Benskin: Why not?
Cornford: I don’t like the word abnormal.
Benskin: Most people know what it means.
Cornford: Most people think they do. But persons in my profession learn to doubt it. If you ask me whether there was a sexual element in the relation of Miss Ross and Miss Pateman, then the answer is, of course, yes. If you ask whether there was any direct sexual expression, then the answer is also yes.
But it was easy to misunderstand some homosexual relations, Cornford said. Persons outside thought the roles were easily defined. Often they were not. In this case Miss Ross appeared to be playing the predominantly masculine role. When that happened, it could throw a weight of guilt upon the other partner: for Miss Pateman was behaving like a woman, without the full satisfactions, without the children, that in her feminine role she was ready to demand. That might be particularly true of her, because in her family the women seemed to be expected to be submissively feminine, more than ordinarily so (was that the total truth? had Cornford had any insight into Mrs Pateman?). Perhaps that was why she had sought a relation with a woman — so as to be feminine, and rebel against males, at one and the same time. But in doing so, she took upon herself more guilt, more a sense of loss and strangeness, than Miss Ross.
For Miss Ross had lived an isolated life, without those intense family pressures. Her father had deserted her mother, her mother had died young. She had been supported by an uncle. In adolescence she had been somewhere near, without being part of, a circle without many constraints. They were committed to a creed of personal freedom. She had made acquaintances there, but not close contacts. Perhaps she was too indrawn a character, or perhaps she was already finding it necessary to make a masculine compensation.
She had, said Cornford, an unusual degree of immaturity. For example, she preserved every scrap of printed matter — programmes of cinema shows they had attended together, even bus tickets — relating to Miss Pateman. That sometimes happened in an intense relation, but he had never seen it carried to this extent. She had drawers full of objects which Miss Pateman had touched, including handkerchiefs and sheets.
In a different fashion, Miss Pateman showed her own, not quite so unusual, signs of immaturity. She kept up a large collection of dolls, and apparently took one or two with her whenever she left home.
Through the questions and answers — Benskin was skilfully feeding him — Cornford, unflustered, equable, drew his psychological profiles. It sounded, to listeners in court not used to this kind of analysis, strangely abstract, a dimension away from the two women’s bodies in the dock. Several times, in the midst of the articulate, lucid replies, I glanced at them. Cora had her head thrown back, almost for the first time in the trial. So far as she was showing emotion, it looked something like pride: but beside her Kitty was frowning, her face crumpled with anger, her eyes sunk and glittering, as in a patient with a wasting disease, when the skin is bronzing and the eyes sinking in.
Benskin Q, Cornford A. The two young women found each other, they responded to complementary needs, they were driven to escape from unsatisfactory environments. Very soon they began to live in a private world. A private world with their own games, rules, fancies. That was very common in many intense relationships. It was part of a good many marriages. It could be a valuable part. The married couple got great exaltation from living in a world made for two. This happened frequently in intense homosexual relationships. Sometimes it gave them unusual depth and strength. But it had dangers, if the relationship was overloaded with guilt. As in the case of Miss Ross and Miss Pateman. When there was a component of bad sex rather than good sex. When the sexual expression was not full or free or sufficient in itself. That needn’t happen in a homosexual relation: far more often than not it didn’t: very occasionally it did. It was rarer, but not unknown, in heterosexual relations also.
Benskin: Can you explain the dangers you are referring to, Doctor?
Cornford: One of them is sometimes called folie à deux. That is, the partners may incite each other to fantasies which neither would have imagined if left to him or herself.
Benskin: And these fantasies may be transferred into action?
Cornford: In extreme cases, there is a danger that that may happen.
We didn’t know, said Cornford, why the gap between fantasy and action — which in most of us is wide and never crossed — should in those extreme cases cease to exist. If we did know that, we should understand more of the impulses behind some criminal actions. If he were going to admit the term personality defect, he might apply it to those impelled to carry such fantasies into action.
Benskin: That would apply to Miss Ross?
Cornford: That would apply equally to Miss Ross and Miss Pateman.
They had certainly made fantasies about having children in their charge. That was not uncommon in relations like theirs, overshadowed by guilt: especially so when one of the partners was a woman deprived, or a mother manquée, like Miss Pateman. There was a strong maternal aspect in her feeling for Miss Ross. In many such relationships, similar fantasies existed. They had played imaginary games of parents and children (that reminded me of the Superintendent’s homely tone). But it was an extreme case of folie à deux that led them to translate that game into a plan–
They had made fantasies about ultimate freedom. They had heard of people who talked about being free from all conventions: they had met people who prided themselves on not obeying any rules. They felt superior because they were breaking the rules themselves: that was not inconsistent with unconscious guilt, in fact it often went hand-in-hand with it. But they excited each other into being freer than anyone round them. They made fantasies about being lords of life and death. They thought of having lives at their mercy. That again was not unknown — particularly in relations with a coloration of what he (Cornford) had previously called “bad sex”. But it was very rare for the impulse to be so uncontrollable as to carry over into action.
Guilty relationships, the more so if the guilt was not conscious, had a built in tendency to lead to further guilt. One had done something which one couldn’t thrust away or live with peacefully or reconcile with one’s nature: with many people in that position, there grew a violent impulse to do something which one could face even less. Guilty relationships pushed both partners further to the extreme. All guilt had a tendency towards escalation.
That might be true, I was thinking: it was certainly true of some that I had known. A few people, dissatisfied with their lives, tried to reshape them. But there were many more like George, who couldn’t take his pleasures innocently, who felt, at least when he was young, attacks of remorse — and yet couldn’t help getting more obsessed with the chase of pleasure, never mind the risks, never mind who got hurt. He knew that those who accused him or mourned over him were right: well, to hell with them, he’d give them twice as much to be right about.
The gap between fantasy and action. Those who jumped it — Benskin got back to business — had some serious — in the terms of the Act — abnormality of mind? There was some fencing about definitions. Cornford, so confident in his own line, was intellectually a conscientious and modest man. He wasn’t prepared to trust himself in semantics or metaphysics, he said.
Benskin: But if we accept from you that personality defect or abnormality of mind is not an exact term, you would tell us that Miss Ross had features of her personality which drove her into living out her fantasies?