OBSERVATIONS ON THE AGENCY OF THE SENSES, RELATIVE TO THE UNION
BETWEEN MIND AND MATTER; AND ON THE OCCASIONAL IMPERFECTION OF THE
BODILY ORGANS OF THE SENSES, WITH THE RESULTS DEPENDING THEREUPON.
That the organs of the senses communicate with the mind, through
the mediation of certain mysterious filaments, or thread-like
bodies, termed nerves, cannot be denied; but the manner in which
this communication takes place, the process by which mind receives
information from matter, and the subtle operations which enable matter
to transfer impressions to mind, are points around which, as it appears
to us, the great Author of our being has thrown an impenetrable veil.
It is true, that, in consequence of certain discoveries relative
to what the older writers termed "the nervous fluid," discoveries
which almost go to prove that the "fluid" is of an electric or
electro-magnetic nature, a bold theory has been promulgated, namely,
that these electro-magnetic currents not only give an impress to
the mind or soul, but are in turn influenced by the agency of the
immaterial principle, and that thus the communication between mind and
matter is carried on; in fact, that the link which unites body to mind
is a mysterious agent, which (its name is of little importance) cannot
be recognised as belonging to the material world. Where revelation
leaves a subject untouched, it is, we humbly think, allowable to
theorize from facts which science has laid open; but let us remember
that, however we may incline to a theory which seems consonant to
science, a knowledge of the limitation of our intellectual powers
should lead us to cultivate a spirit of humility and candour. It is
something to approximate towards truth; let us, then, be content to
leave much for a future revelation which science on this earth can
never unfold before us.
The foregoing observations may be regarded as a slight introduction to
a passage on the connexion between the mind and body, well worthy of
especial consideration: "In considering the connexion between the mind
and the body, it is of the highest importance always to remember that
the mind, or rather the being which thinks and wills, is the active
agent. The body, with all its beautiful and wondrous adaptations,
only supplies the means of perception and of acting. Nerve-matter is
the evident medium and instrument of the being that perceives and
acts through it. Physiologists appear to have demonstrated that an
imponderable principle, akin to electricity, is evolved in the nervous
system, and that currents of this kind are constantly traversing the
different sets of nerves, according to their office and function,
either as the medium of sensation, volition, or of vegetative life.
There is, in short, an action going forward in all the nerves and their
centres similar to the electro-magnetic, and, consequently, every nerve
is polarized. The soul appears to operate upon these electro-magnetic
currents, and to be impressed by them. The _imponderable energia_
passing in these currents, is apparently the medium between the soul
and the more palpable materials forming the body. This may be inferred
from the fact, that whatever alters the force of these currents,
alters the condition of the mind in relation to the body. Thus, the
arrest of the current in a nerve, subservient to voluntary muscular
action, whether by chemical or mechanical means, prevents the mind
from exercising will in the use of the muscle, with which the nerve
experimented on is connected. The same occurs, also, in the like case
with any nerve through which we obtain sensation of the presence of any
body, which, in a natural state, would so affect the body as to produce
feeling.
"Another evidence that the soul acts through this fluid is afforded in
the circumstance, that by strongly directing the attention to any part,
as, for instance, the eye, a new sensation is perceived in the organ;
and if this kind of attention be persisted in, or frequently repeated,
the eye becomes inflamed and painful. It is also evident, that those
nerves which belong to parts, the natural functions of which latter
are carried on without our consciousness, such as the stomach, may be
rendered sensitive by a strong action of the will; and the operation
of all the reflex, or ordinary involuntary system, is modified by
mental emotion. In fact, every thought changes the nerve current.
Moreover, the brain itself, and all the nerves connected with it, are
so far influenced by the will of the individual, as to be not only
directed into new modes, so as to effect an entire alteration in the
habit of mental and muscular action, but also to such a degree, that
the completely organized brain is partly a creation of self-directing
and self-repeating mental activity. It is, so to say, developed by the
habits of the soul. How necessary, then, is early training! as we bend
the twig so is the tree inclined--a trite axiom, but, nevertheless,
very true.
"The rapidity of the mental processes seems to require an electric,
or some similar medium, by which they may be effected in connexion
with the body, since they result so instantaneously, that the will
to move, for instance, and the motion, are simultaneous. Professor
Wheatstone has proved, that electricity, like light, travels at the
rate of 192,000 miles in a second, and this appears to be an agency
sufficiently subtle to answer all the purposes of the soul as an active
being. Probably electricity and light are but one agent, acting under
different relations. It is interesting to consider ourselves, by
each act of our will, as operating upon embodied light; but whatever
be the immediate agency between mind and muscle, it is vastly more
interesting to know, that willing being is something as really and
distinctly existing as the light itself, but in its nature infinitely
more subtilely and exquisitely constituted, since it is indivisably and
inscrutinably associated with the Being who said, Let light be, and
light was!"
"If we advance further in contemplating our mental existence with
the body, we shall more clearly perceive that the body itself is not
the cause, but the instrument of mind. In order that it should be a
ready instrument, it is, as we see, constructed on electro-magnetic
principles, so that it serves the purposes of the mind in many
spontaneous actions, without even awakening consciousness. Whatever is
essential to the processes of life is carried on in the economy without
our consent; and until some demand is made by the body, requiring
our voluntary interference for the removal of inconvenience, or the
supply of aliment, our attention is not so far attracted to the body
as that our desires are distinctly perceived to arise from its state.
Thus, we feel hunger or thirst, and use means for their removal. But
our emotions and affections are at all times influenced by bodily
condition, and in many respects may be traced to a physical origin.
They are so far involuntary, that their causes are in operation before
we are aware, and they are apt to evince their power against our
wills; yet reason is tested by their presence, and she prevails over
them, in proportion to the clear perception and experience of spiritual
motives, or those moral convictions which arise from religious
enlightenment. Were it not that our connexion with the body subjects
us to feelings against which we are conscientiously and reasonably
required to contend, we should be incapable of that self consciousness
by which we distinguish ourselves from our bodies. In fact, those who
find no other inducement to thought and action than the body affords,
are really incapable of apprehending any other than bodily existence,
and they live not according to spiritual but sensual motive."[28]
[28] Dr. George Moore.
