Case 121. “In order to designate at once my unhappy diseased condition with its correct name, I will state at the beginning that it bears all the marks of what, in your work, ‘Psychopathia Sexualis,’ you have named effemination.
“I am now thirty-eight years old, and, thanks to my abnormality, I look back on a life that has been full of indescribable suffering; so that I am often astonished to think what capacity for suffering a man has. Of late consciousness of the suffering I have endured has become the source of a kind of self-respect, which, in itself, makes my life, in a measure, endurable.
“But I shall now endeavor to describe my condition with all truth. I am physically healthy, and, as far as I can remember, have never had any severe illness. I come of a healthy family. But my parents are both of a very excitable nature, my father being of the so-called choleric, and my mother of the sanguine, temperament; she has a strong tendency to mild melancholia. She is a lively woman, loved for her good-heartedness and active benevolence; but she is still very dependent and deficient in self-confidence. All these peculiarities were marked in her father. I mention this fact, because I am told that I resemble them both; and as far as the last two peculiarities are concerned, I can myself acknowledge the resemblance. But when I made attempts, by means of my inner strength and by thinking of my own power, to rend the bond that, with magic force, draws me to men, there was always a residuum left that I could not eradicate. As far as I can remember, I have always had this elementary longing for a male lover. To be sure, its first expressions were of a coarse, sensual nature. I do not know whether I was yet ten years old, when, while lying in bed in the day-time, I suddenly discovered how, by pressure on my genitals, I induced a new and intoxicating feeling, while fancying that a man of my acquaintance performed sensual manipulations on me. It was only many years afterward that I learned that this was onanism. At first I was so frightened and so depressed by the inexplicableness of my longing, that I then made my first attempt at suicide. If I had only put it into execution! For since then there has been such frequent violent agitation of mind and body that my heart has been bound as with a chain, and made cold. I may say at once that, up to the present time, onanism has not loosened me from its clutches; it has overcome all attempts and efforts to escape, and my desire to resist it is almost destroyed. Three or four times I have given it up for a month at a time, usually under the influence of mental excitement.
“When about thirteen, I had my first love. To-day it seems as if my greatest wish then was to kiss my school-fellow’s fresh, rosy lips. It was a passion full of romantic dreams. At the age of fifteen or sixteen it became more violent, when I first experienced the insane pangs of a jealousy which is more terrible than that of natural love can be. This second period of my life lasted for years, though I spent but a few days with the object of my passion; and then we did not see each other for fifteen years. Gradually my feeling cooled, and I then fell passionately in love several times with other men, who, with the exception of one, were about my own age.
“My love—if you will kindly allow this expression for a feeling condemned by the majority of mankind—has never been returned; I have never had intercourse with a man in any way that would not bear the light of day; never has any one shown even extraordinary interest in me, though one of my friends discovered my secret longing; and yet I have had a burning desire for masculine love. In this longing my feelings seem to me to be entirely those of a loving woman; and I notice, with horror, that my sensual ideas grow more and more like those of a woman. During the periods when I am free from any particular love, my longing degenerates so that, in my onanistic manipulations, I conjure up only coarse, sensual ideas. But I am still finally able to overcome these. My efforts to repress the love, however, are absolutely vain. At the present time I am again suffering with such an exaggerated state of feeling that has existed for months; and I have pondered so much over its peculiarities that I think I can describe my feelings truthfully. In this way I have made the peculiar observation that I have never loved a bearded man. From this it might easily be presumed that I am given to so-called boy-love; but that is not the case. For, to the sensual charm, on closer association, a mental interest is added. With this begins the mental pain. I am seized with such a passionate longing that I am willing to sacrifice myself, in a way. I excite confidence in myself; and from this mutual feeling a heart-felt friendship might be engendered, if deep down in my soul were not sleeping the demon which impels me to the closest of relationships, which is allowed only between human beings of opposite sex. My whole being, every fibre of my body, longs for it, and I am consumed by a hot, glowing passion. I wonder that here I can again describe in unfeeling words the feelings that coursed through my whole being. Of course, by the struggle of years, I have been forced to learn to conceal my inclination, and smile when torn by pain. For, in never having my love returned, I have learned to know all the sufferings of love. Jealousy—insane, blinding jealousy—of any and every body who casts but a friendly glance at the object of my secret love!
“I have emphasized the mental element, in order to show how deeply rooted my abnormal impulse is. I have never felt the slightest touch of sensual love for the opposite sex. The idea of being forced to associate sensually with women is repugnant to me. At times I have suffered enough on being assured of the love of young girls. Like every young man, I have had abundant opportunity to enjoy the modern social pleasures, dancing among them. I like to dance; but if I could dance with men, as a girl, I should be really happy.
“I wish once more to remark that my love is entirely sensual. How could I otherwise explain the fact that the pressure of my lover’s hand, often merely his glance, causes palpitation and erection! I have done everything to eradicate this love from my—let us say ‘heart.’ I have tried to still it by means of onanism; to drag it in the mire, in order to raise myself above it. (About ten years ago, during such a time of love, I avoided onanism, and felt that my feeling of love elevated me.) I still entertain the delusion that if the object of my love were to tell me he loved me, that he loved me, and only me, I should willingly give up sensual gratification to repose in faithful arms. But that is certainly a self-deception.
“Honored sir, I have a responsible occupation, and I think I can give the assurance that my abnormal inclination has never, even in a hair’s breadth, caused me to deviate from the duty imposed on me. Aside from this abnormality, I am not insane, and I might ultimately become contented; but I have, particularly of late years, suffered too much not to look on the future with painful feeling. For the future will certainly not bring fulfillment of the desire which constantly glows under the ashes,—the desire to possess a lover who understands and returns my love. Such a relation would make me truly happy. I have thought much about the origin of my abnormality, particularly because I think I am forced to assume that it was not inherited. I believe that onanism has changed the inborn feeling into a burning passion. I might long ago have put an end to my misery, since I have no fear of death, and since in religion—which, strange to say, has not departed from my impure heart—I find no warning against suicide. But the consciousness that I am not alone responsible, and that a worm has nipped my whole life in the bud,—a certain comfort that has sprung up of late out of indescribable suffering,—leads me to see whether comparative happiness in life cannot be obtained on an entirely new basis: something which fills the whole heart. I think I could be happy under the influence of quiet family life. But I dare not conceal from you the fact that the thought of married life with a wife is terrible to me, and that I make the attempt of a change of life with a bleeding heart; for thus I absolutely abandon the hope that is always awake; namely, the delusion that fate may yet bring me the desired happiness.
“This delusion is so deeply rooted in me that I think nothing but hypnotic suggestion could help me. If you could advise me, you would make me unspeakably happy. Of course, your strictest injunction would be to abandon onanism. How gladly I would follow it! But if I were not to have direct physical, some mechanical, means at hand to help me, I should certainly be unable to free myself from this vice; and this the more, because I fear that, by long years of habit, my nature has become accustomed to it. Of course, I have not escaped the effects of it, even though they are not so terrible as they are often pictured. I suffer with mild nervousness, am, indeed, weakened, and have periodical disturbance of digestion; but I can still endure hard work, and take a certain pleasure in it, when it is not too great. I am depressed, but I can be happy, and, fortunately, I take pleasure in my calling, and am interested in various things, particularly music, art, and belles-lettres. I have never indulged in female pursuits.
“As may be seen from the foregoing, I like to associate with men, especially with those who are handsome; but I have never had intimate relations with them. A wide gulf separates me from them!