Five Lectures on Blindness | Page 4

the eye, which were bright, which produced a sombre impression. Thus
I soon learned to speak of color with a degree of intelligence, and to
select my gowns with a view to pleasing the eyes of my friends. I soon
learned to associate certain phrases with certain colors--for instance,
blue as the sky, green as grass, yellow as gold, black as night, red as
fire, and brown as a berry. I also learned that a color had a variety of
shades, and that at times colors were changeable, it being difficult to
distinguish blue from green at night. The sky, with its starred
phenomena, was even harder to conceive, and I could not understand
how clouds obscured the sun, or how old Sol could put the blackest
clouds to rout.
My ears and fingers continued to flood my mind with knowledge, and
the want of eyesight did not distress me. When I touched an object, or
listened to a lesson, my mind stored it away for future reference, and
often now, when recalling some facts in history or geography, I can
hear the voice of the teacher who read the particular passage.
I was eight years old when I first examined a horse, although I was
familiar with the sound of its feet on the pavement, and knew whether
it walked, trotted or galloped. The horse I examined had been driven a
long distance, and so was very warm; when my hand was placed upon
its mane, the hair was damp and clung to the back, and there was an

odor of steaming flesh. A fly was tormenting the animal, and, as it
tossed its head impatiently, I could hear the rattle of harness, and the
sound of its restive foot upon the ground. These impressions have
always remained with me. My knowledge of the horse was acquired
through the senses of hearing, touch and smell. And so with the cow. I
can hear its low "moo, moo," hear the milk dropping into the pail, feel
the hard outer shell of the horns, and catch the odor that is ever present
in the cow's domain. The cat and dog have their peculiarities, too--the
mewing of the cat, and the sounds heard when it purrs while washing
its face--the dog's quick bark, and the sound it makes when panting for
breath, as it rests after a long chase. I know the animals have different
colors, peculiar to them, but this knowledge has no place in my mental
conception of them.
In judging people, the voice is my infallible guide. I am instantly
attracted or repelled by a voice, and my estimate of character is rarely
incorrect. By the voice I am able to form a very accurate idea as to
height, weight and age, so here again I do not feel the lack of eyesight.
The voice is an unfailing index to character, and the trained ear is quick
to catch the slightest variation in tone, and can detect traits and moods
hidden from the eye, because not registered upon the face. There is a
strong voice, a brave voice, a voice full of hope and cheer; a tired voice,
a crafty voice, a voice full of dull despair. And so here again I do not
feel the lack of eyesight in noting differences in my fellow men. I know
that there are distinguishing marks, that heads are shaped differently,
and that hair and eyes have different colors, corresponding to the
various types, as blondes or brunettes. All this I know abstractly, but it
is just one of the bits of information tucked away in memory's
storehouse. I do not suppose many of you have ever heard a smile. I
have. I hear a smile almost before the lips can register it, and to me the
sound is as musical as the laughter of a very young child. I think
hearing a smile must be like seeing the light in the eyes, and so lack of
eyesight is no deprivation in this connection.
All during my days at school, I went on acquiring knowledge, learning
to see many things, scarcely realizing the handicap of blindness,
because every help was given me, and I was surrounded by those

whose condition was like my own. But when I went out into the world,
I found that many seeing people, so called, had very little vision,
although their eyesight was perfect. I found, too, that, although I knew
many things, and was well equipped to earn my own living, my lack of
eyesight was responsible for a corresponding lack of confidence upon
the part of the public. This was a great disappointment, for I knew I
could succeed, if only some one would give me the opportunity. After
waiting twenty years, the State Library gave me