This next article covers one of the most important themes for Mata at this time of her life: romance (again). Her diary for 1915 is the most detailed of all of her diaries, so this will be a longer article. So, without further ado, here is the story of Mata’s next romantic encounter.
After only a month after arriving in January 1915, she starts to have some sort of medical problem again, which she described as “A dreadful pain area located under my lung.” This required yet more doctors visits, though, as Mata recognizes, not with her beloved Dr. Middleton from Madison. But she strangest thing happens: she begins to fall for this doctor as well! His name was Treadwell. His full name was Dr. Glenn F. Treadwell, and he had been the physician of Friendship since 1912 and was 11 years older than Mata. The first entry where Mata expresses feelings towards him was February 27: “Up about 8:30. Sit in dining room—talk to Clara, she said ‘There comes doctor,’ + I flew upstairs! No one there but she, so entertains him until he asks where I am. Clara tells [him] I was here a minute ago. Of course, he knows now. Calls upstairs, + tells me to come down for he wishes to talk to me. Really, he is the limit, his third call here, and I am not desperately sick; but oh! that inglorious pain! He talks a long while. I wonder why C. always says [‘]he may give you a ride sometime.[‘] I doubt it. Yes I am beginning to like him—and dreams—dreams I have!! Will he ever ask me? As I told Clara, he’ll think about ‘what will people say?[‘] I shall be able to speak of this June 1. Then I’ll know whether or not he will or shall or hasn’t ask[ed] me. Do I want to ride with him—yes I do?—really! There’s a queer feeling about it—’That half way between consciousness + the other world’ as Zora Gale implies. I’ll even be happy if he should ask me.”
But she would apparently change her mind. Only 2 days later, on March 1, Mata, writing about some acquaintances: “Wonder if they were with Doc. Well! I guess there will be no more twixt he + I—I guess I’ll add it too, to my many, many vain dreams. But the time here is yet young—wait!!!”
And yet, she still wrote about him afterward, clearly not actually having come to terms with how she felt about the doctor, torturing herself about a love that she had already deemed impossible. Even more than a month later, on April 13, she still has not let him go, as evidenced by an encounter that she wrote about: “Dr. comes out at noon! My chance to see him if I had only left the house just then, I opened the door, he stood there and I simply let him stand there until Mrs. D. said—’Come in.’ It looked as if I was admitting him + yet! I wanted to leave but didn’t going into Clara—+ then leaning. Oh! I do make crude situations continually. Fool that I am! Wish I could meet him once to have him ask me—about my health you no [sic.] etc. But nothing comes my way—only! Mere things out of which arise no consequences!” After yet another lengthy encounter with Dr. Treadwell the next day, Mata has a moment of self-reflection: “Why record all this? Well, it was for me a tinge of enjoyment + contact with one I unconsciously seem to dream + think about. I haven’t tasted enuf [sic.] of life’s joys to know all possible likes. I suppose this passed out of his mind like a flash; I cling over it—and why—Maybe some day I can explain this indispensable subconscious feeling.”
But with more time, her attachment to this Dr. Treadwell only seemed to increase, reaching very intense levels, as indicated in this rambling yet eloquent entry from April 21, which I will include in full: “Uneventful except about 5:45. Went to supper earlier than usual. On my way met Doctor. Coincidence, Mrs. Holm sick—I go to supper unheard of early and just then Dr. must leave house. Walked up to hotel, stopped and talked there a little—but I was so real fussed that I didn’t say anything straight—and now when I retrospec [sic.]! I see him in a ridiculous situation—did he want to get away + I did not or what—really—truly—I can’t fathom his thoughts—but it may have been so. Again that ques[tion] of his, how is work! I said if I had other talents I would not teach etc.—and he said ‘You have undeveloped ones’—and—and—well—I at least like it better when he does not approach [the] teaching topic. Does he know any[thing] disastrous about me or it! Well! lately I have meet [met] him so often + a chance to talk. Are our thoughts mutual. Oh! you conscience! why torment me with such impossibilities—yet nevertheless my mind, it centers thereon no matter where to I turn. Told me I looked so much better now than before etc. Yes! my inner conscience bespeaks a real feeling. I wish it were indifference but I am assured it is not, any further developments! No! each preceding one seems to foreshadow vacancy. I am helpless—if he makes no advances I leave here in 7 weeks ne’er to return and again a wound in that vital organ (Oh such sentimentality[)]. Yet I love just a bit—it is something.”
