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Title:      The Intermediate Sex
Author:     Edward Carpenter  (1844-1929)
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A Project Gutenberg of Australia eBook

Title:      The Intermediate Sex
Author:     Edward Carpenter  (1844-1929)

A Study of Some Transitional Types of Men and Women (1908)

"There are transitional forms between the metals and non-metals;
between chemical combinations and simple mixtures, between animals
and plants, between phanerogams and cryptogams, and between mammals
and birds. . . .  The improbability may henceforth be taken for
granted of finding in Nature a sharp cleavage between all that is
masculine on the one side and all that is feminine on the other; or
that any living being is so simple in this respect that it can be
put wholly on one side, or wholly on the other, of the line."



The following papers, now collected in book-form, have been written--
and some of them published--on various occasions during the last
twelve or fourteen years, and in the intervals of other work; and
this must be my excuse for occasional repetitions or overlapping of
matter, which may be observable among them.  I have thought it
best, however, to leave them as they stand, as in this way each is
more complete in itself.  The second essay, which gives its title
to the book, has already appeared in my "Love's Coming-of-Age"
(edition 1906), but is reprinted here as belonging more properly to
this volume.  A collection of quotations from responsible writers,
who touch on various sides of the subject, is added at the end, to
form an Appendix--which the author thinks will prove helpful,
though he does not necessarily endorse all the opinions presented.

E. C.



The subject dealt with in this book is one of great, and one may
say growing, importance.  Whether it is that the present period is
one of large increase in the numbers of men and women of an
intermediate or mixed temperament, or whether it merely is that it
is a period in which more than usual attention happens to be
accorded to them, the fact certainly remains that the subject has
great actuality and is pressing upon us from all sides.  It is
recognised that anyhow the number of persons occupying an
intermediate position between the two sexes is very great, that
they play a considerable part in general society, and that they
necessarily present and embody many problems which, both for their
own sakes and that of society, demand solution.  The literature of
the question has in consequence already grown to be very extensive,
especially on the Continent, and includes a great quantity of
 scientific works, medical treatises, literary essays,
romances, historical novels, poetry, etc.  And it is now generally
admitted that some knowledge and enlightened understanding of the
subject is greatly needed for the use of certain classes--as, for
instance, medical men, teachers, parents, magistrates, judges, and
the like.

That there are distinctions and gradations of Soul-material in
relation to Sex--that the inner psychical affections and affinities
shade off and graduate, in a vast number of instances, most subtly
from male to female, and not always in obvious correspondence with
the outer bodily sex--is a thing evident enough to anyone who
considers the subject; nor could any good purpose well be served by
ignoring this fact--even if it were possible to do so.  It is easy
of course (as some do) to classify all these mixed or intermediate
types as BAD.  It is also easy (as some do) to argue that just
because they combine opposite qualities they are likely to be GOOD
and valuable.  But the subtleties and complexities of Nature cannot
be despatched in this off-hand manner.  The great probability is
that, as in any other class of human beings, there will be among
these too, good and bad, high and low, worthy  and unworthy--
some perhaps exhibiting through their double temperament a rare
and beautiful flower of humanity, others a perverse and tangled

Before the facts of Nature we have to preserve a certain humility
and reverence; nor rush in with our preconceived and obstinate
assumptions.  Though these gradations of human type have always,
and among all peoples, been more or less known and recognised, yet
their frequency to-day, or even the concentration of attention on
them, may be the indication of some important change actually in
progress.  We do NOT know, in fact, what possible evolutions are to
come, or what new forms, of permanent place and value, are being
already slowly differentiated from the surrounding mass of
humanity.  It may be that, as at some past period of evolution the
worker-bee was without doubt differentiated from the two ordinary
bee-sexes, so at the present time certain new types of human kind
may be emerging, which will have an important part to play in the
societies of the future--even though for the moment their appearance
is attended by a good deal of confusion and misapprehension.  It may
be so; or it may not.  We do not know; and the  best attitude
we can adopt is one of sincere and dispassionate observation of

Of course wherever this subject touches on the domain of love we
may expect difficult queries to arise.  Yet it is here probably
that the noblest work of the intermediate sex or sexes will be
accomplished, as well as the greatest errors committed.  It seems
almost a law of Nature that new and important movements should be
misunderstood and vilified--even though afterwards they may be
widely approved or admitted to honour.  Such movements are always
envisaged first from whatever aspect they may possibly present, of
ludicrous or contemptible.  The early Christians, in the eyes of
Romans, were chiefly known as the perpetrators of obscure rites and
crimes in the darkness of the catacombs.  Modern Socialism was for
a long time supposed to be an affair of daggers and dynamite; and
even now there are thousands of good people ignorant enough to
believe that it simply means "divide up all round, and each take
his threepenny bit."  Vegetarians were supposed to be a feeble and
brainless set of cabbage-eaters.  The Women's movement, so vast in
its scope and importance, was nothing but an absurd attempt to make
women "the apes of  men."  And so on without end; the
accusation in each case being some tag or last fag-end of fact,
caught up by ignorance, and coloured by prejudice.  So commonplace
is it to misunderstand, so easy to misrepresent.

That the Uranian temperament, especially in regard to its
affectional side, is not without faults must naturally be allowed;
but that it has been grossly and absurdly misunderstood is certain.
With a good deal of experience in the matter, I think one may
safely say that the defect of the male Uranian, or Urning,  is
NOT sensuality--but rather SENTIMENTALITY.  The lower, more
ordinary types of Urning are often terribly sentimental; the
superior types strangely, almost incredibly emotional; but neither
AS A RULE (though of course there must be exceptions) are so
sensual as the average normal man.

This immense capacity of emotional love represents of course a
great driving force.  Whether in the individual or in society, love
is eminently creative.  It is their great genius for attachment
which gives to the best Uranian types their penetrating influence
and activity, and which often makes  them beloved and
accepted far and wide even by those who know nothing of their inner
mind.  How many so-called philanthropists of the best kind (we need
not mention names) have been inspired by the Uranian temperament,
the world will probably never know.  And in all walks of life the
great number and influence of folk of this disposition, and the
distinguished place they already occupy, is only realised by those
who are more or less behind the scenes.  It is probable also that
it is this genius for emotional love which gives to the Uranians
their remarkable YOUTHFULNESS.

Anyhow, with their extraordinary gift for, and experience in,
affairs of the heart--from the double point of view, both of the
man and of the woman--it is not difficult to see that these people
have a special work to do as reconcilers and interpreters of the
two sexes to each other.  Of this I have spoken at more length
below (chaps. ii. and v.).  It is probable that the superior
Urnings will become, in affairs of the heart, to a large extent the
teachers of future society; and if so, that their influence will
tend to the realisation and expression of an attachment less
exclusively sensual than the average of to-day, and to the
diffusion of this in all directions.

 While at any rate not presuming to speak with authority on
so difficult a subject, I plead for the necessity of a patient
consideration of it, for the due recognition of the types of
character concerned, and for some endeavour to give them their
fitting place and sphere of usefulness in the general scheme of

One thing more by way of introductory explanation.  The word Love
is commonly used in so general and almost indiscriminate a fashion
as to denote sometimes physical instincts and acts, and sometimes
the most intimate and profound feelings; and in this way a good
deal of misunderstanding is caused.  In this book (unless there be
exceptions in the Appendix) the word is used to denote the inner
devotion of one person to another; and when anything else is meant--
as, for instance, sexual relations and actions--this is clearly
stated and expressed.



"Urning men and women, on whose book of life Nature has written her
new word which sounds so strange to us, bear such storm and stress
within them, such ferment and fluctuation, so much complex material
having its outlet only towards the future; their individualities
are so rich and many-sided, and withal so little understood, that
it is impossible to characterise them adequately in a few
sentences."--Otto de Joux.

In late years (and since the arrival of the New Woman amongst us)
many things in the relation of men and women to each other have
altered, or at any rate become clearer.  The growing sense of
equality in habits and customs--university studies, art, music,
politics, the bicycle, etc.--all these things have brought about a
rapprochement between the sexes.  If the modern woman is a little
more masculine in some ways than her predecessor, the modern man
(it is to be hoped), while by no means effeminate, is a little more
sensitive in temperament and artistic in feeling than the 
original John Bull.  It is beginning to be recognised that the
sexes do not or should not normally form two groups hopelessly
isolated in habit and feeling from each other, but that they rather
represent the two poles of ONE group--which is the human race; so
that while certainly the extreme specimens at either pole are
vastly divergent, there are great numbers in the middle region who
(though differing corporeally as men and women) are by emotion and
temperament very near to each other.    We all know women with a strong dash of the masculine
temperament, and we all know men whose almost feminine sensibility
and intuition seem to belie their bodily form.  Nature, it might
appear, in mixing the elements which go to compose each individual,
does not always keep her two groups of ingredients--which represent
the two sexes--properly apart, but often throws them crosswise in a
somewhat baffling manner, now this way and now that; yet wisely, we
must think--for if a severe distinction of elements were always
maintained the two sexes would soon drift into far latitudes and
absolutely cease to understand each other.  As it is, there are
some remarkable and (we think) indispensable types of  
character in whom there is such a union or balance of the feminine
and masculine qualities that these people become to a great extent
the interpreters of men and women to each other.

There is another point which has become clearer of late.  For as
people are beginning to see that the sexes form in a certain sense
a continuous group, so they are beginning to see that Love and
Friendship--which have been so often set apart from each other as
things distinct--are in reality closely related and shade
imperceptibly into each other.  Women are beginning to demand that
Marriage shall mean Friendship as well as Passion; that a comrade-
like Equality shall be included in the word Love; and it is
recognised that from the one extreme of a "Platonic" friendship
(generally between persons of the same sex) up to the other extreme
of passionate love (generally between persons of opposite sex) no
hard and fast line can at any point be drawn effectively separating
the different kinds of attachment.  We know, in fact, of
Friendships so romantic in sentiment that they verge into love; we
know of Loves so intellectual and spiritual that they hardly dwell
in the sphere of Passion.

A moment's thought will show that the general  conceptions
indicated above--if anywhere near the truth--point to an immense
diversity of human temperament and character in matters relating to
sex and love; but though such diversity has probably always
existed, it has only in comparatively recent times become a subject
of study.  More than thirty years ago, however, an Austrian writer,
K. H. Ulrichs, drew attention in a series of pamphlets (Memnon, Ara
Spei, Inclusa, etc.) to the existence of a class of people who
strongly illustrate the above remarks, and with whom specially this
paper is concerned.  He pointed out that there were people born in
such a position--as it were on the dividing line between the sexes--
that while belonging distinctly to one sex as far as their bodies
are concerned they may be said to belong MENTALLY and EMOTIONALLY
to the other; that there were men, for instance, who might be
described as of feminine soul enclosed in a male body (anima
muliebris in corpore virili inclusa), or in other cases, women
whose definition would be just the reverse.  And he maintained that
this doubleness of nature was to a great extent proved by the
special direction of their love-sentiment.  For in such cases, as
indeed might be expected, the (apparently) masculine  person
instead of forming a love-union with a female tended to contract
romantic friendships with one of his own sex; while the apparently
feminine would, instead of marrying in the usual way, devote
herself to the love of another feminine.

People of this kind (i.e., having this special variation of the
love-sentiment) he called Urnings;  and though we are not obliged to accept
his theory about the crosswise connexion between "soul" and "body,"
since at best these words are somewhat vague and indefinite; yet
his work was important because it was one of the first attempts, in
modern times, to recognise the existence of what might be called an
Intermediate sex, and to give at any rate SOME explanation of it.

Since that time the subject has been widely studied and written
about by scientific men and others, especially on the Continent
(though in  England it is still comparatively unknown), and
by means of an extended observation of present-day cases, as well
as the indirect testimony of the history and literature of past
times, quite a body of general conclusions has been arrived at--of
which I propose in the following pages to give some slight account.

Contrary to the general impression, one of the first points that
emerges from this study is that "Urnings," or Uranians, are by no
means so very rare; but that they form, beneath the surface of
society, a large class.  It remains difficult, however, to get an
exact statement of their numbers; and this for more than one
reason: partly because, owing to the want of any general
understanding of their case, these folk tend to conceal their true
feelings from all but their own kind, and indeed often deliberately
act in such a manner as to lead the world astray--(whence it arises
that a normal man living in a certain society will often refuse to
believe that there is a single Urning in the circle of his
acquaintance, while one of the latter, or one that understands the
nature, living in the same society, can count perhaps a score or
more)--and partly because it is indubitable that the numbers do
vary very greatly, not only in different  countries but even
in different classes in the same country.  The consequence of all
this being that we have estimates differing very widely from each
other.  Dr. Grabowsky, a well-known writer in Germany, quotes
figures (which we think must be exaggerated) as high as one man in
every 22, while Dr. Albert Moll (Die Contrre Sexualempfindung,
chap. 3) gives estimates varying from 1 in every 50 to as low as
1 in every 500.   These figures apply to such as are
exclusively of the said nature, i.e., to those whose deepest
feelings of love and friendship go out only to persons of their own
sex.  Of course, if in addition are included those double-natured
people (of whom there is a great number) who experience the normal
attachment, with the homogenic tendency in less or greater degree
superadded, the estimates must be greatly higher.

In the second place it emerges (also contrary to the general
impression) that men and women of the exclusively Uranian type are
by no means necessarily morbid in any way--unless, indeed, their
peculiar temperament be pronounced in itself  morbid.
Formerly it was assumed, as a matter of course, that the type was
merely a result of disease and degeneration; but now with the
examination of the actual facts it appears that, on the contrary,
many are fine, healthy specimens of their sex, muscular and well-
developed in body, of powerful brain, high standard of conduct, and
with nothing abnormal or morbid of any kind observable in their
physical structure or constitution.  This is of course not true of
all, and there still remain a certain number of cases of weakly
type to support the neuropathic view.  Yet it is very noticeable
that this view is much less insisted on by the later writers than
by the earlier.  It is also worth noticing that it is now
acknowledged that even in the most healthy cases the special
affectional temperament of the "Intermediate" is, as a rule,
ineradicable; so much so that when (as in not a few instances) such
men and women, from social or other considerations, have forced
themselves to marry and even have children, they have still not
been able to overcome their own bias, or the leaning after all of
their life-attachment to some friend of their own sex.

This subject, though obviously one of considerable interest and
importance, has been hitherto,  as I have pointed out, but
little discussed in this country, partly owing to a certain amount
of doubt and distrust which has, not unnaturally perhaps,
surrounded it.  And certainly if the men and women born with the
tendency in question were only exceedingly rare, though it would
not be fair on that account to ignore them, yet it would hardly be
necessary to dwell at great length on their case.  But as the class
is really, on any computation, numerous, it becomes a duty for
society not only to understand them but to help them to understand

For there is no doubt that in many cases people of this kind suffer
a great deal from their own temperament--and yet, after all, it is
possible that they may have an important part to play in the
evolution of the race.  Anyone who realises what Love is, the
dedication of the heart, so profound, so absorbing, so mysterious,
so imperative, and always just in the noblest natures so strong,
cannot fail to see how difficult, how tragic even, must often be
the fate of those whose deepest feelings are destined from the
earliest days to be a riddle and a stumbling-block, unexplained to
themselves, passed over in silence by others.    To call people  of
such temperament "morbid," and so forth, is of no use.  Such a term
is, in fact, absurdly inapplicable to many, who are among the most
active, the most amiable and accepted members of society; besides,
it forms no solution of the problem in question, and only amounts
to marking down for disparagement a fellow-creature who has already
considerable difficulties to contend with.  Says Dr. Moll, "Anyone
who has seen many Urnings will probably admit that they form a by
no means enervated human group; on the contrary, one finds
powerful, healthy-looking folk among them;" but in the very next
sentence he says that they "suffer severely" from the way they are
regarded; and in the manifesto of a considerable community of such
people in Germany occur these words, "The rays of sunshine in the
night of our existence are so rare, that we are responsive and
deeply grateful for the least movement, for every single voice that
speaks in our favour in the forum of mankind."  

In dealing with this class of folk, then, while I do not deny that
they present a difficult problem, I think that just for that very
reason their  case needs discussion.  It would be a great
mistake to suppose that their attachments are necessarily sexual,
or connected with sexual acts.  On the contrary (as abundant
evidence shows), they are often purely emotional in their
character; and to confuse Uranians (as is so often done) with
libertines having no law but curiosity in self-indulgence is to do
them a great wrong.  At the same time, it is evident that their
special temperament may sometimes cause them difficulty in regard
to their sexual relations.  Into this subject we need not just now
enter.  But we may point out how hard it is, especially for the
young among them, that a veil of complete silence should be drawn
over the subject, leading to the most painful misunderstandings,
and perversions and confusions of mind; and that there should be no
hint of guidance; nor any recognition of the solitary and really
serious inner struggles they may have to face!  If the problem is a
difficult one--as it undoubtedly is--the fate of those people is
already hard who have to meet it in their own persons, without
their suffering in addition from the refusal of society to give
them any help.  It is partly for these reasons, and to throw a
little light where it may be needed, that I have thought it might
be  advisable in this paper simply to give a few general
characteristics of the Intermediate types.

As indicated then already, in bodily structure there is, as a rule,
nothing to distinguish the subjects of our discussion from ordinary
men and women; but if we take the general mental characteristics it
appears from almost universal testimony that the male tends to be
of a rather gentle, emotional disposition--with defects, if such
exist, in the direction of subtlety, evasiveness, timidity, vanity,
etc.; while the female is just the opposite, fiery, active, bold
and truthful, with defects running to brusqueness and coarseness.
Moreover, the mind of the former is generally intuitive and
instinctive in its perceptions, with more or less of artistic
feeling; while the mind of the latter is more logical, scientific,
and precise than usual with the normal woman.  So marked indeed are
these general characteristics that sometimes by means of them
(though not an infallible guide) the nature of the boy or girl can
be detected in childhood, before full development has taken place;
and needless to say it may often be very important to be able to do

It was no doubt in consequence of the observation of these signs
that K. H. Ulrichs proposed  his theory; and though the
theory, as we have said, does not by any means meet ALL the facts,
still it is perhaps not without merit, and may be worth bearing in

In the case, for instance, of a woman of this temperament (defined
we suppose as "a male soul in a female body") the theory helps us
to understand how it might be possible for her to fall bon fide in
love with another woman.  Krafft-Ebing gives  the case of a lady (A.), 28 years of
age, who fell deeply in love with a younger one (B.).  "I loved her
divinely," she said.  They lived together, and the union lasted
four years, but was then broken by the marriage of B.  A. suffered
in consequence from frightful depression; but in the end--though
without real love--got married herself.  Her depression however
only increased and deepened into illness.  The doctors, when
consulted, said that all would be well if she could only have a
child.  The husband, who loved his wife sincerely, could not
understand her enigmatic behaviour.  She was friendly to him,
suffered his caresses, but for days afterwards remained "dull,
exhausted, plagued with irritation of the spine, and nervous."
  Presently a journey of the married pair led to another
meeting with the female friend--who had now been wedded (but also
unhappily) for three years.  "Both ladies trembled with joy and
excitement as they fell into each other's arms, and were
thenceforth inseparable.  The man found that this friendship
relation was a singular one, and hastened the departure.  When the
opportunity occurred, he convinced himself from the correspondence
between his wife and her 'friend' that their letters were exactly
like those of two lovers."

It appears that the loves of such women are often very intense, and
(as also in the case of male Urnings) life-long.    Both classes feel themselves blessed when
they love happily.  Nevertheless, to many of them it is a painful
fact that--in consequence of their peculiar temperament--they are,
though fond of children, not in the position to found a family.

We have so far limited ourselves to some very general characteristics
of the Intermediate race.  It may help to clear and fix our ideas if
we now describe in more detail, first, what may be called the
extreme and exaggerated types of the race, and then the more normal
and perfect types.  By  doing so we shall get a more definite
and concrete view of our subject.

