Kitobni o'qish: «Marm Lisa», sahifa 4
VII
THE COMET AND THE FIXED STAR
‘I don’t feel that I can part with Lisa now, just as she’s beginning to be a help to me,’ argued Mrs. Grubb, shortly after she had been welcomed and ensconced in a rocking-chair. ‘As Madame Goldmarker says, nobody else in the world would have given her a home these four years, and a good many wouldn’t have had her round the house.’
‘That is true,’ replied Mary, ‘and your husband must have been a very good man from all you tell me, Mrs. Grubb.’
‘Good enough, but totally uninteresting,’ said that lady laconically.
‘Well, putting aside the question as to whether goodness ought to be totally uninteresting, you say that Lisa’s mother left Mr. Grubb three hundred dollars for her food and clothing, and that she has been ever since a willing servant, absolutely devoted to your interests.’
‘We never put a cent of the three hundred dollars into our own pockets,’ explained Mrs. Grubb. ‘Mr. Grubb was dreadfully opposed to my doing it, but every penny of it went to freeing our religious society from debt. It was a case of the greatest good of the greatest number, and I didn’t flinch. I thought it was a good deal more important that the Army of Present Perfection should have a roof over its head than that Lisa Bennett should be fed and clothed; that is, if both could not be done.’
‘I don’t know the creed of the Army, but it seems to me your Presently Perfect soldiers would have been rather uncomfortable under their roof if Lisa Bennett had been naked and starving outside.’
‘Oh, it would never have come to that,’ responded Mrs. Grubb easily. ‘There is plenty of money in the world, and it belongs equally to the whole human race. I don’t recognise anybody’s right to have a dollar more than I have; but Mr. Grubb could never accept any belief that had been held less than a thousand years, and before he died he gave some money to a friend of his, and told him to pay me ten dollars every month towards Lisa’s board. Untold gold could never pay for what my pride has suffered in having her, and if she hadn’t been so useful I couldn’t have done it,—I don’t pretend that I could. She’s an offence to the eye.’
‘Not any longer,’ said Mary proudly.
‘Well, she was up to a few months ago; but she would always do anything for the twins, and though they are continually getting into mischief she never lets any harm come to them, not so much as a scratch. If I had taken a brighter child, she would have been for ever playing on her own account and thinking of her own pleasure; but if you once get an idea into Lisa’s head of what you expect her to do, she will go on doing it to the end of the world, and wild horses couldn’t keep her from it.’
‘It’s a pity more of us hadn’t that virtue of obedience to a higher law.’
‘Well, perhaps it is, and perhaps it isn’t; it’s a sign of a very weak mind.’
‘Or a very strong one,’ retorted Mary.
‘There are natural leaders and natural followers,’ remarked Mrs. Grubb smilingly, as she swayed to and fro in Mary’s rocking-chair. Her smile, like a ballet-dancer’s, had no connection with, nor relation to, the matter of her speech or her state of feeling; it was what a watchmaker would call a detached movement. ‘I can’t see,’ said she, ‘that it is my duty to send Lisa away to be taught, just when I need her most. My development is a good deal more important than hers.’
‘Why?’
‘Why? Because I have a vocation and a mission; because, if I should falter or faint by the wayside, hundreds of women who depend on me for inspiration would fall back into error and suffer permanent loss and injury.’
‘Do you suppose they really would?’ asked Mary rather maliciously, anxious if possible to ruffle the surface of Mrs. Grubb’s exasperating placidity. ‘Or would they, of course after a long period of grief-stricken apathy, attach themselves to somebody else’s classes?’
‘They might,’ allowed Mrs. Grubb, in a tone of hurt self-respect; ‘though you must know, little as you’ve seen of the world, that no woman has just the same revelation as any other, and that there are some who are born to interpret truth to the multitude. I can say in all humility that it has been so with me from a child. I’ve always had a burning desire to explore the secret chambers of Thought, always yearned to understand and explain the universe.’