Less than two weeks later, on May 2, Mata is still torturing herself thinking about Dr. Treadwell, first scolding herself for her behavior then going on a lengthy, emotional monologue reminiscent of a Victorian romance novel: “Home—find Dr. here to see Mr. Smith. About 10 to 6 he comes into dining room + we talk. I show him my pictures. If I could only keep from acting so wiggly! Be a woman I say! Brace yourself into a manner that will be strength—not weakness. Why don’t I act like one who has brains. Enuf [sic.] I corrected myself—now mind, young woman. Stand straight—and be firm. You surely lost all control of yourself today. Be firm next time and your personal appearance will improve one hundred fold in his estimation. So ‘watch your step.’ He is invited to supper—I am not. Go to hotel—Return very quickly—and again I wiggle + squirm—they had not eaten yet! Dr. talks about tipping etc. Ask[ed] me if we have ‘extra’ sun. I interpret this way—Extra (men thought)—yes not so many so many. Joke on me. He surely gets me ‘fussed.’ But I have made no resolutions so I am better off now! Just see if I won’t record a more spirited mental retrospect than what I recorded this evening. Again! why do I place thoughts about how Isn’t he tonight listening to that one in Adams! What am I in his estimation—not a straw. I must not let myself have such feeling toward. Yes! I love him. Haven’t I given way to such confessions before—oh womanly passion can’t you desist. Were he to take me, would I feel the same? He makes no move to come nearer only as an acquaintance—and I am thinking—thinking—only to meet him. Now one wish only—may it be granted me that I may see him once alone! Only a few days more and all will be closed. I must not let myself suffer for not gaining his love. It is all on my part. No it seems my conscience admits no analysis! It cries for that which it cannot have—Love!If there be mutual telepathy—that and only that will bring him to me—just once alone—Doctor knowest thou I call you. Strength now—woman’s control—when you meet him again.”
May 6 brought more of the same thoughts: “This A.M. I left for school at 8:15. Saw Dr. coming so I start out—he, however overtook me (he was driving and pulled up his horses and said, ‘I wish you’d give your scholars a vacation and ride to the country with me.’ I said Oh! wouldn’t I love to!!!—If I only could I added half depressingly. Again, here upon this passing remark made only casually I have clung all day. It alone gave me energy and spirit to carry thru my day’s tasks. Many would have forgotten it. I think he did, but I grasped it from my memory, placed it before many every hour today. If I had more diversions I should not count this—but to me it was more than a word of cheer—more—more—than the world to me. Why! oh! do I love him! Would I did not. All this is for myself—it is my feeling—he will never know what I leave behind. May I ask it—only once again—for a long hour with him even less would weave a golden coverlet to wrap about me in future dream hours. Oh! doctor, couldn’t thou but know. I’ll read all this—and it will bring only sad memories—but somehow I cannot do naught but write my real thoughts may I pray for an opportunity. Yes, I think my prayer would be unreserved. Yes love do what I shall give to him who loves me—not for a home, but for love. Such a dreary night.”
She had also made a friend, a fellow teacher who was around the same age named Nell Daly (though Mata misspelled the name as “Daily”). However, Mata’s first impression of Miss Daly was not exactly positive as evidenced by the first entry that mentions her. On April 15, Mata went to a dance, along with a number of other locals. Miss Daly and another woman, Miss Greenwood came with two men, and Mata felt that they had purposely avoided introducing the men to her. Mata was not happy: “[Y]es, the Misses Daily and Greenwood keep their men away—neither introduce me to the ‘man’ they came with. Yes, those are the girls! but why—are they exceptional? No, only some of the thousands who are untaught in society’s extreme artificiality, but merely exercise instinct and so create ‘class’ among themselves.”