In the first place, then, the extreme specimens--as in most cases
of extremes--are not particularly attractive, sometimes quite the
reverse.  In the male of this kind we have a distinctly effeminate
type, sentimental, lackadaisical, mincing in gait and manners,
something of a chatterbox, skilful at the needle and in woman's
work, sometimes taking pleasure in dressing in woman's clothes; his
figure not unfrequently betraying a tendency towards the feminine,
large at the hips, supple, not muscular, the face wanting in hair,
the voice inclining to be high-pitched, etc.; while his dwelling-
room is orderly in the extreme, even natty, and choice of
decoration and perfume.  His affection, too, is often feminine in
character, clinging, dependent and jealous, as of one desiring to
be loved almost more than to love.  

On the other hand, as the extreme type of the homogenic female, we
have a rather markedly aggressive person, of strong passions,
masculine manners and movements, practical in the conduct 
of life, sensuous rather than sentimental in love, often untidy,
and outr in attire;  her figure muscular, her voice rather low
in pitch; her dwelling-room decorated with sporting-scenes,
pistols, etc., and not without a suspicion of the fragrant weed in
the atmosphere; while her love (generally to rather soft and
feminine specimens of her own sex) is often a sort of furor,
similar to the ordinary masculine love, and at times almost

These are types which, on account of their salience, everyone will
recognise more or less.  Naturally, when they occur they excite a
good deal of attention, and it is not an uncommon impression that
most persons of the homogenic nature belong to either one or other
of these classes.  But in reality, of course, these extreme
developments are rare, and for the most part the temperament in
question is embodied in men and women of quite normal and
unsensational exterior.  Speaking of this subject and the
connection between effeminateness and the homogenic nature in men,
Dr.  Moll says:  "It is, however, as well to point out at
the outset that effeminacy does not by any means show itself in all
Urnings.  Though one may find this or that indication in a great
number of cases, yet it cannot be denied that a very large
percentage, perhaps by far the majority of them, do NOT exhibit
pronounced Effeminacy."  And it may be supposed that we may draw
the same conclusion with regard to women of this class--namely,
that the majority of them do not exhibit pronounced masculine
habits.  In fact, while these extreme cases are of the greatest
value from a scientific point of view as marking tendencies and
limits of development in certain directions, it would be a serious
mistake to look upon them as representative cases of the whole
phases of human evolution concerned.

If now we come to what may be called the more normal type of the
Uranian man, we find a man who, while possessing thoroughly
masculine powers of mind and body, combines with them the tenderer
and more emotional soul-nature of the woman--and sometimes to a
remarkable degree.  Such men, as said, are often muscular and well-
built, and not distinguishable in exterior structure and the
carriage of body from others of their own  sex; but
emotionally they are extremely complex, tender, sensitive, pitiful
and loving, "full of storm and stress, of ferment and fluctuation"
of the heart; the logical faculty may or may not, in their case, be
well-developed, but intuition is always strong; like women they
read characters at a glance, and know, without knowing how, what is
passing in the minds of others; for nursing and waiting on the
needs of others they have often a peculiar gift; at the bottom lies
the artist-nature, with the artist's sensibility and perception.
Such an one is often a dreamer, of brooding, reserved habits, often
a musician, or a man of culture, courted in society, which
nevertheless does not understand him--though sometimes a child of
the people, without any culture, but almost always with a peculiar
inborn refinement.  De Joux, who speaks on the whole favourably of
Uranian men and women, says of the former:  "They are enthusiastic
for poetry and music, are often eminently skilful in the fine arts,
and are overcome with emotion and sympathy at the least sad
occurrence.  Their sensitiveness, their endless tenderness for
children, their love of flowers, their great pity for beggars and
crippled folk are truly womanly."  And in another passage he
indicates the  artist-nature, when he says:  "The nerve-
system of many an Urning is the finest and the most complicated
musical instrument in the service of the interior personality that
can be imagined."

It would seem probable that the attachment of such an one is of a
tender and profound character; indeed, it is possible that in this
class of men we have the love sentiment in one of its most perfect
forms--a form in which from the necessities of the situation the
sensuous element, though present, is exquisitely subordinated to
the spiritual.  Says one writer on this subject, a Swiss, "Happy
indeed is that man who has won a real Urning for his friend--he
walks on roses, without ever having to fear the thorns"; and he
adds, "Can there ever be a more perfect sick-nurse than an Urning?"
And though these are ex parte utterances, we may believe that there
is an appreciable grain of truth in them.  Another writer, quoted
by De Joux, speaks to somewhat the same effect, and may perhaps be
received in a similar spirit.  "We form," he says, "a peculiar
aristocracy of modest spirits, of good and refined habit, and in
many masculine circles are the representatives of the higher mental
and artistic element.  In us dreamers and enthusiasts lies the
 continual counterpoise to the sheer masculine portion of
society--inclining, as it always does, to mere restless greed of
gain and material sensual pleasures."

That men of this kind despise women, though a not uncommon belief,
is one which hardly appears to be justified.  Indeed, though
naturally not inclined to "fall in love" in this direction, such
men are by their nature drawn rather near to women, and it would
seem that they often feel a singular appreciation and understanding
of the emotional needs and destinies of the other sex, leading in
many cases to a genuine though what is called "Platonic" friendship.
There is little doubt that they are often instinctively sought after
by women, who, without suspecting the real cause, are conscious of a
sympathetic chord in the homogenic which they miss in the normal
man.  To quote De Joux once more:  "It would be a mistake to suppose
that all Urnings must be woman-haters.  Quite the contrary.  They
are not seldom the faithfulest friends, the truest allies, and most
convinced defenders of women."

To come now to the more normal and perfect specimens of the
homogenic WOMAN, we find a type in which the body is thoroughly
feminine and  gracious, with the rondure and fulness of the
female form, and the continence and aptness of its movements, but
in which the inner nature is to a great extent masculine; a
temperament active, brave, originative, somewhat decisive, not too
emotional; fond of out-door life, of games and sports, of science,
politics, or even business; good at organisation, and well-pleased
with positions of responsibility, sometimes indeed making an
excellent and generous leader.  Such a woman, it is easily seen,
from her special combination of qualities, is often fitted for
remarkable work, in professional life, or as manageress of
institutions, or even as ruler of a country.  Her love goes out to
younger and more feminine natures than her own; it is a powerful
passion, almost of heroic type, and capable of inspiring to great
deeds; and when held duly in leash may sometimes become an
invaluable force in the teaching and training of girl-hood, or in
the creation of a school of thought or action among women.  Many a
Santa Clara, or abbess-founder of religious houses, has probably
been a woman of this type; and in all times such women--not being
bound to men by the ordinary ties--have been able to work the more
freely for the interests of their sex, a cause  to which
their own temperament impels them to devote themselves con amore.

I have now sketched--very briefly and inadequately it is true--both
the extreme types and the more healthy types of the "Intermediate"
man and woman: types which can be verified from history and
literature, though more certainly and satisfactorily perhaps from
actual life around us.  And unfamiliar though the subject is, it
begins to appear that it is one which modern thought and science
will have to face.  Of the latter and more normal types it may be
said that they exist, and have always existed, in considerable
abundance, and from that circumstance alone there is a strong
probability that they have their place and purpose.  As pointed out
there is no particular indication of morbidity about them, unless
the special nature of their love-sentiment be itself accounted
morbid; and in the alienation of the sexes from each other, of
which complaint is so often made to-day, it must be admitted that
they do much to fill the gap.

The instinctive artistic nature of the male of this class, his
sensitive spirit, his wavelike emotional temperament, combined with
hardihood of intellect and body; and the frank, free nature of the
female, her masculine independence and strength  wedded to
thoroughly feminine grace of form and manner; may be said to give
them both, through their double nature, command of life in all its
phases, and a certain freemasonry of the secrets of the two sexes
which may well favour their function as reconcilers and
interpreters.  Certainly it is remarkable that some of the world's
greatest leaders and artists have been dowered either wholly or in
part with the Uranian temperament--as in the cases of Michel
Angelo, Shakespeare, Marlowe, Alexander the Great, Julius Csar,
or, among women, Christine of Sweden, Sappho the poetess, and



In its various forms, so far as we know them, Love seems always to
have a deep significance and a most practical importance to us
little mortals.  In one form, as the mere semi-conscious Sex-love,
which runs through creation and is common to the lowest animals and
plants, it appears as a kind of organic basis for the unity of all
creatures; in another, as the love of the mother for her offspring--
which may also be termed a passion--it seems to pledge itself to
the care and guardianship of the future race; in another, as the
marriage of man and woman, it becomes the very foundation of human
society.  And so we can hardly believe that in its homogenic form,
with which we are here concerned, it has not also a deep
significance, and social uses and functions which will become
clearer to us, the more we study it.

To some perhaps it may appear a little strained  to place
this last-mentioned form of attachment on a level of importance
with the others, and such persons may be inclined to deny to the
homogenic  or homosexual love that intense, that penetrating, and at
times overmastering character which would entitle it to rank as a
great human passion.  But in truth this view, when entertained,
arises from a want of acquaintance with the actual facts; and it
may not be amiss here, in the briefest possible way, to indicate
what the world's History, Literature, and Art has to say to
us on this aspect of the subject, before going on to further
considerations.  Certainly, if the confronting of danger and the
endurance of pain and distress for the sake of the loved one, if
sacrifice, unswerving devotion and life-long union, constitute
proofs of the reality and intensity (and let us say healthiness) of
an affection, then these proofs have been given in numberless cases
of such attachment, not only as existing between men, but as
between women, since the world began.  The records of chivalric
love, the feats of enamoured knights for their ladies' sakes, the
 stories of Hero and Leander, etc., are easily paralleled,
if not surpassed, by the stories of the Greek comrades-in-arms and
tyrannicides--of Cratinus and Aristodemus, who offered themselves
together as a voluntary sacrifice for the purification of Athens;
of Chariton and Melanippus,  who
attempted to assassinate Phalaris, the tyrant of Agrigentum; or of
Cleomachus who in like manner, in a battle between the Chalkidians
and Eretrians, being entreated to charge the latter, "asked the
youth he loved, who was standing by, whether he would be a
spectator of the fight; and when he said he would, and affectionately
kissed Cleomachus and put his helmet on his head, Cleomachus with
a proud joy placed himself in the front of the bravest of the
Thessalians and charged the enemy's cavalry with such impetuosity
that he threw them into disorder and routed them; and the Eretrian
cavalry fleeing in consequence, the Chalkidians won a splendid

The annals of all nations contain similar records--though probably
among none has the ideal of this love been quite so enthusiastic
and heroic as among the post-Homeric Greeks.  It is well 
known that among the Polynesian Islanders--for the most part a very
gentle and affectionate people, probably inheriting the traditions
of a higher culture than they now possess--the most romantic male
friendships are (or were) in vogue.  Says Herman Melville in "Omoo"
(chap. 39), "The really curious way in which all Polynesians are in
the habit of making bosom friends is deserving of remark. . . .  In
the annals of the island (Tahiti) are examples of extravagant
friendships, unsurpassed by the story of Damon and Pythias--in
truth much more wonderful; for notwithstanding the devotion--even
of life in some cases--to which they led, they were frequently
entertained at first sight for some stranger from another island."
So thoroughly recognised indeed were these unions that Melville
explains (in "Typee," chap. 18) that if two men of hostile tribes
or islands became thus pledged to each other, then each could pass
through the enemy's territory without fear of molestation or
injury; and the passionate nature of these attachments is indicated
by the following passage from "Omoo":--"Though little inclined to
jealousy in ordinary love-matters, the Tahitian will hear of no
rivals in his friendship."

  Even among savage races lower down than these in the scale
of evolution, and who are generally accused of being governed in
their love-relations only by the most animal desires, we find a
genuine sentiment of comradeship beginning to assert itself--as
among the Balonda  and other African tribes, where
regular ceremonies of the betrothal of comrades take place, by the
transfusion of a few drops of blood into each other's drinking-
bowls, by the exchange of names,  and the mutual
gift of their most precious possessions; but unfortunately, owing
to the obtuseness of current European opinion on this subject,
these and other such customs have been but little investigated and
have by no means received the attention that they ought.

When we turn to the poetic and literary utterances of the more
civilised nations on this subject we cannot but be struck by the
range and intensity of the emotions expressed--from the beautiful
threnody of David over his friend whose love was passing the love
of women, through the vast panorama of the Homeric Iliad, of which
the  heroic friendship of Achilles and his dear Patroclus
forms really the basic theme, down to the works of the great Greek
age--the splendid odes of Pindar burning with clear fire of
passion, the lofty elegies of Theognis, full of wise precepts to
his beloved Kurnus, the sweet pastorals of Theocritus, the
passionate lyrics of Sappho, or the more sensual raptures of
Anacreon.  Some of the dramas of schylus and Sophocles--as the
"Myrmidones" of the former and the "Lovers of Achilles" of the
latter--appear to have had this subject for their motive;  and
many of the prose-poem dialogues of Plato were certainly inspired
by it.

Then coming to the literature of the Roman age, whose materialistic
spirit could only with difficulty seize the finer inspiration of
the homogenic love, and which in such writers as Catullus and
Martial could only for the most part give expression to its grosser
side, we still find in Vergil a noble and notable instance.  His
second Eclogue bears the marks of a genuine passion; and, according
to some,  he there under the
name  of Alexis immortalises his own love for the youthful
Alexander.  Nor is it possible to pass over in this connection the
great mass of Persian literature, and the poets Sadi, Hafiz, Jami,
and many others, whose names and works are for all time, and whose
marvellous love-songs ("Bitter and sweet is the parting kiss on the
lips of a friend") are to a large extent, if not mostly, addressed
to those of their own sex.  

Of the medival period in Europe we have of course but few literary
monuments.  Towards its close we come upon the interesting story of
Amis and Amile (thirteenth century), unearthed by Mr. W. Pater from
the Bibliotheca Elzeviriana.    Though there is historic evidence of the prevalence of the
passion we may say of this period that its IDEAL was undoubtedly
rather the chivalric love than the love of comrades.  But with the
Renaissance in Italy and the Elizabethan period in England the
latter once more comes to evidence in a burst of poetic utterance,
culminates  perhaps in the magnificent sonnets of Michel
Angelo and of Shakespeare; of Michel Angelo whose pure beauty of
expression lifts the enthusiasm into the highest region as the
direct perception of the divine in mortal form;  and of Shakespeare--whose
passionate words and amorous spirituality of friendship have for
long enough been  a perplexity to hide-bound commentators.
Thence through minor writers (not overlooking Winckelmann  in Germany)
we pass to quite modern times--in which, notwithstanding the fact
that the passion has been much misunderstood and misinterpreted,
two names stand conspicuously forth--those of Tennyson, whose "In
Memoriam" is perhaps his finest work, and of Walt Whitman, the
enthusiasm of whose poems on Comradeship is only paralleled by the
devotedness of his labours for his wounded brothers in the American
Civil War.

It will be noticed that here we have some of the very greatest
names in all literature concerned; and that their utterances on
this subject equal if they do not surpass, in beauty, intensity and
humanity of sentiment, whatever has been written in praise of the
other more ordinarily recognised love.

And when again we turn to the records of Art, and compare the way
in which man's sense of Love and Beauty has expressed itself in the
portrayal of the male form and the female form respectively, we
find exactly the same thing.  The  whole vista of Greek
statuary shows the male passion of beauty in high degree.  Yet
though the statues of men and youths (by men sculptors)
preponderate probably considerably, both in actual number and in
devotedness of execution, over the statues of female figures, it
is, as J. A. Symonds says in his "Life of Michel Angelo,"
remarkable that in all the range of the former there are hardly two
or three that show a base or licentious expression, such as is not
so very uncommon in the female statues.  Knowing as we do the
strength of the male physical passion in the life of the Greeks,
this one fact speaks strongly for the sense of proportion which
must have characterised this passion--at any rate in the most
productive age of their Art.

In the case of Michel Angelo we have an artist who with brush and
chisel portrayed literally thousands of human forms; but with this
peculiarity, that while scores and scores of his male figures are
obviously suffused and inspired by a romantic sentiment, there is
hardly one of his female figures that is so,--the latter being
mostly representative of woman in her part as mother, or sufferer,
or prophetess or poetess, or in old age, or in any aspect of
strength or tenderness,  except that which associates itself
especially with romantic love.  Yet the cleanliness and dignity of
Michel Angelo's male figures are incontestable, and bear striking
witness to that nobility of the sentiment in him, which we have
already seen illustrated in his sonnets.  

This brief sketch may suffice to give the reader some idea of the
place and position in the world of the particular sentiment which
we are discussing; nor can it fail to impress him--if any reference
is made to the authorities quoted--with a sense of the dignity and
solidity of the sentiment, at any rate as handled by some of the
world's greatest men.  At the same time it would be affectation to
ignore the fact that side by side with this view of the subject
there has been another current of opinion leading people--
especially in quite modern times in Europe--to look upon
attachments of the kind in question with much suspicion and
disfavour.    And it may be necessary here to say a
few words on this latter view.

  The origin of it is not far to seek.  Those who have no
great gift themselves for this kind of friendship--who are not in
the inner circle of it, so to speak, and do not understand or
appreciate its deep emotional and romantic character, have
nevertheless heard of certain corruptions and excesses; for these
latter leap to publicity.  They have heard of the debaucheries of a
Nero or a Tiberius; they have noted the scandals of the Police
Courts; they have had some experience perhaps of abuses which may
be found in Public Schools or Barracks; and they (not unnaturally)
infer that these things, these excesses and sensualities, are the
motive of comrade-attachments, and the object for which they exist;
nor do they easily recognise any more profound and intimate bond.
To such people physical intimacies of ANY kind (at any rate between
males) seem inexcusable.  There is no distinction in their minds
between the simplest or most naive expression of feeling and the
gravest abuse of human rights and decency; there is no distinction
between a genuine heart-attachment and a mere carnal curiosity.
They see certain  evils that occur or have occurred, and
they think, perfectly candidly, that any measures are justifiable
to prevent such things recurring.  But they do not see the interior
love-feeling which when it exists does legitimately demand SOME
expression.  Such folk, in fact, not having the key in themselves
to the real situation, hastily assume that the homogenic attachment
has no other motive than, or is simply a veil and a cover for,
sensuality--and suspect or condemn it accordingly.

Thus arises the curious discrepancy of people's views on this
important subject--a discrepancy depending on the side from which
they approach it.