Granting the truth, or the approximation to truth, of the foregoing
theory, it is evident, not only that whatever alters the force of
the electro-galvanic currents of which the nerves are conductors,
alters the condition of the mind in relation to the body, thus making
impressions weaker or stronger; but that whatever deranges the tone or
"_timbre_" of the nerves themselves, produces mental illusions which
are sometimes of a temporary, sometimes of a permanent character. For
example, in derangements of the digestive organs, partial loss of sight
in one or both eyes, the appearance of black motes, specks, or flies
floating in the atmosphere--coloured wavy lines or zigzags--nay, even
strange faces, sometimes grotesque, sometimes terrific, palpable to
vision like the air-drawn dagger of Macbeth, are by no means unfrequent
phenomena.
But, besides these transitory effects of nervous derangement, there
are others dependent upon a permanent condition of the nerves, which
is not well understood. For example, some persons are incapable of
distinguishing between certain colours, while at the same time there
is no defect in the construction of the eye, as an optical instrument.
Sir J. Herschell examined the eyes of a person affected with this
peculiarity, and satisfied himself that all the prismatic rays had the
power of affecting them with the sensation of light, and of producing
distinct vision. Hence, therefore, as he observes, "the defect
arises from no insensibility of the retina to rays of any particular
refrangibility, nor to any colouring matter in the humours of the
eye preventing certain rays from reaching the retina, as has been
ingeniously supposed, but from a defect in the sensorium, by which it
is rendered incapable of appreciating exactly those differences between
rays on which their colour depends."
The degree of defect in these singular cases is variable, nor are the
colours which the sensorium cannot appreciate by any means always
the same. Generally, however, red and green are the colours which
are not discerned, while blue and yellow seldom fail to make a due
impression. Seebeck, on somewhat vague grounds, as we think, divides
persons labouring under this defect of vision into two classes. The
first consists of individuals who have a very imperfect power of
distinguishing the impressions of colours generally; in these, at
the same time, the defect is greatest with regard to red and green,
these colours being not distinguishable from grey; blue is imperfectly
distinguished, and yellow the most perfectly.
The second class consists of individuals who err with regard to the
distinction of red from blue; and who, as in the first class, recognise
yellow the best. It is not, as we have said, to the eye itself that
we are to look for the cause of this defect, but to some mysterious
peculiarity of the sensorium, or to some want of harmony between the
brain and the optic nerves; but whether the failure is in the energia
of the optic nerves, or in the sensorial power of the brain, we pretend
not to say. We have, in fact, in this instance, as in so many others,
only to confess our ignorance. It is scarcely needful for us to add,
that this visual defect is irremediable.
But there are defects of vision dependent upon the structure of the
eye itself, as an optical instrument; and under this head we may first
notice _myopia_, or _near-sightedness_. _Myopia_ results from an
over-refractive condition of the eye, the rays of light passing from
any object being brought to a focus in the vitreous chamber of that
organ, before reaching or impinging on the retina. In this case, either
the cornea or the crystalline lens is too convex, or both are in this
condition, or the humours of the eye generally are too dense or too
abundant, and the pupil is large. Persons thus affected see all objects
indistinctly which are viewed at the ordinary distance of distinct
vision, but objects held close to the eye are seen with microscopic
accuracy. The distance from the eye, when in a normal state, at which
objects are surveyed with the utmost distinctness, is from fifteen
to twenty inches. An eye which cannot discern objects with ease and
accuracy beyond ten inches, may be considered as myopic; but not
unfrequently persons affected with myopia cannot regard an object with
distinctness which is beyond four, three, two, or even one inch distant
from the eye.
To myopic persons, objects brought within their sphere of vision appear
magnified; a small type is read more easily than a large type; and,
indeed, such eyes see better through a pin-hole in a card than when
not thus assisted; the reason is, that the pupil, from its dilatation,
admits too many rays of light, but by diminishing the aperture through
which the rays of light are admitted, all but those which are the most
direct are excluded, and the images on the retina will be, therefore,
the more defined. On the same principle, myopic persons, when
endeavouring to see distant objects, half close the eyelids, (hence
the term myopia, from μύω, I shut, and ὤψ, an eye.) Myopic persons
generally see better in the dusk, or at twilight, than others; and
their sight, though short, is strong and good, often lasting. It has
been asserted, that as the eye flattens in age, the vision of myopic
persons will improve as they advance in life, and the theory, it must
be acknowledged, seems feasible, but experience proves that this is not
the case; indeed, it would appear that the myopia rather increases than
diminishes.
Concave glasses greatly assist the myopic eye; they cause a divergence
of the rays of light before entering the pupil, and thus counteract the
over-refractive condition of that organ. The degree of concavity best
suited to particular cases can only be determined by trials.
From _myopia_ we pass to its opposite, _presbyopia_, or
far-sightedness, (πρέσβυς, old, ὤψ, the eye,) this being a state of
vision to which old age is so commonly subject. In presbyopia the
refractive powers of the eye are feeble; that is, the rays of light are
concentrated into a focus beyond the retina, and, therefore, too far
back for the reception by the latter of a definite impression, at the
ordinary distance, of normal vision. This condition may result from
flatness of the cornea, from an insufficient convexity of the lens,
or from a shorter degree than natural of the antero-posterior axis of
the eye itself. The pupil is more or less contracted. The far-sighted
person either removes the object under examination further than is
usual from the eye, or he avails himself of convex glasses, the effect
of which is, to increase the refraction, or convergence of the rays of
light, before they enter the pupil. Although this condition of the eye
is common in elderly or aged persons, we are not to suppose that it is
confined to such alone. In aged persons it is one of those signs which
bid man prepare for his last mortal change--a change, the premonitory
warnings of which are beautifully described in the twelfth chapter of
Ecclesiastes. But this affection sometimes occurs in the young; for a
time it will remain stationary; but after a certain period, determined
by various concomitant influences, it will greatly increase, till at
length, indeed, it may be said, "those that look out of the windows be
darkened."
