Comment
Roma’s request of Fred for a loan of $30 to make her insurance payment, and his silence on the subject through several letters, has thrust them into a situation where they are almost in competition about which of them is the most cruel or most aggrieved. Money—filthy lucre—shows its power as the root of all evil. It is not yet clear whether he will send it or perhaps she made other arrangements, but at least they’re talking about it and the mutual hurt is subsiding. They continue to be very fond of one another.
My dearest and sweetest girl;
May Heaven spare you the anguish of soul, the humility of spirit and the ache of heart that I am experiencing at this hour. A veritable “trinity” of demons seem to be gnawing at my vitals and peace and joy are gone. No arrow, shot by the bow of a savage Indian, has ever more truly struck the heart of its victim, as did your letter to me of the 28th inst written at Cleveland. No weapon of an alien foe could have torn my heart more. Methinks I feel the blood oozing from the jagged wound and my spirit is crushed beyond words to express.
I have suffered the sting of defeat, I have endured the pain, inseparable from sorrow and my soul has, times without number, been tried in the crucible that tests and I may say that I have emerged, as it were, from it all with a spirit more tolerant and a heart of richer sympathy—but now what am I to do? This thrust coming from you almost staggers me and tends to make the world look gray to me. Shall I say Fate is unkind to me? Do I deserve any such rebuke and chastisement? If so, must it come from you—you of whom I have been so passionately fond—you who have touched the tenderest chords of my soul—you who have set aflame the most sacred desires of my heart—you, in whom I saw personified the rarest flower that blooms in the garden of love?
Allow me to quote from your letter “yet the first and only insult I have experienced has come form you”. My dear girl, do you realize how that sounds and what that underscoring means to me? Do you wonder that I’m hurt? Do you wonder that I’m crushed? I’ll confess to you that the tears that came to my eyes, when reading that, would have drenched this page, and I feel them coming now as I write.
I have read that “the heart is a dangerous steed and when given too much rein, may throw you”—is it for me to actually experience the truth contained in that axiom?
To again quote “I have wondered if you could ever be the same to me again and if I ever wanted to see you again. My heart tells me I do, my pride I do not, which should be the stronger”—why my dearest girl, how can you write such cruel things? As I meditate on this the thoughts come so thick and fast that I can scarcely write—I sincerely hope that your heart will prove the stronger and prevail and that the pride of which you speak may be buried with error in the sea of oblivion. Again, my dear girl is your opinion of me such that your mind could harbor the thought that I would either designedly or by implication “insult” you or even wound your pride? I cannot let myself think that you would.
Again to quote “If your love and friendship can be bought for thirty pieces of silver, etc”—(“verily, I say unto you it stingeth like an adder”). In that sentence your wrath reaches its climax. This, of course, suggests the story of a Judas of Bible fame, however, in this instance I think the implied simile is not apropos.
You say you have never posed for me only as your own true self—my sweet Roma Belle, I know that and that is only another reason why I love you as I do. This incident has caused me genuine grief and I shall hope and even pray that it shall not abide.
And now allow me to proceed with a defense and explanation of my action or rather inaction. When I received your letter touching upon the subject of money, I did a heap of thinking. I thought and thought and my mind could come to no definite conclusion. I thought of the rule observed in railroad circles—“when in doubt pursue the safer course”—but that did not satisfy me. Another thought was, is she trying to test me?, and another was, am I to sell my friendship, affection and love for coin? or what the whole thing a joke? but no satisfactory answer came back to me. I make no claims at being shrewd, clever or especially tactful. I was in a quandary. I confess I didn’t know what to do. I could not discuss it with another. I was compelled to sit as both judge and jury. So in my extremity I tried the policy of evasion with direful results. I might write an interesting chapter on the loaning of money to relations, friends and acquaintances taken from my own life experience, but I have not the time or the inclination. Have I at any time given you the impression of being stingy? I just hate that word. I have tried to be generous and liberal to you with my attention, respect, friendship, affection and love. You have deserved more than I have been able to give you, yet I gave you all I could and I assure you, my dearest girl, that I appreciate more than I can tell, that which you have reciprocated. I have heard it said that money is the root of all evil; I certainly have no desire to prove it. Now, dear Roma Belle, if you feel hurt over this, believe me, I feel doubly hurt; I could not wish my worst enemy the awful depression this brings upon me. I am not convinced that you were really serious and if I can be of any assistance to you at this belated date, command me.
