Home: Leila Rosen—English Teacher and Aesthetic Realism Associate

 

Sue is determined to find some way to have Johnsy give up her desire to die, and talks to their neighbor, Mr. Behrman—who, “regarded himself as especial mastiff-in-waiting to protect the two young artists.” He was, the author says, “a failure in art....He drank gin to excess, and still talked of his coming masterpiece,” though he hadn’t painted a single stroke on it in 25 years. When Sue tells him of Johnsy’s situation, he “shouted his contempt and derision for such idiotic imaginings.”

“Vass!....Is dere people in de world mit der foolishness to die because leafs dey drop off from a confounded vine?   Vy . . do you allow dot silly pusiness to come in der brain of her? Ach, dot poor leetle Miss Yohnsy.”

 

"She is very ill and weak," said Sue, "and the fever has left her mind morbid and full of strange fancies.”  Mr. Behrman is intent on trying to help:  “Go on, I come mit you....Some day I vill baint a masterpiece, and ve shall all go away. Gott! yes.”

            Sue shows Behrman the fateful ivy vine. “They looked at each other for a moment without speaking. A persistent, cold rain was falling, mingled with snow.” Sure that the rain would strip the last leaves from the vine, Sue pulls down the shade to prevent Johnsy from looking out the window—but to no avail. The next morning, Johnsy, insists Sue raise the shade.

But, lo! after the beating rain and fierce gusts of wind that had endured through the livelong night, there yet stood out against the brick wall one ivy leaf....Still dark green near its stem, but with its serrated edges tinted with the yellow of dissolution and decay, it hung bravely from a branch some twenty feet above the ground.

“It is the last one,” said Johnsy. “I thought it would surely fall during the night...It will fall today, and I shall die at the same time.”

 

I see this story, and Johnsy’s determination to make these leaves stand for herself and her own certain death, as symbolic.  Aesthetic Realism explains: we punish ourselves when we want to put aside the world, represented here by this ivy vine.  These leaves put together reality’s opposites: delicacy and strength, fixity and motion, bright and dark. Had Johnsy wanted to get rid of that world—and is she now punishing herself for this? From O. Henry’s description, I think this is what is happening.

Another day and another stormy night pass and, the author writes,  “Johnsy, the merciless, commanded that the shade be raised.” But despite her terrible determination, the leaf is still there. As she sees this little ivy leaf, which has endured so much, yet persists, she takes it as some criticism of herself. "I've been a bad girl, Sudie," she said.

“Something has made that last leaf stay there to show me how wicked I was. It is a sin to want to die.”...Later she said: “...Some day I hope to paint the Bay of Naples.”

 

Johnsy’s hope to like the world is winning out; she wants to live. The doctor is encouraging, but says he must see another pneumonia patient downstairs. It is Mr. Behrman. He says, “The attack is acute. There is no hope for him; but he goes to the hospital to-day to be made more comfortable.”

            Johnsy grows stronger. The story ends, with large feeling, along with the kind of ironic twist O. Henry is known for. Sue sadly tells her friend of Mr. Behrman’s death:

“He was ill only two days. The janitor found him...helpless with pain. His shoes and clothing were wet through and icy cold. They couldn't imagine where he had been on such a dreadful night....Then they found a lantern, still lighted, and a ladder..., and some scattered brushes, and a palette with green and yellow colors mixed on it, and—look out the window, dear, at the last ivy leaf on the wall. Didn't you wonder why it never fluttered or moved when the wind blew? Ah, darling, it's Behrman's masterpiece. He painted it there the night that the last leaf fell.”

 

Though this has sorrow, Mr. Behrman’s masterpiece, a tiny leaf painted on a wall, arose from the most beautiful form of determination, good will, which was the same as his greatest self-expression.

            Women today can learn from Aesthetic Realism to have this proud determination—and it is my fervent hope that they do!

 

 

 

 

 

 

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