But she would soon get over this incident. She enjoyed talking about Dr. Treadwell with Nell, as evidenced by this entry from April 18: “On way back the Dr. seeing us came back to meet us + insisted that I come to supper—that is Dr. was as Daily said ‘wanting worse than ever to have me.'” The very next day, Nell and another of Mata’s friends came to a conclusion about Dr. Treadwell: “Both decide that Dr. has a crush! And believe it is mutual! Yes! I must admit on my part it is—Now! no more advances. If he wishes to see me more—he must find a way.” Now, Mata had it on good authority that Dr. Treadwell liked her, though it all seemed to be just hearsay.
May 9 is one of her longest diary entries, taking the reader on an emotional rollercoaster from pleading to hope to bliss, all in the course of a single entry: “My unconscious thoughts concerning the doctor—are these—I arose at 7:30 (altho [sic.] sleepy) dressed + went down, waiting. Shall I call it that. I make unhappiness come over me thru [sic.] my vain wishing. A ride—oh! Interpreter, do you realize the torments I pass thru [sic.]; the gloom—because that thought never becomes a visual one? There is no chance! Why, look and long unceasingly. Just that remark of that morning made my hopes spring high. Wasn’t I happy then! Just those very words that I waited for—but with what effect! Impossibility not to be overcome unless by lawlessness. There is even in the waiting a pleasantness, sometimes yet when that hour of expectancy has passed. Oh! then that tangible downcast feeling—Doctor, if only you had not been here—I could leave this place with a carefreeness, ne’er before known. My inner plea is so strong though—that you must hear me! Dost thou not oh! God tell him too? Oh what vain longing in these last pages of my biography. It is too hard to express. Sunday is yet before me—and then????…Yes an eventful day. Has God answered my prayers! He has partly. Developments. On way home from church Dr. T walks back to Miss D. + I and they arrange it that I walk with him. He asked me where my flower garden was—if I had a friend etc. I said no, I was my own friend! Well on the way passing his office—doctor does not say very much. I am unusually silent but open up com. twice—then D. helps me out—we end up at his office. Rest for home. At 1 I call for Daily, we go to hotel for dinner. I eat little more than nothing. Ice cream last night set my stomach on a whack. After seeing the mound—Roch E Chree[sic] stream etc. we go to Dailys room + to see new dress. She expecting company from Adams, I depart hastily. Write home, then go to office—see Mae + we start for hike—Meet Dr.—but a very formal How do you do! Go for a long stroll until we get to cemetery we sat ourselves upon a log and rest. Jack etc. I guess everyone is immediate in trust with me knows where to my in trust drifts. Mr. Smith says “I guess by your actions![“] Well nothing doing after supper I go home. Dance the reel, then piano—Agnes + Magdalen come up + we took pictures. Oh! I look like a blinking idiot on the picture Agnes took! Where! Well, laughing, playing etc.—enter doctor—Wasn’t I surprised. Almost went on to Draeger’s, thought I saw him go away in auto—Yes, all worked like a charm—He jollied me about the pictures etc. Wanted one! I kid it etc. An informal half hour; I play wretchedly, then he departs with Ms. Smith. So Dr. leaves for Fond du Lac in A.M. Our events have surely been interesting. And Daily confidentially told me this noon. Dr. T. likes you (between you and me). Does he? Why doesn’t he come then? Hasn’t it begun—but this may end! My hopes are never realized—but my prayers have been introductarily [sic.] answered. God is good. Only one wish—To be with him alone, by his request. And Daily wants me up there for supper this week! Yes I am happy tonight—Why that pang when he left the room tonight. Is he impossible? Oh! Oh! I never dreamed of this—And today I dream of strawberries—It means love. Dr. wanted me to play ‘Dream of Heaven’—yea a coincidence verily I say. Good night, ‘dear Interpreter’—I am better pleased now!”