‘I have never tried to explain it,’ sighed Mary a little wearily; ‘one is so busy trying to keep one’s little corner clean and sweet and pleasant, a helpful place where sad and tired souls can sit down and rest.’
‘Who wants to sit down and rest? Not I!’ exclaimed Mrs. Grubb. ‘But then, I’m no criterion, I have such an active mind.’
‘There are just a few passive virtues,’ said Mary teasingly. ‘We must remember that activity doesn’t always make for good; sometimes it is unrest, disintegration; not growth, Mrs. Grubb, but fermentation.’
Mrs. Grubb took out a small blank-book and made a note, for she had an ear for any sentence that might be used in a speech.
‘That is true. “Distrust the activity which is not growth, but fermentation” that will just hit some ladies in my classes, and it comes right in with something I am going to say this evening. We have a Diet Congress here this week, and there’s a good deal of feeling and dispute between the various branches. I have two delegates stopping with me, and they haven’t spoken to each other since yesterday morning, nor sat down to eat at the same table. I shall do all I can, as the presiding officer, to keep things pleasant at the meetings, but it will be difficult. You’ve never been in public life and can’t understand it, but you see there are women among the delegates who’ve suffered the tyranny of man so long that they will cook anything their husbands demand; women who believe in eating any kind of food, and hold that the principal trouble lies in bad cooking; women who will give up meat, but still indulge in all sorts of cakes, pastries, and kickshaws; and women who are strong on temperance in drink, but who see no need of temperance in food. The whole question of diet reform is in an awful state, and a Congress is the only way to settle it.’
‘How do men stand on the diet question?’ asked Mary, with a twinkle in her eye.
‘They don’t stand at all,’ answered Mrs. Grubb promptly. ‘They sit right still, and some of them lie down flat, you might say, whenever it’s mentioned. They’ll do even more for temperance than they will for reformed diet, though goodness knows they’re fond enough of drinking. The Edenites number about sixty-seven in this city, and nine is the largest number of gentlemen that we’ve been able to interest. Those nine are the husbands and sons of the lady members, and at the next meeting two of them are going to be expelled for backsliding. I declare, if I was a man, I’d be ashamed to confess that I was all stomach; but that’s what most of them are. Not that it’s easy work to be an Edenite: it’s impossible to any but a highly spiritual nature. I have been on the diet for six months, and nothing but my position as vice-president of the society, and my desire to crush the body and release the spirit, could have kept me faithful. I don’t pretend to like it, but that doesn’t make me disloyal. There’s nothing I enjoy better than a good cut of underdone beef, with plenty of dish gravy; I love nice tender porter-house steaks with mushrooms; I love thick mutton-chops broiled over a hot fire: but I can’t believe in them, and my conscience won’t allow me to eat them. Do you believe in meat?’
‘Certainly.’
‘I don’t see why you say “certainly.” You would be a good deal better off without it. You are filling yourself full of carnal, brutal, murderous passions every time you eat it. The people who eat meat are not half so elevated nor half so teachable as the Edenites.’
‘The Edenites are possibly too weak and hungry to resist instruction,’ said Mary.
‘They are neither weak nor hungry,’ replied their vice-president, with dignity. ‘They eat milk, and stewed fruit, and all the edible grains nicely boiled. It stands to reason that if you can subdue your earthly, devilish, sensual instincts on anything, you can do it on a diet like that. You can’t fancy an angel or a Mahatma devouring underdone beef.’
‘No,’ agreed Mistress Mary; ‘but for that matter, the spectacle of an angel eating dried-apple sauce doesn’t appeal to my imagination.’
‘It’s no joking matter,’ said Mrs. Grubb, with real tears in her eyes. ‘It was my interest in Theosophy that brought me to the Edenic diet. I have good and sufficient motives for denying my appetite, for I’ve got a certain goal to reach, and I’m in earnest.’
‘Then here’s my hand, and I respect you for it. Oh, how I should like a hot mutton-chop at this moment!—Do forgive me.’