On the one hand we have anathemas and execrations, on the other we
have the lofty enthusiasm of a man like Plato--one of the leaders
of the world's thought for all time--who puts, for example, into
the mouth of Phdrus (in the "Symposium") such a passage as this:
  "I know not
any greater blessing to a young man beginning life than a virtuous
lover, or to the lover than a beloved youth.  For the principle
which ought to be the guide of men who would nobly live--that
principle, I say, neither kindred, nor  honour, nor wealth,
nor any other motive is able to implant so well as love.  Of what
am I speaking?  Of the sense of honour and dishonour, without which
neither states nor individuals ever do any good or great work. . . .
For what lover would not choose rather to be seen of all mankind
than by his beloved, either when abandoning his post or throwing
away his arms?  He would be ready to die a thousand deaths rather
than endure this.  Or who would desert his beloved or fail him in
the hour of danger?  The veriest coward would become an inspired
hero, equal to the bravest, at such a time; love would inspire him.
That courage which, as Homer says, the god breathes into the soul
of heroes, love of his own nature inspires into the lover."  Or
again in the "Phdrus" Plato makes Socrates say:   "In like manner the followers of Apollo and of
every other god, walking in the ways of their god, seek a love who
is to be like their god, and when they have found him, they
themselves imitate their god, and persuade their love to do the
same, and bring him into harmony with the form and ways of the god
as far as they can; for they have no feelings of envy or jealousy
towards  their beloved, but they do their utmost to create
in him the greatest likeness of themselves and the god whom they
honour.  Thus fair and blissful to the beloved when he is taken, is
the desire of the inspired lover, and the initiation of which I
speak into the mysteries of true love, if their purpose is


With these few preliminary remarks we may pass on to consider some
recent scientific investigations of the matter in hand.  In late
times--that is, during the last thirty years or so--a group of
scientific and capable men chiefly in Germany, France, and Italy,
have made a special and more or less impartial study of it.  Among
these may be mentioned Dr. Albert Moll of Berlin; R. von Krafft-
Ebing, one of the leading medical authorities of Vienna, whose book
on "Sexual Psychopathy" has passed into its tenth edition; Dr. Paul
Moreau ("Des Aberrations du sens gnsique"); Cesare Lombroso, the
author of various works on Anthropology; M. A. Raffalovich
("Uranisme et unisexualit"); Auguste Forel ("Die Sexuelle Frage");
Mantegazza;  K. H. Ulrichs; and last but not least, Dr.
Havelock Ellis, of whose great work on the Psychology of Sex the
second volume is dedicated to the subject of "Sexual Inversion."
  The result of these investigations has
been that a very altered complexion has been given to the subject.
For whereas at first it was easily assumed that the phenomena were
of morbid character, and that the leaning of the love-sentiment
towards one of the same sex was always associated with degeneracy
or disease, it is very noticeable that step by step with the
accumulation of reliable information this assumption has been
abandoned.  The point of view has changed; and the change has been
most marked in the latest authors, such as A. Moll and Havelock

It is not possible here to go into anything like a detailed account
of the works of these various authors, their theories, and the
immense number of interesting cases and observations which they
have contributed; but some of the general conclusions which flow
from their researches may be pointed out.  In the first place their
labours have  established the fact, known hitherto only to
individuals, that SEXUAL INVERSION--that is the leaning of desire
to one of the same sex--is in a vast number of cases quite
instinctive and congenital, mentally and physically, and therefore
twined in the very roots of individual life and practically
ineradicable.  To Men or Women thus affected with an innate
homosexual bias, Ulrichs gave the name of Urning,  since pretty widely accepted by
scientists.  Some details with regard to "Urnings," I have given in
the preceding paper, but it should be said here that too much
emphasis cannot be laid on the distinction between these born
lovers of their own kind, and that class of persons, with whom they
are so often confused, who out of mere carnal curiosity or
extravagance of desire, or from the dearth of opportunities for a
more normal satisfaction (as in schools, barracks, etc.) adopt some
homosexual practices.  It is the latter class who become chiefly
prominent in the public eye, and who excite, naturally enough,
public reprobation.  In their case the attraction is felt, by
themselves and all concerned, to be merely sensual and morbid.  In
the case of  the others, however, the feeling is, as said,
so deeply rooted and twined with the mental and emotional life that
the person concerned has difficulty in imagining himself affected
otherwise than he is; and to him at least his love appears healthy
and natural, and indeed a necessary part of his individuality.

In the second place it has become clear that the number of
individuals affected with "sexual inversion" in some degree or
other is very great--much greater than is generally supposed to be
the case.  It is however very difficult or perhaps impossible to
arrive at satisfactory figures on the subject,  for the simple reasons that the
proportions vary so greatly among different peoples and even in
different sections of society and in different localities, and
because of course there are all possible grades of sexual inversion
to deal with, from that in which the instinct is QUITE EXCLUSIVELY
directed towards the same sex, to the other extreme in which it is
normally towards the opposite sex but capable, occasionally and
under exceptional attractions, of inversion towards its own--this
last condition being probably among some peoples very widespread,
if not universal.

  In the third place, by the tabulation and comparison of a
great number of cases and "confessions," it has become pretty well
established that the individuals affected with inversion in marked
degree do not after all differ from the rest of mankind, or
womankind, in any other physical or mental particular which can be
distinctly indicated.    No congenital association with any
particular physical conformation or malformation has yet been
discovered; nor with any distinct disease of body or mind.  Nor
does it appear that persons of this class are usually of a gross or
specially low type, but if anything rather the opposite--being
mostly of refined, sensitive nature and including, as Krafft-Ebing
points out ("Psychopathia Sexualis," seventh ed., p. 227) a great
number "highly gifted in the fine arts, especially music and
poetry"; and, as Mantegazza says, 
many persons of high literary and social distinction.  It is true
that Krafft-Ebing insists on the generally strong sexual equipment
of this class of persons (among men), but he hastens to  say
that their emotional love is also "enthusiastic and exalted,"
 and that, while
bodily congress is desired, the special act with which they are
vulgarly credited is in most cases repugnant to them.  

The only distinct characteristic which the scientific writers claim
to have established is a marked tendency to nervous development in
the subject, not infrequently associated with nervous maladies; but--
as I shall presently have occasion to show--there is reason to
think that the validity even of this characteristic has been

Taking the general case of men with a marked exclusive preference
for persons of their own sex, Krafft-Ebing says ("P.S." p. 256):
"The sexual life of these Homosexuals is mutatis mutandis just the
same as in the case of normal sex-love . . .  The Urning loves,
deifies his male beloved one, exactly as the woman-wooing man does
HIS beloved.  For him, he is capable of the greatest sacrifice,
experiences the torments of unhappy, often unrequited, love, of
faithlessness on his beloved's part, of jealousy, and so forth.
His attention is enchained only by the male  form . . .  The
sight of feminine charms is indifferent to him, if not repugnant."
Then he goes on to say that many such men, notwithstanding their
actual aversion to intercourse with the female, do ultimately
marry--either from ethical, as sometimes happens, or from social
considerations.  But very remarkable--as illustrating the depth and
tenacity of the homogenic instinct --and
pathetic too, are the records that he gives of these cases; for in
many of them a real friendship and regard between the married pair
was still of no avail to overcome the distaste on the part of one
to sexual intercourse with the other, or to prevent the experience
of actual physical distress after such intercourse, or to check the
continual flow of affection to some third person of the same sex;
and thus unwillingly, so to speak, this bias remained a cause of
suffering to the end.

I have said that at the outset it was assumed that the Homogenic
emotion was morbid in itself, and probably always associated with
distinct disease, either physical or mental, but that the 
progress of the inquiry has served more and more to dissipate this
view; and that it is noticeable that the latest of the purely
scientific authorities are the least disposed to insist upon the
theory of morbidity.  It is true that Krafft-Ebing clings to the
opinion that there is generally some NEUROSIS, or degeneration of a
nerve-centre, or INHERITED TENDENCY IN THAT DIRECTION, associated
with the instinct; see p. 190 (seventh ed.), also p. 227, where he
speaks, rather vaguely, of "an hereditary neuropathic or
psychopathic tendency"--neuro(psycho)pathische Belastung.  But it
is an obvious criticism on this that there are few people in modern
life, perhaps none, who could be pronounced absolutely free from
such a Belastung!  And whether the Dorian Greeks or the Polynesian
Islanders or the Albanian mountaineers, or any of the other notably
hardy races among whom this affection has been developed, were
particularly troubled by nervous degeneration we may well doubt!

As to Moll, though he speaks  of the instinct as morbid (feeling perhaps in
duty bound to do so), it is very noticeable that he abandons the
ground of its association with other morbid symptoms--as 
this association, he says, is by no means always to be observed;
and is fain to rest his judgment on the dictum that the mere
failure of the sexual instinct to propagate the species is itself
pathological--a dictum which in its turn obviously springs from
that pre-judgment of scientists that generation is the sole object
of love,  and which if
pressed would involve the good doctor in awkward dilemmas, as for
instance that every worker-bee is a pathological specimen.

Finally we find that Havelock Ellis, one of the latest writers of
weight on this subject, in chapter vi. of his "Sexual Inversion,"
combats the idea that this temperament is necessarily morbid; and
suggests that the tendency should rather be called an anomaly than
a disease.  He says (2nd edition, p. 186)   "Thus in sexual inversion we have what may
fairly be called a 'sport' or variation, one of those organic
aberrations which we see throughout living nature in plants and in

  With regard to the nerve-degeneration theory, while it may
be allowed that sexual inversion is not uncommonly found in
connection with the specially nervous temperament, it must be
remembered that its occasional association with nervous troubles or
disease is quite another matter; since such troubles ought perhaps
to be looked upon as the results rather than the causes of the
inversion.  It is difficult of course for outsiders not personally
experienced in the matter to realise the great strain and tension
of nerves under which those persons grow up from boyhood to manhood--
or from girl to womanhood--who find their deepest and strongest
instincts under the ban of the society around them; who before they
clearly understand the drift of their own natures discover that
they are somehow cut off from the sympathy and understanding of
those nearest to them; and who know that they can never give
expression to their tenderest yearnings of affection without
exposing themselves to the possible charge of actions stigmatised
as odious crimes.    That such a strain, 
acting on one who is perhaps already of a nervous temperament,
should tend to cause nervous prostration or even mental disturbance
is of course obvious; and if such disturbances are really found to
be commoner among homogenic lovers than among ordinary folk we have
in these social causes probably a sufficient explanation of the

Then again in this connexion it must never be forgotten that the
medico-scientific enquirer is bound on the whole to meet with those
cases that are of a morbid character, rather than with those that
ARE healthy in their manifestation, since indeed it is the former
that he lays himself out for.  And since the field of his research
is usually a great modern city, there is little wonder if disease
colours his conclusions.  In the case of Dr. Moll, who carried out
his researches largely under the guidance of the Berlin police
(whose acquaintance with the subject would naturally be limited to
its least satisfactory sides), the only marvel is that his verdict
is so markedly favourable as it is.  As Krafft-Ebing says in his
own preface, "It is the  sad privilege of Medicine, and
especially of Psychiatry, to look always on the reverse side of
life, on the weakness and wretchedness of man."

Having regard then to the direction in which science has been
steadily moving in this matter, it is not difficult to see that
the epithet "morbid" will probably before long be abandoned as
descriptive of the homogenic bias--that is, of the general
sentiment of love towards a person of the same sex.  That there are
excesses of the passion--cases, as in ordinary sex-love, where mere
physical desire becomes a mania--we may freely admit; but as it
would be unfair to judge of the purity of marriage by the evidence
of the Divorce courts, so it would be monstrous to measure the
truth and beauty of the attachment in question by those instances
which stand most prominently perhaps in the eye of the modern
public; and after all deductions there remains, we contend, the
vast body of cases in which the manifestation of the instinct has
on the whole the character of normality and healthfulness--
sufficiently so in fact to constitute this A DISTINCT VARIETY OF
THE SEXUAL PASSION.  The question, of course, not being whether the
instinct is CAPABLE of morbid and extravagant manifestation--for
that can easily be  proved of any instinct--but whether it
is capable of a healthy and sane expression.  And this, we think,
it has abundantly shown itself to be.

Anyhow the work that Science has practically done has been to
destroy the dogmatic attitude of the former current opinion from
which it itself started, and to leave the whole subject freed from
a great deal of misunderstanding, and much more open than before.
If on the one hand its results have been chiefly of a negative
character, and it admits that it does not understand the exact
place and foundation of this attachment; on the other hand since it
recognises the deeply beneficial influences of an intimate love-
relation of the usual kind on those concerned, it also allows that
there are some persons for whom these necessary reactions can only
come from one of the same sex as themselves.

"Successful love," says Moll (p. 125) "exercises a helpful
influence on the Urning.  His mental and bodily condition improves,
and capacity of work increases--just as it happens in the case
of a normal youth with HIS love."  And further on (p. 173) in a
letter from a man of this kind occur these words:--"The passion
is I suppose so powerful, just because one looks for everything
 in the loved man--Love, Friendship, Ideal, and Sense-
satisfaction. . . .  As it is at present I suffer the agonies of a
deep unresponded passion, which wake me like a nightmare from sleep.
And I am conscious of physical pain in the region of the heart." In
such cases the love, in some degree physically expressed, of another
person of the same sex, is allowed to be as much a necessity and a
condition of healthy life and activity, as in more ordinary cases is
the love of a person of the opposite sex.

If then the physical element which is sometimes present in the love
of which we are speaking is a difficulty and a stumbling-block, it
must be allowed that it is a difficulty that Nature confronts us
with, and which cannot be disposed of by mere anathema and
execration.  The only theory--from K. H. Ulrichs to Havelock Ellis--
which has at all held its ground in this matter, is that in
congenital cases of sex-inversion there is a mixture of male and
female elements in the same person; so that for instance in the
same embryo the emotional and nervous regions may develop along
feminine lines while the outer body and functions may determine
themselves as distinctly masculine, or vice versa.  Such cross-
development may take place obviously  in a great variety of
ways, and thus possibly explain the remarkable varieties of the
Uranian temperament; but in all such cases, strange as may be the
problems thus arising, these problems are of Nature's own producing
and can hardly be laid to the door of the individual who has
literally to bear their cross.  For such individuals expressions of
feeling become natural, which to others seem out of place and
uncalled for; and not only natural, but needful and inevitable.  To
deny to such people ALL expression of their emotion, is probably in
the end to cause it to burst forth with the greater violence; and
it may be suggested that our British code of manners, by forbidding
the lighter marks of affection between youths and men, acts just
contrary to its own purpose, and drives intimacies down into less
open and unexceptionable channels.

With regard to this physical element it must also be remembered
that since the homogenic love--whether between man and man, or
between woman and woman--can from the nature of the case never find
expression on the physical side so freely and completely as is the
case with the ordinary love, it must tend rather more than the
latter to run along EMOTIONAL channels, and  to find its
vent in sympathies of social life and companionship.  If one
studies carefully the expression of the Greek statues (see p. 9,
supra) and the lesson of the Greek literature, one sees clearly
that the IDEAL of Greek life was a very continent one: the trained
male, the athlete, the man temperate and restrained, even chaste,
for the sake of bettering his powers.  It was round this conception
that the Greeks kindled their finer emotions.  And so of their
love: a base and licentious indulgence was not in line with it.
They may not have always kept to their ideal, but there it was.
And I am inclined to think that the homogenic instinct (for the
reasons given above) would in the long run tend to work itself out
in this direction.  And consonant with this is the fact that this
passion in the past (as pointed out by J. Addington Symonds in his
paper on "Dantesque and Platonic Ideals of Love" ) has, as a
matter of fact, inspired such a vast amount of heroism and romance--
only paralleled indeed by the loves of Chivalry, which of course,
owing to their special character, were subject to a similar

In all these matters the popular opinion has  probably been
largely influenced by the arbitrary notion that the function of
love is limited to child-breeding; and that any love not concerned
in the propagation of the race must necessarily be of dubious
character.  And in enforcing this view, no doubt the Hebraic and
Christian tradition has exercised a powerful influence--dating,
as it almost certainly does, from far-back times when the
multiplication of the tribe was one of the first duties of its
members, and one of the first necessities of corporate life.
  But nowadays when the need
has swung round all the other way it is not unreasonable to suppose
that a similar revolution will take place in people's views of the
place and purpose of the non-child-bearing love.  


I have now said enough I think to show that though much in relation
to the homogenic attachment is obscure, and though it may have its
special pitfalls and temptations--making it quite necessary to
guard against a too great latitude  on the physical side;
yet on its ethical and social sides it is pregnant with meaning and
has received at various times in history abundant justification.
It certainly does not seem impossible to suppose that as the
ordinary love has a special function in the propagation of the
race, so the other has its special function in social and heroic
work, and in the generation--not of bodily children--but of those
children of the mind, the philosophical conceptions and ideals
which transform our lives and those of society.  J. Addington
Symonds, in his privately printed pamphlet, "A Problem in Greek
Ethics" (now published in a German translation),  endeavours to reconstruct as it were the genesis
of comrade-love among the Dorians in early Greek times.  Thus:--
"Without sufficiency of women, without the sanctities of
established domestic life, inspired by the memories of Achilles and
venerating their ancestor Herakles, the Dorian warriors had special
opportunity for elevating comradeship to the rank of an enthusiasm.
The incidents of emigration into a foreign country--perils of the
sea, passages of rivers and mountains, assaults of fortresses and
cities, landings on a hostile  shore, night-vigils by the
side of blazing beacons, foragings for food, picquet service in the
front of watchful foes--involved adventures capable of shedding the
lustre of romance on friendship.  These circumstances, by bringing
the virtues of sympathy with the weak, tenderness for the
beautiful, protection for the young, together with corresponding
qualities of gratitude, self-devotion, and admiring attachment into
play, may have tended to cement unions between man and man no less
firm than that of marriage.  On such connections a wise captain
would have relied for giving strength to his battalions, and for
keeping alive the flames of enterprise and daring."  The author
then goes on to suggest that though in such relations as those
indicated the physical probably had some share, yet it did not at
that time overbalance the emotional and spiritual elements, or lead
to the corruption and effeminacy of a later age.

At Sparta the lover was called Eispnlos, the inspirer, and the
younger beloved Ates, the hearer.  This alone would show the
partly educational aspects in which comradeship was conceived; and
a hundred passages from classic literature might be quoted to prove
how deeply  it had entered into the Greek mind that this
love was the cradle of social chivalry and heroic life.  Finally it
seems to have been Plato's favourite doctrine that the relation if
properly conducted led up to the disclosure of true philosophy in
the mind, to the divine vision or mania, and to the remembrance or
rekindling within the soul of all the forms of celestial beauty.
He speaks of this kind of love as causing a "generation in the
beautiful"  within the
souls of the lovers.  The image of the beloved one passing into the
mind of the lover and upward through its deepest recesses reaches
and unites itself to the essential forms of divine beauty there
long hidden--the originals as it were of all creation--and stirring
them to life excites a kind of generative descent of noble thoughts
and impulses, which henceforward modify the whole cast of thought
and life of the one so affected.

If there is any truth--even only a grain or two--in these
speculations, it is easy to see that the love with which we are
specially dealing is a very important factor in society, and that
its neglect, or its repression, or its vulgar misapprehension, may
be matters of considerable danger or damage to  the common-
weal.  It is easy to see that while on the one hand marriage is of
indispensable importance to the State as providing the workshop as
it were for the breeding and rearing of children, another form of
union is almost equally indispensable to supply the basis for
social activities of other kinds.  Every one is conscious that
without a close affectional tie of some kind his life is not
complete, his powers are crippled, and his energies are
inadequately spent.  Yet it is not to be expected (though it may of
course happen) that the man or woman who have dedicated themselves
to each other and to family life should leave the care of their
children and the work they have to do at home in order to perform
social duties of a remote and less obvious, though may be more
arduous, character.  Nor is it to be expected that a man or woman
single-handed, without the counsel of a helpmate in the hour of
difficulty, or his or her love in the hour of need, should feel
equal to these wider activities.  If--to refer once more to classic
story--the love of Harmodius had been for a wife and children at
home, he would probably not have cared, and it would hardly have
been his business, to slay the tyrant.  And unless on the other
hand each of the friends had had the  love of his comrade to
support him, the two could hardly have nerved themselves to this
audacious and ever-memorable exploit.  So it is difficult to
believe that anything can supply the force and liberate the
energies required for social and mental activities of the most
necessary kind so well as a comrade-union which yet leaves the two
lovers free from the responsibilities and impedimenta of family

For if the slaughter of tyrants is not the chief social duty now-a-
days, we have with us hydra-headed monsters at least as numerous as
the tyrants of old, and more difficult to deal with, and requiring
no little courage to encounter.  And beyond the extirpation of
evils we have solid work waiting to be done in the patient and
lifelong building up of new forms of society, new orders of
thought, and new institutions of human solidarity--all of which in
their genesis must meet with opposition, ridicule, hatred, and even
violence.  Such campaigns as these--though different in kind from
those of the Dorian mountaineers described above--will call for
equal hardihood and courage, and will stand in need of a
comradeship as true and valiant.  And it may indeed be doubted
whether the higher heroic and spiritual  life of a nation is
ever quite possible without the sanction of this attachment in its
institutions, adding a new range and scope to the possibilities of

Walt Whitman, the inaugurator, it may almost be said, of a new
world of democratic ideals and literature, and--as one of the best
of our critics has remarked--the most Greek in spirit and in
performance of modern writers, insists continually on this social
function of "intense and loving comradeship, the personal and
passionate attachment of man to man."  "I will make," he says, "the
most splendid race the sun ever shone upon, I will make divine
magnetic lands. . . .  I will make inseparable cities with their
arms about each others' necks, by the love of comrades."  And
again, in "Democratic Vistas," "It is to the development, 
identification, and general prevalence of that fervid comradeship
(the adhesive love at least rivalling the amative love hitherto
possessing imaginative literature, if not going beyond it), that I
look for the counterbalance and offset of materialistic and vulgar
American Democracy, and for the spiritualisation thereof. . . .
I say Democracy infers such loving comradeship, as its most
inevitable twin or counterpart, without which it will be
incomplete, in vain, and incapable of perpetuating itself."

