by Colin Wilson
Esmond has here sounded the fundamental theme of the journal: what we would now call the hidden powers of the subconscious. It obsesses him; he returns to it again and again. ‘The powers of Nature surround us all the time; the mighty rushing of the torrent, the cannonades of the wind; the very stars dance through the heavens to tell us that nothing in the world stands still except the soul of a wretch who knows only disquiet and self-reproach.’ He asks repeatedly why man’s intelligence should exclude him from the life of the universe, and speculates whether this is the meaning of the story of Adam and Eve: that knowledge itself, the ability to think, was that which separated man from God. Even at sixteen, Donelly shows a remarkably wide acquaintance with the eighteenth-century divines, and even quotes George Herbert. And then, on page 48 of volume one—dated a week before Christmas—the tone changes. I suspect he had re-read his sentence about the ‘rod to strike the rock of the soul and make a spring gush forth’, for he speaks again of bouncing bosoms. The bosoms he had in mind were those of his cousin Sophia, who was staying with them for the holiday, together with her mother and father. Sophia Montagu, a cousin of Elizabeth Montagu (one of the original ‘blue stockings’), became a noted beauty of the period, and even at this time—when she was barely nineteen—she had attracted a great deal of attention when staying at the Mayfair home of the famous hostess. Esmond was a good-looking boy, but she probably thought of him as an unsophisticated country cousin. Esmond was analytical enough to know he was not in love with her, for he wrote: ‘S is a fool, but a beautiful fool who has many points of resemblance to a goddess.’ And later: ‘Sophia told me that she had heard Mr Boswell argue with Dr Johnson in favour of polygamy, and that Mrs Montagu replied that there was no woman alive with so little judgement as to want more than one husband at a time.’ Boswell’s idea took root; so did Rousseau’s Nouvelle Héloïse, which he read in French, and Richardson’s Clarissa Harlowe. In Rousseau’s novel, the heroine Julie and her tutor Saint-Preux become lovers, and Rousseau argues that this is right and natural between two people who love one another and are prevented by circumstances from marrying. Richardson’s novel is moral by comparison: an account of the abduction and rape of the virtuous Clarissa by the rake Lovelace; Clarissa dies of mortification, and Lovelace is killed in a duel. Esmond heaps mockery on Richardson in the name of Rousseau. Why should a girl go into a decline because a man has done something that is perfectly natural? The presence of his pretty cousin kept the subject of sexual intercourse to the forefront of his mind, and in a short time he is expressing views that made him decide to keep his diary a secret. Like many other critics, he suspected that Richardson’s attitude to the rape of Clarissa was not one of horrified disapproval, but of vicarious pleasure. ‘For who would not enjoy ravishing a beautiful girl, especially if she were unconscious and know nothing of it.’ He asks why Richardson allows Clarissa to be ravished when she is drugged, instead of in the manner of Lucrece, and answers: ‘If the girl is too virtuous to surrender her body in any other way, then Lovelace is right to adopt this course. The girl’s beauty, like that of certain tropical birds, is intended to allure the male sex; why should she complain if she is too successful? She complains because her aim is to get a husband in exchange for her virtue. But supposing the prospective husband finds her a fool and has no wish to devote his life to her support? Is he bound by his honour to foreswear the pursuit? Why should he not try to pluck the flower instead of buying the whole garden?’
It is interesting to observe that he does not actually answer the question of why Richardson preferred to have Clarissa unconscious when she is raped. But it continues to trouble him. He asks: ‘Is it not because the man’s sense of obligation lessens his pleasure? Would it not destroy my pleasure in a bottle of wine if I knew I had to pay fifty pounds for it tomorrow?’ He goes on to discuss Boswell’s idea of polygamy, and asserts that this is only another expression of the male’s natural desire to pay homage by ‘pouring a libation of procreation-juice into its proper orifice’.
