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 monopolized5; 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 supreme6. 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[5] 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 comings and goings turn on the hand as on a pivot7. It is the hand that binds8 me to the world of men and women. The hand is my feeler with which I reach through isolation9 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 petals10 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 velvety12 touch of his nose—all these, and a thousand resultant combinations, 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, devoid13 of physical colour and sound; but without colour and sound it breathes and throbs14 with life. Every object is associated in my mind with tactual qualities which, combined in countless15 ways, give me a sense of power, of beauty, or of incongruity16: for with my hands I can feel the comic 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 tangible17. All palpable things are mobile or rigid18, 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 velvet11 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 bass19 is to a woman's voice when it is low. What I call beauty I find in certain combinations of all these qualities, and is largely derived20 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 symbolizes21 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 swerving22 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 drawn23 out endlessly. Eloquence24 to the touch resides not in straight lines, but in unstraight lines, or in many curved and straight lines together. They appear and disappear, are now deep, now shallow, now broken off or lengthened25 or swelling26. They rise and sink beneath my fingers, they are full of sudden starts and pauses, and their variety is inexhaustible and wonderful. So you see I am not shut out from the region of the beautiful, though my hand cannot perceive the brilliant colours in the sunset or on the mountain, or reach into the blue depths of the sky.
Physics tells me that I am well off in a world which, I am told, knows neither cold nor sound, but is made in terms of size, shape, and inherent qualities; for at least every object appears to my fingers standing27 solidly right side up, and is not an inverted28 image on the retina which, I understand, your brain is at infinite though unconscious labour to set back on its feet. A tangible object passes complete into my brain with the warmth of life upon it, and occupies the same place that it does in space; for, without egotism, the mind is as large as the universe. When I think of hills, I think of the upward strength I tread upon. When water is the object of my thought, I feel the cool shock of the plunge29 and the quick yielding of the waves that crisp and curl and ripple30 about my body. The pleasing changes of rough and smooth, pliant31 and rigid, curved and straight in the bark and branches of a tree give the truth to my hand. The immovable rock, with its juts32 and warped33 surface, bends beneath my fingers into all manner of grooves34 and hollows. The bulge35 of a watermelon and the puffed-up rotundities of squashes that sprout36, bud, and ripen37 in that strange garden planted somewhere behind my finger-tips are the ludicrous in my tactual memory and imagination. My fingers are tickled38 to delight by the soft ripple of a baby's laugh, and find amusement in the lusty crow of the barnyard autocrat39. Once I had a pet rooster that used to perch40 on my knee and stretch his neck and crow. A bird in my hand was then worth two in the—barnyard.
My fingers cannot, of course, get the impression of a large whole at a glance; but I feel the parts, and my mind puts them together. I move around my house, touching41 object after object in order, before I can form an idea of the entire house. In other people's houses I can touch only what is shown to me—the chief objects of interest, carvings42 on the wall, or a curious architectural feature, exhibited like the family album. Therefore a house with which I am not familiar has for me, at first, no general effect or harmony of detail. It is not a complete conception, but a collection of object-impressions which, as they come to me, are disconnected and isolated43. But my mind is full of associations, sensations, theories, and with them it constructs the house. The process reminds me of the building of Solomon's temple, where was neither saw, nor hammer, nor any tool heard while the stones were being laid one upon another. The silent worker is imagination which decrees reality out of chaos44.
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 fragrance45 everywhere. I know how budding trees look, and I enter into the amorous46 joy of the mating birds, and this is the miracle of imagination.
Twofold is the miracle when, through my fingers, my imagination reaches forth47 and meets the imagination of an artist which he has embodied48 in a sculptured form. Although, compared 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 becomes 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 enchants49.
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 becomes 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 completeness. The Minerva, hung with a web of poetical50 allusion51, gives me a sense of exhilaration that is almost physical; and I like the luxuriant, wavy52 hair of Bacchus and Apollo, and the wreath of ivy53, 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 crooked54 ways straight.
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1
revolved
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| v.（使）旋转( revolve的过去式和过去分词 )；细想 | |
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stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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solidified
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| （使）成为固体，（使）变硬，（使）变得坚固( solidify的过去式和过去分词 )； 使团结一致； 充实，巩固； 具体化 | |
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attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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5
monopolized
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| v.垄断( monopolize的过去式和过去分词 )；独占；专卖；专营 | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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pivot
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| v.在枢轴上转动；装枢轴，枢轴；adj.枢轴的 | |
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8
binds
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| v.约束( bind的第三人称单数 )；装订；捆绑；（用长布条）缠绕 | |
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isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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petals
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| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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velvety
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| adj. 像天鹅绒的, 轻软光滑的, 柔软的 | |
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13
devoid
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| adj.全无的，缺乏的 | |
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14
throbs
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| 体内的跳动( throb的名词复数 ) | |
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countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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incongruity
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| n.不协调，不一致 | |
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tangible
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| adj.有形的，可触摸的，确凿的，实际的 | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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bass
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| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
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derived
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| vi.起源；由来；衍生；导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
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21
symbolizes
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| v.象征，作为…的象征( symbolize的第三人称单数 ) | |
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swerving
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的现在分词 ) | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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lengthened
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| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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28
inverted
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| adj.反向的，倒转的v.使倒置，使反转( invert的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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29
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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30
ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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31
pliant
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| adj.顺从的；可弯曲的 | |
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juts
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| v.（使）突出( jut的第三人称单数 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
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33
warped
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| adj.反常的；乖戾的；（变）弯曲的；变形的v.弄弯，变歪( warp的过去式和过去分词 )；使（行为等）不合情理，使乖戾， | |
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34
grooves
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| n.沟( groove的名词复数 )；槽；老一套；（某种）音乐节奏v.沟( groove的第三人称单数 )；槽；老一套；（某种）音乐节奏 | |
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35
bulge
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| n.突出，膨胀，激增；vt.突出，膨胀 | |
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36
sprout
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| n.芽，萌芽；vt.使发芽，摘去芽；vi.长芽，抽条 | |
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37
ripen
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| vt.使成熟；vi.成熟 | |
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38
tickled
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| （使）发痒( tickle的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
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39
autocrat
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| n.独裁者；专横的人 | |
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40
perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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41
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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42
carvings
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| n.雕刻( carving的名词复数 )；雕刻术；雕刻品；雕刻物 | |
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43
isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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44
chaos
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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45
fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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46
amorous
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| adj.多情的；有关爱情的 | |
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47
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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48
embodied
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| v.表现( embody的过去式和过去分词 )；象征；包括；包含 | |
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49
enchants
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| 使欣喜，使心醉( enchant的第三人称单数 )； 用魔法迷惑 | |
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50
poetical
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| adj.似诗人的；诗一般的；韵文的；富有诗意的 | |
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51
allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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52
wavy
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| adj.有波浪的，多浪的，波浪状的，波动的，不稳定的 | |
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53
ivy
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| n.常青藤，常春藤 | |
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54
crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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