honourable man in England, for his mind is very strong, excellent, and
sharp. I am aware that I am beneath Brougham in great wisdom and
influence. It afforded me great pleasure to receive a letter from
Brougham, and I read in it that he wanted me to pay a visit to him with
astonishment. Soon after I came to the conclusion that I would go to
London and visit Brougham. I prepared all my neat clothes and some other
things in my large trunk. After my preparation I shook hands with all my
relations and friends living in the town of C., and they looked much
distressed, for they thought that I would be shipwrecked and eaten by a
large and strong fish. But I said to them, I hoped that I should reach
London safely, and that I should return to the United States safely.
They said yes with great willingness, and they told me that I must go
and see them again whenever I should return from London to the United
States. I sailed in a large ship and saw many passengers, with whom I
talked with much pleasure, that I might get much advantage of
improvement. I slept in the comfortable cabin, and it was agreeable to
me to stay in it. I saw the waves very white with great wonder, and I
was astonished at the great noise of the storm, which was so gloomy that
I could not endure the tempest of it. I perceived the country of
England, and I hoped I would reach there in great safety. Many
passengers were much pleased to arrive at the country. I met Brougham
unexpectedly in the street, and he went with me to his beautiful house,
and I talked with him for a long time. He asked me to tarry with him
several months, because he wished to converse with me about the affairs
of the Institution, and the pupils, and teachers. He said that he loved
all the pupils, because he pitied those who were deaf and dumb, so that
he wished that all of the pupils could go to his house and be at the
large feast. I walked with Brougham through the different streets of
London, and I saw many interesting curiosities and excellent houses. I
had the pleasure of seeing William IV. in the palace by the favour of
Brougham, and he was delighted to talk with me for a long time. At
length Brougham parted with me with great regret. I reached the United
States, and I found myself very healthy. I went to my relations and
friends again, and they were much pleased to talk with me about my
adventures, the matter of London, and the character of Lord Chancellor
Henry Brougham. I was struck with vast wonder at the city of London. I
have made my composition of the fable of Brougham."
A pretty little girl told the pupils a humorous story by signs; and her
action was so eloquent that, with little help from the teacher, we were
able to make it all out. It was a story of a sailor and his bargain of
caps; and the child showed a knowledge of what goes on on board a ship
which we should scarcely have expected from her. Her imitation of
heaving the lead, of climbing the rigging, and of exchanging jokes upon
deck, was capital. It was an interesting thing to see the eyes of all
her companions fixed on her, and the bursts of laughter with which they
greeted the points of the story.
The apparatus-room is full of pretty things, and the diversity of the
appeals to the eye is wonderful. A paper sail is enclosed in the
receiver, from which the air is exhausted in the view of the pupils. As
they cannot hear the air rushing back, the fluttering of this paper sail
is made use of to convey the fact to them. The natural sciences afford a
fine field of study for them, as far as they occasion the recognition of
particular facts. The present limited power of generalization of the
learners, of course, prevents their climbing to the heights of any
science; but an immense range of facts is laid open to them by studies
of this nature, in which they usually show a strong interest. The
Philadelphia pupils are lectured to by a deaf and dumb teacher, who
passes a happy life in the apparatus-room. He showed us several
mechanical contrivances of his own; among the rest, a beautiful little
locomotive engine, which ran on a tiny railroad round two large rooms.
The maker testified infinite glee at the wonder and interest of a child
who was with us, who raced after the engine, round and round the rooms,
with a grave countenance, for as long as we could stay.
In the girls' workroom there were rows of knitters, straw-platters, and
needle-women. The ingenuity they put into their work is great. The
nicety of the platting of dolls' straw-bonnets cannot be surpassed; and
I am in possession of a pair of worsted gloves, double knitted, of the
size of my thumb-nail, of which every finger is perfect in its
proportions. Perhaps this may be the class of American society destined
to carry on the ingenuity of handiworks to perfection, as the Shakers
seem to be appointed to show how far neatness can go. One little girl
who was knitting in the workroom is distinguished from the rest by being
able to speak. So the poor little thing understands the case. She can
speak two words, "George" and "brother," having become deaf when she had
learned this much of language. She likes being asked to speak, and gives
the two words in a plaintive tone, much like the inarticulate cry of a
young animal.
