Five Lectures on Blindness | Page 3

friends by telling them when I pass a drug store or hospital, a
grocery, a confectioner's, or drygoods store, a paint shop, a florist's
stand, or a livery stable. I do not think the blind have a keener sense of
taste than any other class of people, although this claim is often made,
even by the blind themselves.
We have, then, the senses of hearing, touch and smell, each playing its
part in the development of the blind child, and each playing it so well
that the lack of eyesight is not keenly felt in early childhood. Not until
it is old enough to understand the thoughtless remarks of well-meaning
people, to catch the pitying tone, to feel the compassionate touch, does
it realize that this lack of eyesight is to prove an almost insurmountable
barrier to its future success.
I was in my sixth year before I understood the meaning of the word
"blind." Up to that time, I had romped and played with other children,

climbed trees, jumped ditches, accepting bumps and bruises as part of
the game, and having no sense of fear, since some child always held my
hand. In fact, in those days, all the children held each other's hands, and
it was easier going, so. Is it not a pity that, in later life, we feel so
self-reliant we are unwilling to admit that the way could often be made
easier if we resorted to the childish game of holding hands, and moved
forward together as we faced the more serious struggles of life. My first
realization of the meaning of blindness came when, one day, after
hearing some people call me "poor child," and expressing their
sympathy to my mother, I asked if we were very poor, poorer than my
playmates, and why I could not go to school. My mother explained that
we were no poorer than the others, that the ladies did not mean it in that
way, but were sorry that I could not see and did not think I could ever
go to school. But my mother assured me that I was going to school, and
that there I would learn to see with my fingers, better than the ladies
did with their eyes. My childish mind was aroused then, and I asked
every one what it meant to see, and soon realized that I did not know
what "seeing" really was, at least, not in the sense the other children
used the word. I was filled with wonder, since my world had hitherto
seemed so complete--I heard things, or felt things, or smelled things,
and was satisfied--and yet there was another medium of knowledge
entirely unknown to me, and until then unnecessary. How eagerly I
looked forward to the time when I should learn to see and my heart was
filled with childish rapture on the day when I entered the school for the
blind at Berkeley. My first question, on meeting the Superintendent,
was, "are you going to teach me to see?" How well he performed this
task, how wisely he guided my childish feet, how carefully he
developed my eager mind, stimulated my ambition, and renewed my
faltering courage, I did not realize until I was called upon to face life,
with its trials and opportunities. And here, where his work is so well
known, I wish to pay my tribute of love and gratitude to Dr. Warring
Wilkinson. He was my great-hearted, great-souled teacher, father and
friend.
When I found myself in a place with children some of whom were, like
myself, blind from infancy, and others whose eyesight had been lost
through various accidents, and yet others who could see to go about, to

tell the color of our ribbons, and advise us of the approach of a matron
or teacher my wonder grew apace. This process of learning to see was
varied and absorbing, but I soon found that it had its limitations, and
that, after all, eyes were very useful possessions, and without them I
could know nothing of color, could not picture the sky, or any of the
heavenly bodies; nor could I distinguish different people, unless I heard
their voices or steps, though no two had faces alike. I found, too, that
some children who could see colors, could not recognize faces, and I
came to realize that vision, however slight, was greatly to be desired. I
could distinguish light from darkness, and this enabled me to locate
doors and windows; but color, with its varying shades, was then, and is
now, a mystery profound. But in my desire to see, to be just like other
children, I resolved to learn all I could about color, and so I memorized
the list of colors, which ones harmonized, which were most pleasing to