognize him, any more than he recognizes us! The Mask--the
eternal social Mask for the homosexual!--worn before our nearest and
dearest, or we are ruined and cast out! I resolved to be content with
tranquility... pleasant friendships. Something like a kindly apathy,
often possessed me."
"And nevertheless, the Type that still so stirred my nature? The man
that is.... inevitably.. to be _loved,_ not merely liked; to be feared
while yet sought; the friend from whom I can expect nothing, from
whom never again will I expect anything, more than calm regard,
his sympathy, his mere leave for my calling him '_barátom_'--my
brother-friend? He, by whom I should at least be respected as an
upright fellow-creature from the workshop of God, not from the hand of
the Devil; be taken into companionship because of what in me is
worthily companionable? The fellow-man who will accept what of good in
me is like the rest of men, nor draw away from me, as from a leper?
Have I really ceased to dream of this grace for me, this vision--as
years have passed?"
"Never, alas! I have been haunted by it; however suppressed in my
heart. And something like its embodiment has crossed my way, really
nearly granted me again; more than once. There was a young English
officer, with whom I was thrown for many weeks, in a remote Northern
city. We became friends; and the confidence between us was so great
that I trusted him with the knowledge of what I am. And therewith had
I in turn, a confession from him of a like misfortune, the story of
his passion for a brother-officer in a foreign service, that made him
one of the most wretched men on the face of the world--while everyone
in his circle of home-intimates and regimental friends fancied that he
had not a trouble in life! There was, too, one summer in Bosnia, a
meeting with a young Austrian architect; a fellow of noble beauty and
of high, rich nature. There was a Polish friend, a physician--now far
off in Galizien. There was an Italian painter in Rome. But such
incidents were not full in the key. Hence, they moved me only
so far and no farther. Other passings and meetings came. Warm
friendship often grew out of them; tranquil, lasting, sustaining
friendship!--that soul-bond not over-common with _us,_ but, when
really welded, so beautiful, so true, so enduring!..."