第5章 重塑生命

THE most important day I remember in all my life is the one on which my teacher, Anne Mansfield Sullivan, came to me. I am filled with wonder when I consider the immeasurable contrasts between the two lives which it connects. It was the third of March, 1887, three months before I was seven years old.

On the afternoon of that eventful day, I stood on the porch, dumb, expectant. I guessed vaguely from my mother's signs and from the hurrying to and fro in the house that something unusual was about to happen, so I went to the door and waited on the steps. The afternoon sun penetrated the mass of honeysuckle that covered the porch, and fell on my upturned face. My fingers lingered almost unconsciously on the familiar leaves and blossoms which had just come forth to greet the sweet southern spring. I did not know what the future held of marvel or surprise for me. Anger and bitterness had preyed upon me continually for weeks and a deep languor had succeeded this passionate struggle.

Have you ever been at sea in a dense fog, when it seemed as if a tangible white darkness shut you in, and the great ship, tense and anxious, groped her way toward the shore with plummet and sounding-line, and you waited with beating heart for something to happen? I was like that ship before my education began, only I was without compass or sounding-line, and had no way of knowing how near the harbour was.“Light! Give me light!”was the wordless cry of my soul, and the light of love shone on me in that very hour.

I felt approaching footsteps. I stretched out my hand as I supposed to my mother. Some one took it, and I was caught up and held close in the arms of her who had come to reveal all things to me, and, more than all things else, to love me.

The morning after my teacher came she led me into her room and gave me a doll. The little blind children at the Perkins Institution had sent it and Laura Bridgman had dressed it; but I did not know this until afterward.

When I had played with it a little while, Miss Sullivan slowly spelled into my hand the word“d-o-l-l”. I was at once interested in this finger play and tried to imitate it. When I finally succeeded in making the letters correctly I was flushed with childish pleasure and pride. Running downstairs to my mother I held up my hand and made the letters for doll. I did not know that I was spelling a word or even that words existed; I was simply making my fingers go in monkey-like imitation. In the days that followed I learned to spell in this uncomprehending way a great many words, among them pin, hat, cup and a few verbs like sit, stand and walk. But my teacher had been with me several weeks before I understood that everything has a name.

One day, while I was playing with my new doll, Miss Sullivan put my big rag doll into my lap also, spelled“d-o-l-l”and tried to make me understand that“d-o-l-l”applied to both.

Earlier in the day we had had a tussle over the words“m-u-g”and“w-a-t-e-r”. Miss Sullivan had tried to impress it upon me that“m-u-g”is mug and that“w-a-t-e-r”is water, but I persisted in confounding the two. In despair she had dropped the subject for the time, only to renew it at the first opportunity. I became impatient at her repeated attempts and, seizing the new doll, I dashed it upon the floor. I was keenly delighted when I felt the fragments of the broken doll at my feet. Neither sorrow nor regret followed my passionate outburst. I had not loved the doll. In the still, dark world in which I lived there was no strong sentiment of tenderness. I felt my teacher sweep the fragments to one side of the hearth, and I had a sense of satisfaction that the cause of my discomfort was removed. She brought me my hat, and I knew I was going out into the warm sunshine. This thought, if a wordless sensation may be called a thought, made me hop and skip with pleasure.

We walked down the path to the well-house, attracted by the fragrance of the honeysuckle with which it was covered. Some one was drawing water and my teacher placed my hand under the spout. As the cool stream gushed over one hand she spelled into the other the word water, first slowly, then rapidly. I stood still, my whole attention fixed upon the motions of her fingers. Suddenly I felt a misty consciousness as of something forgotten-a thrill of returning thought; and somehow the mystery of language was revealed to me. I knew then that“w-a-t-e-r”meant the wonderful cool something that was flowing over my hand. That living word awakened my soul, gave it light, hope, joy, set it free! There were barriers still, it is true, but barriers that could in time be swept away.

I left the well-house eager to learn.Everything had a name, and each name gave birth to a new thought. As we returned to the house every object which I touched seemed to quiver with life. That was because I saw everything with the strange, new sight that had come to me. On entering the door I remembered the doll I had broken. I felt my way to the hearth and picked up the pieces. I tried vainly to put them together. Then my eyes filled with tears; for I realized what I had done, and for the first time I felt repentance and sorrow.

I learned a great many new words that day. I do not remember what they all were; but I do know that mother, father, sister, teacher were among them-words that were to make the world blossom for me,“like Aaron's rod, with flowers.”It would have been difficult to find a happier child than I was as. I lay in my crib at the close of the eventful day and lived over the joys it had brought me, and for the first time longed for a new day to come.

