On Innocents and Innocence Lost


By CYNTHIA OZICK
Mrs. Leicester's School

By Mary Lamb (1809)

It was long, long ago that I happened to draw from a bulging third-grade
Thanksgiving grab-bag an entrancingly illustrated collection of stories
about little English girls exiled to boarding school. Ostensibly a book
for children, "Mrs. Leicester's School" had a kind of mythic weight, and
at least one of its tales, "The Changeling," was so heartlessly piercing
that, like some legendary metamorphosis, it chilled me for life; I feel
its coldness even now. An envious nurse secretly switches babies:—her
own daughter will be lovingly reared in a mansion, while the child of
nobility, the true daughter of Sir Edward and Lady Harriot Lesley, must
humbly endure the other girl's condescension. But unrelenting class
rigidity is merely the carapace of this fabled ruse. After some years
the plot is uncovered, clumsily, by the falsely aristocratic child, and
each is restored to her rightful parents. For the fallen daughter more
than pride of place has been pricked; the most elemental self is
subverted and eviscerated. The lie that wounds children is the most
chilling of all. "Mrs. Leicester's School," Coleridge wrote, "should be
acknowledged as a rich jewel in the treasure of our permanent English
literature."


------------------------------------------------------
Other People's Houses

By Lore Segal (1964)


Graham Greene

This prodigiously perceptive memoir in the form of a novel turns out to
be still another changeling tale, though here it is deadly force that
casts the child out of her proper milieu. The cherished daughter of
cultivated parents (banker father, musically gifted mother) is made to
flee Nazi-infested Vienna via the Kindertransport, a charitable program
to bring young Jewish refugees to England, where they will be entrusted
to the care of strangers. Ten-year-old Lore, introspective and
vulnerable, is sent to live with a series of well-intentioned persons of
inferior culture who nevertheless appear to the child to possess
unanswerable worldly power. Once confident of unstinting familial love,
she is transmuted overnight into a cautious, anxious and deferential
watcher of alien mores and motives; she judges, understands, sees. She
is already the writer she will inexorably become.


------------------------------------------------------
What Maisie Knew

By Henry James (1897)

'It made her wonder more sharply what she could do or not do, what
particular word she should speak or not speak, what particular line she
could take or not take, that might for everyone . . . give a better turn
to the crisis." This mazy thinking is Maisie's; a preternaturally
observant young child of divorce, she wields her "little instinct of
keeping the peace" in a labyrinth of adults and their shifting
allegiances, brutal hatreds and hidden adulteries. Surrounded, even
ambushed, by selfishness, but she is too ingenuous to see how cruelly
she is its hostage. The clues—contradictory hostile signals—are there
but uncertain and opaque. Of all James's innocents, Maisie is the most
manipulated and the most unsullied. Appraising James's own acutely
intuitive childhood, Leon Edel, his eminent biographer, said of Maisie:
"In reality, she is a study of himself."


------------------------------------------------------
A Lost Lady

By Willa Cather (1923)

Niel Herbert is a small boy when he first falls under the spell of the
young wife of Captain Forrester, a pioneer railroad builder and the
town's most respected figure. Mrs. Forrester is an enchantress: Her fine
house with its unspoiled acreage, the fashionable brilliance of her
dress, the uncommon charm of her "many-colored laugh," her lively
engagement with everyone she encounters—all this enthralls Niel well
into his 20s. Even as he sees her aging and widowed, even as he
discovers her unsavory liaison with a dishonest local ruffian, he
remains captivated. Years will pass before the boy's faithful awe will
give way to the man's bitter disillusionment. But Willa Cather knows
that the heart is a perplexing mixture of beauty and pain and that early
adoration betrayed can sometimes end in a kind of forgiveness or,
failing that, in bewildered and undying sympathy.


------------------------------------------------------
The Heart of the Matter

By Graham Greene (1948)

In the heart of this novel of war, smuggling, spying and illicit love, a
ship carrying civilians is broken up at sea. After 40 days in open
boats, the survivors are brought to an African colony presided over by
British officialdom and a handful of humorless Catholic missionaries.
Among the ailing passengers are young Mrs. Rolt, freshly widowed by her
husband's drowning, and a boy suffering from fever. Maj. Henry Scobie, a
police officer, is called on to read aloud to the child from the
mission's collection of dry-as-dust pious uplift. In a rush of
spontaneous invention and moral ingenuity, Scobie transforms "A Bishop
Among the Bantus" into a suitably violent pirate yarn. But soon his
fabrications accelerate: from the lie that comforts to the lie that
deceives. In an excess of pity and love—moved to desire by the pathos
of Mrs. Rolt, steeped in tenderness for his unsuspecting wife—Scobie
plummets ever deeper into guilt-haunted sin. Yet if too much loving
compassion makes a sinner, then how do we recognize an innocent?
—Ms. Ozick's latest book, the novel "Foreign Bodies," has just been
published by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt.