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22 - Story of My Life by Helen Keller · Story of My Life

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Speaker 1: Chapter twenty two of the Story of My Life. This
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Speaker 1: LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Story of
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Speaker 1: My Life by Helen Keller, Chapter twenty two. I trust
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Speaker 1: that my readers have not concluded from the preceding chapter
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Speaker 1: on books that reading is my only pleasure. My pleasures
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Speaker 1: and amusements are many and varied. More than once in
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Speaker 1: the course of my story I have referred to my
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Speaker 1: love of the country and out of door sports. When
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Speaker 1: I was quite a little girl, I learned to row
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Speaker 1: and swim, And during the summer, when I am at Rantham, Massachusetts,
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Speaker 1: I almost live in my boat. Nothing gives me greater
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Speaker 1: pleasure than to take my friends out rowing when they
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Speaker 1: come to visit me. Of course, I cannot guide the
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Speaker 1: boat very well. Some One usually sits in the stern
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Speaker 1: and manages the rudder while I row. Sometimes, however, I
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Speaker 1: go rowing with out the rudder. It is fun to
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Speaker 1: try to steer by the scent of water, grasses and lilies,
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Speaker 1: and of bushes that grow on the shore. I use
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Speaker 1: oars with leather bands which keep them in position in
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Speaker 1: the oar locks, and I know by the resistance of
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Speaker 1: the water when the oars are evenly poised. In the
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Speaker 1: same manner, I can also tell when I am pulling
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Speaker 1: against the current. I like to contend with wind and wave.
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Speaker 1: What is more exhilarating than to make your staunch little
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Speaker 1: boat obedient to your will and muscle go skimming lightly
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Speaker 1: over glistening, tilting waves, and to feel the steady, imperious
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Speaker 1: surge of the water. I also enjoy canoeing, and I
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Speaker 1: suppose you will smile when I say that I especially
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Speaker 1: like it on moonlight nights. I cannot it is true,
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Speaker 1: see the moon climb up the sky behind the pines
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Speaker 1: and steal softly across the heavens, making a shining path
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Speaker 1: for us follow. But I know she is there, And
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Speaker 1: as I lie back among the pillows and put my
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Speaker 1: hand in the water, I fancy that I feel the
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Speaker 1: shimmer of her garments as she passes. Sometimes a daring
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Speaker 1: little fish slips between my fingers, and often a pond
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Speaker 1: lily presses shyly against my hand. Frequently, as we emerge
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Speaker 1: from the shelter of a cove or inlet, I am
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Speaker 1: suddenly conscious of the spaciousness of the air about me.
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Speaker 1: A luminous warmth seems to enfold me whether it comes
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Speaker 1: from the trees which have been heated by the sun,
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Speaker 1: or from the water, I can never discover. I have
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Speaker 1: had the same strange sensation even in the heart of
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Speaker 1: the city. I have felt it on cold, stormy days,
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Speaker 1: and at night it is like the kiss of warm
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Speaker 1: lips on my face. My favorite amusement is sailing. In
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Speaker 1: the summer of nineteen o one, I visited Nova Scotia
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Speaker 1: and had opportunities such as I had not enjoyed before
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Speaker 1: to make the acquaintance of the ocean. After spending a
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Speaker 1: few days in Evangeline's country, about which Longfellow's beautiful poem
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Speaker 1: has woven a spell of enchantment, Miss Sullivan and I
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Speaker 1: went to Halifax, where we remained the greater part of
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Speaker 1: the summer. The harbor was our joy, our paradise. What
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Speaker 1: glorious sails we had to Bedford Basin, to mac Nabb's Island,
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Speaker 1: to York Redoubt, and to the Northwest arm And at night,
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Speaker 1: what soothing, wondrous hours we spent in the shadow of
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Speaker 1: the great silent men of war. Oh, it was all
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Speaker 1: so interesting, so beautiful. The memory of it is a
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Speaker 1: joy forever. One day we had the thrilling experience. There
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Speaker 1: was a regatta in the Northwest Arm in which the
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Speaker 1: boats from the different warships were engaged. We went in
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Speaker 1: a sail boat along with many others to watch the races.
