[13] A noted blind teacher of the blind says: "Wenn wir ... den
Einfluss der Blindheit auf die geistige Thätigkeit des Blinden
beobachten, so haben wir Blindgeborene und Blindgewordene ... streng
auseinander zu halten."
[14] This applies mainly to intellectual acquirements. The
emotional life of those who have lost their sight is often, and
with much truth, regarded as sadder and more dreary than that of
the congenitally blind; the former regretfully appreciate what they
have lost; the latter live in a different and more meagre world, but
have never known any other. It is interesting in this connection to
trace the influence of the age of "blinding" (_sit venia verbo_) on
the mental development of eminent blind men and women. Of a list
of 125 blind persons of very various degrees of talent, which I
have been able to collect, the age of blinding was (approximately)
ascertainable in 114 cases. Of these about 11 are really very
distinguished, and 10 of them (the exception is the wonderful
mathematician, Nicholas Saunderson) became blind either in advanced
youth, middle life, or still later; of the group next in eminence
(about 25) the average age of the onset of blindness is in early
youth (at nine or ten years); and those earliest blind are generally
musicians, who least of all require sight for their calling. The
average age of blinding of the rest of the list--whose achievements
would for the most part not have been recorded had they not been
those of blind persons--is as low as seven years, while that of the
musicians (about 15 in the group) is little over three years. All
this speaks strongly for the permanent intellectual importance of
sight in early education.
[15] Dr. Heermann's observations also enable us to trace the
anatomical conditions underlying the power of dream-vision. From ten
cases in which post-mortem examinations were held, he concludes that,
allowing for much individual difference, after about twenty years
the optic nerves degenerate, and often as far back as the chiasma.
This shows that the nerve is not necessary for dream-vision, and thus
goes to prove that the process is dependent on cerebral organs--a
valuable piece of evidence fifty years ago. Esquirol records a case
of sight-hallucinations in a blind woman, again indicating the same
conclusion.
[16] A further interesting question regarding the dream-vision of the
partially blind is, How much must they be able to see in order to
dream of seeing? In answering this question, the blind give the name
"seeing" to what is really a complex of sensations and judgments, and
this same complex may enter into their dreams. Cases occur in which
there is only the slightest remnant of sight, and yet this forms a
factor in dream-life. It is a very imperfect kind of vision, and
acts more as a general sense of illumination, and as an anticipatory
sense. Generally speaking, those who know color have more frequent
and brighter dream-vision than those who distinguish light and
shade only. For example, of those partially blind from birth, such
as see color tolerably well (there are sixteen such) have regular
dream-vision--of course, no clearer than their best days of sight. Of
eleven who have some faint notion of color, three have dream-vision
regularly; six have it rarely, while two (almost never or) never have
it. Of eleven who can see no color at all, ten have no dream-vision,
and one has it occasionally.
[17] That even a comparatively slight disturbance of vision,
affecting only a small portion of the visual experience, can leave
a permanent trace upon the sight-centre is made very probable by a
case (recorded by Dr. McCosh, _Cognitive Powers_, p. 106) of a young
man whose defect consisted in his seeing everything double,--a defect
which a subsequent operation removed. "If I attempt," he writes,
"to recall scenes that I saw while my eyes were out of order, I
invariably see them as they appeared during that time, although I
may have seen them many times since the operation. For instance, in
the case of the minister in the pulpit at home, I see two images of
him, no matter how much I may try to get rid of one of them.... My
recollection of the office in which the operation was performed,
as also of everything in it, is double, although I saw it only
twice before the restoration of my sight, and many times after. The
objects which I have seen since the operation are always single when
recalled."
[18] I have gathered considerable data in regard to the dreams of the
deaf, but they are not ready for definite formulation.
[19] From Dr. Hall's manuscript. Dr. Hall had the opportunity of
observing her during three short naps, and has incorporated a part
of his manuscript into a paper on Laura Bridgman, republished in
his _Aspects of German Culture_, pp. 268-270. From this manuscript
I take the following illustrations of her dreams, and her method of
describing them. They are recorded verbatim.