I visited the New-York Institution in company with several ladies, two
of whom were deaf and dumb, and had been pupils in the school. One of
these had married a teacher, and had been left a widow, with three
children, the year before. She was a most vivacious personage, and
evidently a favourite among the pupils. The asylum is a large building,
standing on high ground, and with great advantages of space about it. It
contains 140 out of the 1066 deaf-mutes existing in the State of
New-York. The pupils are received up to the age of 25 years; and there
was one of 27 from North Carolina, who was making great progress. The
girls' dormitory, containing 80 beds, was light, airy, and beautifully
neat; the small philosophical apparatus, museum, and library were in
fine order, and a general air of cheerfulness pervaded the institution.
I had had frequent doubts whether nearly all the pupils in these asylums
were perfectly deaf: on this occasion I caused my trumpet to be tried on
several, and found that some could hear, and some imitate the sounds
conveyed through it. The teachers rather discouraged the trial, and put
away all suggestions about the use of these means of getting at the
minds of their pupils. They were quite sure that the manual methods of
teaching were the only ones by which their charge can profit. It is
natural that, wedded as they are to the methods which to a certain
extent succeed in the asylum, they should not like any interference with
these; but surely the guardians of these institutions should see that,
while so few out of the large number of deaf-mutes can be provided with
education, those few should be of a class to whom no other means are
open. The totally deaf should be first served, in all reason and
humanity; and those who have any hearing at all should have the full
advantage of the remains of the sense. The most meager instruction by
oral language is worth far more than the fullest that can be given by
signs and the finger alphabet. In their case the two should be united
where it is possible; but especially the ear should be made use of as
long as there are any instruments by which it may be reached. My own
belief is that there are, in these institutions and out of them, many
who have been condemned to the condition of mutes who have hearing
enough to furnish them with speech, imperfect to the listener, perhaps,
but inestimable as an instrument of communication, and of accuracy and
enlargement of thought. I would strongly urge upon the benevolent under
whose notice the cases of deaf young children may come, that they should
try experiments with every eartrumpet that has been invented before they
conclude that the children are perfectly deaf, and must, therefore, be
dumb.
I may mention here that I some time ago discovered, by the merest
accident, that I could perfectly hear the softest notes of a musical
snuffbox by putting it on my head. The effect was tremendous, at first
intolerably delicious. It immediately struck me that this might be a
resource in the case of deaf-mutes. If the deafness of any was of a kind
which would admit of the establishment of means of hearing anything,
there was no saying how far the discovery might be improved. The causes
and kinds of deafness vary almost as the subjects; and there might be no
few who could hear as I did, and with whom some kind of audible
communication might be established. I wrote to New-York, and begged two
of my friends to go out to the asylum with musical boxes, and try the
effect. Their report was that they believed none of the pupils could
hear at all by this method. But I am not yet fully satisfied. So few of
them have the slightest idea of what hearing is, they show that their
notion is so wide of the mark, and they are so inexpert at giving an
account of their feelings, that I have not given up the matter yet. At
any rate, no harm can be done by offering the suggestion to any who may
be disposed to take it up. We went to the New-York asylum without
notice, and walked immediately into one of the classrooms, where the
pupils were at a historical lesson, each standing before a slate as tall
as himself. In a minute, while the five ladies of our party were taking
their seats, an archlooking lad wrote down in the middle of his lesson
about Richard I. and John, that I was there, describing me as the one
next the lady in green, and giving a short account of me for the
edification of his companions. It was almost instantly rubbed out,
before it was supposed we had seen it. We could not make out by what
means he knew me.
