Though the first schools for the deaf in the United States were founded to a considerable extent with the idea of charity or benevolence present, yet this was not so much the uppermost purpose as to provide instruction for them; or rather, it may be said that the benevolence itself was prompted by the desire to see the deaf led from the darkness of ignorance to the light of education. It is true that many of the pupils were recognized as entitled to material assistance as well as instruction. Some of the schools were chartered as benevolent institutions, while several even avowed themselves as charitable affairs.[201] It is also true that the promoters were in part concerned with deaf children found in poverty, these being likely to engage not a little attention. It was desired to furnish homes for a number without charge; and early accounts and statutes speak of the "care," "aid," "maintenance" or "support"[202] of these children. But it is none the less true that the great purpose in establishing institutions was educational, and the instruction of the children was the primary and chief thing guiding the hands of the men who created the schools. In the prospectuses of some of the schools any object is disclaimed other than that of education. In a circular describing the proposed school in Kansas were the words: "This is not an asylum, but a school for the education of the deaf."[203] Homes, or institutions, were provided largely for the reason that this plan appeared the only practicable means of reaching a considerable number of pupils.
With the early workers, then, the purpose was to give the children an education. But this was not all. In their vision, a far greater opening presented itself. Heretofore the deaf had been outcasts from society, had no place among civilized beings, and were a dead weight in the community. Now all was to be changed. Eyes saw a glorious transformation: the deaf were to be restored to society, and education was the magic by which it was to be done. In full measure were the founders thrilled with this prospect; and to reclaim the deaf from their condition was the great resolve.
Many of the early reports, charters and organic acts express such a purpose, and speak of the "lonely and cheerless condition" of the deaf, and the hope to "restore them to the ranks of their species." In the preamble of an "Address to the Inhabitants of Pennsylvania," prepared by the society to establish the school in this state,[204] the deaf are said to be in "entire and invincible separation from the vast stores of knowledge which human talent has accumulated—ignorant of the truths of Revelation, her glorious assurances and unspeakable consolations," all being "among the bitter ingredients which fill up the vast measure of the affliction to the deaf and dumb;" and that "among the various efforts of philanthropy and learning to enlarge the circle of human happiness and knowledge, none should perhaps rank higher than those which have been directed to the discovery and application of means for the instruction of the deaf and dumb."
In language glowing and impassioned the condition of the deaf without education is described. Almost universally they are thought of as abiding in impenetrable silence and deep darkness. In an address delivered before the New York Forum in behalf of the New York Institution[205] in its early days, it is asserted that the deaf dwell in "silence, solitude and darkness," and in the second report of this school[206] they are declared to be "wrapt in impenetrable gloom of silence, sorrow and despair." In an Ohio report[207] they are said to be in "intellectual and moral midnight;" and in a Michigan report[208] to be "groping in thick darkness." In a Louisiana report[209] they are called "sorrow-stricken children of silence;" and in a Kentucky report[210] their lives are described as "dark, dreary and comfortless." The Southern Literary Messenger[211] of Richmond, Virginia, characterizes their existence as "intellectual night." The New York Commercial Advertiser[212] in the year the first school was opened affirms that "their intellectual faculties ... are ... locked in the darkness of night and shrouded in silence." In an address delivered shortly after the opening of the Tennessee School[213] they are referred to as "entombed in a prison." The Albany Argus and Daily City Gazette[214] points to the deaf man as "abandoned to his hard fate, to wander in darkness, the pitiable object of dismal despair." In an address delivered in the Capitol in Washington[215] the deaf are said to be "doomed to wear out their lives in intellectual darkness."
The results of education were to be great beyond measurement, and the passing of the deaf from ignorance to education is likened even to the glories of the Resurrection. A Committee of Congress[216] in recommending the granting of land to the Kentucky School speaks of education as "the only means of redeeming this unfortunate portion of our species from the ignorance and stupidity to which they would otherwise be consigned by the partial hand of nature, and, indeed; of transferring them from a state of almost mental blindness to that of intellectual and accountable beings." The New York Statesman[217] speaks of the effects in "improving the moral principle, which is torpid and almost obliterated, and opening the way to moral and religious instruction and knowledge of the Deity which is almost void." An early report of the American School[218] tells of the transition of their "imprisoned minds which have too long been enveloped in the profoundest shade of intellectual and moral darkness to the cleansing and purifying light of Divine Truth." An Ohio report[219] states that they "have come forth into the light of truth, that truth that teaches them that they possess a rational and immortal spirit." In the address in behalf of the New York Institution before noted,[220] it is said of the deaf that the "powers of torpid and dormant intellects are resurrected from an eternal night of silence." The first report of the Minnesota School[221] refers to the deaf as "liberated from the winding sheets of silence and ignorance," and tells how "their souls vibrate with such joy as Lazarus felt when he stepped forth from the gloom of the grave."
In the first report of the Indiana School[222] the state of the deaf without education is thus contrasted with that of the deaf with education:
Indeed, the difference between the uneducated and the educated mute is almost incredible. The former "winds his weary way" through life in ignorance and obscurity, often an object of charity, and almost a burden to himself; but the latter, gladdened by the genial rays of knowledge and fitted for the discharge of duty, becomes a blessing to his friends and to society, acts well his part as a member of the great human family, enjoys the present, and looks forward to the future with cheerfulness and hope.
The charter of the Pennsylvania Institution refers to the desire of certain citizens "to restore the deaf and dumb to the ranks of their species;" and the preamble of the statutes creating schools in Kentucky and other states contains similar language. The purpose of the Illinois school is given in the organic act, the language of that of Nebraska and other states being almost identical:
To promote by all proper and feasible means the mental, moral and physical culture of that portion of the community, who by the mysterious dispensations of Providence, have been born, or by disease have become deaf, and of course dumb, by a judicious and well adapted course of education, to reclaim them from their lonely and cheerless condition, to restore them to the ranks of their species, and to fit them to discharge the social and domestic duties of life.
The object of the schools in Wisconsin, South Dakota, and other states is declared to be: