How do archival materials come out of the closet—literally or figuratively?

Alice B. Toklas (L) and Gertrude Stein seated on patio at Berchtesgaden

Yale’s Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library began to acquire Modernist writer Gertrude Stein’s papers in 1937. Ten years later, after Stein’s death, her wife, Alice B. Toklas, sent the library the rest of Stein’s papers. Enclosed in this shipment were more than three hundred love notes. When Toklas learned of her unintended donation, she first insisted the notes be destroyed, then allowed the library to keep them under the stipulation that they be kept in a locked curator’s cabinet, publicly unavailable. In 1981, the Beinecke opened the notes to researchers; in 1995, the notes were finally catalogued as an official part of the Stein-Toklas collection. In 1999, lesbian scholar Kay Turner brought the love notes and their story further into the public eye, editing a selected anthology of the letters, Baby Precious Always Shines, displayed below.

Baby Precious Always Shines (1999)

The story of the Stein-Toklas love notes raises many questions about privacy in archives. In reading them, we go against Toklas’s express wishes, but we also gain unparalleled insight into the domestic lives of the couple. Is it possible to uncover queer intimacy in history while respecting queer ancestors’ wishes for privacy? What material historical absences arise out of this desire for privacy: how many other love notes were destroyed? Despite the ethical dilemma, in reading the notes, one can’t help but to agree with Toklas’s assertion that “notes are a very beautiful form of literature.”

Letter from Stein to Toklas, “Ir / Re / Sis / Ti / Belle” (undated)

Letter from Stein to Toklas, “Baby love, call your dove”... (undated)

Now accessible to all researchers, the Stein–Toklas love notes give us a look into the day-to-day intimate lives of the couple. Reading the notes feels like peering over Stein’s and Toklas’s shoulders. We see Toklas subvert cisheterosexual gender roles, addressing Stein as “mr. cuddlewuddle” and her “husband.”

Letter from Stein to Toklas, “Dear Mr. Cuddlewuddle” (ca. 1914-1940)

Stein’s affection shines through the page: she signed most of her notes “Y.D,” short for “your darling,” and frequently adorned notes with a doodle of two “cuddlewuddles,” snuggled closely together, like in the upper right corner of the envelope below.

Letter from Stein to Toklas, with doodle of two “cuddlewuddles” (ca. 1914-1940)