the world i live in-海伦·凯勒自传(英文版)-第4部分

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sick…room。　I　gain　pleasurable　ideas　of　freshness　and　good　taste　from　the
odours　of　soap；　toilet　water；　clean　garments；　woollen　and　silk　stuffs；
and　gloves。

I　have　not；　indeed；　the　all…knowing　scent　of　the　hound　or　the　wild
animal。　None　but　the　halt　and　the　blind　need　fear　my　skill　in　pursuit；
for　there　are　other　things　besides　water；　stale　trails；　confusing　cross
tracks　to　put　me　at　fault。　Nevertheless；　human　odours　are　as　varied　and
capable　of　recognition　as　hands　and　faces。　The　dear　odours　of　those　I
love　are　so　definite；　so　unmistakable；　that　nothing　can　quite　obliterate
them。　If　many　years　should　elapse　before　I　saw　an　intimate　friend　again；
I　think　I　should　recognize　his　odour　instantly　in　the　heart　of　Africa；
as　promptly　as　would　my　brother　that　barks。

Once；　long　ago；　in　a　crowded　railway　station；　a　lady　kissed　me　as　she
hurried　by。　I　had　not　touched　even　her　dress。　But　she　left　a　scent　with
her　kiss　which　gave　me　a　glimpse　of　her。　The　years　are　many　since　she
kissed　me。　Yet　her　odour　is　fresh　in　my　memory。

It　is　difficult　to　put　into　words　the　thing　itself；　the　elusive
person…odour。　There　seems　to　be　no　adequate　vocabulary　of　smells；　and　I
must　fall　back　on　approximate　phrase　and　metaphor。

Some　people　have　a　vague；　unsubstantial　odour　that　floats　about；　mocking
every　effort　to　identify　it。　It　is　the　will…o'…the…wisp　of　my　olfactive
experience。　Sometimes　I　meet　one　who　lacks　a　distinctive　person…scent；
and　I　seldom　find　such　a　one　lively　or　entertaining。　On　the　other　hand；
one　who　has　a　pungent　odour　often　possesses　great　vitality；　energy；　and
vigour　of　mind。

Masculine　exhalations　are　as　a　rule　stronger；　more　vivid；　more　widely
differentiated　than　those　of　women。　In　the　odour　of　young　men　there　is
something　elemental；　as　of　fire；　storm；　and　salt　sea。　It　pulsates　with
buoyancy　and　desire。　It　suggests　all　things　strong　and　beautiful　and
joyous；　and　gives　me　a　sense　of　physical　happiness。　I　wonder　if　others
observe　that　all　infants　have　the　same　scent……pure；　simple；
undecipherable　as　their　dormant　personality。　It　is　not　until　the　age　of
six　or　seven　that　they　begin　to　have　perceptible　individual　odours。
These　develop　and　mature　along　with　their　mental　and　bodily　powers。

What　I　have　written　about　smell；　especially　person…smell；　will　perhaps
be　regarded　as　the　abnormal　sentiment　of　one　who　can　have　no　idea　of　the
〃world　of　reality　and　beauty　which　the　eye　perceives。〃　There　are　people
who　are　colour…blind；　people　who　are　tone…deaf。　Most　people　are
smell…blind…and…deaf。　We　should　not　condemn　a　musical　position　on　the
testimony　of　an　ear　which　cannot　distinguish　one　chord　from　another；　or
judge　a　picture　by　the　verdict　of　a　colour…blind　critic。　The　sensations
of　smell　which　cheer；　inform；　and　broaden　my　life　are　not　less　pleasant
merely　because　some　critic　who　treads　the　wide；　bright　pathway　of　the
eye　has　not　cultivated　his　olfactive　sense。　Without　the　shy；　fugitive；
often　unobserved　sensations　and　the　certainties　which　taste；　smell；　and
touch　give　me；　I　should　be　obliged　to　take　my　conception　of　the　universe
wholly　from　others。　I　should　lack　the　alchemy　by　which　I　now　infuse　into
my　world　light；　colour；　and　the　Protean　spark。　The　sensuous　reality
which　interthreads　and　supports　all　the　gropings　of　my　imagination　would
be　shattered。　The　solid　earth　would　melt　from　under　my　feet　and　disperse
itself　in　space。　The　objects　dear　to　my　hands　would　bee　formless；
dead　things；　and　I　should　walk　among　them　as　among　invisible　ghosts。




