What Is Visible: A Novel

by Kimberly Elkins

  He’d apparently been very supportive of Florence Nightingale too, when she came to him for advice in England on his honeymoon. Julia told Sarah how furious she’d been that he had encouraged the young woman to work while insisting that Julia herself not even publish her poetry. “Miss Nightingale is not married,” he’d told his wife. Neither was Miss Dix. Of course, neither was Sarah; perhaps she should embark upon a crusade for which the great man would trumpet her. No, all he wanted of her was that she keep Laura Bridgman out of the blind girls’ beds, and heaven knows, that was task enough for Sarah. She might truly rather tackle the bedlamites.

  As soon as Miss Dix arrived, she insisted they take Laura out for a walk on the beach. She was a big believer in getting everyone outdoors, if possible, and though it was raining lightly, Sarah acquiesced. Laura delighted in the rain, though it was bad for her to be out in the wet, especially as sickly as she often was, so Sarah rarely allowed her this pleasure. But today, and for Miss Dix, anything. Sarah held the large black umbrella over the two as they walked and talked along the water’s edge, Miss Dix just barely keeping Laura out of the foam as it surged and retreated. They both knew that if she let her go, even for an instant, she would be up to her knees in the surf. She loved all water, warm, cold, no matter. Laura would bathe every day if her teacher would let her, and only the admonitions by Doctor about the potential damage of too much bathing kept her away from the taps.

  Another wonderful thing about Miss Dix was that she always included Sarah in the conversation, unlike many other famous visitors, like Longfellow or Thomas Wentworth Higginson, who held private court with Laura, while her teacher had no idea what they were discussing, unless one of them required her assistance with communication.

  Miss Dix looped her other arm in Sarah’s. “I was telling Laura that I’m petitioning the federal government to set aside five million acres for the care of our lunatics. And the rest for the deaf.” She patted Laura’s hand. “It is doubtful, however, that Congress will accede to my plan, though I have been winning them over state by state.”

  Laura grabbed at Sarah’s palm. “But I stay here with you.”

  Miss Dix laughed. “She is concerned about being trapped with the maniacs.”

  “As she should be,” Sarah ventured.

  “But some of them get better,” Miss Dix said. “It is astonishing, but I’ve witnessed it many times. With the right care and compassion, the madness can be lifted, or at least held at bay, especially for the melancholics.”

  Sarah watched the waves roll in and out, pinholed by the drizzle. Her own dear brother was of such disposition, but sometimes even he was seized with gaiety, if not a complete reprieve. Her own temperament tended that way, Doctor had warned her, and this offhand diagnosis was not a complete surprise to her. She knew that she must keep her spirits up for Laura, even when in the midst of one of her spells, which she felt sure were of a physical, rather than a mental, nature.

  By the time they’d walked down to the pier and back, all three were fairly sopped, but in an excellent frame nonetheless. Miss Dix kissed them both on each cheek, the way she said it was done in Europe, and went to meet with Doctor.

  After Miss Dix left, Laura was in high fodder, so Sarah seized the moment, though it took a while to get her inside. Laura twirled around, bumping into furniture, trying to get her teacher to dance with her. Usually Sarah obliged, but today it seemed unwise, given the intended subject of the conversation. Finally she got her down.

  “Important,” Sarah wrote, but Laura interrupted her.

  “Music still playing,” she said and then pressed a finger to her temple as if to turn it off. Sarah waited patiently, but apparently the tune had started again, because Laura was still rocking and tapping her feet.

  “Talked with Doctor,” Sarah wrote, and that got her attention.

  “Me?”

  “Yes.” She struggled to put it in terms that would brook no argument from the girl, so she skipped right to Doctor’s mandate, because while Laura might debate the abstract, she still very much wanted to please Howe. “Doctor wants you stay in own bed,” she wrote. “Not bother girls.”

  “Not bother,” Laura wrote. “Play. They like.”

  “Doctor doesn’t like.”

  “But blinds sleep together.”

  Sarah had known this was coming; even she often slept with her sister or cousin at home for warmth. She took the only tack that worked with Laura: “But you are special.” This almost always did the trick, and frankly, it was true.

  “Doctor said?”

  “Yes.”

  “Special good?”

  “Of course. Doctor worries. Says sleep better alone.”

  “But I like…” Her fingers trailed in Sarah’s palm, and her teacher was grateful for once that she could not articulate exactly what she meant. “Stay alone always?”

  Though she could not see the tears behind the shade or hear them in the girl’s voice, Sarah knew that she was beginning to cry. Without the usual cues, it had taken her a while to figure out when Laura was crying, unless she was going full out―nose dripping, shoulders shaking―which only happened maybe once a month lately. Now the corners of her mouth turned down and her fingers faltered.

  “God with you,” Sarah wrote. It was the best she could do.

  “God not warm.”

  Well, Sarah couldn’t argue with that.

  “You sleep with me?”

  “Grown ladies sleep alone,” she wrote emphatically. “Jeannette alone. Cook alone.”

  “Julia alone?”

  Oh dear. Sarah scrambled. Ah― “Julia sleeps with baby.”