Another defect of vision may be next noticed; namely, _diplopia_,
or double vision. This arises from various causes, some of them
obscure, and, perhaps, connected with a morbid affection of the base
of the brain, such as a tumor pressing on the _motor oculi_ nerve,
an inflammatory condition of the brain and its membranes, or a
sanguineous or serous effusion involving the origin of the third pair
of nerves. It is often the accompaniment of squinting or strabismus,
in which, although there is a want of correspondence in the movements
or position of the two eyes, the vision of each singly is perfect.
Sometimes, however, double vision occurs in one eye only, while, at
the same time, there is no disturbance, as far as the harmony of the
movements of the two eyes is concerned; occasionally, both eyes are
affected by diplopia. In these cases, there must be some irregularity
of refraction, either in the cornea or the lens.
M. Prévost, who published an account of his own case, in the "Annales
de Chimie et de Physique," 1832, thought that the diplopia under
which he laboured might arise from a fracture, bruise, or partial
flattening of the lens, or from a separation of its laminæ. Professor
Airy and Mr. Babbage both experience the inconvenience of diplopia; in
the case of the latter, both eyes are defective, but he can obviate
the defect by looking through a small hole in a card, or through a
convex lens. "Professor Airy finds that his eye refracts the rays to
a nearer focus in the vertical than in the horizontal plane, and he
has ingeniously contrived to remedy it by the use of a double concave
lens, one surface of which is spherical and the other cylindrical. The
spherical surface is to correct the general effect of a too convex
cornea; the cylindrical is to converge or diverge those rays at right
angles to the axis; while the parallelism of those which impinge upon
it in the plane of its axis is unaffected. Thus the focus of the
spherical surface will remain unaltered in one plane, but in the other
it will be changed to that of a lens, formed by it and a spherical
surface of equal curvature with the cylinder. With the aid of a glass
of this description, professor Airy could read the smallest print at a
considerable distance, equally as well with the defective eye as the
sound one. He found that vision was most distinct when the glass was
pretty close to the eye, and the cylindrical surface turned from it.
With these precautions, he observes, I find that the eye which I once
feared would become quite useless, can be used in almost every respect
as well as the other."
These are defects in vision which, however distressing, and in
themselves, that is, as far as the eye itself is concerned, incurable,
may be borne with resignation or remedied by scientific agency. But
human beings are often called to still greater trials--to total loss
of sight--in other words, to perfect blindness. This calamity results
from many causes; for example, the cornea may become so opaque as to be
incapable of transmitting rays of light into the interior chamber of
the eye; or the crystalline lens, also, may become opaque (_cataract_;)
disease of the iris, attended by closure of the pupil, will produce
blindness, as will also paralysis, or loss of energy, in the retina or
optic nerve, (_Amaurosis_ or _Gutta serena_.) Accidents may destroy the
powers of the eye, and a flash of lightning may produce _Amaurosis_;
there are, besides, other causes of loss of vision, into which it is
not requisite that we should here enter. In certain cases, blindness
is congenital, that is, the individual was born blind, but in most
instances blindness comes on at various periods of life, subsequent
to the age of infancy. Great as is the calamity of blindness, it is
not, we think, so heavy an affliction as total deafness. Privation of
sight does, indeed, close one avenue leading from matter to mind, but,
perhaps, not the most important avenue; we may assume this fact--had
Euclid been blind he could still have written on mathematics.
Homer and Milton were both blind, and had Shakspere been blind, the
extraordinary creations of his genius would have been what they
are--the visions of mighty intellect. An admirably written passage in
one of our periodical publications may be here introduced; it proves
that blindness closes but a small inlet to the immortal soul: "We are
all familiar with many well-authenticated instances of blind persons
having attained to a distinguished position both in literature and
science. The celebrated Saunderson, who filled the chair of Newton
in the University of Cambridge, lost his very eye-balls by the
small-pox, when only twelve years old; yet before he was thirty, we
find him giving public lectures on _optics_, explaining clearly the
theory of vision, and discoursing admirably on the phenomena of light
and colours--thus furnishing by his own extensive acquirements a
convincing proof of the extraordinary powers of language, and of the
full efficiency of the ear, as an avenue to the mind. The darkness of
the blind, such as instances like this sufficiently show, is but a
physical darkness; they still possess a ready channel, through which
the brightest beams of intellectual light may be freely poured: but the
darkness of the deaf mute is a mental and moral darkness; and though he
can gaze abroad upon creation, yet it is little more than mere animal
gratification that he feels; he looks not through nature up to nature's
God, nor does he participate in that high communion which, through
the sublimity of her visible language, she holds with the soul of an
enlightened being.
"The reason why the blind usually receive from us a deeper sympathy
than the deaf, is, perhaps, because the amount of privation borne by
the former can be more accurately estimated. We have only to close our
eyes, to shut out for a while the glorious light of heaven, in order
to conceive how great that privation must be, but we can never for a
moment occupy the place of the uneducated deaf and dumb; we cannot shut
out our moral and intellectual light; we cannot dispossess our minds
of all that language has conveyed there, nor realize by any effort of
imagination the melancholy condition of a being grown up in the midst
of society, yet deprived of all power of social intercourse; whose
mind has never been elevated by a single act of devotion, nor soothed
and comforted by a single impulse of religious feeling. Man naturally
'looketh on the outward appearance;' and when we see the bright eye,
and the contented, and even joyous aspect of the deaf mute, we forget
that we may witness all this in the brutes that perish."
The ear has been happily called the vestibule of the soul, and the
annals of the blind who have become illustrious confirm the remark, for
they show that few intellectual studies are inaccessible to them. It
has even been said, and the assertion has received a kind of universal
assent among those who have associated much with the blind, that in
certain instances they have a facility which others rarely possess. We
would not go so far as Huber, who praised the advantages of blindness,
but for which, as he says, he might never have become celebrated; nor
as Holman, who has endeavoured to make it appear, that in his blindness
he possesses advantages over those travellers who have the use of their
eyes, most of whom, as he intimates, though they have the use of these
organs in perfection, yet "see not."
