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

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  Speaker 1: Chapter twenty three 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 three. Would that
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  Speaker 1: I could enrich this sketch with the names of all
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  Speaker 1: those who have ministered to my happiness. Some of them
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  Speaker 1: would be found written in our literature and dear to
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  Speaker 1: the hearts of many, while others would be wholly unknown
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  Speaker 1: to most of my readers. But their influence, though it
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  Speaker 1: escapes fame, shall live immortal in the lives that have
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  Speaker 1: been sweetened and ennobled by it. Those are red letter
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  Speaker 1: days in our lives. When we meet people who thrill
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  Speaker 1: us like a fine poem, people whose hand shake is
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  Speaker 1: brimful of unspoken sympathy, and whose sweet, rich natures impart
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  Speaker 1: to our eager, impatient spirits a wonderful restfulness, which in
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  Speaker 1: its essence is divine. The perplexities, irritations, and worry that
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  Speaker 1: have absorbed us pass like unpleasant dreams, and we wake
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  Speaker 1: to see with new eyes and hear with new ears
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  Speaker 1: the beauty and harmony of God's real world. The solemn
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  Speaker 1: nothings that fill our everyday life blossom suddenly into bright possibilities.
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  Speaker 1: In a word, while such friends are near us, we
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  Speaker 1: feel that all is well. Perhaps we never saw them before,
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  Speaker 1: and they may never cross our life's path again. But
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  Speaker 1: the influence of their calm, mellow natures is a libation
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  Speaker 1: poured upon our discontent, and we feel its healing touch,
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  Speaker 1: as the ocean feels the mountain stream freshening its brine.
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  Speaker 1: I have often been asked, do not people bore you?
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  Speaker 1: I do not understand quite what that means. I suppose
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  Speaker 1: the calls of the stupid and curious, especially of newspaper reporters,
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  Speaker 1: are always in opportune. I also dislike people who try
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  Speaker 1: to talk down to my understanding. They are like people who,
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  Speaker 1: when walking with you, try to shorten their steps to
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  Speaker 1: suit yours. The hypocrisy in both cases is equally exasperating.
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  Speaker 1: The hands of those I meet are dumbly eloquent. To me.
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  Speaker 1: The touch of some hands is an impertinence. I have
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  Speaker 1: met people so empty of joy that when I clasped
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  Speaker 1: their frosty finger tips, it seemed as if I were
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  Speaker 1: shaking hands with a northeast storm. Others there are whose
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  Speaker 1: hands have sunbeams in them, so that they grasp warms
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  Speaker 1: my heart. It may be only the clinging touch of
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  Speaker 1: a child's hand, but there is as much potential sunshine
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  Speaker 1: in it for me as there is in a loving
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  Speaker 1: glance for others. A hearty handshake or a friendly letter
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  Speaker 1: gives me genuine plasure. I have many far off friends
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  Speaker 1: whom I have never seen. Indeed, they are so many
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  Speaker 1: that I have often been unable to reply to their letters.
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  Speaker 1: But I wish to say hear that I am always
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  Speaker 1: grateful for their kind words, however insufficiently I acknowledged them.
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  Speaker 1: I counted one of the sweetest privileges of my life
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  Speaker 1: to have known and conversed with many men of genius.
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  Speaker 1: Only those who knew Bishop Brooks can appreciate the joy
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  Speaker 1: his friendship was to those who possessed it. As a child,
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  Speaker 1: I loved to sit on his knee and clasp his
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  Speaker 1: great hand with one of mine, while Miss Sullivan spelled
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  Speaker 1: into the other his beautiful words about God and the
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  Speaker 1: spiritual world. I heard him with the child's wonder and delight.
