The Intimate Sex Lives of Famous People

by David Wallechinsky

  HIS THOUGHTS: Although Wolfe was a sexual athlete, he longed for family life and would often ask friends if they knew a nice girl he could marry. “I believe in love, and in its power to redeem and save our lives. I believe in the loved one, the redeemer and savior,” he wrote when his love for Aline was at zenith. “I can always find plenty of women to sleep with, but the kind of woman that is really hard for me to find is a typist who can read my writing,” he once said. To Wolfe, the ability to cook well indicated a sensual personality. He would often surprise women he was interested in by asking, “Are you a good cook?” Wolfe kept a list of women he had not yet slept with but intended to. He did not plan to marry until he was around 35, “after possessing hundreds of women all over the globe.” In the end, still unmarried, his last thoughts were of Aline, his greatest love. Just before he died, Wolfe whispered, “Where’s Aline? … I want Aline … I want my Jew.”

  —R.J.R.

  The Chaste Pornographer

  ÉMILE ZOLA (Apr. 2, 1840-Sept. 28, 1902)

  HIS FAME: A writer and critic, Zola authored the famous open letter titled “J’accuse” (“I accuse”) that defended Capt. Alfred Dreyfus, a French Jew falsely accused of treason. Zola’s novels, like Nana, shocked France with their scatology and descriptions of sex, and this realism influenced the course of Western literature.

  Zola with Jeanne Rozerot in 1899

  HIS PERSON: Zola’s father, an Italian engineer, died suddenly, leaving his French wife and their six-year-old son penniless in Aix-en-Provence. When he was seven Zola was sexually molested by a servant named Mustapha, and the experience left him with a lifelong loathing of homosexuals. In 1857 his mother moved to Paris, and Émile joined her the following year. During the next two years Zola failed his baccalaureate examination twice at the Lycée St. Louis.

  During adolescence Zola was a romanticist who read and wrote poetry. After failing his graduation exams, the shy country poet lost his naiveté when unemployment forced him to live in a “louse-infested lodging house packed with thieves and prostitutes.” The story that he avoided starvation by trapping sparrows on the roof and pawning his pants is undoubtedly an exaggeration, but it is indicative of his poverty.

  In 1871 he published the first of his novels, which illustrated his theory of naturalism. This theory postulated that man’s actions are determined by heredity and environment. One of his “obscene” (but best-selling) books, La Terre [Earth], even provoked a “manifesto” which suggested that the depravity in the novel was caused by “an illness of the loins” that had made the author impotent.

  Zola was extremely nervous, a hypochondriac, and so sensitive that a pinprick would send shooting pains up his arm. He possessed “delicate, mobile, astonishingly expressive hands” and a similarly expressive nose with a highly developed sense of smell. He was nearsighted and he lisped, but he had a beautiful tenor voice. Zola was a solid man, 5 ft. 6 in. tall, with brown hair and beard, and a face that perpetually wore a melancholy expression. A gourmand, by middle age he tipped the scales at 224 lb., but after 1887 he lost much weight by following a low-liquid, no-wine diet.

  LOVE LIFE: As a youth Zola was infatuated with Louise Solari, a friend’s younger sister, but since she was only 12 when he left for Paris, a romantic attachment seems doubtful. Years later a story surfaced that Zola had courted a young girl called Jeanne (supposedly a pseudonym for Louise) by picking bunches of grapes because he was too shy to express himself verbally. She ate as many as she could, then thanked him and returned home.

  During the years he lived in red-light districts, Zola no doubt learned much about sex from his noisy neighbors, and he might have had firsthand experience as well. Some biographers contend that he lived with a prostitute, who left the starving writer for more comfortable circumstances.

  At the age of 25 Zola began courting Alexandrine Meley, a tall, striking brunette a year older than he, who worked as a seamstress. The manner of their meeting is unknown. One story says they were introduced by Paul Cézanne, who had been Alexandrine’s lover. In another version, she attracted Zola’s attention because she was weeping hysterically over her previous lover’s desertion. In any event, Alexandrine became his mistress, and four years later, in May, 1870, they were married.