Huber and Holman availed themselves of the eyes of others, and in this
capability the blind have great advantages over the deaf, for their
intercourse with the outward world by means of speech is direct, hence
they obtain a knowledge of things, theories, and events, which have
passed or are passing, of their condition as men, of the requirements
of God, and of the appointed mode of salvation. The deaf and dumb
_see_, indeed, all that passes within their immediate sphere, but,
owing to the imperfect and circuitous mode of communication, (by
signs,) by means of which alone access to their mind is gained, little
definite information relative to things, events, their condition as
fallen creatures, the mode of salvation, and regeneration by the
influence of the Holy Spirit, can be communicated. They imitate, as we
can testify, the actions of those who attempt to enlighten them; they
kneel, they raise the eyes, they mimic a solemnity of deportment, and
much more, so as to persuade some that they have a clear perception of
spiritual truths; but "faith cometh by hearing," and though we would
not presume to assign a limit to God in illuminating the darkest mind,
yet we doubt whether the soul can in this life become the recipient of
the truths and promises of the gospel in all their glorious fulness.
Deaf and dumb persons are generally irascible, impatient, suspicious,
and watchful; they creep about stealthily, and take you by surprise;
they form habits to which they adhere with unflinching pertinacity, and
fret if any trifle molests them. They may attain to a certain degree
of cleverness, as the word is usually understood, but we know not any
deaf and dumb persons (as far as records go) who have attained to any
great degree of eminence, even under circumstances favourable to the
development of their powers. But with regard to the blind, they have
enriched the arts, the sciences, and literature, by their successful
pursuits, and not unfrequently under circumstances of extraordinary
difficulty. Viewing both these classes of men as devoid of education,
dependent upon themselves for support, and for the enjoyment of life,
the blind are physically greater objects of compassion than the
deaf, because, without peculiar modes of education, suited to their
privation, they cannot obtain a livelihood; but so far as happiness is
dependent upon knowledge, (and from this source some of the purest
enjoyments arise,) they are nearly on a level with ordinary men.
Through the ear they can acquire knowledge of the highest order, but
the case of the deaf is the reverse of this. They are not physically
so dependent as the blind; for, having the advantage of sight, they
may acquire by application the simpler imitative arts, and thus earn a
subsistence; but mentally, their great inferiority, their ignorance of
themselves, of all that bears upon the concerns of their existence, and
upon the condition, order, changes, and phases of things extraneous to
themselves, is painfully palpable to every philanthropic observer of
his fellow-beings. The light of the _eye_ is theirs, but the light of
the _mind_ is exchanged for darkness.
We have already intimated, that the obliteration of one organ of
sense tends to the greater perceptibility or acuteness of others.
This follows almost of necessity, because the loss of any given organ
tends to the more finished education of those which are destined to
aid it. Thus, in a blind man, the hearing is generally more than
usually acute and accurate, as is also the sense of touch; while,
at the same time, the muscular sense is surprisingly elevated.
Blind guides have been known and celebrated for their extraordinary
gifts in the wildest moorland and hilly districts. John Metcalf, of
Knaresborough, (1717,) was road surveyor and contractor in the Peak
of Derbyshire; he built bridges over rivers, and projected roads over
the ridges of the Pennine chain, nor was he less remarkable for feats
of daring, such as hard riding, swimming, etc. This person was blind
from infancy. How wonderful is the elasticity of the human mind,
which can reconcile itself in such an astonishing manner to the most
adverse circumstances, and triumph, as it were, over the loss of that
inestimable possession--sight! Many men of note, who were either born
blind, or had lost their sight at an early period, have figured in the
scientific, literary, and musical worlds. A few of these may be here
mentioned (without going back to long past centuries, that is, to the
days of Homer, or Diodatus, or even to the more recent time of Henry,
the minstrel of Scotland, born blind 1361, or of sir John Gower, of
London, who died in 1402.)
Take, by way of example, the following:--Huber, the naturalist
(Geneva, 1784-85); he became blind at the age of seventeen; he wrote
on the labours and instincts of bees and ants, and also on education.
Francis Potter (London, died 1678); he wrote on mechanics, theology,
and painting. F. Carulhi (Nantes, died 1789); born blind; he wrote on
music. Rev. J. Troughton (Coventry, died 1681); blind at four years
of age; he wrote on theological subjects. John Stanley (London, died
1781); blind at two years old; a musical performer and composer; he
wrote the oratorios, Jephthah, Zimri, etc. John Gough (Kendal, 1757);
blind at the age of three years; a writer of several communications
to the Manchester Society, and to Nicholson's "Journal on Botany and
Natural Philosophy." Sir John Fielding (Westminster, died 1780); blind
from youth; police magistrate, and author of the "Universal Mentor."
John McBeath (Dalkeith, died 1834); blind at an early age; he studied
music and mathematics, and wrote on "Inventions for the Blind." He
was a blind teacher in the Edinburgh school. James Wilson, author of
the "Biography of the Blind." James Holman, whose published travels
through many portions of the world have excited very general curiosity
and interest. Alexander Rodenback, member of the Belgian Chamber of
Deputies, and one of the principal actors in the Belgian revolution;
he was a supporter of the democratic party, and often made the chamber
ring with his original and eloquent speeches.
We might add greatly to this list, but we select the above merely as
examples, to show how, when the acquisition of knowledge is debarred at
the entrance of the eye, the mind will collect it through the inlet of
other senses. Of the numerous schools of instruction for the blind, of
which our country may well be proud--of the systems of training pursued
in them--of the labours of pious individuals, some themselves blind--it
is not our place here to speak. We devoutly pray that the blessing of
the all-seeing God may be with them and upon them!
Blindness is sometimes, but, we are happy to say, not very often,
accompanied by deafness--utter deafness. Blindness is a sad calamity;
but when blindness and deafness meet in the same object, what a
deplorable picture presents itself to every feeling heart! Blind, deaf,
mute! Christian reader, reflect--by what means, by what process, shall
access be gained to the undying mind? How can we, by human means,
instil into the soul the glad tidings of salvation, demonstrate the
corruptness of human nature, the necessity of a new birth, the efficacy
of prayer, and the perfections of the triune Jehovah? Think of an
immortal soul imprisoned in such a rayless, silent tenement, debarred
from all acquaintance with the world around, except as far as feeling
may go, and taste and smell. But God often works in a mysterious way,
and perhaps communicates light to the mind, when the visual orbs
are sealed up in darkness, and the invitations of Christ cannot be
heard from the lips of his pious minister--the good shepherd, who is
commanded to care for the little ones of the fold. Oh! how thankful
to our gracious God ought we to be, for the full use of all our
senses--those inlets to the knowledge either of good or of evil, nay,
of both; but let us say, "I and my house will serve the Lord!"
