26

EDUCATED WITHIN THE MATERIALIST AND prosaic medicine of the French schools of my era, and trained in the dissection room and on the battlefield, I’ve scarcely ever taken an interest in psychology, much less in hypnotism and phrenology. I feel I haven’t missed out on much and I don’t regret my lack of interest. That discipline has yet to produce a prophet, one who might offer a convincing explanation for depressive states, the cause of obsessions and irrational fear; one who might illuminate, with his science, the dark labyrinths in which crime and pleasure are born, dreams and hallucinations, desire and guilt and, above all, and most relevant to me, one who might decipher the riddle of love. Oh, how I would love to travel through time and listen to that teacher who will no doubt arrive; to have the opportunity to read his books so as to learn more about myself! Why have I been capable of loving other women without ceasing to be a woman myself and, without it preventing me from loving men with equal ardor and authenticity? The funny thing is, even supposing that such boundaryless love were the consequence of an abnormal psyche, I’ve never felt it as a misfortune, limitation, illness, or chronic aberration, nor even as a cause for concern. My desire has always taken shape in a completely natural way, as though it were a physiological function. For me, the genders seemed to disappear and, as occurs with friendship, I experienced feelings of love on a higher, more general plane, that is, as a human being. If I speak of this here, it is to make it very clear that I fell in love with Juanita not because I felt like a man or because I desired her as though she were one. I loved her woman to woman, as I loved Nadezhda and Fauriel. And I loved her blindly, heedless of the consequences that our union could bring.

Shall I reproduce here the proceedings from my trial, published in Cuban newspapers that portrayed me as an aberration, a bearded lady or spider woman or some other circus freak? I haven’t yet decided. It would be easy enough to find, among my papers, the newspaper serial entitled Enriqueta Faber. The Woman Doctor before the Court, hugely popular in Havana in those days, and copy out the pages as I think best. Yet, I hesitate. And it’s not that I put any stock in the words uttered by my judges, magistrates, prosecutors, and defenders. It’s that what was, for me, a true Mount Calvary, can be quite boring to read—the same vague accusations, the same arbitrary interpretations of the law, even my lawyer’s and my own justifications. Because, as the erudite Vidaurre, my defender in the appeals trial, would ask repeatedly: “Does any law exist that prohibits women from dressing as men, and that expressly punishes one who does so?” And, of course, there was no such law, and this void was filled instead with the prejudices of those who judged and condemned me.

While I have not forgotten the dates of my court appearances, it is impossible for me to pinpoint when I realized that Juanita, Chicoy, and Doña Asunción had set a trap for me. I can say only that, once married and installed as the woman of my house, Juanita transformed into another person. The passion she’d claimed to feel for me suddenly began to vanish, and the night came when she asked me to leave her alone, to go to sleep in a different room because my snoring kept her awake.

“Snoring? No one’s ever told me that I snore,” I replied.

“Well, you do. You can’t hear yourself because you sleep like a stone. You snore so much that I’m awake all night. Just look at how weak I am. I can barely walk anymore.”

When my desire would flare and, almost surreptitiously, I’d slip between the sheets of her bed—formerly my own—and begin to caress her, she’d stay motionless and mute as a statue or simply reject me out of hand.

“Leave me alone, Enriqueta. My head hurts. My cousin told me yesterday that marriage has not been good for me. He thinks I’m paler and more drawn than ever.”

“I think you’re better than you were. You’ve gained a few pounds and you almost never have fevers anymore,” I said idiotically. An idiot a thousand times over, since, despite all my education and everything I’d seen and lived through, it never occurred to me to think that those villagers might possess sufficient intelligence and cleverness to swindle me.

“What happens is that I get the fevers during the day, when you’re in your office. It’s a good thing that dear Chicoy comes to keep me company and read novels to me. If it weren’t for that, I don’t know what would become of me.”

One day I realized that I felt jealous of Chicoy, although I should clarify that never in my wildest dreams did it occur to me that there was anything between him and Juanita other than the affection that exists between relatives. It simply annoyed me that she, my wife, who had married me knowing that I was a woman and who had pledged me her eternal love, now appeared to prefer his company to mine.

“Chicoy is like a brother to me,” she would say, hearing my timid complaints. “I don’t know why it should bother you that he comes to visit me. We’ve always been very close. If you don’t believe me, ask my Aunt Asunción.”