But she would not be pleased for long. First, Nell Daly started acting a bit strange, and another of Mata’s friends had some insider information on May 12: “Tonight I hear that Miss Daily is thinking wrong of me:–she feels that she must weigh her words. I am glad that Miss D. told me this. Tomorrow, I shall call on Miss Daily and fix it all up—I noticed she acted strangely toward me. Oh! it’s my impulsive actions again; pretending I am angry etc. Oh! Luck! but I pray that her heart will revert from this thought.” Fortunately, this was resolved the next day, and Mata continued expressing her romantic hopes: “So many rumors have come forth that it has grown to be only a big golden butterfly always far out of reach—an illusion—a dream. I do not dare hope for it—for then it won’t surely come to pass. See nothing of Dr. all day. There maybe it is better so because I must forget him. It will be easier to forget now—or begin to. Yes, if he’d only knows I am sure he would come. Oh! but ‘he is taken’ is the death knell to those vague hopes I had.” It was more of the same on May 19: “Daily gave me the two dearest compliments and one from the doctor—worth more than gold to me—but how little she knows—how I do cherish those (no not sentimentally) but in a brave, pure way—love.”
On May 24, Mata went out with a friend named Clara on a scenic drive, but when they returned, Mata saw something: “[J]ust when we arrived home—there came the Dr. with team—beside him sat a girl—I am sure it was Miss Daily. If it were she, I’d be heart broken—for I know she likes him too. Could I only have boarded there—yes, perhaps—but who knows. Dr. can’t you hear how I want to be with you once—but I know you don’t care. It is all love on my part. Yet, I cannot give up my thoughts even on that basis. If I only could avoid seeing you! Every glimpse makes a new stab—a new start—and it all pains. Now I know that thoughts as I have are not sentiment—no they are vital bonds becoming firmer every hour—from which there is no release—until you come.”
Mata confronted her about this shortly afterward. In the entry for the next day, Mata writes: “Now what Miss Daily said. I put her down as going with Dr. She said: Oh! he is to me like a brother—he would never ask me anywhere—but I shall try to have him ask you. Say, but ‘such things’ are too idyllic to happen to me! If it would then once my cup of happiness would be overflowing. I must not say too much; for this may all rise up in thin air.” The day after that, there were plans for an upcoming dance, but Mata could only think about the doctor: “Yes, a dance but whom will I go with—there is a possibility of Dr. taking a new town girl—altho Daily has listed him as mine—this is a case where there is pure fiction—his name + mine linked on the card. Wish it were the truth! Conscience dost thou dare ask one such a question! But also it is truth—and that is stranger than fiction. For him to ask me would unbounded glory—outside of heaven! But if he only dances with me if we have it that will be glory too”
At this dance, Mata arrived when the third dance had begun, and I’ll let her describe what happened next: “Immediately Dr. asked me—and too, for the next one—my spirits rose—later a third—but the last. Three times he sat away from me when I was not dancing—Admired my violets—told him I picked them alone—asked why I went alone—he liked to pick violets, too. We just chattered back and forth about this, gaily indeed. He wanted a violet which I gave him—said he’d wear it in his watch for rest of life! Was there any significance in this? Does it answer what I have so long thought—his love? No, I think it is only a remark that he may make any time—he is heart whole—loves fun—may jolly with any girl—I am only one—and then forgotten. I wonder what he thinks?” But later, Mata’s mood nosedived. “Sat next to Dr. but after supper came the blow! No more dances with him—once only he sat down with Daily + I and talked a little—oh! and then they danced the second moonlight dance—he said ‘Come, this is pretty let’s dance it’—to Daily—oh! that cut so deeply—I hated dance—loathed it. Wanted to go. Yes, all rest of my dances were duty dances…Yes, I sat out many, many I the instigator—ungrateful people—I have awful drop in thermometer of my life! Future prospects—none—none—none—. Oh! the elements fortold of it truthfully. Dr. you were the one impetus that led me to suggest dance—It is all decided. I have nothing left but a few weeks of disparate sorrow.”
