Kate Percival - The Life and Amours of the Beautiful, Gay and Dashing Kate Percival, The Belle of the Delaware (Kate Percival) (Literary Thoughts Edition)

Transscribed and Published by Jacson Keating (editor)

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I am about to do a bold thing. I am about to give to the world the particulars of a life fraught with incident and adventure. I am about to lift the veil from the most voluptuous scenes. I shall disguise nothing, conceal nothing, but shall relate everything that has happened to me just as it occurred. I am what is called a woman of pleasure, and have drained its cup to the very dregs. I have the most extraordinary scenes to depict, but although I shall place everything before the reader in the most explicit language, I shall be careful not to wound his or her sense of decency by the use of coarse words, feeling satisfied there is more charm in a story decently told than in the bold unblushing use of term which ought never to sully a woman's lips.

I was born in a small village in the state of Pennsylvania, situated on the banks of the Delaware, and about thirty miles from Philadelphia. My father's house was most romantically situated within a few yards of the river. It was supported as it were, at the back by a high hill, which, in summer was covered with green trees and bushes. On each side of the dwelling was a wood so dense and thick that a stranger un-acquainted with the paths through it could not enter. In front of the house, the river on sunshiny days gleamed and glistened in the rays of the sun, and the white sails passing and repassing formed quite a picturesque scene. At night, however, especially in the winter time, the scene was different. Then the wind would howl and moan through the leafless trees and the river would beat against the rocks in a most mournful cadence. To this day I can remember the effect it had on my youthful mind, and whenever I hear the wind whistling at night, it always recalls, to my memory my birth place.

My father was a stern, austere man, usually very silent and reserved. I only remembered seeing him excited once or twice. My mother had died in my infancy—(I was but fifteen months at the time) and my father's sister became his housekeeper. I had but one brother a year older than myself. How well I remember him, a fine noble-hearted boy full of love and affection. We were neglected by our father and aunt, and left to get through our childhood's days as best we could. We would wander together hand in hand by the river side or in the woods, and often cry ourselves to sleep in each other's arms at our father's want of affection for us. We enjoyed none of the gayeties, none of the sports of youth. The chill of our home appeared to follow us wherever we went, and no matter how brightly the sun shone, it could not dissipate the chill around our hearts. I never remember seeing my father even smile. A continual gloom hung over him, and he usually kept himself locked in his room except at meal times.

This life continued until I was ten years of age, when one day my father informed me that the next day I was to go to Philadelphia to a boarding school. At first I was glad to hear it, for any change from the dull monotony of that solitary house must be an agreeable one to me. I ran to the garden to tell my brother; but the moment I mentioned it, Harry threw himself sobbing in my arms.

"Will you leave me, Kate!" he exclaimed, "What will I do when you are gone, I shall be so lonely—so very lonely without you?"

"But Harry, darling," I returned, "I shall be back again in a few months, and then I shall have so much to tell you, and we shall have such nice walks together."

I succeeded in calming him, especially as our father informed him before the day was over that he too was to go to a boarding school in the city of Baltimore. That evening we took our last ramble together before we left home. It was the month of June, and all nature was decked in her gayest apparel. It was a beautiful moon-light night, and the hair [sic] was fragrant with the odor of June roses, of which there were a large number in the garden. We wandered by the side of the river and watched the moon rays playing on the surface of the water, while a gentle breeze murmured softly through the pine trees. On that evening we settled our future life. It was arranged between us that when Harry grew up to be a man I should go and keep his house. We dwelt a long time on the pleasures of such life. At last it was time for us to return to the house, we embraced each other tenderly and separated.

The next morning I left very early, and in a few hours reached my destination and was enrolled among the pupils of B…. Seminary, I shall not dwell long on my school days, although I might devote much of space to them. I was not a popular girl in the school—I was too cold, too reserved, and some of the girls said too proud. I took no pleasure in girlish sports, but my chief amusement was reading. I would retire to a corner of the school room and while the other girls were at play—I would be plunged in the mysteries of Mrs. Radcliffs novels, or some other work of the same character. Frequently the Principal insisted on my shutting up my book and going out to play, but I would creep back when she had left the schoolroom, and resume my favorite occupation. I remained at school seven years, and during that time I never once visited home, for my father made a special agreement that I was to spend my vacation at school.

It is strange that, considering the prominent part I had played in the Court of Venus, that up to the age of seventeen, not a single thought concerning the relation of the sexes ever entered my head. I had up to that age never experienced the slightest longing or desire and looked on all men with the utmost indifference. And yet I knew that I was called beautiful and was the envy of all my school fellows.

I have not yet given a description of myself to the reader and it is nothing but right that I should do so. At the age of seventeen my charms were well developed, and although they had not attained the ripe fullness which a few years later was the admiration and delight of all my adorers, still I possessed all the insignia of womanhood. In stature I was above the medium height, my hair was a dark auburn and hung in massive bands on a white neck. My eyes were a deep blue and possessed a languishing voluptuous expression; they were fringed with long silky eyelashes and arched with brows so finely pencilled that I have often been accused of using art to give them their graceful appearance. My features were classically regular, my skin of dazzling whiteness, my shoulders were gracefully rounded and my bust faultless in its contours. My more secret charms I shall describe at some future time when I shall have to expose them to the reader's gaze.