Amid the gloom that pervades your letter I can see rays of light pregnant with hope. You mention Mr. Ransom as coming over to spend Sunday and further say, you do not ask me to come, but you would be glad to see me, if I cared to come. But, my dear girl, I cannot be blind to the changed tenor of your words. I am determined that our friendship shall not end here, for I treasure it too highly and its ending in so abrupt a way would make me miserable.
When I said there was a possibility and a probability of not seeing you again, I was only echoing a thought or sentiment expressed in your letter to me. A “desire to that effect” is the fartherest [sic] from my thought.
I never wanted to see you so much as I do now. Before me stands your picture—but it is only your picture, it is not you. Oh, if you were only here now, I just feel myself effervescing with affection for you. I have felt my friendship and fondness for you melt into the purest and sweetest love. You have taken such hold upon me that I am sure no trifle can sever. To me you are a veritable jewel of womanly loveliness—and to offend you—why that is something I could not even think of doing.
You will hear from me in some manner later in the week, probably Saturday or Sunday. How long will you be in Fostoria? I shall be more than anxious to hear from you and trust that due course of mail will bring me a happy reply. I assure you that the many happy thoughts you had of me are reciprocated.
I remain lovingly,
F.B.W.
Miss Roma Belle Matteson, Fostoria, Ohio, 326 N. Main St.
My dearest Roma Belle,
My thoughts have been so intently fixed upon you this morning and being in a mood to write, I am yielding and will obey the impulse. I have a peculiar joy in writing you exceeded only when I receive a missive from you; the truth is I experience a delight, both unique and rich, when thinking, speaking or writing about anything that involves you. Whenever I see a beautiful picture, a rich gown or rare jewels, but more especially, the exquisite beauty found only in the flowers, it seems to suggest you. (Wait a moment a messenger boy is at the door.) What do you think—a message from you asking me up for Sunday. “Ye gods of ancient Greece” what wouldn’t I give to be with you to-morrow! Your message should have reached me last night, but there was no one home to receive it. Your “leaving Ohio Monday” doesn’t make me feel one bit good. Say, do you know, I am wondering what you are doing in Cleveland and who is with you. I can make a good guess. I do not know whether or not to finish this letter not having a safe address; well, here goes anyway, I’ll make an awful effort to have it reach you. Our Chautauqua opened yesterday. I have enough tickets to take care of you. Won’t you come? You will be more than welcome. I’ll furnish the time and the place, if you furnish the rest.
Goethe, Germany’s immortal past, said “The beautiful is a higher quality than the good” and this has been supplemented by another celebrity who said, “The beautiful is the perfection of the good.” In you I see the happy union of both. Do you wonder that I see in you a sweetheart—no the sweetheart with quadruple emphasis on sweet. [four underlines]
I am enclosing a clipping. I confess I broke down when reading it. I’ll make no further comment. It is too terrible.
I must hurry and get this in the mail that reaches Cleveland early Sunday morning. I had ordered flowers sent to your Fostoria address, but will cancel or hold the order until I have a more certain address. I expected or intended the flowers for you to have Sunday. That postcard I received yesterday was or at least seemed “frigid.” I am longing for that promised “write later” letter. I dropped a line to Miss Hopper, enclosing the pencil—following your suggestion.
During the past week I have talked to Miss Allard, Mr. Killy and Mr. Lemon and of course your name was most favorably mentioned.
My best regards to any inquiring friends and to you my best girl unfathomable depths of love.
I am as ever, F.B.W.
