AGTOBIOfiRAPHY 
 
 TOTE 
 
 AS" ESSAY m HIS 
 
 LIFE AM) f RITMS 
 
 AND ON THE 
 
 T A! Tif PTIV 
 nl ill IfiL J)Mi
 
 Ex Libris 
 C. K. OGDEN 1 
 
 LITERARY INSTITUTION. 
 
 The Committee of the above Institution, have the honor to announce 
 that on Thursday Evening next, December 7th, 1854, a LECTURE on 
 the Capabilities, Rights, and Treatment of the Blind, will be delivered by 
 JOHN BIRD, ESQ., (Member of the College of Surgeons, England.") 
 who is himself Blind. 
 
 SYLLABUS. 
 
 The duty of Society to enquire into the present and past condition of 
 that section of waste mind imprisoned, and too often degraded and pau- 
 perised, by Blindness, as a just and necessary step towards reclaiming it, 
 by restoring the Blind to the elevating privileges of Life viz : Social 
 intercourse, useful labour, intellectual, moral, and religious culture, kept 
 alive, invigorated and expanded, by its only possible means A constant 
 supply of adequate motive, and the opportunity of sustained application. 
 
 The Lecture will embrace a cursory glance at the various conditions 
 of Mental imprisonment, either from Paralysis or loss of sense, Paralysis 
 or loss of limb, defective education, isolation or penal restraint : and in 
 particular from Blindness, and the diseases of mind and body, as well as 
 the social degradation, too frequently the lot of those whom enlightened 
 philanthropy has not reached, contrasted with the high intellectual attain- 
 ments, social utility, respect and independence, secured by others, who 
 in ancient times, as well as at the present day, have enjoyed a happier 
 fate. Biographical Sketches in proof of the above, and a scheme for the 
 elevation of the hitherto neglected Blind, explained and earnestly advo- 
 cated, not merely on sound principles of Political Economy, but on the 
 higher grounds of Human Rights and Christian Duty. 
 
 According to the Census of 1 851, there were in Great Britain, Ireland, 
 and the British Isles, 29,074 Blind: i.e., Males, 14,061; Females, 14,213; 
 viz., London, 2,305 ; the rest of England. 14,598; Ireland, 7,587; Scot- 
 land, 3,010; Wales, 1,403; British Isles, 171. 
 
 By the Census of 1853, It was ascertained that the number of Blind 
 in France amounted to 38,62. 
 
 According to the last Report of the Brighton Blind School, it has 
 been computed that there were in existence from ten to fifteen millions 
 of Blind, and that a hundred and sixty thousand die annually, more or 
 less Instructed and Elevated, or Neglected and Degraded. 
 
 Dr. Augustus Zeiine, Director of the Blind Institution at Berlin, 
 states that the proportion of the Blind to the Sighted increase as we ap- 
 proach the equator. The ratio of the Blind to the Sighted between the 
 50th and 70th parallels of Latitude, he states to be 1 in 1,056; between 
 the 40th and 50th. 1 in 800; between the 30th and 40th, 1 in 277; and 
 between the 20th and 30th, 1 in 100. The greatest part of our East India 
 possessions lie between the 10th and 25th parallels of Latitude, and the 
 Rate of Blindness in a population of nearly 125,000,000 must be immense, 
 all of whom, in addition to those in the West Indies, Africa, Aus- 
 tralia, the Ionian Islands, and our North American possessions, have a 
 right to look to the English Government for enquiry, that the amount, 
 nature, and extent of the evil might plead its own cause, and that the ex- 
 ample of the British public at home may point out the most successful 
 course to be adopted by those philanthropists who would wish to extend 
 the blessings of this hitherto neglected branch of civilization to those 
 afar olF.
 
 THE GLOBE; 
 THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 26, 1857. 
 
 Jnfbe Medical College at Epsom, but that be refuseaTBe- 
 ertakiugan active aud self- 
 
 UTOBIOGRAPHY OF BLIND JAMES WILSON, ouimence a sort of central 
 With a Prefatory Essay by JOHN BIRD (BLIND), nation connected with the 
 M.R.C.S.E., and Day's Pensioner. Ward and fellow-sufferers. He may 
 took,' London. (us powers, but there is no 
 
 This edition of the life of the well-known " blind 1 which he speaks of the 
 toes Wilson," of Belfast, who was himself the bio- fo ? a % e . an <} infirmity, nor 
 I, *W vv''v j ri_-i i.r iu seivea justly denominated 
 
 ^pher of the blind, derives a fresh interest from the those whom he qilotes as 
 
 my which precedes it. The essay is written by helter them in their need, 
 dther blind man, one of the medical profession, who, Tiake their cry heard above 
 Lefall vigour of life, was ten years ago deprived 3 man /- All we can clearly 
 
 resent condition is one of 
 eight. He desires to offer out of his own sad expe- ^ iso i at i on> aud that to 
 
 jpoe same suggestions respecting the mode of edu- |g deafness may be added. 
 ting the blind, and their moral treatment, which he 
 
 he can better do than the " five-sensed," fe th 
 
 necessarily judge of the wants of the bliad ^b^.S&S'S'S 
 without, and however strongly _ they may ^ of thought, congesting 
 
 their deprivation, cannot feel with them. 
 Bird also urges a statistical inquiry into 
 eater* u>f those diseases, both bodily and men- 
 ,1, to which the blind may be peculiarly liable, 
 so vitb a view to precautionary treatment. The 
 >int, which he urges with an earnestness painfully 
 igges\ive of his own peculiar suffering, is the desir- 
 )lem;3i of keeping the blind as much as possible 
 nong the five-sensed of his age; to educate thc-n 
 nong other children, receiving only these lessons 
 
 ?arately\ which must be adapted to their deprivation. 
 ey peed, more than others, to have their faculties 
 imulited, which can only be adequately done by 
 >8ocutiou with those gifted with all the sens,es. In the 
 Biily Mr. Bird still more earnestly entreats that 
 le blind member may be permitted and en- 
 luraced to join as much as possible in all the 
 icupitions and enjoyments of the domestic circle, 
 e, like other persons, should be encouraged and aided 
 to live at the top of his intellect," and neither like a 
 lild to be perpetually humoured aud petted, nor duped 
 id deceived as if deficient in general intelligence as 
 ell as in one particular sense. That much can be 
 complished by the blind, each yearly report shows ; 
 
 gain refer to those circum- 
 degree forced me to the 
 ipinions. Those who have 
 f the amenities of life ever 
 , or the disruption of the 
 ill be the more likely to 
 d : and those who 
 ' spend ysars in the too I 
 
 darkness of blindness, j 
 , and irregular supplies 
 will not understand the 
 
 the depths of memory 
 surface by conversation; 
 ed, regular, and consistent 
 d the bewildered and ex- 
 tnost ever reeling in doubt 
 certainty, the consciousness 
 ?ly evidenced by gradually 
 ie certain decrease of the 
 ng or arresting, in addition 
 Durable season of the year, 
 mbs and blocks out sensa- 
 eaving me in the spring 
 ons each succeeding year, 
 y the generous and just as 
 boured and otherwise de- 
 
 it the present writer does not urge employment solely 
 
 r its own sake, but as a means of preventing the med by such a statement, 
 
 dreadful stagnation" of the mind, uncheered by the hii 
 
 ijoyments of sight. There is a strong and most painful 
 
 irsonal feeling pervading the essay, but the writer's 
 
 story is not given with sufficient clearness to enable 
 e public to judge of the merits or demerits of the case. 
 
 r gatherthathisfriendswouldhave secured him a home - 
 
 little publication will 
 iclioration of the con- 
 
 r, but that this particular 
 al sympathy as may bring 
 
 y and mind.
 
 
 
 t- 

 
 *:': 
 
 pj^ 
 
 i 
 
 " I, DARK IK LIGHT, EXPOSED 
 
 TO DAILY FRAUD, CONTEMPT, ABUSE, AND WRONO, 
 WITHIN DOORS OR WITHOUT, STILL AS A FOOL, 
 IN POWER OF OTHERS, NEVER IN MY OWN ; 
 SCARCE HALF I SEEM TO LIVE, DEAD MORE THAN 1
 
 . THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 BLIND JAMES WILSON, 
 
 AUTHOE OF THE "LIVES OF THE USEFUL BLIND;" 
 
 IJrelhnraarg fissag on fyis a giit, Character, attb S&arii 
 
 AS WELL AS ON 
 
 THE PRESENT STATE OF THE BLIND. 
 
 JOHN BIBD, 
 
 (BLIND,) 
 
 MEMBER OF THE COLLEGE OF SURGEONS, ENGLAND, 
 
 AND 
 
 DATS PENSIONER. 
 
 Let but their friends reflect the substance, and the blind will not miss the shadow; but if 
 the ear of the blind be deceived, and their confidence betrayed by the suppression, distortion, or 
 perversion of truth, no poison can be more deadly, though it* fatal process may be slow, and no 
 agony more intense, though its cause and effects may be unsuspected and unseen. 
 
 LONDON: 
 WAKD AND LOCK, 158, FLEET STREET. 
 
 1856.
 
 [THE Writer of the following Essay begs to inform the reader that 
 the cause of many errors and imperfections of style must be attributed to 
 his being blind, and his only assistant being a young man, a novice at 
 writing and correcting for the press.] 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 WILSON'S early Life and Struggles. Aids derived from others, and 
 
 Reflections suggestive, &c i 
 
 The more enlightened System of Social Education now introduced 
 into the Parisian Schools advocated, and the Evils of the more 
 barbarous Exile System exposed, &c xii 
 
 Music not always a Means of Support, &c xvi 
 
 Lamenting supposed Incapacity, without pointing out Capacity, A 
 
 pernicious Habit, &c. . . xvii 
 
 Analysis of the leading Characters in Jamea Wilson's larger Work, 
 
 " Lives of the Useful Blind," &c xviii 
 
 Diseases of the Blind never yet noticed, but ought to be ; not so much 
 with the View to cure as to their Prevention, &c. Number of Blind 
 and Insane in Asylums never yet noticed, &c. .... xxi 
 
 The above Omissions ought to be immediately supplied by Lecturers 
 
 on Medicine and Surgery xxii 
 
 Dr. Howe, of Boston, on the Home for the Blind, Quinze-Vingt, at 
 
 Paris, and Day's Charitable Fund, &c xxiv 
 
 Sermons for the Blind : the celebrated one of the Rev. Sydney Smith . xxvi 
 
 The Observations of His Royal Highness Prince Albert on the Want 
 
 of more general Cultivation of the Mental Sciences . . . xxx 
 
 Evils of Falsehood in arresting the Growth and Expansion of the 
 Mental Powers and Social Attachments of the Blind a certain 
 Cause of their Decline, if not Destruction .... xxxi 
 
 '0
 
 VI CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The beneficial Effects of simple and plain Truth in elevating the 
 
 Blind xxxiii 
 
 The Cause of the Blind too much in the Hands of the insufficiently 
 
 Educated ......... .. .xxxiv 
 
 A Centre of Communication, independent of these baneful Influ- 
 ences, proposed . . .'..'. V ; "."'* . ibid. 
 
 Evils of the Sectarian Spirit, 4c. xxxv 
 
 The Female Blind less isolated from their Equals than Males . xxxviii 
 Conditions necessary to Mental Health, from the Rev. James M'Kee's 
 
 Report, Chaplain to the Northampton Hospital for the Insane . ibid. 
 Greater Imprisonment of the Blind in Whiter Months, from the less 
 
 sensitive if not paralysed Sensation of Skin and Fingers . . xli 
 
 Almshouses and other Oubliettes xliii 
 
 Statistics of the Blind in Great Britain and Ireland, and the Duty of 
 
 more accurate Inquiry . . . . .*,,. xlv 
 
 Predominance of Blind in the Counties of Wilts, Somerset, Dorset, 
 
 Devon, Ac. . -.".-; . . -* ;.*.':.: . ibid. 
 
 Valuable Information in the Irish Census . . . ' -. - t ..^ . xlvi 
 The Fictions and Fancies of Poets, and other five-sensed Imagina- 
 
 tives, mischievous . . . . ibid. 
 
 Blindness described by the Blind themselves .,..-. . . xlvii 
 Autobiography of James Wilson . ; . -. '.>. ji. ',' , ; 1 to 108
 
 pftness in $nj$gmis an& pwsitg 
 
 " BUT kings and peers, or ladies of high birth, 
 Feel not the sting like humbler sons of earth; 
 Blindness to them is but a partial ill, 
 That wounds them deeply, but it does not kill 
 The sweet enjoyments of domestic life, 
 Or fill their loving hearts with care and strife. 
 Want and its sorrows are by them unfelt, 
 Save when for others' woes they pitying melt, 
 And to the aching heart, oppress'd with grief, 
 Like angels, they administer relief. 
 No kindred hearts from them are turned away ; 
 For gold, that glittering bamble, gilds their clay, 
 And with its yellow dross it smooths the road, 
 And makes endurable their dark abode. 
 
 Not thus the sons of labour are repaid 
 
 For buried hopes, when from their eyelids fade 
 
 The glorious beams of God's eternal light ; 
 
 But all becomes one dark, chaotic night, 
 
 Whence dismal dreams of cares and want and woe 
 
 Prove sad realities such as few know, 
 
 Save those who feel them." 
 
 From " Blindness," a poem by Edmund White, to be had of the author, 
 8, St. James's-place, Prince's-road, Notting-hill, London. Price 2s. 6d. 
 
 E White, five years since, at the age of forty, became blind, after ten 
 years' constant duty as one of the guards on the Great Western Railway. 
 He is the second guard I have become acquainted with on that line who has 
 lost his sight. On White's dismissal and application for assistance he was 
 given ten pounds, and offered another ten if he would sign an agreement 
 never to applv for more. Feeling he had a claim for long and active 
 service, as well as good character, he declined it. He is self-educated, and 
 contributes to the support of a numerous young family by his pen. J. B. 
 
 By the same author, preparing for the press, " The Genius of the Blind," 
 a Poem. Price 2s. 6d. Published by subscription.
 
 " Man, in his civil capacity, is a citizen of two republics, of which the 
 one is material, the other intellectual. The old man ceases to belong to the 
 first of these whe.a his organic principle refuses to perform its wonted func- 
 tions as in days past; he becomes nought but a parasite, and may reason- 
 ably dread the fate of the drones when their presence is no longer required 
 by the working-bees. In the intellectual republic, however, he still pre- 
 serves his rank and rights, and may, if he choose, do so up to the latest term 
 of his existence. The truth of the ' insenescence of the intellectual principle ' 
 becomes thus an appeal, not only to his self-respsct, but likewise to that 
 innate sense of duty which regulates every conscientious man, and whispers 
 in his ear, that no opinions capable of proving useful to humanity at large 
 ought to be buried in the tomb." PROFESSOR LORDAT, of Montpelier. Dr. 
 F. WINSLOW'S Journal of Psychological Medicine, July, 1852. 
 
 " The man who discovers, and who is guilty of seeing further than his 
 neighbours, is a delinquent whom human nature in its frailty too often feels 
 bound to punish ; and he who cannot meet suspicion, and even contempt, 
 with philosophical disregard, and who does not feel that, in the enunciation 
 of a truth, he is speaking in suggestive language to generations unborn, must 
 fail to maintain that spirit within him necessary to the full development of 
 the faculties bestowed upon him by nature." DR. G. OWEN REES'S Oration 
 delivered before the Hunterian Society, 1854.
 
 AN ESSAY 
 
 ON 
 
 THE LIFE, CHARACTER, AND WRITINGS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 BLIND JAMES WILSON. 
 
 "And thus the wonders of one age become the common elements of 
 education in the next." Mr. J. HODGSON'S Hunterian Oration. 
 
 "It may be taken for granted that a community cannot act right 
 towards a class without ultimately elevating itself; nor can it act wrong 
 towards any portion of its members without perpetuating or promoting 
 social evils,"perhaps the very evils it ia anxious to eradicate." HOVENDEN 
 on Crime and Punishment. 
 
 IN the few pages of a preface* it is impossible for me to do justice 
 to the memory of James Wilson and the value of his writings, in 
 any degree proportionate to the esteem and gratitude I myself, in 
 common with other blind, feel for his character and labours. I 
 would I had space and opportunity for that tribute of respect which 
 is his due, and which could be no other than a careful analysis of 
 the events of his life, his character, and the importance of the work 
 he must have devoted so much of his time and of the energy of his 
 intellect so successfully to accomplish. The far greater proportion 
 of the influence of the labours of some very useful and excellent 
 men is expended in their own day, whilst the far greater part of 
 others is to be felt when they have passed on, and are beyond the 
 reach of that recognition and aid, mental repose or refreshment, 
 which they needed so much in their darkened and exhausting toil. 
 The labours of James Wilson are evidently of this last and higher 
 class. He has shown how much can be achieved by a well- 
 regulated mind and a resolute will, by firmness of purpose, and 
 obedience to the higher dictates of conscience, however much they 
 
 The original design was a preface, but, as the subject advanced, it was 
 found advisable to enter at greater length, and give it the more complete 
 form of anjissay.
 
 AN ESSAT ON 
 
 may interfere with the caprices or crotchets of the well-meaning, 
 but not far-sighted. 
 
 This autobiography, originally prefixed, in its gradually en- 
 larged state, to the four different editions of that valuable, but 
 not sufficiently known work, " The Biography of the Blind," ap- 
 peared, for the fifth time during the author's lifetime, in a separate 
 form, in the year 1842 ; and it is now, after a lapse of fourteen 
 years, again brought forward, in the hope of awakening public 
 attention to a just appreciation of this blind man's life and labours, 
 and the importance of the cause he has so ably aided. 
 
 From the ninth to the thirteenth page the reader will find the 
 opinions of the press on Wilson's work, at the time his last, the 
 fourth, edition appeared, every one of which speaks most favour- 
 ably of it, and several, from personal knowledge, in just com- 
 mendation of the man himself. But the blind man, as he hears 
 these extracts read, feels a sickening chill and a temporary de- 
 pression at the little recognition of their long-neglected state, 
 their deeper sufferings, and consequently the deeper value of this 
 book. Few people, as they pass an individual blind man or 
 woman of their acquaintance, imagine that there are in the 
 United Kingdom 30,000 so imprisoned, and that it has been com- 
 puted that there are in existence among the population of the 
 world from ten to fifteen millions, 160,000 of whom die annually ; 
 and as few attempt to form any conception of what must be the 
 condition of that mind, chafing, stagnant, or festering, when those 
 on whom the blind man depends for his animal wants, as well as 
 mental health and development, have neglected to bring their 
 relative or friend within the range and reach of those influences 
 by which the means of compensation benevolently provided by 
 the Deity should be brought into action ; for, as Dr. Chalmers, 
 in that first and best of the "Bridgewater Treatises," Las pointed 
 out the design, wisdom, and benevolence of the Deity in the 
 adaptation of the external world to the intellectual and moral 
 development of man, so does it stand to reason that, if the neces- 
 sary amount of the means of health, growth, and exercise be not 
 transmitted through the four remaining senses, the intellectual 
 and moral faculties must wither, collapse, and decay ; and that, if 
 the judgment have no opportunity of duty, and the conscience 
 no opportunity of responsibility, and the animal portion of man 
 be the only part fully nourished, then will the appetites have un- 
 disturbed supremacy. A searching inquiry into the condition of 
 the neglected blind in their various grades will bring much to 
 light that ought to be known, but is little suspected. Let those 
 who are conversant with the pernicious effects of long-continued 
 silence and isolation on the felon extend their benevolence to 
 those who endure a less degree of silence and isolation, but the 
 more deadly because continued for a longer time, aggravated by
 
 BLIND JAMES WILSON. xi 
 
 darkness, and whose term of imprisonment, unless cheered by the 
 approach of enlightened humanity, must be for life. Twelve 
 years since, when in practice as a surgeon, I had good testimonials 
 from men well known in the profession of my fitness for the office 
 for which I was then a candidate, that of one of the resident sur- 
 geons for the Middlesex Asylum at Hanwell. For the last ten 
 years I have been blind; and, during the greater part of that 
 period I have devoted my best energies to a serious inquiry into 
 the mental condition of those who suffer from blindness and its 
 consequent evils, especially when aggravated by adversity and 
 its excommunicating influence ; and, unknown as I am, I can 
 assure the more serious readers that the evils are not overdrawn, 
 but require a searching inquiry by minds competent to the task, 
 because they cannot be brought forward, and are either un- 
 suspected or unnoticed by the sentimentalist or insufficiently 
 educated, who take too prominent a lead in the affairs of the 
 blind. Having alluded to the intellectual and moral condition of 
 the blind, I will add a few words on the tendency of prolonged 
 and neglected blindness to influence their religious state. From 
 the necessary briefness of my remarks, they may appear insufficient 
 and incomplete; still I see the necessity of directing the attention 
 of the more serious to this point, and I trust my motives in 
 so doing will be understood. Every one knows that the un- 
 healthy or unbalanced mind is not in the fittest state to understand 
 or develop the spirit of religion, and that, if it have no oppor- 
 tunity of a single act or duty in life with his fellow-man, that the 
 idea of responsibility will decline, and at the same time the active 
 desire to seek opportunity will decline also, if he have ever pre- 
 sent to his mind the paralysing conviction that his fellow-man 
 does not see the serious importance of affording to him these 
 opportunities and aids. The organisation for hearing is as useless 
 to the blind, if his fellow-man will not pour in the daily and ade- 
 quate amount of truth, as the cup or other drinking vessel in the 
 parched-up desert, where no water is to be found. 
 
 Dr. Guillie, in his work on the Blind (which was translated into 
 English in 1819, and dedicated to Dr. Jenner, and a copy of which 
 is seldom to be found by those who want it), enters at some length 
 on the question of the tendency of the blind to atheism ; and those 
 who are familiar with the writings of Prescott know how thoroughly 
 established was the atheism of the renowned blind Dr. Nicholas 
 Saunderson, and his reasons for it given on his death-bed. "Alas!" 
 said the dying philosopher, " I have been condemned to pass my 
 life in darkness, and you speak to me of prodigies which I cannot 
 comprehend, and which can only be felt by you, and those who see 
 like you I" When reminded of the faith of Newton, Leibnitz, and 
 Clarke, minds from whom he had drank so deeply of instruction, 
 and for whom he entertained the profoundest veneration, he re- 
 
 62
 
 XII A3 ESSAY OS 
 
 marked, " The testimony of Newton is not so strong for me as that 
 of nature was for him. Newton believed on the word of God 
 himself, whilst I am reduced to believe on that of Newton." He 
 expired with tliis ejaculation on his lips : " God of Newton, have 
 mercy on me ! " * 
 
 The atheism of Saunderson was, undoubtedly, due to a very 
 common cause, the exclusive study of the physical sciences ; but 
 there is another kind of absence of religious feeling to which those 
 blind are predisposed whose mental powers are exhausted, and whose 
 memories fail to revive at will any objects of the external world from 
 which they have been too long estranged, and which are seldom 
 revived by serious or sincere conversation ; when they have been 
 thrust too much into obscurity, kept in the dark as to the events 
 of life, omitted or excluded from intercourse with their own circle, 
 and never admitted into fresh fellowship with any other. The 
 constant exercise of the imagination, ever scheming and endeavour- 
 ing to make themselves understood, and to invent the means of 
 regaining and of being restored to the privileges of life, produces 
 in the end that exhaustion to which I have before alluded, and a 
 correct idea of which is as little likely to be conceived by those in 
 five-sensed health, as the horrors of the South Sea scurvy in olden 
 time could be conceived by an amateur sailor whose yacht never 
 left the Channel. A blind man may feel fully convinced that idea* 
 do not fade away from the memory, but that when once clearly 
 conceived they merge into, form a part of, and expand the insenes- 
 cent and indestructible mind ; yet, if he be left too long in silence, 
 isolation, and darkness, without the necessary refreshment, and 
 repose, and hope from confidence in the sincerity of his friends, the 
 accumulated effects of such treatment will, in a longer period, 
 produce a degree of derangement or disease analogous to that 
 which falls on the felon, whose silence and isolation -without 
 darkness has been more severe in a shorter time. 
 
 The importance of this question will, I believe, be a sufficient 
 excuse for my laboured attempt to explain it. I have taken this 
 opportunity of pointing out the evils consequent on too much exile 
 and exile education, when we have so excellent an example before 
 us of the benefit and blessings of the very opposite condition in the 
 life of James Wilson. 
 
 At the commencement of his career, no state could have been, 
 apparently, more unpromising than that of a blind and friendless 
 orphan being landed at Belfast and left solely to the care of the 
 parochial officers. Yet, as we trace his own simple and truthful 
 narrative, we see the child gradually developed into boyhood, and 
 thenceforward to man's estate, respected for his probity, sustained 
 by his conscientiousness, successful in his undertakings, and, in the 
 
 , Prescott's Essays. Bentley, 1854. Page 48.
 
 BLIND JAMES WILSON. Xlll 
 
 end, conferring a blessing on mankind to an extent not yet fully 
 foreseen. This series of developments could never have taken 
 place had they at any time been interrupted by five or six years' 
 imprisonment in an exile school ; that simultaneous education of 
 his sighted friends and playmates to understand and recognise his 
 capacity would never have gone on, pari passu, with the growth of 
 his own daily greater efficiency, till, by such intercourse, he was 
 fully established as a useful and valuable member of society. This 
 view becomes the more important, as enlightened philanthropists 
 have at last discovered that which the blind themselves, as well as 
 the more highly educated deaf and dumb, have long felt to be the 
 greatest evil, the greatest barrier to their social rights and the 
 higher privileges of life ; I mean the evils of exile schools for their 
 education. Inquiry has long proved the small per centage of 
 those thus educated who are ever capable of self-support. I believe 
 I am not far wrong in stating that at the expensive exile establish- 
 ment, the School for the Blind, at the end of Blackfriars-road, in 
 St. George's Fields, where nearly 2,000 a year is expended in 
 salaries and wages alone, seldom more than seven or eight per 
 cent, are capable of keeping themselves above and free from private 
 or public pauperism ; and, when the Abb6 Carton, in the year 1836, 
 presented his Report to the Minister for Foreign Affairs for Belgium 
 on the state of the Blind and Blind Schools in England, he therein 
 stated that the per centage at the Ecole de Jeunes Aveugles in 
 Paris, was even less, only amounting to five per cent, of the num- 
 ber educated. Circumstances remained for nearly twenty years 
 unchanged, but at length a new system and brighter hopes have 
 dawned on the blind of France ; for, whilst Dr. Hubert Valleroux 
 has pointed out the defects and very limited success of the expen- 
 sive establishments for the exile education of the deaf and dumb, as 
 well as the blind, Dr. Blanchet has developed a scheme on the more 
 humane and philosophic principle of social education, as will be 
 seen by the following, translated from La Patrie, Oct. 15th, 1855 : 
 
 " The Societe Generals cF Assistance et de Patronage for the deaf 
 and dumb and blind children, founded by Dr. Blanchet, surgeon 
 to the Imperial Institution of the Deaf and Dumb of Paris, and of 
 which Her Majesty the Empress is the protectress, have recently 
 obtained the most encouraging results they could possibly expect. 
 
 " Six classes had been established at different places in Paris 
 by the exertions of the originator of the scheme for the elevation of 
 the blind, the deaf and dumb, and the weak of intellect. The 
 Conseil Municipal of Paris have recently decided, by the advice of 
 the Conseil Departmental de I' Instruction Publique de la Seine, on 
 recognising, as Etablissements Communaux, four of the classes 
 created by the society in the primary schools, under the superin- 
 tendence of the Freres des Ecoles Chretiennes, and have voted 
 3,000 francs to meet the expenses of the year 1856.
 
 XIV AM ESSAY ON 
 
 " The establishment of these classes in France is intended to 
 solve the problem which the education of the blind as well as of 
 the deaf and dumb presented. Up to this time it has been in 
 special establishments, and in expensive private boarding schools, 
 where the children are isolated from the society of the speaking 
 community, and from the world in which they must afterwards 
 live, that the blind and the deaf and dumb have been educated 
 and instructed. In this new scheme, the blind and the deaf and 
 dumb are received into the primary schools, as well as five-sensed 
 children. They receive the same instruction ; they mingle with 
 the other children in all the corporeal exercises which can allow 
 it, and only during the intervals of school hours they receive 
 separate instruction in the branches for which their different defi- 
 ciencies require a special mode of teaching. 
 
 " A third form, in addition to the two former, is reserved for 
 those who have the threefold affliction of being blind as well as 
 deaf and dumb, and for the weak of intellect. 
 
 "This system, so economical, ensures immense advantages, by 
 enabling us to impart instruction to all the blind and deaf 
 and dumb, as well as to the other unfortunates to whom we have 
 alluded." 
 
 Years since, reflecting on my own experience and the informa- 
 tion I had gained from my inquiries into the fate of other blind, 
 I suggested a scheme similar to this, but for the middle classes, at 
 King's College, University College, and others, in opposition to a 
 proposed college on the exile system, which has been set on foot 
 by a gentleman sincerely devoted to the cause, but being one of 
 the unsuflering five-sensed, and biased from long connection with 
 and as the director of one of the schools on the old plan, he has 
 not taken that larger view of the inevitable results of the unsocial - 
 ising system he advocates. 
 
 It might be said I have omitted the sustaining influence the 
 blind may derive from reading the Scriptures in relief type. If 
 the blind have not sufficient opportunity of action the mind will 
 collapse, and with this collapse will decline the pleasure of 
 reading those sentences which are the most lively memen- 
 toes of the opportunities of action and conduct which we desire, 
 but are denied ; for the helm that is so powerful when the vessel 
 has steerage way, is useless when the ship is becalmed. Besides, 
 the contending systems of relief type must be examined and ad- 
 vanced to one of greater perfection ; but this will never be till the 
 private interests of partisans for a particular system, and sighted 
 partiality for the old alphabet, invented for and adapted to the eye, 
 no longer interfere with the sole and ardent wish of the blind, for 
 which they are ever contending with sighted opponents, an al- 
 phabet more philosophically adapted to perception through the finger. 
 Sighted teachers and amateurs appear never to have imagined the
 
 BLIND JAMES WILSON. XV 
 
 possibility of the increased alteration of the shape of the sentient 
 part of the finger, from the section of a smaller curve in child- 
 hood to a much larger or flatter state in matured life. This over- 
 sight will account for so many not reading in after life, whose 
 little fingers in early years dipped into, traced, and distinguished 
 forms and peculiarities afterwards impossible. 
 