  The marriage was not sexually successful. Just five years later Zola confided to male friends that they had intercourse only every 10 days. Even this periodic passion was soon spent. Zola’s repressed sexuality twisted him with guilt, and his conflict was augmented by his belief that sex without procreation was reprehensible. He and Alexandrine never had children, even though both desperately wanted a family, and this surely contributed to the marital coldness and discord.

  Physically faithful to Alexandrine, Zola poured his repressed passion into his work, producing over 20 books, such as Nana and Pot-Bouille, where vivid descriptions of nakedness and copulation aroused the critics if not Zola himself. After 18 years of a marriage that provided little in the way of either sex or love, Zola at 48 was fat, unhappy, and aged. He confessed he was “plagued by the desire to go to bed with a very young girl … who had not yet reached puberty.”

  Beginning in 1887, his life changed incredibly. He started losing weight and, the following year, he met Jeanne Rozerot. She was just 20 years old, tall, dark-eyed, and modestly surprised that Zola noticed her. He rapidly fell in love and moved her into an apartment.

  Jeanne bore Zola two children, Denise and Jacques. He was as devoted to them as he was to their mother, who gave him a happiness he had never known and, presumably, a satisfactory sex life. Zola was very protective and loving toward Jeanne. He disliked the fact that she was forced to live as a recluse because of him, but Jeanne seems to have been content, calling him her “Prince Charming.”

  After years of juggling two households successfully, Zola was aghast when an anonymous letter informed Alexandrine of his mistress and children. Alexandrine raged and threatened separation, but eventually her tirades subsided. She met the children, and after Jeanne’s death she watched over them, legally gave them Zola’s name, and made them her heirs.

  Zola’s affair ended when he died accidentally (some suggested it was murder by political enemies) as the result of carbon monoxide poisoning.

  —P.A.R.

  VI

  Poetic Licence

  Scotland’s Bawdy Bard

  ROBERT BURNS (Jan. 25, 1759-July 21, 1796)

  HIS FAME: Recognized as Scotland’s national poet, Robert Burns earned his greatest acclaim for his first published volume, Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect. He is best known as the author of such widely quoted lines as “The Best Laid schemes o’ mice and men / Gang aft a-gley”; “O my Luve’s like a red, red rose, / That’s newly sprung in June”; “Man’s inhumanity to man”; “Oh wad some power the giftie gie us / to see oursels as ithers see us!”; and the ever popularShould auld acquaintance be forgot,

  And never brought to min’?

  Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

  And days o’ auld lang syne?

  One of his collections of songs, The Merry Muses of Caledonia, which contains his bawdiest lyrics, was not published for the general public in uncensored form until 1965.

  HIS PERSON: Robert Burns was the oldest of seven children born to William and Agnes Burnes (Robert changed the spelling in 1786), who leased a small farm in the county of Ayrshire. Robert received most of his formal education from John Murdoch, a tutor hired by the local farmers, who encouraged him to study literature.

  At 22 Robert left home for Irvine to study to be a flax dresser, but he was forced to return after his patron’s shop burned down. His father died two years later, and Robert and his brother Gilbert moved the family to a new farm. He earned a local reputation for his poetry and in July, 1786, he arranged for Poems to be printed in Kilmarnock. Near the end of the year, the young poet set out for Edinburgh, where he received honor, praise, and 100 guineas for the copyright to his popular book. He made several tours of the Scot
tish countryside, working on two collections of traditional songs, without pay, considering it a duty to his country. By then he had a wife and several children (legitimate and illegitimate) to support, and the family farm was close to failure. So in September, 1789, he accepted a position with the excise service as a tax inspector. He did well at this job and earned a promotion in 1792. But these years were marred by rumors of his drinking and controversies over his support of the French Revolution. He continued to write poetry until he suffered a severe attack of rheumatic fever and died in 1796.