I would never have dreamed of asking Doña Asunción anything, removed as she now was from Juanita and our conjugal situation. But after changing my mind once or twice, thinking it beneath me, I asked my servants how frequently Chicoy visited the house.

“Two, even three times a week,” said Filipa.

“Doña Juanita receives him in her room and they spend hours and hours in there,” said Norberta, making it clear that she found the matter quite suspect.

One afternoon, jealousy eating away at my insides, I closed my office and returned to the house. Even before I’d arrived, when, from the street, I saw Chicoy’s mule tied to one of my lemon trees, my heart began to pound in my chest. My hands trembled as I opened the door. Norberta came out from the kitchen to greet me or to ask me what I wanted for supper, but I signaled to her to stay quiet. I approached Juanita’s door. I assumed she’d have the bolt latched and I threw myself against it with all my force. Over the noise and the broken boards and hinges, I saw what I had not wanted to see: a flustered Juanita looking at me over Chicoy’s penis, still inside her mouth.

Naturally, she wouldn’t declare any of this in the complaint she lodged before the court in Santiago de Cuba. In the wretched pages her lawyer composed—and now I do think I should share certain details of my trial—she affirmed that: “In the year 1819, an individual purporting to be named Enrique Faber, with a degree as a Doctor of Surgery and a native of Switzerland, solicited my hand in marriage. Given the circumstances of orphanhood and destitution in which I found myself, I succumbed to said person’s wishes, without it having been possible for me to suspect that the intent of this abominable creature was to profane the sacraments and to mock my person in the most cruel and detestable manner possible, taking advantage of my good faith, my innocence, and the inexperience to which I was subject as a result of my great modesty. Certain details, which decency prevents me from mentioning, obliged me to spy on this individual’s movements until once, believing me asleep, said individual became careless, and I was able to confirm her true condition. This discovery, which the monster was not expecting, obliged her to confess to me her incapacity for the conjugal state, and she humiliated herself to the extreme of telling me that she would allow me the freedom to take as lovers whatever men I so chose, since our separation was not convenient for her business. Finding these ideas unworthy of any person of even the most minimal morality, and incapable of consenting to her proposals, which were as disgraceful as they were scandalous, I rejected them outright. The false husband, having been made aware of my repulsion and of the indignation resulting from the hoax she had inflicted upon me, offered to absent herself immediately so that no one would ever discover her whereabouts and my misfortune would never become public. In effect, she left Baracoa before I could ascertain her plans and situation; but instead of going someplace far away to hide her defects, she settled in Tiguabos, where of late it is rumored that said doctor is a woman, just as I am. This rumor having reached my ears, and in consideration of the fact that the people who thought it to be true might be disposed to declaring it, I now find myself in the position of having to request nullification of my marriage and the punishment that such excesses merit, so that they might serve as a warning and so that, in the future, said individual might not sacrifice another unlucky woman such as myself, making a mockery of the most sacred institutions of our magnificent religion and of the social order; since, while out of modesty I have maintained my silence for four years, Divine Providence has demanded that the public become aware of these crimes so that they do not go unpunished, and so that my spurious spouse may not find new victims to humiliate.”

Hearing the judge read that string of falsehoods, I thought it would be easy to refute them. As for the matter of my true sex, it was a case of her word against mine, and I enjoyed public esteem and held a position as an official of the Protomedicato. I should add that, while I had already been arrested and taken to jail, I was still dressed as a man. What follows is a transcription of the interrogations to which I was subjected, reproduced exactly as they appeared in publication:

JUDGE: State your name, nationality, age, marital status and profession.

ENRIQUETA: My name is Enrique Faber, native of Lausanne, Switzerland. I am thirty-two years of age; married in the city of Baracoa to Juana de León. I am a doctor by profession and hold the corresponding degree.

JUDGE: How long ago did you marry in Baracoa?

ENRIQUETA: Almost four years ago.

JUDGE: How long has it been since you absented yourself from Baracoa, what was the reason for this absence, and where have you resided subsequently?

ENRIQUETA: I left Baracoa three-and-a-half years ago. I stayed in Santiago de Cuba for a few days, awaiting the boat that makes the crossing to and from Havana. I wanted to speak personally with the regents of the Protomedicato. I wanted them to transfer me to a different place as officer of that institution. After being in Havana for three months, I was told that the only available village was San Anselmo de los Tiguabos, and I set off for my new destination. I arrived at the beginning of May, 1820, which I remember because of the celebrations commemorating the restoration of the constitutional regime. I practiced medicine in Tiguabos until I was arrested and sent to the jail in this city.