The interest in Sophia came to nothing; but at least it served to start Esmond thinking about sex. This leads him to give a full and interesting account of his sexual experiences so far. They had taken place only six months before; the girl was a lady’s maid his elder sister, Judith, had brought back from Lyons. He calls her Minou, although apparently her real name was Marie:
When I returned from Dublin, Judith had been home about six weeks. At first, I paid Minou no attention, finding her face somewhat plain; her chin was too large, and she had a nose like a button. But on the second day after my return, as I lay upon the newly scythed grass near the edge of the stream, I heard her laughing and saying: ‘No, no, this is not the place’, and a man’s voice mocking her accent: ‘No, thees ees goot place.’ It was Shawn Rafferty, who tends the horses and helps with the garden, a great hulking lubber whose right cheek is scarred by the kick of a foaling mare. His trousers and waistcoat never fit him, for they are the cast-offs of his elder brother, who is six inches shorter. I was unable to see either of them, for they were lying in the long grass under an apple tree. After a few minutes of silence, she said again: ‘No, not here.’ ‘Come to the barn then.’ ‘No, I cannot. I must go back to help with the tea.’ (Judith has afternoon tea, a custom she picked up abroad.) But I heard her promise to return to the barn after tea; then she stood up, brushed her dress with her hands, and hurried away. Shawn Rafferty got up, tied his trousers at the waist with a piece of rope, and went off towards the barn.
I knew Shawn’s reputation among the village girls, although I had never been able to understand it, for his scar and the wall eye give him a most formidable appearance. My sisters call him the Cyclops. But now I was all agog with curiosity to know what he intended to do with her, although it was not difficult to guess. I had watched him guiding the erect organ of an impatient stallion into a mare, and I had no doubt that he was well versed in the use and control of his own machine. But I knew nothing of the coupling of man and woman; and I now decided that, should the opportunity present itself, I would remedy this defect in my education. I thereupon betook myself to the hay barn—for I guessed this was the one he meant—and climbed up into the loft, among the bean sacks and bales of fodder. All the floor had been covered with the hay, and the smell was most delicious. It was my guess that they purposed to enjoy their union upon this natural carpet; but in case he should take it into his head to look aloft, I hid myself behind the sacks in the corner.
Half an hour later, Shawn came in and began turning the hay with a fork; I could not see him, but I knew him by his voice as he sang ‘Molly Malone’. Then he came up to the loft, bringing great armfuls of hay, which he scattered and spread on the floor within a few yards of where I lay. From this I guessed they intended to hold their nuptials up here, and not, as I had supposed, down below.
A few minutes later, Minou came in, and for a while there was no sound. I raised myself to my knees and peeped out over the sacks; they were standing near the door, and she had her arms round his neck. Then they talked in whispers, and he pointed to the ladder; I lay down and closed my eyes, so that they might think me asleep in case they came upon me. He came up first, then turned and helped her off the ladder, which stretched beyond the platform. The light was poor, but I could see them well enough. He stood with his back to the wall, and she flung her arms round his neck, and gave him a long kiss. Then she took one hand away, and reached down to the rope, which she untied with one pull. His trousers fell down to his knees, revealing enormous and hairy buttocks that were turned towards me. Her hand moved around between them and I could only guess what it was doing. Then she suddenly dropped to her knees before him, and her face disappeared behind the curve of his thigh. I saw his hands take hold of her head, and his buttocks begin to move. Then he said: ‘Ah, stop it or I shall lose the best of it’, and they stayed like that a moment more, neither of them moving. While she crouched there, he fumbled with the back of her
dress; then she stood up, and he raised it from the floor, while she held up her arms as though he were a lady’s maid, allowing him to draw it upwards. He took it off, and laid it carefully upon the floor; and as he turned sideways, I saw his instrument of love standing like a maypole, and swaying as he moved. It was not as big as that of the stallion, but it was one of the largest I had ever clapped eyes upon. Meanwhile, as he lifted her chemise, I was able to see her figure, which was so sweetly rounded that I could not believe it belonged to the uninviting face. As she stood there, her arms pinioned above her head by the chemise, he bent his head and brought his mouth down to her breast, which he worried between his lips, while her hands closed over the pole that prodded her belly—its length being ample to accommodate both of them. Then he pulled off the chemise and tossed it on the floor, and they both sank down upon the hay. I raised my face above the sacks, but could see little, for they were sunk into the hay, and the light down there was poor. Suddenly, she gave a sharp cry, and I was afraid she had seen me, and ducked back again; then I heard him hushing her, and she cried out again, but less loud. The hay rustled as though ten thousand rats were in it, and she continued to utter cries and moans, as though she were in pain. Then the rustling became so furious that I peeped up again, and saw him moving his buttocks upon her as though he hoped to make a hole in the floor, while I saw that her knees were now bent, and her feet were in the small of his back, so that had there been more light, I could have viewed the exact site of the operation. Then she tried to cry out again and he placed his hand over her face, while his movements stopped as if frozen. They lay there, quite still, then he gave a great sigh, and seemed to shrink from her. She unwound her legs from his hips, and let them lie straight, while he lay there upon her without moving.