RELATIVE　VALUES　OF　THE　SENSES




VII

RELATIVE　VALUES　OF　THE　SENSES


I　WAS　once　without　the　sense　of　smell　and　taste　for　several　days。　It
seemed　incredible；　this　utter　detachment　from　odours；　to　breathe　the　air
in　and　observe　never　a　single　scent。　The　feeling　was　probably　similar；
though　less　in　degree；　to　that　of　one　who　first　loses　sight　and　cannot
but　expect　to　see　the　light　again　any　day；　any　minute。　I　knew　I　should
smell　again　some　time。　Still；　after　the　wonder　had　passed　off；　a
loneliness　crept　over　me　as　vast　as　the　air　whose　myriad　odours　I
missed。　The　multitudinous　subtle　delights　that　smell　makes　mine　became
for　a　time　wistful　memories。　When　I　recovered　the　lost　sense；　my　heart
bounded　with　gladness。　It　is　a　fine　dramatic　touch　that　Hans　Andersen
gives　to　the　story　of　Kay　and　Gerda　in　the　passage　about　flowers。　Kay；
whom　the　wicked　magician's　glass　has　blinded　to　human　love；　rushes　away
fiercely　from　home　when　he　discovers　that　the　roses　have　lost　their
sweetness。

The　loss　of　smell　for　a　few　days　gave　me　a　clearer　idea　than　I　had　ever
had　what　it　is　to　be　blinded　suddenly；　helplessly。　With　a　little　stretch
of　the　imagination　I　knew　then　what　it　must　be　when　the　great　curtain
shuts　out　suddenly　the　light　of　day；　the　stars；　and　the　firmament
itself。　I　see　the　blind　man's　eyes　strain　for　the　light；　as　he　fearfully
tries　to　walk　his　old　rounds；　until　the　unchanging　blank　that
everywhere　spreads　before　him　stamps　the　reality　of　the　dark　upon　his
consciousness。

My　temporary　loss　of　smell　proved　to　me；　too；　that　the　absence　of　a
sense　need　not　dull　the　mental　faculties　and　does　not　distort　one's　view
of　the　world；　and　so　I　reason　that　blindness　and　deafness　need　not
pervert　the　inner　order　of　the　intellect。　I　know　that　if　there　were　no
odours　for　me　I　should　still　possess　a　considerable　part　of　the　world。
Novelties　and　surprises　would　abound；　adventures　would　thicken　in　the
dark。

In　my　classification　of　the　senses；　smell　is　a　little　the　ear's
inferior；　and　touch　is　a　great　deal　the　eye's　superior。　I　find　that
great　artists　and　philosophers　agree　with　me　in　this。　Diderot　says：

　　　　　　　　　　Je　trouvais　que　de　tous　les　sens；　l'oeil　etait　le
　　　　　　　　　　plus　superficiel；　l'oreille；　le　plus　orgueilleux；
　　　　　　　　　　l'odorat；　le　plus　voluptueux；　le　gout；　le　plus
　　　　　　　　　　superstitieux　et　le　plus　inconstant；　le　toucher；
　　　　　　　　　　le　plus　profond　et　le　plus　philosophe。＇C＇

A　friend　whom　I　have　never　seen　sends　me　a　quotation　from　Symonds's
〃Renaissance　in　Italy〃：