 It does not fall to the lot of every blind person, as it is too 
 commonly conceived, to feel the force, the animating and sustaining 
 influence, of that inner light of which Milton boasted, and which he 
 so pre-eminently enjoyed. Had Milton been left in the isolation, 
 silence, and darkness which so many of us too well and have too 
 long known, without the opportunities of the import of impres- 
 sions through the ear by reading and conversation with such men 
 as were worthy of Milton's acquaintance, as well as the oppor- 
 tunities of the export of will, by the ready writer recording faith- 
 fully his thoughts, and the efficient friend willingly and faithfully 
 executing his wish, we should indeed have had a very different 
 style of composition from that which is now the boast of our 
 country. How few blind, especially those in adversity, can, like 
 Milton, boast u I find my friends even more than ever kind ; 
 they are my consolers, mourners, visitors, and assistants : those of 
 the highest consideration in the republic do not desert me." 
 
 To these health-sustaining influences may we attribute much 
 of the unfailing vigour of Milton's mind ; and in reviewing the life 
 and character of James Wilson, it is pleasing to observe how un- 
 failing attention and the enlightened and well-directed benevo- 
 lence of his equals and superiors, tended in a corresponding de- 
 gree, their position and education being considered, to develop, 
 cheer, and elevate the mental powers, and to direct the manly 
 efforts of the orphan stranger in Belfast. 
 
 A leading feature in the character of James Wilson is his 
 earnest and sincere sense of religion; and an amount of such 
 genuine confidence and benevolence gained from the busy, the use- 
 ful, and well-conducted intercourse with the good and the benevo- 
 lent in daily life, could never have been acquired in the solitary cell 
 of an exile establishment. One of the committee of the Black- 
 friars-road School, the companion of a blind nobleman, attributes 
 the freedom, the confidence, and dignity with which the blind 
 pupils of Barcelona move through the streets to the native spirit 
 of the Spanish character ; whilst I attribute it to their living 
 in their own homes, and the necessity of their daily going to the 
 public school, where they are socially educated, and not isolated 
 and locked up for a month, or months together, within the narrow 
 confines of their establishment. " There is a degree of cheerful- 
 ness and vivacity about the Spanish blind that surprised me ; they 
 seem less helpless than their northern brothers in affliction."* 
 
 " An Inquiry into the Musical Instruction of the Blind," p. 3. Mitchell, 
 Bond-street, 1855.
 
 XVI AN ESSAY ON 
 
 Had any one met Wilson on his rounds, my blind friend. Mr. 
 Cockburn, walking from Edinburgh to Glasgow in a day, or Joseph 
 Strong, the blind musician and organ builder, walking from that 
 city to London, one hundred years since, to visit the blind organist 
 at the Temple Church, Mr. Stanley ; or had any one met, a few 
 months since, the blind Thomas Scholfield, on his walk from Lan- 
 cashire to London, they would not, in either case, have met with 
 less courage and confidence in the northern than the writer ob- 
 served in the blind of Barcelona at the present day. 
 
 The observation of James Wilson on the ill effects of, trusting 
 to music as a means of support for the blind, and his reasons for 
 discontinuing it, are well worth the serious attention of all who 
 are so eager to force that art on every one who has lost his sight. 
 The warning of the chaplain of the Blackfriars-road School, St. 
 George's Fields, in a recent report, should be read and attended 
 to, as well as another warning from that genuine friend of the 
 blind, Dr. Howe, of Boston, who reminds the blind and their 
 friends that after the novelty of the wonder is over, the blind 
 will always find " that their music as well as their mattresses will 
 only fetch market price." Another event worthy of notice in the 
 life of James Wilson, because of its importance, was his matri- 
 monial alliance. Some adopt the Malthusian view from igno- 
 rance of what the blind have done and still do towards supporting 
 themselves and large families, who, in most cases, it will be found, 
 have proved good and useful members of society from the strength 
 and sincerity of the home ties, truth speaking, and confidence in 
 others in which they were trained and reared. Some adopt it, and 
 ignore truth for the convenience of self; others, that property 
 might, be nursed and taken care of for a sighted successor. To 
 any one inquiring into the history of the blind, no one truth will 
 be more frequently forced on his conviction than this, that most 
 of the distinguished blind owe the rank they have attained, and 
 the knowledge and confidence they have acquired, to the faithful 
 and watchful wife, ever communicating truth herself, and a constant 
 check on falsehood, deception, or trilling from others. The ex- 
 ample of the wife, and her control over others, contributed much 
 to the knowledge, confidence, and success of Hubert, Pfeffel, and 
 Delille, of Blacklock, Metcalf, and Rushton ; more especially, in 
 our own day, of the blind and paralysed historian, Augustin 
 Thierry. 
 
 On page 59, after describing the external objects of nature, 
 and the pleasing effects of their beauteous form, proportion, colour, 
 their varied relations, as well as their suggestive influences on the 
 mind, he concludes the whole in the following words : " But to the 
 blind these pleasures are unknown ; the charms of nature are con- 
 cealed under an impenetrable veil, and the God of light has 
 placed between him and silent but animated nature an inseparable 
 barrier."
 
 BLIND JAMES WILSON. XV11 
 
 Although this assertion is perfectly true as to the state of most of 
 us, who day after day feel our way alone from point to point with much 
 labour and great difficulty, and to whom the streets of the crowded 
 city, as we pass through unrecognised and unspoken to, are but the 
 paved paths of a dark and noisy, but barren waste : yet the case is 
 very different, and the thorough darkness can no longer be said to be 
 complete, when we perceive, through the ear, by the eye and voice of 
 an intelligent and truth-speaking friend. I am inclined to think that 
 the proneuess of too many to be ever quoting Milton's pathetic de- 
 scription of blindness has a great tendency to make people believe our 
 incapacity to be far greater than it really is, besides the certainty 
 of suppressing rather than of encouraging the idea of the possibility 
 of compensation through the other senses at every moment of oiir 
 existence, whenever the benevolent and sincere are willing to give 
 one of those short, precise, comprehensive, and direct sentences 
 which make us for the moment forget the want of the glance of the 
 eye. It was by such that Wilson himself must have stored his mind ; 
 that Holman collected the materials for his travels ; that Saunderson 
 formed those clear conceptions of objects, then- form, magnitude, 
 distance, and their relations, as well as of light and colour, by which 
 he was enabled to be the first to explain, from his chair, Newton' 3 
 theory of light and colour. It was by such aid from Ms fellow- 
 creature that Hubert made his observations on bees ; that the blind 
 camel-driver learned to convey in safety his caravan ; and that my 
 late friend, the blind Cuthbert, was enabled to cast, mould, figure, 
 and polish the specula of so many reflecting telescopes so as to 
 render them perfect, aided only by the eye, mind, and voice of his 
 constant friend till death, the late Mr. Smith, of Lambeth, who had 
 no other duty to perform than to describe the nature and defect of 
 the image of an object at a known distance, which by his next visit 
 was almost certain to be corrected. 
 
 Not only would the liability to accidents, such as Wilson describes 
 at the canal and at the well, be diminished almost to safety, but in a 
 thousand other/ instances the blind would find the advantage of 
 wearing on the hat or some other conspicuous part, a piece of 
 plated copper or silver with the word "blind." Till of late, it was my 
 custom to walk through the streets without any such notice, which 
 rendered my progress, in the crowded parts, a continued struggle, or 
 running foul of others, of ill-conditioned remarks and of apologies, per- 
 haps unheard. Sincel have adopted it, the change is so great, from the 
 marked attention and civility, that I pass through as if the streets were 
 almost empty. Tis true I miss those impressions, not altogether 
 unpleasant, of jostling in the crowded street, which relieves the 
 barrenness of the apparently uninhabited world ; but there is some 
 compensation and a feeling of gratitude when one reflects that its 
 absence is due to all-pervading benevolence. The blind and the 
 deaf and dumb should not hesitate to bring into general use a dis- 
 
 b3
 
 XV111 AN ESSAY ON 
 
 tinctive badge which effects so much good. It will soon be treated 
 with the same respect as spectacles or other instruments to remedy 
 serious imperfections, and after a little time, friends would object to 
 walk with those thus distinguished as little as with those more 
 strangely and needlessly decked, if not disfigured, in the streets of 
 the present day. 
 
 From the reviews to which I have before referred, no one 
 would imagine the "Biography of the Blind " had been written 
 with that high intent from so deep a conviction of its necessity as 
 evidently animated its author. At page 97 he gives good and 
 sound reasons for undertaking the collection of the lives and 
 labours of the numerous blind who have existed at all ages and 
 in every country. " I thought," writes Wilson, " that, if these 
 were collected together, and moulded into a new form, it might 
 not only become an amusing but a useful work, so far as it would 
 show what perseverance and industry could do in enabling us to 
 overcome difficulties apparently insurmountable." ..." My 
 chief object was to prove the energy of the human mind under 
 one of the greatest privations to which we are liable in this 
 life." Few works can be more amusing to those who read the 
 exciting and the interesting for the mere enjoyment of pleasur- 
 able perception or transient reverie ; but to those who seek 
 books of more serious import, which call into action the higher 
 faculties of the mind, by informing them of the opportunity 
 where duty and responsibility can find its work, every reader of 
 it, after a little reflection on our condition, our capacity for and 
 right to more elevating treatment, will pronounce this volume to 
 be one of standard excellence, and of more than national worth. 
 
 Of the first and third editions I have never met with a copy ; 
 but of the second, and especially the fourth,! have purchased many. 
 It has been my constant practice, through the kindness of friends, 
 to pick them up at second-hand shops or book-stalls, and to 
 transfer them to those friends or families of the blind where 
 they are always appreciated, or to libraries, or to the more sincere 
 and enlightened, where and on whom they are likely to exert a 
 beneficial influence hereafter. My chief motive in attempting 
 this analysis of the life and labours of Wilson, is the hope that it 
 may be the means of rescuing from that state of obscurity into 
 which at present it appears doomed to lapse, a volume of such 
 essential importance to the welfare of the blind, by proving, not 
 only to relatives and friends, but to the country at large, if the 
 blind have done so much hitherto by unsuspected talent and 
 individual effort, that a more general recognition of their capacity 
 and right ought to lay the foundation of a more general scheme 
 for their rescue from the low philozoic treatment which too many 
 attempt to defend as sufficient. For alms alone, and animal 
 comforts, however liberal the supply, and kill-time amusements,
 
 BLIND JAMES WILSON. XIX 
 
 are but philozoic treatment. But to arouse the intellectual 
 powers, and awaken the gratitude of man, his social affections 
 and higher aspirations, the treatment must be philanthropic. 
 
 In the fourth, or more complete edition, now out of print and 
 difficult to be met with, a work of 300 pages 12mo, there are 
 fuller biographies, short sketches or notices of between 50 and 60 
 intelligent, highly educated, or illustrious blind, a complete and 
 sufficient answer to the question the blind are doomed to hear 
 perpetually dinned into their ears in a tone of melancholy and 
 withering wail, quite sufficient to warn them that such speakers 
 will never be in the van of those who struggle to advance 
 their claims and arrest their degradation. One would almost 
 imagine that the ears of Milton himself must, in his darkness, 
 have been sometimes infested with the calamity-stop of the 
 human voice, ever on the swell, or he would not have given 
 utterance to that well-known phrase of the "scrannel-pipe," 
 which appears to be the only one employed when a certain class 
 put the question, which we not seeing suppose to be accompanied 
 with ominous nod and corresponding look, " Oh ! what can the 
 poor blind do ? " If such would read Wilson's " Biography," they 
 would learn the progress made in the highest sciences by Didymus 
 of Alexandria, blind from infancy ; by Nicholas Saunderson, 
 the Lucasian Professor of Mathematics at Cambridge, next in 
 the chair to Whiston, the successor to Sir Isaac Newton. They 
 would read of the accomplished Dr. Blacklock, the mason's son, 
 and of John Gough, of Kendal, whose accurate and precise 
 language might have had much to do in the formation of the 
 characters of those accurate observers and sound reasoners, once 
 his pupils, but long since national instructors ; for in a note to 
 the 78th page we learn that Dr. Whewell, of Trinity College, 
 Cambridge, Mr. Dawes, of Downing College, fourth wrangler in 
 his year, Mr. King, of Queen's College, senior wrangler, Mr. 
 Gaskin, of Jesus College, Cambridge, senior wrangler, and Dr. 
 Dalton, of Manchester, had all been pupils of this well-known 
 and highly esteemed blind schoolmaster of Kendal. 
 
 Homer and Milton, of course, are fully noticed, and Leonard 
 Euler, the philosopher and mathematician, whose property in 
 Prussia was respected by the express order of the Empress Cathe- 
 rine at the time her soldiers were carrying havock to, and not 
 respecting that of any one else. The lives of Zisca, the blind 
 patriot and soldier of Bohemia, whom the Emperor Sigismund 
 could not subdue, and John, the blind king of Bohemia, faithful 
 till death to his motto of " Ich Dien," are amongst the worthies 
 herein enumerated ; whilst, at the same time, truthful pictures are 
 drawn of those who have done much and laboured hard in less and 
 not immediate danger. Edward Rushton, of Liverpool, the friend 
 of the slave, the poet, and projector of the first school for the blind in
 
 England, that of Liverpool, in 1791 ; John Metealf, blind from 
 infancy, who, amongst other labours, measured the ground by the 
 inclination of his foot, contracted for, and made roads over the 
 Derbyshire hills ; rode his own horse, and won at a race ; raised 
 Colonel Thornton's troop, and was present as his trumpeter at Cul- 
 loden, during which latter event he had the greatest blessing of a 
 blind man, a wife, who, as she awaited his return, felt confident 
 that her blind husband would do his duty, if not succeed, in every 
 enterprise he had the confidence to undertake. From this book 
 also the reader will learn more especially from the copy of the 
 inscription on his monument that the blind physician, Dr. Hugh 
 James, of Carlisle, was not reproached for his determination not to 
 decline into amusements and occupations that must inevitably have 
 induced mental deterioration, but that he was aided by the oppor- 
 tunities of continuing in useful and elevated labour worthy of his 
 previous position and education, and that for a number of years, 
 like Dr. Mure of Edinburgh, he was justly esteemed for his skill 
 in the practice of his profession after he became blind : the pro- 
 ficiency and just estimation in which were held the two chemists, 
 natural philosophers, and lecturers, Dr. Henry Moyes and Mr. 
 Davidson of Dalkeith, the latter of whom in his blindness was a 
 worthy and favourite pupil of Dr. Black and Dugald Stewart. 
 The high power of perception by touch, and the skill and accuracy 
 of the hand of the blind, are here ably proved in the biography of 
 Jean Gonelli, whose marble statue of Cosmo I., Grand Duke of 
 Tuscany, and other successful efforts, are to be met with in the 
 Museums of Florence and Rome ; one or two casts of which, if 
 brought to this country, and exhibited at the Crystal Palace at 
 Sydenham, would do much to remove public prejudice, which denies 
 opportunity, and would teach parents and relatives not to check 
 and smother the endeavours of the struggling blind. Many are 
 the instances recorded in this volume of musicians, both as skilful 
 performers and erudite composers ; of blind mechanics, especially 
 of musical instruments, such as Strong, the organ builder of 
 Carlisle, Kennedy, and others, and the blind Talbot, the inventor 
 and manufacturer of the Irish Union pipes. The old Irish bards 
 are not forgotten Turlagh Carolan, Henry the blind minstrel, 
 and Denis Hampson, who tuned his harp just before he died, at the 
 age of 110 years. Wilson has also mentioned the lives and labours 
 of many blind clergymen and others, whom blindness has not pre- 
 vented from continuing their career, and some of the highest and 
 most responsible duties of life. 
 
 In this imperfect analysis I believe I have given sufficient to 
 prove that this important volume ought not to be allowed to 
 lapse into obscurity, but that its reprinting should be encouraged, 
 and that a copy ought to find its way into every public and paro- 
 chial library, and that families who either have or have had tbe
 
 BLIND JAMES WILSON. Xx 
 
 blind in their circle, ought to encourage the dissemination of and 
 familiarity with those books which give an impulse to the simul- 
 taneous education of society, to understand, receive, and assist the 
 blind in their endeavours to be useful, independent, and not in 
 the rear of, and estranged from, their equals in birth and educa- 
 tion. Should such a work reappear years hence, it would not be 
 difficult to follow it by another of the useful blind of our own 
 day of Alexander Rodenbach, the blind member of the Chamber 
 of Deputies for Belgium, who, in 1836, introduced, and succeeded 
 in establishing the law by which all the blind, and deaf and dumb 
 of that country are entitled to education ; of Louis Braille, the 
 inventor of the alphabet now used in France for writing and 
 music ; of Moon, of Brighton, whose printing-press is ever at 
 work ; of Platean, the blind philosopher of Ghent ; of poor Mon- 
 crieff, the dramatist, who, after having amused hundreds of thou- 
 sands with between two and three hundred acted dramas all 
 from his pen, is allowed to wear himself out in the ungenial soli- 
 tude of the Charter-house ; of Edmund White, the once railroad 
 guard, but now blind poet, whose young children are educating 
 themselves by their endeavours " to trace the thought of their father 
 ere it vanish in the thinking ; " and of Frances Brown, whose poetry 
 is too well known to need remark of mine. 
 
 James Wilson died a few years since, but of what disease I 
 know not. This important point, relative to the blind, has not yet 
 been sufficiently noticed. In all future records, however, I trust 
 this fact will be recorded, as, when collected, I feel assured they 
 will throw much light on the diseases to which we are liable, not 
 so much for the purpose of suggesting a cure as their prevention. 
 The diseases of which the blind die, and from which they suffer 
 long before death, are, physically, those resulting from indolence 
 and inactivity from the absence of object and motive and, men- 
 tally, those of impoverished, imprisoned, and unemployed mind, or 
 that irritability from incapacity when the needed information is 
 designedly or unintentionally withheld ; or the constant irritation of 
 thwarted will, the lot of those who are in the power of others, 
 especially the selfish and their inferiors. It is, therefore, imperative 
 on every sincere friend of humanity not to evade a duty by denying 
 the existence of an evil into which he has never inquired, but to 
 promote inquiry, that those suffering's may be relieved, and those 
 pernicious influences averted that embitter and shorten, whilst they 
 pervert the design of mental life. 
 
 An inquiry has never yet been made, but I trust it will not 
 be long before it will, into the number of blind who become 
 insane and end their days in lunatic asylums. There are 
 two in Hanwell ; several, I believe, at Colney Hatch ; one, if not 
 more, at Northampton. A little reflection on those causes which 
 lead to insanity in the blind will point out the hopelessness of
 
 XXH AN ESSAY ON 
 
 cure when once their imprisonment is aggravated by such un- 
 genial and irrational companionship. In the'sighted insane the 
 excessive action of morbid and unbalanced imagination withdraws 
 attention from the outposts of observation, or the five senses 
 which take cognisance of the objects of the external world ; any 
 attempt to attract either of them by their appropriate stimuli 
 fails ; but any indication of attention, especially when sufficiently 
 continued, affords the groundwork of the principal hope for coun- 
 teracting and diminishing the excessive action within ; but, should 
 this point not be attained, "vires acquirit eundo," and the imagi- 
 native powers gaining head, like the fly-wheel detached from the 
 wholesome resistance and restraint of the machinery, it whirls 
 itself to destruction, and becomes an irrecoverable wreck. 
 
 During the waking hours of the blind some one or more of the 
 mental faculties must always be engaged ; and when, by long exile 
 and the decline of friendship, or the death or the departure of 
 friends, and with them the means and opportunities of action, then 
 will aim, object, and ambition decline also. The blind in his soli- 
 tude is conscious of the constant whirl of his imagination on use- 
 less trifles and impossibilities, till in the end he become as imbecile 
 or insane, from the want of the object to attract, as the insane do 
 from the subjective disinclination to be attracted by the object. 
 
 The modern Socrates, as he was called, Moses Mendelssohn, 
 when his mind became bewildered and almost unbalanced by in- 
 tense and prolonged abstraction, used to correct the subjective 
 derangement by seeking the attraction of an external object. To 
 this end he looked from his window, and set himself to the task of 
 counting the rows of tiles on the old-fashioned, lofty, and high- 
 pitched German roof of his neighbour's house, which never failed 
 to restore the desired equilibrium. This bewildering tendency, so 
 painful and pernicious to the mental powers of the isolated and 
 neglected blind, is often felt by that highly educated deaf, dumb, 
 and blind girl, Laura Bridgeman, of Boston. Dr. Howe gives the 
 following instance in her own words. The solecisms of her 
 composition must be understood to result from her style not being 
 sufficiently corrected by hearing conversation. " I cannot stop to 
 think " (cease thinking) : "why cannot I stop to think? Does 
 Harrison stop to think ?" The last question was put to ascertain 
 if Harrison, the governor of Massachusetts, who had just died, 
 now ceased thinking. 
 
 In the long courses of lectures on the practice of medicine, as 
 well as those on surgery, generally extending from October till 
 March, there never has yet been found time, so far as I can learn, 
 to give the least attention to blindness and deaf mutism, as pro- 
 lific sources of serious and often fatal disease, not only to the body 
 but to the mental powers. This omission ought not longer to be 
 neglected : for, although the field of medicine is so extensive that
 
 BLIND JAMES WILSON. XX111 
 
 double the time could be well employed by a competent professor 
 without exhausting the subject, yet is there often, during the 
 time before named, many a lecture delivered of less importance to 
 science, the happiness of individuals, and the well-being of society, 
 than would be two such ones ; as one devoted to the hygienic and 
 curative treatment of the blind, and another of the same character 
 on the treatment of the deaf and dumb : and those who would con- 
 tinue to elevate the character of the English surgeon to a rank 
 worthy of the followers of Hunter and Abernethy, to such a point 
 as Mr. Joseph Henry Green, Mr. rfewnham, Sir Benjamin Brodie, 
 and others have so ably led the way, must no longer ignore, in their 
 treatment of the diseases of the organs of sight, hearing, and 
 speech, the existence and claims of the human mind when im- 
 prisoned by defect or imperfection of these necessary means for 
 mental circulation, for the constant alternation of the import of the 
 elements of thought with the export of the will in speech or other 
 muscular action. Too often has it been the custom of many who 
 treat diseases of the eye, when they have failed to keep open that 
 important channel of communication, to think no more of the mind 
 they have left imprisoned than the undertaker, when screwing down 
 the coffin, thinks of the destination and future condition of the 
 soul. 
 
 In the investigation of and in dogmatising on the diseases before 
 alluded to, care should be taken not to confound the consequences 
 of blindness with its causes. Although many of us may have the 
 " strumous diathesis," so frequently hinted with such tender pity, 
 yet I am convinced that enlightened inquiry will prove that the 
 results of ignorance, selfishness, and neglect, as manifested in the 
 bodies as well as the mental powers, weak, stunted, and unde- 
 veloped from the want of the appropriate stimuli and adequate 
 object, inducing, as it does, predisposition to bad health and in- 
 ability to resist those agencies which produce disease, are often 
 mistaken for and confounded with the " strumous diathesis." 
 
 Nor are these evils of neglect or ignorance confined to the 
 blind individual alone, as in many other cases it becomes an un- 
 failing source of other social evils which multiply themselves. When 
 the plan pursued is that of making a market of his calamity rather 
 than of his intellect, social degradation, mental decline, and bodily 
 disease are certain to follow. And he is not the only sufferer. It 
 brings down the shunned family also, especially those who devote 
 themselves the most faithfully to his fortunes. The plague spot of 
 private is as terrifying as that of public pauperism. On the other 
 hand, a very little inquiry into the present state of the blind will 
 prove the same as Wilson's "Biography," that where friends or 
 strangers devote themselves to the elevation of the intellect of the 
 blind, they not only elevate the man himself, but his family also; 
 and every one so aiding is repaid by the self-elevation his bene-
 
 JCX1V AN ESSAY ON 
 
 volent exertions hare secured. Thus we discover that by far the 
 greater number of the most distinguished blind have sprung from 
 the least wealthy and most necessitous classes. Forced to make 
 some endeavour, and their efforts ably seconded by their equals and 
 superiors to still higher enterprise, so soon as the existence of un- 
 suspected powers have been made manifest, they, as in the instances 
 of Saunderson, Blacklock, Metcalf, Rushton, and a host of others, 
 have all risen, and some, especially Rushton, have left their 
 families on the road to a high and honourable career after 
 them. But, if we look to the state of the blind of the middle 
 and more wealthy classes, we shall find, with the few honourable 
 exceptions of Thierry, Rodenbach, Arago, Hayter, and some 
 others, that they are for the most part doomed to waste of life 
 and useless amusements ; and that, either from a squeamish kind 
 of delicacy, selfishness, or family vanity, they are denied the 
 means and opportunities of mentalj development ; in fact, they 
 are cheated out of the privileges of life. To those who are so 
 very fond of praising those painted sepulchres, or national 
 oubliettes in which they would wish to imprison the blind for the 
 rest of their lives ; and where such people, say the blind, can 
 enjoy the sympathy of each other's society, leaving out of the 
 
 ?uestion age, rank, congeniality of mind, and previous education, 
 would ask, if men, and suffering from paralysis, confirmed 
 dropsy, or any other organic disease, how they would like to be 
 banished, leper-like, from the homes and circles which their 
 parents had built up for them, or which they themselves had 
 acquired by their own exertions when blessed with health in the 
 days of health and prosperity ? how they would like to be 
 banished from the cheerful intercourse of life and be consigned 
 to associate only with those similarly diseased ? Or, if females, 
 and suffering from cancer, how they would like expulsion from 
 home, and the doom of contemplating iu a cancer hospital the 
 various stages of the disease which is undermining with incessant 
 pain the powers of their own constitution. The blind of England 
 turn with gratitude to America, where a very different style of 
 doctrine prevails. Dr. Howe, of Boston, in his Report to the 
 Governor and State of Massachusetts, thus writes : " A comfort- 
 able home ! Would there were such for every blind Tiian ! But be 
 it remembered it must be such as would be a comfortable home for a 
 seeing man. Now, there never has been contrived, and there never 
 can be contrived, any institution and community to meet the 
 wants of the social nature, and gratify the yearnings of the soul, 
 as does the institution of the family ordained of God. No other 
 calls into play so many faculties and sentiments of the human 
 mind and heart ; no other elevates what is low, and purifies what 
 is seltish. Everything within its habitation, from hearth-stone to 
 roof-tree, becomes endeared to the indwellers by common interest
 
 BLIND JAMES WILSON. XXV 
 
 and common cares; woman spreads around her softening in- 
 fluence ; love, sanctified by marriage, becomes spiritual ; children 
 celebrate in it the joyful immortality of youth; brothers and 
 sisters are ever wearing within its walls the tender ties of affection, 
 which prepare their hearts for wider sympathy with mankind, 
 while, by continually drawing on the fountains of parental affection, 
 they prevent them from being chilled into selfi&ness even by the 
 winter of age. The family, indeed, furnishes the true elixir of 
 life, and prevents the race from growing old. 
 
 " The blind man may not be able to assume any of these tender 
 relations in his own person ; but, surely, for this very reason, he 
 should not be left in cold isolation of the heart, but have his affec- 
 tions and his sympathies kept alive and warm by surrounding him 
 with the genial atmosphere of domestic love. He has more need 
 than others of the comforts and joys of domestic relations. Hi3 
 infirmities increase, not lessen, his desire for them, and increase, 
 too, his capacity for their enjoyment. In all that regards hia moral 
 nature and his social affections he has capacities far higher than 
 the deaf mute higher even than those of ordinary men; for, 
 while Ms infirmity does not lessen the strength of those affections, 
 it increases his need and his desire for their exercise and enjoy- 
 ment." 
 
 When the site on which now stands the palace of the Louvre 
 was occupied by a fortified royal chateau, then standing without 
 the walls of Paris, the blind had erected in the adjoining wood of 
 Garenne their celebrated asylum the Quinze-vingt ; and in May, 
 1269, the benevolent Louis IX. contributed to their support by the 
 following grant, the original of which is still preserved in the 
 archives of that ancient fraternity : " Trigintur libras Pari- 
 sienses annui reditus ad opus potagii dedimus ac concessimus. " 
 Not many years since the well-known Mr. Charles Day made a 
 provision by annual pensions of from 12 to 20 each for such as 
 did not possess an income of 30 a year. The number of us thus 
 assisted is 273 ; but those who will take the trouble to read some 
 facts relative to the blind, but little known, in the preface of Mr. 
 Edmund White's poem on blindness, will find that, on a lady apply- 
 ing for him for the pension, the secretary informed her by letter 
 tliat there were already 2,500 applicants on the books waiting for 
 vacancies. More than once has the question appeared in the news- 
 papers : " What has become of the money which Mr. Day left to 
 build an asylum for the blind ? " Mr. Charles Day himself was 
 blind, and felt so keenly the cruelty of such exile establishments, 
 that not only in his will, but in conversation with those three friends 
 to whom he entrusted the distribution of this charity, he often 
 said, " Not one sixpence to be spent in bricks and mortar to build 
 a prison for the blind ; they are imprisoned quite enough already." 
 