The lessons here were no more satisfactory than elsewhere as to any
enlargement or accuracy of thought in the pupils. I doubt whether the
means of reaching their wants have yet been discovered, for nothing can
exceed the diligence and zeal with which the means in use are applied.
Their repetition of what they had been taught was so far superior to
what they could bring out of their own minds, as to convince us that the
reproduction was little more than an act of memory. They told us the
history of Richard I. and John with tolerable accuracy; but they gave us
the strangest accounts of the seasons of the year that ever were seen. A
just idea occurred, however, here and there. A boy mentioned swimming as
a seasonable pleasure; and others fruits; and one girl instanced
"convenience of studying" as an advantage of cool weather. In geography,
but little if any progress had been made; and the arithmetic was not
much more promising. Everything that can be done is zealously done, but
that all is very little. The teachers declare that the greatest
difficulty is with the tempers of their pupils. They are suspicious and
jealous; and when they once get a wrong idea, and go into a passion upon
it, there is no removing it; no possibility of explanation remains. They
are strongly affectionate, however, towards individuals, and, as we
could bear witness, very sudden in their attachments. We doubtless owed
much to having two deaf and dumb ladies in our party; but, when we went
away, they crowded round us to shake hands again and again, and waved
their hats and kissed their hands from the windows and doors as long as
we remained in sight.
Among the exercises in composition which are selected for the annual
report of this institution, there is one which is no mere recollection
of something read or told, but an actual account of a piece of personal
experience; and so far superior to what one usually sees from the pens
of deaf-mutes, that I am tempted to give a portion of it. It is an
account, by a lad of fifteen, of a journey to Niagara Falls.
"And soon we went into the steamboat. The steamboat stayed on the shore
for a long time. Soon the boat left it and sailed away over the Lake
Ontario. We were happy to view the lake, and we stayed in the boat all
night. The next morning we arrived at Lewistown, and after breakfast we
entered one of the stages for Niagara Falls. About 12 o'clock we arrived
at Niagara Falls and entered Mr. B.'s uncle's house. I was soon
introduced to Mr. B.'s uncle, aunt, and cousins by himself. After dinner
we left the house of his uncle for the purpose of visiting the falls,
which belong to his uncles, Judge and General Porter, and we crossed the
rapids; but we stopped at a part of the bridge and viewed the rapids
with a feeling of interest and curiosity. The rapids appeared to us
beautiful, and violent, and quarrelsome. Soon we left it, and went to
one of the islands to see the falls. When we arrived in a portion
situated near the falls, we felt admiration and interest, and went near
the river and saw the falls. We felt much wonder. The falls seemed to us
angry and beautiful. We stayed in the part near the falls for a long
time, and felt amazement. We went into the staircase and descended, and
we were very tired of descending in it, and we went to the rock to view
the falls. The falls are about one hundred and sixty feet in height. We
saw the beautiful rainbow of red, green, blue, and yellow colours. One
day we went to the river and crossed it by means of a ferryboat, and
left it. We went to the Canada side, and arrived at Table Rock. Mr. B.
dressed himself in some old coarse clothes, and then he descended and
went under the sheet of the falls. I felt earnest and anxious to go into
it. In a few minutes he returned to me, and soon we went back to the
river, and crossed the river, and came home, and soon sat down and
dined. We went to the island and found some plant whose name I did not
know. I had never seen it. When we were on the United States side we
could see Canada. One day we again went to the ferry to cross the river,
and went to Table Rock. We dressed ourselves in some old clothes, and
entered under the falls with curiosity and wonder. We stayed at Niagara
Falls a week. I wonder how the water of the Niagara River never is
exhausted."
That so much power of expression as this can be attained is, to those
who reflect what grammar is, and what a variety of operations is
required in putting it to use at all, a great encouragement to persevere
in investigating the minds of the deaf and dumb, and in teaching them,
in the hope that means may at length be found of so enlarging their
intercourses at an early age as to create more to be expressed, as well
as to improve the mode of expression. Those who may aid in such a
conquest over difficulty will be great benefactors to mankind. Greater
still will be the physicians who shall succeed in guarding the organ of
hearing from early accident and decay. It should not be forgotten by
physicians or parents that, in the great majority of cases, the
infirmity of deaf-mutes is not from birth.
