Story_of_My_Life_by_Helen___Keller.pdf

Story of My Lifeby Helen KellerThis ebook was produced by C.Rainfield.This ebook and more available athttp:/www.CherylRThis ebook was prepared using etext producedby Project Gutenberg,from the original etext kelle10.txt.This ebook version copyright 2003C.RainfieldAll Rights Reserved1Part I.The Story of My LifeChapter IIt is with a kind of fear that I begin to write the history of my life.I have,as it were,asuperstitious hesitation in lifting the veil that clings about my childhood like a golden mist.Thetask of writing an autobiography is a difficult one.When I try to classify my earliest impressions,I find that fact and fancy look alike across the years that link the past with the present.Thewoman paints the childs experiences in her own fantasy.A few impressions stand out vividlyfrom the first years of my life;but the shadows of the prison-house are on the rest.Besides,many of the joys and sorrows of childhood have lost their poignancy;and many incidents of vitalimportance in my early education have been forgotten in the excitement of great discoveries.Inorder,therefore,not to be tedious I shall try to present in a series of sketches only the episodesthat seem to me to be the most interesting and important.I was born on June 27,1880,in Tuscumbia,a little town of northern Alabama.The family on my fathers side is descended from Caspar Keller,a native of Switzerland,whosettled in Maryland.One of my Swiss ancestors was the first teacher of the deaf in Zurich andwrote a book on the subject of their education-rather a singular coincidence;though it is truethat there is no king who has not had a slave among his ancestors,and no slave who has not had aking among his.My grandfather,Caspar Kellers son,entered large tracts of land in Alabama and finally settledthere.I have been told that once a year he went from Tuscumbia to Philadelphia on horseback topurchase supplies for the plantation,and my aunt has in her possession many of the letters to hisfamily,which give charming and vivid accounts of these trips.My Grandmother Keller was a daughter of one of Lafayettes aides,Alexander Moore,andgranddaughter of Alexander Spotswood,an early Colonial Governor of Virginia.She was alsosecond cousin to Robert E.Lee.My father,Arthur H.Keller,was a captain in the Confederate Army,and my mother,KateAdams,was his second wife and many years younger.Her grandfather,Benjamin Adams,married Susanna E.Goodhue,and lived in Newbury,Massachusetts,for many years.Their son,Charles Adams,was born in Newburyport,Massachusetts,and moved to Helena,Arkansas.When the Civil War broke out,he fought on the side of the South and became abrigadier-general.He married Lucy Helen Everett,who belonged to the same family of Everettsas Edward Everett and Dr.Edward Everett Hale.After the war was over the family moved toMemphis,Tennessee.2I lived,up to the time of the illness that deprived me of my sight and hearing,in a tiny houseconsisting of a large square room and a small one,in which the servant slept.It is a custom in theSouth to build a small house near the homestead as an annex to be used on occasion.Such ahouse my father built after the Civil War,and when he married my mother they went to live in it.It was completely covered with vines,climbing roses and honeysuckles.From the garden itlooked like an arbour.The little porch was hidden from view by a screen of yellow roses andSouthern smilax.It was the favourite haunt of humming-birds and bees.The Keller homestead,where the family lived,was a few steps from our little rose-bower.It wascalled Ivy Green because the house and the surrounding trees and fences were covered withbeautiful English ivy.Its old-fashioned garden was the paradise of my childhood.Even in the days before my teacher came,I used to feel along the square stiff boxwood hedges,and,guided by the sense of smell would find the first violets and lilies.There,too,after a fit oftemper,I went to find comfort and to hide my hot face in the cool leaves and grass.What joy itwas to lose myself in that garden of flowers,to wander happily from spot to spot,until,comingsuddenly upon a beautiful vine,I recognized it by its leaves and blossoms,and knew it was thevine which covered the tumble-down summer-house at the farther end of the garden!Here,also,were trailing clematis,drooping jessamine,and some rare sweet flowers called butterfly lilies,because their fragile petals resemble butterflies wings.But the roses-they were loveliest of all.Never have I found in the greenhouses of the North such heart-satisfying roses as the climbingroses of my southern home.They used to hang in long festoons from our porch,filling the wholeair with their fragrance,untainted by any earthy smell;and in the early morning,washed in thedew,they felt so soft,so pure,I could not help wondering if they did not resemble the asphodelsof Gods garden.The beginning of my life was simple and much like every other little life.I came,I saw,Iconquered,as the first