sensible of the presence of any one near her, she is restless until
she can sit close beside them, hold their hand, and converse with
them by signs.
‘In her intellectual character it is pleasing to observe an
insatiable thirst for knowledge, and a quick perception of the
relations of things. In her moral character, it is beautiful to
behold her continual gladness, her keen enjoyment of existence, her
expansive love, her unhesitating confidence, her sympathy with
suffering, her conscientiousness, truthfulness, and hopefulness.’
Such are a few fragments from the simple but most interesting and
instructive history of Laura Bridgman. The name of her great
benefactor and friend, who writes it, is Dr. Howe. There are not
many persons, I hope and believe, who, after reading these
passages, can ever hear that name with indifference.
A further account has been published by Dr. Howe, since the report
from which I have just quoted. It describes her rapid mental
growth and improvement during twelve months more, and brings her
little history down to the end of last year. It is very
remarkable, that as we dream in words, and carry on imaginary
conversations, in which we speak both for ourselves and for the
shadows who appear to us in those visions of the night, so she,
having no words, uses her finger alphabet in her sleep. And it has
been ascertained that when her slumber is broken, and is much
disturbed by dreams, she expresses her thoughts in an irregular and
confused manner on her fingers: just as we should murmur and
mutter them indistinctly, in the like circumstances.
I turned over the leaves of her Diary, and found it written in a
fair legible square hand, and expressed in terms which were quite
intelligible without any explanation. On my saying that I should
like to see her write again, the teacher who sat beside her, bade
her, in their language, sign her name upon a slip of paper, twice
or thrice. In doing so, I observed that she kept her left hand
always touching, and following up, her right, in which, of course,
she held the pen. No line was indicated by any contrivance, but
she wrote straight and freely.
She had, until now, been quite unconscious of the presence of
visitors; but, having her hand placed in that of the gentleman who
accompanied me, she immediately expressed his name upon her
teacher’s palm. Indeed her sense of touch is now so exquisite,
that having been acquainted with a person once, she can recognise
him or her after almost any interval. This gentleman had been in
her company, I believe, but very seldom, and certainly had not seen
her for many months. My hand she rejected at once, as she does
that of any man who is a stranger to her. But she retained my
wife’s with evident pleasure, kissed her, and examed her dress with
a girl’s curiosity and interest.
She was merry and cheerful, and showed much innocent playfulness in
her intercourse with her teacher. Her delight on recognising a
favourite playfellow and companion – herself a blind girl – who
silently, and with an equal enjoyment of the coming surprise, took
a seat beside her, was beautiful to witness. It elicited from her
at first, as other slight circumstances did twice or thrice during
my visit, an uncouth noise which was rather painful to hear. But
of her teacher touching her lips, she immediately desisted, and
embraced her laughingly and affectionately.
Page 31
Dickens, Charles – American Notes for General Circulation
I had previously been into another chamber, where a number of blind
boys were swinging, and climbing, and engaged in various sports.
They all clamoured, as we entered, to the assistant-master, who
accompanied us, ‘Look at me, Mr. Hart! Please, Mr. Hart, look at
me!’ evincing, I thought, even in this, an anxiety peculiar to
their condition, that their little feats of agility should be SEEN.
Among them was a small laughing fellow, who stood aloof,
entertaining himself with a gymnastic exercise for bringing the
arms and chest into play; which he enjoyed mightily; especially
when, in thrusting out his right arm, he brought it into contact