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forgotten　that　with　the　fingers　I　see　only　a　very　small　portion　of　a
surface；　and　that　I　must　pass　my　hand　continually　over　it　before　my
touch　grasps　the　whole。　It　is　still　more　important；　however；　to　remember
that　my　imagination　is　not　tethered　to　certain　points；　locations；　and
distances。　It　puts　all　the　parts　together　simultaneously　as　if　it　saw　or
knew　instead　of　feeling　them。　Though　I　feel　only　a　small　part　of　my
horse　at　a　time；……my　horse　is　nervous　and　does　not　submit　to　manual
explorations；……yet；　because　I　have　many　times　felt　hock；　nose；　hoof　and
mane；　I　can　see　the　steeds　of　Phoebus　Apollo　coursing　the　heavens。

With　such　a　power　active　it　is　impossible　that　my　thought　should　be
vague；　indistinct。　It　must　needs　be　potent；　definite。　This　is　really　a
corollary　of　the　philosophical　truth　that　the　real　world　exists　only　for
the　mind。　That　is　to　say；　I　can　never　touch　the　world　in　its　entirety；
indeed；　I　touch　less　of　it　than　the　portion　that　others　see　or　hear。　But
all　creatures；　all　objects；　pass　into　my　brain　entire；　and　occupy　the
same　extent　there　that　they　do　in　material　space。　I　declare　that　for　me
branched　thoughts；　instead　of　pines；　wave；　sway；　rustle；　make　musical
the　ridges　of　mountains　rising　summit　upon　summit。　Mention　a　rose　too
far　away　for　me　to　smell　it。　Straightway　a　scent　steals　into　my
nostril；　a　form　presses　against　my　palm　in　all　its　dilating　softness；
with　rounded　petals；　slightly　curled　edges；　curving　stem；　leaves
drooping。　When　I　would　fain　view　the　world　as　a　whole；　it　rushes　into
vision……man；　beast；　bird；　reptile；　fly；　sky；　ocean；　mountains；　plain；
rock；　pebble。　The　warmth　of　life；　the　reality　of　creation　is　over
all……the　throb　of　human　hands；　glossiness　of　fur；　lithe　windings　of　long
bodies；　poignant　buzzing　of　insects；　the　ruggedness　of　the　steeps　as　I
climb　them；　the　liquid　mobility　and　boom　of　waves　upon　the　rocks。
Strange　to　say；　try　as　I　may；　I　cannot　force　my　touch　to　pervade　this
universe　in　all　directions。　The　moment　I　try；　the　whole　vanishes；　only
small　objects　or　narrow　portions　of　a　surface；　mere　touch…signs；　a　chaos
of　things　scattered　at　random；　remain。　No　thrill；　no　delight　is　excited
thereby。　Restore　to　the　artistic；　prehensive　internal　sense　its
rightful　domain；　and　you　give　me　joy　which　best　proves　the　reality。




BEFORE　THE　SOUL　DAWN




XI

BEFORE　THE　SOUL　DAWN


BEFORE　my　teacher　came　to　me；　I　did　not　know　that　I　am。　I　lived　in　a
world　that　was　a　no…world。　I　cannot　hope　to　describe　adequately　that
unconscious；　yet　conscious　time　of　nothingness。　I　did　not　know　that　I
knew　aught；　or　that　I　lived　or　acted　or　desired。　I　had　neither　will　nor
intellect。　I　was　carried　along　to　objects　and　acts　by　a　certain　blind
natural　impetus。　I　had　a　mind　which　caused　me　to　feel　anger；
satisfaction；　desire。　These　two　facts　led　those　about　me　to　suppose
that　I　willed　and　thought。　I　can　remember　all　this；　not　because　I　knew
that　it　was　so；　but　because　I　have　tactual　memory。　It　enables　me　to
remember　that　I　never　contracted　my　forehead　in　the　act　of　thinking。　I
never　viewed　anything　beforehand　or　chose　it。　I　also　recall　tactually
the　fact　that　never　in　a　start　of　the　body　or　a　heart…beat　did　I　feel
that　I　loved　or　cared　for　anything。　My　inner　life；　then；　was　a　blank
without　past；　present；　or　future；　without　hope　or　anticipation；　without
wonder　or　joy　or　faith。

　　　　　　　　　　It　was　not　night……it　was　not　day。

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　。　　　　　　　。　　　　　　　。　　　　　　　。　　　　　　　。

　　　　　　　　　　But　vacancy　absorbing　space；
　　　　　　　　　　And　fixedness；　without　a　place；
　　　　　　　　　　There　were　no　stars……no　earth……no　time……
　　　　　　　　　　No　check……no　change……no　good……no　crime。