 It has been my practice since my blindness to attend public
 
 XXVI AN ESSAY ON 
 
 meetings where the cause of the blind has been advocated, and 
 when opportunity has offered of listening to sermons preached in 
 their behalf; but I have never left any one of them without a 
 painful feeling of depression, as each succeeding instance warned 
 me how little our condition, capacities, wants, and inevitable future 
 were understood by our well-intentioned advocates. It makes us 
 writhe with irritation to hear sighted but thoughtless amateurs 
 talk of the happiness of the blind, as if the condition of transient 
 animation, consequent on our being restored for a short period to 
 human intercourse, were a sufficient proof of our being always in 
 the same cheerful state during the many hours of silence, indo- 
 lence, and gloom. As if at the commencement of the autumn the 
 gambles and free range of the pointer in the field were a proof 
 that he had been just as happy the many months preceding he had 
 been chained to his box ; or as if the hearty feeling of the famished 
 vagrant at some hospitable board were a proof that lie had been 
 well fed during his previous life of exposure and poverty. I have 
 even heard the chairman at an annual meeting at the Hanover-square 
 Rooms speak of the happiness of being blind as a preventive to and 
 a safeguard against those temptations to wickedness which assailed 
 the mind through the eye. This requires no comment. It is far 
 more gratifying to reflect how much we owe to Lady Holland, for 
 bringing to our notice, in the memoirs of her father, the late Rev. 
 Sydney Smith, the record of a sermon, almost, I believe, forgotten, 
 which he once preached, and, with as much insight and judgment 
 as zeal, truly advocated the cause of the blind. I have never heard 
 it approached, much less equalled or surpassed. In volume the 
 first of the " Memoirs," page 57, we read : " But how beautiful 
 were the serious moods of Sydney Smith ! What a fine fulness 
 and solidity they had, drawn from the strength and justice which 
 we believe to have been the ruling sense of his mind, and tempered 
 with the warmth of character of which we believe no man had a 
 larger share." This will be readily admitted by all, but by none 
 more than by those blind who shall have heard read through that 
 sermon which elicited the splendid eulogium of Dugald Stewart. 
 The following passages will prove the truth of my assertions : 
 " Consider the deplorable union of indigence and blindness, and 
 what manner of life it is from which you are rescuing these un- 
 happy people. The blind man comes out in the morning season to 
 cry aloud for his food ; when he hears no longer the feet of men 
 he knows it is night, and gets him back to the silence and famine 
 of his cell. Active poverty becomes rich ; labour and prudence 
 are rewarded with distinction ; the weak of the earth have risen 
 up to be strong ; but he is ever dismal, and ever forsaken. The 
 man who comes back to his native city, after years of absence, 
 beholds again the same extended hand into which he cast his boyish 
 alms; the self-same spot, the old attitude of sadness, the ancient
 
 BLIND JAMES WILSON. 
 
 cry of sorrow, the intolerable sight of a human being who hag 
 grown old in supplicating a miserable support for a helpless, muti- 
 lated frame ; such is the life these unfortunate children would 
 lead had they no friend to appeal to your compassion ; such are 
 the evils we will continue to remedy, if they experience from you 
 that compassion which their condition amply deserves. 
 
 " The author of the book of Ecclesiastes has told us that the 
 light is sweet, that it is a pleasant thing for the eyes to behold the 
 sun.* The sense of sight is, indeed, the highest bodily privilege, 
 the finest physical pleasure which man has derived from his Creator. 
 To see that wandering fire after he has finished his journey through 
 the nations coming back to us in the eastern heavens ; the moun- 
 tains painted with light, the floating splendour of the sea, the earth 
 waking from deep slumber, the day flowing down the sides of the 
 hill, till it reaches the secret valleys, the little insect recalled to 
 life, the bird trying her wings, man going forth to his labour ; each 
 created being moving, thinking, acting, contriving according to 
 the scheme and compass of its nature by force, by cunning, by 
 reason, by necessity, is it possible to joy in this animated scene and 
 feel no pity for the sons of darkness ? for the eyes that will never 
 taste the sweet light ? for the poor, clouded in everlasting gloom ? 
 If you ask me why they are miserable and dejected, I turn you to 
 the plentiful valleys, to the fields now bringing forth their increase, 
 to the freshness and the flowers of the earth, to the endless variety 
 of its colours ; to the grace, the symmetry, the shape of all it 
 cherishes and all it bears ; these you have forgotten, because you 
 have always enjoyed them, but these are the means by which God 
 Almighty makes man what he is, cheerful, lively, erect, full of 
 enterprise, mutable, glancing from heaven to earth, prone to 
 labour and to act. Why was not the earth left without form and 
 void ? Why was not darkness suffered to remain on the face of 
 the deep ? Why did God place lights in the firmament for days, 
 for seasons, for signs, and for years ? That he might make man 
 the happiest of beings ; that he might give to this his favourite 
 creation, a wider scope, a more permanent duration, a richer diver-' 
 sity of joy. This is the reason why the blind are miserable and 
 dejected, because their soul is mutilated and dismembered of its 
 best sense ; because they are a laughter and a ruin, and the boys 
 of the street mock at their stumbling feet. Therefore, I implore 
 you, by the Son of David, have mercy on the blind ! If there is not 
 pity for all sorrows, turn the full and perfect man to meet the 
 inclemency of fate ; let not those who have never tasted the 
 pleasures of existence be assailed by any of its sorrows. The eyes 
 which are never gladdened by light should never stream with 
 tears. ....... 
 
 " Another source of misery to the blind is their defenceless 
 weakness of body; they can neither foresee evil, ascertain its
 
 XXV1H AN ESSAY ON 
 
 nature, nor avert its consequences. If they venture a step from 
 their usual haunts, every spot on which they tread is pregnant with 
 some new danger ; the earth seems to them a continued precipice. 
 The blind, says a very excellent writer, who had himself never 
 enjoyed the blessing of sight, the blind not only may be, but 
 actually are, during a considerable period, apprehensive of danger 
 in every motion towards any place from which their contracted 
 powers of perception give them no intelligence. . . . Dependent 
 for everything, except mere subsistence, on the good offices of 
 others ; obnoxious to injury from every point, which they are 
 neither capacitated to receive, nor qualified to resist, they are, 
 during the present state of being, rather prisoners at large, than 
 citizens of nature. 
 
 " To estimate the advantages of sight, or of any other blessing 
 coeval with life, we should call in the force of contrast, and con- 
 sider what the condition of man would have been had it pleased 
 God to create him without it. Devoid of sight, man would acquire 
 his knowledge of the properties of bodies slowly, singly, and with 
 extreme uncertainty : the sluggish current of his ideas would ren- 
 der him unfit for enterprise, his submission to every danger passive, 
 or his opposition fruitless and confused. Some faint intelligence 
 he would derive from sound ; but he could receive few accurate 
 notions from any greater distance than he could reach. From all 
 that knowledge of bodies which we derive from an acquaintance 
 with their affinities to light, and which to us are the sign.s of vigour 
 and decay, salubrity and harm, youth and age, hatred and love, he 
 would be eternally precluded ; his mind must necessarily be ex- 
 ercised upon diminutive objects, because, though a long-continued 
 series of touches would give him an accurate notion of each part 
 touched, he could not, from such disconnected intelligence, collect 
 the notion of a single individual mass. The works of God thus 
 broken into baubles, and given to him bit by bit, what can this 
 truncated, mutilated being know of the wisdom and power of his 
 Creator ? Open to him, now, the visible world ; he penetrates into 
 distance, space ; he sees at one glance millions of objects ; he views 
 the breadth, and depth, and altitude of things ; he perceives there 
 is a God amongst the aged streams, and the perpetual mountains, 
 and the everlasting hills." 
 
 The existence of this sermon, in which philosophy and religion 
 are so beautifully blended, and the extracts from which I feel 
 confident will be so welcome to the blind, I first learned from the 
 memoirs recently published ; but the extracts themselves which I 
 have had so freely transcribed, are from the first volume of his pub- 
 lished sermons, published by Cadell and Davies, nearly fifty years 
 since. 
 
 In the same volume will be found another sermon, on a subject 
 ofi'ar greater importance to the blind than many of the high-
 
 BLIND JAMES WILSON. XXIX 
 
 / 
 
 minded and sincere suspect to be necessary. I mean his sermon 
 on " Truth." It is not blindness which has reduced me to my 
 present ruined and isolated condition, inasmuch as for blindness 
 the Almighty has provided compensation in the unusual develop- 
 ment of the remaining faculties, if the blind man be capable and 
 willing, and if his former friends, relatives, and society will but adopt 
 the course they ought to pursue. Neither is it the adversity of our 
 family, for there were friends not only able and willing T but anxious 
 to supply more than enough to have established me in some one of 
 the many means by which I might have acquired self-support and 
 independence. But amongst so numerous and influential a circle 
 there was not one who would listen to, much less recognise the 
 principle, and aid in any necessary scheme for keeping me in the 
 society of my equals, for preserving those manly ties through 
 which come information and the warning of opportunity, as well 
 as by which those actions are transmitted and completed which 
 are necessary for the restoration of the blind man to his proper 
 rank. 
 
 If any philanthropist will take the trouble to inquire, I believe 
 he will not find in our language, now, at a time when almost every 
 thing else is to be found in print, and at so cheap a rate, a single 
 volume, however small, as a guide to parents and relatives on 
 their duties and the mode of treatment they should adopt towards 
 the blind, or %he deaf and dumb, although thousands may be had 
 on singing-birds and silk-worms, and crochet or worsted work, or 
 any other of the trivialities on which so much attention and thought 
 is wasted, so greatly needed elsewhere, and which would so amply 
 repay for their higher application. When the friend of the blind, 
 and the deaf and dumb, Dr. Hubert Valleroux, commenced his 
 benevolent inquiry with the advantages of sight, position, and 
 all the libraries of Paris, he found this great deficiency, and has 
 therefore ever since, and is at present devoting himself to lay the 
 foundation of a better state of things. It is not, then, to be won- 
 dered at that, on my return from a voyage to Bombay in the sum- 
 mer of 1847, whither I had sailed at the same period of the pre- 
 ceding year, after my blindness was complete, that I was quite at a 
 loss how to proceed for the future. The altered treatment of most 
 of my former friends, who appeared to have made up their minds 
 that I was no longer fitted for a useful position among them in the 
 active and elevatinsr duties of life, without reflecting on what must 
 be the inevitable result, had I wavered in my determination, and 
 had I given myself up to the useless amusements and time-killing 
 trifles with which they would have had me be contented ; the 
 very low and pernicious treatment which exists in most families, 
 that of avoiding all mention of blindness and its consequences, as 
 if wrong and depressing, was an acknowledged principle of prac- 
 tice ; and every attempt to gain information, which of course I
 
 XXX AS ESSAY OX 
 
 could only do through my friends, or such inferiors as I could edu- 
 cate and pay, was regarded as evidence of a morbid predisposition 
 to dwell on my calamity, a weakness, of course, to be cured by banter, 
 ridicule, or evasion of the subject; and the correctness of such a 
 course was never doubted, since my former medical friends led the 
 dissemination of this erroneous doctrine. Years of antagonism, 
 estrangement from relatives, loss of friends, and exile from the 
 society of my equals, and a number of other fatal consequences, 
 have been the result, not from this evil alone, but from one which 
 naturally grew out of such low views. Honest ignorance of a duty 
 (of which I myself knew nothing till blindness forced on me its im- 
 portance), the most obstinate routine to the possibility only of five- 
 sensed views, mode of thought, shape of phrase, and course of action, 
 however cohesive and almost impenetrable to reason, would 
 never have reduced me to what I am, had not the want of larger 
 views and a guiding principle, which necessitated a system of 
 tinkering expediency, at last called in the aid of falsehood, and 
 of deception so fatal till it became positive treachery. 
 
 No one more than myself felt the truth and justice of a quo- 
 tation made by Lord Campbell from a speech of Lord Erskine : 
 " Some of the darkest and most dangerous prejudices of men 
 arise from the most honourable principles. When prejudices are 
 caught up from bad passions, the worst men feels intervals of 
 remorse to soften and disperse them ; but when they arise from 
 a generous or mistaken source, they are hugged close to the 
 bosom, and the kindest and most impassionate natures feel a 
 pleasure in fostering a blind and unjust resentment." And not 
 long since his Royal Highness Prince Albert, in his well-known 
 address on the opening of the Birmingham Literary and Scientific 
 Institution, pointed out the real source of our little progress in 
 social questions of practical humanity, in a want of a more 
 general cultivation of the mental sciences. I believe I quote his 
 words correctly from memory. u There is a very great need in gene- 
 ral education of more logic and metaphysics, of more physiology 
 and psychology." If this be needed, as it really is, in general 
 education, how much more is it necessary in those professions to 
 which are entrusted the care of the mental powers, and the 
 defence of the rights of the insane, and the imbecile, the blind, 
 the deaf and dumb, and others of the disabled and the helpless 
 class, whom too many of the healthy and the prosperous are too 
 much inclined to thrust aside and into some oubliette out of the 
 way of opportunity and enjoyment, but into what future they 
 either do not or will not take the trouble to inquire or allow 
 others to bring forward. The professions to which I allude are 
 the law and medicine ; and in those sciences I do not limit myself 
 to the higher section, who have to do with the insane, the cri- 
 minal, and others in public institutions. It is of far greater
 
 BLIND JAMES WILSON. XXXI 
 
 importance to prevent their getting there by a higher tone of 
 scientific knowledge in the home and family circle, such as every 
 general practitioner, solicitor, and minister of religion can con- 
 vey ; for the aggregate of the influences of the latter on society 
 far exceeds that of the former, besides having the vantage ground 
 for the application of that preventive principle, obsta principiis, 
 
 Those who acted as my friends ten years since were either novices 
 in the subject, or young men well qualified and rising in the different 
 departments to which they had devoted their attention. They 
 knew not the importance of taking into consideration the laws on 
 which depend the health of the human mind, and the necessity of 
 preserving and strengthening by ties and intercourse with the 
 intelligent and business-like section of society ; for the important 
 value of these roots of support and fibres for nutrition is not 
 dreamt of by the young and the hopeful, whose parents still live, 
 whose patrimony is not expended, or whose " nos poma " career 
 has never received a check. Not relying, therefore, on those by 
 whom I was not understood, but from whom I ought to have had 
 respect and aid instead of ridicule and reproach, I still persevered, 
 and in the spring of 1852, on my return from a visit to the schools 
 and the blind of France and Belgium, I was compelled to part 
 with a youth I had been instructing many years to observe as 
 accurately as the blind require, to take an interest in what he read, 
 and thus understanding to write without feeling it irksome. The 
 importance of this great loss, and of its sudden check to all mental 
 exertion, was not perceived by any ; or, if perceived, not admitted, 
 for they appeared to consider that any boy of the same height, 
 years, or weight would do as well ; so little is that question of such 
 vital importance to the blind ever thought of, the mental capacity 
 of their companion or guide, to whose level of perception and action 
 their own minds must be limited, cramped, and to harmony with 
 which they must ultimately collapse. In the autumn of that year, 
 having been disappointed and obstructed in one quarter, I directed 
 my efforts to another ; but here I was doomed to feel the fatal 
 effects of that nursery system of manoeuvre, and that sick-room 
 system of plausible, delusive, and wily trickery so fatal to thousands 
 of blind besides myself, instead of a frank and honourable admis- 
 sion from my equals, to which I was entitled by my position, 
 straightforward conduct, both before and after blindness, the use- 
 fulness of my labours, and the correct motives which urged me 
 on. Instead of such a frank and honourable admission that they 
 had erred in their treatment, and that I might rely on more truth 
 and respect for the future, a base and dishonourable advantage 
 was taken of my blindness and my confidence to misinform and 
 warp the judgment of a well-known professor, to whom it was 
 known I intended to apply. The evil consequences of such a 
 step were neither foreseen nor contemplated, or I well know it
 
 XXX11 AN ESSAY ON 
 
 never would have been done ; but it came at a critical period, 
 when but a little truth and a little intellectual aid would have 
 carried me forward into a sphere of useful action, would 
 have preserved the friendships I then possessed, and would have 
 reclaimed many of the generous and sincere, who only left me 
 from the prevailing idea of the uselessness and absurdity of my 
 schemes. It came at a critical period, when the liberal supply of 
 a friend, given with frankness and pleasure, and accepted with as 
 much frankness and gratitude, was bridging me over a wide 
 depth of difficulties. Explanation became necessary to justify 
 the course I had taken, and explanation was exposure of the 
 plague-spot of pauperism which made many recede, and deprived 
 me of that intercourse which was necessary to life, besides bring- 
 ing a stronger and unnecessary strain on friendship, which, if it 
 cannot restore to self-supporting action, must, sooner or later, re- 
 coil from the apprehension of insatiable and exacting pauperism. 
 
 There are four or five, particularly, who well know the history 
 of this affair, who have seen the blind man, once their equal in 
 society, an imprisoned wanderer, struggling to find out the source 
 and extent of the mischief, for no other purpose than to correct it, 
 that he may have the assurance of truth for the future, the only 
 basis on which the blind can ever attempt to act. For hope is not 
 an instinctive feeling; it springs from confidence in truth; and 
 where the blind are once betrayed, and no manly attempt is made 
 to re-establish confidence, decline and ruin must be the result. 
 
 " A thorough conviction of the security derived from truth," 
 says the Rev. Sydney Smith, in the sermon before alluded to, "is 
 no mean incitement to its cultivation. Falsehood subjects us to a 
 perpetual vigilance ; we must constantly struggle to reconcile a 
 supposed fact to tl c current of real events, ana to point out the 
 consequenpes of an ideal cause ; the first falsehood must be propped 
 np by a second, an the second cemented by a third." There are 
 many who know how numerous have been the manoeuvres, fabrica- 
 tions, and contrivances to exhaust, mislead, and silence me. These 
 four years of struggling antagonism, to smuggle over and to conceal 
 the consequences of this single false step, might and ought to have 
 been prevented by one or two who, had they come forward without 
 naming the person, and had they assured me of truth for the future, 
 would have preserved my position and that of those connected with 
 and depending on me ; and I should have now been still on friendly 
 terms and frequent intercourse, and receiving intellectual aid 
 from those by whom I am now no longer noticed. Every false- 
 hood must either be honourably met, or, as in reckless bill dis- 
 counting, must be constantly renewed by those of increased mag- 
 nitude, or in greater number, till an honourable compromise is 
 almost impossible. The few friends I had left, unwitting of the 
 consequences, have been tampered with, to delude me into quietism,
 
 BLIND JAMES WILSON. XXxiii 
 
 till the extent of my wreck terrifies the timid from offering the 
 assistance which honour should suggest and Christianity supply. 
 
 I am fully prepared for the downward torrent of the future, for 
 as yet I see not the point from which or where I might expect the 
 necessary aid. Of those who have been looked on as my friends, not 
 one man has ever come forward to offer that which is a blind man's 
 right. In the scheme of Divine government the Deity has designed 
 that the blind shall be restored by each and every one as opportunity 
 offers and circumstances permit, giving truth through the ear to 
 compensate for that which would have been perceived through the 
 eye, by warning him of what he does not suspect, especially when 
 it concerns himself, by informing him of what he wishes to know, 
 by correcting his impressions when wrong, and verifying them when 
 true. Let but such a plan be pursued, and it is impossible but that 
 the blind will rise into a useful and self-supporting member of 
 society. On the contrary, let the treatment be a slovenly disregard 
 of, or indifference to, these principles, silly and misleading com- 
 pliments, or reckless trifling, and the present degraded state of the 
 blind will be perpetuated. I believe it possible to attain this in 
 general society ; but I cannot help asking how far the great and 
 unusual proficiency of John Gough, of Kendal, was due to the con- 
 fidence inspired, and knowledge imparted, by the more serious and 
 untrifling tone of conversation in the Society of Friends, of which I 
 believe he was a member. I am not an advocate of the principles 
 of this respected section of the Christian community, but I have 
 wished often for their style of serious attention and conscientious 
 truthfulness instead of the shallow and insincere compliments which 
 the so-called wonderful blind are obliged to endure. Evils, I have 
 said before, multiply themselves, and are frequently aggravated in 
 their progress by complication with other circumstances which, in 
 themselves harmless, have greater weight from this very complication, 
 or the juncture at which they happen. Like all educated blind of 
 mature years, I see how thoroughly, I may almost say, blasted are 
 the prospects of the blind from our cause being entirely in the 
 hands of five-sensed amateurs, or officials insufficiently educated. 
 To the reports of such bodies the country looks for information, 
 and believe, there is nothing to be learned beyond that which their 
 scanty, superficial, and often misleading report supplies. I am not 
 aware of a single efficient and struggling blind man or woman 
 being on the Committee, or having any influence with any of these 
 bodies connected either with schools or asylums. I am opposed to 
 that system of exile education which, especially at the Blackfriars- 
 road School, St. George's Fields, where, with vested property of 
 nearly 100,000, such an expensive staff of officials and a yearly 
 expenditure of or about eight or nine thousand pounds, so little 
 good is done, but where much harm is, by the partial teaching of a 
 trade or of some employment by which they cannot afterwards keep
 
 XXXIV AN ESSAY ON 
 
 themselves from becoming paupers on the parish or paupers on their 
 friends. Neither is it right that they should be prevented from 
 attending places of worship on Sunday such as they have always 
 attended with their families before they came to the school, and to 
 which they must afterwards return, either to harmonise with, or to 
 end their days in the estranging discord of religious disunion. lam op- 
 posed to another constant practice of some of these exile schools, and 
 some of their less enlightened teachers, who would keep the blind in 
 the dark as to everything invented or put in practice in other parts of 
 the country, or of Europe or of America, for their aid or develop- 
 ment, and who would limit them exclusively to their own particular 
 views and sighted prejudices. The relief type of Dr. Howe, of 
 Boston, and that of Philadelphia, like that of the Bristol Society, 
 will, I believe, be useful as a kind of transition alphabet or ele- 
 mentary for the young, because it is the A B C of their parents, 
 and who, therefore, can believe in the possibility of what they have 
 learned; but the constant endeavour of the blind to invent an 
 alphabet for the finger, such as Louis Braillie, whose alphabet has 
 now superseded in France the dear hornbook forms of sighted 
 partiality, or such as that of the blind Mr. Moon, of Brighton, 
 must not be studiously ignored or obscured ; and those who would 
 write on " tangible typography" with truth, must not exclude from 
 their list the angular type and the labours of James Gall, theCaxton 
 of relief type to the blind of England, America, and their depen- 
 dencies. Those who prefer it, can read or use the short-hand sys- 
 tem adapted by Lucas, the phonetic system introduced by Mr. 
 Frere, the Glasgow system of capitals only, or the system of the 
 blind Mr. Hughes. 
 
 The ruinous institution, as it has been described by some, which 
 I wish to have had, was a single room for the collection and diffu- 
 sion, of information, of books, and every kind of instrument which 
 the blind require ; a centre of communication with France, 
 America, and the Continent, to which any one might have applied ; 
 and those who know me, know well how much truth would have 
 earnestly and cheerfully been given without suppression or perver- 
 sion, quibble or partiality, where any stranger in half-an-hour might 
 have learned the experience of eight or ten years. Some, whose 
 object has been to force their own views, and to limit me to their 
 own schemes, in which has been entirely omitted any provision for 
 the occupation and health of the mind, have conjured up absurd 
 and mischievous views of an expensive institution I never contem- 
 plated. I did contemplate the possibility, when I had the room, 
 with the certainty of one who could write legibly and read clearly, 
 of undertaking any kind of agencies which would have been the 
 commencement of a self-supporting business ; but consultations and 
 conversations, from which I have almost always been excluded, have 
 given to my own scheme, and the whole of my conduct, a most dis-
 
 BLIND JAMES WILSON. XXXV 
 
 torted and injurious character. No sooner is it attempted to put 
 in practice new views than that indefinite and perplexing term in- 
 stitution is applied to it, and with it the idea of architects and well- 
 paid staff, whether they understand or not the object in view. In 
 fact, there are a certain class of minds who, had they been entrusted 
 with the creation of the mollusca, would first have made the shell 
 according to their own fancy , and then have crammed into it the first 
 poor stray or unprovided-for being that happened to come within their 
 reach. Such finality and fatalism are quite in opposition to the spirit 
 of nature, which, if oftener observed, and imitated in charitable in- 
 stitutions, would effect more good, and prevent much cruelty. It 
 is only by such a centre that the selfishness of the present exclu- 
 sive and pernicious system, involving as it does so great an amount 
 of retardation of intellect and of human misery, can have the 
 slightest opportunity of being efficiently corrected. The necessity 
 of some such movement will not be considered the less necessary 
 by those who read the " Bieufaiteur " for February, 1855, a French 
 journal devoted to the cause of the blind, as well as the deaf and 
 dumb. In his remarks on the report of the Blackfriars-road 
 School, in St. George's Fields, the Abbe Daras calls it " la plus 
 richement dotee du globe," and states that " le simple releve des 
 souscriptions forme chaque annee un volume." He afterwards 
 thus criticises the report itself: "II serait a souhaiter que 1'An- 
 
 fleterre comme 1'Allemagne, suivissent, dans ses rapports, 1'example 
 es Etats-Unis. Tin rapport Americain est uu tresor intellectuel ; 
 et en Europe les rapports ne sont que des colonnes de 
 chiffres." 
 
 Another cause which has contributed much to reduce me to 
 my present low and deserted state, is a narrow, bitter, and un- 
 christian spirit of religious sectarianism. Early in life my father, 
 conscientious and sincere, inculcated a spirit of inquiry, and taught 
 me not only the right but the duty of private judgment. In 
 obedience to this responsibility, I inquired for myself, and soon 
 found my convictions more in accordance with those of my father 
 than with the rest of any other relatives or friends. His liberality 
 induced him to offer me the opportunities of either of the Uni- 
 versities, if I could conscientiously subscribe to the Thirty-nine 
 Articles ; but his honourable merchant spirit held in contempt, or 
 worse, that laxity of principle which subscribes to what it does 
 not believe to be the truth. As my friends were of the varying 
 shades of the Church of England, I was often, in early life, in 
 great doubt, in perplexity, what to believe, whom to follow, or 
 where to go for advice ; for I clearly saw beforehand that I must 
 first decide on adopting the religion of the person I should seek, 
 as, of course, he would not recommend as true any doctrine but 
 his own. Having early been well grounded in the essentials of 
 religion, I saw there was no other course but to be consistent, and
 
 XXXT1 AN ESSAY ON 
 
 rely on my own convictions. Whilst at Exeter and elsewhere the 
 Established Church was my school, and in it I learned to adopt 
 that which was sufficiently proved, and not to embrace that which 
 was insufficiently proven. Although this has been my stay and 
 support in many a day of struggle when I had sight, and in many 
 a day and night of darkness since I have been blind, if the mind 
 were not too stagnant, and I could by any possibility rouse and 
 sustain a current of thought, yet it has been a great bar to my 
 progress through life, and I have felt it much worse in the period 
 of adversity and blindness. It might be said that this need not 
 interfere with a medical man if he but understand his profession 
 and perform his duty ; but it does interfere greatly, as too many 
 know to their cost. Besides, we are brought too much in contact 
 with a certain class of hysterico-impulsives and their abettors, 
 who too frequently imagine they have a divine right to hunt up 
 heretics and infidels, and who are not over accurate in their 
 statements or logical in their reasonings, nor are they sufficiently 
 attentive to that injunction of Jesus the Son of Sirach : "Blame 
 not till ye have examined the truth. Understand first and then 
 rebuke" During many years of active life, it has been my good 
 fortune to become acquainted with, and to have had my sincerest 
 friends in persons whose convictions differed from my own ; and in 
 endeavouring to take a wide, consistent, and complete view of 
 Christianity, I never could limit myself to the nostrums of some 
 narrow minds more than I could in medical practice to those of medi- 
 cine ; and I always regarded that faith as an abortive or barren 
 blossom which did not evince a ready predisposition to ripen into 
 the fruit of practice. I have often been called a fool by some friends 
 for meddling with the subject ; and I know well that a flexible or 
 silent indifferentism would have procured me much greater aid ; it 
 would have relieved me of many an anxious strain upon the mind 
 years since ; it would have prevented some estrangements both 
 before and since blindness ; it would have prevented the sanctify- 
 ing on religious grounds of a retreat from a blind friend suspiciously 
 due to some very different motive. Many an undertaking of acknow- 
 ledged worth has either been foiled, or my efforts undermined or 
 thwarted, by this sectarian spirit. It is well known how I have 
 laboured for the blind and for their elevation ; it is well known 
 that I have no sectarian object ; but, on the contrary, my views em- 
 brace the well-being and advancement of every blind person, in 
 their home, their circles, and religion of their friends. Had I 
 chosen to have made it sectarian and subservient to any partial or 
 particular ends, I might, perhaps, have met with some aid ; but, 
 such as they are, as I believe, liberal and just, I trust I shall yet 
 meet with some whose spirit of greater liberality will aid me in the 
 course I wish to advance. I can only now express my sincere 
 gratitude to those who have through life, although differing from
 
 BLIND JAMES WILSON. XXXV11 
 
 me, given me credit for sincerity, reported me aright, and who 
 have treated me with respect. 
 
 A disinclination to, and not seeing the necessity of separating 
 myself from the community of my friends, of those whom I respected, 
 and in fact of nearly all my acquaintances, might have given to my 
 conduct the appearance of wavering and uncertainty, a want of 
 fixedness of principle, of which some have not been slow to take 
 advantage and sneer at. For my own part, I am thankful that I 
 had the opportunity of making friends with the intelligent and 
 sincere in many sections of the Christian church, instead of being 
 cramped and narrowed into the prejudices and bitterness of any 
 particular and exclusive sect. I never repented of the step I took 
 at eighteen years of age ; at some periods I slackened my inquiries, 
 at others I pursued them with more earnestness, but I have not 
 wavered, and if blessed with truth from my fellow man, and other 
 opportunities and means necessary to the health of the mind, I 
 shall, sustained by conscience, not 
 
 "Bate a jot 
 
 Of heart or hope ; but still bear up, and steer 
 Right onward." 
 
 I can no longer suppress that which I feel to be a great injus- 
 tice. Religion includes honour, and no end can sanctify the 
 means if confidence be betrayed and principle abandoned. If my 
 religious views are wrong, they ought to have been fairly inquired 
 into first, and then, if any had chosen to retreat (the acts of former 
 friendship, or other claims, having been paid off or not), they 
 ought to have done so openly, and not to have kept on that am- 
 biguous line of tactics which undermined or kept down whilst it 
 assumed the semblance of a wish to advance and sustain. Feeling 
 this influence keenly through life, it will explain many points 
 which others might have conveniently smuggled over as due to ec- 
 centricity and a capricious waste of opportunity ; and during these 
 many years of adversity my schemes and efforts have not been sel- 
 fish; so long as I could help others I did so, and if I have appeared 
 to separate from my sisters, it was only when I saw they could 
 not possibly keep me up, and I was determined not to drag them 
 down. It is bad enough to suffer oneself, but no good is to be at- 
 tained by the depressing effects of contemplating the unnecessary 
 isolation and degradation of others, who, if set free, would rise and 
 secure a better position for themselves. Let any one visit the 
 lodgings, for some of them scarcely deserve the name of the homes, 
 of the blind. Let them contemplate the man, and compare his po- 
 sition with that of his former relatives andfriends, from intercourse 
 with whom he ought not to have been an outcast ; and if married, 
 or with a sister, let them contemplate also the isolated state of the 
 partner of his imprisonment, the narrow range of their perceptions,
 
 XXXV1U AN ESSAY ON 
 
 thoughts, actions, and aspirations, and how the one has become 
 shunned because, if her society be sought that of the other must be 
 endured. The females of the family where there are blind must be 
 on their guard against this unmanly trick of men that of flattering 
 or misleading them into wheedling or tricking their male relatives 
 into a nonentity, and then leaving them with the burden for the 
 rest of their lives, and its consequent exclusion from the oppor- 
 tunities and enjoyments of life. The blind females of a family are 
 not so much banished from the society of their equals ; but the 
 blind man soon finds the fatal effects of an opposite mode of treat- 
 ment, and the useless state to which he is reduced renders him a 
 bore, which all attempts at compliments cannot conceal. If he 
 sink into harmony he loses the manhood of his mind ; and if he 
 attempt to resist this decline, he must lead a cat-and-dog life, 
 unless the manly portion of society aid him in keeping his mind in 
 that state of useful activity which alone can make him a welcome 
 companion with the intelligent, the useful, and refined of the other 
 sex. 
 
 In an earlier part of my essay I quoted the writings of the Rev. 
 Sydney Smith ; and I now, with pleasure, select a passage from a 
 well written essay on the human mind and its derangements by the 
 Rev. James M'Kee, Chaplain to the Northampton County Hospital* 
 for the Insane, and printed in their report for the years 1854 and 
 1855. I quote the passage because it contains those principles 
 which ought to be understood and recognised as well as acted on 
 and advanced by those who presume to interfere with or direct the 
 management of the blind. Blind schools, so far as the house, the 
 stores, and all the rest of the materialism, are undoubtedly the pro- 
 perty of the different corporate bodies and societies, subject, of 
 course, to the Commissioners of Charitable Trusts ; but that enormous 
 amount of human mind imprisoned in the blind and in the deaf and 
 dumb, with its powers of elevation, its capacity for suffering-, use- 
 fulness, and happiness in fact, with its privileges of life is not the 
 property of any self-constituted directors or amateurs, to be stunted, 
 driven wild, mismanaged, or blasted by incompetent supervision or 
 inadequate opportunity. And I sincerely hope that those of higher 
 education who enjoy the high privilege of influencing the councils 
 of our country, and who have done so much for the slave, the insane, 
 and the felon, will see the importance of extending that protection 
 to the blind and deaf and dumb, by visiting their schools and, if 
 necessary, by visiting their homes. 
 
 " I believe," writes Mr. M'Kee, p. 14, " that every human 
 being receives from his Creator, at the commencement of his 
 
 * I have adopted this term from the rev. gentleman himself. England. 
 I believe, is the only country where a similar term is not used. To me the 
 term expresses more of hope" and the probability of cure.
 
 BLIND JAMES WILSON. XXXIX 
 
 existence, a mind endued with intellectual and moral faculties or 
 powers, and capable of a high degree of intellectual and moral 
 cilture. But as the mind in acquiring knowledge carries on its 
 operations by means of physical or material organs, the perfection 
 of its operations and the number and character of its intellectual 
 attainments depend, of course, upon the healthy state, due exer- 
 cise, and mature development of thos.e organs; and accordingly, 
 malformation, or diseased conditions of the physical organs, impair 
 or suspend the operations of the mind, and thus not only prevent 
 the culture of the intellectual and moral powers, but also cause 
 imbecility, idiocy, illusions of sense, and insanity." 
 
 Now, since to sustain the mind in healthy activity there must 
 ever be a just balance between the supply or import of perception 
 and the opportunity for export of action, adequate exercise of the 
 instrument of thought, and abundant supply of motive power, it 
 stands to reason that, if these conditions, necessary to health, be, 
 disturbed or arrested by blindness, and its consequent imprison- 
 ment and inactivity, some one of the evils so clearly pointed out 
 by the reverend gentleman must inevitably be our doom, and that 
 it is to such writers and reasoners we must look for that aid and 
 support which alone can avert impending wretchedness, and evils 
 that, once gaining head, can never be removed. Towards the 
 conclusion of his essay, p. 33, Mr. M'Kee thus writes : " I 
 trust it will not be thought by any gentleman that in what I have 
 said in this report I have travelled out of the sphere of a clergy- 
 man, when they recollect that some of our universities, including 
 that in which I myself graduated, make a knowledge of Locke's 
 'Essay on the Human Understanding,' Brown's 'Sketch of the 
 Philosophy of the Mind,' Paley's ' Moral Philosophy,' Gisborn's 
 ' Principles of Moral Philosophy,' Brown's ' Lectures on the 
 Philosophy of the Mind,' Smith's ' View of Ancient Moral Sys- 
 tems,' Burlamqui's 'Natural Law,' and other works of a similar 
 character, indispensable in all candidates for the degree of 
 bachelor of arts who read for honours ; that the professors of 
 mental and moral philosophy in our universities are clergymen; and 
 that in reasoning, as I have done, in defence of important 
 principles most intimately connected with the subject of religion, 
 from facts discovered by the investigations of anatomists and phy- 
 siologists of the greatest eminence, I have merely followed the 
 example of Bishop Butler, in his work on the ' Analogy of 
 Religion to the Constitution and Course of Nature,' Archdeacon 
 Paley in his work on ' Natural Theology,' the Rev. Dr. Reid, in 
 his lectures, as professor of moral philosophy, on the ' Intellectual 
 Powers of Man,' and many other clergymen." 
 
 Whatever may be the opinions of others, and but one opinion 
 there ought to be, every intelligent blind man, as well as deaf and 
 dumb, will look forward with gratitude and hope to the labours of
 
 X AN ESSAY OS 
 
 such men, and the students of such works, whether their sphere 
 of future action be the church, law, or medicine, as magistrate or 
 statesmen ; for, as we are beaten down or allowed to lapse lower 
 and lower amongst the ill-educated or less educated, our treatmect 
 becomes worse, and our danger of greater suffering and deteriora- 
 tion far greater ; for, however benevolent any man or woman migtit 
 be, their beneficence must ever be limited by their intellectual 
 power and knowledge of the subject on which they presume to 
 reason and direct, their moral energy and their sincerity, whilst their 
 proneness to blunder and consequent certainty of doing mischief must 
 ever be in proportion to their ignorance of the subject in which 
 they presume to meddle, or their want of moral courage to execute 
 and insist on that which they know to be right. If a portion of 
 such or similar books were decided on as those to be read by can- 
 didates for honours in our medical and legal examinations, in our 
 courts of justice we should sooner arrive at a clearer definition of 
 what is responsible insanity, such as vice and crime, and what is 
 irresponsible insanity, a form of derangement requiring a very 
 different mode of treatment. Not only should we have a high 
 class of men in our public appointments, but our homes would be 
 influenced by the spirit of such advisers as the Rev. Sydney Smith 
 and the Rev. Mr. M'Kee, as Mr. Recorder Hill and Dr. Howe, of 
 Boston. There is another band collecting and growing into im- 
 portance, from whom the blind and the deaf and dumb might 
 expect much hereafter. Among those gentlewomen who will 
 devote themselves to practical charity will be many who, whilst 
 others devote themselves to that section of nursing which requires 
 predominance of muscular labour, these will find themselves more 
 at home in that region of thought which contemplates the 
 possibility of a better kind of nursing for the restoration of 
 the overstrained or unbalanced mind. When this other half 
 of the human family shall be allowed to step forward and fill 
 up the vacancies so long void or badly filled in the different 
 ranks and grades of active and useful life, it is to be hoped 
 that so many hundreds, now allowed to sink into no one 
 knows what below the level of their brothers, will have an op- 
 portunity of qualifying themselves, and of attaining a recognised 
 rank, from previous study and practical acquaintance, as companions 
 to those of their own sex whose minds have suffered, and require 
 that aid, confidence, and consolation which can never be derived 
 from that main strength and stupidity treatment too much in 
 vogue. If the trained and certificated teachers are divided into 
 three classes, with three divisions of gradation in each, why is not 
 a similar scheme adopted for the benefit of the insane which would 
 secure a higher class of female attendance and companions, and 
 who would also be well qualified for many other situations in which 
 a higher tone of thought and view than at present exists is greatly
 
 BLIND JAMES WILSON. 
 
 required ? If women take the lead in this movement, the men 
 must follow. . 
 
 %* Since these pages have been in print I have had read to me more 
 than once the review in the Times, Oct. 16th, of Dr. Connolly's work on 
 " The Treatment of the Insane without Mechanical Restraints," just pub- 
 lished by Smith and Elder, and it is gratifying to find my views supported 
 by that justly esteemed authority. "He" (Dr. Connolly), quotes the 
 Reviewer, "approves, with additional suggestions of his own (page 
 326 327^, some proposals of theirs (the Lunacy Commissioners) which have 
 not yet been carried out in practice. Especially, he desires a better training 
 of the attendants ; that they should receive diplomas, or tickets of registry, 
 entitling them to situations ; that a registry of them should be kept at the 
 office of the Commissioners ; and that, according to the Commissioners' own 
 request, when an attendant is dismissed or leaves any situation for miscon- 
 duct, the cause of such change should be regularly reported to them." A 
 very little reflection should warn friends that the happiness of cure, or the 
 misery of continued or perhaps aggravated derangement, depends more on 
 the intellect and elevated moral character of the keeper or companion who 
 has the insane person wholly in his or her power, and generally in his or 
 her presence, rather than on the skill and humanity of the Medical 
 Superintendent who may see the patient only for a few minutes in the day, 
 and who, therefore, must or could be biased or misled by the statements 
 of the attendant, bent on smoothing over or concealing the mischievous 
 effects of a disease not sufficiently recognised amongst others vested with 
 power temporary, as well as insane attendants "the irritability of 
 incapacity." T. B. 
 
 year, I believe it will be accepted by the generous and the just as 
 sufficient explanation for the laboured or otherwise defective com- 
 position. I see before me perhaps years of unnoticed or disregarded 
 isolation, without, perhaps, the hand to write, even if there should 
 be the friend to read. 
 
 After three or four years of exhaustion in my endeavour to 
 instruct boys, to render them capable of writing a plain and intel- 
 ligible sentence, and almost always meeting with that ill-will that 
 falls to the lot of those who attempt to instruct the ignorant, in 
 addition to the evasion and low cunning which they vainly think they 
 can play off on the blind without detection, the friend who has never 
 failed paid for the return of the only youth with whom I have been able 
 to make any progress, and whom I named as leaving me in the spring 
 of 1852. But three years had made a great difference in my posi- 
 tion, and things possible then are not so now ; and although he has 
 been constantly with me this last twelvemonth, a greater complication 
 of evils and exclusion from that society which refreshes, invigorates, 
 and gives hope to the mind above all, the death, departure, or 
 desertion of many friends, has prevented my securing that position 
 I once might have done. The prospect of circumstances again 
 compelling him to leave me to make a position for himself in life, 
 though not in that in which he might have aided me with so much
 
 xl 
 
 AN ESSAY ON 
 
 such men, and the students of such works, whether their sphere 
 of future action be the church, law, or medicine, as magistrate or 
 
 devote themselves to practical charity will be many who, whilst 
 others devote themselves to that section of nursing which requires 
 predominance of muscular labour, these will find themselves more 
 at home in that region of thought which contemplates the 
 possibility of a better kind of nursing for the restoration of 
 the overstrained or unbalanced mind. When this other half 
 of the human family shall be allowed to step forward and fill 
 up the vacancies so long void or badly filled in the different 
 ranks and grades of active and useful life, it is to be hoped 
 that so many hundreds, now allowed to sink into no one 
 knows what below the level of their brothers, will have an op- 
 portunity of qualifying themselves, and of attaining a recognised 
 rank, from previous study and practical acquaintance, as companions 
 to those of their own sex whose minds have suffered, and require 
 that aid, confidence, and consolation which can never be derived 
 from that main strength and stupidity treatment too much in 
 vogue. If the trained and certificated teachers are divided into 
 three classes, with three divisions of gradation in each, why is not 
 a similar scheme adopted for the benefit of the insane which would 
 secure a higher class of female attendance and companions, and 
 who would also be well qualified for many other situations in which 
 a higher tone of thought and view than at present exists is greatly
 
 BLIND JAMES WILSON. xi 
 
 required ? If women take the lead in thia movement, the men 
 must follow. 
 
 In drawing to a conclusion this essay, which has grown to a 
 greater length from the gradual and increased activity of thought 
 as my mind became relieved of its heavy and oppressive burden of 
 thought, congesting almost to stagnation, I must again refer to 
 those circumstances which have in a great degree forced me to the 
 public expression of so many opinions. Those who have never had 
 the pleasing course of the amenities of life ever disturbed by pain- 
 ful publicity, or the disruption of the ties of family and friends, will 
 be more likely to condemn than to understand ; and those who have 
 never known what it is to spend years in the too great silence, iso- 
 lation, and darkness of blindness, with the scanty, precarious, and 
 irregular supplies necessary to mental life, will not understand the 
 hard task of dragging from the depths of memory facts seldom 
 brought to the surface by conversation, so as to constitute a well- 
 planned, regular, and consistent statement. If to this be added 
 the bewildered and exhausted state consequent on almost ever reel- 
 ing in doubt and distrust, suspicion and uncertainty, the conscious- 
 ness of impaired health, too strongly evidenced by gradually 
 approaching deafness, and the certain decrease of the means and 
 opportunity of curing or arresting it ; in addition to the approach 
 of an unfavourable season of the year, which to a certain extent 
 benumbs and blocks out sensation at another point, always leaving 
 me in the spring less alive to external impressions each succeeding 
 year, I believe it will be accepted by the generous and the just as 
 sufficient explanation for the laboured or otherwise defective com- 
 position. I see before me perhaps years of unnoticed or disregarded 
 isolation, without, perhaps, the hand to write, even if there should 
 be the friend to read. 
 
 After three or four years of exhaustion in my endeavour to 
 instruct boys, to render them capable of writing a plain and intel- 
 ligible sentence, and almost always meeting with that ill-will that 
 falls to the lot of those who attempt to instruct the ignorant, in 
 addition to the evasion and low cunning which they vainly think they 
 can play off on the blind without detection, the friend who has never 
 failed paid for the return of the only youth with whom I have been able 
 to make any progress, and whom I named as leaving me in the spring 
 of 1852. But three years had made a great difference in my posi- 
 tion, and things possible then are not so now ; and although he has 
 been constantly with me this last twelvemonth, a greater complication 
 of evils and exclusion from that society which refreshes, invigorates, 
 and gives hope to the mind above all, the death, departure, or 
 desertion of many friends, has prevented my securing that position 
 I once might have done. The prospect of circumstances again 
 compelling him to leave me to make a position for himself in life, 
 though not in that in which he might have aided me with so much
 
 xlii 
 
 AN ESSAY ON 
 
 success and usefulness to the blind, as well as the community at 
 large, will again force me into a narrower sphere of action and 
 existence. Educate more boys I cannot, eight years of that 
 wearing, exhausting, and now hopeless labour is quite enough, and 
 with the homeless blind there is no inducement for the boy to stay, 
 no hope of introduction after. I say homeless. In the year before 
 this last, twelve boys left me, most, as usual, dismissed for falsehood 
 or deception, and the others could not endure the solitude of re- 
 siding with me in lodgings ; of course I had no conversation with 
 them, nor they for me. This is one of the evils I foresaw long 
 since. The boy to the blind is of the importance that the nails are 
 to the shoe of the traveller's horse. In my scheme for the future I 
 years since foresaw this, but it would almost appear that those 
 things which are not necessary to the sighted do not appear in their 
 full force as necessary to the blind. With these evils threatening near 
 as well as in the distance, I ask for more serious consideration for the 
 state of the blind, and self-preservation obliges me to obtrude my- 
 self forward, unwillingly enough, for I know well that, when a 
 certain line is past, however smooth appearances might be for the 
 present, there is danger in the future. Had it been my good for- 
 tune to have had one or two I could name true to me, that would 
 have been enough ; but, if I am reproached at one time for not 
 accepting the offer of my friends of a certain party who, it was 
 said, wished me to go to America to make myself more thoroughly 
 acquainted with the conditions and treatment of the blind in that 
 country, when no such offer had ever been made or dreamt of, and 
 then I am told by others that the same party will never aid me in 
 any of my undertakings for the benefit of the blind ; if I am told at 
 an after period that some other friends would wish me to go to 
 America for the same purpose, but that they thought I should not 
 like to leave my mother at her age and in her state of health, 
 and then soon after I learn from another quarter, from too 
 much of a gentlewoman to tell a falsehood, that my friends would 
 make me an allowance, but have nothing to do with my schemes, 
 by which alone I can keep my mind in health ; if my mind is dis- 
 tracted by these and fifty such contradictions from one person at 
 a time, who never knows what other people have said, but exhausts 
 me by asking for a repetition, and then reproaches me for wearing 
 the same subject till it is threadbare ; I ask how is it possible for 
 a blind man to enjoy either repose, confidence, or hope ? These 
 remarks would never have been printed, but I have no other 
 means of sending facts and truth into those circles from which I 
 have been most unjustly banished, where others can have their 
 say, and to which, again, readmission seems impossible without the 
 chance of introduction to any other. It is too often the blind 
 man's fate; but would not be so if the sighted would discontinue 
 to treat those blind in their power as their inferiors in intellectual
 
 BLIND JAMES WILSON. xliii 
 
 I have not forgotten the reproaches by which I was met and 
 worried in those homes and families where once I was looked up 
 to as the respected medical attendant, because I would not con- 
 sent, at the age of a little more than forty years, to be imprisoned 
 for the rest of my life in the Medical Almshouses on Epsom Downs, 
 to associate only with those strangers who find too late, and when 
 there's no return, that rooms, furniture, and rations, with juxta- 
 position to other disappointed, ruined, or disabled Pariahs of social 
 and domestic life do not constitute a home. There was something 
 like genuine humanity in the reflection of the American traveller, 
 * as he contemplated the inmates of an English almshouse :* 
 
 " The sick-rooms were marked with the same painful naked 
 neatness. Old people disposed of to die, economically tucked up 
 in rows against the walls, with no person to come near them, ex- 
 cept the one to nurse a dozen, form a dreadful series. Really there 
 should be some things sacred from classification. The fifth acts of 
 dramas, like whole human lives, should not pass like the shelving 
 of utensils that are one degree* short of worthless. I stood looking 
 a minute or two at an old man, whose only reply to ' Well ; how 
 are you now ?' was a hopeless lifting and dropping of the eyelids; 
 and I wondered whether a life was worth having that had such 
 possible terminations in its dark lottery." 
 
 " Solitudinem faciunt et pacem appellaut." 
 
 " Don't think of coming here," said one of the inmates of the 
 Governesses' Asylum onHaverstock Hill, to a lady of good family, 
 who thought of seeking her residence there, "it is little better 
 than a genteel Union-house ; there is everything that furniture 
 and food can supply, but nothing to compensate for our being 
 banished from the circle of our friends, and thrown together, at 
 our advanced period of life, with perfect strangers, who have 
 neither recollections, feelings, nor interests in common." If I were 
 a Romanist, I could understand and be willing to seek admission 
 to some one of the many monastic establishments congenial to 
 my taste, where, according to their convictions, there is a daily 
 routine of agreeable and elevating occupation, those of matured 
 years and vigorous intellect forming the connecting link between 
 those who are advanced in years and those who are in the process 
 of education sufficient to insure consistency, harmony, and respect; 
 but I would endure a great deal before I would consent to be im- 
 prisoned in any Protestant carcass of a monastery or its imitation, 
 where the severities of the monastic establishment are forced on 
 * "Famous Men and Famous Places," p. 190. Ward and Lock.
 
 Xliv AN ESSAY ON BLIND JAMES WILSON. 
 
 those who need most the home so truly portrayed by Dr. Howe, 
 and where a fattening staff enjoy all the blessings of social life. 
 Let any one, for instance, go to the Charter House, and inquire 
 into the state and treatment of the five blind old men, each in 
 his separate room, caring little for and seeing but little of each 
 other, and having but little communion, perhaps, with the other 
 seventy-five " reduced gentlemen," or at least supposed to be so. 
 At ten o'clock their companion, if they can pay for one, or their 
 relative, if they have one still true, must leave them, so say the 
 monastic rules still in force for these poor old men. If either 
 of the blind is ill in the night, and some are between seventy 
 and eighty, he must get out of bed, strike a light, put his candle 
 in the window, and if the watchman should see it he will call 
 some one, perhaps the porter or a nurse from the sick ward ; but 
 if a young gentleman within the walls, whose residence Sutton 
 never contemplated, should be ill, there are bells and nurses and 
 efficient attendance. The monastic rules are broken through to 
 allow a numerous and well-paid staff, to the number of some six 
 or seven families and their servants, to enjoy all the blessings 
 and refinements of domestic and social life, but one joj of which 
 cannot be extended to those for wkose happiness the charity was 
 principally if not exclusively founded. With an income of from 
 25,000 to 27,000 a year, and the valuable property of fifteen 
 acres of land, partly covered with buildings, in the very centre of 
 London, surely some scheme ought to be devised more in ac- 
 cordance with our advanced state of civilisation, which now seeks 
 to preserve and not to destroy home ties and claims for executing 
 the sole objects of the founder's will that of adding to the 
 happiness of the declining years of eighty gentlemen who had 
 felt adversity, and for the education of forty boys. Certainly 
 more happiness could be secured them in their home and among 
 their friends out of their share (t. e. two-thirds) of from 25,000 
 to 27,000 a year, and the proceeds of the sale of ten acres of 
 land close adjoining Smithfield, still leaving five acres for the 
 school. 
 
 " Although," says Hurlbut, " faith and hope abide in the hu- 
 man mind, yet greater than these is charity and greater far than 
 this favourite sentiment of the apostle is justice." 
 
 JOHN BIRD, 
 
 Member of the College of Surgeons, England, 
 and Day's Pensioner. 
 
 34, Newman Street, Oxford-street, 
 London, Oct. 1st, 1856.
 
 STATISTICS OF THE BLIND. 
 
 ACCORDING to the census of 1851, there were in Great Britain, Ireland, and 
 the British Isle^, 29,074 blind : L e., males, 14,861 ; females, 14,213 : viz., 
 London, 2,305 ; the rest of England, 14.598; Ireland, 7,587 ; Scotland, 3,010; 
 Wales, 1,403; British Isles, 171. 
 
 By the census of 1853 it was ascertained that the number of blind in 
 Prance amounted to 38,662. 
 
 According to the last report of the Brighton Blind School, it has been com- 
 puted that there were in existence from 10,000,000 to 15,000,000 of blind, and 
 that 160,000 die annually, more or less instructed and elevated, or neglected 
 and degraded. 
 
 Dr. Augustus Zeiine, director of the Blind Institution at Berlin, states that 
 the proportion of the blind to the sighted increase as we approach the equator. 
 The ratio of the blind to the sighted between the 50th and 70th parallels of 
 latitude he states to be one in 1,056 ; between the 40th and 50th, one in 800^ 
 between the 30th and 40th, one in 277 ; and between the 20th and 30th, one in 
 100. The greatest part of our East India possessions lies between the 10th and 
 25th parallels of latitude, and the rate of blindness in a population of nearly 
 125,000,000 must be immense, all of whom, in addition to those in the West 
 Indies, Africa, Australia, the Ionian Islands, and our North American pos- 
 sessions, have a right to look to the English government for inquiry, that the 
 amount, nature, and extent of the evil might plead its own cause, and that 
 the example of the British public at home might point out the most successful 
 course to be adopted by those philanthropists, who would wish to extend the 
 blessings of this hitherto neglected branch of civilisation to those afar off. 
 
 REPORT OF CENSUS, 1851 : POPULATION TABLES II. , p. 108. 
 
 The average proportion of the blind to the rest of the population of Great 
 Britain is one in 975 ; but a much larger proportion of blind is found in the 
 agricultural than in the manufacturing and mining districts. In the south- 
 western counties, viz., Wilts, Dorset, Devon, Cornwall, and Somerset, there 
 is an average of one blind in every 758 inhabitants. In striking contrast with 
 these are the following : 
 
 Yorkshire (West riding), one in 1,231 ; Cheshire and Lancashire, one in 
 1,167; Durham, one in 1,163 ; and Staffordshire, one in 1,083. 
 
 If a few benevolent persons in each county would contribute a few pounds, 
 they may commence a free library of books in relief type for the blind of each 
 county. It would be easy to find some gentleman in the county town who 
 would undertake the duty of honorary secretary. This also might be made the 
 means of obtaining, through private benevolence and zeal, that information
 
 xv FICTIONS AND FANCIES OF POETS. 
 
 which was so scanty in the Registrar-General's Report of the Census for 1851, 
 but which was BO much more full and complete in the Status of Disease for Ire- 
 land. Whoever would wish for much accurate and well-arranged information 
 on the subject of the deaf and dumb in Ireland, as well as the blind, will find 
 it in Mr. Assistant-Commissioner Wyld's report, as above described, which can be 
 obtained from any Parliamentary paper office, price Is. 6d. There appears but 
 little doubt that the interest awakened on the subject of the blind and the deaf 
 and dumb in Ireland, and the greater copiousness of their inquiry and report, 
 is due to the labours of Dr. Orpen, who, during a period of convalescence, many 
 years since, educated one of the deaf and dumb, and by his success and zeal 
 laid the foundation of that active spirit which now so generally prevails in 
 Ireland. 
 
 The cause of the blind has been but little advanced, if at all, by poets, 
 painters, or sculptors; their object generally in introducing a blind character 
 ia that of producing an affecting picture, by working up into misleading pre- 
 dominence helplessness, dependence, and incapacity. Romance writers have, 
 for the most part, till of late, followed the same pernicious practice. Had some 
 painter exerted his skill in the imaginative by portraying Alinerva instructing 
 Tiresias in the use of what ought to be translated " precious" and not " golden" 
 wand, which she is supposed to have given to enable him to discover his way 
 as well as the position and substance of things, it would have been more sug- 
 gestive of possibility and capacity than all the skilful productions illustrating 
 the equally fictitious account of the fate of Belisarius. 
 
 With such poets and writers, however, as I have before alluded to, the 
 names of Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton and of Mr. Charles Dickens must not be 
 included. I have never met with any other sighted writer, with the exception 
 of the Rev. Sydney Smith, who has so thoroughly conceived and described the 
 objectless state of vacuity in which we exist and move, and the consequent de- 
 pression it produces on'the mind, as the author of the following lines from 
 Nydia, the blind girl's song in the " Last Days of Pompeii : " 
 
 "Ye nave a world of light, 
 
 Where love in the loved rejoices ; 
 But the blind girl's home is the house of night, 
 
 And its beings are empty voice*. 
 As one in the realm below, 
 I stand by the streams of woe 1 
 I hear the vain shadows glide, 
 I feel their soft breath at my side. 
 And I thirst the loved forms to see, 
 
 And I stretch my fond arms aronnd, 
 And I catch but ^shapeless sound, 
 
 For the living are ghosts to me." 
 
 Very frequently have my attempts to make our condition better understood, 
 that our object*, motives, and wants might not be so constantly misapprehended 
 and misconceived, or misrepresented or thwarted, been met with reproaches 
 for morbidly dwelling on misfortunes that cannot be either cured or relieved ; 
 and that the blind should be made to forget their blindness by distracting their 
 attention, and cheering them with lively conversation on other subjects. The 
 useless and dependent blind man is reminded of his blindness atevery moment, 
 when alone and indolent, and ever conscious of his incapacity ; for it is only 
 when capable, useful, and with rational grounds for the hope of a higher 
 state of efficiency, and of the enjoyment of the benefits of exertion, that we are 
 not depressed by the consciousness of blindness. We must, as a matter of 
 course, yield to the caprices or fancies of those who notice us, who have us in 
 their power for the time, and our characters for good or for ill afterwards ; but
 
 BLINDNESS DESCRIBED BY THE BLIND. xlvii 
 
 we often feel bitterly that jeering is not cheering ; neither are we benefited by 
 that low and flippant style of sick-room tactics which, in difficult cases, or 
 those beyond the discernment or skill of the practitioner, seizes on some symp- 
 tom easy of treatment, and drags it forward into undue predominance, by 
 which the more serious and urgent symptoms are thrown into the shade, or 
 altogether ignored. Nothing cheers the blind so much, and leaves so great an 
 amount of permanent and sustaining comfort as plain sincerity, however short 
 the visit or the sentence, or however slight the promise made or the assistance 
 rendered. Blind poets often allude to the evils consequent on neglected blind- 
 ness ; but the full force of their expression is seldom felt by the unsuflering 
 sighted. Samson Agonistes is often read or sung for the gratification of the 
 five sensed ; but very seldom or never studied for the evidence it contains of 
 the possible sufferings of many thousand blind besides Milton himself, which 
 a very little reflection and humanity would relieve, counteract, or entirely 
 prevent. 
 
 Let any one reflect on that law of the human mind in obedience to which 
 " Aliquid agere semper appetit animus," 
 
 and they will understand how fully the truth of the following lines of Milton 
 is felt by every blind man who, day after day, with decreasing opportunities 
 of impression from, and of communion with, the external world of social life 
 and life-sustaining activity, has nothing to contemplate but the gradual stages 
 of his own mental deterioration and social degradation, of passing through 
 life, when it cannot be said we live; when, if not a near approach to, we are 
 on the certain road to that state in which many blind drag on a miserable 
 existence, that of "having done with life, but not yet dead:" 
 
 "I seek 
 
 This unfrequented place to find some ease; 
 Ease to the body some, none to the mind 
 From restless thoughts, that, like a deadly swarm 
 Of hornets arm'd, no sooner found alone, 
 But rush upon me thronging, and present 
 Times past, what once I was, and what am now." 
 
 The following lines, reprinted from an American newspaper, are equally 
 graphic. The last stanza, in which he describes the bewildered state of the 
 higher faculties, giving up, or rather losing control, is too true to the natural 
 course of events under such circumstances, but all of which might and ought 
 to be averted. 
 
 BLINDNESS. 
 
 [This poem, written by one who was suddenly stricken blind by an accident, 
 is taken from the New York Literary World.] 
 
 THE golden shores of sunshine, round me spreading, 
 
 Refuse a beam of light; 
 And fast my shattered soul is death-ward heading, 
 
 Wrecked on a sea of night ! 
 There is no angry tempest flapping sun-ward 
 
 Its black wings through the air : 
 The ruin, in a calm, is hurried onward 
 
 Through channels of despair !
 
 LINES ON BLINDNESS. 
 
 Around me is a darkness, omnipresent, 
 
 With boundless horror grim, 
 Descending from the zenith, ever crescent, 
 
 To the horizon's rim. 
 The golden stars, all charred and blacken'd by it, 
 
 Are swept out one by one; 
 My world is left, as if at Joshua's flat 
 
 A moonless Ajalon ! 
 
 m. 
 
 How Ion?, Lord, I cry In bitter anguish, 
 
 Must I be doomed alone 
 A chain'd and blinded Samson thus to languish, 
 
 In exile from the sun ? 
 Or must I hope for evermore surrender, 
 
 And turn my eyes on high, 
 To find, instead of broad and azure splendour, 
 
 A black curse on the sky ? 
 
 IV. 
 
 Alas ! as time sees gathering round me deeper 
 
 The universal cloud, 
 I feel like some wild horror-stricken sleeper, 
 
 Who wakens in a shroud ! 
 Like some poor wretch who closed his eyes at morning 
 
 Against the growing day, 
 And finds himself, without a prayer or warning, 
 
 A tenant of the clay ! 
 
 v. 
 
 Farewell, farewell, spice-islands of my childhood, 
 
 Where I have lingered long ; 
 Farewell the glories of the vale and wildwood, 
 
 The laughter and the song ! 
 Farewell the sunny pleasures you inherit, 
 
 For I am drifting forth ; 
 My helm deserted by my guardian spirit, 
 
 My prow towards the north !
 
 THE LIFE 
 
 JAMES WILSON, 
 
 WHO HAS BEEN 
 
 BLIND FROM HIS INFANCY; 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 OKIGINAL POEMS, HISTOKY OF THE BLIND, 4c. 
 
 ' But what avails it to record a name 
 
 1 That courts no rank among the sons of fame ? 
 
 BIRMINGHAM: 
 
 PRINTED BY J. W. SHOWELL, 26, UPPER TEMPLE-STREET. 
 1842.
 
 TO THE READER. 
 
 BEFORE I introduce myself to the reader, I 
 wish to call his attention to the following inte- 
 resting letters : 
 
 FROM ROBERT SOUTHEY, Esq. 
 
 " Keswick, June 30, 1834. 
 
 " I have read Mr. James Wilson's account of his own 
 life with much interest ; it is indeed a narrative which 
 may very properly accompariy the lives of those persons 
 who, being blind, have nevertheless rendered themselves 
 remarkable by their attainments, and thereby show how 
 much may be performed by patient and ingenious indus- 
 try under the most unfavourable and discouraging cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 "This testimony is given in the hope that it may be 
 useful to him in his travels. 
 
 ROBERT SOUTHEY."
 
 TO THE READER. 
 
 FROM CAPTAIN BASIL HALL, R.N. 
 
 " 132, George-street, Edinburgh, 
 Monday, 10th July, 1837. 
 
 " Dear Sir, 
 
 "I have read your 'Life' with much interest, 
 and I may add instruction, for it is always instructive to 
 see that cheerfulness and contentment are the result of 
 virtuous actions ; and that generous and manly efforts 
 in a good cause, though they muy not ;Jways be crowned 
 with what the world calls success, never fail, if duly 
 persevered in, to secure that peace of mind, which is, 
 after all, the best kind of success, even in a wordly 
 point of view. But in such a case as yours, this per- 
 severance requires no small faith in the principles upon 
 which it rests. 
 
 " I hare not had time to read your larger work, which 
 my children have carried off to the country, but I shall 
 go through it with attention, and I have no doubt with 
 advantage as well as amusement. 
 
 "I return the copy of the ' Life' which you were good 
 enough to lend me, and remain, 
 
 " With sincerest good wishes, 
 
 "Your most obed. humble servant, 
 
 "BASIL HALL."
 
 TO THE READER. 
 
 LINES AT PARTING ; 
 BY THE REV. THOMAS GRINFIELD. 
 
 "' Dear blind JAMES WILSON, think me not unkind, 
 If scarcely can I pity thee, though blind ; 
 Thy blindness is thy blessing. Had'st thou sight, 
 Ne'er had thy soul been thus enrich'd with light. 
 NeVr had'st thou won thy thousand scatter'd friends, 
 Where English, Irish, Scottish ground extends. 
 Now is thy full-fraught memory a store 
 Of Biographic and Historic lore ; 
 Now the sweet Poets in thy bosom find 
 A living home, and revel in thy mind : 
 There, sage intelligence, and laughing wit 
 There, truth and kindness, peace and patience, sit. 
 And pious Faith, twin'd with her sister Hope, 
 Holds to thine inward eye her telescope, 
 And shows the better world, where all is light, 
 That knows not blindness day that fears not night. 
 Evening, with thee, was wafted on the wing 
 Of converse, such as left nor stain, nor sting. 
 Long may'st thou here a blind-fold pilgrim rove ; 
 Blessing and bless'd ; while all that know thee, love ; 
 Then me^t thy gather'd friends in one bright home 
 above. 
 
 " THOMAS GRIXFIELD." 
 "June 27th, 1842, CLIFTON."
 
 TO THE READER. 
 
 LINES BY THE REV. C. J. FYNES CLINTON. 
 
 " Behold a man who long hath lived in night, 
 Illumin'd yet with more than common light ; 
 Illiterate yet much in letters skilPd ; 
 Unread whose mind with various lore is fill'd ; 
 And who, although he ne'er a book hath seen, 
 Yet long a vocal library hath been ! 
 A good divine, with Scripture truth well stor'd, 
 Who ne'er o'er Inspiration's page hath por'd. 
 Strange contradictions ! how to truth agree 
 These words, we learn from Wilson's history : 
 In him we see a man whom God hath taught, 
 And in his soul a calm submission wrought. 
 A compensation for the loss of sight, 
 God hath bestow'd in 'marv'llous ' inward ' light' ! 
 God's other gifts he hath more priz'd and us'd, 
 Because one usual gift hath been refus'd. 
 His mind enlighten'd with no common ray, 
 Can trace this light to th' want of light of day. 
 Let Wilson teach those bless'd with vision's sense 
 How great the grasp of zeal and diligence ; 
 Before their pow'r hills vanish vallies rise, 
 Through Grace's aid they can e'en reach the skies."
 
 TO THE READER. 9 
 
 The Provincial Press, throughout England, as 
 well as that of Scotland, has been unanimous 
 in their praise of the " History of the Blind, " 
 as will be seen from the following extracts : 
 
 OPINONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 " To appear a? a labourer in the garden of literature 
 under his disadvantages, and in an age when literature 
 is advancing with such rapid strides, must seem a bold 
 proceeding yet this boldne" 30 , deserves encouragement, 
 and this encouragement we are sure will be awarded in 
 the present instance ; for it will be as delightful an 
 occupation to read the very interesting book before us, 
 as it has been to the author to render it worthy of 
 public esteem : and if it.i readers could imbibe from its 
 perusal, some of that spirit of love and goodwill to all 
 mankind which breathes through the whole work, we 
 are sure they will arise from this volume informed in 
 mind, and improved in feeling." Doncaster Gazette. 
 
 " As a work of literary merit, it needs no commenda- 
 tion ; it exhibits correct sentiments, just views of the 
 subjects which fall in the author's way, and has, as 
 might be expected, a romantic interest about it to the 
 reader abounding in the meet curious, instructive, and 
 delightful incident. No one, we will venture to say, 
 B3
 
 10 TO THE READER. 
 
 can open the unassuming Memoir of its author, with 
 which the volume is prefaced, without being interested 
 in the man, and having every better sympathy of his 
 nature enlisted on behalf of the patient suffering and 
 intrepid enterprize of that interesting class of our fel- 
 low-beings." Aberdeen Journal. 
 
 "Here we have a Blind Biographer of the Blind, one 
 who both records and exemplifies the mental acquisitions 
 which may be made by men entirely deprived of the 
 most important sense through which knowledge is usu- 
 ally gained. Led by a natural sympathy, he has searched 
 the annals of past times, for the most illustrious exam- 
 ples of blind men, who have attained eminence in any 
 line by their talents. The volume is full of interesting 
 facts, as may well be imagined. No person can read it 
 without receiving much pleasure and instruction. The 
 author is a man of worth, as well as of talent ; and 
 though not favoured by fortune, he seems to be happy 
 in the possession of cheerful piety, and intellectual re- 
 sources." Leeds Mercury. 
 
 " He not only earned his livelihood by his industry, 
 but obtained a very extensive acquaintance with literature. 
 A few years ago he compiled this work, of which the 
 fourth edition is now before us. In the biography 
 which he gives of himself and others, his piety, humi- 
 lity, sound sense, extensive information, and good taste,
 
 TO THE READER. 11 
 
 are everywhere manifest. A more interesting book we 
 have seldom read, and we most heartily recommend it, 
 and the author to the kind attention of our readers." 
 Sheffield Independent. 
 
 " From this period, his life presents a succession of 
 struggles to obtain knowledge and a virtuous indepen- 
 dence ; and, although he is more sparing in his details of 
 the mental process by which his education was carried on, 
 and of his ideas and feelings in relation to the external 
 world, than we could wish, the description is interesting, 
 and considering his peculiar condition, valuable. The 
 manner in which the whole of the work is executed is 
 highly creditable ; and regarded as the production of a 
 blind and self-educated man, wonderful. We would 
 especially recommend the lives of Blacklock and Huber 
 as examples of the author's powers." Montrose Review. 
 
 "This work exhibits a vast deal of careful and anxious 
 research into the biographical history of these talented, 
 but unfortunate men. The author has gleaned his in- 
 formation from the best authorities ; and by judiciously 
 condensing and arranging his materials* has produced a 
 work at once attractive for its novelty, and the amount 
 of interesting information it conveys regarding the 
 distinguished individuals whose history it records." 
 Scotsman.
 
 12 TO THE READEB. 
 
 " It has been the object of the author to give the lives 
 of these individuals and their distinguishing characteris- 
 tics in one neat and portable volume : and the manner in 
 which he has accomplished this task, especially when we 
 consider that he has himself been blind from his infancy, 
 reflects great credit on his talents, zeal, and p p rsever- 
 ance. Having ourselves the pleasure of his acquaint- 
 ance, we can undertake to suy that he is a most modest, 
 deserving, and unassuming character." Liverpool Mer- 
 cury. 
 
 " His, however, h/is neither been an idle or a useless 
 life. He has copied the ant for the industry with which 
 he has collected and stored materials for the improve 1 - 
 ment and delight of his own mind ; and, although la- 
 bouring under the discouraging defect of sight, he has 
 succeeded in producing a volume of lives of eminent 
 blind persons, which will be found worthy of the peru- 
 sal of any individual, whatever may be his acquire- 
 ments." Glasgow Courier. 
 
 " Here is a curious book ! A History of the Blind, 
 written by a blind man ! And a very respectable book 
 it is, even were it the production of a man with all his 
 faculties entire ; but considered as the work of one who 
 from childhood has been blind, it cannot but be looked 
 upon with wonder and admiration, and excite the deep- 
 est interest wherever it is known. We have seen and
 
 TO THE READER. 13 
 
 conversed with him : and have found him a shrewd, 
 sensible, and modest man ; intelligent, full of informa- 
 tion upon many subjects, and well versed in most topics 
 of general conversation." Carlisle Journal. 
 
 " Wilson's Biography of the Blind. We are happy to 
 add our testimony in addition to that of many of our 
 contemporaries to the merits of this record of the talents, 
 perseverance, and virtues of those who, like our author, 
 have encountered the vicissitudes of life under the ca- 
 lamity of blindness. It is not only an interesting but 
 instructive book, shewing the powers of the mind under 
 one of the greatest discouragements, and the possible 
 attainment of knowledge, notwithstanding that the ac- 
 cess of wisdom is, at one entrance, quite shut out. In no 
 one instance is this better exemplified than in the life of 
 the author, an account of which prefaces his book, which, 
 as a record of the pursuits of knowledge under difficul- 
 ties, aggravated by blindness, has, we venture to say, 
 scarcely a parallel." Ipswich Journal.
 
 THE LIFE 
 
 JAMES WILSON 
 
 I WAS born May 24th, 1779, in Richmond, 
 State of Virginia, North America. My father, 
 John Wilson, was a native of Scotland. His 
 family was originally of Queen'S-ferry, a small 
 village in Fifeshire, about eleven miles from 
 Ediriburgh ; he had an uncle who emigrated to 
 America when a young man, as a mechanic, 
 where, by honest industry and prudent economy, 
 he soon amassed a considerable property. He 
 wrote for my father, who was then about eigh- 
 teen years of age, and promised to make him 
 his heir in case he would come to America. My 
 grandfather hesitated for some time, but at length 
 consented, and preparations were accordingly
 
 16 THE LIFE OF 
 
 made for my father's departure, who sailed from 
 Greenock, and arrived safe at Norfolk; from 
 whence he was forwarded by a merchant of 
 that place, and soon reached Richmond, where 
 he was gladly received by his uncle. This man 
 being in the decline of life, without a family, and 
 bowed down by infirmities, now looked upon 
 his nephew as the comfort of his life, and the 
 support of his declining years, and therefore en- 
 trusted him with the entire management of his 
 affairs, which he had the happiness of conduct- 
 ing to the old man's satisfaction. Thus he con- 
 tinued to act till the death of his uncle in 1775, 
 when he found himself in possession of 3000 
 value, in money and landed property. 
 
 Prior to this event, my father, on a visit to 
 Baltimore, got acquainted with my mother, 
 Elizabeth" Johnson. To her he was introduced 
 by an intimate friend, a Mr. Freeman, whom I 
 may have occasion to mention hereafter. His 
 uncle, on hearing this, could not bear the idea 
 of a matrimonial connexion during his life, and 
 so stood as a grand barrier to the completion of 
 his wishes ; but at the decease of the old man, 
 being left to think and act for himself, as soon 
 as his affairs were settled, he hastened to Balti-
 
 JAMES WILSON. 17 
 
 more, where the long-wished-for union took 
 place. 
 
 Shortly after his marriage he returned again 
 to Virginia. His whole mind was now bent to 
 the improvement of his plantation, and the ac- 
 quiring of a paternal inheritance for his offspring. 
 Flushed with the hope of spending the eve of 
 life on a fertile estate that amply rewarded the 
 hand of industry, of spending it in the bosom of 
 his family, and of tasting the pleasures which 
 domestic retirement affords, he followed his 
 avocation with alacrity, and could say in the 
 midst of his enjoyments, 
 
 " The Winter's night and Summer's day, 
 Glide imperceptibly away.'' 
 
 But, alas, how uncertain are human prospects 
 and worldly possessions ! How often do they 
 wither in the bud ; or bloom like the rose, to be 
 blasted when full blown ! How repeatedly do 
 they sicken, even in enjoyment, and what appears 
 at a distance like a beautiful verdant hill, de- 
 generates on a closer survey into a rugged barren 
 rock ! This moment the sky is bright, the air 
 is serene, and the sun of our prosperity beams 
 forth in unclouded splendour ; and in the next 
 blackness and darkness envelope us around, the
 
 18 THE LIFE OF 
 
 cloud of adversity bursts upon our devoted heads, 
 and we are overwhelmed by the storm. It was 
 so with my father, and, of course, the misfortune 
 was entailed on me. 
 
 The disturbance which took place at Boston 
 was at first considered only a riot ; but it shortly 
 began to assume a more formidable aspect. The 
 insurgents were soon embodied throughout all 
 the Colonies, and the insurrection became ge- 
 neral. Between them and the loyal party, no 
 neutrality was allowed, and every man was finally 
 under the necessity of joining one side or the 
 other. For some time, indeed, my father strove 
 to avoid taking an active part, but he was soon 
 convinced that this was totally impossible. 
 Many of his early friends had embraced the 
 cause of the Revolutionists, and were very anxious 
 that he should join their party. To excite him 
 to this, several advantageous offers were made 
 to him, and when this expedient failed, threats 
 were resorted to. Exercising the right which 
 belongs to every man, in politics, as well as in 
 religion, I mean the right of private judgment, 
 he in conjunction with a number of his neigh- 
 bours, enrolled himself in a corps of volunteers, 
 for the joint purpose of defending private pro-
 
 JAMES WILSON. 19 
 
 perty, and supporting the royal cause. The 
 iron hand of war was now stretched out, and un- 
 relenting cruelty had taken possession of the 
 hearts of those persons towards each other, who 
 were formerly united by the ties of neighbourly 
 affection ; consequently a band of enraged in- 
 cendiaries, about 150 in number, mostly black 
 slaves belonging to the neighbouring planters, 
 no doubt, excited by their masters, attacked my 
 father's house in his absence, plundered it of 
 every valuable article, and finally burned it to 
 the ground. From this alarming catastrophe, 
 my mother and a few domestics narrowly escaped 
 with their lives, and were obliged to seek shelter 
 in the neighbouring woods, where they were 
 exposed to the inclemency of the weather during 
 a severe winter night. It would indeed be pain- 
 ful to me to enter minutely into the sufferings 
 of my parents at this eventful period. Suffice 
 it to say, they were stript of their all, and were 
 left destitute and forlorn. 
 
 Down to the period of which I am now speak- 
 ing no political question had ever given rise to 
 more controversy than the American war. It is 
 not my business to enter into a discussion of 
 the subject ; all that remains necessary for me 
 c2
 
 20 THE LIFE OF 
 
 to say, is a word or two in relation to my father's 
 political conduct. That man who would not 
 rejoice in being able to speak well of a departed 
 parent, is not entitled to the name of man, and 
 cannot be characterised by the feelings common 
 to our nature. It affords me, then, a degree of 
 pleasure to reflect, that my father must have acted 
 throughout from principle. On this point, I am 
 perfectly satisfied when I consider him rejecting 
 emolument, despising threats, volunteering in 
 the royal cause, forsaking his own home, and 
 thereby leaving his family and property exposed, 
 braving every danger, serving during five cam- 
 paigns, and continuing active in the cause he 
 had espoused, as long as he could be useful 
 io it. 
 
 Being attached to that part of the army under 
 the immediate command of Lord Cornwallis, he 
 was taken prisoner when that gallant General 
 was compelled to surrender to a superior force. 
 His health, during these disasters, was much 
 impaired, and on being liberated, he now thought 
 of returning to Europe, in hopes that the air of 
 his native country would restore him to his 
 wonted state of health and vigour.
 
 JAMES WILSON. 21 
 
 My mother was now residing near New- York, 
 in the house of a friend, and thither he directed 
 his steps. There he abode for a year, and found 
 his health so much improved, that he determined 
 to lose no more time in America, and so pre- 
 pared to re-cross the Alantic 
 
 "And anxious to review his native shore, 
 
 " Upon the roaring waves embarked once more." 
 
 Bound for Liverpool, under the guidance of 
 Capt. Smith, the vessel set sail, and my parents 
 bid a final adieu to the shores of Columbia ; 
 what his feelings were at this crisis, it would be 
 difficult to describe. Separated from that coun- 
 try in which his best hopes centered cut off 
 from the enjoyment of his legal possessions, 
 without a probability of ever regaining them 
 impaired in his constitution, and crossed in all 
 his former prospects, we may view him mourning 
 over his misfortunes, and devising plans for his 
 future exertions. It is true, he might have con- 
 soled himself with the pleasing reflection, that 
 he was now about to revisit his native land, to 
 meet with his nearest relations and best friends, 
 and to spend the remainder of his days in the 
 place of his nativity, in peace and safety ; but how 
 vain and transient are the hopes of mortal man ! 
 c3
 
 22 THE LIFE OF 
 
 All hisjoys and sorrows, hopes and fears, anxious 
 cares, and premature plans, were shortly to 
 terminate with him, and I was to be left at four 
 years of age, ' destitute of a father. They had 
 scarcely lost sight of land when his disease re- 
 turned with increased violence, and twelve days 
 after the vessel left New- York, he expired. The 
 reader will not consider my situation utterly 
 deplorable, while he thinks that still I had a 
 mother to take care of me, and to assist me in 
 my childish years. True, I had a mother, and 
 a mother who survived my father ; but it was 
 only for twenty minutes ! for she, being in the 
 last state of pregnancy, the alarm occasioned by 
 his death brought on premature labour, and ter- 
 minated her existance. Thus, on a sudden, I 
 lost both father and mother, saw them sewed up 
 in the same hammock, and committed to a 
 watery grave. 
 
 " My mother, when I learned that them wast dead, 
 Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed * 
 Hover'd thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son, 
 Wretch, even then, life's journey just begun! 
 Perhaps thou gav'st me, though unfelt, a kiss, 
 Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss- 
 Ah, that maternal smile, it answers YES." 
 
 Here my misfortune did not end ; I was seized 
 by the small pox, and for want of a mother's
 
 JAMES WILSON. 23 
 
 care, and proper medical aid, this most loath- 
 some disease deprived me of my sight. After a 
 long and dangerous voyage, it being a hurricane 
 almost all the time, the Captain was obliged 
 to put into Belfast harbour, as the ship had 
 suffered much in her masts, rigging &c., and 
 the crew were nearly exhausted. When we ar- 
 rived there, I had not recovered from the effects 
 of my late illness, the symptoms of which were 
 at one period so violent, as to threaten instant 
 dissolution ; to make me the more comfortable, 
 I was sent immediately to Belfast. The follow- 
 ing circumstance is still fresh in my recollec- 
 tion : the vessel was four miles from the town, 
 and one of the seamen, who had been my nurse 
 from the time of my mother's death, and who, 
 during the passage, rendered me all the assist- 
 ance which his situation allowed, kept me on 
 his knee in the boat, and this kind-hearted in- 
 dividual administered the only cordial he pos- 
 sessed, which was rum and water. 
 
 There was no time lost by Captain Smith in 
 applying to the church-warden in my behalf, 
 and, in order to prevent me from becoming a 
 charge to the parish, he deposited in his hands 
 a sum of money, sufficient to pay the expence
 
 24 THE LIFE OF 
 
 of supporting me for five years, and I was soon 
 provided with a nurse. 
 
 The reader, by this time, will be curious 
 to know how I came by the information con- 
 tained in the preceding pages. I am in- 
 debted for these particulars, at least so far as 
 they concern my family's misfortunes in Ame- 
 rica, to the kindness of Mr. Freeman, who came 
 passenger in the same ship. With this worthy 
 gentleman, my mother had remained during my 
 father's absence, and as I have already observ- 
 ed, she was received as one of the family, and 
 treated with all that humanity and attention 
 which her forlorn situation required. Mr. Free- 
 man had been the sincere friend of my father 
 from a short time after he landed in America ; 
 their age and their pursuits were the same, and 
 their habits, tastes, and dispositions were con- 
 genial. Under these circumstances, a friend- 
 ship was commenced, which, through a long 
 series of vicissitudes and misfortunes, remain 
 unbroken a friendship which only ended with 
 my father's life. Although, at one time, party 
 politics ran high, and although my father joined 
 the royal standard, while Mr. Freeman was a 
 zealous republican, such were the liberal sen-
 
 JAMES WILSOX. 25 
 
 timents of this gentleman, that he never enter- 
 tained towards his friend the least hostile feel- 
 ing; and when my father was injured in his 
 property, and persecuted for his opinions, he 
 was always sure to find an asylum under the roof 
 of this good and worthy man. While the vessel 
 in which I came to Ireland was under repair, 
 he and his family resided at Palmer's Hotel, 
 Belfast, where, in the hearing of Mrs. Palmer, 
 he related the particulars of his early acquaint- 
 ance with his deceased friend, and the subse- 
 quent misfortunes which befel him in America, 
 till the time of the mournful catastrophe which I 
 have already described ; this he did in such a 
 simple and affecting manner, as not only caused 
 him to shed tears himself, but also produced 
 the same emotion in those who heard him. 
 Some important papers belonging to my father 
 were preserved by Mr. F., and given to the 
 church-warden. They consisted of old letters, 
 and a journal which my father had kept from 
 the time of his departure from Scotland till he 
 left America, in which every particular con- 
 nected with his history, during that eventful 
 period, was carefully noted ; but Mr. Scott, the 
 church-warden, without examination, pronoun- 
 ced them totally useless, and they were sent
 
 26 THE LIFE OF 
 
 home to my nurse in the trunk with my clothes. 
 The poor old woman was unable, herself, to 
 ascertain their contents, nor did she ever think 
 of shewing them to any intelligent person who 
 could turn them to rny advantage ; she consi- 
 dered them mere waste paper, and used to light 
 her pipe with them, and roll her flax while spin- 
 ning. A little play-fellow of mine, who sought 
 my company after school hours, for the pur- 
 pose of getting me to tell stories to him, (for I 
 was at that time famed over the neighbourhood 
 for my legendary tales) would occasionally read 
 to me such scraps of my father's letters and 
 journal, as he found scattered about the room. 
 From this circumstance, I still remember the 
 names of Generals Howe, Clinton, and Robin- 
 son, which occasionally occurred, and with 
 whom my father had corresponded, during the 
 course of his military services in America. 
 Much blame has been attached to Mr. Robert 
 Scott, for not having had my case more nar- 
 rowly enquired into, while Captain Smith and 
 Mr. Freeman were in Belfast. From the testi- 
 mony of two such respectable individuals, and 
 the information the above documents would 
 probably have afforded, my claims might have 
 been substantiated, and a compensation ob-
 
 JAMES WILSON. 27 
 
 tained for me in lieu of my father's services, and 
 the losses he sustained during the revolutionary 
 war. But Mr. Scott, being a man of the world, 
 thought he had fulfilled his duty when he had 
 provided me with a nurse, and seen me comfort- 
 ably lodged. Some years after, on being spo- 
 ken to respecting his conduct in this affair, he 
 replied "that he had enough business of his own 
 to attend to, without giving himself unnecessary 
 trouble." Thus was I neglected, at a time when 
 something might have been done for me, by 
 those whose duty it was to take care of me ; 
 but I was an infant, an orphan, and a stranger, 
 and there was no one to step forward on my 
 behalf. Mr. Freeman, to whom I owe so much, 
 and whose memory I shall always cherish with 
 the most grateful recollection, was so ill, during 
 his stay in Belfast, that he was confined to his 
 room. As soon as the vessel was refitted, he 
 proceeded with his family to England, promis- 
 ing Mr. and Mrs. Palmer, on his departure, to 
 write concerning me, and to take me back with 
 him to America, having only come for the bene- 
 fit of his health, and being about to return as 
 soon as a change should take place for the bet- 
 ter. His intention, he said, was to place me 
 under a proper master, and have me taught mu-
 
 28 THE LIFE OF 
 
 sic ; but I never heard from him after, and from 
 the state of his health, when he parted with 
 me, I conclude that he has long been dead. 
 
 The ship being now completely repaired, the 
 benevolent Captain and kind-hearted crew left 
 me in Belfast a total stranger. No one knew 
 me, or had ever heard anything of my family. 
 My situation at this time was truly pitiable, as 
 I was deprived of my parents at the time I most 
 required their care ; still, however, I was under 
 the protection of a merciful Providence, " who 
 can temper the wind to the shorn lamb. " In 
 His word He has promised to be a Father to 
 the fatherless, and to me this gracious saying 
 has certainly been fulfilled. Many of the first 
 families in the kingdom I can rank among my 
 kindest friends ; and to nothing can I attribute 
 this, but to the influence of His providence, 
 who inclines the hearts of men to that which 
 is pleasing in His sight. 
 
