THIS IS a story of a girl who was born with out arms, but by sheer courage and determination, and in spite of her distressing handicap, won international fame as an artist, and could accomplish with her toes more than thousands of girls with arms and hands.
It was by mere chance that this writer discovered this unusual, unique and remarkable girl.
On the 26th of March, 1937, a New York newspaper feature this girl as one who dressed and fed herself, combed her hair, threaded a needle, sewed, embroidered, painted, engraved jewelry, wrote shorthand, played a piano, conducted a flower shop, a gift shop, and in addition was an actress, authoress, public speaker, and holder of an A.B. degree from Louisiana State Normal College. [ed.Mary Belle de Vargas at work in her studio]
I suspected the story to be an exaggeration. If such a girl really existed, surely the post office in the town would be able to locate her. Therefore, I addressed the following letter to Miss Mary Belle de Vargas, Natchitoches, La.:
“Dear Miss de Vargas: “Do you really exist? I am skeptical. Were you actually born armless? Can you write, paint, draw and sew with your toes? If you actually exist, will you send me a sample of your penmanship?”
In a few days, I received the following card:
“Yes, I really exist, ‘Believe It Or Not,’ and here is the evidence. This is a sample of my penmanship—I would like to correspond with you.”
My next letter to her was long. I soon learned that she had received mail from nearly all the States in the Union, and many foreign places—baskets of letters and cards, and could not answer but a fraction of them.
At once we began a constant exchange of letters. A warm and cordial friendship grew apace. I learned the story of her life, her childhood and development into girlhood, her dreams and heart-throbs, her struggle against the darts and stings of adversity—“Whether ‘tis nobler in mind,” as Shakespeare says, “to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and, by opposing, end them.”
She wrote to me with eloquent frankness, often revealing certain intuitive forces and inner strivings which, apparently, her most intimate acquaintances could scarcely understand.
It was the subtle, intangible essence of selfhood which directs and often forces certain individuals to create a world of their own, wherein they live and love, rise and fall, ache and agonize, suffer and sacrifice, and weave destinies out of the webs of sighs and sorrows, hopes and tears, mystic shadows and rose-tinted dreams.
Few could understand the tragic interplay of the forces astir in this girl’s mind and heart. Pathos never reached a more heart-touching degree than her own designation of herself as the “Ugly Duckling,” as result of being slighted by someone whom she regarded as a friend.
I promptly reproved her for disparaging herself, and sent the following letter:
“In the realm of the intellect and culture, there is only one standard of beauty—‘Beauty is as beauty does.’ Talent is always transcendent. Character is always beautiful. Every intelligent, clean, ladylike, refined, modest, and good-natured girl is beautiful. Only that which is rude, unclean, unladylike and indecent is ugly.
“There can be no ugliness in those who consort with beauty; whose hearts abound with fellowship; whose personalities are clothed in sweetness; whose ideals are luminous as a virgin’s smile; whose thoughts are flaming themes and whose loves are destinies. These are the choice souls of earth who dignify life; who refine its crudities, and clothe the debris and sordidness in mantles of sweetness and light.”
Then I quoted at length from Schopenhauer: “What a man is in himself, what accompanies him when alone, what no man can take away, or give him, is obviously more essential to him than everything he has in the form of possessions, or even what he is in the eyes of the world.
“An intellectual man in complete solitude has excellent entertainment in his own thoughts and fancies, while no amount of diversity or social pleasure or amusements can ward off the boredom of the dullard.
“A good, temperate, gentle character can be happy in needy circumstances, while a covetous, envious and malicious man, even if he is the richest in the world, goes miserable.
“To one who has the constant delight of a special individuality with a high degree of intellect, most of the pleasures which are run after by mankind are simply superfluous; they are even a trouble and a burden.
“When Socrates saw various articles of luxury spread out before him, he exclaimed: ‘How much there is in the world I do not want.’
“The first essential element in our life’s happiness is what we are—our personality.
“So-called good society recognizes every kind of claim but that of intellect, which is a contraband article; and people are expected to exhibit and unlimited amount of patience toward every form of folly and stupidity, perversity and dullness; while personal merit has to beg pardon, as it were, for being present, or else conceal itself altogether. Intellectual superiority offends by its very existence without any desire to do so.
“The more a man has within himself, the less he will want from other people. The fool in fine raiment groans under the burden of his miserable personality, while the man of talent peoples the waste places with his animating thoughts.”
In “Biology for Everybody” by J. Arthur Thomson, beauty is scientifically defined as follows: “Beauty is that quality which excites in us the aesthetic emotion; it is the expression and hallmark of a harmonious and well-ordered way of living.”
Nothing is written there about “looks,” face or figure, hair or eyes, nothing about “make-up,” or style of clothes, nothing about hands or legs. It is a quality which logically expresses itself in every harmonious and well-ordered life.
The genuinely beautiful girl does not know it, because she radiates her feminine sweetness unconsciously, like a flower exhaling its aroma.
In the drama, “King Henry V,” by Shakespeare, the King says to Katharine:
“A speaker is but a prater, a rhyme is but a ballad, a good leg will fall, a straight back will stoop; a black beard will turn white, a curled pate will grow bald; a fair face will wither; a full eye will wax hollow; but a good heart is the sun and the moon; or rather the sun and not the moon; for it shines bright and never changes, but keeps his course truly.”
"She who possesses the beauty of culture and kindness; whose heart is attuned to those qualities which give elation and inspiration to others; whose life is a symphony of those attributes which make a girl a worthy object of love and respect, is indeed “A thing of beauty and a joy forever.”
Mary Belle never referred to herself in disparaging terms again.
Before she died, she asked me to write the story of her life. This biography is an attempt to fulfill the promise I made her. It is not complete for two reasons: First, the publication of a book is an expensive undertaking. Consideration must be given to the amount of material. A complete story of all her activities, accomplishments and interests would require a thick volume.
Second: I have not had access to her Scrap-books, diaries and notebooks. This biography has been woven out of the jottings gleaned from her letters and notes and accounts sent me by her friends and acquaintances. Therefore, much has been unavoidably omitted; but it is better to give an incomplete story of this remarkable and talented girl than to leave her name unsung.
A tiny mold of human life may be the dynamo of vital fire, of unknown potentialities, of surging impulses and sublime incentives for action.
A frail shell of a human body may infold a superman, or superwoman.
From this nucleus many tendrils of thought may radiate to search the arena of existence. There are urges and stirrings charged with the will to do; the desire to achieve, the motive to go forward.
The resolute, high-poised individual chooses the high seas of thought, the tempest of action rather than the dull calm of selfish security and indolent ease.
The turbulent tossing of the waves, moves such a person forward, and ambitions blossom into achievement.
One spark of thought may be the source from which a world-wide movement may spring; the flutter of a bird’s wing may set in motion a whirlwind; the scratch of a pen, or stroke of a paint brush may unlock the doors and set free the unfoldment of immense possibilities.
“See how far a little candle throws its beam— O brave, new world that has such people in it”
In the Introduction to the Hawaiian-American novel, “From HAWAII TO HEAVEN” by this writer, he has written what may be appropriate to restate:
“Those who dream and give humanity the beauty and grandeur of their dreams, are earth’s real sovereigns even though they never wear a crown. Beauty is their consort; they assist in pointing the way to the Kingdom of Culture, and thereby help sweeten the earth.”
THE AUTHOR—1948 Sea View Hospital Staten Island, New York
