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]