Living My Life - Emma Goldman [161]
I had the feeling of sinking into a swamp. In desperation I clutched the table in front of me and tried to cry out, but no sound came from my throat. I sat numb, the terrible letter seeming to creep over me, word by word, and drawing me into its slime.
I was brought back to myself by Sasha’s arrival. Sasha—at this moment—of all people! How he would feel justified by this letter in all he had said about Ben! I broke out in uncontrollable laughter.
“Emma, your laugh is terrible. It cuts like a knife. What is it?”
“Nothing, nothing, only I must get out on the street or I shall choke.”
I snatched up my coat and hat and ran down the five flights. I walked for hours, the letter burning in my head.
This was the man whom I had taken into my heart, my life, my work! Fool, lovesick fool that I was, blinded by passion not to see what everyone else saw. I, Emma Goldman, to be carried away like any ordinary woman of forty by a mad attraction for a young man, a stranger picked up at a chance meeting, an alien to my every thought and feeling, the reverse of the ideal of man I had always cherished. [ ... ]
Days of anguish followed, tortured by attempts to explain and excuse Ben’s acts, attempts irritating and vain. Over and again I repeated to myself: “Ben comes from a world where lies prevail in all human relations. He does not know that free spirits in their love and tasks honestly and frankly share everything life brings; that among people with ideals no one need cheat, steal, or lie. He is of another world. What right have I to condemn, I who claim to teach new values of life?” “But his obsessions? His going with every woman?” My heart cried out in protest. “Women he does not love, does not even respect. Can you justify that, too? No, no!” came from the depths of my woman’s soul. “Yes,” replied my brain, “if it is his nature, his dominant need, how can I object? I have propagated freedom in sex. I have had many men myself. But I loved them; I have never been able to go indiscriminately with men. It will be painful, lacerating, to feel myself one of many in Ben’s life. It will be a fearful price to pay for my love. But nothing worth while is gained except at heavy cost. I’ve paid dearly for the right to myself, for my social ideal, for everything I have achieved. Is my love for Ben so weak that I shall not be able to pay the price his freedom of action demands?” There was no answer. In vain did I strive to harmonize the conflicting elements that were warring in my soul.
Dazed and hardly aware of my surroundings, I jumped out of bed. It was still dark. Like a sleep-walker I got into my clothes, felt my way to Sasha’s room, and shook him out of sleep.
“I must go to Ben,” I said. “Will you take me to him?”
Sasha was startled. He switched on the light and searchingly looked at me. But he asked no questions and said nothing. He hurriedly dressed and accompanied me.
We walked in silence. My head swam, my feet were unsteady. Sasha put my arm in his. In my purse was a key to the house where Ben was rooming. I let myself in, then turned to Sasha for a moment. Without a word I closed the door and ran up the two flights, bursting into Ben’s room.
He jumped up with a cry. “Mommy, you’ve come at last! You have forgiven, you have understood.” We clung to each other, everything else wiped out.
CHAPTER XXXIV
In planning our tour to take place during the presidential campaign we had overlooked the interest of the American masses in the political circus. The result was failure of the initial part of our trip. In Indianapolis, the first city to bring out a large attendance, my lecture was suppressed in the usual manner. The Mayor expressed regret that the police had overstepped their powers, but of course he could not act against the department. The Chief said that stopping the meeting might have been bad law, but that it was good common sense. [ ... ]
San Francisco held a special attraction. The ex-soldier William Buwalda,1 as a result of our agitation