Source:http://lang.nagoya-u.ac.jp/~matsuoka/index.html
"At High Pressure
'Really, Linda, I do think you might
find time to take your meals properly The idea of
writing letters while you're eating!'
'I must catch
the very first post. There! that comes of fidgeting
me.'
Linda had let
a great ink-drop fall upon the tablecloth. Mrs. Vassie
cried remonstrance in a louder key; the two younger girls were indignant; and
their father, scampering over the columns of his newspaper in the few minutes
left before he must rush for the train, growled at the noise and confusion. As
in the great majority of families raised by paternal effort and the education
of children above the lower middle-class degree in which they began, mild
domestic discord was natural to the Vassies,
especially at breakfast-time. Mr. Vassie declared
that it was the cause of his dyspepsia. They did not quarrel with vulgar
violence; mother and girls alike had learned to pick their phrases, and to
abstain from excessive forms of irritation; but polite wrangling when the
family were alone, seldom ceased, and, as often as not, Linda gave occasion for
it.
This young
woman led a surprising life. Without the least pretence of preparing herself
for any recognised calling -- there was no need for her to do so -- she
exhibited an activity which would have taxed the constitution even of a strong
man. From morning to night -- often, indeed, till past midnight -- Linda was
engaged, at high pressure, in a great variety of pursuits. Her correspondence
alone represented a day's work for an ordinary person. She wrote to numberless
people, public and private, on all manner of subjects. Scarcely a book, magazine,
or newspaper came into her hands which did not suggest a letter of inquiry,
criticism, or sympathy; her collection of autographs was very large, and she
rejoiced loudly over every important addition to it. She attended all sorts of
meetings, in town and country, at an expense in railway fares which often
excited her father's protest. Her purely social engagements were numerous, and
she threw herself into all the common forms of recreation with no less energy
than into what she called her 'work.' Full of intellectual and moral
self-esteem, she lacked the common form of personal vanity; dress concerned her
little, and, since a very early age, she had never been known to betray
sensibility to sexual impressions:
Not that Miss
Vassie belonged to the advanced guard of emancipated
women: in weighty matters of opinion she was orthodox; her views of life
savoured of provincialism. But for this, it would have been impossible for her
to remain a member of the household at Westbourne Park. The forms of religion
(ritualistic) she discharged as punctually and conscientiously as any other of
her innumerable undertakings; they had their hours in the methodical scheme
which she drew up every Saturday for the ensuing week; prayers night and
morning were 'fitted in' -- to use her own constant phrase -- with admirable
precision; and a drawing-room meeting on some matter which concerned the
spiritual life often appeared in her time-table,' exactly wedged between
mundane appointments. The cause of 'womanhood' greatly concerned her, but in no
revolutionary sense. Herself the least domestic of persons, she maintained the
time-honoured theory of female duties. Personally, she seemed to demand nothing
but liberty to keep up a state of nervous tension, to speed about in cabs and
trains, to read all the periodicals of the day, to make endless new
acquaintances, and to receive a score of letters by every post.
Her age was
seven-and-twenty; if anything, she looked younger. After a rather sickly
childhood, she had grown into a thoroughly sound state of health, which seemed
to demand, and to profit by, astonishing physical activity. Whether she exerted
her mind in a corresponding degree, or at all in proportion to the show she
made of mental alertness and application, might reasonably be doubted. The
members of her family, though frank in condemnation of her self-will,
restlessness, and disputatious temper, never presumed to question Linda's
authority on all high matters; they marvelled at her learning, her mental
powers. She talked with fluency on most subjects current in the journalism of
the day. She professed, and believed, herself a sound critic of every art, with
something of special attainment in the sphere of music. She managed to 'fit in'
a good many half-hours of solitary study, the subjects varying at very short
intervals; one week her zeal would be for the historical aspect of the Eastern
Question; the next, she had resolved to learn 'everything' about Egyptology. As
she never accused herself of desultoriness, it was to be presumed that she felt
satisfied with the brief but vigorous efforts of her acute intelligence. At all
times, in whatever company, she spoke at a speed which would have baffled any stenographer,
and, when affecting to listen, she was evidently thinking of what she would say
next.
Miss Vassie's delight was to make herself the instructress, the
spiritual guide, of young girls. Whenever she could gather two or three
ingenuous, docile maidens, and speed about London with them on a perspiring
intellectual pilgrimage, her satisfaction knew no bounds. It once happened that
two country cousins, good-humoured girls, eager to learn and to enjoy, came to
stay with the family at Westbourne Park. From the first day Linda took
possession of them, and did not flag in her zeal for their enlightenment until
both were so seriously affected in health by the life she led them that Mrs. Vassie had to interfere. At the British Museum, at the
National Gallery, she poured forth an inexhaustible stream of commonplaces and
inaccuracies; when her hapless companions were all but fainting, the terrible
cicerone pushed on from room to room. Linda always lost her disciples by mere
excess of energy. Girls grew afraid of her, and at length fled before the sound
of her voice.
She belonged
to a great many societies, received dozens of reports, proceedings,
prospectuses, and the like. Her talk at home was often unintelligible to her
hearers owing to her habit of mentioning societies by initials instead of the
full name. 'My dear girls, how can I go with you when I have a meeting
at the S.R.T.M.?' 'Next week I shall be fearfully busy. There's the A.L.P.Q.,
and the S.R.D.B., and ---- Oh! do let me make a note
of a letter I have to write to the secretary of the L.Q.C.E.W.!' These
alphabetical designations rolled off her tongue with astounding volubility.
Her desire to
form intimacies with people of name sometimes led her into an unpleasant
situation. Civil coldness did not discourage her, and to the hints which would
have rebuffed a sensitive woman she was, happily, obtuse. But on one occasion
accident gave her something more than a hint to abstain from assiduities in a
certain quarter. A lady with a mission, an advocate of 'womanhood,' after
Linda's own heart, had allowed herself to be drawn into correspondence, and at
length invited Miss Vassie to call upon her. For some
weeks Linda boasted of the acquaintance. Then came a letter addressed in the
well-known hand, and Linda opened it with eagerness. To her surprise it began,
'My dear Miss Jones.' Here was a mistake. The lady with a mission, no less busy
than Linda herself, had in her haste misdirected the envelope. But it did not
occur to Linda to fold the sheet without reading its contents, and her
curiosity had its reward.
'MY DEAR MISS
JONES, -- I should have written to you yesterday, but just as I sat down I was
worried by a call from I most trying and wearisome person, who talked and
talked for more than an hour about her own silly, half-educated ideas. Do
beware of her if she writes to you; it is a Miss Vassie
of Westbourne Park -- oh, a dreadful person! She seems to write to everybody. I
think it a duty to warn my friends, and somehow I shall have to get rid of
her.'
Then followed
matter of no particular interest. Linda, hot and trembling, presently
asked herself whether this was a mistake. She sent back the letter
without a word, and never again heard from that distinguished lady -- of whom,
when she spoke at all, she spoke with an exceeding bitterness which no one
could understand.
(Provided by Mitsuharu Matsuoka, Nagoya University, Japan,
on 6 December 1997.)