　　　　　　　　　　Lorenzo　Ghiberti；　after　describing　a　piece　of
　　　　　　　　　　antique　sculpture　he　saw　in　Rome　adds；　〃To　express
　　　　　　　　　　the　perfection　of　learning；　mastery；　and　art
　　　　　　　　　　displayed　in　it　is　beyond　the　power　of　language。
　　　　　　　　　　Its　more　exquisite　beauties　could　not　be
　　　　　　　　　　discovered　by　the　sight；　but　only　by　the　touch　of
　　　　　　　　　　the　hand　passed　over　it。〃　Of　another　classic
　　　　　　　　　　marble　at　Padua　he　says；　〃This　statue；　when　the
　　　　　　　　　　Christian　faith　triumphed；　was　hidden　in　that
　　　　　　　　　　place　by　some　gentle　soul；　who；　seeing　it　so
　　　　　　　　　　perfect；　fashioned　with　art　so　wonderful；　and　with
　　　　　　　　　　such　power　of　genius；　and　being　moved　to　reverent
　　　　　　　　　　pity；　caused　a　sepulchre　of　bricks　to　be　built；
　　　　　　　　　　and　there　within　buried　the　statue；　and　covered　it
　　　　　　　　　　with　a　broad　slab　of　stone；　that　it　might　not　in
　　　　　　　　　　any　way　be　injured。　It　has　very　many　sweet
　　　　　　　　　　beauties　which　the　eyes　alone　can　prehend　not；
　　　　　　　　　　either　by　strong　or　tempered　light；　only　the　hand
　　　　　　　　　　by　touching　them　finds　them　out。〃

Hold　out　your　hands　to　feel　the　luxury　of　the　sunbeams。　Press　the　soft
blossoms　against　your　cheek；　and　finger　their　graces　of　form；　their
delicate　mutability　of　shape；　their　pliancy　and　freshness。　Expose　your
face　to　the　aerial　floods　that　sweep　the　heavens；　〃inhale　great　draughts
of　space；〃　wonder；　wonder　at　the　wind's　unwearied　activity。　Pile　note
on　note　the　infinite　music　that　flows　increasingly　to　your　soul　from　the
tactual　sonorities　of　a　thousand　branches　and　tumbling　waters。　How　can
the　world　be　shrivelled　when　this　most　profound；　emotional　sense；　touch；
is　faithful　to　its　service？　I　am　sure　that　if　a　fairy　bade　me　choose
between　the　sense　of　light　and　that　of　touch；　I　would　not　part　with　the
warm；　endearing　contact　of　human　hands　or　the　wealth　of　form；　the
nobility　and　fullness　that　press　into　my　palms。

FOOTNOTE：

＇C＇　I　found　that　of　the　senses；　the　eye　is　the　most　superficial；　the　ear
the　most　arrogant；　smell　the　most　voluptuous；　taste　the　most
superstitious　and　fickle；　touch　the　most　profound　and　the　most
philosophical。




THE　FIVE…SENSED　WORLD




VIII

THE　FIVE…SENSED　WORLD


THE　poets　have　taught　us　how　full　of　wonders　is　the　night；　and　the　night
of　blindness　has　its　wonders；　too。　The　only　lightless　dark　is　the　night
of　ignorance　and　insensibility。　We　differ；　blind　and　seeing；　one　from
another；　not　in　our　senses；　but　in　the　use　we　make　of　them；　in　the
imagination　and　courage　with　which　we　seek　wisdom　beyond　our　senses。

It　is　more　difficult　to　teach　ignorance　to　think　than　to　teach　an
intelligent　blind　man　to　see　the　grandeur　of　Niagara。　I　have　walked　with
people　whose　eyes　are　full　of　light；　but　who　see　nothing　in　wood；　sea；
or　sky；　nothing　in　city　streets；　nothing　in　books。　What　a　witless
masquerade　is　this　seeing！　It　were　better　far　to　sail　forever　in　the
night　of　blindness；　with　sense　and　feeling　and　mind；　than　to　be　thus
content　with　the　mere　act　of　seeing。　They　have　the　sunset；　the　morning
skies；　the　purple　of　distant　hills；　yet　their　souls　voyage　through　this
enchanted　world　with　a　barren　stare。

