the world i live in-海伦·凯勒自传(英文版)-第1节
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Title： The World I Live In
Author： Helen Keller
* * * * *
TO
HENRY H。 ROGERS
MY DEAR FRIEND OF
MANY YEARS
PREFACE
The essays and the poem in this book appeared originally in the 〃Century
Magazine；〃 the essays under the titles 〃A Chat About the Hand；〃 〃Sense
and Sensibility；〃 and 〃My Dreams。〃 Mr。 Gilder suggested the articles；
and I thank him for his kind interest and encouragement。 But he must
also accept the responsibility which goes with my gratitude。 For it is
owing to his wish and that of other editors that I talk so much about
myself。
Every book is in a sense autobiographical。 But while other
self…recording creatures are permitted at least to seem to change the
subject； apparently nobody cares what I think of the tariff； the
conservation of our natural resources； or the conflicts which revolve
about the name of Dreyfus。 If I offer to reform the education system of
the world； my editorial friends say； 〃That is interesting。 But will you
please tell us what idea you had of goodness and beauty when you were
six years old？〃 First they ask me to tell the life of the child who is
mother to the woman。 Then they make me my own daughter and ask for an
account of grown…up sensations。 Finally I am requested to write about my
dreams； and thus I bee an anachronical grandmother； for it is the
special privilege of old age to relate dreams。 The editors are so kind
that they are no doubt right in thinking that nothing I have to say
about the affairs of the universe would be interesting。 But until they
give me opportunity to write about matters that are not…me； the world
must go on uninstructed and unreformed； and I can only do my best with
the one small subject upon which I am allowed to discourse。
In 〃The Chant of Darkness〃 I did not intend to set up as a poet。 I
thought I was writing prose； except for the magnificent passage from Job
which I was paraphrasing。 But this part seemed to my friends to separate
itself from the exposition； and I made it into a kind of poem。
H。 K。
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
PAGE
THE SEEING HAND 3
CHAPTER II
THE HANDS OF OTHERS 19
CHAPTER III
THE HAND OF THE RACE 33
CHAPTER IV
THE POWER OF TOUCH 45
CHAPTER V
THE FINER VIBRATIONS 63
CHAPTER VI
SMELL； THE FALLEN ANGEL 77
CHAPTER VII
RELATIVE VALUES OF THE SENSES 95
CHAPTER VIII
THE FIVE…SENSED WORLD 103
CHAPTER IX
INWARD VISIONS 115
CHAPTER X
ANALOGIES IN SENSE PERCEPTION 129
CHAPTER X
BEFORE THE SOUL DAWN 141
CHAPTER XII
THE LARGER SANCTIONS 153
CHAPTER XIII
THE DREAM WORLD 169
CHAPTER XIV
DREAMS AND REALITY 195
CHAPTER XV
A WAKING DREAM 209
A CHANT OF DARKNESS 229
ILLUSTRATIONS
HELEN KELLER IN HER STUDY _Frontispiece_
THE MEDALLION _Facing page_ 22
〃LISTENING〃 TO THE TREES 〃 〃 70
THE LITTLE BOY NEXT DOOR 〃 〃 120
THE SEEING HAND
I
THE SEEING HAND
I HAVE just touched my dog。 He was rolling on the grass； with pleasure
in every muscle and limb。 I wanted to catch a picture of him in my
fingers； and I touched him as lightly as I would cobwebs； but lo； his
fat body revolved； stiffened and solidified into an upright position；
and his tongue gave my hand a lick！ He pressed close to me； as if he
were fain to crowd himself into my hand。 He loved it with his tail； with
his paw； with his tongue。 If he could speak； I believe he would say with
me that paradise is attained by touch； for in touch is all love and
intelligence。
This small incident started me on a chat about hands； and if my chat is
fortunate I have to thank my dog…star。 In any case； it is pleasant to
have something to talk about that no one else has monopolized； it is
like making a new path in the trackless woods； blazing the trail where
no foot has pressed before。 I am glad to take you by the hand and lead
you along an untrodden way into a world where the hand is supreme。 But
at the very outset we encounter a difficulty。 You are so accustomed to
light； I fear you will stumble when I try to guide you through the land
of darkness and silence。 The blind are not supposed to be the best of
guides。 Still； though I cannot warrant not to lose you； I promise that
you shall not be led into fire or water； or fall into a deep pit。 If
you will follow me patiently； you will find that 〃there's a sound so
fine； nothing lives 'twixt it and silence；〃 and that there is more meant
in things than meets the eye。
My hand is to me what your hearing and sight together are to you。 In
large measure we travel the same highways； read the same books； speak
the same language； yet our experiences are different。 All my ings and
goings turn on the hand as on a pivot。 It is the hand that binds me to
the world of men and women。 The hand is my feeler with which I reach
through isolation and darkness and seize every pleasure； every activity
that my fingers encounter。 With the dropping of a little word from
another's hand into mine； a slight flutter of the fingers； began the
intelligence； the joy； the fullness of my life。 Like Job； I feel as if
a hand had made me； fashioned me together round about and moulded my
very soul。
In all my experiences and thoughts I am conscious of a hand。 Whatever
moves me； whatever thrills me； is as a hand that touches me in the dark；
and that touch is my reality。 You might as well say that a sight which
makes you glad； or a blow which brings the stinging tears to your eyes；
is unreal as to say that those impressions are unreal which I have
accumulated by means of touch。 The delicate tremble of a butterfly's
wings in my hand； the soft petals of violets curling in the cool folds
of their leaves or lifting sweetly out of the meadow…grass； the clear；
firm outline of face and limb； the smooth arch of a horse's neck and
the velvety touch of his nose……all these； and a thousand resultant
binations； which take shape in my mind； constitute my world。
Ideas make the world we live in； and impressions furnish ideas。 My world
is built of touch…sensations； devoid of physical colour and sound； but
without colour and sound it breathes and throbs with life。 Every object
is associated in my mind bined in
countless ways； give me a sense of power； of beauty； or of incongruity：
for with my hands I can feel the ic as well as the beautiful in the
outward appearance of things。 Remember that you； dependent on your
sight； do not realize how many things are tangible。 All palpable things
are mobile or rigid； solid or liquid； big or small； warm or cold； and
these qualities are variously modified。 The coolness of a water…lily
rounding into bloom is different from the coolness of an evening wind in
summer； and different again from the coolness of the rain that soaks
into the hearts of growing things and gives them life and body。 The
velvet of the rose is not that of a ripe peach or of a baby's dimpled
cheek。 The hardness of the rock is to the hardness of wood what a man's
deep bass is to a woman's voice when it is low。 What I call beauty I
find in certain binations of all these qualities； and is largely
derived from the flow of curved and straight lines which is over all
things。
〃What does the straight line mean to you？〃 I think you will ask。
It _means_ several things。 It symbolizes duty。 It seems to have the
quality of inexorableness that duty has。 When I have something to do
that must not be set aside； I feel as if I were going forward in a
straight line； bound to arrive somewhere； or go on forever without
swerving to the right or to the left。
That is what it means。 To escape this moralizing you should ask； 〃How
does the straight line feel？〃 It feels； as I suppose it looks；
straight……a dull thought drawn out endlessly。 Eloquence to the touch
resides not in straight lines； but in unstraight lines； or in ma