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Speaker 1: Hundreds of little sailboats swung to and fro close by,
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Speaker 1: and the sea was calm. When the races were over
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Speaker 1: and we turned our faces homeward, one of the party
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Speaker 1: noticed a black cloud drifting in from the sea, which
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Speaker 1: grew and spread and thickened until it covered the whole sky.
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Speaker 1: The wind rose, and the waves chopped angrily at unseen barriers.
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Speaker 1: Our little boat confronted the gale fearlessly, with sails spread
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Speaker 1: and ropes taught. She seemed to sit upon the wind.
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Speaker 1: Now she swirled in the billows. Now she sprang upward
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Speaker 1: on a gigantic wave, only to be driven down with
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Speaker 1: angry howl and hiss. Down came the mainsail, tacking and jibbing.
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Speaker 1: We wrestled with opposing winds that drove us from side
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Speaker 1: to side with impetuous fury. Our hearts beat fast, and
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Speaker 1: our hands trembled with excitement, not fear, for we had
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Speaker 1: the hearts of vikings, and we knew that our skipper
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Speaker 1: was of the situation. He had steered through many a
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Speaker 1: storm with firm hand and sea wise eye. As they
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Speaker 1: passed us, the large craft and the gunboats in the
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Speaker 1: harbor saluted, and the seamen shouted applauds for the master
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Speaker 1: of the only little sail boat that ventured out into
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Speaker 1: the storm. At last, cold, hungry and weary, we reached
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Speaker 1: our pier. Last summer I spent in one of the
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Speaker 1: loveliest nooks of one of the most charming villages in
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Speaker 1: New England. Wrentham, Massachusetts, is associated with nearly all of
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Speaker 1: my joys and sorrows. For many years, Red Farm, the
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Speaker 1: home of mister J. E. Chamberlain and his family, was
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Speaker 1: my home. I remember with deepest gratitude the kindness of
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Speaker 1: these dear friends, and the happy days I spent with them.
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Speaker 1: The sweet companionship of their children meant much to me.
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Speaker 1: I joined in all their sports and rambled through the
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Speaker 1: woods and frolics in the water. The prattle of the
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Speaker 1: little ones and their pleasure in the stories I told
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Speaker 1: them of Elf and Gnome, of Hero and wily Bear
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Speaker 1: are pleasant things to remember. Mister Chamberlain initiated me into
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Speaker 1: the mysteries of tree and wild flower, until with the
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Speaker 1: little ear of love I heard the flow of sap
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Speaker 1: in the oak, and saw the sun glint from leaf
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Speaker 1: to leave. Thus it is that even as the roots
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Speaker 1: shut in the darksome earth, share in the tree top's joyants,
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Speaker 1: and conceive of sunshine and wide air and winged things
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Speaker 1: by sympathy of nature, so do I gave evidence of
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Speaker 1: things unseen. It seems to me that there is in
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Speaker 1: each of us a capacity to comprehend the impressions and
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Speaker 1: emotions which have been experienced by mankind from the beginning.
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Speaker 1: Each individual has a subconscious memory of the green earth
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Speaker 1: and murmuring waters, and blindness and deafness cannot rock him
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Speaker 1: of this gift from past generations. This inherited capacity is
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Speaker 1: a sort of sixth sense, a soul sense which sees
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Speaker 1: hears feelds all in one. I have many tree friends
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Speaker 1: in Rentham. One of them, a splendid oak, is the
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Speaker 1: special pride of my heart. I take all my other
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Speaker 1: friends to see this king tree. It stands on a
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Speaker 1: bluff overlooking King Philip's pond, and those who are wise
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Speaker 1: in tree lore say it must have stood there eight
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Speaker 1: hundred or a thousand years. There is a tradition that
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Speaker 1: under this tree, King Philip, the heroic Indian chief, gazed
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Speaker 1: his last on earth and sky. I had another tree, friend,
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Speaker 1: gentle and more approachable than the great oak, a linden,
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Speaker 1: that grew in the door yard at Red Farm. One
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Speaker 1: afternoon during a terrible thunder storm, I felt a tremendous
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Speaker 1: crash against the side of the house, and knew even
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Speaker 1: before they told me that the linden had fallen. We
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Speaker 1: went out to see the hero that had withstood so
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Speaker 1: many tempests, and it wrung my heart to see him prostrate,
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Speaker 1: who had mightily striven and was now mightily fallen. But
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Speaker 1: I must not forget that I was going to write
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Speaker 1: about last summer in particular. As soon as my examinations
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Speaker 1: were over, Miss Sullivan and I hastened to this green nook,
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Speaker 1: where we have a little cottage, on one of the
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Speaker 1: three lakes for which Rantham is famous. Here the long
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Speaker 1: sunny days were mine, and all thoughts of work and
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Speaker 1: college and the noisy city were thrust into the background.
