gs of feeling in him, especially if it is true that the
homosexual tendency is latent in most men. The love he shows me
is my joy, but a poisoned joy. It is the bread and wine of life
to me; but I dare not think what his ardent affection might ripen
into. I can go on fighting the battle of good and evil in my
attachment to him, but I cannot define my duty to him. To shun
him would be cruelty and would belie his trust in human fidelity.
Without my friendship he will not take my money--the condition of
a large career. I might, indeed, explain to him what I explain to
you, but the ordeal and shame are too great, and I cannot see
what good it would do. If he has the capacity of homosexual
feeling he might be violently stimulated; if he is incapable of
it, he would feel repulsion.

"Suppose, then, that I should seek hypnotic treatment, I still do
not know what tricks an abnormal nature might play me when
diverted by suggestion. I might lose the joy of this friendship
without any compensation. I am afraid; I am afraid! Might I not
be influenced to shun the only persons who inspire unselfish
feeling?

"Bear with this account of my story. Many virtues are easy for
me, and my life is spent in pursuits of culture. Alas, that all
the culture with which I am credited, all the prayers and
aspirations, all the strong will and heroic resolves have not rid
my nature of this evil bent! What I long for is the right to
love, not for the mere physical gratification, for the right to
take another into the arms of my heart and profess all the
tenderness I feel, to find my joy in planning his career with
him, as one who is rightfully and naturally entitled to do so. I
crave this since I cannot have a son. I leave the matter here.

"When I read what I have written I see how pointless it is. It is
possible, indeed, that brooding over my personal calamity
magnifies in my mind the sense of danger to this friend through
me, and that I only need to find the right relation of
friendliness coupled with aloofness which will secure him against
any too ardent attachment. Certainly I have no fear that I shall
forget myself. Yet two things array themselves on the other
side: I rebel inwardly against the necessity of isolating myself
as if I were a pestilence, and I rebel against the taint of
sensuous f