  Laura nodded slowly. “If I have baby, can sleep with me?”

  “Yes.” Sarah felt no qualms making this promise because she knew it would never happen.

  “When does God give baby?”

  Oh no, it was backfiring. Think. “When two people love each other, God gives them a baby.” This explanation seemed to satisfy Laura, and to Sarah’s surprise, it satisfied her as well. She hadn’t known she was quite so wise.

  Chapter 11

  Julia, 1847

  Julia had found Sarah to be a good companion, the best at least that the Institution offered. No society belles here, no great minds with which to discuss philosophy or the latest poetry. Chev, of course, was capable of these things, but he refused. He was all action, little thought, her husband, though she’d long ago realized that that was a choice and not necessarily a character trait. And deprived of his animal rights, he granted her very little attention, though he doted on the children and the students. She knew that if she burned out her eyeballs with a fiery poker, he would be all tens and elevenses again. Sarah was decently educated, respectful of Julia’s position, and thoughtful in her opinions, if a little dull, though her slavish devotion to Laura was beyond Julia’s comprehension. She herself was not that rapt in her attentions to her own children, even with a third on the way. She loved them all dearly, especially her first, Julia Romana, who, at two, was turning out to be as beautiful and sensitive as her mother. They were all her little planets, revolving around her sun, while it was clear that for Sarah, Laura was the center of the universe and all revolved around her. But still she found herself searching out Sarah’s company, especially in these last months of her confinement. Her own dear sisters were far away, and letters could not look back at you and give you the sympathy you craved. And so the price for Sarah’s company was allowing Laura to play with Julia Romana, though she kept baby Florence well out of her reach. Florence was a good child, much sweeter than her sister, but the sting of being forced to name her after Chev’s protégé, Miss Nightingale, had not yet lost its venom. And soon there would be another one! She was still aghast that her body had produced three children in as many years. Though she loved her husband and even the physical side of their relationship, she had been thoroughly unprepared for this relentless onslaught of nature. And what toll it had taken on both her body and mind: she found herse
lf unable to bring forth the quotes and aphorisms for which she was noted, and unlike some other women with child, her complexion suffered, no longer pink and rosy, but pale and drawn, though she knew she was still counted among the loveliest of Boston’s blooms. Chev had criticized even the way she walked, not cradling the precious treasure of her belly the way most pregnant women did, but instead with her arms rigidly at her sides.

  Julia was still quite wary of Laura, the way one would be around an unpredictable dog. The girl vacillated between jumping on her, patting and petting, overwhelming her with physical affection, which she did not return; and blatantly ignoring her, pretending she wasn’t even in the room. Julia knew good and well that Laura could always tell who was in a room; she couldn’t explain how, especially without a sense of smell, but she had an almost unfailing knack for knowing who entered and who left. “Air changes,” was her only explanation, though she was clearly proud of her ability. And Julia had to admit, the children seemed to enjoy playing with her; perhaps because she was, in some ways, on their level, and they regarded her as a playmate in kind.

  Today Julia and Sarah sat over tea in the playroom, supervising Laura as she attempted a game of tops with the girls. It was these drowsy afternoons, spring sunlight from the latticed windows dappling her children’s extraordinary curls, that she felt she could unburden herself, just a little. After all, Sarah was the perfect confidante; she apparently spoke to no one but Laura and a bit to Jeannette. She was not close with the other teachers, whom she’d confessed she found somewhat frivolous and low-minded, and Julia knew that out of respect for her Sarah would never repeat anything to Laura. Still, Julia shocked even herself when she confided that while Doctor was thrilled with the pregnancy, she felt uneasy, occasionally despondent. “I am much happier producing poems than children, while my husband insists on the reverse.”

  Sarah blushed. It seemed to Julia that she had already accepted the edict of spinsterhood from the Lord and that it didn’t bother her, perhaps because she was dead on her feet every day from taking care of one of His children whom He’d amply slighted.

  “I wouldn’t know much about that,” Sarah said. “The truth is I probably never will.”

  It was true she was quite plain with her fine whey hair and pale gaze, the kind of woman a man’s eyes never lit on first in any room, but still there must be someone, equally slight, to match with her. Julia took her hand. “I doubt that, my dear. You would be an excellent mother, though you are too hard on yourself, and far too soft on your charge.”

  “I can’t be anything but soft with her,” Sarah said. “She has so little, and she tries so hard for love.”

  “Whose love?” Julia asked, her eyes narrowing, thinking of the girl’s ridiculous attachment to her husband.

  Sarah turned to her. “Anyone’s.”

  After that conversation, in spite of her queasiness about the blind, Julia began to thaw toward Laura, giving her more playtime with the tots, and as Laura sensed this shift, she too became warmer to her former rival. She began insisting on serving Julia tea, and though it was a potentially dangerous mission, Julia allowed it, and to Laura’s credit, she only scalded Julia once. And when Laura asked, as she had with Julia’s other pregnancies, if she could touch her stomach, Julia surprised herself by consenting, even helping Laura to kneel and situate her hands. Then Laura pressed her whole face into the dome of Julia’s belly, and they both let out a yelp as the baby kicked once, hard. Laura pulled away and stood up, then wrote on Julia’s palm: “Boy.” What cheek the girl had, and yet Julia felt instantly that she was right. How could she possibly know?

