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.