Yet Whitman could not have spoken, as he did, with a kind of
authority on this subject, if he had not been fully aware that
through the masses of the people this attachment was already alive
and working--though doubtless in a somewhat suppressed and un-self-
conscious form--and if he had not had ample knowledge of its
effects and influence in himself and others around him.  Like all
great artists he could but give form and light to that which
already existed dim and inchoate in the heart of the people.  To
those who have dived at all below the surface in this direction it
will be familiar enough that the homogenic passion ramifies widely
through all modern society, and that among the masses of the people
as among the  classes, even below the stolid surface and
reserve of British manners, letters pass and enduring attachments
are formed, differing in no very obvious respect from those
correspondences which persons of opposite sex knit with each other
under similar circumstances; but that hitherto while this relation
has occasionally, in its grosser forms and abuses, come into public
notice through the police reports, etc., its more sane and
spiritual manifestations--though really a moving force in the body
politic--have remained unrecognised.

It is hardly needful in these days when social questions loom so
large upon us to emphasise the importance of a bond which by the
most passionate and lasting compulsion may draw members of the
different classes together, and (as it often seems to do) none the
less strongly because they are members of different classes.  A
moment's consideration must convince us that such a comradeship
may, as Whitman says, have "deepest relations to general politics."
It is noticeable, too, in this deepest relation to politics that
the movement among women towards their own liberation and
emancipation, which is taking place all over the civilised world,
has been accompanied by a marked development of the homogenic  passion among the female sex.  It may be said that a certain
strain in the relations between the opposite sexes which has come
about owing to a growing consciousness among women that they have
been oppressed and unfairly treated by men, and a growing
unwillingness to ally themselves unequally in marriage--that this
strain has caused the womenkind to draw more closely together and
to cement alliances of their own.  But whatever the cause may be,
it is pretty certain that such comrade-alliances--and of quite
devoted kind--are becoming increasingly common, and especially
perhaps among the more cultured classes of women, who are working
out the great cause of their sex's liberation; nor is it difficult
to see the importance of such alliances in such a campaign.  In the
United States where the battle of women's independence is also
being fought, the tendency mentioned is as strongly marked.

A few words may here be said about the legal aspect of this
important question.  It has to be remarked that the present state
of the Law, both in Germany and Britain--arising as it does partly
out of some of the misapprehensions above alluded to, and partly
out of the sheer unwillingness of legislators to discuss the
question--is really  impracticable.  While the Law rightly
seeks to prevent acts of violence or public scandal, it may be
argued that it is going beyond its province when it attempts to
regulate the private and voluntary relations of adult persons to
each other.  The homogenic affection is a valuable social force,
and in some cases a necessary element of noble human character--yet
the Act of 1885 makes almost any familiarity in such cases the
possible basis of a criminal charge.  The Law has no doubt had
substantial ground for previous statutes on this subject--dealing
with a certain gross act; but in so severely condemning the least
familiarity between male persons  we think it has gone too
far.  It has undertaken a censorship over private morals (entirely
apart from social results) which is beyond its province, and which--
even if it were its province--it could not possibly fulfil;  it has opened wider than ever
before the door to a real, most serious social evil and crime--that
of blackmailing; and it  has thrown a shadow over even the
simplest and most ordinary expressions of an attachment which may,
as we have seen, be of great value in the national life.

That the homosexual feeling, like the heterosexual, may lead to
public abuses of liberty and decency; that it needs a strict self-
control; and that much teaching and instruction on the subject is
needed; we of course do not deny.  But as, in the case of persons
of opposite sex, the law limits itself on the whole to a
maintenance of public order, the protection of the weak from
violence and insult,  and of the young from their
inexperience; so we think it should be here.  The much-needed
teaching and the true morality on the subject must be given--as it
can only be given--by the spread of proper education and ideas, and
not by the clumsy bludgeon of the statute-book.  

  Having thus shown the importance of the homogenic or
comrade-attachment, in some form, in national life, it would seem
high time now that the modern peoples should recognise this in
their institutions, and endeavour at least in their public opinion
and systems of education to understand this factor and give it its
proper place.  The undoubted evils which exist in relation to it,
for instance in our public schools as well as in our public life,
owe their existence largely to the fact that the whole subject is
left in the gutter so to speak--in darkness and concealment.  No
one offers a clue of better things, nor to point a way out of the
wilderness; and by this very non-recognition the passion is
perverted into its least satisfactory channels.  All love, one
would say, must have its responsibilities, else it is liable to
degenerate, and to dissipate itself in mere sentiment or
sensuality.  The normal marriage between man and woman leads up to
the foundation of the household and the family; the love between
parents and children implies duties and cares on both sides.  The
homogenic attachment, left unrecognised, easily loses some of its
best quality and becomes an ephemeral or corrupt thing.  Yet, as we
have seen, and as I am pointing out in the  following
chapter, it may, when occurring between an elder and younger, prove
to be an immense educational force; while, as between equals, it
may be turned to social and heroic uses, such as can hardly be
demanded or expected from the ordinary marriage.  It would seem
high time, I say, that public opinion should recognise these facts;
and so give to this attachment the sanction and dignity which arise
from public recognition, as well as the definite form and outline
which would flow from the existence of an accepted ideal or
standard in the matter.  It is often said how necessary for the
morality of the ordinary marriage is some public recognition of the
relation, and some accepted standard of conduct in it.  May not, to
a lesser degree, something of the same kind (as suggested in the
next chapter) be true of the homogenic attachment?  It has had its
place as a recognised and guarded institution in the elder and more
primitive societies; and it seems quite probable that a similar
place will be accorded to it in the societies of the future.



The place of Affection, and the need of it, as an educative force
in school-life, is a subject which is beginning to attract a good
deal of attention.  Hitherto Education has been concentred on
intellectual (and physical) development; but the affections have
been left to take care of themselves.  Now it is beginning to be
seen that the affections have an immense deal to say in the
building up of the brain and the body.  Their evolution and
organisation in some degree is probably going to become an
important part of school management.

School friendships of course exist; and almost every one remembers
that they filled a large place in the outlook of his early years;
but he remembers, too, that they were not recognised in any way,
and that in consequence the main part of their force and value was
wasted.  Yet it is  evident that the first unfolding of a
strong attachment in boyhood or girlhood must have a profound
influence; while if it occurs between an elder and a younger school-
mate, or--as sometimes happens--between the young thing and its
teacher, its importance in the educational sense can hardly be

That such feelings sometimes take quite intense and romantic forms
few will deny.  I have before me a letter, in which the author,
speaking of an attachment he experienced when a boy of sixteen for
a youth somewhat older than himself, says:--

"I would have died for him ten times over.  My devices and
plannings to meet him (to come across him casually, as it were)
were those of a lad for his sweetheart, and when I saw him my heart
beat so violently that it caught my breath, and I could not speak.
We met in ----, and for the weeks that he stayed there I thought of
nothing else--thought of him night and day--and when he returned to
London I used to write him weekly letters, veritable love-letters
of many sheets in length.  Yet I never felt one particle of
jealousy, though our friendship lasted for some years.  The
passion, violent and extravagant as it was, I believe to have been
perfectly free from sex-feeling and perfectly wholesome and good
for me.  It distinctly contributed to my growth.    Looking
back upon it and analysing it as well as I can, I seem to see as
the chief element in it an escape from the extremely narrow
Puritanism in which I was reared, into a large sunny ingenuous
nature which knew nothing at all of the bondage of which I was
beginning to be acutely conscious."

Shelley in his fragmentary "Essay on Friendship" speaks in the most
glowing terms of an attachment he formed at school, and so does
Leigh Hunt in his "Autobiography."  Says the latter:--

"If I had reaped no other benefit from Christ Hospital, the school
would be ever dear to me from the recollection of the friendships I
formed in it, and of the first heavenly taste it gave me of that
most spiritual of the affections. . . .  I shall never forget the
impression it made on me.  I loved my friend for his gentleness,
his candour, his truth, his good repute, his freedom even from my
own livelier manner, his calm and reasonable kindness. . . .  I
doubt whether he ever had a conception of a tithe of the regard and
respect I entertained for him, and I smile to think of the
perplexity (though he never showed it) which he probably felt
sometimes at my enthusiastic expressions; for I thought him a kind
of angel."

It is not necessary, however, to quote  authorities on such
a subject as this.    Any one who has had experience of schoolboys knows well
enough that they are capable of forming these romantic and devoted
attachments, and that their alliances are often of the kind
especially referred to as having a bearing on education--i.e.,
between an elder and a younger.  They are genuine attractions, free
as a rule, and at their inception, from secondary motives.  They
are not formed by the elder one for any personal ends.  More often,
indeed, I think they are begun by the younger, who naively allows
his admiration of the elder one to become visible.  But they are
absorbing and intense, and on either side their influence is deeply
felt and long remembered.

That such attachments MAY be of the very greatest value is self-
evident.  The younger boy looks on the other as a hero, loves to be
with him, thrills with pleasure at his words of praise or kindness,
imitates, and makes him his pattern and standard, learns exercises
and games, contracts habits, or picks up information from him.  The
elder one, touched, becomes protector and helper; the unselfish
side of his nature is drawn out, and he develops a real affection
and tenderness  towards the younger.  He takes all sorts of
trouble to initiate his protg in field sports or studies; is
proud of the latter's success; and leads him on perhaps later to
share his own ideals of life and thought and work.

Sometimes the alliance will begin, in a corresponding way, from the
side of the elder boy.  Sometimes, as said, between a boy and a
master such an attachment, or the germ of it, is found; and indeed
it is difficult to say what gulf, or difference of age, or culture,
or class in society, is so great that affection of this kind will
not on occasion overpass it.  I have by me a letter which was
written by a boy of eleven or twelve to a young man of twenty-four
or twenty-five.  The boy was rather a wild, "naughty" boy, and had
given his parents (working-class folk) a good deal of trouble.  He
attended, however, some sort of night-school or evening class and
there conceived the strongest affection (evidenced by this letter)
for his teacher, the young man in question, quite spontaneously,
and without any attempt on the part of the latter to elicit it; and
(which was equally important) without any attempt on his part to
deny it.  The result was most favourable; the one force which could
really reach the boy  had, as it were, been found; and he
developed rapidly and well.

The following extract is from a letter written by an elderly man
who has had large experience as a teacher.  He says--

"It has always seemed to me that the rapport that exists between
two human beings, whether of the same or of different sexes, is a
force not sufficiently recognised, and capable of producing great
results.  Plato fully understood its importance, and aimed at
giving what to his countrymen was more or less sensual, a noble
and exalted direction. . . .  As one who has had much to do in
instructing boys and starting them in life, I am convinced that the
great secret of being a good teacher consists in the possibility of
that rapport; not only of a merely intellectual nature, but
involving a certain physical clement, a personal affection, almost
indescribable, that grows up between pupil and teacher, and through
which thoughts are shared and an influence created that could exist
in no other way."

And it must be evident to every one that to the expanding mind of a
small boy to have a relation of real affection with some sensible
and helpful elder of his own sex must be a priceless boon.  At that
age love to the other sex has hardly  declared itself, and
indeed is not exactly what is wanted.  The unformed mind requires
an ideal of itself, as it were, to which it can cling or towards
which it can grow.  Yet it is equally evident that the relation and
the success of it, will depend immensely on the character of the
elder one, on the self-restraint and tenderness of which he is
capable, and on the ideal of life which he has in his mind.  That,
possibly, is the reason why Greek custom, at least in the early
days of Hellas, not only recognised friendships between elder and
younger youths as a national institution of great importance, but
laid down very distinct laws or rules concerning the conduct of
them, so as to be a guide and a help to the elder in what was
acknowledged to be a position of responsibility.

In Crete, for instance,  the friendship was entered into in
quite a formal and public way, with the understanding and consent
of relatives; the position of the elder was clearly defined, and it
became his business to train and exercise the younger in skill of
arms, the chase, etc.; while the latter could obtain redress at law
if the elder subjected him to insult or injury of any kind.  At
 the end of a certain period of probation, if the younger
desired it he could leave his comrade; if not, he became his squire
or henchman--the elder being bound to furnish his military
equipments--and they fought thenceforward side by side in battle,
"inspired with double valour, according to the notions of the
Cretans, by the gods of war and love."    Similar
customs prevailed in Sparta, and, in a less defined way, in other
Greek states; as, indeed, they have prevailed among many semi-
barbaric races on the threshold of civilisation.

When, however, we turn to modern life and the actual situation, as
for instance in the public schools of to-day, it may well be
objected that we find very little of the suggested ideal, but
rather an appalling descent into the most uninspiring conditions.
So far from friendship being an institution whose value is
recognised and understood, it is at best scantily acknowledged, and
is often actually discountenanced and misunderstood.  And though
attachments such as we have portrayed exist, they exist underground,
as it were, at their peril, and half-stifled in an atmosphere which
can only be described as that of the  gutter.  Somehow the
disease of premature sexuality seems to have got possession of our
centres of education; wretched practices and habits abound, and
(what is perhaps their worst feature) cloud and degrade the boys'
conception of what true love or friendship may be.

To those who are familiar with large public schools the state of
affairs does not need describing.  A friend (who has placed some
notes at my disposal) says that in his time a certain well-known
public school was a mass of uncleanness, incontinence, and dirty
conversation, while at the same time a great deal of genuine
affection, even to heroism, was shown among the boys in their
relations with one another.  But "all these things were treated by
masters and boys alike as more or less unholy, with the result that
they were either sought after or flung aside according to the
sexual or emotional instinct of the boy.  No attempt was made at
discrimination.  A kiss was by comparison as unclean as the act of
fellatio, and no one had any gauge or principle whatever on which
to guide the cravings of boyhood."  The writer then goes into
details which it is not necessary to reproduce here.  He (and
others) were initiated in the mysteries of sex by the dormitory
 servant; and the boys thus corrupted mishandled each other.

Naturally in any such atmosphere as this the chances AGAINST the
formation of a decent and healthy attachment are very large.  If
the elder youth happen to be given to sensuality he has here his
opportunity; if on the other hand he is NOT given to it, the ideas
current around probably have the effect of making him suspect his
own affection, and he ends by smothering and disowning the best
part of his nature.  In both ways harm is done.  The big boys in
such places become either coarse and licentious or hard and self-
righteous; the small boys, instead of being educated and
strengthened by the elder ones, become effeminate little wretches,
the favourites, the petted boys, and the "spoons" of the school.
As time goes on the public opinion of the school ceases to believe
in the possibility of a healthy friendship; the masters begin to
presume (and not without reason) that all affection means sensual
practices, and end by doing their best to discourage it.

Now this state of affairs is really desperate.  There is no need to
be puritanical, or to look upon the lapses of boyhood as
unpardonable  sins; indeed, it may be allowed, as far as
that goes, that a little frivolity is better than hardness and self-
righteousness; yet every one feels, and must feel, who knows
anything about the matter, that the state of our schools is bad.

And it is so because, after all, purity (in the sense of
continence) IS of the first importance to boyhood.  To prolong the
period of continence in a boy's life is to prolong the period of
GROWTH.  This is a simple physiological law, and a very obvious
one; and whatever other things may be said in favour of purity, it
remains perhaps the most weighty.  To introduce sensual and sexual
habits--and one of the worst of these is self-abuse--at an early
age, is to arrest growth, both physical and mental.

And what is even more, it means to arrest the capacity for
affection.  I believe affection, attachment--whether to the one sex
or the other--springs up normally in the youthful mind in a quite
diffused, ideal, emotional form--a kind of longing and amazement as
at something divine--with no definite thought or distinct
consciousness of sex in it.  The sentiment expands and fills, as it
were like a rising tide, every cranny of the emotional and moral
nature; and the  longer (of course within reasonable limits)
its definite outlet towards sex is deferred, the longer does this
period of emotional growth and development continue, and the
greater is the refinement and breadth and strength of character
resulting.  All experience shows that a too early outlet towards
sex cheapens and weakens affectional capacity.

Yet this early outlet it is which is the great trouble of our
public schools.  And it really does not seem unlikely that the
peculiar character of the middle-class man of to-day, his
undeveloped affectional nature and something of brutishness and
woodenness, is largely due to the prevalent condition of the places
of his education.  The Greeks, with their wonderful instinct of
fitness, seem to have perceived the right path in all this matter;
and, while encouraging friendship, as we have seen, made a great
point of modesty in early life--the guardians and teachers of every
well-born boy being especially called upon to watch over the
sobriety of his habits and manners.  

  We have then in education generally, it seems to me (and
whether of boys or of girls), two great currents to deal with,
which cannot be ignored, and which certainly ought to be candidly
recognized and given their right direction.  One of these currents
is that of friendship.  The other is that of the young thing's
natural curiosity about sex.  The latter is of course, or should
be, a perfectly legitimate interest.  A boy at puberty naturally
wants to know--and ought to know--what is taking place, and what
the uses and functions of his body are.  He does not go very deep
into things; a small amount of information will probably satisfy
him; but the curiosity is there, and it is pretty certain that the
boy, if he is a boy of any sense or character, WILL in some shape
or another get to satisfy it.

The process is really a MENTAL one.  Desire--except in some
abnormal cases--has not manifested itself strongly; and there is
often, perhaps generally, an actual repugnance at first to anything
like sexual practices; but the wish for information exists and is,
I say, legitimate enough.    In almost all human
societies except,  curiously, the modern nations, there have
been institutions for the initiation of the youth of either sex
into these matters, and these initiations have generally been
associated, in the opening blossom of the young mind, with
inculcation of the ideals of manhood and womanhood, courage,
hardihood, and the duties of the citizen or the soldier.  

But what does the modern school do?  It shuts a trap-door down on
the whole matter.  There is a hush; a grim silence.  Legitimate
curiosity soon becomes illegitimate of its kind; and a furtive
desire creeps in, where there was no desire before.  The method of
the gutter prevails.  In the absence of any recognition of
schoolboy needs, contraband information is smuggled from one to
another; chaff and "smut" take the place of sensible and decent
explanations; unhealthy practices follow; the sacredness of sex
goes its way, never to return, and the school is filled with
premature and morbid talk and thought about  a subject which
should, by rights, only just be rising over the mental horizon.

The meeting of these two currents, of ideal attachment and sexual
desire, constitutes a rather critical period, even when it takes
place in the normal way--i.e., later on, and at the matrimonial
age.  Under the most favourable conditions a certain conflict
occurs in the mind at their first encounter.  But in the modern
school this conflict, precipitated far too soon, and accompanied by
an artificial suppression of the nobler current and a premature
hastening of the baser one, ends in simple disaster to the former.
Masters wage war against incontinence, and are right to do so.  But
how do they wage it?  As said, by grim silence and fury, by driving
the abscess deeper, by covering the drain over, AND by confusing
when it comes before them--both in their own minds and those of the
boys--a real attachment with that which they condemn.