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Speaker 1: In Wrantham we caught echoes of what was happening in
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Speaker 1: the World War Alliance, social conflict. We heard of the cruel,
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Speaker 1: unnecessary fighting in the far away Pacific, and learned of
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Speaker 1: the struggles going on between capital and labor. We knew
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Speaker 1: that beyond the border of our Eden, men were making history.
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Speaker 1: By the sweat of their brows. They might better make
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Speaker 1: a holiday, But we little heeded these things. These things
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Speaker 1: would pass away here where lakes and woods and broad
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Speaker 1: daisy starred fields and sweet breath meadows, and they shall
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Speaker 1: endure forever. People who think that all sensations reach us
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Speaker 1: through the eye and the ear have expressed surprise that
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Speaker 1: I should notice any difference, except possibly the absence of pavements,
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Speaker 1: between walking in city streets and in country roads. They
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Speaker 1: forget that my whole body is alive to the conditions
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Speaker 1: about me. The rumble and roar of the city smite
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Speaker 1: the nerves of my face, and I feel the ceaseless
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Speaker 1: strump of an unseen multitude, and the dissonant tumult frets
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Speaker 1: my spirit. The grinding of heavy wagons on hard pavements
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Speaker 1: and the monotonous clangor of machinery are all the more
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Speaker 1: torturing to the nerves. If one's attention is not diverted
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Speaker 1: by the panorama that is always present in the nose
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Speaker 1: streets to people who can see. In the country, one
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Speaker 1: sees only nature's fair works, and one's soul is not
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Speaker 1: saddened by the cruel struggle for mere existence that goes
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Speaker 1: on in the crowded city. Several times I have visited
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Speaker 1: the narrow, dirty streets where the poor live, and I
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Speaker 1: grow hot and indignant to think that good people should
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Speaker 1: be content to live in fine houses and become strong
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Speaker 1: and beautiful, while others are condemned to live in hideous,
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Speaker 1: sunless tenements and grow ugly, withered and cringing. The children
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Speaker 1: who crowd these grimy alleys, half clad and underfed, shrink
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Speaker 1: away from your outstretched hand as if from a blow.
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Speaker 1: Dear little creatures, they crouch in my heart and haunt
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Speaker 1: me with a constant sense of pain. There are men
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Speaker 1: and women, too, all gnarled and bent out of shape.
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Speaker 1: I have felt there are hard, rough hands, and realized
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Speaker 1: what an endless struggle did. Existence must be no more
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Speaker 1: than a series of scrimmages thwarted attempts to do something.
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Speaker 1: Their life seems an immense disparity between effort and opportunity,
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Speaker 1: the sun and the air are God's free gifts to all?
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Speaker 1: We say, But are they so? In yonder city's dingy alleys,
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Speaker 1: the sun shines not, and the air its foul. O man,
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Speaker 1: how dost thou forget and obstruct thy brother man, and say,
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Speaker 1: give us this day our daily bread when he has none? Oh?
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Speaker 1: Would that men would leave the city its splendor and
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Speaker 1: its tumult and its gold, and return to wood and
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Speaker 1: field and simple, honest living. Then would their children grow
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Speaker 1: stately as noble trees, and their thoughts sweet and pure
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Speaker 1: as wayside flowers. It is impossible not to think of
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Speaker 1: all this when I return to the country after a
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Speaker 1: year of work in town. What a joy it is
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Speaker 1: to feel the soft, springy earth under my feet once more,
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Speaker 1: to follow grassy roads that lead to ferny brooks, where
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Speaker 1: I can bathe my fingers in a cataract of rippling notes,
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Speaker 1: Or to clamber over a stone wall into green fields
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Speaker 1: that tumble and roll and climb in ryotous gladness. Next
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Speaker 1: to a leisurely walk, I enjoy a spin on my
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Speaker 1: tandem bicycle. It is splendid to feel the wind blowing
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Speaker 1: in my face and the springy motion of my iron steed.