"_Question._ 'Do you dream often?' _Answer._ 'Very often, many
things.' _Q._ 'Did you think hard yesterday to remember dreams for
me?' _A._ 'I did try, but I always forget very soon.' _Q._ 'Did you
ever dream to hear?' [Her idiom for 'that you could hear.'] _A._
'Only the angels playing in heaven.' _Q._ 'How did it sound?' _A._
'Very beautiful.' _Q._ 'Like what?' _A._ 'Nothing.' _Q._ 'Was it
loud?' _A._ 'Yes, very.' _Q._ 'What instrument?' _A._ 'Piano.' _Q._
'How did the angels look?' _A._ 'Beautiful.' _Q._ 'Had they wings?'
_A._ 'I could not know.' _Q._ 'Were they men or women?' _A._ 'Don't
know.' _Q._ 'Can you describe their dress?' _A._ 'No.' _Q._ 'Was
the music fast or slow?' _A._ 'I cannot tell.' On another occasion
she was asked, 'Did you ever dream to see?' _A._ 'I could see the
sun.' _Q._ 'How did it look?' _A._ 'Glorious.' _Q._ 'What color?'
_A._ 'I cannot tell' [with a sign of great impatience]. _Q._ 'Was
it very bright?' _A._ 'Yes.' _Q._ 'Did it hurt your eyes?' _A._
'Yes, they ached.' _Q._ 'What was it like?' _A._ 'Nothing. I saw it
with my eyes' [much excited, breathing hard and fast, and pointing
to her right eye]. Some days later, after some promptings from her
attendants, she renewed the subject of her own accord, as follows:
'I remember once a dream. I was in a very large place. It was very
glorious and full of people. My father and mother were standing by.
The glorious piano was playing. When I heard the music I raised up
my hand so' [standing and pointing impressively upward and forward
with the index finger, as the letter g is made in the deaf and dumb
alphabet] 'to my heavenly Father. I tried to say God.' _Q._ 'With
your fingers?' _A._ 'Yes.' _Q._ 'Where was God?' _A._ 'So' [pointing
as before]. _Q._ 'Far away?' _A._ 'No.' _Q._ 'Could you touch him?'
_A._ 'No.' _Q._ 'How did you know he was there?' _A._ 'I cannot
tell.' _Q._ 'How did you know it was God?' _A._ 'I cannot explain.'
_Q._ 'What was he like?' _A._ [After a pause] 'I cannot tell
everything to everybody' [half playfully, whipping her right hand
with her left, and touching her forehead significantly, to indicate
that she was unable adequately to express what was in her mind]. _Q._
'Could he touch you?' _A._ 'No. He is a spirit.' _Q._ 'Did he see
you?' _A._ 'He sees everything. See how melancholy I look because I
do not feel interested.' On another occasion she said, 'I often dream
that Doctor Howe is alive and very sick,' but no details could be
elicited. Again, after imitating the gait of different people, she
said, 'I dream often of people walking. I dream many things, but do
not remember what I really dream. I used to dream of animals running
around the room, and it woke me.'"
It is evident that her dreams of hearing and seeing were either
merely verbal, or the substitution and elaboration of kindred
sensations (sense of jar and heat) which she experienced. For further
examples of her dreams see her _Life and Education_, by Mrs. Lamson,
pp. 88, 154, 166-168, 218, 223, 224, 226, 286, 290, 303, 304.
[20] _The Lost Senses_, by John Kitto. Dr. Kitto draws an ingenious
inference from the sonnet addressed by Milton to his deceased
(second) wife, whom he married after the onset of his blindness. From
the lines, "I trust to have | Full sight of her in Heav'n without
restraint," and "The face was veiled, yet to my fancied sight," etc.,
he argues that the poet was unable to imagine the face of his wife,
which he had never really seen, and so saw the face veiled; but hoped
in the future world to have "full sight of her without restraint."
[21] I have evidence to indicate that among the blind (as probably
amongst persons at large) women dream more extensively than men, that
is, they have more "frequent" and fewer "occasional" dreamers than
men. The period from five to nine years is richer in dreams than the
period from ten to fourteen years, and from then on a slight decrease
with age occurs. It is to childhood, the period of lively imagination
and of a highly tinged emotional life (and to women, who present
these characteristics more prominently than men), that dream-life
brings its richest harvest.