  At 5 ft. 10 in., Robert Burns was above average in height, and he had a large build. But his most striking feature was his wide, deep-set eyes, which gave a look of innocence to the “peasant poet.” Burns’ legendary drinking habits have been refuted by most biographers, but his sexual reputation is well substantiated by personal letters, legal records of paternity suits, and his poems.

  SEX LIFE: To Robert Burns, love and poetry were inseparable. Consequently, many of his poems chronicled his experiences, relationships, and rejections. At 15, his first love, by his own account, was Nelly Kirkpatrick, his partner in the traditional harvest festivities and the subject of the first poem he ever wrote, “Handsome Nell.” Their relationship was quite innocent, and his affection mostly unrequited, as was also the case with his later courtship of Alison Begbie. He wrote Alison a series of romantic, but very proper, love letters, leading up to a proposal of marriage, followed by a polite acknowledgment of her rejection. But during a brief stay in Irvine, he became friends with a sailor, Richard Brown, who encouraged him toward looser ways and, in Burns’ words, “did me mischief.”

  Rural society in Scotland was sexually quite open, and marriage usually occurred after the woman became pregnant. Both common-law and trial marriages were frequent. And even the Church would forgive fornication for a small fine and the acceptance of a rebuke before the congregation. However, it was not until after his father’s death that Robert dared to make love to Elizabeth Paton, a servant girl working in his mother’s household. Their relationship was short, passionate, and fruitful; a daughter was born in May, 1785. He wrote a poem to mark the occasion, “Welcome to a Bastart Wean.” The child was named Elizabeth. (In his lifetime Burns had three daughters out of wedlock, each by a different woman, and all three daughters were named Elizabeth.) Miss Paton did not demand marriage, but after Poems was published, she sought and won “a certain sum,” then disappeared from Burns’ life, leaving behind their little girl. Another of his poems, “The Fornicator,” chronicled the whole affair, including the rebuke he received in Church.

  Before the Congregation wide,

  I passed the muster fairly,

  My handsome Betsy by my side,

  We gat our ditty rarely;

  But my downcast eye by chance did spy

  What made my lips to water,

  Those limbs so clean where I, between,

  Commenc’d a Fornicator.

  The poet blithely went on to his next affair. Jean Armour, six years younger than Burns and probably one of the most beautiful women in his life, was well aware of the reputation he had already earned. In February, 1786, she informed him that she was pregnant, and they signed a document recognizing each other as man and wife. But Jean’s father, a master mason, preferred having an illegitimate grandchild to an impoverished son-in-law. He had a lawyer destroy the signed document and sent Jean to live with relatives. Feeling quite betrayed, Burns made plans to leave Scotland for Jamaica with another woman, Mary Campbell. Little is known about “Highland Mary,” except that Burns considered her the personification of innocence and purity. That may have been a poor judgment, since there is evidence that she was the same Mary Campbell who had been mistress to several notable Scotsmen of the time. She was pregnant by Burns, but died suddenly, possibly in childbirth, just after his poems had been published.

  During the months spent in Edinburgh and in touring the Scottish countryside, Robert Burns had a wide assortment of relationships with women whose social status varied sharply. He had a long and loving correspondence with Mrs. Frances Dunlop, a prominent widow with 13 children, to whom he confided his other affairs. He proposed marriage to Margaret Chalmers, daughter of a gentleman farmer, who turned him down in favor of a banker. A brief encounter in Edinburgh with May Cameron, a servant girl, resulted in another paternity claim and his second daughter Elizabeth. However, his most unusual relationship was that with Agnes Maclehose, an Edinburgh woman whose husband lived in Jamaica. Burns wrenched his knee before he was to meet Mrs. Maclehose, and their rendezvous had to be postponed. Instead she wrote to him, and their correspondence turned very romantic. They even gave each other mythical names. He was “Sylvander,” she was “Clarinda.” But after Robert was back on his feet, Clarinda would allow the relationship to go no further, so he sought out a servant girl, Jenny Clow, who bore him a son. Jenny later made a claim for additional support, contacting a surprised Robert Burns through Mrs. Maclehose.