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Speaker 1: The rapid rush through the air gives me a delicious
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Speaker 1: sense of strength and buoyancy, and the exercise makes my
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Speaker 1: pulses dance and my heart sing. Whenever it is possible,
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Speaker 1: my dog accompanies me on a walk, or a ride
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Speaker 1: or a sailed. I have had many dog friends, huge mastiffs,
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Speaker 1: soft eyed spaniels, wood wide setters, and honest, homely bull terriers.
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Speaker 1: At present, the lord of my affections is one of
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Speaker 1: these bull terriers. He has a long pedigree, a crooked tail,
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Speaker 1: and the drawlest fizz in dogdam. My dog friends seem
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Speaker 1: to understand my limitations and always keep close beside me
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Speaker 1: when I am alone. I love their affectionate ways and
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Speaker 1: the eloquent wag of their tails. When a rainy day
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Speaker 1: keeps me indoors, I amuse myself after the manner of
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Speaker 1: other girls. I liked knit and crochet. I read in
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Speaker 1: the happy, go lucky way. I love here and there
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Speaker 1: a line, or perhaps I play a game or two
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Speaker 1: of checkers or chess with a friend. I have a
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Speaker 1: special board on which I play these games. The squares
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Speaker 1: are cut out so that the men stand in them firmly.
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Speaker 1: The black checkers are flat and the white ones curved
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Speaker 1: on top. Each checker has a hole in the middle
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Speaker 1: in which a brass knob can be placed to distinguish
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Speaker 1: the king from the commons. The chess men are of
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Speaker 1: two sizes, the white larger than the black, so that
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Speaker 1: I have I have no trouble in following my opponent's
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Speaker 1: maneuvers by moving my hands lightly over the board. After
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Speaker 1: a play, The jar made by shifting the men from
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Speaker 1: one hole to another tells me when it is my turn.
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Speaker 1: If I happen to be all alone and in an
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Speaker 1: idle mood, I play a game of solitaire, of which
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Speaker 1: I am very fond. I use playing cards marked in
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Speaker 1: the upper right hand corner with braille symbols, which indicate
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Speaker 1: the value of the card. If there are children around,
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Speaker 1: nothing pleases me so much as to frolic with them.
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Speaker 1: I find even the smallest child excellent company, and I
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Speaker 1: am glad to say that children usually like me. They
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Speaker 1: lead me about and show me the things they are
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Speaker 1: interested in. Of course, the little ones cannot spell on
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Speaker 1: their fingers, but I manage to read their lips. If
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Speaker 1: I do not succeed, they resort to dumb show. Sometimes
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Speaker 1: I make a mistake and do the wrong thing. A
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Speaker 1: burst of childish laughter greets my blunder, and the pantomime
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Speaker 1: begins all over again. I often tell them stories or
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Speaker 1: teach them a game, and the winged hours depart and
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Speaker 1: leave us good and happy. Museums and art stores are
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Speaker 1: also sources of pleasure and inspiration. Doubtless it will seem
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Speaker 1: strange to many that the hand unaided by sight can
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Speaker 1: feel action, sentiment, beauty in the cold marble. And yet
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Speaker 1: it is true that I derive genuine pleasure from touching
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Speaker 1: great works of art. As my finger tips trace, line
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Speaker 1: and curve, they discover the thought and emotion which the
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Speaker 1: artist has portrayed. I can feel in the faces of
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Speaker 1: gods and heroes, hate, courage, and love, just as I
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Speaker 1: can detect them in living faces I am permitted to touch.
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Speaker 1: I feel in Diana's posture the grace and freedom of
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Speaker 1: the forest, and the spirit that tames the mountain lion,
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Speaker 1: and some use the fiercest passions. My soul delights in
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Speaker 1: the repose and gracious curves of the Venus, and in
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Speaker 1: Bard's bronzes, the secrets of the jungle are revealed to me.