JUDGE: I should inform you that, before your arrest, this court heard the testimony of witnesses about the accusations that appear in Juana de León’s statement, the content of which we have just heard. This said, I ask you: are you acquainted with a mulatto named Hipólito Wilson, and do you know if he has a house in the village of Tiguabos?

ENRIQUETA: Yes, sir, I know him from Baracoa, where he was a patient of mine. Lacking resources with which to pay me, he offered to teach me a bit of the English language. After a few months, he went to live in Tiguabos.

JUDGE: Do you know an individual named José Ramos?

ENRIQUETA: No.

JUDGE: Explain then a conversation that took place in the month of November, 1822, in the house of the aforementioned Ramos. He swears that you participated in said conversation in which Ramos wagered an ounce of gold that a certain thing he claimed insistently was indeed true.

ENRIQUETA: I had not remembered who Ramos was, but now, with respect to the incident to which Your Honor refers, I understand who he must be. What happened was that Hipólito Wilson told me that there was a young man who was betting all manner of things that I did not pertain to the masculine sex, and I told him that I would go to see him with my own money to wager the opposite. Indeed, accompanied by Hipólito Wilson, I went to his house, but Ramos did not want to affirm his statement, and this denial occurred in Wilson’s presence.

JUDGE: And did you, as the offended party, make any sort of complaint to the Lord Mayor of the town?

ENRIQUETA: No, sir, I did not lodge a complaint, although I did make amicable mention of the incident to him.

JUDGE: Do you know a Biscayan gentleman named Don Juan Antonio Gausardía?

ENRIQUETA: Yes.

JUDGE: What has been the nature of your relationship with the aforementioned individual?

ENRIQUETA: As this individual is the owner of a tavern, I used to go there to eat, paying him the corresponding price. This is the only interaction I had with him.

JUDGE: Were you ever in his company in the town of Caney?

ENRIQUETA: One day during festival, when I went to visit that town, I came across Mister Gausardía and several other people in the road on the way there. We went to Caney as a group and ate together in a tavern.

JUDGE: Was Ramos among the persons in attendance that day in the aforementioned tavern in Caney?

ENRIQUETA: He was there out of pure coincidence.

JUDGE: What happened after the meal?

ENRIQUETA: We set out on the return journey to Tiguabos. Ramos, having joined with the group, repeated that he’d wager a gold coin that I was a woman.

JUDGE: Did you hear Ramos say these words?

ENRIQUETA: No. I was ahead of him, with Gausardía. Ramos was behind me with some other people, but I learned of his wager afterwards.

JUDGE: This proceeding is adjourned, to be continued should it be deemed necessary. I must inform you that you are to be formally held prisoner while your conduct is examined and that, in accordance with article 300 of the Constitution, you are informed that the reason for your incarceration is the lawsuit brought against you by your wife, Doña Juana de León, who accuses you of having seduced and deceived her, leading her through the marriage sacrament despite your being a woman just as she is, and being unable to fulfill the duties of the conjugal state, circumstances that are to be proven before me by means of a physical exam carried out by two physicians, the results of which are to be verified by this court’s scribe.

ENRIQUETA: It will be a simple matter for me to defend myself and to prove my innocence. I would request that Your Honor attend to the matter of designating the physicians who are to examine my body as soon as possible so that this lamentable episode in which I find myself involved might be concluded once and for all.

I thought that this moment of audacity would convince the judge that I wasn’t a woman. But I was wrong. The following morning, the court scribe and two doctors entered my cell. My pleas and bribes were all in vain. Even when I ended up confessing myself a woman, they forced me to undress. My humiliation was absolute. They took everything of value I possessed, including my watch and the gold chain that held Aunt Margot’s portrait; they stripped me of my clothing and boots; they left me a tattered dress, a shawl that smelled of rancid sweat, and a crude pair of shoes.

