such as she wore herself, and fastened it about its mimic eyes.
She was seated in a little enclosure, made by school-desks and
forms, writing her daily journal. But soon finishing this pursuit,
she engaged in an animated conversation with a teacher who sat
beside her. This was a favourite mistress with the poor pupil. If
she could see the face of her fair instructress, she would not love
her less, I am sure.
I have extracted a few disjointed fragments of her history, from an
account, written by that one man who has made her what she is. It
is a very beautiful and touching narrative; and I wish I could
present it entire.
Her name is Laura Bridgman. ‘She was born in Hanover, New
Hampshire, on the twenty-first of December, 1829. She is described
as having been a very sprightly and pretty infant, with bright blue
eyes. She was, however, so puny and feeble until she was a year
and a half old, that her parents hardly hoped to rear her. She was
subject to severe fits, which seemed to rack her frame almost
beyond her power of endurance: and life was held by the feeblest
tenure: but when a year and a half old, she seemed to rally; the
dangerous symptoms subsided; and at twenty months old, she was
perfectly well.
‘Then her mental powers, hitherto stinted in their growth, rapidly
developed themselves; and during the four months of health which
she enjoyed, she appears (making due allowance for a fond mother’s
account) to have displayed a considerable degree of intelligence.
‘But suddenly she sickened again; her disease raged with great
violence during five weeks, when her eyes and ears were inflamed,
suppurated, and their contents were discharged. But though sight
and hearing were gone for ever, the poor child’s sufferings were
not ended. The fever raged during seven weeks; for five months she
was kept in bed in a darkened room; it was a year before she could
walk unsupported, and two years before she could sit up all day.
It was now observed that her sense of smell was almost entirely
destroyed; and, consequently, that her taste was much blunted.
‘It was not until four years of age that the poor child’s bodily
health seemed restored, and she was able to enter upon her
apprenticeship of life and the world.
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Dickens, Charles – American Notes for General Circulation
‘But what a situation was hers! The darkness and the silence of
the tomb were around her: no mother’s smile called forth her
answering smile, no father’s voice taught her to imitate his
sounds:- they, brothers and sisters, were but forms of matter which
resisted her touch, but which differed not from the furniture of
the house, save in warmth, and in the power of locomotion; and not
even in these respects from the dog and the cat.
‘But the immortal spirit which had been implanted within her could
not die, nor be maimed nor mutilated; and though most of its
avenues of communication with the world were cut off, it began to
manifest itself through the others. As soon as she could walk, she
began to explore the room, and then the house; she became familiar
with the form, density, weight, and heat, of every article she
could lay her hands upon. She followed her mother, and felt her
hands and arms, as she was occupied about the house; and her
disposition to imitate, led her to repeat everything herself. She
even learned to sew a little, and to knit.’
The reader will scarcely need to be told, however, that the
opportunities of communicating with her, were very, very limited;
and that the moral effects of her wretched state soon began to
appear. Those who cannot be enlightened by reason, can only be
controlled by force; and this, coupled with her great privations,
must soon have reduced her to a worse condition than that of the
beasts that perish, but for timely and unhoped-for aid.
‘At this time, I was so fortunate as to hear of the child, and
immediately hastened to Hanover to see her. I found her with a
well-formed figure; a strongly-marked, nervous-sanguine