The following account is condensed from the "American Annals of
Education," and from captain Basil Hall's "Travels in North America."
It refers to the deeply touching and most interesting case of Julia
Brace, a deaf, dumb, and blind American girl, who resides in the
Institution for the Deaf and Dumb at Hertford, Connecticut: "Julia
Brace was seized with typhus fever at four years of age; during the
first week of her illness she became blind and deaf; she retained her
speech for about a year, (the tongue acting mechanically, according
to acquired muscular habit,) frequently repeating her letters, and
spelling the names of her acquaintance; but she gradually lost it,
and seems now condemned to perpetual silence. For three years she
continued to utter a few words; one of the last was 'mother' (that
word clung to her tongue; it was the earliest she heard and spoke, and
the last that died on her lips!) At first she was unconscious of her
misfortune, and imagined that a long night had come upon the world.
At length, in passing a window, she felt the sun shining warm upon
her hand, and she made signs indicating she was aware of it; she was
governed by her mother, by means similar to those employed in the case
of Mitchell. At first she was exceedingly irritable, but she became
at length habitually mild, obedient, and affectionate. At nine years
of age she was taught to sew, (wonderful the conjunct operation of
the nerves of sensibility and muscular sense!) and since that time to
knit. Julia Brace, who is now nearly thirty years of age, is supported
in the Hertford Asylum, in part by the contributions of visitors,
and in part by her own labours in sewing and knitting. A language of
palpable signs was early established as a means of communication with
her friends; this has been much improved by her intercourse with the
deaf and dumb, and is now sufficient for all ordinary purposes. It is
obvious, that her means of perceiving external objects are the smell,
the taste, and the touch. The touch is her chief reliance, and enables
her to distinguish every object with which she has been familiar,
sometimes by the aid of her lips and tongue; but her smell also is
surprisingly acute, and often enables her to ascertain facts which
are beyond the reach of other persons. Her countenance as she sits at
work exhibits the strongest evidence of an active mind and a feeling
heart, and thoughts and feelings seem to flit across it like the clouds
in a summer sky. A shade of pensiveness will be followed by a cloud
of anxiety or gloom; a peaceful look will perhaps succeed; and not
unfrequently a smile lights up her countenance, which seems to make one
forget her misfortunes. But no one yet has penetrated the darkness of
her prison house, or found an avenue for moral or intellectual light."
Blindness alone is a great calamity. Milton most affectingly deplores
his deprivation:--
------------"Not to me returns
Day, or the sweet approach of ev'n or morn;
Or sight of vernal bloom or summer's rose;
Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine,--
But clouds instead, and ever during dark
Surround me, from the cheerful ways of men
Cut off; and for the book of knowledge fair
Presented with a universal blank."
There are two morbid conditions of the eye of which we ought not here
to omit, at least, a passing notice; we allude to _hemeralopia_,
(ἡμέρα, the day, ἄλαος, blind, and ὤψ, the eye;) or, in other words,
day-blindness; and to _nyctalopia_, (νὺξ, the night, and ὤψ, the eye,)
that is to say, night-blindness. We may observe that many modern
writers, as Scarpa, and others, have reversed the plain meaning of
these terms, and have considered _hemeralopia_ as denoting sight during
the day, and blindness during the night; and _nyctalopia_ as expressing
the power of vision by night, but not during the hours of daylight.
In order to prevent any confusion or misunderstanding, we shall drop
the scientific terms, which by some are so strangely misconstrued, and
adopt their English equivalents. Perfect day-blindness, or owl-sight,
as the French call it, is of rare occurrence. Dr. Hillary never met but
with two examples; at the same time he notices a report, that there
are a people in the East Indies, and also in Siam, who are subject to
the disease of being blind in the day-time, yet who see clearly by
night.[29]
[29] Mod. Univ. Hist. vol. vii.
Day-blindness most probably never occurs as a separate disease; it is
immediately the result of a peculiarly irritable state of the retina,
insomuch that the stimulus of daylight cannot be borne; and not of the
retina only, but of the iris also, which, in order to exclude the rays
of light, closes the pupil of the eye to a mere point. All have heard
of those singular beings termed _Albinos_.
Albinos are found among all nations, and are noted, from contrast of
colour, in African and not unfrequent among the dark tribes of Africa;
indeed, it would seem that there are families of negroes in which there
is an hereditary tendency to the production of Albino children.[30]
[30] See Dr. Prichard's "Researches into the Physical
History of Mankind," vol. i. p. 366.
Among the lower animals, albinism appears to occur most frequently in
the race of tame rabbits; they are known by their white fur and red
eyes; breeds of these may be propagated; the same observation applies
to white mice.
Human albinos, at least, and probably albinos in the animal grade, are
affected by a certain degree, more or less decided, of day-blindness.
The characters of the albino result from a deficiency in the colouring
principle, common to the skin, hair, and eyes. The eyes, for example,
are entirely destitute of the dark pigment; in fact, the pink, or red
colour, so observable, depends on the fine vessels which are very
numerous in the composition of the iris, and on the still greater
number of minute arterial ramifications which almost entirely form the
choroid membrane, and which, under this condition, are seen through
the pupil. To Albinos the state of the eyes is their greatest source
of inconvenience. The absence of the black pigment, which has the
important office of absorbing superfluous portions of light, renders
the eye preternaturally sensible of this stimulus. Strong lights affect
the organ painfully; even the glare of open day produces a partial
blindness, and the admission of light is intolerable. These evils
are balanced in some measure by superior power of vision in dusk, or
imperfect darkness.[31]
[31] On this subject see Buffon, Supplement, tom. iv. p.
559; Pallas in his "_Novæ Species Quadrupedum_," pp. 10,
11, _n._, and also Blumenbach, etc.
