《the world i live in-海伦·凯勒自传(英文版)》海伦·凯勒自传(英文版)-第3章

decrees　reality　out　of　chaos。
Without　imagination　what　a　poor　thing　my　world　would　be！　My　garden　would
be　a　silent　patch　of　earth　strewn　with　sticks　of　a　variety　of　shapes　and
smells。　But　when　the　eye　of　my　mind　is　opened　to　its　beauty；　the　bare
ground　brightens　beneath　my　feet；　and　the　hedge…row　bursts　into　leaf；
and　the　rose…tree　shakes　its　fragrance　everywhere。　I　know　how　budding
trees　look；　and　I　enter　into　the　amorous　joy　of　the　mating　birds；　and
this　is　the　miracle　of　imagination。
Twofold　is　the　miracle　when；　through　my　fingers；　my　imagination　reaches
forth　and　meets　the　imagination　of　an　artist　which　he　has　embodied　in　a
sculptured　form。　Although；　pared　with　the　life…warm；　mobile　face　of　a
friend；　the　marble　is　cold　and　pulseless　and　unresponsive；　yet　it　is
beautiful　to　my　hand。　Its　flowing　curves　and　bendings　are　a　real
pleasure；　only　breath　is　wanting；　but　under　the　spell　of　the　imagination
the　marble　thrills　and　bees　the　divine　reality　of　the　ideal。
Imagination　puts　a　sentiment　into　every　line　and　curve；　and　the　statue
in　my　touch　is　indeed　the　goddess　herself　who　breathes　and　moves　and
enchants。
It　is　true；　however；　that　some　sculptures；　even　recognized　masterpieces；
do　not　please　my　hand。　When　I　touch　what　there　is　of　the　Winged　Victory；
it　reminds　me　at　first　of　a　headless；　limbless　dream　that　flies　towards
me　in　an　unrestful　sleep。　The　garments　of　the　Victory　thrust　stiffly　out
behind；　and　do　not　resemble　garments　that　I　have　felt　flying；
fluttering；　folding；　spreading　in　the　wind。　But　imagination　fulfils
these　imperfections；　and　straightway　the　Victory　bees　a　powerful　and
spirited　figure　with　the　sweep　of　sea…winds　in　her　robes　and　the
splendour　of　conquest　in　her　wings。
I　find　in　a　beautiful　statue　perfection　of　bodily　form；　the　qualities　of
balance　and　pleteness。　The　Minerva；　hung　with　a　web　of　poetical
allusion；　gives　me　a　sense　of　exhilaration　that　is　almost　physical；　and
I　like　the　luxuriant；　wavy　hair　of　Bacchus　and　Apollo；　and　the　wreath　of
ivy；　so　suggestive　of　pagan　holidays。
So　imagination　crowns　the　experience　of　my　hands。　And　they　learned　their
cunning　from　the　wise　hand　of　another；　which；　itself　guided　by
imagination；　led　me　safely　in　paths　that　I　knew　not；　made　darkness　light
before　me；　and　made　crooked　ways　straight。
THE　HANDS　OF　OTHERS
II
THE　HANDS　OF　OTHERS
THE　warmth　and　protectiveness　of　the　hand　are　most　homefelt　to　me　who
have　always　looked　to　it　for　aid　and　joy。　I　understand　perfectly　how　the
Psalmist　can　lift　up　his　voice　with　strength　and　gladness；　singing；　〃I
put　my　trust　in　the　Lord　at　all　times；　and　his　hand　shall　uphold　me；　and
I　shall　dwell　in　safety。〃　In　the　strength　of　the　human　hand；　too；　there
is　something　divine。　I　am　told　that　the　glance　of　a　beloved　eye　thrills
one　from　a　distance；　but　there　is　no　distance　in　the　touch　of　a　beloved
hand。　Even　the　letters　I　receive　are……
Kind　letters　that　betray　the　heart"s　deep　history；
In　which　we　feel　the　presence　of　a　hand。
It　is　interesting　to　observe　the　differences　in　the　hands　of　people。