baby in the family always does.There was the usual amount of discussionas to a name for me.The first baby in the family was not to be lightly named,every one wasemphatic about that.My father suggested the name of Mildred Campbell,an ancestor whom hehighly esteemed,and he declined to take any further part in the discussion.My mother solved theproblem by giving it as her wish that I should be called after her mother,whose maiden namewas Helen Everett.But in the excitement of carrying me to church my father lost the name on theway,very naturally,since it was one in which he had declined to have a part.When the ministerasked him for it,he just remembered that it had been decided to call me after my grandmother,and he gave her name as Helen Adams.I am told that while I was still in long dresses I showed many signs of an eager,self-assertingdisposition.Everything that I saw other people do I insisted upon imitating.At six months Icould pipe out How dye,and one day I attracted every ones attention by saying Tea,tea,teaquite plainly.Even after my illness I remembered one of the words I had learned in these earlymonths.It was the word water,and I continued to make some sound for that word after allother speech was lost.I ceased making the sound wah-wah only when I learned to spell the3word.They tell me I walked the day I was a year old.My mother had just taken me out of the bath-tuband was holding me in her lap,when I was suddenly attracted by the flickering shadows of leavesthat danced in the sunlight on the smooth floor.I slipped from my mothers lap and almost rantoward them.The impulse gone,I fell down and cried for her to take me up in her arms.These happy days did not last long.One brief spring,musical with the song of robin andmocking-bird,one summer rich in fruit and roses,one autumn of gold and crimson sped by andleft their gifts at the feet of an eager,delighted child.Then,in the dreary month of February,came the illness which closed my eyes and ears and plunged me into the unconsciousness of anew-born baby.They called it acute congestion of the stomach and brain.The doctor thought Icould not live.Early one morning,however,the fever left me as suddenly and mysteriously as ithad come.There was great rejoicing in the family that morning,but no one,not even the doctor,knew that I should never see or hear again.I fancy I still have confused recollections of that illness.I especially remember the tendernesswith which my mother tried to soothe me in my waling hours of fret and pain,and the agony andbewilderment with which I awoke after a tossing half sleep,and turned my eyes,so dry and hot,to the wall away from the once-loved light,which came to me dim and yet more dim each day.But,except for these fleeting memories,if,indeed,they be memories,it all seems very unreal,like a nightmare.Gradually I got used to the silence and darkness that surrounded me and forgotthat it had ever been different,until she came-my teacher-who was to set my spirit free.Butduring the first nineteen months of my life I had caught glimpses of broad,green fields,aluminous sky,trees and flowers which the darkness that followed could not wholly blot out.If wehave once seen,the day is ours,and what the day has shown.4Chapter III cannot recall what happened during the first months after my illness.I only know that I sat inmy mothers lap or clung to her dress as she went about her household duties.My hands feltevery object and observed every motion,and in this way I learned to know many things.Soon Ifelt the need of some communication with others and began to make crude signs.A shake of thehead meant No and a nod,Yes,a pull meant Come and a push,Go.Was it bread that Iwanted?Then I would imitate the acts of cutting the slices and buttering them.If I wanted mymother to make ice-cream for dinner I made the sign for working the freezer and shivered,indicating cold.My mother,moreover,succeeded in making me understand a good deal.I alwaysknew when she wished me to bring her something,and I would run upstairs or anywhere else sheindicated.Indeed,I owe to her loving wisdom all that was bright and good in my long night.I understood a good deal of what was going on about me.At five I learned to fold and put awaythe clean clothes when they were brought in from the laundry,and I distinguished my own fromthe rest.I knew by the way my mother and aunt dressed when they were going out,and Iinvariably begged to go with them.I was always sent for when there was company,and when theguests took their leave,I waved my hand to them,I think with a vague remembrance of themeaning of the gesture.One day some gentlemen called on my mother,and I felt the shutting ofthe front door and other sounds that indicated their arrival.On a sudden thought I ran upstairsbefore any one could stop me,to put on my idea of a company dress.Standing before the mirror,as I had seen others do,I anointed mine head with oil and covered my face thickly with powder.Then I pinned a veil over my head so that