Let us now turn to night-blindness. "Nocturnal blindness," says
Scarpa, "is properly nothing but a kind of imperfect _periodical
amaurosis_, most commonly sympathetic with the stomach. Its paroxysms
come on towards the evening, and disappear in the morning. The disease
is endemic in some countries, and epidemic, at certain seasons of
the year, in others. At sunset, objects appear to persons affected
with the complaint, as if covered with an ash-coloured veil, which
gradually changes into a dense cloud, intervening between the eyes and
surrounding objects. Persons thus affected have the pupil, both in the
day and night-time, more dilated and less movable than it usually is
in healthy eyes. The majority of them, however, have the pupil more or
less movable in the day-time, and always expanded and motionless at
night. When brought into a room faintly lighted by a candle, where all
the bystanders can see tolerably well, they cannot discern objects at
all, or at most in a very feeble manner, or they only find themselves
able to distinguish light from darkness, and by moonlight their sight
is still worse. At daybreak they recover their sight, which continues
perfect all the rest of the day till sunset."[32]
[32] Cap. xix. p. 322. Ed. 8vo.
Mr. Bamfield observes that the abolition of eyesight by night has
occurred in all ages, and is a common disease of seamen in the East and
West Indies, the Mediterranean, and in all hot and tropical countries
and latitudes, and that it affects more or less the natives likewise of
those regions of the globe. It also occurs frequently among soldiers
in the East and West Indies, but, according to the information he
has received, it is by no means prevalent amongst sailors employed
on shipboard. It is not an uncommon complaint among the Lascars
employed in the East India Company's ships, trading between India and
Europe. Celsus has remarked that females in due health are exempt from
this strange affection of the orbs of vision.[33] It may further be
observed, that the inhabitants of northerly latitudes are less subject
to night-blindness than are the natives of tropical countries in
theirs; but that when the natives of cold climates visit the tropics,
they are peculiarly susceptible to this morbid condition of the eye.
[33] Lib. vi. cap. vi.
But we must now pass from the eye to the ear. Deafness from infancy,
that is, total deafness, involves the loss of speech, or of the
utterance of a definite language. The deaf do, indeed, utter wild
cries, and, as if impelled by instinct, scream with rage, howl with
pain or fear, and mutter when pleased; but they hear not the sounds
which they themselves utter, and which are often harsh, and even
terrible.
The grand object for which the sense of hearing was given to man was
for understanding, acquiring, and using language, or speech, for the
enunciation of which the lips, the teeth, the tongue, the palate, in
fact, the whole organization of the mouth and lower part of the face,
is expressly modified, as is also the conformation of the larynx;
but, be it observed, that without mind man could never have been a
speaking animal. Here, then, we see a design often overlooked by those
who study the economy of man. The ox hears, but it could not talk or
utter language--that is, sounds modified in accent, in termination,
in length--even if it would, for the organization of the vocal organs
would prevent the required intonations; but as the lower animals are
not destined to think, to argue, to admonish, to persuade--in short,
as they are not destined for immortality--in them the faculty of
speech would be out of harmony with their real condition and destiny.
Language is a mental as well as corporeal exercise, for we have to
learn what each sound uttered means, till at length it becomes natural
to us, if we may use a popular expression. We have already alluded to
the pleasure which the mind derives from music. Now, there are a few
observations regarding deafness, or the deprivation of hearing, which
cannot be out of place. Total deafness from various causes may take
place in a person of mature years, or after he has advanced in life
to years of adolescence; in such cases language will be retained, but
the voice will be under no control, no modulation--one sentence may be
shouted, another spoken in a whisper.
We may adduce a case in point: an officer (a nobleman) in the battle
of Waterloo had his auditory nerve destroyed by the concussion of the
air from the bursting of a shell, or from the report of a cannon. He
became totally deaf, and consequently lost all control over his voice,
which became discordant, and difficult to be understood even by those
who were his intimate associates. A similar instance is mentioned by
an American writer, in which entire deafness, taking place at the age
of eighteen, so affected the articulation, that the individual was
no longer intelligible, even to his nearest friends. But, besides
total loss of hearing, whether congenital, (that is, from birth,) or
occurring at any future period, auditory incapacity manifests itself
in various degrees, and under singular modifications. For example, a
friend of the writer, who is extremely musical, and plays brilliantly
on the piano, is so deaf that she scarcely understands a word of the
conversation of persons around her; yet let a discordant note be
struck, and she feelingly appreciates it. Another lady, with whom the
writer is acquainted, cannot hear the shrill high-toned squeak of the
shrew-mouse; and the writer knows some who cannot hear the cries of
other shrill-toned animals, as the bat, or mouse, while to deeper, not
louder notes, their ears are perfectly awake.
"Dr. Wollaston constructed a small organ, whose notes began where the
notes of ordinary instruments end; the notes of his organ increased
in sharpness till they became inaudible, though he was certain that
it continued to give sound, from feeling the vibrations equally with
the lower notes. He thus found that some people could hear seven or
eight notes higher than others, and that children could generally hear
two or three notes higher than grown-up people. In some persons, the
accuracy of the ear is merely impaired in distinguishing faint sounds,
and sounds somewhat similar; instances of this kind are particularly
evident in infants, whose first attempts at speech are a very remote
similarity to the sounds they hear, and become more perfect as their
ear is educated, and in some cases remain imperfect through life, in
consequence of defect in the organs of hearing. All imperfections of
speech do not arise from imperfect hearing; an indistinct articulation
may result from various other causes; from carelessness, from defective
organs of speech, or from an imperfect formation of those organs; from
irregular respiration, producing hesitation, and in some instances
proceeding from nervousness."[34]
[34] See Dr. Arnott's "Elements of Physics," 1827.
The writer is acquainted with a lady, whose organs of hearing are
in full activity, but she cannot distinguish one tune from another;
her ear appreciates _piano_, _forte_, or _fortissime_, but neither
modulation nor rhythm. The defect here must be in the mind, (a
phrenologist would say that the organ of music in the brain was
undeveloped,) yet this lady is sensible, pious, and strenuous in her
exertions for the extension of the knowledge of Christ.