For over ten years my secret had never been made public. Neither Fauriel nor Maryse, Uncle Charles nor Madame Cavent, Christopher nor Robledo, Pierre nor Françoise had revealed it. But one can only take the bucket to the well so many times before it breaks. Not only had Juanita betrayed and made a fool of me; because of her I was now in jail, and all of the effort and sacrifices I’d made to hide my identity had been demolished in a single blow. Tomorrow or the day after, or whenever it was that the judge saw fit, I’d be summoned so that I might, under oath, confess to, or defend myself against the charges levied against me. Furious at first, little by little I fell into a lethargic dejection that made me forget about hunger and thirst. Lying on the filthy cot in my cell, I spent hours staring at the ceiling and, when night fell and the ceiling disappeared into the darkness, I stared into the nothingness, unable to think of anything beyond my misfortune. When daylight came in through the small window that looked out over the prison yard, I noticed a small, rolled-up piece of paper tied to the iron bars. I looked at it for a long time without much curiosity. When I realized that I was still staring it, I stood up, pushed the cot over to the window, climbed up on it and removed the paper. I read it then and there: it was a message from Wilson warning me that, as a means of public ridicule, I was to be paraded on a donkey down the city’s main street, barefoot and wearing a penitent’s nightdress; I thought of the story of Lady Godiva and smiled. I would not give my accusers or judges, much less the gawking public, that pleasure. On the floor was an earthenware jug filled with water. I smashed it against the wall and looked for the sharpest piece. It wouldn’t be as effective as a knife, but with a little persistence, I could find a vein. I’d let blood from my arm, just like the thousands of lettings I’d done in my life, except this time, I wouldn’t stop the bleeding. Determined, I picked up the shard, turned it sharp edge down, and brought it near my skin, but when I was about to make the incision, my hand began to tremble. I tried to cut myself four or five times, to no avail; my fingers had lost all their strength and I could scarcely use them. Suddenly, the door to my cell opened: “Let’s go, marimacho, you’re to return to the court so you can make your confession,” said one of the jailors.

Taken before the same judge, a fellow named Rodríguez, who tried to hide his near baldness with a ridiculous hairdo, I swore to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth. After answering a few questions aimed at verifying further details of my life, the interrogation took a different turn.

JUDGE: Do you remember the statement you issued in this same room on the seventh day of this month and, if not, do you wish for it to be read aloud?

ENRIQUETA: It’s of no use.

JUDGE: You have declared that, on the way back to Tiguabos, Ramos wagered money that you were a woman, a bet you became aware of later.

ENRIQUETA: Correct. While we were watering the horses in the river that runs alongside the road, an individual, whose name I do not know, approached me and touched my chest.

JUDGE: Continue.

ENRIQUETA: This individual said, in insultingly vulgar terms, that he couldn’t be sure if I were a man or woman and, that being the case, he would not pay Ramos the ounce of gold he had wagered. Then Ramos suggested that they undress me, to which Mister Gausardía and others were opposed.

JUDGE: Is it true that you paid Hipólito Wilson to kill Ramos?

ENRIQUETA: It is not true. I merely told him that he should try to convince Ramos that I wasn’t a woman.

JUDGE: When the subject in question was arrested for inebriation and disturbance of the peace in Mister Gausardía’s tavern, he stated that you gave him one hundred and fifty pesos.

ENRIQUETA: It was less, I don’t remember how much. He is very poor, and he’s an acquaintance of mine.

JUDGE: Relate the conversation you had with Tomás Olivares, the mayor of Tiguabos, about your sex.

ENRIQUETA: Ramos would not stop saying that I was a woman and, knowing that there were others who would take him at his word, I went to see Don Tomás one evening. I managed to persuade him that I was a man.

JUDGE: You deceived him. Admit it. You deceived a civil authority.

ENRIQUETA: I was afraid of being discovered.

JUDGE: You also deceived the parish priest in Baracoa, who married you to Juana de León thinking you were a man.

ENRIQUETA: It’s true that I committed a sacrilege and that I’m guilty in the eyes of the church, but I do not believe that I am guilty in the eyes of the law. In France, a woman is not jailed because she has dressed as a man. I have always lived in accordance with the law and have attempted to do good for others.

JUDGE: Explain what methods you employed to deceive Doña Juana de León and to obtain her consent for marriage.

ENRIQUETA: Juana de León married me knowing that I was a woman. I never deceived her.

JUDGE: The defendant will understand that it is her word against the plaintiff’s.

ENRIQUETA: I’m telling the truth. I’m not accustomed to lying.