My　dormant　being　had　no　idea　of　God　or　immortality；　no　fear　of　death。

I　remember；　also　through　touch；　that　I　had　a　power　of　association。　I
felt　tactual　jars　like　the　stamp　of　a　foot；　the　opening　of　a　window　or
its　closing；　the　slam　of　a　door。　After　repeatedly　smelling　rain　and
feeling　the　disfort　of　wetness；　I　acted　like　those　about　me：　I　ran　to
shut　the　window。　But　that　was　not　thought　in　any　sense。　It　was　the　same
kind　of　association　that　makes　animals　take　shelter　from　the　rain。　From
the　same　instinct　of　aping　others；　I　folded　the　clothes　that　came　from
the　laundry；　and　put　mine　away；　fed　the　turkeys；　sewed　bead…eyes　on　my
doll's　face；　and　did　many　other　things　of　which　I　have　the　tactual
remembrance。　When　I　wanted　anything　I　liked；……ice…cream；　for　instance；
of　which　I　was　very　fond；……I　had　a　delicious　taste　on　my　tongue　（which；
by　the　way；　I　never　have　now）；　and　in　my　hand　I　felt　the　turning　of　the
freezer。　I　made　the　sign；　and　my　mother　knew　I　wanted　ice…cream。　I
〃thought〃　and　desired　in　my　fingers。　If　I　had　made　a　man；　I　should
certainly　have　put　the　brain　and　soul　in　his　finger…tips。　From
reminiscences　like　these　I　conclude　that　it　is　the　opening　of　the　two
faculties；　freedom　of　will；　or　choice；　and　rationality；　or　the　power　of
thinking　from　one　thing　to　another；　which　makes　it　possible　to　e　into
being　first　as　a　child；　afterwards　as　a　man。

Since　I　had　no　power　of　thought；　I　did　not　pare　one　mental　state　with
another。　So　I　was　not　conscious　of　any　change　or　process　going　on　in　my
brain　when　my　teacher　began　to　instruct　me。　I　merely　felt　keen　delight
in　obtaining　more　easily　what　I　wanted　by　means　of　the　finger　motions
she　taught　me。　I　thought　only　of　objects；　and　only　objects　I　wanted。　It
was　the　turning　of　the　freezer　on　a　larger　scale。　When　I　learned　the
meaning　of　〃I〃　and　〃me〃　and　found　that　I　was　something；　I　began　to
think。　Then　consciousness　first　existed　for　me。　Thus　it　was　not　the
sense　of　touch　that　brought　me　knowledge。　It　was　the　awakening　of　my
soul　that　first　rendered　my　senses　their　value；　their　cognizance　of
objects；　names；　qualities；　and　properties。　Thought　made　me　conscious　of
love；　joy；　and　all　the　emotions。　I　was　eager　to　know；　then　to
understand；　afterward　to　reflect　on　what　I　knew　and　understood；　and　the
blind　impetus；　which　had　before　driven　me　hither　and　thither　at　the
dictates　of　my　sensations；　vanished　forever。

I　cannot　represent　more　clearly　than　any　one　else　the　gradual　and　subtle
changes　from　first　impressions　to　abstract　ideas。　But　I　know　that　my
physical　ideas；　that　is；　ideas　derived　from　material　objects；　appear　to
me　first　an　idea　similar　to　those　of　touch。　Instantly　they　pass　into
intellectual　meanings。　Afterward　the　meaning　finds　expression　in　what　is
called　〃inner　speech。〃　When　I　was　a　child；　my　inner　speech　was　inner
spelling。　Although　I　am　even　now　frequently　caught　spelling　to　myself　on
my　fingers；　yet　I　talk　to　myself；　too；　with　my　lips；　and　it　is　true　that
when　I　first　learned　to　speak；　my　mind　discarded　the　finger…symbols　and
began　to　articulate。　However；　when　I　try　to　recall　what　some　one　has
said　to　me；　I　am　conscious　of　a　hand　spelling　into　mine。

It　has　often　been　asked　what　were　my　earliest　impressions　of　the　world
in　which　I　found　myself。　But　one　who　thinks　at　all　of　his　first
impressions　knows　what　a　riddle　this　is。　Our　impressions　grow　and　change
unnoticed；　so　that　what　we　suppose　we　thought　as　children　may　be　quite
different　from　what　we　actually　experienced　in　our　childhood。　I　only
know　that　after　my　education　began　the　world　which　came　within　my　reach
was　all　alive。　I　spelled　to　my　blocks　and　my　dogs。　I　sympathized　with
plants　when　the　flowers　were　picked；　because　I　thought　it　hurt　them；
and　that　they　grieved　for　their　lost　blossoms。　It　was　two　years　before　I
could　be　made　to　believe　that　my　dogs　did　not　understand　what　I　said；
and　I　always　apologized　to　them　when　I　ran　into　or　stepped　on　them。

As　my　experiences　broadened　and　deepened；　the　indeterminate；　poetic
feelings　of　childhood　began　to　fix　themselves　in　definite　thoughts。
Nature……the　world　I　could　touch……was　folded　and　filled　with　myself。　I　am
inclined　to　believe　those　philosophers　who　declare　that　we　know　nothing
but　our　own　feelings　and　ideas。　With　a　little　ingenious　reasoning　one
may　see　in　the　material　world　simply　a　mirror；　an　image　of　permanent
mental　sensations。　In　either　sphere　self…knowledge　is　the　condition　and
the　limit　of　our　consciousness。　That　is　why；　perhaps；　many　people　know
so　little　about　what　is　beyond　their　short　range　of　experience。　They
look　within　themselves……and　find　nothing！　Therefore　they　conclude　that
there　is　nothing　outside　themselves；　either。