 My nurse was a good-natured old woman, 
 and the anxiety which she shewed for my re- 
 covery, was much greater than could have been 
 expected from a stranger ; night after night she 
 sat by me, sttended to my calls and adminis- 
 tered to my wants, with all that maternal ten-
 
 JAMES WILSON. 29 
 
 derness which a fond mother manifests to the 
 child of her bosom. The prayers which she 
 offered up in my behalf, and the tears of 
 sympathy which stole down her aged cheek, 
 bespoke a heart that could feel for the miseries 
 of a fellow-creature. Contrary to all expecta- 
 tion, I recovered, and in the course of a few 
 months I was able to grope my way through 
 the house alone. Shortly after this, my right 
 eye was couched by the late Surgeon Wilson, 
 and in consequence of this operation, I could 
 soon discern surrounding objects and their 
 various colours. This was certainly a great 
 mercy, for, though the enjoyment did not con- 
 tinue long, yet the recollection of it affords me 
 pleasure even to the present day. 
 
 One day, when about seven years of age, as I 
 crossed the street, I was attacked and dreadfully 
 mangled by an ill-natured cow. This accident 
 nearly cost me my life, and deprived me of that 
 sight which was, in a great degree restored, but 
 which I have never since enjoyed: thus it was the 
 will of Providence to baffle the efforts of human 
 skill, and to doom me to perpetual blindness ; 
 and it is this reflection that enables me to bear 
 my misfortune without repining. And thank - 
 D
 
 30 THE LIFE OF 
 
 ful do I feel for my preservation through the 
 many trying scenes of difficulty and peril to 
 which I have been exposed ever since the days 
 of my childhood. May I never forget the good- 
 ness of that beneficent Being to whom I owe 
 so much; whose tender mercies are over all 
 his works ; and to whom, for favours and bles- 
 sings, past and present, I would ascribe the 
 homage of a humble and grateful heart. 
 
 -" Fond memory here revives 
 
 " Each dream-like image of the days gone by ; 
 " What time on other shores, * * * * 
 " I chased the scaly brood, or mid the throng 
 " Of giddy school-boys, sported in the waves, 
 " Or with young triumph saw the tiny ship, 
 " Fair miniature of such as bear afar 
 "The thunder of Britannia, in the race 
 " Shoot past her rivals." 
 
 When I was about eight or nine years of age, 
 I was not only projector, but workman, for all 
 the children in the neighbourhood. I amused 
 myself occasionally in constructing little wind- 
 mills, cars, and ships. A kind friend made me 
 a present of a little ship, a perfect model of the 
 Royal George, which was lost at Spithead, and 
 this toy was esteemed by me as one of the 
 most precious gifts I could possibly receive. 
 Having made myself perfectly acquainted with
 
 JAMES WILSON. 31 
 
 its structure, I thought of making one for my- 
 self, upon the same principle. I procured a 
 piece of wood, and with no other tools than an 
 old knife, a chisel, and a hammer, completed, 
 (not, however, without the loss of some blood,) 
 my first attempt at ship-building. This pleased 
 my juvenile companions so well, that I had 
 every day numerous applications for ships. 
 They procured me the wood, and my ambition 
 was not a little augmented, when I found that I 
 was applied to by boys considerably my seniors, 
 and possessing many advantages of which I 
 never had to boast; before I resigned this trade, 
 I completed my fourteenth ship. There was in 
 the neighbourhood a piece of water, about one 
 hundred feet in circumference, appropriated to 
 the accommodation of some flocks of ducks 
 and geese. In the evening we were accustomed 
 to dispossess these hereditary occupiers of their 
 native element, and form our fleet into two 
 divisions; the English were distinguished by 
 red and blue streamers the French, by white. 
 Two boys, with their breeches rolled up to their 
 knees, were generally employed to direct the 
 movements of each squadron, he on the right 
 being distinguished by the name of Admiral, 
 and the boy on the left by that of Commodore.
 
 8 THE LIFE OP 
 
 The plan of attack was, that each ship should 
 be so far from her companions, as to preserve 
 the regular sailing distance, and at the com- 
 mencement of the action, the English vessels 
 were so placed as always to have the weather- 
 gage of the enemy. Each English ship formed 
 a triangle with her two French opponents, and 
 so, when the wind blew, she passed between 
 them, and this was called breaking the line. 
 It was the duty of the Admiral and Commodore 
 of each fleet, at this alarming juncture, to 
 restore order, and form the lines anew. The 
 English were drawn up in the same position 
 which they occupied at the commencement of 
 the action ; the French were placed about two 
 feet in advance, with their sterns towards the 
 English, and the wind filling the sails of both 
 equally, caused the French to fly and the Eng- 
 lish to pursue. At this moment the shout of 
 triumph was raised, and the joyful cry of victory ! 
 victory ! victory ! burst forth from the infant 
 multitude who were witnesses of our naval 
 exploit. 
 
 " Loud shouts of triumph from the victors rise, 
 " Roll'd o'er the main, and echo to the skies." 
 
 I have been somewhat particular in my de-
 
 JAMES WILSON. 33 
 
 tails of these Lilliputian engagements, hoping 
 that it may prove useful, in case this little book 
 should chance to fall into the hands of any 
 benevolent person, who might read it to some 
 blind boy, to whom it might serve as a stimulus 
 to spur him on to similar amusements. It 
 could not fail to produce, to such a boy, a 
 two-fold advantage, as the exercise would be 
 conducive to his health, (which he could not 
 expect to enjoy sitting in the chimney-corner, 
 brooding over his misfortunes,) and it would 
 effectually destroy that timidity and melancholy 
 which are generally the fruits of a sedentary 
 life, and would inspire him with a confidence 
 and courage, which he could not expect to 
 attain in an inactive state. 
 
 A few years after this event, my foster-mother 
 died, and again I was left forlorn and without a 
 friend. In this precarious state, the only means 
 I had of obtaining subsistence were apparently 
 ill-suited to my situation. The reader may, 
 perhaps, smile when I inform him, that at this 
 time I was considered by many as a man of 
 letters, and that I earned my bread in con- 
 sequence of my practical engagements in rela- 
 tion to them. This, indeed, was the case ; for 
 D 3
 
 34 THE LIFE OF 
 
 I was employed to carry letters to and from 
 the offices of the different merchants in the 
 town and neighbourhood. My punctuality and 
 despatch in this respect were much in my 
 favour, so that I was generally employed in 
 preference to those who enjoyed the use of all 
 their senses. In the course of time my sphere 
 was enlarged, and often, on important business, 
 I have borne despatches to the distance of thirty 
 or forty miles. This was certainly not a little 
 extraordinary, in a place where the confusion 
 and bustle of business subjected me to so many 
 dangers. 
 
 Being advised to attempt the study of music, 
 1 made an almost hopeless effort, as I had no 
 person to instruct me ; but, although I could 
 only scrape a few tunes which I had learned 
 by ear, this did not prevent me from being 
 called on occasionally to officiate at dances. 
 For no matter how despicable the musician, or 
 insignificant his instrument, the sound operates 
 like an invisible charm elevates the passions 
 of the lower orders makes them shake their 
 grief and their cares off at their heels, and, 
 moving "on the light fantastic toe," causes 
 them to forget the bitterness of the past, and
 
 JAMES WILSON. 35 
 
 prevents them from brooding over the prospect 
 of future evils. 
 
 " And happy, though my harsh touch, falt'ring still, 
 " But mock'd all time aud marr'd the dancer's skill ; 
 " Yet would the village praise my woiid'rous power, 
 " And dance, forgetful of the noon-tide hour." 
 
 I soon found, in consequence of this avoca- 
 tion, that I was exposed to numerous vices. I 
 was obliged to associate with the dregs of 
 society, to witness many scenes of folly and 
 great wickedness, and to stay out late at nights, 
 and thus expose myself to dangers of different 
 kinds. As my feelings were continually at vari- 
 ance with this occupation, which I adopted more 
 from necessity than from choice, I soon gave it 
 up, and composed a farewell address to my 
 fiddle. 
 
 The family in which I lived was both poor 
 and illiterate, and hence I was a considerable 
 time before I acquired any taste for knowledge. 
 They were generous and humane to all who 
 required their help, and were also strictly 
 honest in their dealings, and would not defraud 
 on any account whatever. I am happy to have 
 it in my power to notice these traits of cha- 
 racter, which certainly reflect credit on their.
 
 36 THE LIFE OF 
 
 memories; yet, praiseworthy as these may 
 appear, they were deficient in their duty to me, 
 so far as the improvement of my mind was con- 
 cerned. It was painful, indeed, in my youth, 
 to behold both in towns and villages, the igno- 
 rance and wickedness which prevailed among 
 children of both sexes swearing, lying, and 
 throwing stones ; and the feelings of the pas- 
 sengers, while walking along, were not only 
 pained by their profane language, but their 
 personal safety was also in danger, from the 
 stones which were carelessly and mischievously 
 flung around. But, thanks be to God, this evil 
 is at length disappearing ; the remedy applied 
 has been successful, and that remedy is the 
 Sunday School. In the districts where these 
 institutions are established, the children, both 
 in their appearance and manners, have under- 
 gone a great change for the better. Instead of 
 injuring their neighbours, and breaking the 
 Lord's Day, they are now taught to read the 
 Scriptures, which, under the Divine blessing, 
 qualifies them to fill the various situations in 
 society. They are here taught that stealing is 
 sinful, and that lying, swearing, and bearing 
 false witness, subject them to the wrath of Hea- 
 ven. They are also taught to honour their
 
 JAMES WILSON. 37 
 
 parents, that they may obtain the blessing which 
 God has promised unto the children of obedi- 
 ence, " and that their days may be long in the 
 land, which the Lord their God giveth them ;" 
 and they are likewise strictly enjoined to ob- 
 serve the Sabbath-day. These doctrines may 
 be lightly looked upon by some, but it is in a 
 breach of these laws, and a disregard of these 
 truths, that all the crimes originate, which dis- 
 grace the character of man, and degrade him 
 below the beasts of the field. 
 
 1 present these circumstances to my reader, 
 that he may know the kind of society in which 
 I mingled during the first fifteen years of my 
 life. It cannot be imagined that much infor- 
 mation could be derived from such a source as 
 this. 
 
 About this time I began to pay some attention 
 to books ; but my first course of reading was, 
 indeed, of very indifferent description, as I was 
 obliged to listen to what was most convenient. 
 However, I made the best of what I heard, and 
 in a short time, in conjunction with a boy of 
 my own age who read to me, 1 was master of 
 the principal circumstances in Jack the Giant
 
 38 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Killer, Valentine and Orson, Robinson Crusoe, 
 and Gulliver's Travels. The subject of these 
 formed my taste, was swallowed with avidity, 
 and inspired me with a degree of enthusiasm 
 which awakes even at the present day, on hear- 
 ing a new and interesting work read. These, 
 however, were soon laid aside for novels and 
 romances, several hundred volumes of which 
 I procured and got read in the course of three 
 years; and, although there are few passages 
 out of all I heard then wliich I think worth a 
 place in my recollection now, yet, at that time 
 I was well acquainted with the most interest- 
 ing characters and events contained hi these 
 works. My present dislike to this kind of 
 reading I do not entertain without reason ; for, 
 first, a great deal of precious time is thereby 
 lost that might be more usefully employed ; 
 secondly, the judgment is left without exercise, 
 while the passions are inflamed; and thirdly, 
 those who are much in the habit of novel read- 
 ing, seldom have a taste for books of any other 
 kind, and hence their judgments of men and 
 things must differ as far from his who has seen 
 the world, as most novels differ from real life. I 
 am well aware that some of them are well written, 
 and display ability in the author, have the cir- 
 cumstances well disposed, the characters ably
 
 JAMES WILSON. 39 
 
 delineated, and the interest preserved till the 
 final close of the last scene, which generally 
 proves impressive and affecting. But to what 
 does all this tend ? (Except in recording the 
 customs and manners of the times which they 
 represent,) only to mislead the imagination, to 
 foster a morbid sensibility to fictitious woe, and 
 a romantic admiration of ideal and unattainable 
 perfection, without strengthening the judgment, 
 cultivating active benevolence, or a just appre- 
 ciation of real worth. In contrasting the cha- 
 racters of Tom Jones and Sir Charles Grandi- 
 son, with those of the Duke of Sully and Lord 
 Clarendon, we observe a striking difference 
 between the real and fictitious personages ; yet, 
 the mere novel reader is neither improved nor 
 amused in reading the lives of these illustrious 
 characters, while the tear of sympathy steals 
 down his cheek, as he pores over the imaginary 
 sufferings of the heroes and heroines of romance. 
 There are, I know, many novels to which the 
 above observations do not apply, particularly 
 some of modern date, which are very superior 
 to those above mentioned; but still the best, 
 even of these, present overcharged pictures of 
 real life, and, in proportion as they are fascinat- 
 ing, they indispose the mind to more serious 
 reading.
 
 40 THE LIFE OF 
 
 I now engaged with Mr. Gordon, Editor of 
 the Belfast News-Letter, to deliver the papers 
 to subscribers on the days of publication. Half 
 a dozen papers, and two shillings per week, 
 were my wages in this service. The papers I 
 lent to tradesmen at a halfpenny an hour, and 
 when the time allotted to the first set of cus- 
 tomers was expired, it afforded me an agreeable 
 exercise to collect and distribute them to others. 
 While in this employment, I had sometimes to 
 go four or five miles into the country ; but, 
 having an accurate knowledge of the surround- 
 ing neighbourhood, and being well acquainted 
 with every gentleman's seat in the vicinity of 
 Belfast, however remotely situated from the 
 public road, I was able to execute my business 
 with exactness and despatch. 
 
 I hope the account of the following adventure 
 will be acceptable to my readers, as it will illus- 
 trate what I have said, respecting my perambu- 
 lations through the town and neighbourhood 
 where I was reared. 
 
 On a winter's evening, in 1797, as I stood in 
 one of the principal streets, I was accosted by 
 a person, who, in the southern accent, enquired
 
 JAMES WILSON. 41 
 
 its name. After I had imparted the desired in- 
 formation, he told me that he was a soldier, and 
 belonged to a detachment of the Limerick 
 Militia, which had marched into Belfast that 
 day. " I went out," said he, " to look for the 
 sergeant, to get the pay, and being a stranger 
 in the town, I lost myself; I left my wife and 
 my firelock in the lodging house, and I forgot 
 the name both of the street and of the people 
 that own the house. I have been wandering 
 about these two or three hours, and nobody can 
 tell me where they are." I enquired, if he had 
 observed any particular building near the place 
 where he left his wife. " I believe," replied he, 
 "after turning one or two corners, I observed a 
 church." I considered for a moment, in which 
 of the streets in that quarter there was a lodging 
 house, and recollected that a Mrs. Tawny kept 
 a house of entertainment in William-street. I 
 bade him follow me, and took good care to keep 
 before him, that he should not discover that I 
 was blind. At that time there were no houses 
 on the S.W. side of William-street; and front- 
 ing the houses on the N. E., there was a deep 
 ditch, which served as a receptacle for all the 
 nuisances of the neighbourhood. As the night 
 was very dark, and there were no lamps in that
 
 42 THE LIFE OF 
 
 direction, his eyes were of no service to him 
 whatever; consequently he resigned himself 
 entirely to my guidance. We had to cross the 
 puddle already mentioned, by six stepping 
 stones ; and though there was no danger what- 
 ever of being drowned, it was more than probable 
 that, had the soldier got a dip, his plight, on 
 coming out, would have been far different from 
 that in which he appeared at parade. I groped 
 with my staff for the first stepping stone, and 
 getting on it, I took hold of his hand, and bade 
 him put his foot where mine was, warning him 
 at the same time, of the consequence of not ba- 
 lancing well. In this manner I conducted him 
 from one stone to another, till I landed him 
 safely on the opposite side, and was highly 
 diverted to hear him observe, that my eyes were 
 better than his. I brought him to Mrs. Tawny's, 
 and left him standing at the door, while I went 
 in to make the necessary enquiry. I soon 
 learned that I had guessed right, for I found his 
 wife almost in despair at his absence, but I bade 
 her be of good cheer, for I had brought her 
 husband to her ; and so saying, I called him 
 in. His wife was rejoiced to see him again, 
 and saluted him, by crying out, " Bless me, dear 
 Barney, where have you been ? I thought you
 
 JAMES WILSON. 43 
 
 were lost !" " Arrah, my dear, I couldn't find 
 my way back," said he, " if it hadn't been for 
 this decent man, that shewed me the house." 
 " And more shame for you," said the landlady, 
 " for you have your eye-sight, and yet you must 
 be guided to your lodging by a blind man." On 
 hearing this, they were both astonished, and 
 began heartily to bless themselves. As their 
 astonishment, however, subsided, the hospitality 
 of their Irish hearts began to display itself; for, 
 on discovering that I was only a mortal being, 
 and partook of the same nature and appetite as 
 themselves, I was cordially pressed to stay and 
 partake of the fare, that Barney, in all his pere- 
 grinations through the streets, had taken good 
 care to bring safely to his wife, I, however, de- 
 clined the kind offer, and left them to drink their 
 tea themselves, and enjoy the happiness that 
 succeeds, when groundless fears and trivial dis- 
 appointments have vanished away. 
 
 At this time the French Revolution gave a 
 sudden turn to the posture of affairs in Europe, 
 and every mail which arrived brought an ac- 
 count of some important change in the political 
 state of that unhappy country. All the powers 
 on the Continent now armed against France, 
 
 E2
 
 44 THE LIFE OF 
 
 and she, on her part, received them with a firm- 
 ness which reflected honour upon her arms. 
 The public mind at this period was agitated, 
 and the wisest politicians of the day were filled 
 with alarm, and dreaded the consequences which 
 were likely to result, from a revolution that 
 threatened 1 every government in Europe with a 
 total overthrow. For my part, I had little to 
 lose as an individual, and the only concern I 
 felt was for the safety of my country ; politics 
 therefore became my favourite study, and I 
 soon got acquainted with the passing news of 
 the day. 
 
 A late writer, in speaking of memory, calls it 
 " the storehouse of the mind ;" but it has often 
 been compared to a well-constructed arch, on 
 which the more weight is laid, the stronger it 
 becomes. This I found to be the case with 
 mine, for the more I committed to it, the more 
 I found it was capable of receiving and retain- 
 ing. In what manner ideas of extrinsic objects, 
 and notions of certain relations, can be preserved 
 in the mind, it is impossible to determine ; but 
 we are sure that the thing is so, though the man- 
 ner be unknown to us. As ideas and recollec- 
 tions are merely immaterial things, which can
 
 JAMES WILSON. 45 
 
 in no wise partake of the known properties of 
 matter, so, the receptacle in which they are 
 lodged, must be of a similar nature. That mat- 
 ter and spirit are united, we have no reason to 
 doubt ; for the pleasures of memory, in the mo- 
 ment of reflection, are evidently operative on 
 the body, inasmuch as its motions and gestures 
 are expressive of the inward feelings of the 
 mind. As the memory, therefore, is more or 
 less capacious, as the store of ideas laid up 
 there is greater or less, and as they are pleasing 
 or unpleasing in themselves, so the impressions 
 derived from memory, are either powerful or 
 weak, either pleasing or painful. As my taste 
 always inclined to literature, and the knowledge 
 of things valuable in themselves, the remem- 
 brance of them is, consequently, a never failing 
 source of amusement to me, whether I be found 
 " in the void waste, or in the city full." 
 
 " Oh, Memory ! how pure, how exquisite are thy pleasures ! 
 " To thee, arid to thy sister Hope, the bright handmaids who 
 " support us through the rude path of existence, how deeply 
 " tire all men indebted !'' 
 
 It was now, indeed, that I was able to appre- 
 ciate the pleasures of memory in a superior 
 degree, for I knew the names, stations, and 
 Admirals, of almost all the ships in the navy, 
 and was also acquainted with the number, facing, 
 E 3
 
 46 THE LIFE OF 
 
 and name of every regiment in the army, ac- 
 cording to the respective towns, cities, or shires 
 from which they were raised. I served, of 
 course, as an Army and Navy List for the poor 
 in the neighbourhood, who had relations in 
 either of these departments, and was capable 
 of informing them of all the general news. 
 
 The following anecdote shews the powers of 
 my memory at that period. Being invited by 
 a friend to spend an evening at his house, I 
 had scarcely sat down when three gentlemen 
 entered ; and the conversation turning on the 
 news of the day, I was requested by my friend 
 to repeat the names of as many of the ships of 
 the British navy as I could recollect, telling 
 me at the same time that he had a particular 
 reason for making the request. I commenced, 
 and my friend marked them down as I went 
 along, until I had repeated six hundred and 
 twenty, when he stopped me, saying I had gone 
 far enough. The cause of the request was then 
 explained. One of the gentlemen had wagered 
 a supper that I could not mention five hundred ; 
 he, however, expressed himself much pleased 
 at his loss, having been, as he acknowledged, 
 highly entertained by the experiment.
 
 JAMES WILSON. 47 
 
 Although, at this time, I had little relish for 
 any other kind of reading but newspapers and 
 novels, yet I was not wholly insensible to the 
 charms of poetry. I amused myself with making 
 verses at intervals, but I could never produce 
 any thing in that way which pleased myself. 
 My acquaintances, particularly the young peo- 
 ple, gave me sufficient employment in com- 
 posing epigrams, love songs, epistles and acros- 
 tics, in praise of their sweet-hearts. Many of 
 those juvenile productions are still extant, and, 
 though miserable in themselves, continue to 
 find admirers among those classes for whom 
 they were composed. 
 
 " The lovely maniac fled the haunts of men, 
 " Traced the sea-beach, or sought the lonely glen." 
 
 The first of my productions which met the 
 public eye, was " An elegy on the death of an 
 unfortunate Female." This poor maniac was 
 known for more than twenty years hi the neigh- 
 bourhood of Belfast, by the appellation of Mad 
 Mary, and was at last found dead in the ruins 
 of an old house, where she had taken refuge 
 during a stormy winter night. This little piece 
 being much noticed, on account of the subject
 
 48 THE LIFE OF 
 
 having excited a general interest, I was advised 
 to collect my best productions, and give them to 
 the public. Encouraged by the patronage of a 
 few generous individuals, I set about the work, 
 which in few months made its appearance. 
 
 I will now, for the amusement of my readers, 
 insert a few extracts from this little collec- 
 tion. 
 
 Ah ! you, who sport in pleasure's moru, 
 
 Who ne'er have felt a pain, 
 Who never trod on trouble's thorn, 
 
 Or heard affliction's plain ; 
 
 And you, whom Heaven has doubly blest 
 With light Oh, gift divine ! 
 
 And whom misfortunes never press'd 
 With misery's sons to join : 
 
 Ah ! did you know what others feel, 
 
 Beneath the shafts of woe, 
 You'd kindly blunt the pointed steel 
 
 That's aim'd from sorrow's bow. 
 
 AN ADDRESS TO THE SUN. 
 
 Oh ! glorious orb ! thy genial rays 
 Promote and renovate tny lays ; 
 Though HE, who gave thee all thy charms, 
 Has folded me in darkness' arms.
 
 JAMES WILSON. 
 
 But on that day when thou shalt shine 
 No more, in native beams divine ; 
 When Erin's self, my muse's pride, 
 Shall be o'erwhelmed in ruin's tide ; 
 And mankind summon'd from the tomb 
 To hear their everlasting doom ; 
 The veil that now enshrouds my eyes 
 From viewing THEE and ambient skies, 
 Shall be withdrawn, while 'fulgent day 
 Shall o'er my eye-balls lambent play. 
 
 TO MEMORY. 
 
 COME MEMORY, and paint those scenes 
 
 I knew when I was young, 
 When meadows bloomed, and vernal greens, 
 
 By Nature's band were sung. 
 
 I mean those hours which I have known, 
 
 Ere light from me withdrew 
 When blossoms seemed just newly blown, 
 
 And wet with sparkling dew. 
 
 Yet, ah ! forbear, kind Memory cease 
 
 The picture thus to scan ! 
 Let all my feelings rest in peace , 
 
 3 Tis prudence' better plan ; 
 
 For why should I on other days, 
 With such reflections turn, 
 
 Since I'm deprived of vision's rays, 
 Which sadly makes me mourn ?
 
 50 THE LIFE OF 
 
 And when I backward turn my mind, 
 
 I feel of sorrow's pain, 
 And weep for joys I left behind, 
 
 On childhood's flowery plain ; 
 
 Yet now, through intellectual eyes, 
 
 Upon a happier shore, 
 And circled with eternal skies, 
 
 Youth sweetly smiles once more. 
 
 Futurity displays the scene, 
 
 Religion lends her aid, 
 And decks with flowers for ever green, 
 
 And blooms that ne'er can fade. 
 
 Oh, happy time ! when will it come, 
 Then I shall quit this sphere, 
 
 And find an everlasting home, 
 With peace and friendship there 1 
 
 Throughout this chequer'd life 'tis mine 
 
 To feel affliction's rod; 
 But soon I'll overstep the line 
 
 That keeps me from my God. 
 
 A DREAM. 
 
 Night o'er the sky her sable mantle spread, 
 And all around was hushed in sweet repose, 
 Nor silence suffered from intrusive noise ; 
 Save now and then, the owl's unpleasing scream,
 
 JAMES WILSON. 5] 
 
 From yon old pile of ancient grandeur sent, 
 
 Broke in, obtrusive on the tranquil hours; 
 
 Reflection took my mind, and o'er my thoughts 
 
 Unnumbered visions flit with rapid speed ; 
 
 I thought on man, and all his childish joys, 
 
 From rosy infancy to palsied age 
 
 And oft the sigh of recollection stole, 
 
 Then heaved my breast with sorrow's poignant throb ; 
 
 For ah ! I feel what some have never felt, 
 
 That is, to be in one continued night, 
 
 From January's sun, till dark December's eve ; 
 
 And strange it is, when sleep commands to rest, 
 
 While gloomy darkness spreads her lurid veil, 
 
 That then by being blind, I suffer most ! 
 
 sight ! what art thou I were my final words, 
 When sleep with leaden fingers sealed my eyes 
 Now free from care, and tumult's torturing din, 
 Young fancy led me from my humble cot ; 
 
 And far from space, where suns unnumbered burn, 
 
 1 with her took a grand excursive flight, 
 Then back again to Erin's hills of green, 
 
 I with her wandered ; nor did night, nor gloom, 
 One step intrude to shade the prospects round. 
 I saw sweet Scarvagh, in her loveliest garb, 
 And all her trees in summer's dress were clad ; 
 Her honoured mansion, seat of peace and love, 
 Gave rapture to my breast, for there I've found 
 True hospitality, which once did grace 
 The halls of Erin's chiefs of old ; 
 But soon, alas ! the hum of nightly bands, 
 And vagrants, strolling on in quest of sin, 
 Bore fancy from me with her golden train, 
 And once more left me in the folds of night.
 
 52 THE LIFE OF 
 
 VERSES 
 
 ON THE 
 
 RICHMOND NATIONAL INSTITUTION FOR THE BLIND, 
 
 IN IRELAND. 
 
 You from whose eyes the tender tear, 
 Can gently drop for human woe, 
 
 Oh ! pour your soft compassion here, 
 And here your generous boon bestow. 
 
 O think what joys to you are giv'n, 
 Which they must never hope to share. 
 
 To view the bright expanse of heav'n, 
 While sweet emotion speaks in prayer. 
 
 For them the morning's rosy light, 
 In vain the glowing east o'erspreads 
 
 To them the empress of the night 
 In vain her silvery lustre sheds. 
 
 The blossoms of the scented spring 
 In vain their silken leaves unfold ; 
 
 And o'er each mead profusely fling 
 Their varied tints of living gold. 
 
 In vain the twilight shade descends 
 In magic softness, pure, serene ; 
 
 In vain the star of evening blends 
 Its dewj light to gild the scene.
 
 JAMES WILSON. 53 
 
 Let infidels, presumptuous ask 
 With reason's boasted pride elate, 
 
 But be the Christian's sacred task, 
 To cheer his brother's hapless fate. 
 
 Be yours, with liberal hand, to prove 
 The feelings of a grateful mind, 
 
 Be yours, by acts of pious love, 
 To soothe the sorrows of the blind. 
 
 Be his, to speak the Saviour's name, 
 To hearts that catch the joyful sound, 
 
 To kindle pure devotion's flame, 
 And shed immortal glory round. 
 
 Thus, when the veil of darkness spread, 
 In all the gloom of endless night, 
 
 " Let there be light," Jehovah said, 
 Creation heard, and all was light. 
 
 On the above passages the reader is left to 
 comment as he thinks proper. Composed by 
 one destitute of sight, of learning, and even of 
 an intelligent friend who could correct my com- 
 positions, they must, of course, stand very low- 
 in the scale of merit. Still, however, they were 
 of service to me, and I found the public rather 
 disposed to pity, than to censure, an humble 
 individual so far beneath the notice of the 
 critic.
 
 54 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Lord Cornwallis, who succeeded Earl Camden 
 in the vice-royalty of Ireland, in making the 
 tour of that kingdom in 1799, arrived at Bel- 
 fast. This appearing a favourable opportunity, 
 I was determined to petition his Excellency in 
 relation to the losses of my family in America. 
 A petition was accordingly drawn up, stating 
 my father's possessions in that country, his ser- 
 vices in the army, and his death on his passage 
 returning to Europe, as already related. This 
 petition I put into the hands of the late George 
 Joy, Esq. who kindly offered to present it, bid- 
 ding me to call on him the next day ; I did so, 
 but to my utter disappointment, I found that 
 Mr. Joy, on dressing for dinner, the preceding 
 evening, had unfortunately forgotten my petition, 
 in the pocket of his coat which he had worn 
 in the morning. Disappointed in this quarter, I 
 resolved on following his lordship to Annadale, 
 the seat of the late Honourable Chichester Skeff- 
 ington, as he had left Belfast for that place at se- 
 ven o'clock in the morning. I did so, and again 
 I was fated to feel the bitter pang of disappoint- 
 ment ; for, on arriving at Annadale, I was in- 
 formed, that his Excellency had, a few hours 
 before, left that for Dublin. Thus terminated 
 the only hope I ever had of obtaining an inde-
 
 JAMES WILSON. 55 
 
 pendence ; but, as there was no use in repining, 
 I endeavoured to submit to the disappointment 
 with resignation. 
 