JUDGE: You have lied, not once, but many times. In addition to lying in your own country, as you yourself have confessed, you came to this loyal Island of Cuba under a false passport, deceived the eminent magistrates of the Protomedicato by pretending to be a man, and signed the marriage act with Doña Juana de León as Enrique Faber, making a mockery of one of the most sacred sacraments of the Holy Mother Church. I advise you to retract your words. You have sworn to tell the truth and perjury is a crime.

ENRIQUETA: I swear under oath that Juana de León knew that I was a woman before the wedding took place.

JUDGE: Are you insinuating that the plaintiff is a pervert?

ENRIQUETA: No. I’m only insinuating that she’s a liar.

JUDGE: Supposing this were the case, which no one would believe since you’ve given ample proof of your lack of candor and honesty, what motives would she have had to marry sacrilegiously?

ENRIQUETA: When I met Juana de León she was living in the most dire poverty and was suffering from tuberculosis. Marriage to me offered her a better life— good food to eat, rest, and, above all, money to spend.

JUDGE: State your motives for seducing her and convincing her to marry you.

ENRIQUETA: I needed someone to keep me company and to love me. Although, I repeat, there was never any seduction or deception on my part.

JUDGE: What do you have to say about the immoral propositions that you made to the plaintiff?

ENRIQUETA: I do not know to what Your Honor refers.

JUDGE: That you suggested to her that she commit adultery.

ENRIQUETA: I did not suggest it to her. I told her that she could continue her relationship with the lover she already had, Mister Faustino Chicoy, or with any other. Allow me to describe what happened: one afternoon I surprised my wife with this individual. This caused a quarrel between us, after which I decided to move away from Baracoa. She responded to my decision by threatening that, were I to do so, she was prepared to make my true sex public. As this would have prevented me from continuing to practice as a doctor, I proposed that we remain formally married, but that she would be free to have as many lovers as she might want and that I would give her the seven thousand reales I kept in my chest of drawers.

JUDGE: Do you have any written document that would prove the existence of such a scandalous contract?

ENRIQUETA: No, it was a verbal agreement. Nevertheless, I can prove its existence. Juana de León has waited almost four years to file her complaint. Why did she delay for so long? Because, during that time, she demanded five thousand reales on three separate occasions, and she would have gone on doing so, had the suspicion that I was a woman not arisen in Tiguabos. Were I to be discovered, she’d be exposed as having consented. So, she decided to nip the situation in the bud; that is, to denounce me before her silence could compromise her.

JUDGE: If what you say is true, surely you’ll have the receipts, signed by Doña Juana, that correspond to these supposed payments; or, in the event of their absence, letters from the aforementioned person asking you for these sums.

ENRIQUETA: There were no such receipts or letters. On every occasion, I gave the money to her relative and lover, Faustino Chicoy, who came to Tiguabos to get it.

JUDGE: And you handed over these large sums of money to a third party without assuring that they would end up in Doña Juana’s hands?

ENRIQUETA: Chicoy showed me letters that Juana de León had written to me, in which she always threatened to turn me in.

JUDGE: Do you have any of these letters?

ENRIQUETA: No. Chicoy kept them, just as was stipulated in the letters.

JUDGE: Do you consider yourself a victim of Juana de León?

ENRIQUETA: I’ve never thought of it like that. Although at the beginning of our relationship I proceeded in good faith, and she did not, in the end, we used one another mutually for our own purposes.

JUDGE: State Doña Juana de León’s age when she married you.

ENRIQUETA: Fifteen.

JUDGE: Does it not seem strange to you that a fifteen-year-old, almost a girl, could have deceived you, a person more than twice her age and who has been a married woman, a widow, a medical student in Paris, a veteran of two wars and an impostor?

ENRIQUETA: I ask myself the same question.

JUDGE: I am tiring of your impudence, for which I must rebuke you. In any event, we will move on to the defense. Do you wish to defend yourself or would you prefer a public attorney to do so?

ENRIQUETA: I do not need anyone. In my defense, I say only that Juana de León’s accusations are false and that I have never harmed anyone.

JUDGE: These proceeding are adjourned, under condition that they be reconvened at any time deemed suitable.