  On one occasion, Chev popped his head into the nursery, and he looked as if he’d suddenly come upon the three witches of Macbeth toiling and troubling over his children. He actually stammered, and when he left, Julia began to giggle, and then Sarah started in too, and soon they were both nearly doubled over.

  The next afternoon, Julia brought a pamphlet and handed it to Sarah. It was about the ocularists who’d set up shop in New York. She’d found it in her desk last night when she was looking for a new ink blotter, having forgotten that she’d picked it up in New York.

  “I mentioned this to Chev years ago,” she said, “getting the eyes for her, but he didn’t seem interested. I think he believes himself too much a purist to adorn Laura with artificial devices. The Germans were making mostly enamel eyes—very easily damaged, I’m told—but now they’re blowing beautiful glass ones in all colors. I met a young lady on the train to New York last year who had perfectly lovely green eyes. They looked almost real in a certain light.”

  Sarah nodded. “I had considered bringing that matter up to Doctor, but I’m afraid I lacked the courage.”

  “He can be a lion,” Julia said, “but I will help you tame him, just enough. Tell her. Go ahead.”

  “I hesitate to incite her with the prospect because she will be so disappointed if―”

  “I will make it happen,” Julia said, and she patted Sarah’s arm and then Laura’s, suddenly as confident of her great powers as she had been before her marriage.

  As Sarah wrote into Laura’s hand, the girl’s face brightened with joy, as if she had just been given the greatest gift of her life. “I’ll get big blue ones,” she wrote to Julia.

  Julia warmed to the girl’s excitement and to her own compassion and generosity. After all, what a boon eyeballs, even the facsimile of such, would prove to the girl’s countenance. She might come to look almost normal, and that would certainly make her much more pleasant to be around. Aesthetics were nothing to be slighted. Early in her husband’s courtship, when she had been sure he would grant her every whim, Julia had asked to see Laura without the shade and had been shocked by the violence of Chev’s denial. It was as if she had asked to see the girl stripped buck naked. Now her youthful curiosity had abated, and she was thankful she had been spared the sight of those blighted sockets, which would probably have given her nightmares.

  After this news, Julia didn’t think Sarah would be able to get Laura to settle back down, but Laura sat quietly at their feet, her head inclined upward to the left the way it was when she did her deepest thinking. Finally she reached for Julia’s hand, and Julia spoke the words as they were written.

  “She asks if I remember when she hurt my ear. She says she only wanted to feel the bumps on my head.” Did she remember? How could she ever forget those fingers, thin as pencils, jammed into her ear. It had felt as if Laura was trying to tunnel straight through to her brain, perhaps to remove it. Julia recalled with pride how well she’d handled that assault in Chev’s presence, but afterward, she was reduced to shaking and crying in her room for the afternoon, and the memory pricked at her still. Julia smiled at Sarah. “That was before your time. She did have a go at me, but the truth is I don’t much believe in the science of phrenology, as my husband does.”

  She could tell from Sarah’s expression that she wasn’t a believer either, but she was clearly afraid to voice her opinion on a topic so sacred to her employer. But as Julia wrote of her doubts in Laura’s hand, she saw that Laura was shocked, her mouth open in an O. Then she nodded and signed rapidly into Julia’s palm.

  “She says she thinks phrenology interferes with free will,” Julia told Sarah. “Exactly. If we are born with bumps that govern our character, then how are we to grow and change?” She’d had no idea the two of them shared this sentiment. Laura had far more depth and independence of thought than she’d given her credit for.

  Julia laughed as Sarah watched them converse. Both of them could have been knocked over with a feather. She’d had no inkling that Laura could be such a compelling creature, under the right circumstances.

  Julia made an appointment for the three of them to speak with her husband about the ocularists. She and Chev had been on good terms lately, and so she felt reasonably sure that she could convince him. And wouldn’t he be delighted that she was not only spending time with Laura, but was actually trying to do some
thing for the girl. Julia had given the pamphlet to Sarah for a good study and suggested she accompany Laura to New York for the fitting. It would be nice for them both to visit New York since neither of them had been. Julia briefly considered going with them as a guide to her beloved city, but she couldn’t, after all, take them to any of her old haunts or to meet her friends or family. It would be unfair to all to expect too much of the young women and a breach of taste and imposition to expect her friends to readily accept them into their houses. Of course, there was the fame card to play with Laura, but seriously, could she bear the girl’s strange company for a week? How did Sarah do it? She had thought of giving Sarah some of her old clothes for the trip so that they might at least have dinner somewhere reputable, but the poor dear could never fill out the bustline without much retailoring. What a blessing to have round and perfect bosoms; as a matter of fact, she might have to use them today to gain the advantage with her husband. The pregnancy had near doubled them, and he had not been allowed a squeeze since her third month in, so she chose a much lower neckline than a woman in her state would generally advertise.