However　that　may　be；　I　came　later　to　look　for　an　image　of　my　emotions
and　sensations　in　others。　I　had　to　learn　the　outward　signs　of　inward
feelings。　The　start　of　fear；　the　suppressed；　controlled　tensity　of　pain；
the　beat　of　happy　muscles　in　others；　had　to　be　perceived　and　pared
with　my　own　experiences　before　I　could　trace　them　back　to　the　intangible
soul　of　another。　Groping；　uncertain；　I　at　last　found　my　identity；　and
after　seeing　my　thoughts　and　feelings　repeated　in　others；　I　gradually
constructed　my　world　of　men　and　of　God。　As　I　read　and　study；　I　find
that　this　is　what　the　rest　of　the　race　has　done。　Man　looks　within
himself　and　in　time　finds　the　measure　and　the　meaning　of　the　universe。




THE　LARGER　SANCTIONS




XII

THE　LARGER　SANCTIONS


SO；　in　the　midst　of　life；　eager；　imperious　life；　the　deaf…blind　child；
fettered　to　the　bare　rock　of　circumstance；　spider…like；　sends　out
gossamer　threads　of　thought　into　the　measureless　void　that　surrounds
him。　Patiently　he　explores　the　dark；　until　he　builds　up　a　knowledge　of
the　world　he　lives　in；　and　his　soul　meets　the　beauty　of　the　world；　where
the　sun　shines　always；　and　the　birds　sing。　To　the　blind　child　the　dark
is　kindly。　In　it　he　finds　nothing　extraordinary　or　terrible。　It　is　his
familiar　world；　even　the　groping　from　place　to　place；　the　halting
steps；　the　dependence　upon　others；　do　not　seem　strange　to　him。　He　does
not　know　how　many　countless　pleasures　the　dark　shuts　out　from　him。　Not
until　he　weighs　his　life　in　the　scale　of　others'　experience　does　he
realize　what　it　is　to　live　forever　in　the　dark。　But　the　knowledge　that
teaches　him　this　bitterness　also　brings　its　consolation……spiritual
light；　the　promise　of　the　day　that　shall　be。

The　blind　child……the　deaf…blind　child……has　inherited　the　mind　of　seeing
and　hearing　ancestors……a　mind　measured　to　five　senses。　Therefore　he　must
be　influenced；　even　if　it　be　unknown　to　himself；　by　the　light；　colour；
song　which　have　been　transmitted　through　the　language　he　is　taught；　for
the　chambers　of　the　mind　are　ready　to　receive　that　language。　The　brain
of　the　race　is　so　permeated　with　colour　that　it　dyes　even　the　speech　of
the　blind。　Every　object　I　think　of　is　stained　with　the　hue　that　belongs
to　it　by　association　and　memory。　The　experience　of　the　deaf…blind
person；　in　a　world　of　seeing；　hearing　people；　is　like　that　of　a　sailor
on　an　island　where　the　inhabitants　speak　a　language　unknown　to　him；
whose　life　is　unlike　that　he　has　lived。　He　is　one；　they　are　many；　there
is　no　chance　of　promise。　He　must　learn　to　see　with　their　eyes；　to
hear　with　their　ears；　to　think　their　thoughts；　to　follow　their　ideals。

If　the　dark；　silent　world　which　surrounds　him　were　essentially　different
from　the　sunlit；　resonant　world；　it　would　be　inprehensible　to　his
kind；　and　could　never　be　discussed。　If　his　feelings　and　sensations　were
fundamentally　different　from　those　of　others；　they　would　be
inconceivable　except　to　those　who　had　similar　sensations　and　feelings。
If　the　mental　consciousness　of　the　deaf…blind　person　were　absolutely
dissimilar　to　that　of　his　fellows；　he　would　have　no　means　of　imagining
what　they　think。　Since　the　mind　of　the　sightless　is　essentially　the　same
as　that　of　the　seeing　in　that　it　admits　of　no　lack；　it　must　supply　some
sort　of　equivalent　for　missing　physical　sensations。　It　must　perceive　a
likeness　between　things　outward　and　things　inward；　a　correspondence
between　the　seen　and　the　unseen。　I　make　use　of　such　a　correspondence　in
many　relations；　and　no　matter　how　far　I　pursue　it　to　things　I　cannot
see；　it　does　not　break　under　the　test。

As　a　working　hypothesis；　correspondence　is　adequate　to　all　life；　through
the　whole　range　of　phenomena。　The　flash　of　thought　and　its　swiftness
explain　the　lightning　flash　and　the　sweep　of　a　et　through　the
heavens。　My　mental　sky　opens　to　me　the　vast　celestial　spaces；　and　I
proceed　to　fill　t