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  Speaker 1: My spirit could not reach up to his, but he
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  Speaker 1: gave me a real sense of joy in life, and
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  Speaker 1: I never left him without carrying away a fine thought
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  Speaker 1: that grew in beauty and depth of meaning as I grew. Once,
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  Speaker 1: when I was puzzled to know why there were so
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  Speaker 1: many religions, he said, there is one universal religion, Helen,
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  Speaker 1: the religion of love. Love your heavenly Father with your
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  Speaker 1: whole heart and soul. Love every child of God as
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  Speaker 1: much as ever you can, and remember that the possibilities
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  Speaker 1: of good are greater than the possibilities of evil, and
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  Speaker 1: you have the key to Heaven. And his life was
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  Speaker 1: a happy illustration of his great truth. In his noble soul,
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  Speaker 1: love and widest knowledge were blended with faith that had
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  Speaker 1: become insight. He saw God in all that liberates and lifts,
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  Speaker 1: in all that humbles, sweetens, and consoles. Bishop Brooks taught
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  Speaker 1: me no special creed or dogma, but he impressed upon
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  Speaker 1: my mind two great ideas, the fatherhood of God and
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  Speaker 1: the brotherhood of man, and made me feel that these
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  Speaker 1: truths underlie all creeds and forms of worship. God is Love,
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  Speaker 1: God is our Father, and we are His children. Therefore
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  Speaker 1: the darkest clouds will break, and though right be worsted,
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  Speaker 1: wrong shall not triumph. I am too happy in this
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  Speaker 1: world to think much about the future, except to remember
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  Speaker 1: that I have cherished friends awaiting me there in God's
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  Speaker 1: beautiful somewhere. In spite of the lapse of years, they
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  Speaker 1: seemed so close to me that I should not think
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  Speaker 1: it strange if at any moment they should clasp my
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  Speaker 1: hand and speak words of endearment as they used to
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  Speaker 1: before they went away. Since Bishop Brooks died, I have
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  Speaker 1: read the Bible through also some philosophical works and religion,
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  Speaker 1: among them Swedenborg's Heaven and Hell and Drummond's Ascent of Man,
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  Speaker 1: and I have found no creed or system more soul
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  Speaker 1: satisfying than Bishop Brook's Creed of Love. I knew mister
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  Speaker 1: Henry Drummond, and the memory of his strong, warm hand
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  Speaker 1: clasp is like a benediction. He was the most sympathetic
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  Speaker 1: of companions. He knew so much and was so genial
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  Speaker 1: that it was impossible to feel dull in his presence.
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  Speaker 1: I remember well the first time I saw doctor Oliver
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  Speaker 1: Wendell Holmes. He had invited Miss Sullivan and me to
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  Speaker 1: call on him one Sunday afternoon. It was early in
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  Speaker 1: the spring, just after I had learnt to speak. We
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  Speaker 1: were shown at once to his library, where we found
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  Speaker 1: him seated in a big arm chair by an open fire,
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  Speaker 1: which glowed and crackled on the hearth. Thinking, he said,
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  Speaker 1: of other days, and listening to the murmur of the
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  Speaker 1: river Charles, I suggested, yes, he replied, the child has
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  Speaker 1: many dear associations for me. There was an odor of
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  Speaker 1: print and leather in the room, which told me that
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  Speaker 1: it was full of books, and I stretched out my
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  Speaker 1: hand instinctively to find them. My fingers lighted upon a
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  Speaker 1: beautiful volume of Tennyson's poems, and when Miss Sullivan told
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  Speaker 1: me what it was, I began to recite Break, Break,
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  Speaker 1: Break on thy cold gray stones o Sea. But I
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  Speaker 1: stopped suddenly. I felt tears on my hand. I had
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  Speaker 1: made my beloved poet weep, and I was greatly distressed.