 At this time I turned my attention to a new 
 occupation, and fixed on that of an itinerant 
 dealer ; for this purpose I borrowed a few 
 pounds from a friend, with which I purchased 
 a stock of such hardware articles as might suit 
 the country people. 
 
 " Being at the bottom of fortune's wheel, 
 every new revolution might raise me, but could 
 not possibly depress me lower ; " and hence I 
 commenced my peregrinations in the country. 
 While employed in this way, I had an opportu- 
 nity of meeting with a variety of characters, 
 and of mingling in different societies. It is but 
 justice here to remark, that among the peasantry 
 of Ulster, I have met with many individuals, 
 whose good nature, benevolent dispositions, and 
 kind hospitality, were not only an honour to 
 their country, but even to human nature. 
 
 While vending my hardware through the 
 country, I found this occupation ill-suited to 
 my circumstances ; I was exposed to many in- 
 
 F2
 
 56 THE LIFE OF 
 
 conveniences, and experienced much fatigue and 
 distress, both of body and mind. The want of 
 sight made it difficult for me to steer my course 
 aright, and I was often exposed both to hard- 
 ships and danger. Many a time have I heard 
 the thunder roll over my head, and felt the 
 teeming rain drench me from head to foot, 
 while I have unknowingly passed by a place of 
 shelter, or stood like a statue, not knowing 
 which way to turn, though within a few paces 
 of a house. Still, however, while reflecting on 
 all these circumstances, and on the sympathy 
 which I was sure to meet with after my suffer- 
 ings, I have been often led to conclude that 
 the balance was in my farour, when compared 
 with many who enjoyed the use of every sense ; 
 there is no rose without its thorn, neither is 
 there any state without its comforts. While 
 travelling, I was in little danger from horses 
 and carriages in motion, as the noise warned 
 me of their approach ; hence, if I was injured, 
 it was generally from something at rest. It 
 may be imagined, however, that I was not 
 much exposed to harm in the day-time, nor will 
 it be supposed, that any person could be so 
 cruel as intentionally to injure a blind man ; 
 yet I have suffered repeatedly from the intern-
 
 JAMES WILSON. 57 
 
 perance of some, and the brutality of others ; 
 and, had I entrusted entirely to the good nature 
 of the multitude, I might have been ridden 
 down oftener than the mind would be willing to 
 suppose. 
 
 In the early part of my life, I prided myself 
 much on my activity as a pedestrian. I have 
 frequently travelled through a part of the coun- 
 try with which I was totally unacquainted, at 
 the rate of thirty miles in a day ; but this was 
 only in cases of emergency, for my usual rate 
 was fifteen to twenty miles per day; this, how- 
 ever, is too much for a person of my situation, 
 for supposing a blind man sets out to travel 
 alone on foot, to a distance of twenty miles, he 
 will experience much more fatigue, and go over 
 more ground than one will do who has his sight, 
 in a journey of twice that length. This is evi- 
 dent, from the zig-zag manner in which he 
 traverses the road, and as Hammond says, in 
 his description of the drunken man, staggering 
 home, " from the serpentine manner in which 
 he goes, he makes as much of a mile as possi- 
 ble." In the summer time, the blind man is 
 subject to shock his whole frame, by trampling 
 in the cart ruts that are dried upon the road, 
 
 F3
 
 58 THE LIFE OF 
 
 and in the winter, he travels through thick and 
 thin; it is impossible for him to choose his 
 steps, and at that season of the year the water 
 is collected into puddles, which he cannot 
 avoid ; and, hence, in walking to a distance, he 
 is sure to wet both his feet and legs, which is 
 not only disagreeable, but frequently injurious 
 to the health. At one time he bruises his foot 
 against a stone; at another time he sprains 
 his ankle ; and frequently, when stepping out 
 quickly, his foot conies in contact with some- 
 thing unexpectedly, by which he is thrown on 
 his face. Thus, in travelling on foot, he la- 
 bours under various disadvantages, unknown to 
 those who are blest with the sense of sight. 
 
 The above accidents, however, are not the only 
 misfortunes connected with the state of the blind ; 
 in walking alone, he often wanders out of his di- 
 rect way, sometimes into fields, and sometimes 
 into bye-paths, so that the greater part of the 
 day may be spent before he can rectify his mis- 
 take. Often have I been in this predicament 
 myself, and frequently have I sat a considerable 
 part of the day, listening by the way-side for a 
 passing foot, or the joyful sound of the human
 
 JAMES WILSON. 59 
 
 voice ; and sometimes I have been obliged, in 
 the evening, to retrace the ground I had gone 
 over in the morning, and thus endured much 
 fatigue of body and mind before I could regain 
 the road from which I wandered. How differ- 
 ent, then, is my situation from his who has his 
 sight : from the impediments which cause me 
 so much pain, he is happily exempt ; while he 
 pursues his journey he can trace the various 
 beauties of the surrounding scenery ; the pic- 
 turesque landscape, the spreading oak, the 
 flowing brook, the towering mountain that 
 hides its blue summit in the clouds, the majes- 
 tic ocean dashing on the " shelly shore, " and 
 the vast expansive arch of heaven, bespangled 
 with innumerable stars, have all, for him, their 
 respective beauties, and fail not to awaken 
 pleasing and agreeable reflections ; but to the 
 blind, these pleasures are unknown, the charms 
 of nature are concealed under an impenetrable 
 veil, and the God of light has placed between 
 him, and silent, but animated nature, an insu- 
 perable barrier. 
 
 " While to the breezy upland led, 
 
 At noon, or blushing eve, or morn, 
 He hears the red-breast o'er his head, 
 
 While round him breathes the scented thorn ;
 
 60 THE LIFE OF 
 
 But oh ! instead of Nature's face, 
 
 Hills, dales, and woods, and streams combined; 
 Instead of tints, and forms, and grace, 
 
 Night's blackest mantle shrouds the blind." 
 
 A blind person always inclines to the hand in 
 which his staff is carried, and this often has a 
 tendency to lead him astray, when he travels 
 on a road with which he is unacquainted. But 
 were there no danger arising from this, still, 
 from his situation, he is liable to imminent 
 dangers on his way, from which nothing can 
 preserve him but an all-directing Providence ; 
 and this I have frequently experienced. 
 
 In a cold winter evening, as I travelled to 
 Lisburn, I happened to wander from the direct 
 road into a lane, which led immediately to the 
 canal. Unconscious of the danger to which I 
 was exposed, I was stepping on pretty freely, 
 when my attention was suddenly arrested by a 
 cry of " Stop ! stop ! " Of the first and second 
 call I took no notice, as I judged some other 
 person was addressed ; but at the third warning 
 I stopped, when a woman came running up 
 almost breathless, and asked me where I was
 
 JAMES WILSON. 61 
 
 going; I replied, "ToLisburn." "No," said 
 she, "you are going direct to the canal, and 
 three or four steps more would have plunged 
 you into it." My heart glowed with thankful- 
 ness to the all-wise Disposer of events, and to 
 the woman who was made the instrument of my 
 preservation. She said, she happened to come 
 to the door to throw out some slops, when she 
 saw me posting on ; and thinking, from my 
 manner of walking, that I was intoxicated, she 
 became alarmed for my safety, as a person had 
 been drowned in the very same place, not many 
 days before. 
 
 About three miles from Strabane, at the lit- 
 tle village of Clady, there is a bridge across 
 the Finn. I had just passed along it on my 
 way to Strabane, when a man enquired if I 
 had been conducted over by any person ; I 
 replied in the negative. " It was a fortunate 
 circumstance then, indeed," said he, "that you 
 kept the left side, for the wall is broken down 
 at the right side, just above the centre arch, 
 and the river is there very rapid, and the bank 
 on each side steep. Had you fallen in, you 
 must have been inevitably lost."
 
 62 THE LIFE OF 
 
 The following instance of Providential pre- 
 servation is still more singular than either of 
 the preceding. From Ballyinena, I was one 
 day going out to the Rev. Robert Stewart's. 
 At the end of the town, the road divides, one 
 branch leads to Ballymena, and the other to 
 Broughshane. In the Forks an old well was 
 opened for the purpose of sinking a pump. It 
 being two o'clock in the day, the workmen were 
 all at dinner, and I was groping about with my 
 staff to ascertain the turn of the road, when a 
 man bawled out to me to stand still, and not 
 move a single step. I did so ; when he came 
 forward, he told me that two steps more would 
 have hurried me into a well eighty feet deep, 
 and half full of water. He held me by the 
 arm, and made me put forth my staff to feel, 
 and be convinced of my danger ; when I found 
 that I was actually not more than one yard 
 from the edge, the blood ran cold in my veins ; 
 I was scarcely able to stand erect 
 
 u And every limb, unstrung, with terror shook." 
 
 These are but a few of the numerous instances 
 of hair-breadth escapes, which I have experi- 
 enced in my peregrinations through life.
 
 JAMES WILSON. 63 
 
 When in the slippery paths of youth, 
 With heedless steps I ran ; 
 
 Thine arm, unseen, conveyed me safe, 
 And led me up to man. 
 
 When, from this point, I survey the uphill road 
 of life, over which I have passed, in the course 
 of my pilgrimage ; when I think of the many 
 dangers to which I have been exposed, both 
 by land and water ; the very remembrance of 
 those things, even at this distance of time, 
 makes me shudder. These reflections bring 
 before my mind, in all its force and beauty, 
 that gracious promise, " I will bring the blind 
 by a way that they know not ; I will lead them 
 into paths that they have not known." Only, 
 " Be strong, and of a good courage ; be not 
 afraid, neither be thou dismayed : for the Lord 
 thy God is with thee, whithersoever thou go- 
 est." In the course of my life I have had 
 many mercies to be grateful for ; good health 
 has not been among the least of the blessings 
 I have enjoyed. I am now between sixty and 
 seventy years of age. During the whole of 
 that period, I have never had recourse to me- 
 dical advice. To add to this, I have always 
 been blest with a cheerful and contented mind,
 
 64 THE LIFE OF 
 
 with an uncommon flow of spirits. I could 
 laugh and joke with the most of people. Often, 
 in returning, wet and weary, from one of those 
 long journeys, which I was obliged to take in 
 search of employment, when seated at my own 
 fireside, surrounded by my family, the toils and 
 fatigues I had undergone were all forgotten, 
 and I enjoyed my frugal meal with a degree of 
 pleasure, perhaps unknown to those who dine 
 at the tables of kings and princes. How 
 thankful ought I to be to the Giver of all Mer- 
 cies, who has looked out, and provided for me, 
 as he has done, and has, as it were, led me 
 about by the hand, from the days of my in- 
 fancy to the present hour, in health and safety ! 
 And in the language of the Psalmist, I can truly 
 say, " Goodness and mercy have followed me 
 all the days of my life." Reader! whoever 
 thou art, may you and I, and all who are near 
 and dear to us, in this world, be enabled to 
 realise the concluding sentence of the in- 
 spired writer, that is, "May we dwell in the 
 presence of the Lord for ever." Amen. 
 
 In the year 1800, there was an institution 
 established in Belfast, for the purpose of in- 
 structing those who were deprived of sight, in
 
 JAMES WILSON. 65 
 
 such employments as were suited to tlieir un- 
 fortunate situation ; it was styled, " The Asy- 
 lum for the Blind." As it is of vast im- 
 portance to the well-being of society, that all 
 who have not independent fortunes should be 
 enabled to support themselves by their own 
 industry, for which the blind are seldom quali- 
 fied, owing to their unhappy state, and the want 
 of a suitable education, this Asylum promised 
 to be of the greatest utility. I was entered on 
 the books of the Institution as an apprentice, 
 and continued in it, until within a few months 
 of its dissolution. When I left the Asylum, 
 I proposed working on my own account, and 
 having acquired a partial knowledge of the 
 upholstery business, I was soon employed. 
 My friends exerted themselves on this occa- 
 sion to promote my interest, and though there 
 were several individuals who had learned the 
 business in the same Asylum, and who could 
 work better than I, yet I generally had the 
 preference. Many of my friends went so far 
 as even to contrive work for me, for which they 
 had not immediate use, merely to keep me em- 
 ployed. Although my pecuniary circumstances 
 were not much improved, yet, I now experienced 
 a greater share of happiness than I had ever
 
 66 THE LIFE OF 
 
 enjoyed before. I was in a situation that af- 
 forded me better opportunities of acquiring 
 knowledge than I had ever possessed ; previous- 
 ly to this time I also met with much friendship 
 from many to whom I was but very little known ; 
 and when it was understood that I was desi- 
 rous of information, I generally received assist- 
 ance in this way, even where I could not have 
 expected it ; either the lady of the house in 
 which I was employed, or one of the children, 
 generally read to me while I was at work. Thus 
 I improved my mind, while labouring for my 
 support. Time glided pleasantly away, no room 
 being left for idle speculations or gloomy for- 
 bodings. 
 
 In 1803, a number of young men formed a 
 Heading Society in Belfast, and, although they 
 were all mechanics, yet some of them were also 
 men of taste, and possessed considerable ta- 
 lents. Into this society I was admitted a 
 member, at the same time that I was kindly 
 exempted from the expense attending its regu- 
 lations. One of the members was a man of the 
 most extraordinary character I had ever known ; 
 and, therefore, I attached myself to him. To 
 good -nature, he united an original genius,
 
 JAMES WILSON. 67 
 
 good taste, and great sensibility ; and, had an 
 early education been his lot, or had his mind 
 been sufficiently expanded by study, he would 
 have become an ornament to society ; but he 
 was totally devoid of ambition, and never had 
 a wish to rise above the rank of an humble 
 mechanic. This man proposed to read to me, 
 if I would procure books : our stated time for 
 this employment was from nine o'clock in the 
 evening until one in the morning, in the winter 
 season, and from seven until eleven in the sum- 
 mer; when I was not particularly engaged, I 
 frequently attended him at other intervals. At 
 breakfast he had half an hour allotted to him, at 
 dinner a whole hour, and every minute of this 
 was filled up, for he generally read to me be- 
 tween every cup of tea. By this means I com- 
 mitted to memory a vast collection of pieces, 
 both in prose and verse, which I still retain, 
 and which have been, until the present hour, 
 a never-failing source of amusement to me. 
 The more I heard read, the more my desire for 
 knowledge increased, while I learned, at the 
 same time, that " the more a man knows, he 
 finds he knows the less." 
 
 So ardent and steady was my desire for 
 
 G2
 
 68 THE LIFE OF 
 
 knowledge at that time, that I could never bear 
 to be absent a single night from my friend; and 
 often, when walking in the country, where I 
 could have been comfortably accommodated, 
 I have travelled three or four miles, in a se- 
 vere winter night, to be at my post in time. 
 Pinched with cold, and drenched with rain, I 
 have many a time sat down and listened for 
 several hours together, to the writings of Plu- 
 tarch, Rollin, or Clarendon. For seven or 
 eight years we continued this course of read- 
 ing ; but to give a catalogue of the authors we 
 perused in that time, would be foreign to my 
 present purpose : suffice it to say, that every 
 book in the English language, which we could 
 procure, was read with avidity. Ancient and 
 Modern History, Poetry, Biography, Essays, 
 Magazines, Voyages, Travels, &c. were among 
 our studies. 
 
 How precious these opportunities were, and 
 how dear the recollection of them are to me 
 even now, can only be adequately understood by 
 the few who have realized similar enjoyments, 
 and can indulge in similar recollections. 
 
 Thus, and otherwise, I was enabled to collect
 
 JAMES WILSON. 69 
 
 a number of miscellaneous facts in sundry de- 
 partments of knowledge, but without being in 
 the possession of the links necessary to bind 
 them together, and form them into a connected 
 system. But even as detached facts they were 
 valuable ; and when I obtained one fact that 
 seemed new, striking, and important, I felt a 
 thrill to my very soul, as if I had found a bles- 
 sing : and so I had. 
 
 " And thou, sweet Poetry, them loveliest maid, 
 " Still first to fly where sensual joys invade. 
 " Unfit in these degenerate times of shame 
 " To catch the heart, or strike for honest fame." 
 
 Good poetry is one of the richest traits that 
 a cultivated mind can possibly enjoy. To 
 poetry I was devoted from my youth not as 
 an author, but an admirer. In the course of 
 my acquaintance with this delightful art, I se- 
 lected a large number of choice pieces, which 
 I considered to contain the beauties of all the 
 authors I had heard read. Those treasures 
 I laid up in the storehouse of my memory: 
 and they were to me, upon all occasions, a 
 never-failing source of intellectual enjoyment. 
 
 G3
 
 70 THE LIFE OF 
 
 At night, when in bed, I repeated poetry to 
 myself, until I fell asleep. When travelling 
 alone on the public road, I beguiled away 
 many a tedious mile by poetry. When seated 
 on the outside of a stage coach, while my fel- 
 low-travellers were admiring the beauties of the 
 surrounding scenery, I was regaling my mind 
 with some of these splendid descriptions in 
 which the poets of all ages and every country 
 have indulged with so much rapture and de- 
 light I mean "the glories of the rising and 
 the setting sun." My merit, if merit I have 
 any, consisted simply in this : in the first 
 place, it pleased Providence to give me an 
 insatiable desire for knowledge ; secondly, 
 kind friends were willing to encourage that 
 desire, by reading to me ; thirdly, I was gifted 
 with a powerful memory, that retained every 
 thing that was presented to it. I, being poor, 
 and having no books of my own, I was obliged 
 to make my memory my library : and she was 
 ever faithful to the trust committed to her keep- 
 ing. There is a paper in the Adventurer, which 
 was written about the time I was born, and 
 which I think will describe my literary pre- 
 tensions much better than anything which I can 
 say of myself. It is as follows :
 
 JAMES WILSON. 71 
 
 " To read the works of celebrated writers, to 
 comprehend their systems, and retain their rea- 
 sonings, is a task by no means equal to com- 
 mon capacities ; nor is he to be counted either 
 idle or useless, who has stored his mind with 
 these treasures, and can retail them out to 
 others, who have less time and less inclination 
 for such studies." 
 
 But to resume : I continued, occasionally, to 
 compose some pieces of poetry, consisting, prin- 
 cipally, of songs, written on the wit and good 
 humour that prevailed in the club of which I 
 was a member, with a few prologues to plays 
 that were performed by the young men in the 
 neighbourhood, for charitable purposes. These 
 I collected together to prepare them for the 
 press, but on examination, 1 found they had ma- 
 ny faults, which had at first escaped my notice ; 
 and though warmly urged by my friends to give 
 them to the public, yet I was so well con- 
 vinced they were destitute of merit, that I com- 
 mitted them to the flames, with the first two 
 acts of a play, called " The Irish Exile's Re- 
 turn." 
 
 The person to whom I had entrusted the
 
 72 THE LIFE OF 
 
 management of my little domestic concerns, 
 did not hesitate to take advantage of my ignor- 
 ance of such affairs, as well as my situation. 
 Many of my friends felt for me, and strongly 
 advised me to marry, as 1 should be more com- 
 fortable, and be out of the power of such un- 
 principled people. They said, that could I meet 
 with a sober steady woman, who would be likely 
 to make a good wife, the change would be ad- 
 vantageous to me in more respects than one. 
 I objected to this proposal, on the ground of 
 my inability to provide for a family ; the pre- 
 carious manner of earning my subsistence put 
 such a change beyond my expectation it was 
 enough for me to suffer alone I could not 
 think of entailing misery upon others. This 
 they could not deny ; but they then reasoned 
 in this way ; no one required the kind assist- 
 ance of an affectionate wife more than a blind 
 man ; that I had not one friend, one relative to 
 look after me. What then would become of me 
 in my old age ? I should be helpless in the ex- 
 treme. These, and many other arguments, 
 were used, to induce me to assent to a measure 
 which they thought would finally conduce to 
 my happiness. Their anticipations have since 
 been fully realized I am happy. I had the
 
 JAMES WILSON. 73 
 
 pleasure of being known, for some time, to a 
 young woman who lived in the neighbourhood ; 
 having met her occasionally at the house of a 
 friend, whom I used to visit. Her plain sense 
 and unassuming manners, recommended her to 
 my notice ; but what most endeared her to me 
 was her filial piety. Her aged mother and she 
 lived together, loved and respected by all who 
 knew them; and without any other dependence 
 than the work of her own hands, she supported 
 herself and parent. I thought that she, who 
 was such an attentive and feeling daughter, 
 must necessarily make an affectionate wife 
 and in this opinion I was not disappointed. 
 Filial affection is so endearing a virtue, that, 
 whenever we meet with an instance of it, whe- 
 ther in an exalted or an humble station, the ex- 
 hibition of it must be, to the benevolent mind, 
 a source of the highest gratification. It is a 
 duty which our gracious and kind Creator has 
 enjoined us to fulfil, commanding us in his holy 
 word " to honour our father and mother," as 
 an inducement or motive to the performance 
 of which, he has promised that our " days shall 
 be long in the land;" and he who has promised 
 this, is able and willing to perform it.
 
 74 THE LIFE OF 
 
 I addressed a copy of verses to her, who had 
 now become the object of my affection, which 
 were printed in the first collection of my Poems. 
 They had the desired effect they produced an 
 impression, which never has been, and I may 
 venture to say, never will be effaced. After the 
 expiration of two years, our correspondence 
 happily terminated, and we were married on 
 the 27th of November, 1802. Though she 
 could boast of no high descent, no shewy ac- 
 complishments, nor of having brought me a 
 fortune, yet she was possessed of such qualities 
 as every virtuous mind will admire : she was 
 sober, modest, and unassuming ; and though 
 her education was not according to the rules 
 laid down by Mrs. Hamilton, yet she under- 
 stood, in her own way, the principles of do- 
 mestic economy, prudence and frugality. Well 
 has the wise man described a virtuous woman, 
 when he says " Who can find a virtuous wo- 
 man ? for her price is far above rubies." 
 
 We have now lived forty years together, 
 happy in each other's society ; and though we 
 have had many trials in the course of that time, 
 such as the loss of children, bad health, and 
 distressed circumstances, a murmur has never
 
 JAMES WILSON. 75 
 
 escaped her lips. In our pilgrimage here be- 
 low, these little crosses are necessary they 
 teach us to know ourselves. Were we to 
 pass the little time, which is allotted to us in 
 this world, without trials and afflictions, we 
 should soon forget that we are dependent 
 creatures ; but a merciful Providence has wise- 
 ly guarded us against this danger, by letting us 
 feel our infirmities, and how little we can do 
 for ourselves. We are assured in the word of 
 God, that he never afflicts his creatures but 
 for their good, and when these visitations are 
 sanctified by his Holy Spirit, they then become 
 profitable to us, they wean us from the world, 
 and we become tired of its flimsy joys, and 
 imaginary pleasures ; we learn from them 
 "that here we have no abiding city but we 
 seek one to come." 
 
 We have had eleven children, of whom four 
 only are now alive ; and, with the exception of 
 the diseases common to children, those living 
 are all healthy and stout. It is certainly one 
 of the greatest blessings which parents can en- 
 joy, to see a vigorous offspring rise around 
 them, and to listen to their innocent prattle. 
 How often have I been struck with the force
 
 76 THE LIFE OF 
 
 and beauty of that passage in holy writ, where 
 Jesus, in order to teach humility to his disci- 
 ples, " called a little child unto him, and set 
 him in the midst of them." To descend from 
 the Divine Author of our religion to creatures 
 like ourselves, we read in Cox's life of that 
 pious reformer, Melancthon, that he was par- 
 ticularly fond of his children; and, notwith- 
 standing the multiplicity of his engagements, 
 the discharge of which, in those perilous times, 
 was attended with difficulties and danger, he 
 would often descend from that lofty station, 
 where genius and public opinion had enthroned 
 him, to the more endearing scenes of domestic 
 retirement. A Frenchman one day found him 
 holding a book in one hand, and with the other 
 rocking his child's cradle. Upon his manifest- 
 ing considerable surprise, Melancthon took oc- 
 casion from this incident, to converse with his 
 visitor on the duties of parents, and on the 
 regard of Heaven for little children, in such a 
 pious and affectionate manner, that his asto- 
 nishment was quickly transformed into admi- 
 ration. Sully tells us, that Henry IV. used to 
 steal from the pomp and pageantry of a Court, 
 to amuse himself with his children. On one 
 occasion, a gentleman, who waited upon his
 
 JAMES WILSON. 77 
 
 Majesty, was told that he was in the Great 
 Gallery the Courtier found his way to the 
 appartment, and on his entrance, how was he 
 surprised, when he found this great man play- 
 ing with his children, having one of them on 
 his back, and chasing two others along the 
 Gallery. The Monarch asked the Courtier if 
 he was a father ; being answered in the nega- 
 tive, "Well," said Henry, "this is a pleasure 
 which none but a father can feel." 
 
 " There is in childhood a holy ignorance a 
 " beautiful credulity a sort of sanctity that we 
 " cannot contemplate without something of the 
 " reverential feeling, with which one should ap- 
 " proach beings of a celestial nature. The em- 
 " press of divine nature is, as it were, fresh on 
 " infant spirit fresh and unsullied by contact 
 " with this withering world, one trembles lest an 
 " impure breath should dim the clearness of 
 "its bright mirror; and how perpetually must 
 " those who are in the habit of contemplating 
 " childhood, of studying the characters of little 
 " children feel and repeat to their own hearts, 
 " * of such is the Kingdom of Heaven.' Aye, 
 " which of us, of the wisest amongst us, may 
 " not stoop to receive instruction and rebuke 
 H
 
 78 THE LIFE OF 
 
 " from the character of a little child ? Which 
 " of us, by comparison with its sublime simpli- 
 " city, has not reason to blush for the littleness, 
 " the insincerity, the worldliness, the degene- 
 " racy of liis own ? How often has the inno- 
 " cent remark, the artless question, the natural 
 " acuteness of a child, called up into older 
 " cheeks, a blush of accusing consciousness ? 
 " How often might the prompt, candid, honor- 
 " able decision of an infant, in some question 
 " of right and wrong, shame the hesitating, cal- 
 "culating evasiveness of mature reason.'' 
 
 " So that the philosophical beholder 
 
 " Sigh'd for their sakes that they should e'er grow older. 
 
 The first of my literary acquaintances of any 
 respectability, was John Lushington Reilly, 
 Esquire, of Scarvagh, to whose family I was 
 warmly recommended, by a lady who intro- 
 duced me as a lover and composer of poetry. 
 In this gentleman's house I was employed for 
 some time, and during my residence there, I was 
 not treated as a common workman, but was 
 highly entertained by Mr. and Mrs. Reilly, 
 who had the goodness to read to me by turns, 
 whilst I was at work ; and in their absence, a
 
 JAMES WILSON. 79 
 
 person was appointed to supply their place. 
 Here there was a fine library, where I first met 
 with Spencer's Fairy Queen. When I left home, 
 I did not expect to remain at Scarvagh longer 
 than three or four weeks at farthest, but such 
 was the partiality of that worthy family for 
 me, that I was detained there for nearly three 
 months. On taking leave of my benefactors, 
 Mr. Reilly observed, that I ought not to be 
 tired of them, as they were not tired of me. 
 To Mr. Reilly I addressed a few verses on his 
 return from the army, which appeared in the 
 second edition of my Poems. I had listened 
 with much pleasure to the Treatise on Solitude, 
 by that inimitable philosopher, Zimmerman ; 
 but, although I had learned from books to ima- 
 gine the pleasures of solitude, yet I never had 
 an opportunity of experiencing its enjoyments, 
 until my residence, at that time in the country. 
 Some of our busy town's-people shudder at the 
 idea of a country life, and conclude that the 
 want of variety would render them miserable 
 in retirement ; but the happiness of such is de- 
 rived from bustle and confusion from sources 
 unstable as the wind, and nature is to them 
 destitute of charms. It was not so with me ; 
 the murmuring of the streams, the rustling of 
 H2
 
 80 THE LIFE OF 
 
 the leaves, the singing of the birds, the lowing 
 of the cattle, and bleating of the lambs, each 
 had for me its charms, and excited in my mind 
 the most pleasing sensations. As nature is su- 
 perior to art in all her operations, so are the 
 pleasures derived from the one far superior to 
 the pleasures derived from the other, and every 
 man of experience will acknowledge, that inde- 
 dependently of religion, there is not any thing 
 which affords such delight to the contempla- 
 tive mind, as the works of creation. 
 
 " By boundless love, and perfect wisdom formed, 
 " And ever rising with the rising mind." 
 
 From Scarvagh, I went to Drambanagher, 
 the seat of John Moore, Esq. where I was em- 
 ployed for some time. Mr. and Mrs. Moore 
 were particularly attentive to me, and shewed 
 me much kindness ; and after spending some 
 time in a few other gentlemen's houses, I re- 
 turned home. 
 
 In 1812 I became acquainted with the late 
 ingenious Miss Balfeur. This lady was die au- 
 thor of several interesting works, in both prose 
 and verse. I was introduced to her by John
 
 JAMES WILSON. 8] 
 
 Templeton, Esq. of Malone, a gentleman whose 
 literary and scientific acquirements are too well 
 known to require any eulogium from such an 
 humble individual as 1 am. Miss Balfeur felt 
 much for my situation, and endeavoured, by 
 every means in her power, to promote my in- 
 terest. She offered to teach me grammar and 
 in order to encourage me, she said it would 
 only require three weeks or a month at most ; 
 and as soon as I had attained a knowledge of 
 the English language, she proposed to teach me 
 French; but owing to the narrowness of my 
 circumstances, I could not afford to devote to 
 those studies the time which they would have 
 required. I had a large family depending on 
 me for support, for which I had no means of 
 procuring bread, but by my own industry ; and 
 my poor wife having been long afflicted with 
 bad health, was unable to render me any as- 
 sistance : and to add to this, was often employed 
 in the country. Had I then turned my atten- 
 tion to these studies, my children might have 
 starved; and I was, therefore, obliged to decline 
 this friendly offer, of which I was desirous to 
 avail myself, as it might have been of much 
 future advantage to me. This was one of the 
 greatest sacrifices I ever made. It is true I 
 H 3
 
 82 THE LIFE OF 
 
 had a few friends who, had they been acquaint- 
 ed with these circumstances, would have been 
 sorry to let me lose such an opportunity but I 
 was too sensible of their kindness and was 
 therefore unwilling to make any further claims 
 upon their bounty. 
 