The　calamity　of　the　blind　is　immense；　irreparable。　But　it　does　not　take
away　our　share　of　the　things　that　count……service；　friendship；　humour；
imagination；　wisdom。　It　is　the　secret　inner　will　that　controls　one's
fate。　We　are　capable　of　willing　to　be　good；　of　loving　and　being　loved；
of　thinking　to　the　end　that　we　may　be　wiser。　We　possess　these
spirit…born　forces　equally　with　all　God's　children。　Therefore　we；　too；
see　the　lightnings　and　hear　the　thunders　of　Sinai。　We；　too；　march
through　the　wilderness　and　the　solitary　place　that　shall　be　glad　for　us；
and　as　we　pass；　God　maketh　the　desert　to　blossom　like　the　rose。　We；　too；
go　in　unto　the　Promised　Land　to　possess　the　treasures　of　the　spirit；　the
unseen　permanence　of　life　and　nature。

The　blind　man　of　spirit　faces　the　unknown　and　grapples　with　it；　and　what
else　does　the　world　of　seeing　men　do？　He　has　imagination；　sympathy；
humanity；　and　these　ineradicable　existences　pel　him　to　share　by　a
sort　of　proxy　in　a　sense　he　has　not。　When　he　meets　terms　of　colour；
light；　physiognomy；　he　guesses；　divines；　puzzles　out　their　meaning　by
analogies　drawn　from　the　senses　he　has。　I　naturally　tend　to　think；
reason；　draw　inferences　as　if　I　had　five　senses　instead　of　three。　This
tendency　is　beyond　my　control；　it　is　involuntary；　habitual；　instinctive。
I　cannot　pel　my　mind　to　say　〃I　feel〃　instead　of　〃I　see〃　or　〃I　hear。〃
The　word　〃feel〃　proves　on　examination　to　be　no　less　a　convention　than
〃see〃　and　〃hear〃　when　I　seek　for　words　accurately　to　describe　the
outward　things　that　affect　my　three　bodily　senses。　When　a　man　loses　a
leg；　his　brain　persists　in　impelling　him　to　use　what　he　has　not　and　yet
feels　to　be　there。　Can　it　be　that　the　brain　is　so　constituted　that　it
will　continue　the　activity　which　animates　the　sight　and　the　hearing；
after　the　eye　and　the　ear　have　been　destroyed？

It　might　seem　that　the　five　senses　would　work　intelligently　together
only　when　resident　in　the　same　body。　Yet　when　two　or　three　are　left
unaided；　they　reach　out　for　their　plements　in　another　body；　and　find
that　they　yoke　easily　with　the　borrowed　team。　When　my　hand　aches　from
overtouching；　I　find　relief　in　the　sight　of　another。　When　my　mind　lags；
wearied　with　the　strain　of　forcing　out　thoughts　about　dark；　musicless；
colourless；　detached　substance；　it　recovers　its　elasticity　as　soon　as　I
resort　to　the　powers　of　another　mind　which　mands　light；　harmony；
colour。　Now；　if　the　five　senses　will　not　remain　disassociated；　the　life
of　the　deaf…blind　cannot　be　severed　from　the　life　of　the　seeing；　hearing
race。

The　deaf…blind　person　may　be　plunged　and　replunged　like　Schiller's
diver　into　seas　of　the　unknown。　But；　unlike　the　doomed　hero；　he　returns
triumphant；　grasping　the　priceless　truth　that　his　mind　is　not　crippled；
not　limited　to　the　infirmity　of　his　senses。　The　world　of　the　eye　and　the
ear　bees　to　him　a　subject　of　fateful　interest。　He　seizes　every　word
of　sight　and　hearing　because　his　sensations　pel　it。　Light　and　colour；
of　which　he　has　no　tactual　evidence；　he　studies　fearlessly；　believing
that　all　humanly　knowable　truth　is　open　to　him。　He　is　in　a　position
similar　to　that　of　the　astronomer　who；　firm；　patient；　watches　a　star
night　after　night　for　many　years　and　feels　rewarded　if　he　discovers　a
single　fact　about　it。　The　man　deaf…blind　to　ordinary　outward　things；　and
the　man　deaf…blind　to　the　immeasurable　universe；　are　both　limited　by
time　and　space；　but　they　have　made　a　pact　to　wring　service　from　their
limitations。