it covered my face and fell in folds down to myshoulders,and tied an enormous bustle round my small waist,so that it dangled behind,almostmeeting the hem of my skirt.Thus attired I went down to help entertain the company.I do not remember when I first realized that I was different from other people;but I knew itbefore my teacher came to me.I had noticed that my mother and my friends did not use signs as Idid when they wanted anything done,but talked with their mouths.Sometimes I stood betweentwo persons who were conversing and touched their lips.I could not understand,and was vexed.I moved my lips and gesticulated frantically without result.This made me so angry at times that Ikicked and screamed until I was exhausted.I think I knew when I was naughty,for I knew that it hurt Ella,my nurse,to kick her,and whenmy fit of temper was over I had a feeling akin to regret.But I cannot remember any instance inwhich this feeling prevented me from repeating the naughtiness when I failed to get what Iwanted.In those days a little coloured girl,Martha Washington,the child of our cook,and Belle,an oldsetter,and a great hunter in her day,were my constant companions.Martha Washingtonunderstood my signs,and I seldom had any difficulty in making her do just as I wished.It pleasedme to domineer over her,and she generally submitted to my tyranny rather than risk a5hand-to-hand encounter.I was strong,active,indifferent to consequences.I knew my own mindwell enough and always had my own way,even if I had to fight tooth and nail for it.We spent agreat deal of time in the kitchen,kneading dough balls,helping make ice-cream,grinding coffee,quarreling over the cake-bowl,and feeding the hens and turkeys that swarmed about the kitchensteps.Many of them were so tame that they would eat from my hand and let me feel them.Onebig gobbler snatched a tomato from me one day and ran away with it.Inspired,perhaps,byMaster Gobblers success,we carried off to the woodpile a cake which the cook had just frosted,and ate every bit of it.I was quite ill afterward,and I wonder if retribution also overtook theturkey.The guinea-fowl likes to hide her nest in out-of-the-way places,and it was one of my greatestdelights to hunt for the eggs in the long grass.I could not tell Martha Washington when I wantedto go egg-hunting,but I would double my hands and put them on the ground,which meantsomething round in the grass,and Martha always understood.When we were fortunate enough tofind a nest I never allowed her to carry the eggs home,making her understand by emphatic signsthat she might fall and break them.The sheds where the corn was stored,the stable where the horses were kept,and the yard wherethe cows were milked morning and evening were unfailing sources of interest to Martha and me.The milkers would let me keep my hands on the cows while they milked,and I often got wellswitched by the cow for my curiosity.The making ready for Christmas was always a delight to me.Of course I did not know what itwas all about,but I enjoyed the pleasant odours that filled the house and the tidbits that weregiven to Martha Washington and me to keep us quiet.We were sadly in the way,but that did notinterfere with our pleasure in the least.They allowed us to grind the spices,pick over the raisinsand lick the stirring spoons.I hung my stocking because the others did;I cannot remember,however,that the ceremony interested me especially,nor did my curiosity cause me to wakebefore daylight to look for my gifts.Martha Washington had as great a love of mischief as I.Two little children were seated on theveranda steps one hot July afternoon.One was black as ebony,with little bunches of fuzzy hairtied with shoestrings sticking out all over her head like corkscrews.The other was white,withlong golden curls.One child was six years old,the other two or three years older.The youngerchild was blind-that was I-and the other was Martha Washington.We were busy cutting outpaper dolls;but we soon wearied of this amusement,and after cutting up our shoestrings andclipping all the leaves off the honeysuckle that were within reach,I turned my attention toMarthas corkscrews.She objected at first,but finally submitted.Thinking that turn and turnabout is fair play,she seized the scissors and cut off one of my curls,and would have cut them alloff but for my mothers timely interference.Belle,our dog,my other companion,was old and lazy and liked to sleep by the open fire ratherthan to romp with me.I tried hard to teach her my sign language,but she was dull and6inattentive.She sometimes started and quivered with excitement,then she became perfectly rigid,as dogs do when they point a bird.I did not then know why Belle acted in this way;but I knewshe was not doing as I wished.This vexed me and the lesson always ended in a one-sided boxingmatch.Belle would get up,stretch herself lazily,give one or two contemptuous sniffs,go to theopposite side of the hearth and lie down again,and I,wearied and disappointed,went off insear