Not long ago the head-master of a large public school coming
suddenly out of his study chanced upon two boys embracing each
other in the corridor.  Possibly, and even probably, it was the
simple and natural expression of an unsophisticated attachment.
Certainly, it was nothing that  in itself could be said to
be either right or wrong.  What did he do?  He haled the two boys
into his study, gave them a long lecture on the nefariousness of
their conduct, with copious hints that he knew WHAT SUCH THINGS
MEANT, and WHAT THEY LED TO, and ended by punishing both condignly.
Could anything be more foolish?  If their friendship was clean and
natural, the master was only trying to make them feel that it was
unclean and unnatural, and that a lovely and honourable thing was
disgraceful; if the act was--which at least is improbable--a mere
signal of lust--even then the best thing would have been to assume
that it was honourable, and by talking to the boys, either together
or separately, to try and inspire them with a better ideal; while
if, between these positions, the master really thought the
affection though honourable would lead to things undesirable, then,
plainly, to punish the two was only to cement their love for each
other, to give them a strong reason for concealing it, and to
hasten its onward course.  Yet every one knows that this is the
KIND of way in which the subject is treated in schools.  It is the
method of despair.  And masters (perhaps not unnaturally) finding
that they have not the time which would be  needed for
personal dealing with each boy, nor the forces at their command by
which they might hope to introduce new ideals of life and conduct
into their little community, and feeling thus utterly unable to
cope with the situation, allow themselves to drift into a policy of
mere silence with regard to it, tempered by outbreaks of ungoverned
and unreasoning severity.

I venture to think that school-masters will never successfully
solve the difficulty until they boldly recognize the two needs in
question, and proceed candidly to give them their proper

The need of information--the legitimate curiosity--of boys (and
girls) must be met, (1) partly by classes on physiology, (2) partly
by private talks and confidences between elder and younger, based
on friendship.  With regard to (1) classes of this kind are
already, happily, being carried on at a few advanced schools, and
with good results.  And though such classes can only go rather
generally into the facts of motherhood and generation they cannot
fail, if well managed, to impress the young minds, and give them a
far grander and more reverent conception of the matter than they
usually gain.

But (2) although some rudimentary teaching  on sex and
lessons in physiology may be given in classes, it is obvious that
further instruction and indeed any real help in the conduct of life
and morals can only come through very close and tender confidences
between the elder and the younger, such as exist where there is a
strong friendship to begin with.  It is obvious that effective help
CAN only come in this way, and that this is the only way in which
it is desirable that it should come.  The elder friend in this case
would, one might say, naturally be, and in many instances may be,
the parent, mother or father--who ought certainly to be able to
impress on the clinging child the sacredness of the relation.  And
it is much to be hoped that parents will see their way to take this
part more freely in the future.  But for some unexplained reason
there is certainly often a gulf of reserve between the (British)
parent and child; and the boy who is much at school comes more
under the influence of his elder companions than his parents.  If,
therefore, boys and youths cannot be trusted and encouraged to form
decent and loving friendships with each other, and with their
elders or juniors--in which many delicate questions could be
discussed and the tradition of sensible and manly  conduct
with regard to sex handed down--we are indeed in a bad plight and
involved in a vicious circle from which escape seems difficult.

And so (we think) the need of attachment must also be met by full
recognition of it, and the granting of it expression within all
reasonable limits; by the dissemination of a good ideal of
friendship and the enlistment of it on the side of manliness and
temperance.  Is it too much to hope that schools will in time
recognise comradeship as a regular institution--considerably more
important, say, than "fagging"--an institution having its definite
place in the school life, in the games and in the studies, with its
own duties, responsibilities, privileges, etc., and serving to
ramify through the little community, hold it together, and inspire
its members with the two qualities of heroism and tenderness, which
together form the basis of all great character?

But here it must be said that if we are hoping for any great change
in the conduct of our large boys' schools, the so-called public
schools are not the places in which to look for it--or at any rate
for its inception.  In the first place these institutions are
hampered by powerful traditions which naturally make them
conservative; and in the  second place their mere size and
the number of boys make them difficult to deal with or to modify.
The masters are overwhelmed with work; and the (necessary) division
of so many boys into separate "houses" has this effect that a
master who introduces a better tradition into his own house has
always the prospect before him that his work will be effaced by the
continual and perhaps contaminating contact with the boys from the
other houses.  No, it will be in smaller schools, say of from 50 to
100 boys, where the personal influence of the headmaster will be a
real force reaching each boy, and where he will be really able to
mould the tradition of the school, that we shall alone be able to
look for an improved state of affairs.  

  No doubt the first steps in any reform of this kind are
difficult; but masters are greatly hampered by the confusion in the
public mind, to which we have already alluded--which so often
persists in setting down any attachment between two boys, or
between a boy and his teacher, to nothing but sensuality.  Many
masters quite understand the situation, but feel themselves
helpless in the face of public opinion.  Who so fit (they sometimes
feel) to enlighten a young boy and guide his growing mind as one of
themselves, when the bond of attachment exists between the two?
Like the writer of a letter quoted in the early part of this paper
they believe that "a personal affection, almost indescribable,
grows up between pupil and teacher, through which thoughts are
shared and an influence created that could exist in no other way."
Yet when the pupil comes along of whom all this might be true, who
shows by his pleading looks the sentiment which animates him, and
the profound impression which he is longing, as it were, to receive
from his teacher, the latter belies himself, denies his own
 instinct and the boy's great need, and treats him distantly
and with coldness.  And why?  Simply because he dreads, even while
he desires it, the boy's confidence.  He fears the ingenuous and
perfectly natural expression of the boy's affection in caress or
embrace, because he knows how a bastard public opinion will
interpret, or misinterpret it; and rather than run such a risk as
this he seals the fountains of the heart, withholds the help which
love alone can give, and deliberately nips the tender bud which is
turning to him for light and warmth.  

The panic terror which prevails in England with regard to the
expression of affection of this kind has its comic aspect.  The
affection exists, and is known to exist, on all sides; but we must
bury our heads in the sand and pretend not to see it.  And if by
any chance we are compelled to recognize it, we must show our vast
discernment by SUSPECTING it.  And thus we fling on the dust-heap
one of the noblest and most precious elements in human nature.
Certainly, if the denial and suspicion of all natural affection
were beneficial, we  should find this out in our schools;
but seeing how complete is its failure there to clarify their tone
it is sufficiently evident that the method itself is wrong.

                         * * * * * *

The remarks in this paper have chiefly had reference to boys'
schools; but they apply in the main to girls' schools, where much
the same troubles prevail--with this difference, that in girls'
schools friendships instead of being repressed are rather
encouraged by public opinion; only unfortunately they are for the
most part friendships of a weak and sentimental turn, and not very
healthy either in themselves or in the habits they lead to.  Here
too, in girls' schools, the whole subject wants facing out;
friendship wants setting on a more solid and less sentimental
basis; and on the subject of sex, so infinitely important to women,
there needs to be sensible and consistent teaching, both public and
private.  Possibly the co-education of boys and girls may be of use
in making boys less ashamed of their feelings, and girls more
healthy in the expression of them.

At any rate the more the matter is thought of, the clearer I
believe will it appear that a healthy affection must in the end be
the basis of education,  and that the recognition of this
will form the only way out of the modern school-difficulty.  It is
true that such a change would revolutionise our school-life; but it
will have to come, all the same, and no doubt will come pari passu
with other changes that are taking place in society at large.



Whatever differing views there may be on the many problems which
the Intermediate sexes present--and however difficult of solution
some of the questions involved--there is one thing which appears to
me incontestable: namely that a vast number of intermediates do
actually perform most valuable social work, and that they do so
partly on account and by reason of their special temperament.

This fact is not generally recognised as it ought to be, for the
simple reason that the Uranian himself is not recognised, and
indeed (as we have already said) tends to conceal his temperament
from the public.  There is no doubt that if it became widely known
WHO ARE the Uranians, the world would be astonished to find so many
of its great or leading men among them.

  I have thought it might be useful to indicate some of the
lines along which valuable work is being performed, or has been
performed, by people of this disposition; and in doing this I do
not of course mean to disguise or conceal the fact that there are
numbers of merely frivolous, or feeble or even vicious homosexuals,
who practically do no useful work for society at all--JUST AS THERE
ARE OF NORMAL PEOPLE.  The existence of those who do no valuable
work does not alter the fact of the existence of others whose work
is of great importance.  And I wish also to make it clearly
understood that I use the word Uranians to indicate simply those
whose lives and activities are inspired by a genuine friendship or
love for their own sex, without venturing to specify their
individual and particular habits or relations towards those whom
they love (which relations in most cases we have no means of
knowing).  Some Intermediates of light and leading--doubtless not a
few--are physically very reserved and continent; others are sensual
in some degree or other.  The point is that they are all men, or
women, whose most powerful motive comes from the dedication to
their own kind, and is bound up with it in some way.  And if it
seems strange and anomalous that  in such cases work of
considerable importance to society is being done by people whose
affections and dispositions society itself would blame, this is
after all no more than has happened a thousand times before in the
history of the world.

As I have already hinted, the Uranian temperament (probably from
the very fact of its dual nature and the swift and constant
interaction between its masculine and feminine elements) is
exceedingly sensitive and emotional; and there is no doubt that,
going with this, a large number of the artist class, musical,
literary or pictorial, belong to this description.  That delicate
and subtle sympathy with every wave and phase of feeling which
makes the artist possible is also very characteristic of the
Uranian (the male type), and makes it easy or natural for the
Uranian man to become an artist.  In the "confessions" and "cases"
collected by Krafft-Ebing, Havelock Ellis and others, it is
remarkable what a large percentage of men of this temperament
belong to the artist class.  In his volume on "Sexual Inversion,"

speaking of the cases collected by himself, Ellis says:--"An
examination of my cases reveals the interesting fact that thirty-
two of them, or sixty-eight per  cent., possess artistic
aptitude in varying degree.  Galton found, from the investigation
of nearly one thousand persons, that the general average showing
artistic taste in England is only about thirty per cent.  It must
also be said that my figures are probably below the truth, as no
special point was made of investigating the matter, and also that
in many of my cases the artistic aptitudes are of high order.  With
regard to the special avocations of my cases, it must of course be
said that no occupation furnishes a safeguard against inversion.
There are, however, certain occupations to which inverts are
specially attracted.  Acting is certainly one of the chief of
these.  Three of my cases belong to the dramatic profession, and
others have marked dramatic ability.  Art, again, in its various
forms, and music, exercise much attraction.  In my experience,
however, literature is the avocation to which inverts seem to feel
chiefly called, and that moreover in which they may find the
highest degree of success and reputation.  At least half-a-dozen of
my cases are successful men of letters."

Of Literature in this connection, and of the great writers of the
world whose work has been partly inspired by the Uranian love, I
have  myself already spoken.    It may
further be said that those of the modern artist-writers and poets
who have done the greatest service in the way of interpreting and
reconstructing Greek life and ideals--men like Winckelmann, Goethe,
Addington Symonds, Walter Pater--have had a marked strain of this
temperament in them.  And this has been a service of great value,
and one which the world could ill have afforded to lose.

The painters and sculptors, especially of the renaissance period in
Italy, yield not a few examples of men whose work has been
similarly inspired--as in the cases of Michel Angelo, Leonardo,
Bazzi, Cellini, and others.  As to music, this is certainly the art
which in its subtlety and tenderness--and perhaps in a certain
inclination to INDULGE in emotion--lies nearest to the Urning
nature.  There are few in fact of this nature who have not some
gift in the direction of music--though, unless we cite Tschaikowsky,
it does not appear that any thorough-going Uranian has attained to
the highest eminence in this art.

Another direction along which the temperament very naturally finds
an outlet is the important  social work of Education.  The
capacity that a man has, in cases, of devoting himself to the
welfare of boys or youths, is clearly a thing which ought not to go
wasted--and which may be most precious and valuable.  It is
incontestable that a great number of men (and women) are drawn into
the teaching profession by this sentiment--and the work they do is,
in many cases, beyond estimation.  Fortunate the boy who meets with
such a helper in early life!  I know a man--a rising and vigorous
thinker and writer--who tells me that he owes almost everything
mentally to such a friend of his boyhood, who took the greatest
interest in him, saw him almost every day for many years, and
indeed cleared up for him not only things mental but things moral,
giving him the affection and guidance his young heart needed.  And
I have myself known and watched not a few such teachers, in public
schools and in private schools, and seen something of the work and
of the real inspiration they have been to boys under them.
Hampered as they have been by the readiness of the world to
misinterpret, they still have been able to do most precious
service.  Of course here and there a case occurs in which privilege
is abused; but  even then the judgment of the world is
often unreasonably severe.  A poor boy once told me with tears in
his eyes of the work a man had done for him.  This man had saved
the boy from drunken parents, taken him from the slums, and by
means of a club helped him out into the world.  Many other boys he
had rescued, it appeared, in the same way--scores and scores of
them.  But on some occasion or other he got into trouble, and was
accused of improper familiarities.  No excuse, or record of a
useful life, was of the least avail.  Every trumpery slander was
believed, every mean motive imputed, and he had to throw up his
position and settle elsewhere, his life-work shattered, never to be

The capacity for sincere affection which causes an elder man to
care so deeply for the welfare of a youth or boy, is met and
responded to by a similar capacity in the young thing of devotion
to an elder man.  This fact is not always recognised; but I have
known cases of boys and even young men who would feel the most
romantic attachments to quite mature men, sometimes as much as
forty or fifty years of age, and only for them--passing by their
own contemporaries of either sex, and caring only to win a return
 affection from these others.  This may seem strange, but
it is true.  And the fact not only makes one understand what
riddles there are slumbering in the breasts of our children, but
how greatly important it is that we should try to read them--since
here, in such cases as these, the finding of an answering heart in
an elder man would probably be the younger one's salvation.

How much of the enormous amount of philanthropic work done in the
present day--by women among needy or destitute girls of all sorts,
or by men among like classes of boys--is inspired by the same
feeling, it would be hard to say; but it must be a very considerable
proportion.  I think myself that the best philanthropic work--just
because it is the most personal, the most loving, and the least
merely formal and self-righteous--has a strong fibre of the Uranian
heart running through it; and if it should be said that work of this
very personal kind is more liable to dangers and difficulties on
that account, it is only what is true of the best in almost all

Eros is a great leveller.  Perhaps the true Democracy rests, more
firmly than anywhere else, on a sentiment which easily passes the
bounds  of class and caste, and unites in the closest
affection the most estranged ranks of society.  It is noticeable
how often Uranians of good position and breeding are drawn to
rougher types, as of manual workers, and frequently very permanent
alliances grow up in this way, which although not publicly
acknowledged have a decided influence on social institutions,
customs and political tendencies--and which would have a good deal
more influence could they be given a little more scope and
recognition.  There are cases that I have known (although the
ordinary commercial world might hardly believe it) of employers who
have managed to attach their workmen, or many of them, very
personally to themselves, and whose object in running their
businesses was at least as much to provide their employees with a
living as themselves; while the latter, feeling this, have
responded with their best output.  It is possible that something
like the guilds and fraternities of the middle ages might thus be
reconstructed, but on a more intimate and personal basis than in
those days; and indeed there are not wanting signs that such a
reconstruction is actually taking place.

The "Letters of Love and Labour" written by  Samuel M.
Jones of Toledo, Ohio, to his workmen in the engineering firm of
which he was master, are very interesting in this connection.  They
breathe a spirit of extraordinary personal affection towards, and
confidence in, the employees, which was heartily responded to
by the latter; and the whole business was carried on, with
considerable success, on the principle of a close and friendly co-
operation all round.  

These things indeed suggest to one that it is possible that the
Uranian spirit may lead to something like a general enthusiasm of
Humanity, and that the Uranian people may be destined to form the
advance guard of that great movement which will one day transform
the common life by substituting the bond of personal affection and
compassion for the monetary, legal and other external ties which
now control and confine society.  Such a part of course we cannot
expect the Uranians to play unless the capacity for their kind of
attachment also exists--though in a germinal and undeveloped state--
in the breast of mankind at large.  And modern thought and
 investigation are clearly tending that way--to confirm
that it does so exist.

Dr. E. Bertz in his late study of Whitman as a person of strongly
homogenic temperament  brings forward the objection
that Whitman's gospel of Comradeship as a means of social
regeneration is founded on a false basis--because (so Dr. Bertz
says) the gospel derives from an abnormality in himself, and
therefore cannot possibly have a universal application or create a
general enthusiasm.  But this is rather a case of assuming the
point which has to be proved.  Whitman constantly maintains that
his own disposition at any rate is normal, and that he represents
the average man.  And it MAY be true, even as far as his Uranian
temperament is concerned, that while this was specially developed
in him the germs of it ARE almost, if not quite, universal.  If so,
then the Comradeship on which Whitman founds a large portion of his
message may in course of time become a general enthusiasm, and the
nobler Uranians of to-day may be destined, as suggested, to be its
pioneers and advance guard.  As one of them himself has sung:--

     These things shall be!  A loftier race,
       Than e'er the world hath known, shall rise
     With flame of freedom in their souls,
       And light of science in their eyes.
     Nation with nation, land with land,
       In-armed shall live as comrades free;
     In every heart and brain shall throb
       The pulse of one fraternity.

To proceed.  The Uranian, though generally high-strung and
sensitive, is by no means always dreamy.  He is sometimes
extraordinarily and unexpectedly practical; and such a man may, and
often does, command a positive enthusiasm among his subordinates in
a business organisation.  The same is true of military organisation.
As a rule the Uranian temperament (in the male) is not militant.
War with its horrors and savagery is somewhat alien to the type.
But here again there are exceptions; and in all times there have
been great generals (like Alexander, Csar, Charles XII. of Sweden,
or Frederick II. of Prussia--not to speak of more modern examples)
with a powerful strain in them of the homogenic nature, and a
wonderful capacity for organisation and command, which combined with
their personal interest in, or attachment to, their troops, 
and the answering enthusiasm so elicited, have made their armies
well-nigh invincible.

The existence of this great practical ability in some Uranians
cannot be denied; and it points to the important work they may some
day have to do in social reconstruction.  At the same time I think
it is noticeable that POLITICS (at any rate in the modern sense of
the word, as concerned mainly with party questions and party
government) is not as a rule congenial to them.  The personal and
affectional element is perhaps too remote or absent.  Mere "views"
and "questions" and party strife are alien to the Uranian man, as
they are on the whole to the ordinary woman.

If politics, however, are not particularly congenial, it is yet
remarkable how many royal personages have been decidedly homogenic
in temperament.  Taking the Kings of England from the Norman
Conquest to the present day, we may count about thirty.  And three
of these, namely, William Rufus, Edward II., and James I. were
homosexual in a marked degree--might fairly be classed as Urnings--
while some others, like William III., had a strong admixture of the
same temperament.  Three out of thirty yields a high ratio--ten per
cent--and considering that  sovereigns do not generally
choose themselves, but come into their position by accident of
birth, the ratio is certainly remarkable.  Does it suggest that the
general percentage in the world at large is equally high, but that
it remains unnoticed, except in the fierce light that beats upon
thrones? or is there some other explanation with regard to the
special liability of royalty to inversion?  Hereditary degeneracy
has sometimes been suggested.  But it is difficult to explain the
matter even on this theory; for though the epithet "degenerate"
might possibly apply to James I., it would certainly not be
applicable to William Rufus and William III., who, in their
different ways, were both men of great courage and personal force--
while Edward II. was by no means wanting in ability.

But while the Uranian temperament has, in cases, specially fitted
its possessors to become distinguished in art or education or war
or administration, and enabled them to do valuable work in these
fields; it remains perhaps true that above all it has fitted them,
and fits them, for distinction and service in affairs of the heart.

It is hard to imagine human beings more skilled in these matters
than are the Intermediates.  For  indeed no one else can
possibly respond to and understand, as they do, all the
fluctuations and interactions of the masculine and feminine in
human life.  The pretensive coyness and passivity of women, the
rude invasiveness of men; lust, brutality, secret tears, the
bleeding heart; renunciation, motherhood, finesse, romance, angelic
devotion--all these things lie slumbering in the Uranian soul,
ready on occasion for expression; and if they are not always
expressed are always there for purposes of divination or
interpretation.  There are few situations, in fact, in courtship or
marriage which the Uranian does not instinctively understand; and
it is strange to see how even an unlettered person of this type
will often read Love's manuscript easily in cases where the normal
man or woman is groping over it like a child in the dark.  [Not of
course that this means to imply any superiority of CHARACTER in the
former; but merely that with his double outlook he necessarily
discerns things which the other misses.]