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Speaker 1: A medallion of Homer hangs on the wall of my study,
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Speaker 1: conveniently low, so that I can easily reach it and
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Speaker 1: touch the beautiful, sad face with loving reverence. How well
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Speaker 1: I know each line in that majestic brow tracts of
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Speaker 1: life and bitter evidences of struggle and sorrow, those sightless sides,
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Speaker 1: seeking even in the cold plaster, for the light and
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Speaker 1: the blue skies of his beloved Hellas, but seeking in vain.
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Speaker 1: That beautiful mouth, firm and true and tender. It is
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Speaker 1: the face of a poet, and of a man acquainted
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Speaker 1: with sorrow. Ah, how well I understand his deprivation, the
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Speaker 1: perpetual night in which he dwelt o dark dark, amid
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Speaker 1: the blaze of noon, irrecoverably dark, total eclipse, without all
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Speaker 1: hope of day. In imagination I can hear Homer singing,
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Speaker 1: as with unsteady, hesitating steps he gropes his way from
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Speaker 1: camp to camp, singing of life, of love, of war,
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Speaker 1: of the splendid achievements of a noble race. It was
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Speaker 1: a wonderful, glorious song, and it won the blind poet
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Speaker 1: an immortal crown, the admiration of all ages. I sometimes
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Speaker 1: wonder if the hand is not more sensitive to the
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Speaker 1: beauties of sculpture than the eye. I should think the
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Speaker 1: wonderful rhythmical flow of lines and curves could be more
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Speaker 1: subtly felt than seen. Be this as it may, I
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Speaker 1: know that I can feel the heart throbs of the
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Speaker 1: ancient Greeks in their marble gods and goddesses. Another pleasure,
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Speaker 1: which comes more rarely than the others, is going to
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Speaker 1: the theater. I enjoy having a play described to me
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Speaker 1: while it is being acted on the stage, far more
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Speaker 1: than reading it, because then it seems as if I
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Speaker 1: were living in the midst of stirring events. It has
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Speaker 1: been my privilege to meet a few great actors and
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Speaker 1: actresses who have the power of so bewitching you that
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Speaker 1: you forget time and place and live again in the
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Speaker 1: romantic past. I have been permitted to touch the face
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Speaker 1: and costume of Miss Ellen Terry, as she impersonated our
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Speaker 1: ideal of a queen, and there was about her that
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Speaker 1: divinity that hedged sublimest to woe. Beside her stood Sir
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Speaker 1: Henry Irving, wearing the symbols of kinship, and there was
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Speaker 1: majesty of intellect in his every gesture and attitude, And
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Speaker 1: the Royalty that subdues and overcomes in every line of
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Speaker 1: its sensitive face. In the King's face, which he wore
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Speaker 1: as a mask, there was a remoteness and inaccessibility of
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Speaker 1: grief which I shall never forget. I also know mister Jefferson.
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Speaker 1: I am proud to count him among my friends. I
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Speaker 1: go to see him whenever I happen to be where
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Speaker 1: he is acting. The first time I saw him act
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Speaker 1: was while at school in New York. He played Rip
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Speaker 1: van Winkle. I had often read the story, but I
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Speaker 1: had never felt the charm of Ripped's slow, quaint kind
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Speaker 1: ways as I did in the play. Mister Jefferson's beautiful,
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Speaker 1: pathetic representation quite carried me away with delight. I have
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Speaker 1: a picture of old Rip in my fingers, which they
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Speaker 1: will never lose. After the play, Miss Sullivan took me
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Speaker 1: to see him behind the scenes, and I felt of
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Speaker 1: his curious garb and his flowing hair and beard. Mister
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Speaker 1: Jefferson let me touch his face so that I could
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Speaker 1: imagine how he looked on waking from that strange sleep
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Speaker 1: of twenty years, and he showed me how poor old
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Speaker 1: Rip staggered to his feet. I have also seen him
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Speaker 1: in the Rivals once, while I was calling on him
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Speaker 1: in Boston, he acted the most striking parts of the
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Speaker 1: Rivals for me. The reception room where we sat served
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Speaker 1: for a stage. He and his son seated themselves at
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Speaker 1: the big table, and Bob Acres wrote his challenge. I
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Speaker 1: followed all his movements with my hands, and caught the
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Speaker 1: drollery of his blunders and gestures in a way that
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Speaker 1: would have been impossible had it all been spelled to me.