To revert, however, to the deaf and dumb (or deaf-mute) not deprived
of eyesight, we may observe, that these persons, formerly neglected
and deemed incapable of instruction, are not now excluded from the
school of knowledge and of religion. Men have at length confessed
that they possess rational souls--that they are capable of receiving
information--and that the mind may be made the recipient of a certain
amount of knowledge, varying of course according to the natural powers
of the intellect. Not that the amount of knowledge acquired by such
persons can ever, _cæteris paribus_, equal that which may be acquired
by those who labour under no defect; nevertheless, the inferiority is
only one of degree, and is easily accounted for. An able writer makes
the following pertinent remarks: "From the advantages which instruction
has afforded to a certain proportion of the deaf and dumb for the last
half century, a tolerably correct estimate may be formed of their
capabilities for improvement. The deaf-mute, living in society, but
without instruction, must be regarded as one of the most solitary and
melancholy of beings. He is shut out from all but the most imperfect
intercourse with his species, and the very intellect, by the possession
of which he is raised above the lower creation, serves only to
heighten his calamity, and render the sense of his deprivation more
acute. His perceptions of external objects are indeed accurate, but
superficial, and confined to a very small sphere.
"Of the various arts by which the necessaries and conveniences of life
are produced, he can have no knowledge beyond that which is included
in the range of his own vision. Animal desires he feels, and he is
led by the conventional usages of society to the performance of moral
duties, and the avoidance of open and flagrant crime. Thus he becomes
experienced, as other human beings are, in what is right or wrong.
He sees that virtuous actions have a certain amount of reward in the
opinions of good men, for he learns to discriminate between those whose
actions are proper, and those who do wrong; and, again, he sees that in
many cases vice meets with disapprobation and punishment among mankind.
How this kind of experience shall affect his own conduct, must depend
not only on the circumstances in which he is placed, as to example, and
the moral influence of those with whom he has to associate, but also on
his own natural tendencies. The performance of moral duties implies the
exercise of intellectual faculties, and from his birth the deaf-mute
makes use of his reasoning powers. He is subject to changes of purpose,
to changes of feeling, the pleasures and the infirmities common to his
species. He is sensible of kindness; he gives proof of affection.
That such is the uneducated state of the deaf and dumb might be proved
by the observations of their parents, friends, and instructors,
in hundreds of instances. That such must necessarily be the case,
supposing them not to be idiots, it would be easy to show. We affirm,
in contradiction to those who contend that deaf-mutes are naturally
more debased than other men in intellect and in morals, that there is
not an individual deaf-mute, now under instruction, improving, and
thereby evincing rational faculties, who, previous to his instruction,
however disadvantageous the circumstances which attended his earlier
years, did not evince moral sentiments and intellectual operations.
We have traced the history of many of this class, in different ranks
of society, down to the period when the deprivation under which they
have laboured was first ascertained; and we have invariably found that
mixture of good and evil in their actions and tendencies, which is
seen amongst other children. We have also had sufficient proofs of the
exercise of intellect even while they were in a state of childhood. The
parents of deaf and dumb children can sufficiently attest the truth of
these observations."
The writer can attest them: he can adduce facts within his own
knowledge, proving the correctness of the views entertained by the
author just quoted; reasons, however, sufficiently obvious prevent him
expatiating on this part of the subject, and, indeed, have influenced
him in adopting the words of another, whose means of observation have
been very extensive. We cannot here enter into the modes of instruction
employed in order to illuminate the minds of the deaf-mutes; all we
need say is, that it is by a system of apt signs, or of hieroglyphics,
at least in the commencement; but minds of capacity soon advance still
further; reading and writing are acquired--nay, even the power of
articulate speech. But we must pass from this part of our subject, on
which indeed much might be said.
The senses of smell and taste require a passing notice. We conjoin
these senses together, because the latter depends much for its
discrimination on the functional perfection of the former; in fact,
much of that which in the enjoyment of food is commonly attributed
to the sense of taste, depends on the odour carried from the mouth
to the nose. If, for example, we masticate any spice, or aromatic
substance, as cinnamon, while at the same time the nostrils are
strongly compressed, and breathing through those channels obstructed,
we perceive no definite flavour from the spice, although the essential
oil expressed may sting the tongue and palate. Stoppage of the
nasal passages, from catarrh, influenza, or other affections, and
preternatural dryness or thickening of the schneiderian membrane,
impair or destroy both the sense of smell and taste. We may here
observe, that irritation of the schneiderian membrane by ammonia, by
snuff, and other things of the like nature, has nothing to do with the
sense of smell residing in the nerves of that membrane: smell is the
appreciation of odours; any delicate membrane may be irritated, as,
for example, the conjunctiva of the eye. With irritants, scents may
be combined; in such admixtures for the stimulation of the olfactory
nerves many persons eagerly indulge, and under certain circumstances
they are medicinally useful; but it is the perception of scent or
odour, irrespective of irritation, which is the proper function of the
olfactory nerves.
With respect to taste, this sense resides in a branch of the fifth
cerebral nerve, called, from its function, gustatory. For the sensation
of taste, moisture must be present; an utterly insoluble body, as
crystal, is tasteless; we reduce to a pulp, by means of the teeth and
the saliva, the food which we eat, excepting, indeed, such articles as
come under the denomination of drink, or, in other words, viands in a
fluid state, such as wine, ale, coffee, etc. Perfectly pure water is
tasteless.
The contact of two metals in the mouth, producing a galvanic discharge,
excites a sensation or flavour which cannot be well described; but the
moisture of the saliva is requisite for the effect. It is said, that
the superior flavour of porter drunk out of a pewter vessel results
from a slight galvanic action going on. Mr. Mayo says, "various
substances, after exciting the sense of touch on the fauces, and that
of taste on the tongue, are capable of producing a third impression,
which is popularly referred to the palate, but which is really felt
upon the sentient membrane of the nostrils." In the case of metals
taken into the mouth, this mode of the reception of flavour would
appear to take place.