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  Speaker 1: He made me sit in his arm chair while he
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  Speaker 1: brought different interesting things for me to examine, and at
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  Speaker 1: his request, I recited the Chambered Nautilus, which was then
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  Speaker 1: my favorite poem. After that, I saw Doctor Holmes many
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  Speaker 1: times and learned to love the man as well as
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  Speaker 1: the poet. One beautiful summer day, not long after my
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  Speaker 1: meeting with Doctor Holmes, Miss Sullivan and I visited Whittier
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  Speaker 1: in his quiet home on the Merrimac. His gentle courtesy
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  Speaker 1: and quaint speech won my heart. He had a book
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  Speaker 1: of his poems in raised print, from which I read
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  Speaker 1: in school days. He was delighted that I could pronounce
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  Speaker 1: the words so well, and said that he had no
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  Speaker 1: difficulty in understanding me. Then I asked many questions about
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  Speaker 1: the poem, and read his answers by placing my fingers
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  Speaker 1: on his lips. He said he was the little boy
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  Speaker 1: in the poem, and that the girl's name was Sally,
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  Speaker 1: and more which I have forgotten. I also recited Laos deo,
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  Speaker 1: and as I spoke the concluding verses, he placed in
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  Speaker 1: my hands a statue of a slave, from whose crouching
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  Speaker 1: figure the fetters were falling, even as they fell from
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  Speaker 1: Peter's limbs when the angel led him forth out of prison. Afterward,
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  Speaker 1: we went into his study, and he wrote his autograph
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  Speaker 1: for my teacher, and expressed his admiration of her work,
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  Speaker 1: saying to me, she is thy spiritual liberator. Then he
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  Speaker 1: led me to the gate and kissed me tenderly on
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  Speaker 1: my forehead. I promised to visit him again the following summer,
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  Speaker 1: but he died before the promise was fulfilled. Doctor Edward
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  Speaker 1: Everett Hale is one of my very oldest friends. I
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  Speaker 1: have known him since I was eight, and my love
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  Speaker 1: for him has increased with my ears. His wise, tender
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  Speaker 1: sympathy has been the support of Miss Sullivan and me
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  Speaker 1: in times of trial and sorrow, and his strong hand
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  Speaker 1: has helped us over many rough places. And what he
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  Speaker 1: has done for us he has done for thousands of
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  Speaker 1: those who have difficult tasks to accomplish. He has filled
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  Speaker 1: the old skins of dogma with the new wine of
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  Speaker 1: love and shown men what it is to believe, live
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  Speaker 1: and be free. What he has taught we have seen
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  Speaker 1: beautifully expressed in his own life, love of country, kindness
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  Speaker 1: to the least of his brethren, and a sincere desire
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  Speaker 1: to live upward and onward. He has been a prophet
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  Speaker 1: and an inspirer of men, and a mighty doer of
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  Speaker 1: the word, the friend of all his race. God bless him.
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  Speaker 1: I have already written of my first meeting with Doctor
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  Speaker 1: Alexander Graham Bell. Since then I have spent many happy
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  Speaker 1: days with him at Washington and at his beautiful home
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  Speaker 1: in the heart of Cape Breton Island, near Baddick, The
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  Speaker 1: village made famous by Charles Dudley Warner's book. Here in
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  Speaker 1: doctor Bell's laboratory or in the fields on the shore
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  Speaker 1: of the Great Brass Door, I have spent many delightful
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  Speaker 1: hours listening to what he had tell me about his experiments,
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  Speaker 1: and helping him fly kites by means of which he
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  Speaker 1: expected to discover the laws that shall govern the future airship.
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  Speaker 1: Doctor Bell is proficient in many fields of science, and
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  Speaker 1: has the art of making every subject he touches interesting,
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  Speaker 1: even the most abtruse theories. He makes you feel that,
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  Speaker 1: if you only had a little more time, you too
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  Speaker 1: might be an inventor. He has a humorous and poetic
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  Speaker 1: side too. His dominating passion is his love for children.
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  Speaker 1: He is never quite so happy as when he has
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  Speaker 1: a little deaf child in his arms. His labors in
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  Speaker 1: behalf of the death will live on and bless generations
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  Speaker 1: of children yet to come. And we love him alike
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  Speaker 1: for what he himself has achieved and for what he
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  Speaker 1: has evoked from others. During the two years I spent
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  Speaker 1: in New York, I had many opportunities to talk with
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  Speaker 1: distinguished people whose names I had often heard, but whom
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  Speaker 1: I had never expected to meet most of them. I
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  Speaker 1: met first in the house of my good friend mister
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  Speaker 1: Laurence Hutton. It was a great privilege to visit him
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  Speaker 1: and dear Missus Hutton in their lovely home, and see
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  Speaker 1: their library, and read the beautiful sentiments and bright thoughts
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  Speaker 1: gifted friends had written for them. It has been truly
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  Speaker 1: said that mister Hutton has the faculty of bringing out
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  Speaker 1: in every one the best thoughts and kindest sentiments. One
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  Speaker 1: does not need to read a boy I knew to
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  Speaker 1: understand him, the most generous, sweet natured boy I ever knew,
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  Speaker 1: a good friend in all sorts of weather, who traces
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  Speaker 1: the footprints of love in the life of dogs as
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  Speaker 1: well as in that of his fellow men. Missus Hutton
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  Speaker 1: is a true and tried friend. Much that I hold sweetest,
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  Speaker 1: much that I hold most precious, I owe to her.