Portsmouth, Ohio. July third, Nineteen fifteen
[July 5, 1915]
My dearest Roma Belle,
I have just finished doing justice to a splendid dinner prepared by my good Aunt Mary. All the while I was eating I was thinking of you, for only a half hour before I received your letter addressed to the firm Messers W. and B. for the “consolation party.” Aunt Mary and I are still alone and I knew that good dinner would have tasted so much better if you were here. What do you think of our menu—fried chicken, new boiled potatoes, green beans, corn on the cob, sliced tomatoes, and cucumbers, hot rolls, butter, huckleberry pie and coffee. I was just wondering whether my special delivery letter sent to 1901 E. 69th St. reached you Sunday A.M. to your wire. I am wondering how a sweet little girl like you will “get by” in a big city like Cleveland. I was at the Chautauqua last night with Miss Gertrude Davidson, whom you, no doubt, well remember. We heard some good music. I am going again to-day and my, how I wish you were here to share in the delights of our Chautauqua. Someone has said, “Music is the fruit of love” then let me have an excess of it. Another has said, “Love unexpressed is poison.” I feel that I can attest to the truth contained in the latter. I am just now possessed with the thought how grand it would be if I could slip up to Cleveland and spend a few days with you. There is so much I want to say to you—things I cannot write and be clearly understood. Not being understood so often gets us “in bad.”
If there is any way whereby I can get up to your city before you leave, believe me I’ll make a herculean effort to do so. Perhaps, if you are sent to West Virginia you may be in Huntington and that is only a short ride form here.
In closing let me repeat the simile, that to me, you are as the pure, sweet and innocent dew-drop nestling in the petals of the rose bud, and your diamond like glittering in the sunlight adds new joy to the world. I am hoping for an early reply.
Lovingly, F.B.W.
[Cleveland, Ohio, 5:30 PM, July 5, 1915. Colonial Hotel stationary: Absolutely Fire Proof, George Fulwell, President & Manager.]
My dearest Mr. Winter:
This is July fifth and I have first received your two letters. No doubt you have noticed the different hotels from which I have sent messages. You see I room so far out, that if I have the disposition to write, I drop into the nearest hotel, go to the writing room, write my letters while down town.
No doubt Messrs Winter and Bower received my message written Saturday from the Hotel Statler. Don’t you think that a clever scheme of mine?
Yesterday I did so much want to write you, but I felt I should wait until I heard from you. I stayed in my room all day until about six o’clock. Miss Dake invited me to breakfast with her, which was between eleven and twelve. When in the city I always like to go to church, but yesterday my suit was soiled, and I so[crossed out] dislike to go alone, so stayed at home. About six I went out to dinner, and just across the way was the Duchess Theatre where Mr. McFarrlin was in person, so I went over. His singing was good, but I surely have heard others I enjoyed more. The orchestra was unusually fine, and the pictures good enough for past time, but somehow, such surroundings always make me blue and lonesome. It was then I wanted to come home and write to you.
Dear, you do say such nice things about me, and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. I hate flattery above everything on earth, but it seems what you say is sincere. However it has taken me until now to really believe that. I can’t see what there is about me to be attractive. I know I am not the worse looking girl on earth, but I am not what you call pretty. It surely is not my “swell dressing” to attract attention, what is it? We have not been in a single place but what I have had attention. I have been taking some of my meals at Thompsons downtown. The manager at the desk who is a very attractive young man about thirty or thirty-five, has tried to attract my attention every time I have gone in, today he came up and began talking to me. The most fastidious could not complain of his manner or conversation. I don’t[crossed out] know you give me credit for not going out with a man—meeting him in that way, I never have, and never shall go with anyone unless properly introduced, and then I am careful where I go. The only question in my mind, why should he have been attracted by [sic] me? I am sure I have never gone in a public place alone, but with the utmost, quiet and independent dignity.
My dearest dear, if I have really caused you the anguish you painted on that paper, I do earnestly ask you to forgive me. I can suffer myself, but to cause another pain is more than I can stand. To be admired and loved by a grand good man like you is more than I deserve, and I appreciate the honor you do me, yet there is a barrier between us that only time can erase. I have always been honest and straight forward and above board about everything, and I can’t understand anyone that would not be. I of course do not know what your experiences have been, but it is very evident you doubted me, and judged me by some of your past experiences.
I grant that often times our experiences teaches [sic] us to be cautious, but I can’t see where there could possibly have been a chance for argument, either for a test or sale of friendship or a joke, when I explained to you the situation. Your defense has to me been a very poor one, but evidently you consider it good. If it had been a matter of a few hundred dollars, it would have been different, but I am sure if your friendship was as deep and sincere as you they[crossed out] would have me believe, you would not have doubted or questioned me, and even if you did, you would rather have taken the risk, than have wounded and humiliated me. I realize perfectly that no one has thirty dollars to throw away, much less one in ordinary circumstances. Dear, this will hurt or at least should, but no matter what circumstances I should find myself, I should never ask you for help or let you know. I don’t know how this will effect [sic] you, but should a friend say that to me, it would hurt more than anything possible, for to me to know that I can really and truly help a friend is the greatest pleasure that can come to me. There is absolutely nothing I would not do for Lena Hopper and I believe she feels that way towards me.