Loss of taste, like that of smell, may arise from various causes; when
the mouth is parched up by fever or intense thirst, the sense of taste
is greatly impaired, or even altogether suspended; but this condition
may be regarded as temporary. A few instances have come under our
own observation, in which, though the senses of smell and taste were
not obliterated, they were extremely obtuse, insomuch that the most
nauseous medicines or offensive odours created no feeling of repugnance
or disgust, and the most delicate viands, or the fragrance of sweetest
flowers, no pleasurable sensation. In idiots, this loss of taste and
smell is far from being uncommon; but it is not to such that we here
allude, nor is it to those who have suffered from repeated partial
strokes of paralysis or apoplexy, but to persons of sane mind and
sound health. In such cases, the deficiency is either in the sensitive
and conducting power of the nerves, or in some a loss of tone in the
portion of the brain to which they immediately lead--at all events, a
barrier is interposed between organic structure and the mind.
As far as the operations of intellect are concerned, the loss of smell
or of taste is of secondary consideration; these senses administer to
our animal enjoyments rather than to the spiritual part of our being;
nevertheless, mind and body are so united that the breath of early
flowers, the incense of the fields, the balmy breeze, the taste of
wholesome food, or of the refreshing draught, call forth the feelings
of the mind, awaken gratitude, and lead us to offer up our thanks to
Him who is the Giver of every good.
With respect to the sense of touch, we have few additional observations
to make; this sense is trained to its highest perfection in those who
are born blind, and who from early childhood have acquired the habit
of supplying by its exercise their visual deficiency, as far as one
sense can compensate for the loss of another. In the educated blind,
the faculty of distinguishing minute differences in impression, and
of receiving from a given surface of sentient integument the largest
number of separate sensations of contact, appears most remarkably
developed; in the blind, too, the exploring movements of touch are
performed with the most skill and delicacy. To so high a pitch, indeed,
is the sense of touch elevated, that many have been led to believe that
the blind are even capable of appreciating colour; it may be, we admit,
that they are able to detect by touch certain differences of texture,
which depend on the chemical processes of dyeing, or on certain modes
of preparation connected with the impartation of colour to the surface
of objects, and thus discriminating or analyzing, may be taught to
associate the name of blue with one sensation, of red with another,
and so on--more than this is impossible.
Obtuseness of feeling, or of tact, arises from various causes; the
horny hand of the labourer is less discriminative than that of the
man who is not called to toil in the field, or work at the anvil. As
regards feeling, independent of the pure sense of touch, there is much
difference even among individuals, according to the general nervous
susceptibility of the frame. Among the North American Indians this
susceptibility is less than among Europeans, as may be concluded from
the horrid details given by Mr. Catlin, and others, who have witnessed
the revolting practices of the red men of the western world.
Loss of feeling, or of tact, in one or more limbs, is the result of
paralysis, and other morbid conditions of the system, to which our
frail tenement is subject. The same observations apply to the muscular
sense, which sense is moreover deranged, or suspended, during a fit
of intoxication, (_Proh pudor!_) or when placed on some dizzy height,
one, unaccustomed to such a situation, is agitated by extreme terror.
The sailor in the rigging of the topmast, the cragsman of the Hebrides,
the hunter of the chamois, have learned to surmount such a sense of
fear, and are secure in their place of peril. The loss of sensibility,
and the loss of the muscular sense, can never pervade the whole frame,
till that hour arrives when the soul is about to quit its mortal abode,
and enter the regions of another world. To this condition all are
destined--the sentence of death is gone forth! Oh that, while living,
while in the enjoyment of our senses, and of the energies of our body,
we may "lay hold upon eternal life," and live as "dying daily!" Let us
aim at being able to appropriate to ourselves the expression of the
psalmist, "My flesh and my heart faileth: but God is the strength of my
heart, and my portion for ever."[35] No one can say this in verity, who
is not established on the "Rock of Ages."
[35] Psa. lxxiii. 26.
The Almighty has not designed that man, even in this his probationary
state, should pass through his pilgrimage without experiencing pure
pleasures and delights. It is to these that the senses administer,
each in its appointed way. The sublimity and the beauty of natural
scenery--the grandeur of mountains, forests, and seas--the glory of
the sun, moon, and starry expanse above--the works of art, towers, and
temples--all these, and more, received into the mind through vision,
produce the most delightful emotions. The flowers that strew our
pathway, the insects glittering in the sun, the waving cornfields, the
grazing cattle, the rustic cottage of the hardy labourer--all combine
to fill the soul with pleasure and thankfulness. Can we listen to the
roar of waters, to the deep murmur of the wind rushing through the
forest, to the song of birds, or the notes of sweet melody, and feel no
pleasure--no spirit of praise and gratitude? Is not food sweet to the
healthy appetite? Do we not rejoice in our strength, in the use of our
limbs, and in our manual address and precision? Are not the perfumes of
flowers, the scent of the bean-field, of the bower of honey-suckle, of
the new-mown hay, delicious? Is not the earth full of riches? Has not
the Creator adapted it to our pleasures, as well as our necessities,
and endowed us with every sense requisite for enjoyment? How delightful
to the Christian--how doubly enjoyed by him is nature in all her
phases, in all her manifestations, in all her variety! To him nothing
is uninteresting, from the mightiest creature to the animalcule,
from the cedar to the humble weed; and reflecting that knowledge
stores his mind, and pleasure gladdens, refreshes, and animates him,
through each respective medium; and delighting in life, and life's
enjoyments, he praises God for every bodily and mental endowment,
and for all the glorious works which his hands have created--works
which lead him to muse upon that inscrutable wisdom, power, love, and
consideration, which the Almighty has displayed in fitting the earth
for him as his temporary abode--glorious in its mountains, its plains,
its seas, and rivers--glorious in the light of day and the darkness
of night--glorious in the air and the clouds, in the lightning and
the rainbow; but yet an abode to be exchanged by the believer for one
infinitely more glorious, in which sin and pain are unknown, and from
which mortality is banished for ever.
Transcriber's Notes:
Page 65: Contrary to the other sections, section 8. of CHAPTER I.
has no header in the original.
Footnotes have been moved to directly under the text they refer to.
Changes made to the text:
Page 19 (table): "Heats" in the right column changed to "Heat"
Page 67/68: Added a "." at the end of the footnote
Page 153: The original read "CHAPTER V." as heading of the last
chapter, this has been changed to "CHAPTER IV." as there are only
four chapters.
Page 178: Quotes removed (originally: in others." At sunset,)
Page 179: "effects" changed to "affects" (it affects more or less)
Page 184: Quotes added ("Of the various arts)