They　show　all　kinds　of　vitality；　energy；　stillness；　and　cordiality。　I
never　realized　how　living　the　hand　is　until　I　saw　those　chill　plaster
images　in　Mr。　Hutton"s　collection　of　casts。　The　hand　I　know　in　life　has
the　fullness　of　blood　in　its　veins；　and　is　elastic　with　spirit。　How
different　dear　Mr。　Hutton"s　hand　was　from　its　dull；　insensate　image！　To
me　the　cast　lacks　the　very　form　of　the　hand。　Of　the　many　casts　in　Mr。
Hutton"s　collection　I　did　not　recognize　any；　not　even　my　own。　But　a
loving　hand　I　never　forget。　I　remember　in　my　fingers　the　large　hands　of
Bishop　Brooks；　brimful　of　tenderness　and　a　strong　man"s　joy。　If　you　were
deaf　and　blind；　and　could　have　held　Mr。　Jefferson"s　hand；　you　would　have
seen　in　it　a　face　and　heard　a　kind　voice　unlike　any　other　you　have
known。　Mark　Twain"s　hand　is　full　of　whimsies　and　the　drollest　humours；
and　while　you　hold　it　the　drollery　changes　to　sympathy　and　championship。
＇Illustration：　Copyright；　1907；　by　the　Whitman　Studio
The　Medallion
The　bas…relief　on　the　wall　is　a　portrait　of　the　Queen　Dowager　of　Spain；
which　Her　Majesty　had　made　for　Miss　Keller
To　face　page　22＇
I　am　told　that　the　words　I　have　just　written　do　not　〃describe〃　the　hands
of　my　friends；　but　merely　endow　them　with　the　kindly　human　qualities
which　I　know　they　possess；　and　which　language　conveys　in　abstract　words。
The　criticism　implies　that　I　am　not　giving　the　primary　truth　of　what　I
feel；　but　how　otherwise　do　descriptions　in　books　I　read；　written　by　men
who　can　see；　render　the　visible　look　of　a　face？　I　read　that　a　face　is
strong；　gentle；　that　it　is　full　of　patience；　of　intellect；　that　it　is
fine；　sweet；　noble；　beautiful。　Have　I　not　the　same　right　to　use　these
words　in　describing　what　I　feel　as　you　have　in　describing　what　you　see？
They　express　truly　what　I　feel　in　the　hand。　I　am　seldom　conscious　of
physical　qualities；　and　I　do　not　remember　whether　the　fingers　of　a　hand
are　short　or　long；　or　the　skin　is　moist　or　dry。　No　more　can　you；　without
conscious　effort；　recall　the　details　of　a　face；　even　when　you　have　seen
it　many　times。　If　you　do　recall　the　features；　and　say　that　an　eye　is
blue；　a　chin　sharp；　a　nose　short；　or　a　cheek　sunken；　I　fancy　that　you　do
not　succeed　well　in　giving　the　impression　of　the　person；……not　so　well
as　when　you　interpret　at　once　to　the　heart　the　essential　moral　qualities
of　the　face……its　humour；　gravity；　sadness；　spirituality。　If　I　should
tell　you　in　physical　terms　how　a　hand　feels；　you　would　be　no　wiser　for
my　account　than　a　blind　man　to　whom　you　describe　a　face　in　detail。
Remember　that　when　a　blind　man　recovers　his　sight；　he　does　not　recognize
the　monest　thing　that　has　been　familiar　to　his　touch；　the　dearest
face　intimate　to　his　fingers；　and　it　does　not　help　him　at　all　that
things　and　people　have　been　described　to　him　again　and　again。　So　you；
who　are　untrained　of　touch；　do　not　recognize　a　hand　by　the　grasp；　and
so；　too；　any　description　I　might　give　would　fail　to　make　you　acquainted
with　a　friendly　hand　which　my　fingers　have　often　folded　about；　and
which　my　affection　translate