I owe you an apology in regard to Mr. Bower. I said I thot he would be stingy with a woman. I have regretted saying that to you more than once, but we were talking in a confidential way, and I said it. However, I meant no reflection on Mr. B__., if it were true, it was simply his disposition and he could not help it. However, I have known of so much domestic unhappiness caused from that very thing that it is worthwhile considering, but how I do hate to think of the matter of money, entering into the question of love. I surely do not admire any man for squandering money on a girl, unless he cares for it. I have remonstrated more than once having it done for me, when I knew it was for show. However, to go back to Mr. B__. He has said to me in person and letter, “dear little girl, if you are ever short of money, or need help, do not hesitate or be embarrassed to ask me. There will always be anything here you may need, and it would be a pleasure to know I could help the little girl out.”
Also on his way to Toledo, we were trying to make plans for him to stay over Sunday and Monday. He was explaining to me why it was necessary for him to get back, and I said I could realize that when a matter of $30,000 was involved that a girl would merely be a drop in the bucket. I meant that in a sensible way, but he said, “no, men have involved fortunes for a girl, that it is for the girl we are trying to make our money, without her our money would be useless.” So you see I misjudged my dear friend.
Now dear, do not feel I have been singing Mr. B__ praises and deprecating you. I am singing his praises, for he is a true friend of mine, and no one will ever say anything against him to me, and you dear may be just as true and sincere. You are two distinct types of men, but your treatment of me has always been courteous, respectful and loving. You may have as deep and reverened [sic] a friendship for me, but expressed differently. I can’t understand or explain your attitude, altho you no doubt feel justified. When a case of this kind arises, I always think of Holmes’ “Autocrat at the Breakfast Table.” The three meanings given out when John speaks. His meaning, God’s interpretation, and the meaning the listener gets.
I know I have said things in this letter to hurt you, but I had to. However, there is no one else in this world it causes me greater pain to hurt. I have a feeling for you never experienced for anyone else, yet if you are only to share my joys it will be a lonesome friendship. As sad and unpleasant as this affair has been, I reiterate I am not sorry it happened. I also wish to state that I have never been angry in any degree.
Dear, the word stingy has never in my mind been connected with you, not even now. You indeed have been most liberal to me with your attention, respect, friendship, affection and love. Dear, the whole affair is a paradox. I try to explain, and in the next breath contradict myself. I simply can’t understand your attitude. Yet I try to excuse you because I am so fond of you, but can’t do it. To be really and truly loved by you, I cannot imagine anything more divine, and to disappoint you would be the bitterest cup I could drink. When we are on this earth for such a short time, why can it not be all love and happiness? Why does the bitter have to be mingled with the sweet.
Maybe if I go to West Virginia you will come and see me? I don’t think that will be so far. My, how I should have enjoyed your being here during these few days. Maybe we could have taken a short lake trip? What a pleasure.
How I should have enjoyed taking in your “Chautauqua.” There are so many things on the program I should have enjoyed. Thank you for asking me. Also let me express my appreciation for the flowers that would have come had I not been away. There is nothing that means quite so much to me as flowers. They symbolize both love and remembrance. Dearest one, I cannot take back one thing I have said, yet it has all been said in the name of love. This letter is very unsatisfactory to me, yet it is all as I see it. Thanks for all the pretty things you sent in your letters. How I should like to read and find them with you.
I have just reread your two darling letters, to make sure I have left out nothing. I am so glad you want to see me again.
I expect to be here about until Thursday or Friday. You may address any mail to 1901 E. 69th Street. I am surely with some nice people. They are nice to me so think I shall stay
And now as I close this chapter, may you be given grace to interpret it rightly with my best love for the key. Very much love
Roma.
P.S. Please in no way say anything to Mr. B. about our difference, for in one way it would be an insult to him if he knew I had asked you for money when he had been so good and kind as to offer it to me. There is a couple loving just across from me, should I look?
R.B.M. July fifth, Nineteen fifteen.
QBA 