The next day, Mata went flower-picking with some friends, but she could only think about the previous night: “Every flower I picked brot [sic] last night’s association. Why did not I ask him to go picking violets sometime—Is that what he wanted—but Daily says, ‘he promises a lot and doesn’t do it.’ Maybe if I should get a little chance I think I shall mention it to him! the violet episode—but when will that be?” The next day, Mata was still thinking about, even tapping into her other failed romance with Dr. Middleton: “Last year at Madison I only attended Baptist services there because Dr. Middleton did. I came down; now I attend because Dr. T. attends here. I could have loved M. then as I like Dr. T. now. Tonight he sat in front of us. Services over he turned to me + smiled very much—saying, ‘Have you gotten over your dissappation [sic.]?’ I said “partly; but is that what you call it?” Dr. all day I waited for you—if you only knew it! Why couldn’t I not have left this place heart whole? I wonder if he has forgotten all about me too.”
Even though Mata’s felt she had failed at romance with Dr. Treadwell, Miss Daly had assured her that she saw the doctor as a brother and nothing more. Mata’s hopes were revived, despite any signs she thought she had picked up on at the dance. On May 31, she had another opportunity to talk with Dr. Treadwell, though they didn’t have complete alone time: “There we lay, both of us—I, of course, jumped up + he laughed when he caught us so. Was I happy—God—I thank you again—for this opportunity. I may have walked with D. but not for anything did I pray, nor wait 3 days for him to come and on the evening of our last holiday, he came. Well, all the family was there, but anyway it was good just to have him. Again our “violet story.” Teased me about fact that he does actually think so. Again said, ‘I told you I like to pick flowers’—and I said, ‘Allright [sic.], then you must tell me—but again he believed I did not go ‘alone.’ I wonder if he really means it—or does he only say that, just all in fun! At times I think he means it all. Talked about dance. He said ‘I told him so many things that night.’ Mr. S teases me + I threw pillows, Dr. laughs. He saw Clara + I start on our drive, too. Talked about dances—past and future. [When] he left I said ‘Dr. Treadwell whenever you want some violets let me know.’ He ‘And then you’ll pick some for me?[‘] Yes, I answered and he was off. Now I feel glad again—but soon all clouds over and I’ll be just once more unhappy—and if only those + 2 old teachers wouldn’t but[t] in here—I’d surely be more than happiness! Only God I ask to help me more—make him see that I am more and more in faith and my love is greater.”
As commencement day approached, Mata felt herself feeling more and more pessimistic about anything happening between her and Dr. Treadwell, knowing that she would have to move to yet another school. She didn’t know where, but it would probably be far away. On June 2, she had another interaction with the doctor: “I dared call to him—[“]Dr. have you that violet yet[?”] [“]Which one[?] Oh! Yes, yes I have it. I’ll keep it forever![“] I said ‘Oh! I don’t believe you unless I see it.’ He: ‘It looks pretty badly crushed, I wore it so hard, but I shall keep it as long as I live.’—and he was off. Yes, surely I saw him often this last Fri. dance. That may be the last—each meeting seems to be the last one! Here I record this—and in a week more I’ll only regret reading these past memories. And he—never will I be a part of his memory—he only leaves hearts torn.”
And in the next day’s entry, we can see her try to overcome her romantic trauma and seemingly coming to accept the outcome by convincing herself that it never would have happened: “Saw Dr. only once, when he scooted by in auto when I was leaving hotel. Somehow or other I feel that I must sacrifice my thoughts—and as the end approaches it seems a bit easier—for I know he has no affection for me.”
The next day (June 4), she happened to meet the doctor again by chance: “Just approaching toward court house was Dr. I wondered if he’d notice me—as I crossed over the field toward the court house. Yes, indeed he slowed up + finally stopped and waited for me—a most informal meeting we had yet—no exchange of greeting said I must have eaten an unusually big dinner… And I said [I] will be gone—He ‘You can stay over,’ you can be here—he taking for granted that staying over was the least of all to contend with. Yes, now I know him more and like him as a friend. My wish? No, never! I must not let it cloud my thoughts any longer.”