The education of the blind is a far more cheering subject than that of
the deaf and dumb. The experiments which have been made in regard to it
are so splendid, and their success so complete, that it almost seems as
if little improvement remained to be achieved. It appears doubtful
whether the education of the blind has ever been carried on so far as at
present in the United States; and there is one set of particulars, at
least, in which we should do well to learn from the new country.
I am grieved to find in England, among some who ought to inform
themselves fully on the subject, a strong prejudice against the
discovery by which the blind are enabled to read, for their own
instruction and amusement. The method of printing for the blind, with
raised and sharp types, on paper thicker and more wetted than in the
ordinary process of printing, is put to full and successful use at the
fine institution at Boston. Having seen the printing and the books,
heard the public readings, and watched the private studies of the blind,
all the objections brought to the plan by those who have not seen its
operation appear to me more trifling than I can express.
The pupils do the greater part of the printing; the laying on the
sheets, working off the impressions, &c. By means of recent
improvements, the bulk of the books (one great objection) has been
diminished two thirds; the type remaining so palpable that new pupils
learn to read with ease in a few weeks. Of course, the expense is
lessened with the bulk; and a further reduction may be looked for as
improvement advances and the demand increases. Even now the expense is
not great enough to be an objection in the way of materially aiding so
small a class as the blind.
I have in my possession the alphabet, the Lord's prayer, some hymns, and
a volume on grammar, printed for the use of the blind; and six sets of
all that has been printed at the Boston press, with the exception of the
Testament, are on the way to me.[10] It is my wish to disperse this
precious literature where it may have the fairest trial; and I shall be
happy to receive any aid in the distribution which the active friends of
the blind may be disposed to afford.
Footnote 10: I have just received the following works, printed at the
Boston press for the use of the blind. I shall be thankful for
assistance in getting them into use, in securing a fair trial of them by
blind pupils:--
Six copies of the Book of Psalms.
----------------- Pilgrim's Progress.
----------------- Dairyman's Daughter.
----------------- Life of Philip Melancthon.
An Atlas of the United States.
The common letters are used, and not any abbreviated language. I think
this is wise; for thus the large class of persons who become blind after
having been able to read are suited at once; and it seems desirable to
make as little difference as possible in the instrument of communication
used by the blind and the seeing. It appears probable that, before any
very long time, all valuable literature may be put into the hands of the
blind; and the preparation will take place with much more ease if the
common alphabet be used, than if works have to be translated into a set
of arbitrary signs. It is easy for a blind person, previously able to
read, to learn the use of the raised printing. Even adults, whose
fingers' ends are none of the most promising, soon achieve the
accomplishment. An experiment has been made on a poor washerwoman with
the specimens I brought over. She had lost her sight eight years; but
she now reads, and is daily looking for a new supply of literature from
Boston, which a kind friend has ordered for her.
It will scarcely be believed that the objection to this exercise which
is most strongly insisted on is, that it is far better for the blind to
be read to than that they should read to themselves. It seems to me that
this might just as well be said about persons who see; that it would
save time for one member only of a family to read, while the others
might thus be saved the trouble of learning their letters. Let the
blind be read to as much as any benevolent person pleases; but why
should they not also be allowed the privilege of private study? Private
reading is of far more value and interest to them than to persons who
have more diversified occupations in their power. None could start this
objection who had seen, as I have, the blind at their private studies.