 " From what blest spring did he derive his art 
 " To soothe our cares, and thus command the heart ? 
 " How did the seeds lie quickening in his brain ? 
 " How were they born without a parent's pain ! 
 " He did hut think and music did arise, 
 " Dilating joy, as light o'erspread the skies; 
 " From an immortal source, like that it came ; 
 " But light we know this wonder wants a name ! 
 " What art thouT from what cause dost thou spring, 
 " O music ! thou divine, mysterious thing ! " 
 
 While I was travelling in the county West- 
 meath, I stopped for some time at the house of 
 a friend, in the neighbourhood of Nobber. I 
 went to visit the spot rendered famous by being 
 the birth-place of Carolan, one of the most ex- 
 traordinary geniuses that any age or country 
 has yet produced. He was one of the last and 
 most celebrated of the Irish Bards, whose com- 
 positions have been as much admired for their
 
 JAMES WILSON. S3 
 
 extraordinary variety, as for their exquisite me- 
 lody he is said to have composed upwards of 
 four hundred pieces. This account, however, 
 is perhaps exaggerated ; but be this as it may, 
 our national music has been greatly enriched 
 by his productions. But it was not only in the 
 composition of music that he distinguished him- 
 self his poetry is also fine, for he wrote ac- 
 cording to nature. Speaking of his loss of 
 sight, he says 
 
 " Even he, whose hapless eyes no ray 
 " Admit from beauty's cheering day ; 
 " Yet, though he cannot see the light, 
 " He feels it warm, and knows its bright." 
 
 And, to use the language of the poet, " his 
 compositions are like dreams of joy, that are 
 past, pleasant, and mournful to the soul." I 
 am sorry to say, that we know but little of the 
 history of this extraordiany genius. It appears 
 that he spent his life as an itinerant musician, 
 and was made welcome at the houses of the 
 great ; and there, with the tales of other days, 
 enlivened the convivial hours. It reflects no 
 great credit on the times in which Carolan 
 lived, that he was suffered to live in poverty, 
 and die in obscurity ; but it has been too fre-
 
 84 THE LIFE OF 
 
 quently the lot of great geniuses to meet with 
 neglect while living, and when dead to be la- 
 mented, and admired, as if mankind knew not 
 their value until they were gone, and posterity 
 were willing to compensate for the injuries they 
 had experienced through life, by erecting to 
 their memories splendid monuments. A trifle 
 bestowed on them, while living and starving in 
 an empty garret, would have rendered them 
 more essential service, than all the sums la- 
 vished on the decorations of Westminster Ab- 
 bey, to which they are insensible. 
 
 " One night I dream 'd I lay most easy, 
 " Down by a murmuring river side 
 
 " The lovely banks were spread with daisies, 
 " And the streams did gently glide." 
 
 OLD BALLAD. 
 
 I remember once conversing with a friend, 
 on the nature of dreams. He asked me, if the 
 blind ever did dream. I answered, " that the 
 blind was as susceptible of dreams as those 
 who were blessed with sight." " But," said he, 
 " we dream of objects familiar to the vision ; 
 and, as the blind are strangers to those objects, 
 I was at a loss to know of what their dreams 
 consisted." I told him, I would endeavour to
 
 JAMES WILSON. 85 
 
 explain : The blind may be divided into two 
 classes. The first are those who never remem- 
 ber to have seen the light. When they sleep, 
 they never dream of visible objects. Their 
 dreams are always made up of conversations, 
 or feeling the objects about them, or groping 
 their way to some particular place. The second 
 class are those who remember to have seen the 
 light. Tliey frequently dream of scenes once 
 familiar to them ; and in their sleeping hours, 
 their imagination returns to those beloved ob- 
 jects with unmixed pleasure and delight. I, 
 myself, often dream of that happy period, when 
 I enjoyed the blessing of sight; and though the 
 season was of short duration, yet, what I then 
 saw of the beauties of nature, has been engra- 
 ven on my memory in lasting characters. In 
 sleep I frequently return to the scenes of my 
 childhood. Then is presented to my imagina- 
 tion all those rural objects in their pristine 
 freshness and beauty ; the daisy-enameled field, 
 the primrose banks, and the hawthorn in full 
 blossom ; and that sweet little stream, in whose 
 limpid waters I have so often paddled, with the 
 companions of my infant days. A few weeks 
 ago, I had a dream : when I thought I was in 
 the neighbourhood where I was brought up.
 
 86 THE LIFE OF 
 
 The sun beamed forth in unclouded splendour. 
 Methought I saw the wind gently shake the 
 trees, and turn up the white side of the leaf, on 
 the road before me. I fancied that I saw peo- 
 ple abroad, taking the air, and their clothes 
 fluttering in the breeze. On the opposite side 
 of the river, was a beautiful range of green 
 sloping hills, variegated with corn-fields, groves 
 and white-washed houses. I forgot in my sleep 
 that I was old and bund. I ran, leaped, and 
 shouted with joy ; when, to my great disap- 
 pointment, I awoke, and all this fair scene was 
 lost, and in the words of the poet, " Left the 
 world to darkness and to me." 
 
 " Now free from care, and tumult's torturing din, 
 
 " Young fancy led me from my humble cot; 
 
 " Aud far through space, where suns unnumbered burn, 
 
 " I with her took a grand excursive flight, 
 
 " Then back again to Erin's hills of green, 
 
 " I with her wandered ; nor did night, nor gloom, 
 
 " One step intrude to shade the prospects round. 
 
 " I saw sweet Scarvagh, in her loveliest garb, 
 
 " And all her trees in summer's dress were clad ; 
 
 " Her honour'd mansion, seat of peace and love, 
 
 " Gave rapture to my breast, for there I've found 
 
 " True hospitality, which once did grace 
 
 " The halls of Erin's chiefs of old; 
 
 " But soon, alas ! the hum of nightly bands, 
 
 " And vagrants, strolling on in quest of sin, 
 
 " Bore fancy from me with her golden train, 
 
 " And once more left me in the folds of nighf"
 
 JAMES WILSON. 87 
 
 The sense of sight is not the only one of 
 which I am deprived, for I never remember to 
 have enjoyed that of smell. In my opinion, 
 this sense can be more easily dispensed with, 
 than any of the other four. I remember a lady 
 of my acquaintance, who possessed this sense 
 so exquisitly, that the least disagreeable odour 
 was so offensive, as to produce a severe head- 
 ache ; when she understood that I was destitute 
 of what she possessed in so extraordinary a de- 
 gree, she observed, very justly, " it is well for 
 you ; for if you have no pleasure from that 
 source, you have no pain." When spring un- 
 folds itself in all its genial influences, it is, no 
 doubt, pleasant to range through the country, 
 and inhale the fragrance arising from the shrubs 
 and flowers ; but on coming into a large town 
 or populous city, the circumstances are entirely 
 changed, and the effluvia arising from the nar- 
 row lanes and alleys become exceedingly dis- 
 agreeable. 
 
 The improvement of my mind, by the acqui- 
 sition of useful and substantial knowledge, now 
 engrossed my attention. To attain this, I knew 
 that books and conversation were the only 
 means, and, therefore, I carefully cultivated the
 
 88 THE LIFE OF 
 
 friendship of such persons as were distinguished 
 by their taste and intelligence. I was very for- 
 tunate in getting acquainted with a number of 
 individuals, whose literary acquirements and 
 love of virtue, reflected honour on their names. 
 In the society of such persons, I could not fail 
 in acquiring much mental improvement, and 
 their conversation, remarks, and advice were of 
 great use to me. 
 
 It has been remarked by an elegant writer, 
 that geography is the eye of history the latter 
 recording the time, and the former the place, 
 in which any remarkable event has happened. 
 To be acquainted with the names, situations, 
 and boundries of places, together with the 
 tranactions of other years, forms now an essen- 
 tial part of a good education. To the blind, 
 in this respect, a large field is laid open, and if 
 a good memory accompanies conversation, and 
 to hearing history and geography read, they 
 may lay up a store that will not fail, as a source 
 of amusement, both to themselves and others. 
 In these two branches of knowledge I was very, 
 assiduous, and find, that to the present day, my 
 memory is exceedingly tenacious of what I then 
 learned. In relation to geography, I became
 
 JAMES WILSON. 89 
 
 acquainted with every place of note in the 
 habitable globe, so that, on being examined 
 by some who were either curious, or doubtful 
 of my knowledge, my descriptions have been 
 found to coincide with the best constructed 
 maps. 
 
 Wisdom is the great end of history: it is 
 designed to supply the want of experience ; 
 though it enforce not its instruction with the 
 same authority, yet it furnishes us with a great- 
 er variety of information than it is possible for 
 experience to afford, in the course of the long- 
 est life. Its object is to enlarge our views of 
 the human character, and to give full exercise 
 to our judgment on the affairs of men. 
 
 Let us hear what PLUTARCH says upon the 
 subject: "I live," says he, "entirely upon 
 history; and while I contemplate the picture 
 that it presents to my view, my mind enjoys a 
 rich repast from the representation of great 
 and virtuous characters. If the actions of men 
 produce some instances of vice, corruption, 
 and dishonesty, I endeavour, nevertheless, to 
 remove the impression, or defeat its effect. My 
 mind withdraws itself from the scene, and free 
 I
 
 90 THE LIFE OF 
 
 from every ignoble passion, I attach myself to 
 these high examples of virtue, which are so 
 agreeable and satisfactory, and which accord 
 so completely with the genuine feeings of our 
 nature." 
 
 CICERO has also justly observed, that history 
 is the light of ages, the depository of events, 
 the faithful evidence of truth, the source of 
 prudence and good counsels, and the rule of 
 conduct and manners. 
 
 Respecting history, the reader will best judge 
 of the power of my memory by the following 
 relation. To a few select friends who wished 
 to prove my knowledge of English history, 
 I repeated, to their entire satisfaction, an 
 epitome of the history of England, from the 
 Norman conquest till the peace in 1783, in- 
 cluding invasions, conspiracies, insurrections, 
 and revolutions ; the names of all the Kings 
 and Queens, the year of their accession, the 
 length of their reigns, and the affinity each had 
 to his predecessor, together with the names and 
 characters of all the great statesmen, heroes, 
 philosophers, and poets, who flourished in the 
 different reigns. In consequence of this, and
 
 JAMES WILSON. 91 
 
 different rehearsals, I was termed, " The Living 
 Book," and " A Walking Encyclopaedia ; " to 
 others, my knowledge, in such circumstances, 
 appeared as a prodigy, but to myself it proved 
 a source of consolation, and beguiled many a 
 tedious hour. 
 
 ' Tho' darkness still attends me, 
 
 It aids internal sight ; 
 And from such scenes defends me, 
 As blush to see the light. 
 
 No weeping objects grieve me ; 
 
 No glitt'ring fop offends ; 
 No fawning smiles deceive me ; 
 
 Kind darkness me befriends. 
 
 ' Then cease your useless wailings, 
 
 I know no reason why 
 Mankind, to their own failings, 
 Are all as blind as I." 
 
 The circle of my acquaintance was at this 
 time greatly enlarged, and I had the honour of 
 ranking among my friends some of the most dis- 
 tinguished characters of this country. Among 
 these was Dr. Percy, Bishop of Dromore. This 
 great man was the last of that illustrious school 
 of which Johnson, Goldsmith, and Burke, were 
 members. His fine taste and literary talents 
 12
 
 92 THE LIFE OF 
 
 were accompanied by sweetness of temper and 
 a benevolent disposition. From the Rev. H. 
 Boyd, (a gentleman well known in the literary 
 world as the translator of the Italian Poet, 
 Dante, and author of some other original works 
 of great merit) I received the most marked at- 
 tention. His kindness, and that of his family, 
 indeed, I cannot easily forget ; on several oc- 
 occasions he has rendered me very essential 
 services, and it yields me no small degree of 
 pleasure to reflect, that I still enjoy the friend- 
 ship of a man as eminently distinguished for 
 his virtues as for his talents. 
 
 There are few blind persons who are not 
 blessed with strongly retentive memories, and 
 added to this, their ear is open to all the 
 variety of sweet sounds ; but the sense of sight 
 gives to the mind a more ample range, lays 
 open the book of universal knowledge, which, 
 to the blind, is covered over with an impene- 
 trable veil. The art of printing, which has dif- 
 fused knowledge to an extent unknown even 
 to the brightest ages of antiquity, sheds not 
 its enlivening rays for their instruction and 
 amusement. Ever dependent on the genero- 
 sity of others, the streams of knowledge flow to
 
 JAMES WILSON. 93 
 
 them through narrow and irregular channels ; 
 but Providence, in all things just, deprived 
 them of one perceptive power, seems to have 
 bestowed an additional vigour on those which 
 remain. I have often experienced much diffi- 
 culty in procuring readers, for it would have 
 been unreasonable to expect persons to forego 
 their pleasures, or quit their business, in order 
 to gratify me ; yet some have done both, for 
 my amusement. Men, however, vary in their 
 tastes with respect to books, as they do with 
 regard to food ; some readers can find no 
 charms in poetry, others can find no interest 
 in biography, and some have a particular aver- 
 sion to books of a philosophical nature and I 
 was, therefore, necessitated to adopt the sub- 
 ject which best agreed with the taste of my 
 readers. From these circumstances, I was ge- 
 nerally obliged to listen to two or three different 
 kinds of books in a day : for instance, history 
 before breakfast ; natural philosophy during the 
 day; poetry in the evening; and, by way of 
 dessert, a few passages from some of our senti- 
 mental writers. 
 
 i 3
 
 94 THE LIFE OF 
 
 THE DEAF AND DUMB. 
 
 Dr. Gilly, in his Essay, entitled a " Parallel 
 on the Blind and Dumb," speaking of these 
 unhappy mutes, he says 
 
 " People are constantly asking us, which are 
 the most unhappy the Deaf and Dumb, or the 
 Blind ? To what is the gaiety of the one, and 
 the profound melancholy of the other, owing ? 
 we shall resolve this question to the advantage 
 of the bund : because we really think them less 
 unhappy strangers to all that passes around 
 them. The deaf and dumb, who see every- 
 thing, enjoy nothing ; like Tantalus, whom 
 fiction represents as devoured by an inextin- 
 guishable thirst, in the midst of water they 
 are continually subjected to cruel privations; 
 an insurmountable barrier separates them from 
 the rest of mankind. They are solitary in the 
 midst of us, unless we borrow that artificial 
 language which the talent and charity of their 
 ingenious teacher has created for them; and 
 the habit which they have of reading the coun- 
 tenances, is even very often a subject of anxiety 
 to them they do not always guess right; doubt
 
 JAMES WILSON. 95 
 
 and uncertainty increase their impatient suspi- 
 cions ; a serious cast, like melancholy, then 
 invades their countenance, and proves that with 
 us they are in a real state of privation, obliged 
 to concentrate their thoughts in themselves; 
 the activity of their imagination is thus greatly 
 increased, and as attention and judgment ne- 
 cessarily follow the preception of ideas, they 
 fatigue themselves prodigiously. Few deaf and 
 dumb persons, therefore, are to be found in the 
 list of longevity, because the frictions are too 
 lively, and to use a common but exact expres- 
 sion, " the sword wears the scabbard." 
 
 It appears that, as the attention of the blind 
 is not diverted by objects presented to the sight, 
 they are peculiarly fitted to attain perfection in 
 whatever is conveyed to the mind by oral in- 
 struction. Some of the best poets and musi- 
 cians that have ever appeared in the world, 
 were men from whom the fair face of nature 
 was shut out, who never saw the refulgent sun 
 dart his rays through the opening clouds, ting- 
 ing with rosy light the hills and plains, and 
 gladdening all animated nature. How many 
 thousand objects which give pleasure to the be- 
 holder present themselves on every side, but
 
 96 THE LIFE OF 
 
 the rich variety of colours which decorates the 
 ample field of nature, is displayed in vain be- 
 fore the blind, and to them this fair scene is 
 shrouded in universal night. 
 
 Never had the blind so powerful an apolo- 
 gist, so eloquent an eulogist, as in that prime 
 ornament of their afflicted family, MILTON ; 
 who, in that noble descant on his loss of sight, 
 which occurs in his " Second Defence of the 
 People of England," speaks to this effect, in 
 words of the purest and strongest Latin : 
 
 " And surely we blind are not the last care 
 " of God. Woe, woe, to him who mocks to 
 " him who harms us ! Us, whom the Divine 
 " law, the Divine power, has not only shielded 
 " from injury, but has rendered almost sacred ! 
 " He seems, indeed, to have brought this dark- 
 " ness upon us, not so much by the bedimming 
 " of our eyes, as by the overshadowing of His 
 " heavenly wings ; a darkness which He not 
 " seldom illumines with interior and far more 
 " gracious light. So may I be consummated 
 " by this infirmity ! So may I be thus irradi- 
 " ated by obscurity. "
 
 JAMES WILSON. 97 
 
 The state of my affairs at this time wore ra- 
 ther an unfavourable appearance. The profits 
 arising from my publications were very small ; 
 they did little more than satisfy the demands of 
 the printer and paper manufacturer. I wished, 
 above all things, to select a subject on which I 
 could employ my mind more extensively than it 
 had hitherto been engaged, and having devoted 
 much of my time to the study of biography, I 
 found, on acquaintance with this useful branch 
 of history, that there were many in all ages, 
 and in every country, who had laboured under 
 the same calamity with myself, and who had 
 eminently distinguished themselves by their at- 
 tainments in literature and science. I thought, 
 if these were collected together, and moulded 
 into a new form, it might not only become an 
 amusing, but, a useful work, so far as it would 
 show what perseverance and industry could do, 
 in enabling us to overcome difficulties appar- 
 ently insurmountable. It concerned not me at 
 what time of life, or by what cause they lost 
 their sight, provided that they distinguished 
 themselves after they became blind. My chief 
 object was to prove the energy of the human 
 mind, under one of the greatest privations to 
 which we are liable in this life. In contem
 
 98 THE LIFE OF 
 
 plating the lives and characters of these illus- 
 trious individuals, who had devoted their time 
 and applied their talents to promote the happi- 
 ness of their fellow-creatures, we shall find, that 
 they have been, considering their number, as 
 usefully employed as any class of men, with 
 whose works we are acquainted. Poets, the 
 foremost in renown, have been incapable of the 
 perception of external objects. The two finest 
 poems in the world, the " Ili ad" and "Paradise 
 Lost," are the immortal productions of the 
 blind. The eyes of Homer .and Milton rolled 
 in vain, and found no dawn ; yet in the forcible 
 expression of the latter, were their minds "inly 
 irradiated, " and they have sung of things in- 
 visible to mortal sight. 
 
 These two great epic poets, like Saturn and 
 Jupiter, in the planetary system, shine bright 
 stars of excellence, round which, inferior orbs 
 for ever move in dull succession. Homer and 
 Milton have long held the first rank among 
 poets. The vigour of their minds ; the brilli- 
 ancy of their imaginations ; the flights of their 
 genius, like those of inspiration, extended to 
 the very boundaries of time and space.
 
 JAMES WILSON. 99 
 
 " Is not each great, each amiable muse, 
 
 " Of classic ages in thy Milton met T 
 
 " A genius, universal as his theme ; 
 
 " Astonishing 'as chaos, as the bloom 
 
 '' Of blowing Eden fair, as Heaven sublime." 
 
 THOMPSON. 
 
 It has not been only in the different depart- 
 ments of literature that they have distinguished 
 themselves, but also in the more extensive fields 
 of science and of the arts, they have reaped 
 honours which will transmit their names to the 
 remotest posterity. 
 
 It was partly with a view of rescuing my fel- 
 low-sufferers from the neglect and obscurity in 
 which many of them were enveloped, that I 
 undertook the present work an undertaking 
 attended with immense labour and much re- 
 search, to one like me, which will readily be 
 allowed, when it is considered I had often to 
 depend on the good nature of strangers for such 
 books as were necessary for my purpose, and ev- 
 en for readers and amanuenses. However, after 
 wading through innumerable difficulties, which 
 nature and fortune threw in my way, the work 
 made its appearance in 1820, in one volume, 
 12mo., containing nearly 400 pages, closely
 
 100 THE LIFE OF 
 
 printed. The reception it met with from the 
 public was gratifying to my feelings, and far 
 surpassed anything I could have expected. 
 
 A history of the blind, by a blind man, ex- 
 cited a good deal of curiosity among the read- 
 ing portion of the public, and called forth the 
 sympathy of several benevolent individuals in 
 favour of its afflicted author. 
 
 When I was in Edinburgh, Mr. C., the cele- 
 brated phrenologist, asked me for a cast of my 
 head, to which I consented; but, at the same 
 time, I told him I did not pretend to know any- 
 thing of the science. The following remarks 
 on this subject appeared in the Phrenological 
 Journal : 
 
 "His temperament is bilious- nervous; his 
 head is large ; and the organs of individuality, 
 size, weight, and locality, are very much deve- 
 loped. The constant and very vivid exercise 
 of these organs seems to have caused them to 
 attain a larger size than probably they would 
 otherwise have reached ; while the organs of 
 colouring are very obviously stinted in their
 
 JAMES WILSON. 101 
 
 dimensions, from want of exercise. His eyes 
 have suffered so much from disease, that it is 
 difficult to judge accurately by their appearance 
 of the size of the organ of language : but it ap- 
 pears to us to hare been well developed. The 
 extraordinary cultivation of it, joined to his 
 favourable temperament, which gives at once 
 strength and sensibility, and the aid afforded 
 by his large individuality, account for his ex- 
 traordinary powers of memory. He is modest 
 and intelligent in conversation, and altogether 
 is a very interesting person." 
 
 Phrenological Journal, June, J836. 
 
 Page 92. 
 
 Mr. B., a gentleman in Gloucestershire, who 
 has devoted much of his time to the study of 
 phrenology, also took a cast from my head. In 
 a letter to a friend, he says : 
 
 "Prestbury, November 22, 1841. 
 
 " Dear Sir, 
 
 " I take leave to introduce to your 
 " notice, a case of considerable interest in the 
 " person of Mr. Wilson, the blind traveller."
 
 102 THE LIFE OF 
 
 " He is one of those examples of the power 
 " of organization to overcome the immense dif- 
 " ficulties presented by his privation. The effect 
 " of exercise, and the want of it, are finely illus- 
 " trated. All the perceptions (save only colour) 
 " being in a high state of activity in his brain." 
 
 ' Mr. Wilson will be found a highly intelli- 
 " gent, yet a perfectly unassuming person. A 
 "little work which he has written, and from the 
 " sale of which he principally derives support, 
 " will be found replete with interesting matter, 
 " and to be highly creditable to his moral, as well 
 "as to his intellectual character." 
 
 " Trusting that I have not presumed too far 
 "on your kindness, 3 ' 
 
 " Remain, yours, very faithfully, 
 
 "R. B." 
 
 The following rhyming letter was written by 
 one of the Society of Friends, in favour of 
 James Wilson, the author of the History of 
 the Blind;
 
 JAMES WILSON. 103 
 
 Pray read this, and look, 
 
 For the bearer will brook 
 To be gaz'd on, because he can't see : 
 
 He's blind of both eyes, 
 
 Yet, what may surprise, 
 Much further than many can see. 
 
 And now he is bound, 
 
 On a very long round. 
 To get names, written down upon paper, 
 
 And a book he will print, 
 
 With biography in't 
 Not of Grafton, or Junius, or Draper; 
 
 But of men who were wise, 
 Like himself, without eyes ; 
 
 Yet could many things do without sight, 
 
 Quite as well as the few 
 .-Who of eyes have full two, 
 
 Yet need a wax candle at night. 
 
 Then help him, I pray : 
 
 And by night and by day 
 He'll be sure to consider thy kindness, 
 
 And grateful he'll be 
 
 Or, if not, tell it me, 
 And I'll wish him made well of his blindness. 
 
 He's a good honest man 
 
 And, whenever he can, 
 He loves to hear reading from books ; 
 
 And though he can't see, 
 
 Yet I truly tell thee, 
 That intelligence beams in his looks.
 
 104 THE LIFE OP 
 
 Old Johnson he know?, 
 
 And the ten gouty toes 
 Of the tosser of pots, Sheridan ', 
 
 He of Shakspeare can tell, 
 
 And knows Milton as well 
 As he does every other great man. 
 
 Sir Walter the Scott, 
 
 It is James Wilson's lot 
 To know just as well as another ; 
 
 And the long William Pitt, 
 
 Who in Commons did sit, 
 He loved just as well as his brother. 
 
 If more thou would'st know, 
 
 Then ask him to go 
 And stay for some evening to talk ; 
 
 But let not thy wine, 
 
 Though excellently fine, 
 Make his legs quite too blind for a walk. 
 
 Two more, and I've done 
 
 For the thread 1 have spun, 
 
 Of my rhyming, this whimsical night'; 
 
 Give him help on his way, 
 
 And be glad of the day 
 He presented himself to thy sight. 
 
 And remember, 'twas 1 
 
 (My name by and by) 
 Who sent this good man for a squeeze 
 
 Of thy true English hand ; 
 
 So no more but command 
 Thy olden friend, Joseph Humphreys. 
 
 Claremont, 20. 3rd Month, 1824.
 
 JAMES WILSON. 105 
 
 Verses in imitation of " John Anderson, my 
 Joe," addressed to James Wilson, by one of 
 the Society of Friends : 
 
 Jamie Wilson ! Jamie Wilson, when first I saw thine eyes, 
 I deem'd not thou could'st write a book, 
 
 I knew not thou wert wise ; 
 
 But soon I found that thou could'st ken 
 
 More than a many see, 
 
 For who could write about the blind, 
 James Wilson, well as thee. 
 
 Thou see'st the rain -bow in the sky, 
 
 The rain-bow of thy mind, 
 Thou see'st the sun at noon-day bright, 
 
 Altho' thou art so blind ; 
 Thou see'st the lark ascend the sky, 
 
 As well as hears his strain, 
 James Wilson will I deem, thy blindness gives no pain. 
 
 Jamie Wilson ! Jamie Wilson, there was a time when thou 
 
 Knew not what care nor trouble is, 
 When sun-shine lit thy brow ; 
 
 But thy hair is frosted over, 
 And brooding care has made 
 
 The sun-shine of thy early days, 
 A dim and misty shade. 
 
 Jamie Wilson ! Jamie Wilson, 1 bid thee farewell now, 
 
 May smoother paths lie in thy way, 
 May peace sit on thy brow ; 
 
 But may'st thou in thy wanderings, 
 Nay, wheresoe'er thou roam, 
 
 Remember that thou hast a friend 
 A friend in many a home.
 
 106 THE LIFE OF 
 
 The following Testimonial is from a medical 
 gentleman of high standing : 
 
 " I beg most respectfully to state that I 
 have known the highly-gifted James Wilson, for 
 some time, and that every statement in his life, 
 from all my enquiries, is completely borne out, 
 and not over-drawn; and when I consider that he 
 has been blind from three years of age, I am much 
 astonished at his powes as an Historian, Geogra- 
 pher, and a Poet ; but, what is of far more impor- 
 tance, his unaffected piety, reverential love and 
 attachment to our pure, Apostolic, Anglican 
 Church ; and it is with much confidence I make 
 this statement, and that I have seen a letter to 
 him from our highly-gifted Poet, Southey, doing 
 much honour to his heart and feelings. 
 
 "ROBERT BRIEN, 
 
 "Surgeon, R.N. & M.R.C.S." 
 " London, 
 " June 14th, 1841." 
 
 It is pleasing, to a pious mind, to contemplate 
 the footsteps of an all-directing Providence, 
 to trace the progress of the human mind in 
 various relations, and become acquainted with 
 the actions of individuals, who have laboured 
 under great difficulties.
 
 JAMES WILSON. 107 
 
 The present Memoir is offered to the reader 
 as a simple, unvarnished tale, and is calculated 
 to awaken those sentiments of sympathy, which 
 are common both to the peasant and philo- 
 sopher. 
 
 To have reflected on the goodness of Divine 
 Providence, from the first hour of my exist- 
 ence, through a period of nearly seventy years ; 
 on the numberless preservations from danger, 
 which, through that course of time, had threa- 
 tened my life or my happiness; and on the 
 many positive blessings with which I had so 
 long been favoured ; could not, I believe, have 
 failed to excite a lively and extraordinary sense 
 of the unmerited goodness of God to me, and 
 would probably have proved a peculiarly ani- 
 mating source of humble and grateful recollec- 
 tion. 
 
 " My God, my Father, while T stray 
 
 " Far from my home, on life's rough way, 
 
 " O teach me from my heart to say, 
 
 " Thy will he done. 
 
 " Though dark my way, and sad my lot, 
 
 " Let me be still, and murmur not, 
 
 " And breathe that prayer divinely taught 
 
 " Thy will be done."
 
 108 THE LIFE OF JAMES WILSON. 
 
 Persuaded, from the kind encouragement 1 
 have experienced, that this narrative will fall 
 into the hands of many of my distinguished and 
 disinterested friends, I should consider myself 
 ungrateful, were I not to declare, that no length 
 of time, no change of circumstances, will ever 
 be able to efface from my memory, the pleasing 
 recollections of unmerited kindness so long ex- 
 perienced ; recollections which are stamped in 
 indelible characters upon my heart. 
 
 JAMES WILSON. 
 
 J. VI. SHOWELL, PRINTER, BIRMINGHAM.
 
 A 000 004 406