But, as in the past, just when Mata seems like she had come to accept rejection, all the emotions come spilling out again, as it did on June 5: “Again about 5—just going over to get a film—I saw him turning back as the team came toward Smiths I sought refuge on the porch, instead of walking slowly and meeting him—He may have asked me to ride—but who knows… A bit of consolation—he stopped at the barn looking for Mr. S. Just tantalizing, about 2 P.M. he drove again. I need—why do I make myself unhappy—he won’t ask me—today was the last hour in the world—next week company—so I was right—the question is answered + the prophecy or augury filled, he did not ask me for a ride—And why? That must remain unanswered. It would be easier if I did not see him always with some one.”
She herself realizes and addresses her internal struggle in accepting all of this, writing the very next day: “[M]y inner conscience told me to expect this—I couldn’t see it that way—not until the actuallity [sic.] was tangible in the time presented. Now I know. Saw—oh! I can’t write it freely tonight—saw doctor at a distance. I’d dare to say I want his picture. Why does he keep away from me? He has interest in others! I have not: so that is the solution—and a hard answer to accept after it has been verified.”
Whereas before the relationship between Mata and Nell, now, at the very end of Mata’s stay in Friendship, there is some indication that there may have been some tension between the two. Mata recorded on June 7: “Daily called me up. I am sure she thought I had been riding with Dr. How could she? I may be wrong. Maybe I told her too much! I think—and yet I hardly want to—that she is not true. Anyway I cannot fathom her easily—but nevertheless I mistrust a little—and this I say with great difficulty—for I want to think the best of one I come in contact with as I did with her. I am a little affraid [sic.]—that there is jealousy—Why need she be! I am no rival of hers.”
And, finally, came Mata’s final private meeting with Dr. Treadwell on June 10: “That professional air of his, not a smile; not a suggestion of our former frivolities. I approach my subject in a usual round about way—finally get there—he promises a statement—Then we begin a half hour talk on school. yes, I felt I wanted to talk that over with him—and he assured me all his assistance—and he would get me a recommendation etc…Oh! and no dance—no one to go ahead—Dr. said he won’t and hasn’t time—Neither will I. Seniors want an after banquet dance. Well Miss Jacobson is here—proud, snobbish—light haired, homely oldish faced mortal—and doctor went with her? Oh! woe—woe! Doctor—is it love—no I think of him as an invaluable friend.”
However, she would see him again, as in the entry for the following day: “And Dr. well he came up with Miss Daily—so I felt—well—wonder why he did not take Miss Jacobson? I make an attempt to speak—a fizzle—message on truth—Friendship etc.” And her very final meeting with him came on June 13: “Met Dr. + team on way home. Dr. stops + asks why I wasn’t home to take picture—said—[“]why Oh! I am sorry—you must come in morning.” Will he! God help my prayer thou hast done this—it must come! But maybe he does not know that I want him to come. This late, I must end—and my thoughts are more than words.” The next day, she left Friendship, Wisconsin. And with that, Dr. Glenn F. Treadwell went out of Mata’s life forever.
A few days before she left, she wrote a short blurb that, in a way, summarizes her entire one-sided romantic affair with the doctor: “Wait 11 weeks for a young doctor to ask you riding. Then after waiting unavailingly he drives up on this fine June morning and calls for the H.S. assistant of 3 years ago, the snob that she is. Like D. I am disappointed in the Dr.’s choice. Now, isn’t that a blow unkinder than unkind, to my conscience. I knew he’s never ask me but it was sweet (oh slush) to hope—the blasted hope was all premeditated.”
But there is one more interesting tidbit in this story. When searching for any information about Dr. Treadwell online, I could only find one article—though a very informative one—from a site that focuses on the history of Adams County, Wisconsin. Arriving at the part of this short biography that talks about the doctor’s marriage, I was shocked at what I found. In 1919, Dr. Treadwell married a schoolteacher named…Nell Daly!
unpublishedhistory 