I must confess that all this had me wrought up to a considerable pitch of excitement, which had reached its own moment of release some minutes before their motions had ceased. Now that it was over, I hoped they would dress position. But the silence that ensued convinced me they had themselves and allow me to escape from my cramped fallen asleep, although I dared not move to find whether my guess was correct. After some ten minutes had passed, they began to move again; but the rustling continued so long that I inferred they had only returned to their amorous congress. I peeped over the sack and discovered that my guess was only half correct; for he still lay like a stricken gladiator, while she crouched upon all fours, and seemed to be trying to bring some life to the embers by blowing upon them. After a while, this had its effect . . .
Esmond’s account goes on for so long that it would be pointless to quote more of it here. The girl was a nymphomaniac, although Esmond was too inexperienced to recognise this. She roused her cavalier to further activity three times, and finally left him sleeping so deeply that Esmond was finally able to tiptoe past him without being detected.
But the next development is so typical of Esmond that it must be recorded here. He admits that he was unable to see what went on; but the sounds were so unmistakable that this was unnecessary. And now, having seen the girl naked, his only thought was how he might share her with the stable boy. He repeats several times that the beauty of her shape amazed him; he had always thought that the Greek sculptors exaggerated the beauty of the female form. On the way back to the house, it struck him that the girl could probably be blackmailed into giving herself; he only had to threaten to tell his sister that she and the stable boy were lovers. He went to his own room to wash and brush the dust off his clothes, then went through the servants’ quarters to Minou’s room. There seemed to be no one about; he opened the latch and peeped in.
Her room was empty, and for a moment I debated whether to wait there or return to my own. Then I heard the sound of water from the annexe—a small closet divided from the rest of the room by a partition—and knew that she was within. I closed the door behind me and tiptoed into the room; but a board creaked, and she called: ‘Who is there?’ I said, as quietly as I could: ‘Esmond.’ She looked out and said: ‘Oh, pardonnez moi, I am not dressed.’ I stood there, feeling a trifle foolish, and felt myself blushing, which made me angry. She seized her dress, which lay upon a chair, and held it up to her neck, asking: ‘You have a message?’ But she was smiling as though she found me pleasing, and this served to dispel my unease. I was staring so hard, trying to determine whether or no she was wearing her chemise, that she remained not long in doubt of my purpose. It was the first time I had known that an exchange of opinions could take place without a word being uttered. Her eyes roved from my feet up to my head, and back again. I said: ‘It is cold in here’ or some such foolishness, and then stepped forward, and took her hands, peeping over the top of them. She was wearing the chemise, but it hung low upon her neck, and the sight of the two unsupported orbs so transported me that I hesitated no longer, but took the dress from her and dropped it on the bed. Above the left breast I saw the marks of two rows of teeth, and as she seemed about to protest, I pointed to these. She looked down at them and said something in French which I did not catch, and bent my head to the small nipple that now stood exposed. While she looked, I slipped off the strap of the chemise. I expected her to jerk away, but she stood there quietly and suffered me to take it between my lips; then, after a moment, placed her hands on my head and stroked the hair. Then she unbuttoned my waistband and fore-flap, and reached within to the rod which craved to do her homage. I wasted no more time, but pressed her backward to the truckle bed, and laid my hand upon the nether parts, which were wet, for she had been washing them when I came in. Then, without removing my trousers or hose, I dropped upon her, and entered her without difficulty, the passageway having been already stretched and lubricated by my predecessor. Even in this moment of excitement, I felt surprise to observe how tightly my member was gripped, as though no previous tenant had distended the velvet walls. I was resolved to stay unspent as long as possible, but she undid me by clasping me tight with her thighs and wriggling her buttocks so deliciously that I was unable to hold out longer, and allowed the molten surgings to gush within her, while she wriggled and cried out, though less loudly than in the barn.