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Speaker 1: Then they rose to fight the duel, and I followed
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Speaker 1: the swift thrust and parrys of the swords, and the
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Speaker 1: waverings of poor Bob as his courage woozed out at
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Speaker 1: his finger ends. Then the great actor gave his coat
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Speaker 1: a hitch and his mouth a twitch. And in an
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Speaker 1: instance I was in the village of Falling Water and
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Speaker 1: felt Schneider's shaggy head against my knee. Mister Jefferson recited
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Speaker 1: the best dialogues of Rip van Winkle, in which the
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Speaker 1: tear came close upon the smile. He asked me to indicate,
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Speaker 1: as far as I could, the gestures and action that
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Speaker 1: should go with the lines. Of course, I have no
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Speaker 1: sense whatever of dramatic action, and could make only random guesses,
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Speaker 1: but with masterful art, he suited the action to the
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Speaker 1: word the sigh of rip as he murmurs. Is a
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Speaker 1: man so soon forgotten when he is gone, the dismay
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Speaker 1: with which he searches for dog and gun after his
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Speaker 1: long sleep, and his comical irresolution over signing the contract
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Speaker 1: with Derrick. All deeds seem to be right out of
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Speaker 1: life itself. That is the ideal life, where things happen
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Speaker 1: as we think they should. I remember well the first
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Speaker 1: time I went to the theater. It was twelve years ago. L.
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Speaker 1: D Leslie, the little actress, was in Boston, and Miss
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Speaker 1: Sullivan took me to see her in The Prince and
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Speaker 1: the Pauper. I shall never forget the ripple of alternating
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Speaker 1: joy and woe that ran through that beautiful little play,
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Speaker 1: or the wonderful child who acted it. After the play,
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Speaker 1: I was permitted to go behind the scenes and meet
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Speaker 1: her in her royal costume. It would have been hard
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Speaker 1: to find a lovelier or more lovable child than Elsie,
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Speaker 1: as she stood with a cloud of golden hair floating
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Speaker 1: over her shoulders, smiling brightly, showing no signs of shyness
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Speaker 1: or fatigue, though she had been playing to an immense audience.
22:25
Speaker 1: I was only just learning to speak, and had previously
22:28
Speaker 1: repeated her name until I could say it perfectly. Imagine
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Speaker 1: my delight when she understood the few words I spoke
22:35
Speaker 1: to her, and without hesitation, stretched her hand to greet me.
22:41
Speaker 1: Is it not true, then, that my life, with all
22:43
Speaker 1: its limitations, touches at many points the life of the
22:46
Speaker 1: world beautiful, everything has it wonders, even darkness and silence.
22:52
Speaker 1: And I learn, whatever state I may be in, therein
22:55
Speaker 1: to be content. Sometimes it is true a sense of
22:59
Speaker 1: isolation enfold me like a cold mist as I sit
23:02
Speaker 1: alone and wait at life's shut gait. Beyond there is
23:06
Speaker 1: light and music and sweet companionship. But I may not
23:10
Speaker 1: enter fate, silent, pitiless bars the way fain would I
23:16
Speaker 1: question his imperious decree. For my heart is still undisciplined
23:20
Speaker 1: and passionate. But my tongue will not utter the bitter,
23:23
Speaker 1: futile words that rise to my lips, and they fall
23:27
Speaker 1: back into my heart like unshed tears. Silence sits immense
23:31
Speaker 1: upon my soul. Then comes hope with a smile and whispers,
23:36
Speaker 1: there is joy in self forgetfulness. So I try to
23:40
Speaker 1: make the light in others eyes, my son, the music
23:43
Speaker 1: in other's ears my symphony, the smile on other's lips,
23:47
Speaker 1: my happiness. End of Chapter twenty two,