My sentence came down a week later. It was a different judge who read it, a man with enormous side whiskers and a loud voice. I copy the court’s verdict as recorded in the brittle pages of Enriqueta Faber: “In the city of Santiago de Cuba, on this 19th day of June, 1823, Señor Don Eduardo María Ferrer, retired Lieutenant Colonel, constitutional Mayor, and Substitute Judge under this Jurisdiction, declared: that in view of the criminal proceeding brought against Doña Enriqueta Faber, native of Lausanne, Switzerland, initiated at the request of Doña Juana de León, native to and resident of the city of Baracoa, for the horrible crimes of having gone about disguised in men’s clothing from the time of her arrival on this Island, being truly and completely a woman; of having contracted marriage, as described by León in a written statement visible on page 6, accompanied by the certificate issued by the priest Don Felipe Salamé certifying the marriage ceremony; in view of declarations 14 through 16 of the indictment, acknowledging the medical exam performed by physicians licensed in medicine and surgery, Doctors Don Bartolomé Segura and Don José Fernández, and by Attorney José de la Caridad Ibarra, in which it is sworn that Doña Enriqueta is a woman, being that under no circumstances could she be mistaken for the other sex; the statements of confession, in which she describes her detestable crimes, and recounts the story of her life from the age of sixteen, when she became the widow of a Hussar officer with the French army, named Don Juan Bautista Roberto Renaud, until she began to use the disguise; the accusation formulated by the Public Prosecutor, on page 52; the statement of evidence on the verso of page 55; the ratifications of the witnesses at the summary proceeding; the allegations put forth by the Minister of Justice in favor of the people’s case; with all else having been taken into account, the Minister has proven the established accusation, despite Doña Enriqueta’s having refuted it in her own defense. And in consequence, in consideration of the derisive and vile mockery that she has dared to inflict on Divinity in contracting matrimony with a person of her same sex, which horrifying and godless act sins against our august religion and the reverence due such a holy sacrament, without the least fear of incurring the gravest of sanctions, of both canonical and civil order, which condemn and punish such sinister dealings; in consequence as well of the insult and scandal that she has brought on the Republic, no less by means of said delinquencies than through her male disguise, condemned by all the laws of the universe, through the falsification of which she was able to obtain a license from the Protomedicato and the title of Officer in the city of Baracoa, with insult to and mockery of its respectable Tribunal, of his Excellence Señor Captain General of the Island, and of all other authorities and corporations constituted within it; the aforementioned Doña Enriqueta Faber is sentenced to imprisonment in the house of corrections established in the city of Havana, for ten years, under the special vigilance of the competent authorities, with the stipulation that, her sentence completed, she shall remain incarcerated until such a time as she may be remitted to any foreign land, with the absolute prohibition to return, under any pretext whatsoever, to any Spanish dominions, and is hereby warned that, should she be discovered in said dominions, her sentence shall be doubled along with any further penalties for which there be cause. This sentence shall be made public by means of the Government press, so that its publication shall produce the consequent effects on the businesses and people native to this Island. She is further ordered to pay all costs associated with these proceeding, reserving to Juana de León all rights against Doña Faber and her assets, so that she may deduct from them where and when she deems convenient.”

JUDGE: Does the condemned have anything to say?

ENRIQUETA: I request that Your Honor send the pubic defender to my cell. I need him to instruct me with regard to requesting an appeal.

Recovered from the paralyzing depression into which I’d fallen since being manhandled by the doctors, I was able to reflect upon my situation. What had I lost? What did I still have? What did I stand to gain? My economic situation was desperate. La Muraille’s children had secured the estate at Foix as well as the surrounding properties that Curchet had acquired; after I’d paid off my legal expenses, Juanita would strip me of the rest of my savings and sell my furniture, including my Woman; confined to prison for ten years, I wouldn’t even be able to fulfill the mortgage requirements on the house in Paris. My only possession was my forest, which, while of incomparable value to me, in terms of my pocketbook, meant very little. I had also lost the possibility of earning a living in Cuba and any Spanish-held land, although, all things considered, this didn’t much matter: with Maryse dead, there was nothing tying me to that island, stricken by sugar and slavery. Eventually, I’d be expelled, but that would be more reward than punishment. Where I’d be sent couldn’t have mattered less to me. From wherever it was I’d arrange to return to France, and at least there I’d have the little stone cottage to live in. And, suddenly, I remembered my jewels. Of course, Aunt Margot’s jewels, thousands and thousands of francs. I would not die of hunger. And that was if I decided to live as a woman, otherwise—certainly the most likely scenario—I’d go back to being Henri Faber, a military surgeon retired for disability, and I’d open a practice in Paris or in Burgundy or Marseilles or any other city that wasn’t in the Languedoc. Because, for my lawyers, Lebrun and Ducharme, for my old tenant D’Alencourt and the people of Foix and Toulouse who knew me, I would go on being Madame Henriette Renaud, née Faber-Cavent, a tireless traveler with libidinous tendencies—with no other proof than my word, no one had believed that Dunsi was the product of a legitimate marriage—whom they’d catch a glimpse of now and again, when nostalgia called her back to the forest on the banks of the Ariège. On top of all that I had my health and a knowledge of the world, not to mention that I still had my third marriage ahead of me. Of course, I shouldn’t get my hopes up about my appeal. If it were accepted by the magistrates of the Provincial Court of Puerto Príncipe, it might be only in order to ratify my sentence. And so I passed the time in my cell, waiting for the ship that would take me to Havana as prisoner, trying to see my lamentable situation with some optimism, and telling myself that this entire Cuban adventure would only contribute to my life experience.