That the Uranians do stand out as helpers and guides, not only in
matters of Education, but in affairs of love and marriage, is
tolerably patent to all who know them.  It is a common experience
 for them to be consulted now by the man, now by the woman,
whose matrimonial conditions are uncongenial or disastrous--not
generally because the consultants in the least perceive the Uranian
nature, but because they instinctively feel that here is a strong
sympathy with and understanding of their side of the question.  In
this way it is often the fate of the Uranian, himself unrecognised,
to bring about happier times and a better comprehension of each
other among those with whom he may have to deal.  Also he often
becomes the confidant of young things of either sex, who are caught
in the tangles of love or passion, and know not where to turn for

I say that I think perhaps of all the services the Uranian may
render to society it will be found some day that in this direction
of solving the problems of affection and of the heart he will do
the greatest service.  If the day is coming as we have suggested--
when Love is at last to take its rightful place as the binding and
directing force of society (instead of the Cash-nexus), and society
is to be transmuted in consequence to a higher form, then
undoubtedly the superior types of Uranians--prepared for this
service by long experience and devotion, as well as by much
 suffering--will have an important part to play in the
transformation.  For that the Urnings in their own lives put Love
before everything else--postponing to it the other motives like
money-making, business success, fame, which occupy so much space in
most people's careers--is a fact which is patent to everyone who
knows them.  This may be saying little or nothing in favour of
those of this class whose conception of love is only of a poor and
frivolous sort; but in the case of those others who see the god in
his true light, the fact that they serve him in singleness of heart
and so unremittingly raises them at once into the position of the
natural leaders of mankind.

From this fact--i.e., that these folk think so much of affairs of
the heart--and from the fact that their alliances and friendships
are formed and carried on beneath the surface of society, as it
were, and therefore to some extent beyond the inquisitions and
supervisions of Mrs. Grundy, some interesting conclusions flow.

For one thing, the question is constantly arising as to how Society
would shape itself if FREE: what form, in matters of Love and
Marriage, it would take, if the present restrictions and sanctions
were removed or greatly altered.  At present in  these
matters, the Law, the Church, and a strong pressure of public
opinion interfere, compelling the observance of certain forms; and
it becomes difficult to say how much of the existing order is due
to the spontaneous instinct and common sense of human nature, and
how much to mere outside compulsion and interference: how far, for
instance, Monogamy is natural or artificial; to what degree
marriages would be permanent if the Law did not make them so; what
is the rational view of Divorce; whether jealousy is a necessary
accompaniment of Love; and so forth.  These are questions which are
being constantly discussed, without finality; or not infrequently
with quite pessimistic conclusions.

Now in the Urning societies a certain freedom (though not complete,
of course) exists.  Underneath the surface of general Society, and
consequently unaffected to any great degree by its laws and
customs, alliances are formed and maintained, or modified or
broken, more in accord with inner need than with outer pressure.
Thus it happens that in these societies there are such opportunities
to note and observe human grouping under conditions of freedom, as
do not occur in the ordinary world.  And the results are both
interesting and  encouraging.  As a rule I think it may be
said that the alliances are remarkably permanent.  Instead of the
wild "general post" which so many good people seem to expect in the
event of law being relaxed, one finds (except of course in a few
individual cases) that common sense and fidelity and a strong
tendency to permanence prevail.  In the ordinary world so far has
doubt gone that many to-day disbelieve in a life-long free marriage.
Yet among the Uranians such a thing is, one may almost say, common
and well known; and there are certainly few among them who do not
believe in its possibility.

Great have been the debates, in all times and places, concerning
Jealousy; and as to how far jealousy is natural and instinctive and
universal, and how far it is the product of social opinion and the
property sense, and so on.  In ordinary marriage what may be called
social and proprietary jealousy is undoubtedly a very great factor.
But this kind of jealousy hardly appears or operates in the Urning
societies.  Thus we have an opportunity in these latter of
observing conditions where only the natural and instinctive
jealousy exists.  This of course is present among the Urnings--
sometimes rampant and violent,  sometimes quiescent and
vanishing almost to nil.  It seems to depend almost entirely upon
the individual; and we certainly learn that jealousy, though
frequent and widespread, is not an absolutely necessary
accompaniment of love.  There are cases of Uranians (whether men or
women) who, though permanently allied, do not object to lesser
friendships on either side--and there are cases of very decided
objection.  And we may conclude that something the same would be
true (is true) of the ordinary Marriage, the property considerations
and the property jealousy being once removed.  The tendency anyhow
to establish a dual relation more or less fixed, is seen to be very
strong among the Intermediates, and may be concluded to be equally
strong among the more normal folk.

Again with regard to Prostitution.  That there are a few natural-
born prostitutes is seen in the Urning-societies; but prostitution
in that world does not take the important place which it does in
the normal world, partly because the law-bound compulsory marriage
does not exist there, and partly because prostitution naturally has
little chance and cannot compete in a world where alliances are
free and there is an open field for  friendship.  Hence we
may see that freedom of alliance and of marriage in the ordinary
world will probably lead to the great diminution or even
disappearance of Prostitution.

In these and other ways the experience of the Uranian world forming
itself freely and not subject to outside laws and institutions
comes as a guide--and really a hopeful guide--towards the future.
I would say however that in making these remarks about certain
conclusions which we are able to gather from some spontaneous and
comparatively unrestricted associations, I do not at all mean to
argue AGAINST institutions and forms.  I think that the Uranian
love undoubtedly suffers from want of a recognition and a standard.
And though it may at present be better off than if subject to a
foolish and meddlesome regulation; yet in the future it will have
its more or less fixed standards and ideals, like the normal love.
If one considers for a moment how the ordinary relations of the
sexes would suffer were there no generally acknowledged codes of
honour and conduct with regard to them, one then indeed sees that
reasonable forms and institutions are a help, and one may almost
wonder that the Urning  circles are so well-conducted on
the whole as they are.

I have said that the Urning men in their own lives put love before
money-making, business success, fame, and other motives which rule
the normal man.  I am sure that it is also true of them as a whole
that they put love before lust.  I do not feel SURE that this can
be said of the normal man, at any rate in the present stage of
evolution.  It is doubtful whether on the whole the merely physical
attraction is not the stronger motive with the latter type.
Unwilling as the world at large is to credit what I am about to
say, and great as are the current misunderstandings on the subject,
I believe it is true that the Uranian men are superior to the
normal men in this respect--in respect of their love-feeling--which
is gentler, more sympathetic, more considerate, more a matter of
the heart and less one of mere physical satisfaction than that of
ordinary men.    All this flows
naturally from the presence of the feminine element in them, and
its blending with the rest of their nature.  It should be expected
a priori, and it can be noticed at once by those who have any
acquaintance with the Urning  world.  Much of the current
misunderstanding with regard to the character and habits of the
Urning arises from his confusion with the ordinary rou who, though
of normal temperament, contracts homosexual habits out of curiosity
and so forth--but this is a point which I have touched on before,
and which ought now to be sufficiently clear.  If it be once
allowed that the love-nature of the Uranian is of a sincere and
essentially humane and kindly type then the importance of the
Uranian's place in Society, and of the social work he may be able
to do, must certainly also be acknowledged.


"In this country [Britain] we have too long, from a sense of mock
modesty, neglected the science relating to sex.  In Germany this is
not so.  There we find workers who have elaborated for themselves a
new science, and who have given to the world knowledge which is of
the very utmost importance.  We now know that there are females
with strong male characteristics and vice-versa.  Anatomically and
mentally we find all shades existing from the pure genus man to the
pure genus woman.  Thus there has been constituted what is well
named by an illustrious exponent of the science 'The Third Sex'."--
Dr. JAMES BURNET, The Medical Times and Hospital Gazette, vol.
xxxiv., No. 1497, 10th November, 1906.  London.


"Every citizen of age to fulfil his duties as a citizen, whether he
be a father or husband, teacher or pupil, master or servant,
official or subordinate, has the right, and owes it as a duty, to
know the facts of sexual inversion, to combat and to prevent
debauchery, crime and vice, to learn and to teach others the place
of inversion in Society, and its morals, the duties of the 
invert towards himself, and towards other inverts, towards the
normal man, and towards women and children.  And the duties of the
normal man towards the invert are no less--no less difficult, no
less indispensable."--M. A. RAFFALOVICH, "Uranisme et Unisexualit."
Paris, 1896.


"That sex inversion is not a chance phenomenon . . . appears from
the fact that it has been observed at all times and in all places,
and among peoples quite separate from each other."--A. MOLL, "Die
Kontrre Sexualempfindung," 2nd Edition, p. 15.  Berlin, 1893.


"Concerning the wide prevalence of sexual inversion, and of
homosexual phenomena generally, there can be no manner of doubt.
In Berlin, Moll states that he has himself seen between six hundred
and seven hundred homosexual persons, and heard of some two hundred
and fifty to three hundred others.  I have much evidence as to its
frequency both in England and the United States.  In England,
concerning which I can naturally speak with most assurance, its
manifestations are well-marked for those whose eyes have been
opened. . . .  Among the professional and most cultured element of
the middle class in England there must be a distinct percentage of
inverts, which may sometimes be as much as five per cent., though
such estimates must always be hazardous.  Among women of the same
class the percentage seems to be at least double--though here the
phenomena are less definite and deep-seated."--HAVELOCK ELLIS,
"Psychology of  Sex," vol. Sexual Inversion, pp. 29, 30.
Philadelphia, 1901.


"According to the information of De Joux in 'The Disinherited of
Love,' the number of Urnings in all Europe is about five millions;
about 4.5 per cent. of all males in Europe are Urnings, while only
0.1 per cent. of females are Urningins.  A malady therefore--if
malady it should be called--which is so widespread certainly
demands our deepest interest; and it is strange that it is only
since the '70's that this subject has been discussed in scientific

"It is owing to this ignorance that the public mind has been
dominated, and still is dominated, by the prejudice, that psychical
hermaphroditism and sex-inversion are nothing but crimes, wilful
crimes, whereas they proceed necessarily out of the inborn nature
of such individuals."--NORBERT GRABOWSKY, "Die verkehrte
Geschlechtsempfindung," p. 16.  Leipzig, 1894.


Dr. HIRSCHFELD, in his "Statistischen Untersuchunge ber den
Prozentensatz der Homosexuellen," gives the result of various
statistical investigations on this subject; and their remarkable
agreement enables him to speak with some confidence.  He says (p.
41), "Now we KNOW that we must reckon the numbers of those who vary
from the normal, not by fractions of thousands but by fractions of
hundreds.  The fact that, as a result of these various enquiries
and commissions about the same figure has emerged (for the
proportion of exclusively homosexual persons), namely, a figure in
the neighbourhood of 1 1/2 per cent.--this  extraordinary
agreement cannot possibly be a chance, but must rest on a law--a
law of nature--namely, that only 90 to 95 per cent. of mankind are
normally sexual by birth; that about 1 1/2 to 2 per cent. are born
pure homosexuals (say about 1,000,000 in Germany); and that between
the two classes there remain some 4 per cent. who are bisexual by

And again (p. 60), "But what do these figures show?  They show that
of 100,000 inhabitants on the average only 94,600 are sexually
normal, while 5,400 vary from the normal.  Of these latter 1,500
are exclusively homosexual, and 3,900 bisexual.  While of these
last again 700 are PREDOMINANTLY homosexual; so that of 100,000
Germans, 2,200 (or 2.2 per cent.) are either exclusively or
predominantly homosexual--making 1,200,000 for the whole German


"Sexual inversion has usually been regarded as psycho-pathological,
as a symptom of degeneration; and those who exhibit it have been
considered as physically unfit.  This view, however, is falling
into disrepute, especially as Krafft-Ebing, its principal champion,
abandoned it in the later editions of his work.  None the less, it
is not generally recognised that sexual inverts may be otherwise
perfectly healthy, and with regard to other social matters quite
normal.  When they have been asked if they would have wished
matters to be different with them in this respect, they almost
invariably answer in the negative."--O. WEININGER, "Sex and
Character," ch. iv. Heinemann, London, 1906.


"It is a common belief that a male who experiences love for his own
sex must be despicable, degraded, depraved, vicious, and incapable
of humane or generous sentiments.  If Greek history did not
contradict this supposition, a little patient enquiry into
contemporary manners would suffice to remove it."--J. ADDINGTON
SYMONDS, "A Problem in Modern Ethics," p. 10.


"Mantegazza rightly insists that Urnings are found by no means only
among the dregs of the people, but that they are rather to be noted
in circles which in respect of culture, wealth, and social position
rank among the first.  Thus, among the aristocracy without doubt a
great number of Urnings are to be found."--A. MOLL, op. cit., p.


"In no rank are there so many Urnings as among servants.  One may
say that every third male domestic is an Urning."--DE JOUX, "Die
Enterbten des Liebesglckes," p. 193.  Leipzig, 1893.


"It is therefore certain, as we have seen, that many Urnings come
from nervous or pathologically disposed families. . . .  All the
same, I must say that there is no proof to hand in ALL cases of sex-
inversion among men, that the individuals concerned are thus
hereditarily weighted.  And besides, there is the consideration
that the extension, according to some authors, of hereditary
trouble is at present so great that one may  prove a
tendency to nervous or mental maladies in almost everybody."--A.
MOLL, op. cit., p. 221.


"The truth is that we can no more explain the inverted sex-feeling
than we can the normal impulse; all attempts at explanation of
these things, and of Love, are defective."--Ibid, p. 253.


"Among the PENCHANTS of Urnings one finds not infrequently a great
partiality for Art and Music--and indeed, for active interest in
the same as well as passive enjoyment. . . .  the Actor's talent
is especially noticeable among some . . .  But it must not be
thought that Urnings are only capable of a special activity of the
imagination.  On the contrary, there are undoubted cases in which
they contribute something in the scientific direction . . .  Also
in Poetry do Urnings occasionally show exceptional talent;
especially in love-verses addressed to men."--Ibid, p. 80.


"An examination of my cases [of Inverts] reveals the interesting
fact that 68 per cent. possess artistic aptitude in varying degree.
Galton found, from the investigation of nearly 1,000 persons, that
the average showing artistic tastes in England is only about 30 per
cent."--HAVELOCK ELLIS, "Sexual Inversion," p. 173.


"In Antiquity, especially among the Greeks, there seem to have been
numbers of men who in their emotional natures were hermaphrodites.
I think that the study of psychical hermaphrodisy is most 
important, and will throw yet greater light on the psychology of
Love itself.  Observation so far already shows that the same
individual at differing times can experience quite different sexual
feelings."--A. MOLL, op. cit., p. 200.


"The Urning is capable, through the force of his love, of making
the greatest sacrifices for his beloved, and on that account the
love of the Urning has been often compared with Woman's love.  Just
as the Woman's love is stronger and more devoted than that of the
normal man, just as it exceeds that of the Man in inwardness, so,
according to Ulrichs should the Urning's love in this respect stand
higher than that of the woman-loving Man."--Ibid, p. 118.


"Womanish men often know how to treat women better than manly men
do.  Manly men, except in most rare cases, learn how to deal with
women only after long experience, and even then most imperfectly."--
O. WEININGER, "Sex and Character," ch. v.


"Is it really the case that all women and men are marked off
sharply from each other, the women on the one hand alike in all
points, the men on the other? . . .  There are transitional forms
between the metals and non-metals, between chemical combinations
and simple mixtures, between animals and plants, between
phanerogams and cryptogams, and between mammals and birds . . .
The improbability may henceforth be taken for granted of finding in
Nature a sharp  cleavage between all that is masculine on
the one side and all that is feminine on the other; or that any
living being is so simple in this respect that it can be put wholly
on one side, or wholly on the other, of the line."--WEININGER,
Ibid, introduction, p. 2.


"Upon this, Chron made a rather strange observation.  'We have,'
she said, 'with regard to sexual distinctions, notions that were
not dreamed of by the primitive simplicity of the people of the age
now gone by.  From the fact that there are two sexes, and only two,
they for a long time drew false inferences.  They concluded that a
woman is simply a woman, and a man simply a man.  In reality this
is not so; there are women who are very much women, and women who
are very little so.  Such differences, concealed in former times by
costume and mode of life, and masked by prejudice, stand out
clearly in our society.  And not only so, but they become more
accentuated and apparent in each generation.'"--ANATOLE FRANCE,
"Sur la Pierre Blanche," p. 301.


"In EVERY human being there are present both male and female
elements, only in normal persons (according to their sex) the one
set of elements is more greatly developed than the other.  The
chief difference in the case of homosexual persons is that in them
the male and female elements are more equalized; so that when, in
addition, the general development is of a high grade, we find among
this class the most perfect types of humanity."--Dr. ARDUIN, "Die
Frauenfrage,"  in Jahrbuch der Sexuellen Zwischenstufen,
vol. ii., p. 217.  Leipzig, 1900.


"The notion that human beings were originally hermaphroditic is
both ancient and widespread.  We find it in the book of Genesis,
unless indeed there be a confusion here between two separate
theories of creation.  God is said to have first made man in His
image, male and female in one body, and to have bidden them
multiply.  Later on He created the woman out of part of this
primitive man."  (See also the myth related by Aristophanes in
Plato's Symposium.)--HAVELOCK ELLIS, "Sexual Inversion," p. 229.


"When the sexual instinct first appears in early youth, it seems to
be much less specialised than normally it becomes later.  Not only
is it, at the outset, less definitely directed to a specific sexual
end, but even the sex of its object is sometimes uncertain."  Ibid,
p. 44.


"In me the homosexual nature is singularly complete, and is
undoubtedly congenital.  The most intense delight of my childhood
(even when a tiny boy in my nurse's charge) was to watch acrobats
and riders at the circus.  This was not so much for the skilful
feats as on account of the beauty of their persons.  Even then I
cared chiefly for the more lithe and graceful fellows.  People told
me that circus actors were wicked and would steal little boys, and
so I came to look on my favourites as half-devil and half-angel.
When I was  older and could go about alone, I would often
hang around the tents of travelling shows in hope of catching a
glimpse of the actors.  I longed to see them naked, without their
tights, and used to lie awake at night, thinking of them and
longing to be embraced and loved by them."--Ibid, "case" ix.,
p. 62.


"I was fifteen years and ten-and-a-half months old when the first
erotic dream announced the arrival of puberty.  I had had no
previous experience of sex-satisfaction, either in the Urning
direction or in any other.  This occurrence therefore came about
quite normally.  From a much earlier time, however, I had been
subject partly to tender yearnings and partly to sensual longing
without definite form and purpose--the two emotions being always
separate from each other and never experienced for one and the same
young man.  These aimless sensual longings plagued me often in
hours of solitude; and I could not overcome them.  They showed
themselves first, during my fifteenth year, when I was at school at
Detmold, in the following two ways:--First, they were awakened by a
drawing in Normand's 'Salenordnungen,' of the figure of a Greek
god or hero, standing there in naked beauty.  This image, a hundred
times put away, came again a hundred times before my mind.  (I need
not say it did not CAUSE the Urning temperament in me; it merely
awoke what was slumbering there already--a thing that any other
circumstance might have done.)  Secondly, when studying in my
little room, or when I lay upon my bed before going  to
sleep, the thought used suddenly and irresistibly to rise up in my
mind--'If only a soldier would clamber through the window and come
into my room!'  Then my imagination painted me a splendid soldier-
figure of twenty to twenty-two years old; and I was, as it were,
all on fire.  And yet my thoughts were quite vague, and undirected
to any definite satisfaction; nor had I ever spoken a word with a
real soldier."--K. H. ULRICHS, "Memnon,"  77.  Leipzig, 1898.  See
also "A Problem in Modern Ethics," p. 73.