Instead of poring over a book held in the hand, as others do, they lay
their volume on the desk before them, lightly touch the lines with one
finger of the right hand, followed by one finger of the left, and, with
face upturned to the ceiling, show in their varying countenances the
emotions stirred up by what they are reading. A frequent passing smile,
an occasional laugh, or an animated expression of grave interest passes
over the face, while the touch is exploring the meaning which it was
till lately thought could enter only through the eye or the ear. They
may be seen going back to the beginning of a passage which interests
them, reading it three or four times over, dwelling upon it as we do
upon the beauties of our favourite authors, and thus deriving a benefit
which cannot be communicated by public reading.
One simple question seems to set this matter in its true light. If we
were to become blind to-morrow, should we prefer depending on being read
to, or having, in addition to this privilege, a library which we could
read for ourselves?
As to the speed with which the blind become able to read, those whom I
heard read aloud about as fast as the better sort of readers in a
Lancasterian school; with, perhaps, the interval of a second between the
longer words, and perfect readiness about the commonest little words.
Alphabetical printing is far from being the only use the Boston press is
put to. The arithmetical, geometrical, and musical signs are as easily
prepared; and there is an atlas which far surpasses any illustrations of
geography previously devised. The maps made in Europe are very
expensive, and exceedingly troublesome to prepare, the boundaries of sea
and land being represented by strings glued on to the lines of a common
map, pasted on a board. The American maps are embossed; the land being
raised, and the water depressed; one species of raised mark being used
for mountains, another for towns, another for boundaries; the degrees
being marked by figures in the margin, and the most important names in
the same print with their books. These maps are really elegant in
appearance, and seem to serve all purposes.
"Do you think," said I, to a little boy in the Blind School at
Philadelphia, "that you could show me on this large map where I have
been travelling in the United States?"
"I could, if you'd tell me where you have been," replied he.
"Well, I will tell you my whole journey, and you shall show my friends
here where I have been."
The little fellow did not make a single mistake. Up rivers, over
mountains, across boundaries, round cataracts, along lakes, straight up
to towns went his delicate fingers, as unerringly as our eyes. This _is_
a triumph. It brings out the love of the blind pupils for geography; and
with this, the proof that there are classes of ideas which we are
ignorant or heedless of, and which yield a benefit and enjoyment which
we can little understand, to those to whom they serve instead of visual
ideas. What is our notion of a map and of the study of geography,
putting visual ideas out of the question? The inquiry reminds one of
Saunderson's reply from his deathbed to the conversation of a clergyman
who was plying the blind philosopher with the common arguments in
Natural Theology: "You would fain have me allow the force of your
arguments, drawn from the wonders of the visible creation; but may it
not be that they only seem to you wonderful? for you and other men have
always been wondering how I could accomplish many things which seem to
me perfectly simple."
The best friends and most experienced teachers of the blind lay down, as
their first principle in the education of their charge, that the blind
are to be treated in all possible respects like other people; and these
respects are far more numerous than the inexperienced would suppose. One
of the hardest circumstances in the lot of a blind child is that his
spirits are needlessly depressed, and his habits made needlessly
dependant. From his birth, or from the period of his loss of sight, he
never finds himself addressed in the every-day human voice. He hears
words of pity from strangers, uttered in tones of hesitating compassion;
and there is a something in the voices of his parents when they speak to
him which is different from their tone towards their other children.
Everything is done for him. He is dressed, he is fed, he is guided. If
he attempts to walk alone, some one removes every impediment which lies
in his way. A worse evil than even helplessness arises out of this
method of treatment. The spirits and temper are injured. The child is
depressed when some one is not amusing him, and sinks into apathy when
left to himself. If there is the slightest intermission or abatement of
tenderness in the tone in which he is addressed, he is hurt. If he
thinks himself neglected for a moment, he broods over the fancied
injury, and in his darkness and silence nourishes bad passions. The
experienced students of the case of the blind hint at worse consequences
still arising from this pernicious indulgence of the blind at home.
Unless the mind be fully and independently exercised, and unless the
blind be drawn off from the contemplation of himself as an isolated and
unfortunate, if not injured being, the animal nature becomes too strong
for control, and some species of sensual vice finishes the destruction
which ill-judged indulgence began.