After ten days at sea with good weather, I saw once again the Castillo del Morro, the church towers, and the cheerful colors of the houses of Havana. My anxiety grew in tandem with our approach to the bay. I asked myself if there would be people waiting to hurl trash and insults at me, as had happened when I’d left Santiago. My question was answered immediately: more than a hundred wretched souls crowded on the dock. The details of my trial having been published by the official press, I was now the scapegoat who allowed every beggar and slave, cripple and cuckold, anyone who’d ever felt aggrieved, to enjoy a few moments of triumph at my expense. By the time I arrived at the women’s prison, my clothes were stained with rotten eggs and tomatoes, and a well-aimed cabbage had left a lump on my right cheek. Not even in prison did I cease to suffer insults, but I stand to gain nothing by recounting them. I prefer to speak of Romay’s lovely gesture: despite becoming the target for small-minded gossip, he came to visit me on two occasions. He treated me the same as always, and I remain grateful for his kindness in visiting me and for the fruit and candies that he brought me. And suddenly, to both my captors’ and my surprise, a dispatch form the Provincial Court arrived, ordering my transfer “with all possible haste,” to the city of Puerto Príncipe. The date set for my appeals trial was September 30th.

Since I felt, at the time, like an utter outlander, something like a cassoulet in a Cuban kitchen, I was pleased to learn that my defense attorney was not a native son of Puerto Príncipe, but rather a foreigner as well—Peruvian, in his case. I was even happier to learn that he was a well-known scholar, the author of several works of jurisprudence, whose interest in my case had led him to renounce his post as judge in the Royal Court of Puerto Príncipe in order to be able to defend me before his colleagues. His name was Manuel de Vidaurre.

Among the anonymous pages of Enriqueta Faber, I found the following description of Vidaurre: “He was pleasing in appearance. Thin, tall, and crowned in prematurely gray hair, he had very delicate and white skin, ennobled by the sweetest and most benevolent of gazes. His aquiline nose lent an air of distinction to his entire face, and his blue eyes were attractively pleasant.” Not one bit of this is true. He was short and chubby, of fiery temperament and penetrating eyes. He did not attempt to hide his baldness. In any event, he came to visit me in jail as soon as he’d received word of my arrival and, while I answered his questions, he diligently filled several pages of his notebook.

Of the appeals trial, I’ll limit myself to reproducing only Vidaurre’s closing arguments. I do so because, in their time, they were as singular as the famous voice crying out in the desert; to make them known today is my small tribute to his ideas.