"The friendships of this kind which I formed at School were two in
number--I shall never forget the absorbing depth and intensity of
them.  I never talked about them to anyone else, they were much too
sacred and serious for that, nor--strange as it may seem--did I
ever speak of them to the boys themselves, or indeed, show any
signs of affection towards them.  If they had been told that I was
devoted to their welfare, and willing to sacrifice myself and all I
had to it (which was indeed the fact) they would have been simply
astonished; more especially as they were both young boys not yet
arrived at puberty.

"I am at present somewhat bitterly conscious that in these cases
one of the strongest influences for good that ever came into my
life was nine-tenths wasted.  How much better it all might have
been under more favourable surroundings it is impossible to
imagine.  Still, it was not without its good influence on me,
though (owing to their complete ignorance of my feelings) it could
have had none whatever on the boys.   I was conscious of a
bracing and inspiring effect on my whole nature, a confirmed health
of body, and most of all, of a greatly increased capacity for work.
And doubtless all this might have been intensified a thousand fold
if I had been ever so little guided and encouraged by public
opinion sanctioning these friendships.

"The Public School boy has after all strong feelings of honour and
fairness: and I am sure much might be done by cultivating the
Public Opinion of the school: making devoted and disinterested
friendships highly thought of and praised, and condemning as base
and mean the least attempt to befoul a young boy's purity through a
gross and selfish desire for personal gratification.  School public
opinion would, I am sure, tend quite readily to flow in such
channels.  But this would demand an openness of treatment of the
whole question such as does not at present exist.  That the
greatest force the schoolmaster has at his command should be so
ignored (and so needlessly) is more than absurd: it is monstrous.
And it concerns him as a teacher quite as much as the boys
themselves in their relations with each other.  I believe that
gaining a boy's affection is the necessary preliminary to really
TEACHING him anything.  Otherwise you do not really teach him at
all."--Private letter.


"I could tell you a good deal of another equally strong friendship
I formed (myself twenty-five, boy fourteen) which was one of the
happiest events of my life.  It was acknowledged on both sides, but
perfectly  restrained and pure: and we saw a great deal of
each other during most of the school holidays for about a year.  I
could have done anything with that boy, my influence over him was
for the time being I should say unlimited: and undoubtedly IMMENSE
good accrued to us both."--Ibid.


"In my own school-life--as a day scholar--I had two such
friendships, though of course in a day school there was not the
same possibility of their development.  One was with an elder boy
some five years my senior, and the other with a master some twelve
years older than myself.  I was a shy, timid youngster, and not
having a robust physique did not enter much into the ordinary
athletics of the school.  My elder friend was a very delicate,
gentle, refined boy with a purity and loftiness of mind in striking
contrast to the filthy moral atmosphere of the school at that time,
but he was never censorious or self-righteous.  I feel that this
friendship was the most powerful influence in my early life in
keeping a high ideal of conduct before me--much more powerful than
the influence of home, which I do not think I was at all conscious

"After he left school, for Cambridge, we used to write regularly to
one another--long letters, hardly ever less than three sheets in
length.  I remember I used to think him the most handsome man I
knew, but looking now at his photo taken about that time and
comparing it with others, I see that his features were inferior to
many others of my school-fellows.    At the end of his
second year he died of consumption.  It was during the Long
Vacation, and I was abroad at the time.  I remember I used to sit
up late into the night writing very long letters to him about all I
had seen, to interest him during his illness.  I did not know how
ill he really was, but I had a terrible fear that I should not see
him again.  When I got back and found he had just died the shock
was awful.  For weeks I felt as if I had not a friend in the whole
world.  I have never felt any loss so keenly either before or
since. . . .

"The other friendship with my mathematical master, though not so
intimate, was still of a very affectionate character.  I feel I
owe a great deal to it--he laid the foundation of my ideal of a
teacher's duty to his pupils."--Private letter.


"It is not new in itself; this, the feeling that drew Jesus to
John, or Shakespeare to the youth of the sonnets, or that inspired
the friendships of Greece, has been with us before, and in the new
citizenship we shall need it again.  The Whitmanic love of comrades
is its modern expression; Democracy--as socially, not politically
conceived--its basis.  The thought as to how much of the solidarity
of labour and the modern Trade-Union movement may be due to an
unconscious faith in this principle of comradeship, is no idle one.
The freer, more direct, and more genuine relationship between men,
which is implied by it, must be the ultimate basis of the
reconstructed  Workshop."--C. R. ASHBEE, "Workshop
Reconstruction and Citizenship," p. 160.


A case of passionate attachment between two Indian boys was told to
the author of the present book by a master at a school in India.
The boys--who were about sixteen years of age--were both at the
same school, and were devoted friends; but the day came when they
had to part.  One was taken away by his parents to go to a distant
part of the country.  The other was inconsolable at the prospect.
When the day arrived, and his companion was removed, he soon after
went quietly to a well in the school precincts, jumped in, and was
drowned.  The news, sent on by wire, reached the departing friend
while still on his journey.  He said little, but at one of the
stations left the train and disappeared.  The train went on, but at
a little distance out, the boy ran out of the bushes by the line,
threw himself on the rails, and was killed.


The following is taken from one of the "cases" recorded by Havelock
Ellis in his "Sexual Inversion":  "The earliest sex-impression that
I am conscious of is at the age of nine or ten falling in love with
a handsome boy who must have been about two years my senior.  I do
not recollect ever having spoken to him, but my desire, as far as I
can recall, was that he should seize hold of and handle me.  I have
a distinct impression yet of how pleasurable even physical pain or
cruelty would have been at his hands."--HAVELOCK ELLIS, op. cit.,
"case" xiii., p. 71.


"When I was about sixteen-and-a-half years old, there came into the
house a boy about two years younger than myself, who became the
absorbing thought of my school-days.  I do not remember a moment,
from the time I first saw him to the time I left school, that I was
not in love with him, and the affection was reciprocated, if
somewhat reservedly.  He was always a little ahead of me in books
and scholarship, but as our affection ripened we spent most of our
spare time together, and he received my advances much as a girl who
is being wooed, a little mockingly perhaps, but with real pleasure.
He allowed me to fondle and caress him, but our intimacy never went
further than a kiss, and about that even was the slur of shame;
there was always a barrier between us, and we never so much as
whispered to one another concerning those things of which all the
school obscenely talked."--Same case, p. 73.


"At the age of twenty-one I began gradually to remark that I was
somehow not like my comrades, that I had no pleasure in male
occupations, that smoking, drinking, and card-playing gave me
little satisfaction, and that I had a real death-horror of a
brothel.  And as a matter of fact, I had never been in one, as on
every occasion under some pretext or other I have succeeded in
stealing off.  I now began to think about myself; I felt myself
frightfully desolate, miserable and unfortunate, and longed for a
friend of the same nature as myself--yet without dreaming that
there could be other such men.  At the age of twenty-two  I
came to know a young man who at last cleared up my mind about
sexual inversion and those affected with it, since he--an Urning,
like myself--had fallen in love with me.  The scales fell from my
eyes, and I bless the day which brought light to me. . . .  Towards
woman in her sexual relation I feel a real horror, which the
exercise of all my strongest powers of imagination would not avail
to overcome; and indeed, I have never attempted to overcome it,
since I am quite persuaded of the fruitlessness of such an attempt,
which to me appears sinful and unnatural."--KRAFFT-EBING,
"Psychopathia Sexualis," 7th edition, "case" No. 122, p. 291.
Stuttgart, 1892.


"I can no longer exist without men's love; without such I must ever
remain at strife with myself. . . .  If marriage between men
existed I believe I should not be afraid of a lifelong union--a
thing which with a woman seems to be something impossible. . . .
Since, however, this kind of love is reckoned criminal, by its
satisfaction I can be at harmony with myself but never with the
world, and necessarily in consequence must ever be somewhat out of
tune; and all the more so because my character is open, and I hate
lies of all kinds.  This torment, to have always to conceal
everything, has forced me to confess my anomaly to a few friends,
of whose understanding and reticence I am sure.  Although
oftentimes my condition seems to me sad enough, by reason of the
difficulty of satisfaction and the general contempt of manly love,
yet I am often just a little proud on account of having 
these anomalous feelings.  Naturally, I shall never marry--but this
seems to me by no means a misfortune, although I am fond of family
life, and up to now have passed my time only among my own
relations.  I live in the hope that later I shall have a permanent
loved one; such indeed I must have, else would the future seem gray
and drear, and every object which folk usually pursue--honour, high
position, etc.--only vain and unattractive.

"Should this hope not be fulfilled, I know that I should be unable,
permanently and with pleasure, to give myself to my calling, and
that I should be capable of setting aside everything in order to
gain the love of a man.  I feel no longer any moral scruples on
account of my anomalous leaning, and generally have never been
troubled because I felt myself drawn to youths. . . .  Up to now it
has only seemed to me bad and immoral to do that which is injurious
to another, or which I would not wish done to myself, and in this
respect I can say that I try as much as possible not to infringe on
the rights of others, and am capable of being violently roused by
any injustice done to others."--Ibid, p. 249, "case" No. 110
(official in a factory, age 31).


"My thoughts are by no means exclusively of the body or morbidly
sensual.  How often at the sight of a handsome youth does a deeply
enthusiastic mood come upon me, and I offer a prayer, so to speak,
in the glorious words of Heine--'Du bist wie eine  Blume,
so hold, so schn, so rein'. . . .  Never has a young man yet
guessed my love for him, I have never corrupted or damaged the
morals of one, but for many have I here and there smoothed their
pathway; and then I stick at no trouble and make sacrifices such as
I can only make for them.

"When thus I have a chance to have a loved friend near me, to
teach, to support and help, when my unconfest love finds a loving
response (though naturally not sexual), then all the unclean images
fade more and more from my mind.  Then does my love become almost
platonic, and lifts itself up--only to sink again in the mire, when
it is deprived of its proper activity.  "For the rest, I am--and I
can say it without boasting--not one of the worst of men.  Mentally
more sensitive than most average folk, I take interest in
everything that moves mankind.  I am kindly-disposed, tender, and
easily moved to pity, can do no injury to any animal, certainly not
to a human being, but on the contrary am active in a human-friendly
way, where and however I can.

"Though then before my own conscience I cannot reproach myself, and
though I must certainly reject the judgment of the world about us,
yet I suffer greatly.  In very truth I have injured no one; and I
hold my love in its nobler activity for just as holy as that of
normally disposed men, but under the unhappy fate that allows us
neither sufferance nor recognition, I suffer often more than my
life can bear."--Ibid, p. 268, "case" No. 114.


"To depict all the misery, all the unfortunate situations, the
constant dread of being found out in one's peculiarity and of
becoming impossible in society--to give an idea of all this is
truly more than pen or words can compass.  The very thought, so
soon as it arises, of losing one's social existence and of being
rejected by everybody is more torment than can be imagined.  In
such a case, everything, everything would be forgotten that one had
ever done in the way of good; in the consciousness of his lofty
morality every normally disposed man would puff himself up, however
frivolously he might really have acted in the matter of his love.
I know many such normal folk whose unworthy conception of their
love is indeed hard for me to understand."--Ibid, p. 269.


"The torturing images of betrayed love prevent my sleeping, so that
I am forced, now and again, to have recourse to chloral.  My dreams
are only a continuation of actual life, and just as painful.  How
all this will end I really know not; but I suppose these root-
emotions must take their own course . . .  The only reasonable end
of the struggle is Death."--A. MOLL, "Contrre Sexualempfindung,"
2nd edition, p. 123 (quotation from a letter).


"Weary and worn, I have passed through every tempest of anguish and
despair.  Years of the most racking mental agony have gone over my
head without killing me.  Through the long night watches I have
heard the unceasing hours toll.  Sleep has never been 
thought of by me, but I have lain on my bed trying to read some
book, or have knelt by my bedside and endeavoured to raise my heart
and spirit in prayer for succour or forgiveness.  At last, unable
to hold out any longer, with mouth tight-closed and knitted brow
the Charmer has deadened my senses for one or two brief hours; but
only that I may wake to a stronger and clearer perception of my
hopeless condition.

"How the days have got on I know not.  How I can have lived so long
through such misery I know not.  But torture like this is cruelly
slow, whilst it is sure.  It is the nature of youth to be long-
enduring where Love is put to the test and a kind of occasional
flicker--a kind of mocking semblance of hope, as like to hope as
the rushing meteor is to the enduring sun--helps to support the
load of misery, and so to prolong it.  I am hundreds of years old
in this my wretchedness of every moment.  I cannot battle against
Love and crush it out--never!  God has implanted the necessity of
the sentiment in my heart; it is scarce possible not to ask oneself
why has He implanted so divine an element in my nature, which is
doomed to die unsatisfied, which is destined in the end to be my
very death?"--From a manuscript left to the Author by an Urning.


H. ELLIS, in Appendix D. of his book on "Sexual Inversion," speaks
at some length on the School-friendships of girls: what they call
"Flames" and "Raves"; of love at first sight; romance; courtship;
meetings despite all obstacles; long letters; jealousy; 
the writing the beloved's name everywhere, etc.  These alliances
are sometimes sexual, but oftener not so--though full of "psychic


In the same Appendix he quotes a woman of thirty-three, who writes,
"At fourteen I had my first case of love, but it was with a girl.
It was insane, intense love, but had the same quality and
sensations as my first love with a man at eighteen.  In neither
case was the object idealized: I was perfectly aware of their
faults; nevertheless, my whole being was lost, immersed, in their
existence.  The first lasted two years, the second seven years.  No
love has since been so intense, but now these two persons, though
living, are no more to me than the veriest stranger."


Another woman of thirty-five writes, "Girls between the ages of
fourteen and eighteen at college or girls' schools often fall in
love with the same sex.  This is not friendship.  The loved one is
older, more advanced, more charming or beautiful.  When I was a
freshman in college I knew at least thirty girls who were in love
with a senior.  Some sought her because it was the fashion, but I
knew that my own homage and that of many others was sincere and
passionate.  I loved her because she was brilliant and utterly
indifferent to the love shown her.  She was not pretty, though at
the time we thought her beautiful.  One of her adorers, on being
slighted, was ill for two weeks.  On her return she was speaking to
me when the object of our admiration came into the room.  The shock
was too great,  and she fainted.  When I reached the senior
year I was the recipient of languishing glances, original verses,
roses, and passionate letters written at midnight and three in the


"Passionate friendships among girls, from the most innocent to the
most elaborate excursions in the direction of Lesbos, are extremely
common in theatres, both among actresses, and even more among
chorus and ballet-girls."--HAVELOCK ELLIS, "Sexual Inversion,"
p. 130.


"The love of homosexual women is often very passionate, as is that
of Urnings.  Just like these, the former often feel themselves
blessed when they love happily.  Nevertheless, to many of them, as
to the Urning, is the circumstance very painful that in consequence
of their antipathy to the touch of the male they are not in the
position to found a family.  Sometimes, when the love of a
homosexual woman is not responded to, serious disturbances of the
nerve-system may ensue, leading even to paroxysms of fury."--
A. MOLL, op. cit., p. 338.


"It is noteworthy how many inverted women have, with more or less
fraud, been married to the woman of their choice, the couple living
happily together for long periods.  I know of one case, probably
unique, in which the ceremony was gone through without any
deception on any side; a congenitally inverted English woman of
distinguished intellectual ability, now dead, was attached to the
wife of a clergyman, who, in full  cognisance of all the
facts of the case, privately married the two ladies in his own
church."--HAVELOCK ELLIS, op. cit., p. 146, footnote.


"Seven or eight girls, we are told (in Montaigne's 'Journal du
Voyage en Italie,' 1350), belonging to Chaumont, resolved to dress
and to work as men; one of these came to Vitry to work as a weaver,
and was looked upon as a well-conditioned young man, and liked by
everyone.  At Vitry she became betrothed to a woman, but, a quarrel
arising, no marriage took place.  Afterwards, 'she fell in love
with a woman whom she married, and with whom she lived for four or
five months, to the wife's great contentment, it is said; but
having been recognised by some one from Chaumont, and brought to
justice, she was condemned to be hanged.  She said she would even
prefer this to living again as a girl, and was hanged for using
illicit inventions to supply the defects of her sex'."--Ibid,
p. 119.


"It is evident that there must be some radical causes for the
frequency of homosexuality among prostitutes.  One such cause
doubtless lies in the character of the prostitute's relations with
men; these relations are of a professional character, and, as the
business element becomes emphasized, the possibility of sexual
satisfaction diminishes; at the best also there lacks the sense of
social equality, the feeling of possession, and scope for the
exercise of feminine affection and devotion."--Ibid, p. 149.


"Among the inscribed prostitutes of Berlin there are without doubt
a great number who honour the love of women.  I am told from well-
informed sources, that about twenty-five per cent. of the
prostitutes of Berlin have relations with other women."--A. MOLL,
op. cit., p. 331.


"Karl Heinrich Ulrichs (born in 1825 near Aurich), who for many
years expounded and defended homosexual love, and whose views are
said to have had some influence in drawing Westphal's attention to
the matter, was a Hanoverian legal official (Amtsassessor), himself
sexually inverted.  From 1864 onward, at first under the name of
'Numa Numantius,' and subsequently under his own name, Ulrichs
published in various parts of Germany a long series of works
dealing with this question, and made various attempts to obtain a
revision of the legal position of the sexual invert in Germany.

"Although not a writer whose psychological views can carry much
scientific weight, Ulrichs appears to have been a man of most
brilliant ability, and his knowledge is said to have been of almost
universal extent; he was not only well-versed in his own special
subjects of jurisprudence and theology, but in many branches of
natural science, as well as in archology; he was also regarded by
many as the best Latinist of his time.  In 1880 he left Germany and
settled in Naples, and afterwards at Aquila in the Abruzzi, whence
he issued a Latin periodical.  He died in 1895."--HAVELOCK ELLIS,
op. cit., p. 33.


Ulrichs enters into an elaborate classification of human types,
with a corresponding nomenclature, which, though somewhat
ponderous, has been of use.  Among males, for instance, he
distinguishes the quite normal man, whom he calls "Dioning," from
the invert, whom he calls "Urning."  Among Urnings, again, he
distinguishes (1) those who are thoroughly manly in appearance and
in mental habit and character ("Mannlings"), and who tend to love
softer and younger specimens of their own sex; (2) those who are
effeminate in appearance and cast of mind ("Weiblings"), and who
love rougher and older men; and (3) those who are of a medium type
("Zwischen-Urnings") and love young men.  Then again there is the
"Urano-Dioning," who is born with a capacity of love in both
directions, i.e., for women and for men.  He is generally of the
manly type.  And besides these, some sub-species, like the
"Uraniaster," who is a normal man who has contracted the Urning
habit, and the "Virilised Urning," who is an Urning who has
contracted the normal habit, though this is not really natural to
him!  The whole may be set out in a table as follows:--

The Human Male:
  (a) Normal Man or Dioning--called Uraniaster when he acquires
        Urning tendencies.
  (b) Urning:
     1.  Mannling.
     2.  Zwischen-Urning.
     3.  Weibling.
     4.  Also called Virilised Urning when he acquires the normal
  (c) Urano-Dioning.

  If we add to this a corresponding table for the female
we shall have an idea of the complication of Ulrichs' system!  Yet,
complex as it is, and whatever criticisms we may make upon it, we
must allow that it does not exceed the complexity of the real facts
of Nature.  (See K. H. ULRICHS' "Memnon," ch. ii.-v.)


Krafft-Ebing's analysis of the subject is fully as elaborate as
that of Ulrichs.  It is given by J. A. SYMONDS in the form of a
table, as follows:--

Sexual Inversion
  1.  Acquired:
     a) Persistent.
     b) Episodical.
  2.  Congenital:
     a) Psychic Hermaphrodites.
     b) Urnings
       i) Male Habitus (Mannlings).
       ii) Female Habitus (Weiblings).
     c) Androgyni.