The　bulk　of　the　world's　knowledge　is　an　imaginary　construction。　History
is　but　a　mode　of　imagining；　of　making　us　see　civilizations　that　no
longer　appear　upon　the　earth。　Some　of　the　most　significant　discoveries
in　modern　science　owe　their　origin　to　the　imagination　of　men　who　had
neither　accurate　knowledge　nor　exact　instruments　to　demonstrate　their
beliefs。　If　astronomy　had　not　kept　always　in　advance　of　the　telescope；
no　one　would　ever　have　thought　a　telescope　worth　making。　What　great
invention　has　not　existed　in　the　inventor's　mind　long　before　he　gave　it
tangible　shape？

A　more　splendid　example　of　imaginative　knowledge　is　the　unity　with　which
philosophers　start　their　study　of　the　world。　They　can　never　perceive　the
world　in　its　entire　reality。　Yet　their　imagination；　with　its　magnificent
allowance　for　error；　its　power　of　treating　uncertainty　as　negligible；
has　pointed　the　way　for　empirical　knowledge。

In　their　highest　creative　moments　the　great　poet；　the　great　musician
cease　to　use　the　crude　instruments　of　sight　and　hearing。　They　break　away
from　their　sense…moorings；　rise　on　strong；　pelling　wings　of　spirit
far　above　our　misty　hills　and　darkened　valleys　into　the　region　of　light；
music；　intellect。

What　eye　hath　seen　the　glories　of　the　New　Jerusalem？　What　ear　hath　heard
the　music　of　the　spheres；　the　steps　of　time；　the　strokes　of　chance；　the
blows　of　death？　Men　have　not　heard　with　their　physical　sense　the　tumult
of　sweet　voices　above　the　hills　of　Judea　nor　seen　the　heavenly　vision；
but　millions　have　listened　to　that　spiritual　message　through　many　ages。

Our　blindness　changes　not　a　whit　the　course　of　inner　realities。　Of　us　it
is　as　true　as　it　is　of　the　seeing　that　the　most　beautiful　world　is
always　entered　through　the　imagination。　If　you　wish　to　be　something　that
you　are　not；……something　fine；　noble；　good；……you　shut　your　eyes；　and　for
one　dreamy　moment　you　are　that　which　you　long　to　be。




INWARD　VISIONS




IX

INWARD　VISIONS


ACCORDING　to　all　art；　all　nature；　all　coherent　human　thought；　we　know
that　order；　proportion；　form；　are　essential　elements　of　beauty。　Now
order；　proportion；　and　form；　are　palpable　to　the　touch。　But　beauty　and
rhythm　are　deeper　than　sense。　They　are　like　love　and　faith。　They　spring
out　of　a　spiritual　process　only　slightly　dependent　upon　sensations。
Order；　proportion；　form；　cannot　generate　in　the　mind　the　abstract　idea
of　beauty；　unless　there　is　already　a　soul　intelligence　to　breathe　life
into　the　elements。　Many　persons；　having　perfect　eyes；　are　blind　in
their　perceptions。　Many　persons；　having　perfect　ears；　are　emotionally
deaf。　Yet　these　are　the　very　ones　who　dare　to　set　limits　to　the　vision
of　those　who；　lacking　a　sense　or　two；　have　will；　soul；　passion；
imagination。　Faith　is　a　mockery　if　it　teaches　us　not　that　we　may
construct　a　world　unspeakably　more　plete　and　beautiful　than　the
material　world。　And　I；　too；　may　construct　my　better　world；　for　I　am　a
child　of　God；　an　inheritor　of　a　fragment　of　the　Mind　that　created　all
worlds。

There　is　a　consonance　of　all　things；　a　blending　of　all　that　we　know
about　the　material　world　and　the　spiritual。　It　consists　for　me　of　all
the　impressions；　vibrations；　heat；　cold；　taste；　smell；　and　the
sensations　which　these　convey　to　the　mind；　infinitely　bined；
interwoven　with　associated　ideas　and　acquired　knowledge。　No　thoughtful
person　will　believe　that　what　I　said　about　the　meaning　of　footsteps　is
strictly　true　of　mere　jolts　and　jars。　It　is　an　array　of　the　spiritual　in
certain　natural　elements；　tactual　beats；　and　an　acquired　knowledge　of
physical　habits　and　moral　traits　of　highly　organized　human　beings。　What
would　odours　signify　if　they　were　not　associated　with　the　time　of　the
year；　the　place　I　live　in；　and　the　people　I　know？