The noise of footsteps outside the door gave us cause to fear that someone had come to investigate, but they passed, and I climbed out of bed and slid the bolt, then drew off my trousers and hose, and returned to the bed, which had moved some feet from its original position on its wheels. Though there was scarce room for the two of us turned sideways, we pressed together most comfortably, and after some minutes, she gave me several long kisses, whose manner at first surprised me, since I was unaware that the tongue might usurp the function that is more normally assigned to the lips. After this, she drew back the coverlet, and examined my lower parts with curiosity, praising their whiteness and smoothness, and stroking my thighs and knees. . . .
Again, the description is too lengthy to quote. They stayed in her room an hour longer, and the remarkable girl induced him to make love to her three times more. After this, they talked, and Esmond confessed that he had watched her with Shawn Rafferty. Instead of being indignant, she laughed loudly, and then asked him if he was not jealous. ‘I was not then. I am now.’ She told him that this was absurd, since men and women were intended to give one another pleasure.
It is hard to say whether Esmond was fortunate or unfortunate in his choice of his first mistress. It is true that his own views on promiscuity were already well developed; but a more normal love affair—with an emotional as well as a physical side—would have helped to counterbalance these. He was still unaware that there was anything abnormal in Minou’s physical demands, since he found himself able to make love to her as often as she wished. Neither is it entirely true that the strong attraction between them was without its sentimental side; there was even a point where he considered eloping with her. He ceased to think about Clarissa and Lovelace, or Julie and Saint-Preux, and thought of their affaire in terms of Manon and Des Grieux—although he admits that he
had previously dismissed Prévost as absurd and unrealistic.
It is a pity that Esmond tells us nothing of Minou’s previous history, or even if he questioned her about it. It would be interesting to know whether her perverse sexuality was natural or acquired. She certainly seems to be a textbook case of nymphomania. She liked to be bitten, particularly on the breasts, buttocks and genitals, and liked to be beaten on the behind with a leather strap. She enjoyed sodomy as much as normal sex, preferably standing up or bending over the bed. As soon as she and Esmond were alone in any room of the house, she unbuttoned his trousers and toyed with his penis until he was erect; then, if there was no time for intercourse, she would masturbate him. If she did this orally, she swallowed the sperm; if manually, she licked it from her fingers. On one occasion Esmond’s sister Judith entered the room while Minou was on her knees in front of him; she pretended to be cleaning his shoes while Esmond hastily buttoned his trousers.
During the two months that this affaire continued, she made no secret about spending as much time as possible with Shawn Rafferty, and Esmond was so far dominated by her that he did not complain. She also tried to persuade him to hide in the barn again and watch her making love with Shawn, but Esmond’s pride—or his Protestant snobbery—revolted at this. He also vetoed her suggestion that she should tell Shawn about her affair with Esmond, and that the three of them should join together for romps in the barn.
In August, the affaire took an unexpected turn which leads one to wonder whether Minou (her other name is not recorded) was not one of the most complex and incalculable women of her period. A girl named Delphine Lantier, an acquaintance of Judith’s, came to stay at Castle Donelly. One infers from Esmond’s description of her that she was not conventionally beautiful, for he says that her face was made beautiful by its gentleness and the large brown eyes. She also had the misfortune to be slightly deformed; she was thrown from a carriage when a child, and broke a hip and shoulder-bone. Neither had been set correctly, so that she carried herself awkwardly. Although her father was French, her mother was Irish, and she spoke English perfectly. (It is significant that Esmond takes the trouble to record the personal details of a girl of his own class, while he ignores those of the far more complex and fascinating Minou.)