‘I forgive you, because I can see you act up to all the light that has been revealed to you. I don’t know as I ought to be proud because I see so much truth. My classes tell me I get these marvellous revelations because I’m so open-minded. Now Mr. Grubb wouldn’t and couldn’t bear discussion of any sort. His soul never grew, for he wouldn’t open a clink where a new idea might creep in. He’d always accompany me to all my meetings (such advantages as that man had and missed!), and sometimes he’d take the admission tickets; but when the speaking began, he’d shut the door and stay out in the entry by himself till it was time to wait upon me home. Do you believe in vaccination?’
‘Certainly.’
‘Well, it passes my comprehension how you can be so sure of your beliefs. You’d better come and hear some of the arguments on the opposite side. I am the secretary of the Anti-Vaccination League.’ (Mrs. Grubb was especially happy in her anti-societies; negatives seemed to give her more scope for argument.) ‘I say to my classes, “You must not blame those to whom higher truths do not appeal, for refusing to believe in that which they cannot understand; but you may reprove them for decrying or ridiculing those laws or facts of nature which they have never investigated with an unprejudiced mind.” Well, I must be going. I’ve sat longer than I meant to, this room is so peaceful and comfortable.’
‘But what about Lisa’s future? We haven’t settled that, although we’ve had a most interesting and illuminating conversation.’
‘Why, I’ve told you how I feel about her, and you must respect my feeling. The world can only grow when each person allows his fellow-man complete liberty of thought and action. I’ve kept the child four years, and now when my good care and feeding, together with the regular work and early hours I’ve always prescribed, have begun to show their fruits in her improved condition, you want she should be put in some institution. Why, isn’t she doing well enough as she is? I’m sure you’ve had a wonderful influence over her.’
‘Nothing could induce me to lose sight of her entirely,’ said Mistress Mary, ‘but we feel now that she is ready to take the next step. She needs a skilled physician who is master both of body and mind, as well as a teacher who is capable of following out his principles. I will see to all that, if you will only give me the privilege.’
Mrs. Grubb sank down in the rocking-chair in despair. ‘Don’t I need some consideration as well as that little imbecile? Am I, with my ambitions and aspirations, to be for ever hampered by these three nightmares of children? Oh, if I could once get an astral body, I would stay in it, you may be sure!’
‘You do not absolutely need Lisa yourself,’ argued Mary. ‘It is the twins to whom she has been indispensable. Provide for them in some way, and she is freed from a responsibility for which she is not, and never was, fit. It is a miracle that some tragedy has not come out of this daily companionship of three such passionate, irresponsible creatures.’
‘Some tragedy will come out of it yet,’ said Mrs. Grubb gloomily, ‘if I am not freed from the shackles that keep me in daily slavery. The twins are as likely to go to the gallows as anywhere; and as for Lisa, she would be a good deal better off dead than alive, as Mrs. Sylvester says.’
‘That isn’t for us to decide,’ said Mistress Mary soberly. ‘I might have been careless and impertinent enough to say it a year ago, but not now. Lisa has all along been the victim of cruel circumstances. Wherever she has been sinned against through ignorance, it is possible, barely possible, that the fault may be atoned for; but any neglect of duty now would be a criminal offence. It does not behove us to be too scornful when we remember that the taint (fortunately a slight one) transmitted to poor little Lisa existed in greater or less degree in Handel and Molière, Julius Cæsar, Napoleon, Petrarch, and Mohammed. The world is a good deal richer for them, certainly.’
Mrs. Grubb elevated her head, the light of interest dawned in her eye, and she whipped her notebook out of her pocket.
‘Is that a fact?’ she asked excitedly.
‘It is a fact.’
‘Is it generally known?’
‘It must be known by all who have any interest in the education of defective persons, since it touches one of the bug-bears which they have to fight.’
‘Is there any society in this city devoted to the study of such problems?’