The　result　of　such　a　blending　is　sometimes　a　discordant　trying　of
strings　far　removed　from　a　melody；　very　far　from　a　symphony。　（For　the
benefit　of　those　who　must　be　reassured；　I　will　say　that　I　have　felt　a
musician　tuning　his　violin；　that　I　have　read　about　a　symphony；　and　so
have　a　fair　intellectual　perception　of　my　metaphor。）　But　with　training
and　experience　the　faculties　gather　up　the　stray　notes　and　bine　them
into　a　full；　harmonious　whole。　If　the　person　who　acplishes　this　task
is　peculiarly　gifted；　we　call　him　a　poet。　The　blind　and　the　deaf　are　not
great　poets；　it　is　true。　Yet　now　and　again　you　find　one　deaf　and　blind
who　has　attained　to　his　royal　kingdom　of　beauty。

I　have　a　little　volume　of　poems　by　a　deaf…blind　lady；　Madame　Bertha
Galeron。　Her　poetry　has　versatility　of　thought。　Now　it　is　tender　and
sweet；　now　full　of　tragic　passion　and　the　sternness　of　destiny。　Victor
Hugo　called　her　〃La　Grande　Voyante。〃　She　has　written　several　plays；　two
of　which　have　been　acted　in　Paris。　The　French　Academy　has　crowned　her
work。

The　infinite　wonders　of　the　universe　are　revealed　to　us　in　exact　measure
as　we　are　capable　of　receiving　them。　The　keenness　of　our　vision　depends
not　on　how　much　we　can　see；　but　on　how　much　we　feel。　Nor　yet　does　mere
knowledge　create　beauty。　Nature　sings　her　most　exquisite　songs　to　those
who　love　her。　She　does　not　unfold　her　secrets　to　those　who　e　only　to
gratify　their　desire　of　analysis；　to　gather　facts；　but　to　those　who　see
in　her　manifold　phenomena　suggestions　of　lofty；　delicate　sentiments。

＇Illustration：　Copyright；　1907；　by　The　Whitman　Studio

The　Little　Boy　Next　Door

To　face　page　120＇

Am　I　to　be　denied　the　use　of　such　adjectives　as　〃freshness〃　and
〃sparkle；〃　〃dark〃　and　〃gloomy〃？　I　have　walked　in　the　fields　at　early
morning。　I　have　felt　a　rose…bush　laden　with　dew　and　fragrance。　I　have
felt　the　curves　and　graces　of　my　kitten　at　play。　I　have　known　the
sweet；　shy　ways　of　little　children。　I　have　known　the　sad　opposites　of
all　these；　a　ghastly　touch　picture。　Remember；　I　have　sometimes　travelled
over　a　dusty　road　as　far　as　my　feet　could　go。　At　a　sudden　turn　I　have
stepped　upon　starved；　ignoble　weeds；　and　reaching　out　my　hands；　I　have
touched　a　fair　tree　out　of　which　a　parasite　had　taken　the　life　like　a
vampire。　I　have　touched　a　pretty　bird　whose　soft　wings　hung　limp；　whose
little　heart　beat　no　more。　I　have　wept　over　the　feebleness　and　deformity
of　a　child；　lame；　or　born　blind；　or；　worse　still；　mindless。　If　I　had　the
genius　of　Thomson；　I；　too；　could　depict　a　〃City　of　Dreadful　Night〃　from
mere　touch　sensations。　From　contrasts　so　irreconcilable　can　we　fail　to
form　an　idea　of　beauty　and　know　surely　when　we　meet　with　loveliness？

Here　is　a　son　eloquent　of　a　blind　man's　power　of　vision：


　　　　　　　　　　　　　　THE　MOUNTAIN　TO　THE　PINE

　　　　　　　　　　Thou　tall；　majestic　monarch　of　the　wood；