the world i live in-海伦·凯勒自传(英文版)-第7节

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the　places　we　pass。　Sometimes；　when　there　is　no　wind；　the　odours　are　so
grouped　that　I　know　the　character　of　the　country；　and　can　place　a
hayfield；　a　country　store；　a　garden；　a　barn；　a　grove　of　pines；　a
farmhouse　with　the　windows　open。

The　other　day　I　went　to　walk　toward　a　familiar　wood。　Suddenly　a
disturbing　odour　made　me　pause　in　dismay。　Then　followed　a　peculiar；
measured　jar；　followed　by　dull；　heavy　thunder。　I　understood　the　odour
and　the　jar　only　too　well。　The　trees　were　being　cut　down。　We　climbed　the
stone　wall　to　the　left。　It　borders　the　wood　which　I　have　loved　so　long
that　it　seems　to　be　my　peculiar　possession。　But　to…day　an　unfamiliar
rush　of　air　and　an　unwonted　outburst　of　sun　told　me　that　my　tree　friends
were　gone。　The　place　was　empty；　like　a　deserted　dwelling。　I　stretched
out　my　hand。　Where　once　stood　the　steadfast　pines；　great；　beautiful；
sweet；　my　hand　touched　raw；　moist　stumps。　All　about　lay　broken　branches；
like　the　antlers　of　stricken　deer。　The　fragrant；　piled…up　sawdust
swirled　and　tumbled　about　me。　An　unreasoning　resentment　flashed　through
me　at　this　ruthless　destruction　of　the　beauty　that　I　love。　But　there　is
no　anger；　no　resentment　in　nature。　The　air　is　equally　charged　with　the
odours　of　life　and　of　destruction；　for　death　equally　with　growth　forever
ministers　to　all…conquering　life。　The　sun　shines　as　ever；　and　the　winds
riot　through　the　newly　opened　spaces。　I　know　that　a　new　forest　will
spring　where　the　old　one　stood；　as　beautiful；　as　beneficent。

Touch　sensations　are　permanent　and　definite。　Odours　deviate　and　are
fugitive；　changing　in　their　shades；　degrees；　and　location。　There　is
something　else　in　odour　which　gives　me　a　sense　of　distance。　I　should
call　it　horizon……the　line　where　odour　and　fancy　meet　at　the　farthest
limit　of　scent。

Smell　gives　me　more　idea　than　touch　or　taste　of　the　manner　in　which
sight　and　hearing　probably　discharge　their　functions。　Touch　seems　to
reside　in　the　object　touched；　because　there　is　a　contact　of　surfaces。　In
smell　there　is　no　notion　of　relievo；　and　odour　seems　to　reside　not　in
the　object　smelt；　but　in　the　organ。　Since　I　smell　a　tree　at　a　distance；
it　is　prehensible　to　me　that　a　person　sees　it　without　touching　it。　I
am　not　puzzled　over　the　fact　that　he　receives　it　as　an　image　on　his
retina　without　relievo；　since　my　smell　perceives　the　tree　as　a　thin
sphere　with　no　fullness　or　content。　By　themselves；　odours　suggest
nothing。　I　must　learn　by　association　to　judge　from　them　of　distance；　of
place；　and　of　the　actions　or　the　surroundings　which　are　the　usual
occasions　for　them；　just　as　I　am　told　people　judge　from　colour；　light；
and　sound。

From　exhalations　I　learn　much　about　people。　I　often　know　the　work　they
are　engaged　in。　The　odours　of　wood；　iron；　paint；　and　drugs　cling　to　the
garments　of　those　that　work　in　them。　Thus　I　can　distinguish　the
carpenter　from　the　ironworker；　the　artist　from　the　mason　or　the　chemist。
　one　place　to　another　I　get　a　scent
impression　of　where　he　has　been……the　kitchen；　the　garden；　or　the
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　perfect