‘There is a society which is just on the point of opening an institution for the training of defective children.’
Mrs. Grubb’s face fell, and her hand relaxed its grasp upon the pencil. (If there was anything she enjoyed, it was the sensation of being a pioneer in any movement.) Presently she brightened again.
‘If it is just starting,’ she said, ‘then it must need more members, and speakers to stir up the community. Now, I am calculated, by constant association with a child of this character, to be of signal service to the cause. Not many persons have had my chance to observe phenomena. Just give me a letter to the president,—have they elected officers yet?—where do they meet?—and tell him I’ll call on him and throw all the weight of my influence on his side. It’s wonderful! Handel, Molière, Buddha, was it—Buddha?—Cæsar, Petrarch, and Wellington,—no, not Wellington. Never mind, I’ll get a list from you to-morrow and look it all up,—it’s perfectly marvellous! And I have one of this great, unhappy, suffering class in my own family, one who may yet be transformed into an Elizabeth Browning or a Joan of Arc!’
Mistress Mary sighed in her heart. She learned more of Mrs. Grubb with every interview, and she knew that her enthusiasms were as discouraging as her apathies.
‘How unlucky that I mentioned Napoleon, Cæsar, and Mohammed!’ she thought. ‘I shall be haunted now by the fear that she will go on a lecturing-tour through the country, and exhibit poor Lisa as an interesting example. Mrs. Grubb’s mind is like nothing so much as a crazy-quilt.’
VIII
THE YOUNG MINISTER’S PSYCHOLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS
Mrs. Grubb’s interest in the education of the defective classes was as short-lived as it was ardent. One interview with the president of the society convinced her that he was not a person to be ‘helped’ according to her understanding of the term. She thought him a self-sufficient gentleman, inflexible in demeanour, and inhospitable to anybody’s ideas or anybody’s hobbies but his own. She resented his praise of Mistress Mary and Rhoda, and regarded it fulsome flattery when he alluded to their experiment with Marm Lisa as one of the most interesting and valuable in his whole experience; saying that he hardly knew which to admire and venerate the more—the genius of the teachers, or the devotion, courage, and docility of the pupil.
In the summer months Lisa had gone to the country with Mistress Mary and Edith, who were determined never to lose sight of her until the end they sought was actually attained. There, in the verdant freshness of that new world, Lisa experienced a strange exaltation of the senses. Every wooded path unfolded treasures of leafy bud, blossom, and brier, and of beautiful winged things that crept and rustled among the grasses. There was the ever new surprise of the first wild-flowers, the abounding mystery of the bird’s note and the brook’s song, the daily greeting of bees and butterflies, frogs and fishes, field-mice and squirrels; so that the universe, which in the dead past had been dreary and without meaning, suddenly became warm and friendly, and she, the alien, felt a sense of kinship with all created things.
Helen had crossed the continent to imbibe the wisdom of the East, and had brought back stores of knowledge to spend in Lisa’s service; but Rhoda’s sacrifice was perhaps the most complete, for Mrs. Grubb having at first absolutely refused to part with Lisa, Rhoda had flung herself into the breach and taken the twins to her mother’s cottage in the mountains.
She came up the broad steps, on a certain appointed day in August, leading her charges into Mistress Mary’s presence. They were clean, well dressed, and somewhat calm in demeanour.
‘You may go into the playground,’ she said, after the greetings were over; ‘and remember that there are sharp spikes on the high fence by the pepper-tree.’
‘Mary,’ she went on impressively, closing the doors and glancing about the room to see if there were any listeners, ‘Mary, those children have been with me eight weeks, and I do—not—like—them. What are you going to do with me? Wait, I haven’t told you the whole truth,—I dislike them actively. As for my mother, she is not committed to any theory about the essential integrity of infancy, and she positively abhors them.’
‘Then they are no more likable in the bosom of the family than they have been here?’ asked Mary, in a tone of disappointment.