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  Speaker 1: She has oftenest to vised and helped me in my
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  Speaker 1: progress through college. When I find my work particularly difficult
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  Speaker 1: and discouraging, she writes me letters that make me feel
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  Speaker 1: glad and brave, For she is one of those from
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  Speaker 1: whom we learn that one painful duty fulfilled makes the
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  Speaker 1: next plainer and easier. Mister Hutton introduced me to many
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  Speaker 1: of his literary friends, greatest of whom are mister William
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  Speaker 1: Dean Howells and Mark Twain. I also met mister Richard
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  Speaker 1: Watson Gilder and mister Edmund Clarence Steadman. I also knew
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  Speaker 1: mister Charles Dudley Warner, the most delightful of story tellers,
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  Speaker 1: and the most beloved friend, whose sympathy was so broad
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  Speaker 1: that it may be truly said of him he loved
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  Speaker 1: all living things and his neighbor as himself. Once mister
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  Speaker 1: Warner brought to see me the dear poet of the Woodlands,
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  Speaker 1: mister John Burrows. They were all gentle and sympathetic, and
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  Speaker 1: I felt the charm of their manner as much as
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  Speaker 1: I had felt the brilliancy of their essays and poems.
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  Speaker 1: I could not keep pace with all these literary fork
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  Speaker 1: as they glanced from subject to subject, and entered into
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  Speaker 1: deep dispute, or made conversation sparkle with epigrams and happy witticisms.
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  Speaker 1: I was like little Ascanius, who followed with unequal steps
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  Speaker 1: the heroic strides of Eneus on his march toward mighty destinies.
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  Speaker 1: But they spoke many gracious words. To me. Mister Gilder
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  Speaker 1: told me about his moonlight journeys across the vast desert
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  Speaker 1: to the Pyramids, and in a letter he wrote me,
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  Speaker 1: he made his mark under his signature deep in the
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  Speaker 1: paper so that I could feel it. This reminds me
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  Speaker 1: that doctor Hale used to give a personal touch to
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  Speaker 1: his letters to me by pricking his signature in Braille.
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  Speaker 1: I read from Mark Twain's lips one or two of
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  Speaker 1: his good stories. He has his own way of thinking, saying,
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  Speaker 1: and doing everything. I feeled a twinkle of his eye
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  Speaker 1: in his hand shake, even while he utters his cynical
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  Speaker 1: wisdom in an indescribably droll voice. He makes you feel
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  Speaker 1: that his heart is a tender iliad of human sympathy.
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  Speaker 1: There are a host of other interesting people I met
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  Speaker 1: in New York, Missus Mary Mapes Dodge, the beloved editor
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  Speaker 1: of Saint Nicholas, and Missus Riggs Kate Douglas Wiggan, the
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  Speaker 1: sweet author of Patsy. I received from them gifts that
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  Speaker 1: have the gentle concurrence of the heart, books containing their
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  Speaker 1: own thoughts, sole illumined letters and photographs that I love
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  Speaker 1: to have described again and again. But there is not
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  Speaker 1: space to mention all my friends, and indeed there are
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  Speaker 1: things about them hidden behind the wings of Cherubim, things
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  Speaker 1: too sacred to set forth in cold print. It is
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  Speaker 1: with hesitancy that I have spoken even of Missus Laurence Hutton.
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  Speaker 1: I shall mention only two other friends. One is missus
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  Speaker 1: William Thor of Pittsburgh, whom I have often visited in
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  Speaker 1: her home Lyndhurst. She is always doing something to make
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  Speaker 1: some one happy, and her generosity and wise counsel have
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  Speaker 1: never failed my teacher and me in all the years
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  Speaker 1: we have known her. To the other friend, I am
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  Speaker 1: also deeply indebted. He is well known for the powerful
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  Speaker 1: hand with which he guys vast enterprises, and his wonderful
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  Speaker 1: abilities have gained for him the respect of all kind
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  Speaker 1: to every one. He goes about doing good, silent and
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  Speaker 1: unseen again, and touch upon the circle of honored names.
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  Speaker 1: I must not mention, but I would fain acknowledge his
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  Speaker 1: generosity and affectionate interest, which make it possible for me
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  Speaker 1: to go to college. Thus it is that my friends
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  Speaker 1: have made the story of my life in a thousand ways.
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  Speaker 1: They have turned my limitations into beautiful privileges, and enabled
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  Speaker 1: me to walk serene and happy in the shadow cast
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  Speaker 1: by my deprivation. End of Chapter twenty three. End of
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  Speaker 1: the Story of My Life by Helen Keller