我人生中最重要的一天，是老师安妮·梅西费尔德·莎莉文来我家的这一天。回想此前此后两种全然不同的生活，我禁不住感慨万分。那是1887年3月3日，当时我7岁还差3个月。

在那个多事之天的下午，我默默地站在走廊上，期待着什么。从母亲的手势以及家人匆忙地来来往往的样子中，我猜想一定有什么不寻常的事将要发生，因此，我走到门口，站在台阶上等待着。下午的阳光穿过遮满阳台的金银花叶子，照射到我仰望着的脸上。我的手指几乎是无意识地搓捻着那些熟悉的花叶，抚弄着那些为迎接南方的春天而绽开的花朵。我还不知道未来会有什么奇迹发生。当时，我经历了好几个星期的极度愤怒和苦恼，已经疲倦不堪了。

朋友，你可曾在茫茫大雾的大海中航行过，被黑暗所笼罩，紧张地驾驶着一条大船，小心翼翼地缓慢地驶向对岸，而你的心怦怦直跳，唯恐发生意外？在没有接受教育之前，我就像在大雾中航行的那条大船，既没有指南针，也没有探深绳，不知道离海港有多近。“光明！光明！快给我光明！”我在心里无声地呼喊着。正在此时，爱的光明洒在了我身上。

我觉得有脚步朝我走来，我以为是母亲，立刻伸出双手。有个人握住了我的手，把我紧紧地搂抱在怀中。她是来向我揭示人间真理、给我深切关爱的，她就是我的老师——安妮·莎莉文。

第二天早晨，莎莉文老师把我带到她的房间，给了我一个洋娃娃。那是帕金斯盲人学校的学生赠送的，洋娃娃的衣服则是由劳拉·布里奇曼亲手缝制的，这些我是后来才知道的。

我玩了一会儿洋娃娃，莎莉文老师在我的手掌上慢慢地拼写“d-o-l-l”这个词，这个举动使我立刻对手指游戏产生了兴趣，并且模仿她写起来。当我终于能正确地拼写这个词时，我自豪极了，兴奋得脸都涨红了。我立即跑下楼去，找到母亲，拼写洋娃娃这个词的字母给她看。我当时并不知道这就是在写字，甚至也不知道世界上有文字这种东西存在；我仅仅是依葫芦画瓢地模仿莎莉文老师的动作而已。从此以后，我就通过这种并不很理解的方式，学会了拼写许多单词，例如“针”（pin）、“帽子”（hat）、“杯子”（cup），以及“坐”（sit）、“站”（stand）、“走”（walk）等动词。但是世间万物都有自己的名字，这是老师教了我几个星期以后，我才领悟到的。

一天，我正在玩我的新洋娃娃，莎莉文老师把我原来那个洋娃娃也拿来放在我膝上，然后在我手上拼写“d-o-l-l”，想让我明白“d-o-l-l”指的是两个洋娃娃。

这天上午，我们为“m-u-g”（杯子）和“w-a-t-e-r”（水）这两个词发生了争执。莎莉文老师拼命地想让我懂得“杯子”是“杯子”,“水”是“水”，而我却总是将二者弄混淆。绝望之际，她只好暂时放下这个问题，重新练习洋娃娃这个词。我对她一而再、再而三的重复实在有些不耐烦了，抓起新的洋娃娃朝地上一摔，就把它摔碎了。当我察觉到我脚边上的洋娃娃碎片时，心里觉得特别痛快。我发这种脾气，既不惭愧，也不悔恨，我对洋娃娃并没有爱。在我寂静而黑暗的世界里，根本没有什么温柔和同情。我察觉到我的老师把洋娃娃碎片扫到炉子边，我终于摆脱了令我不开心的东西，感到很满意。老师把我的帽子递给我，我知道又可以到外面暖和的阳光里去了。这种无法用语言表达的想法让我高兴得跳了起来。

我们沿着小路散步到水井房，这里盛开的金银花芳香扑鼻，令人心旷神怡。有人正在打水，我的老师把我一只手放在喷水口下。一股清凉的水在我手上流过，她在我的另一只手上拼写“w-a-t-e-r”（水），起先写得很慢，然后写得快一些。我安静地站在那里，所有的注意力都集中在她手指的动作上。刹那间，我恍然大悟，好像记起了一件早已经忘却的事，一种神奇的感觉在我脑中激荡，我一下子理解了语言文字的奥秘，知道了“水”这个字就是正在我手上流过的这种清凉而奇妙的东西。“水”这个活生生的词唤醒了我的灵魂，并给予我光明、希望、快乐和自由。虽然前面的道路还布满荆棘，但一定能够被扫除。

井房的经历使我的求知欲望油然而生。啊！原来世间万物都各有名称，而每个名称都能启发我新的思想。当我们回到房子里时，因为我开始用一种全新的、神奇的眼光去看每一件东西，所以我碰到的每件东西似乎都有了生命。进门时，我想起了那个被我摔碎的洋娃娃，于是我摸索着来到炉子边，捡起了碎片。我努力想把它们拼起来，但怎么做也无济于事。想起我刚才的所作所为，我的泪水浸满了双眼，这是我生平第一次感到悔恨和悲伤。

那天，我学会了不少词，我不记得具体是哪些了，但我知道有“母亲”、“父亲”、“妹妹”、“老师”等。这些词使整个世界在我面前变得犹如花团锦簇，美不胜收。啊！世界上还有比我更幸福的孩子吗？那天晚上，我躺在床上，心中充满了无限喜悦，第一次盼望新的一天到来。