‘More likable? They are less so! Do you see any change in me,—a sort of spiritual effulgence, a saintly radiance, such as comes after a long spell of persistent virtue? Because there ought to be, if my summer has served its purpose.’
‘Poor dear rosy little martyr! Sit down and tell me all about it.’
‘Well, we have kept a log, but—’
‘“We?” What, Rhoda! did you drag your poor mother into the experiment?’
‘Mother? No, she generally locked herself in her room when the twins were indoors, but—well, of course, I had help of one sort and another with them. I have held to your plan of discipline pretty well; at any rate, I haven’t administered corporal punishment, although, if I had whipped them whenever they actually needed it, I should have worn out all the young minister’s slippers.’
Mary groaned. ‘Then there was another young minister? It doesn’t make any difference, Rhoda, whether you spend your summers in the woods or by the sea, in the valleys or on the mountains, there is always a young minister. Have all the old ones perished off the face of the earth, pray? And what do the young ones see in you, you dear unregenerate, that they persist in following you about threatening my peace of mind and your future career? Well, go on!’
‘Debarred from the use of the persuasive but obsolete slipper,’ Rhoda continued evasively, ‘I tried milder means of discipline,—solitary confinement for one not very much, you know,—only seventeen times in eight weeks. I hope you don’t object to that? Of course, it was in a pleasant room with southern exposure, good view, and good ventilation, a thermometer, picture-books, and all that. It would have worked better if the twins hadn’t always taken the furniture to pieces, and mother is so fussy about anything of that sort. She finally suggested the winter bedroom for Atlantic’s incarceration, as it has nothing in it but a huge coal-stove enveloped in a somewhat awe-inspiring cotton sheet. I put in a comfortable low chair, a checkerboard, and some books, fixing the time limit at half an hour. By the way, Mary, that’s such a pretty idea of yours to leave the door unlocked, and tell the children to come out of their own accord whenever they feel at peace with the community. I tried it,—oh, I always try your pretty ideas first; but I had scarcely closed the door before Pacific was out of it again, a regenerated human being according to her own account. But to return to Atlantic. I went to him when the clock struck, only to discover that he had broken in the circles of isinglass round the body of the coal-stove, removed the ashes with a book, got the dampers out of order, and taken the doors off the hinges! I am sure Mrs. Grubb is right to keep them on bread-and-milk and apple-sauce; a steady diet of beef and mutton would give them a simply unconquerable energy. Oh, laugh as you may, I could never have lived through the ordeal if it hadn’t been for the young minister!’
‘Do you mean that he became interested in the twins?’
‘Oh, yes!—very deeply interested. You have heard me speak of him: it was Mr. Fielding.’
‘Why, Rhoda, he was the last summer’s minister, the one who preached at the sea-shore.’
‘Certainly; but he was only supplying a pulpit there; now he has his own parish. He is taking up a course of child-study, and asked me if he was at liberty to use the twins for psychological observations. I assented most gratefully, thinking, you know, that he couldn’t study them unless he kept them with him a good deal; but he counted without his host, as you can imagine. He lives at the hotel until his cottage is finished, and the first thing I knew he had hired a stout nursemaid as his contribution to the service of humanity. I think he was really sorry for me, for I was so confined I could scarcely ever ride, or drive, or play tennis; and besides, he simply had to have somebody to hold the children while he observed them. We succeeded better after the nurse came, and we all had delightful walks and conversations together, just a nice little family party! The hotel people called Atlantic the Cyclone, and Pacific the Warrior. Sometimes strangers took us for the children’s parents, and that was embarrassing; not that I mind being mistaken for a parent, but I decline being credited, or discredited, with the maternity of those imps!’
‘They are altogether new in my experience,’ confessed Mary.
‘That is just what the young minister said.’
‘Will he keep up his psychological investigation during the autumn?’ Mary inquired.
‘He really has no material there.’
‘What will he do, then?—carry it on by correspondence?’