“Crime is produced by pleasure, and so it is understood that punishment must be based on pain. Nevertheless, to lead men and women to the gallows, to burn them at the stake, to multiply and refine means of torture, are remedies as facile as they are ineffective in preventing crime. To guide the spirit, to govern the heart, to channel passions toward good, to take advantage of sensitivity, to limit the other’s desire for freedom, is the legislator’s very own task. A crime is a deed that takes pleasure in the evil that causes it. Legislative bodies should see to it that the citizen enjoys this same deed, or another equal or similar, without causing harm. If this is not possible, they should impede the power to cause it. They should endeavor to distract the desire for that deed, which is based on evil. To this end, the first resort shall be the illustration of an understanding of philosophy and the direction of will by means of a moral code without prejudices. Enriqueta Faber is not a criminal. Society, from the moment it denied women civil and political rights, turning them into furniture, dolls for men’s pleasure, is guiltier than she is. My client was correct to dress as a man, not only because the law does not forbid it, but also because, appearing as a man, she was able to study, work, and have the freedom of movement to carry out good deeds. What criminal is this, who follows her husband through the cannon fire of the great battles, who heals the wounded, who treats the poor and helpless free of charge, and who married only in order to bring serenity to an unfortunate, ill orphan? We men monopolize everything for ourselves. Who sells ribbons and pins in the shops? Men do. Who sews vests, pants, and shirts? Men do. Who cooks? The great chefs are men, as are the majority of mediocre ones. The day will come, if we continue in this way, when our sons, instead of taking up the plow to work the earth or the ax to fell the forests, will devote themselves to washing and ironing clothes and even cutting and adorning women’s dresses. Here is the problem: after her husband’s death, Enriqueta Faber felt the call of a vocation, that of becoming a doctor so as to confront death and to help her fellow human beings. Could the young widow, dressed as a woman, study medicine? No. Could any woman, dressed as a woman, study to be a lawyer or an engineer? No. Could she be a soldier? No. Would it be permissible for her to aspire to the priesthood? Of course not. Honorable gentlemen, because our laws, customs, and masculine egos have willed it to be so, women today are no different than minors. The social contract does not exist for them. As long as women do not take part in politics and in the making of laws, and do so in equal numbers to men, we will live in an unjust world. Let them marry, you’ll say. But why marry if marriage does not protect them either, but rather reduces them to machines for producing children within the four walls of their homes? We must allow the more attractive half of the human species to aspire, at the very least, to the rights afforded to laborers. Open workshops and factories to women. Allow them to work so that they do not die like flowers in a vase, so that they might not be mired in the caverns of vice. It is that vicious judge from Santiago de Cuba who should be here on the stand instead of Enriqueta, he who insisted on witnessing my client’s naked body by means of those doctors’ cruel examination; a pointless and abusive examination, from the moment the defendant decided to confess her sex. Neither, honorable judges, may it be sustained, outside of pure prejudice, that Enriqueta has committed a sacrilege. It was never her intention to offend Divinity, because, to the contrary, through her marriage she was seeking tranquility of spirit and the sanctity of the hearth, requesting the blessings of the Catholic priests. The day will come when marriage will be for everyone. As for the public order, Enriqueta has not disturbed it, nor has she attempted to rebel against the political and civic institutions of the State; she has neither killed, nor wounded, nor stolen from anybody. We are the criminals, those of us who oppress women; the reprobates are the Governments that do not tolerate women sitting alongside you in order to pass judgment on men. My client does not need the world’s sympathy, because, upon heroically accepting the arbitrary verdict of your justice, or ours, if you prefer, she has acceded to the status of martyr, a status worthy of the greatest respect and admiration. She has already given all the money and assets she had to Doña Juana de León, her so-called spouse. She has turned a nearly incurable tubercular girl into a robust and evidently healthy woman. She has turned a beggar into a well-off lady who will soon marry again. Your name, Enriqueta Faber, will be recorded in the history of Cuba and in the annals of medicine; you shall be recognized as the first woman surgeon to graduate from a University, as the first female military surgeon to serve on the battlefield, the first woman to practice her profession as a physician in Europe and America. Your glory and valor are assured for posterity. As for everyone else, if they condemn you now, all the worse for them; their names will be the target of mockery, for their incompetence as much as their cowardice. As for me, after having given it a great deal of thought, and having examined your conscience through the crucible of my own honorable conscience, I absolve you, Enriqueta, completely and without reservation.”

Four days later, I was taken to the courtroom to hear the verdict: “In light of that presented by the Honorable Judge, Enriqueta Faber is hereby remanded to service at the Hospital de Paula, in the city of Havana, for four years, at the completion of which, she shall leave the Island under condition of perpetual banishment from all Spanish territories. She shall be stripped of her physician’s title and residence card, both of which she obtained under the name Enrique Faber, and she shall be responsible for the procedural fees associated with each. His most Excellent Superior Political Commander-in-Chief, the Protomedicato, and the most senior Lord Judge shall be duly notified. Signed: Reboredo, Álvarez, Portilla, Gómez, Frías, Bernal, and Agramonte y Recio.”