  Meanwhile, Burns was reunited with Jean Armour. He briefly visited his home during his first tour in June, 1787, and found that Mr. Armour had changed his opinion of the newly successful poet. In fact, he locked Robert and Jean in her bedroom that night, to insure “a happy reunion.” When Burns returned again the next spring, Jean was nine months pregnant and in a foul mood. He wrote to a friend that he cheered her up with vigorous lovemaking “till she rejoiced with joy unspeakable and full of glory.” Then the author of the poem “Nine Inch Will Please a Lady” commented: “O, what a peacemaker is a guid weel-willy pintle! It is the mediator, the guarantee, the umpire, the bond of union, the solemn league and covenant, … the sword of mercy, the philosopher’s stone, the horn of plenty, and the Tree of Life between Man and Woman.” That same day, Jean gave birth to twins (both of whom died in infancy), and Robert and Jean were married a month later. They had four more children.

  But neither married life nor his position with the excise service could fully control Burns’ passions. In 1791 there was another claim, this one from Anne Park, the barmaid at a local inn. Jean was totally understanding and ended up raising the child, the third Elizabeth. Burns was a frequent guest of the area’s richer families, including the Riddells of Woodley Park. Mrs. Maria Riddell was one of his most fervent admirers, and there were rumors that their relationship was extremely intimate. One evening near Christmas, 1793, Burns attended a party at Woodley Park. Everyone was drinking heavily, and someone suggested that they amuse themselves with a mock “Rape of the Sabine Women.” Burns went after Mrs. Riddell with more enthusiasm and realism than the other guests could accept; for the first time in his life, Robert Burns had compromised himself with a woman whose status was higher than his.

  One of his letters, published posthumously, was addressed to his younger brother William. In this he advised William to “try for intimacy as soon as you feel the first symptoms of the passion,” since it was “the best preservation for one’s peace.” He considered himself “a very Poet in my enthusiasm of the Passion,” and declared that “the welfare & happiness of the beloved Object, is the first & inviolate sentiment that pervades my soul.” But toward such matters as marriage he was totally practical and unsentimental. “To have a woman to lye with when one pleases, without running any risk of the cursed expense of bastards…. These are solid views of matrimony.”

  In his short lifetime Robert Burns successfully broke all of his own rules.

  —C.L.W.

  The Bride Of Silence

  EMILY DICKINSON (Dec. 10, 1830-May 15, 1886)

  HER FAME: Dickinson was something of a literary sphinx. Working alone, completely outside the mainstream of American life and art, she composed some of the finest poetry ever written by a woman. Her most famous poems include “I Never Saw a Moor,” “I Died for Beauty,” and “Because I Could Not Stop for Death.” There have been several dramatized versions of her life, including The Belle of Amherst (1976).

  HER PERSON: Emily Dickinson grew up in hi
gh-minded gentility in the remote college town of Amherst, Mass. Her father, whom she adored, was treasurer of Amherst College, a lawyer, and a U.S. con-gressman; her mother was nervous, sickly, and retiring. The Dickinsons were a closely knit family, remaining together until Emily’s parents died. Neither Emily nor her sister, Lavinia, ever married, and when their brother, Austin, did, he simply moved next door.

  Dickinson at 17

  Emily was plain and shy, “small, like the wren,” with little to distinguish her except her “bold” red hair and “eyes like the sherry in the glass,” as she wrote Thomas Wentworth Higginson. When she returned home after a year at Mount Holyoke Female Seminary, she apparently enjoyed the customary dancing parties and the attentions of young beaux for a time. Gradually, however—amid rumors of thwarted love—she became a recluse, communicating with dearly beloved friends by letters, poems, and gifts of posies or cookies. Alone, she thrilled to the novels of the Brontë sisters; identified vicariously with Aurora Leigh, Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s poetic heroine; and wrote her own poems, which she bound into precious hand-sewn booklets. It was in 1862 that she first sought the advice of Thomas Wentworth Higginson, a prominent literary figure who was to become her “preceptor.” He continuously advised against publication of her poems, which he considered “strange” and “peculiar.”