And Symonds continues:--"What is the rational explanation of the
facts presented to us by the analysis which I have formulated in
this table, cannot as yet be thoroughly determined.  We do not know
enough about the law of sex in human beings to advance a theory.
Krafft-Ebing and writers of his school are at present inclined to
refer them all to diseases of the nervous centres, inherited,
congenital, excited by early habits of self-abuse.  The inadequacy
of this method I have already attempted to set forth; and I have
also called attention to the fact that it does not sufficiently
account for the phenomena known to us through history and through
every-day experience."  [It should be noted that in later editions
of his book Krafft-Ebing considerably modifies the view that these
 sex-variations all indicate disease.]--"A Problem in
Modern Ethics," p. 46.


Moll, speaking of the act so commonly credited to Urnings (sodomy),
says:--"The common assumption is that the intercourse of Urnings
consists in this.  But it is a great error to suppose that this act
is so frequent among them."--A. MOLL, op. cit., p. 139.


And Krafft-Ebing also speaks of it as rare among true Urnings,
though not uncommon among old rous and debauchees of more normal
temperament.--"Psychopathia Sexualis," 7th edition, p. 258.


"The Urning denies not only the 'unnaturalness' of his leanings,
but also their pathological character; he protests against
comparison with the lame and the deaf.  The occasional coincidence
of sexual inversion with other really morbid conditions settles
nothing, nor is the reminder that it is antagonistic to the purpose
of race-propagation a proof; for who can assure us that Nature has
intended all people for race-propagation?  Even to the worker-bee
Nature has not granted this function, although in her stunted
female sex-organs there exists an undeniable indication or
suggestion of sex-feeling."--A. MOLL, op. cit., p. 271.  (From a
letter by a sixty year old Urning.)


"Homosexuality, therefore, might be described as an abnormal
variety of the sex-impulse, but hardly as a morbid variety.  If you
like, it might be termed an  arrest of development or a
kind of reversion.  And this is quite in accord with the fact that
the best experts in the subject have so far not discovered more
psychic abnormalities among homosexuals than among heterosexuals--
nor more degeneracy or signs of degeneracy."--Consulting-Physician
Dr. PAUL NAECKE, in Der Tag, 26th Oct., 1907.


"As a result of these considerations Ulrichs concludes that there
is no real ground for the persecution of Urnings except such as may
be found in the repugnance felt by the vast numerical majority for
an insignificant minority.  The majority encourages matrimony,
condones seduction, sanctions prostitution, legalises divorce, in
the interest of its own sexual proclivities.  It makes temporary or
permanent unions illegal for the minority whose inversion of
instinct it abhors.  And this persecution, in the popular mind at
any rate, is justified, like many other inequitable acts of
prejudice or ignorance, by theological assumptions and the so-
called mandates of revelation."--"A Problem in Modern Ethics,"
p. 83.


"We understand by 'homosexual' a person who feels himself drawn to
individuals of the same sex by feelings of real love.  Whether or
not he acts in accordance with this homosexual feeling is, from the
scientific standpoint, beside the question.  Just as there are
normal folk who live chastely, so there are homosexual persons
whose love bears a distinctly psychic, ideal and 'platonic'
character. . . .

  "The feminine impress, in the case of homosexual men, is
in general best indicated by the presence of greater sensitiveness
and receptivity, also by the dominance of the emotional life, by a
strong artistic sense, especially in the direction of music, often
too by a tendency to mysticism, and by various inclinations and
habits feminine in the good or less good sense of the word.  This
blending of temperament, however, does not make the homosexual as
such a less worthy person.  He is indeed not of the same nature as
the heterosexual, but he is of equal worth."--Dr. M. HIRSCHFELD'S
evidence as medical specialist in the Moltk-Harden trial.


"One serious objection to recognising and tolerating sexual
inversion has always been that it tends to check the population.
This was a sound political and social argument in the time of
Moses, when a small militant tribe needed to multiply to the full
extent of its procreative capacity.  It is by no means so valid in
our age, when the habitable portions of the globe are rapidly
becoming overcrowded.  Moreover, we must bear in mind that society
under the existing order sanctions female prostitution, whereby men
and women, though normally procreative, are sterilized to an
indefinite extent."--J. A. SYMONDS, "A Problem in Modern Ethics,"
p. 82.


"Before Justinian, both Constantine and Theodosius passed laws
against sexual inversion, committing the  offenders to
'avenging flames.'  But these statutes were not rigidly enforced,
and modern opinion on the subject may be said to flow from
Justinian's legislation.  Opinion, in matters of custom and
manners, always follows law.  Though Imperial edicts could not
eradicate a passion which is inherent in human nature, they had the
effect of stereotyping extreme punishments in all the codes of
Christian nations, and of creating a permanent social antipathy."--
Ibid, p. 13.


"Our modern attitude is sometimes traced back to the Jewish Law and
its survival in St. Paul's opinion on this matter.  But the Jewish
Law itself had a foundation.  Wherever the enlargement of the
population becomes a strongly-felt social need--as it was among the
Jews in their exaltation of family life, and as it was when the
European populations were constituted--there homosexuality has been
regarded as a crime, even punishable with death. . . .  It was in
the fourth century at Rome that the strong modern opposition to it
was formulated in law.  The Roman race had long been decaying;
sexual perversions of all kinds flourished; the population was
dwindling.  At the same time Christianity with its Judaic-Pauline
antagonism to homosexuality was rapidly spreading.  The statesmen
of the day, anxious to quicken the failing pulses of national life,
utilised this powerful Christian feeling.  Constantine, Theodosius,
Valentinian, all passed laws against homosexuality--the last, at
all events, ordaining as a penalty the vindices flamm."--HAVELOCK
ELLIS, op. cit., p. 206.


  "At the present time, shoemakers, who make shoes to
measure, deal more rationally with individuals than our teachers
and schoolmasters do, in their application to moral principles.
The sexually intermediate forms of individuals are treated exactly
as if they were good examples of the ideal male or female types.
There is wanted an 'orthopdic' treatment of the soul, instead of
the torture caused by the application of ready-made conventional
shapes.  The present system stamps out much that is original,
uproots much that is truly natural, and distorts much into
artificial and unnatural forms."--O. WEININGER, "Sex and
Character," ch. v.


"What is new in my view is that according to it homosexuality
cannot be regarded as an atavism or as due to arrested embryonic
development, or to incomplete differentiation of sex; it cannot be
regarded as an anomaly of rare occurrence interpolating itself in
customary complete separation of the sexes.  Homosexuality is
merely the sexual condition of those intermediate sexual forms that
stretch from one ideal sexual condition to the other ideal sexual
condition.  In my view, all actual organisms have both homosexuality
and heterosexuality."--O. WEININGER, "Sex and Character," ch. iv.


"How is it then that in our age reputed so philanthropic, whole
classes of men, on account of inborn mental abnormalities, are
marked down and banned, frantically persecuted, publicly branded,
and threatened with the severest legal penalties?  Any one would
 hardly believe what gross cases of justiciary murder,
morally speaking, still take place in this matter even at the end
of the nineteenth century.  To the pitiful ignorance of the judges,
to the thousand inherited prejudices of public opinion, as well as
to the mental slavery of legislative bodies, must it be ascribed
that the penal code of most civilised states is still in great
measure formulated in the gloomy spirit of the Middle Ages."--
O. de Joux, "Die Enterbten des Liebesglckes," p. 16.


"Up till now homosexual humanity has found itself in a peculiar
position.  Its mouth was closed, it could not speak.  It was bound
hand and foot and could not move.  But now there has come an
important change.  Science has taken the part of these folk and
defended their honour . . .  I protest therefore earnestly that
these men, whether by means of the Law or any other means, should
no longer be branded in the name of Christianity."--From a letter
written by a Catholic priest in reply to a circular sent by the
Humane-Science Committee of Berlin.  (See "Jahrbuch der Sexuellen
Zwischenstufen," vol. ii., p. 177.)


"Thus the very basest of all trades, that of chantage [blackmailing]
is encouraged by the law. . . .  The miserable persecuted wretch,
placed between the alternative of paying money down or of becoming
socially impossible, losing a valued position, and seeing dishonour
burst upon himself and family, pays; and still the more he pays the
greedier becomes the vampire  who sucks his life-blood,
until at last there lies nothing else before him except total
financial ruin or disgrace.  Who will be astonished if the nerves
of an individual in this position are not equal to the horrid
strain?  In some cases the nerves give way altogether. . . .  Alter
the law and instead of increasing vice you will diminish it.  The
temptation to ply a disgraceful profession with the object of
extorting money would be removed."--"A Problem in Modern Ethics,"
pp. 56 and 86.


"You will rightly infer that it is difficult for me to say exactly
how I regard (morally) the homosexual tendency.  Of this much,
however, I am certain: that even if it were possible I would not
exchange my inverted nature for a normal one.  I suspect that the
sexual emotions and even inverted ones have a more subtle
significance than is generally attributed to them; but modern
moralists either fight shy of transcendental interpretations or see
none, and I am ignorant and unable to solve the mystery these
feelings seem to imply."--HAVELOCK ELLIS, op. cit., p. 65, "case"


"I cannot regard my sexual feelings as unnatural or abnormal, since
they have disclosed themselves so perfectly naturally and
spontaneously within me.  All that I have read in books or heard
spoken about the ordinary sexual love, its intensity and passion,
life-long devotion, love at first sight, etc., seems to me to be
easily matched by my own experiences in homosexual  form;
and with regard to the morality of this complex subject, my feeling
is that it is the same as should prevail in love between man and
woman, namely: that no bodily satisfaction should be sought at the
cost of another person's distress or degradation.  I am sure that
this kind of love is, notwithstanding the physical difficulties
that attend it, as deeply stirring and ennobling as the other kind,
if not more so; and I think that for a perfect relationship the
actual sex-gratifications (whatever they may be) probably hold a
less important place in this love than in the other."--Ibid, "case"
vii., p. 58.


"I grew older, I entered my professional studies, and I was very
diligent with them.  I lived in a great capital, I moved much in
general society.  I had a large and lively group of friends.  But
always, over and over, I realised that, in the kernel, at the very
root and fibre of myself, there was the throb and glow, the ebb and
the surge, the seeking as in a vain dream to realise again that
passion of friendship which could so far transcend the cold modern
idea of the tie; the Over-Friendship, the Love-Friendship of
Hellas, which meant that between man and man could exist--the
sexual-psychic love.  That was still possible!  I knew that now.  I
had read it in the verses or the prose of the Greek or Latin or
Oriental authors who have written out every shade of its beauty or
unloveliness, its worth or debasement--from Theokritos to Martial,
or Abu-Nuwas, to Platen, Michel Angelo, Shakespeare.  I had learned
it from the statues of sculptors--in those  lines so often
vivid with a merely physical male beauty--works which beget, which
sprang from, the sense of it in a race.  I had half-divined it in
the music of a Beethoven and a Tschaikowsky before knowing facts in
the life-stories of either of them--or of an hundred other tone-
autobiographists.  And I had recognised what it all meant to most
people to-day--from the disgust, scorn, and laughter of my fellow-
men when such an emotion was hinted at."--Imre: a memorandum, by
XAVIER MAYNE, p. 110.  Naples, R. Rispoli, 1906.


"Presently, during that same winter, accident opened my eyes wider
to myself.  Since 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 (who had recommended marriage as a cure).
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 came to know their enormous
distribution all over the world to-day; 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 realised 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 organised ones--in every social class, every
land, and every civilisation."--Ibid, pp. 134, 135.


"Thus in sexual inversion we have what may be fairly called a
'sport' or variation, one of those organic aberrations which we see
throughout living nature, in plants and in animals." . . .  "All
these organic variations which I have here mentioned to illustrate
sexual inversion, are abnormalities.  It is important that we
should have a clear idea as to what abnormality is.  Many people
imagine that what is abnormal is necessarily diseased.  That is not
the case, unless we give the word disease an inconveniently and
illegitimately wide extension.  It is both inconvenient and inexact
to speak of colour-blindness, criminality and genius as diseases in
the same sense as we speak of scarlet fever, tuberculosis, or
general paralysis as diseases."--HAVELOCK ELLIS, op. cit., p. 186.


"I have had for some time past a theory about this 'Homogenic'
business--I do not suppose it is new--but it is that when man
reaches a certain stage of development and approaches the totality
of Human Nature, there gets to exist in him, though subordinately
at first, a female element as well as a male.  That is to say that
as he passes the various barriers, he passes  the barrier
of sex too, on his way to become the complete Human--the
Universal."--From a private letter.


"Great geniuses, men like Goethe, Shakespeare, Shelley, Byron,
Darwin, all had the feminine soul very strongly developed in
them. . . .  As we are continually meeting in cities women who are
one-quarter, or one-eighth, or so on, MALE . . . so there are in
the Inner Self similar half-breeds, all adapting themselves to
circumstances with perfect ease.  The Greeks recognised that such
a being could exist even in harmony with Nature, and so beautified
and idealised it as Sappho."--CHARLES G. LELAND, "The Alternate
Sex," pp. 41 and 57.  London, 1904.


"I have considered and inquired into this question for many years;
and it has long been my settled conviction that no breach of
morality is involved in homosexual love; that, like every other
passion, it tends, when duly understood and controlled by spiritual
feeling, to the physical and moral health of the individual and the
race, and that it is only its brutal perversions which are immoral.
I have known many persons more or less the subjects of this
passion, and I have found them a particularly high-minded, upright,
refined, and (I must add) pure-minded class of men."--Communicated
by Professor ---- in Appendix to HAVELOCK ELLIS'S "Sexual
Inversion," p. 240.


"What from the beginning struck me most, but  now appears
perfectly clear and indeed necessary is that among the homosexuals
there is found the MOST remarkable class of men, namely, those whom
I call SUPERVIRILE.  These men stand by virtue of the special
variation of their soul-material, just as much above Man, as the
normal sex man does above Woman.  Such an individual is able to
bewitch men by his soul-aroma, as they--though passively--bewitch
him.  But as he always lives in men's society, and men, so to
speak, sit at his feet, it comes about that such a supervirile
often climbs the very highest steps of spiritual evolution, of
social position, and of manly capacity.  Hence it arises that the
most famous names of the world and the history of culture stand
rightly or wrongly on the list of homosexuals.  Names like
Alexander the Great, Socrates, Plato, Julius Csar, Michel-Angelo,
Charles XII. of Sweden, William of Orange, and so forth.  Not only
is this so, but it must be so.  As certainly as a woman's hero
remains a spiritually inferior man, must a man's hero--well BE a
man's hero, if in any way he has the stuff for it.

"Consequently the German penal code, in stamping homosexuality as
a crime, puts the highest blossoms of humanity on the proscription
list."-- Professor Dr. JAEGER, "Die Entdeckung der Seele," pp. 268,


"The licentious or garrulous or morbid types of inverts have been
so honoured with publicity that the other types are even yet little
known.  The latter, in the maturity of their intellectual and moral
nature,  cease to look upon sex as the pivot of the
universe.  They cease to repine about their lot.  They have their
mission to fulfil here below, and they try to fulfil it as best
they can.  In the same way we find there are heterosexual (or
normal) folk who at a certain stage of their growth free themselves
from the sexual life."--M. A. RAFFALOVICH, "Uranisme et
Unisexualit," p. 74.


"The well-bred, highly-cultured Urning is a complete Idealist;
matter is for him only a symbol of thought, and the actual only the
living expression of the Invisible."--DE JOUX, "Die Enterbten des
Liebesglckes," p. 46.


"As nature and social law are so cruel as to impose a severe
celibacy on him his whole being is consequently of astonishing
freshness and superb purity, and his manners of life modest as
those of a saint--a thing which, in the case of a man in blooming
health and moving about in the world, is certainly very unusual."--
Ibid, p. 41.


"If the soul of woman in its usual form represents a secret closed
with seven seals, it is--when prisoned in the sturdy body of a man
and fused with some of the motives of manhood, a far more enigmatic
scripture of whose sibylline meaning one can never be really sure.
Only the Urning can understand the Urning."--Ibid, p. 63.


"Because they (Urnings) themselves are of a very complex nature and
put together of opposing elements, they seek out and love the
simple, plain, and straightforward natures.  Because they
continually suffer from the rebellion of their desires against good
taste and morals, they often long for a barbaric freedom.  And
because their every emotion is cut short, distracted, and worn out
by the thousand doubts and suspicions of their Urning-minds, they
gather to themselves men who are wont to live straight from feeling
to action, and who work from untamed masterly instincts, as sure as
the animals."--Ibid, p. 97.


"It is true that we are often inferior to normal men in force of
will, worldly wisdom, and sense of duty; but on the other hand, in
depth and delicacy of feeling and every virtue of the heart, we are
far superior.  We cannot LOVE women, but we lament with them, and
help them on the hearth and by the cradle, in need and loneliness,
as their most unselfish friends . . .  We do not despise women
because they are weak, for we are much clearer-sighted, much less
prejudiced than the so-called lords of creation, much nobler, more
helpful, and just-minded than they. . . .  Anyhow, if either of the
sexes has cause to withhold its respect in any degree from the
other--which has the most cause?  Say what you will of them, the
second and third sexes--women and Urnings--are ever so much better
than the brutal egotistical Men, who to-day are plunged in grossest
materialism; for, with whatever corruption, both the former are
still of purer heart, easier kindled  towards whatever is
good, and more capable of genuine enthusiasm and love of their
fellows, than the latter."--Ibid, p. 204.


"Embodying as he does Love, Patience, Renunciation, Humility and
Mildness, the Urning should seek to soothe with his gentle hand all
hurts, and to heal all wounds, which are the results of weak Man's
original sinfulness.  The tender emotions in his breast, his all
too soft and easily troubled heart, his delicate sensitiveness and
receptiveness of all that is lofty and pure, his mildness, goodness
and inexhaustible patience--all these divine gifts of his soul
point clearly to the conclusion that the great framer of the world
meant to create in Urnings a noble priesthood, a race of
Samaritans, a severely pure order of men, in order to offer a
strong counterpoise to the immoral tendencies of the human race,
which increase with its increasing culture."--Ibid, p. 253.


"When I review the cases I have brought forward and the mental
history of the inverted I have known, I am inclined to say that if
we can enable an invert to be healthy, self-restrained and self-
respecting, we have often done better than to convert him to the
mere feeble simulacrum of a normal man.  An appeal to the
paiderastia of the best Greek days, and the dignity, temperance,
even chastity, which it involved, will sometimes find a ready
response in the emotional enthusiastic nature of the congenital
invert.    The 'manly' love celebrated by Walt Whitman in
'Leaves of Grass,' although it may be of more doubtful value for
general use, furnishes a wholesome and robust ideal to the invert
who is insensitive to normal ideals.  It is by some such method of
self-treatment as this that most of the more highly intelligent men
and women whose histories I have already briefly recorded have at
last slowly and instinctively reached a condition of relative
health and peace, physical and moral."--HAVELOCK ELLIS, "Sexual
Inversion," p. 202.


"From America a lady writes:--'Inverts should have the courage and
independence to be themselves, and to demand an investigation.  If
one strives to live honourably, and considers the greatest good to
the greatest number, it is not a crime nor a disgrace to be an
invert.  I do not need the law to defend me, neither do I desire to
have any concessions made for me, nor do I ask my friends to
sacrifice their ideals for me.  I too have ideals which I shall
always hold.  All that I desire--and I claim it as my right--is the
freedom to exercise this divine gift of loving, which is not a
menace to society nor a disgrace to me.  Let it once be understood
that the average invert is not a moral degenerate nor a mental
degenerate, but simply a man or a woman who is less highly
specialised, less completely differentiated, than other men and
women, and I believe the prejudice against them will disappear, and
if they live uprightly they will surely win the esteem and
consideration of all thoughtful people.  I know what it is to be an
invert--who feels himself  set apart from the rest of
mankind--to find one human heart who trusts him and understands
him, and I know how almost impossible this is, and will be, until
the world is made aware of these facts.'"--Ibid, p. 213.


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