‘No, that is always unsatisfactory. I fancy he will come here occasionally: it is the most natural place, and he is especially eager to meet you.’
‘Of course!’ said Mistress Mary, reciting provokingly:
‘“My lyre I tune, my voice I raise,
But with my numbers mix my sighs,
And whilst I sing Euphelia’s praise
I fix my soul on Chloe’s eyes.”’
‘How delightful,’ she added, ‘how inspiring it is to see a young man so devoted to science, particularly to this neglected science! I shall be charmed to know more of his psychology and observe his observations.’
‘He is extremely clever.’
‘I have no doubt of it from what you tell me, both clever and ingenious.’
‘And his cottage is lovely; it will be finished and furnished by next summer,—Queen Anne, you know.’
Now, this was so purely irrelevant that there was a wicked hint of intention about it; and though Mistress Mary was smiling (and quaking) in the very depths of her heart, she cruelly led back the conversation into safe educational channels. ‘Isn’t it curious,’ she said, ‘that we should have thought Lisa, not the twins, the impossible problem? Yet, as I have written you, her solution is something to which we can look forward with reasonable confidence. It is scarcely eighteen months, but the work accomplished is almost incredible, even to me, and I have watched and counted every step.’
‘The only explanation must be this,’ said Rhoda, ‘that her condition was largely the fruit of neglect and utter lack of comprehension. The state of mind and body in which she came to us was out of all proportion to the moving cause, when we discovered it. Her mother thought she would be an imbecile, the Grubbs treated her as one, and nobody cared to find out what she really was or could be.’
‘Her brain had been writ upon by the “moving finger,”’ quoted Mary, ‘though the writing was not graved so deep but that love and science could erase it. You remember the four lines in Omar Khayyàm?
“‘The moving finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all your piety nor wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a line,
Nor all your tears wash out a word of it.”’
‘Edith says I will hardly know her,’ said Rhoda.
‘It is true. The new physician is a genius, and physically and outwardly she has changed more in the last three months than in the preceding year. She dresses herself neatly now, braids her own hair, and ties her ribbons prettily. Edith has kept up her gymnastics, and even taught her to row and play nine-pins. For the first time in my life, Rhoda, I can fully understand a mother’s passion for a crippled, or a blind, or a defective child. I suppose it was only Lisa’s desperate need that drew us to her at first. We all loved and pitied her, even at the very height of her affliction; but now she fascinates me. I know no greater pleasure than the daily miracle of her growth. She is to me the sister I never had, the child I never shall have. When we think of our success with this experiment, we must try to keep our faith in human nature, even under the trying ordeal of the twins.’
‘My faith in human nature is absolutely intact,’ answered Rhoda; ‘the trouble is that the Warrior and the Cyclone are not altogether human. Atlantic is the coldest creature I ever knew,—so cold that he could stand the Shadrach-Meshech-and Abednego test with impunity; Pacific is hot,—so hot-tempered that one can hardly touch her without being scorched. If I had money enough to conduct an expensive experiment, I would separate them, and educate Pacific at the North Pole, and Atlantic in the Tropics.’
‘If they are not distinctly human, we must allow them a few human virtues at least,’ said Mary; ‘for example, their loyalty to each other. Pacific, always at war with the community, seldom hurts her brother; Atlantic, selfish and grasping with all the world, shares generously with his sister. We must remember, too, that Lisa’s care has been worse than nothing for them, notwithstanding its absolute fidelity; and their dependence has been a positive injury to her. There! she has just come into the playground with Edith. Will wonders never cease? Pacific is embracing her knees, and Atlantic allows himself to be hugged!’
Marm Lisa was indeed beside herself with joy at the meeting. She clung to the infant rebels, stroked their hair, admired their aprons, their clean hands, their new boots; and, on being smartly slapped by Atlantic for putting the elastic of his hat behind his ears, kissed his hand as if it had offered a caress. ‘He’s so little,’ she said apologetically, looking up with wet eyes to Edith, who stood near.
