Sherry Chapmanby Sherry Chapman
First published in December/January, 2004-2005, Volume 1, Issue 6, The Hatchet: Journal of Lizzie Borden Studies.
One of the first books I ever read on the Borden case was Frank Spiering’s Lizzie (NY: Pinnacle Books, 1985). Although I never agreed with his whodunit theory, I thought it was extremely well written. It made me feel as if I were there in the house on Second Street. I liked it so much I read it twice, and I have always recommended the book to others.
One of the things I thought I learned from his book, which I took to be true since it says “non-fiction” on the spine, was about one of the handwritten notes of Lizzie’s that he included. He offered it as some sort of “evidence” that Lizzie Borden was a lesbian. I always remembered that note, and what he wrote about it, and thought, “Wow! She really was gay.” It was interesting to know—really know—so that I could have a better insight into her character. I was amazed at Spiering’s research and this most “revealing” document.
I think most of us are familiar with this short letter. If you’ve read Spiering’s book, you probably haven’t forgotten this part. But first, let me share another piece that Lizzie wrote that appears in my paperback version of Spiering’s book on page 268.
To preface the note, Spiering tells us that Lizzie wrote this to Mrs. Cummings, her dressmaker at the time, to apologize for any trouble caused by the rumor that Lizzie was getting married and that Mrs. Cummings was supposedly making the dress:
My dear Friend
I am more sorry than I can tell you that you have had any trouble over the false and silly story that has been about the last week or so. How or when it started I have not the least idea. But never for a moment did I think you or your girls started it. Of course I am feeling very badly about it but I must just bear as I have in the past. I do hope you will not be annoyed again. Take care of yourself, so you can get well.
Yours sincerely
L. A. Borden
Dec. 12, 1896
Okay. It’s interesting that Lizzie not only cared about her dressmaker’s reaction to the rumor, but that she also took the time to write her such a caring note. It made for good reading, and I felt confident of Spiering’s credibility and admired his talent as a researcher.
On page 278-279, he brings up a second note, for reasons only he knows, leading the reader to believe that she was a homosexual. He begins with:
“Thirty-five years devoid of physical affection were taking their toll. There was a part of Lizzie that ached to be warmed and cherished. A part so secret – which yearned for someone like herself whom she could embrace and shower with affection.
“As the days and nights of loneliness crowded in on her there was someone she desired.”
Mr. Spiering states that Florence Brigham, past curator of the Fall River Historical Society, told him that the letter following was “written to a young woman.”
Here is Lizzie’s note that Spiering refers to in its entirety:
My dear Friend
Where are you how are you and what are you doing? I dreamed of you the other night but I do not dare to put my dreams on paper. Have you been away and has your little niece been to visit you? We have been home all summer. I spend much time on the piazza in my steamer chair reading and building castles in the air. I hope you have been away and are well and strong now. Do you expect to do much this fall and are you going to N.Y.? Every time we pass your corner the pony wants to turn down. The weather has been so warm and full of thunder storms I am quite ready for fall. I should be very glad to hear from you.
Sincerely
L. A. Borden
August 22, 1897
Spiering then makes comments about Lizzie’s “deepest, most passionate feelings,” her phrase being “revealing,” and states that “she could be explicit about her sexual longings.”
My goodness! Here was real proof that Lizzie was gay! Hats should have went off to Mr. Spiering for finding this gem of a letter, and for setting us all straight once and for all that Lizzie was most certainly not heterosexual.
Last spring when I was in Fall River, I was looking over some handwritten notes that Lizzie had penned. Michael Martins and I sat in the Historical Society archives and he explained each note as we read them together. It was thrilling to see things written by Lizzie, and I was interested in it all. Michael turned a page.
There was the “I dreamed of you . . .” note. He said, “And here is one that Lizzie wrote to her dressmaker, Mrs. Cummings.”
As soon as we read the first sentence I recognized it as the letter in Spiering’s book. I was extremely surprised. I didn’t have my copy of Spiering with me on the trip, but that part of his book had been fused in my memory as this proof of Lizzie’s sexuality.
There was nothing sexual about it, once you knew to whom she was writing and that you realized its context, by reading the prior note concerning her marriage rumor—that she and Mrs. Cummings were not only dressmaker and client but good friends as well.
Lizzie Borden was written up in the papers almost every time she stuck her head out the door of Maplecroft. She could have dreamed Mrs. Cummings was making Lizzie a wedding dress. Or Mrs. Cummings was flying with an umbrella ala Mary Poppins. Anything Lizzie wrote on paper could possibly get into the wrong hands and twisted about in any way desired. I think that this incident with Mr. Spiering is a perfect example of that.
When Spiering writes that Mrs. Brigham told him the letter was written to a “young woman”— well, at best I think I can say he had his fingers crossed. I do not believe that Mrs. Brigham showed Frank Spiering this note and simply said that it was written to a young woman, when the Historical Society knew that Lizzie wrote it to her dressmaker, Mrs. Cummings, a beloved friend.
I have had the pleasure of seeing Mrs. Brigham years ago, and from all accounts I have heard from those that worked with her and knew her, Mrs. Brigham was one of those persons who was just about beyond reproach. She was a remarkable lady—kind, caring, and sweet. And she knew her Lizzie stuff. I believe there is no way that she would have shown Mr. Spiering this letter simply saying, “She wrote this one to a young woman. Ahem . . . (wink, wink).”
Did Mr. Spiering write this to deliberately mislead us, so that he was the one to break this news to the public or to make his book more interesting? I don’t know. I’ve told you what I believe. But this I find most interesting of all: the name of the chapter this “lesbian letter” appears in is entitled “The Lie.”
