acute than those of any around them; and with regard to some mental operations, their advantages are obvious, and their powers of memory, reflection, and abstraction of mind, unquestionably superior to those of other individuals. It is also remarkable that they generally exhibit a more than ordinary share of cheerfulness. Traces of ancient opinions upon this appear in the tales, false or true, told of Democritus, who is represented as being proverbially the laughing philosopher;' and as having inflicted a voluntary blindness on himself that he might think the more intensely.

But most of these advantages we may be told are the acquisitions of habit urged by necessitybut still they are important alleviations of the lot of the blind; they make the fact highly probable, that in the sum of their enjoyments, as well as of their perceptions, they are more nearly equal to their fellow creatures than superficial minds imagine, and demonstrate the goodness of that Source of all bliss, who is alike to all-invisible. It is almost demonstrable that our great Milton had, notwithstanding his bitter complaints on this account, been less absorbed in

thoughts that voluntary move
Harmonious numbers, as the wakeful bird
Sings darkling, and in shadiest covert hid,
Tunes her nocturnal note;

and more of the political partisan, had he been more fortunate in this respect. We need not here transcribe those complaints for the tenthousandth time, nor more than allude to the parallel situation of perhaps the greatest poet of antiquity.

Τον πέρι Μουσ' ἐφίλησε, δίδε δ' αγαθόν τε, κακόν τε, Οφθαλμῶν μὲν ἄμερσε, διδε δ ̓ ἡδειαν ἀοιδην. Odyss. 1. v. 63, 64.

Dear to the muse, who gave his days to flow With mighty blessings mixed with mighty woe; In clouds and darkness quenched his visual ray, Yet gave him power to raise the lofty lay. Pope. In poetry, therefore, however dependent it may seem on the impression of visible objects upon the mind, the blind may ever rank among their fellow sufferers two of the mightiest names. In the highest branches of the mathematics too they have excelled. St. Jerome mentions a Didymus of Alexandria, who 'through blind from his infancy, and therefore ignorant of letters, appeared so great a miracle to the world, as not only to learn logic, but geometry also to perfection-which seems,' adds this father, the most of any thing to require the help of sight.' Cicero also states that his preceptor in philosophy, Diodorus, 'professed geometry after he became blind, and described his diagrams accurately to his scholars.' Parallel modern instances of proficiency in these sciences are found in professor Saunderson and Mr. Grenville.

The former seems to have acquired most of nis ideas by the sense of feeling, having been deprived of sight at the age of twelve months. This sense became with him most exquisite: for though he abandoned all attempts at distinguishing colors, in a set of Roman medals he could distinguish the genuine from the false, it is said, though they had been counterfeited in such a

manner, as to deceive a connoisseur, who judged of them only by the eye. His sense of feeling was so acute, that he could perceive the least variation in the state of the air; and in a garden where observations were made on the sun, he took notice of every cloud that interrupted the observation, almost as justly as those who could see. He could tell when any thing was held near his face, or when he passed by a tree at no great distance, provided the air was calm, and there was little or no wind, by the different pulses of air upon his face. He also possessed a sensibility of hearing to such a degree, that he could distinguish even the fifth part of a note; and by the quickness of this sense not only discriminated persons with whom he had once conversed so long as to fix in his memory the sound of their voice, but he could judge of the size of a room into which he was introduced, and of his distance from the wall; and if he had ever walked over a pavement in courts, piazzas, &c. which reflected a sound, and was afterwards conducted thither again, he could exactly tell in what part of the walk he was placed, merely by the different notes that reached his ear. Dr. Saunderson, it is well known, was Lucasian professor of mathematics at Cambridge, and invented a palpable arithmetic, minutely described in Diderot's Letters on the Blind. It consisted of a square board of a convenient size, divided by parallel lines into a considerable number of smaller squares. Each of these smaller squares, or separate departments, was pierced with nine holes, standing in three parallel rows; and by fixing a pin in one or other of these nine holes, the nine digits were denoted, according to the position of the pin. In order to facilitate his calculation, Saunderson made use of two sizes of pins, a larger and a smaller. The pins with large heads were always placed in the centre holes of the squares; and when they stood alone, without any small pins, they denoted the cypher. The number 1 was denoted by a pin with a small head, placed in the centre of a square; the number 2, by a large pin in the centre, and a small one at the side, in the hole which was first in order; the number 3, by a large pin in the centre, and a small one in the second hole at the side; and so on in order to the number 9. Thus any sum could be expressed in a number of squares, corresponding to the number of its figures. Dr. S. was accustomed to express also by this means his geometrical demonstrations, the pins serving to make angles either alone or with silk threads connecting them.

Mr. Grenville, who had lost his eye-sight, also contrived an arithmetical machine, consisting of a square board full of holes, and ten sets of pegs of different forms, corresponding to the nine digits and cypher. By far the most simple and commodious of these machines, however, seems to be that of Dr. Henry Moyes; of which he has himself inserted an account in the Ency. Brit. third edit. He informs us, that when he began to study the principles of arithmetic, he soon found that a person deprived of sight could scarcely proceed in that useful science, without the aid of palpable symbols representing the ten numerical characters; and being then unac

which their delight in that science might have induced us to expect. In Tansure's Musical Grammar it is recommended that the blind should be provided with a smooth board, with ledges of deal glued on it at proper distances, to represent the five lines of the musical staff; with such additional lines as occasion may require. In these ledges, as well as in the intervals between them, a number of holes are to be drilled for the reception of a variety of pegs, intended to indicate the various kinds of notes in music; such as semibreves, minims, crotchets; together with the rests, flats, sharps, bars, &c. In another contrivance for the same purpose, in some asylums of the blind, a stuffed cushion is substituted for the board of Tansure, upon which strings are sewed to represent the musical staff; and the pegs intended to denote the various musical characters are fixed upon sharp pointed wires, by which means they may be stuck into any required part of the cushion.

In 1786 an Essay on the Education of the Blind was printed at Paris, under the patronage of the Academy of Sciences. It is the production of M. Hauy, and does him great honor. Here we find a detail of a great variety of expedients by which the blind may be successfully instructed in the mechanic arts, as well as in music, arithmetic, geography, &c., and may even be taught to read, write, and print. In order to instruct the blind in music, at the institution of which M. Hauy communicates the details in this work, musical characters of every necessary form were cast in metal, and so many in number as to represent upon paper, by elevations on its surface, all the possible varieties that occur. In teaching geography, which was the department of M. Weissenbourg and Mad. Paradis, the circumference of countries was marked out by a tenacious and viscid matter, and the different parts of the maps were covered with a kind of sand, mixed with glass in various modes; the order of the towns being distinguished by grains of glass of a greater or less size; or, according to the plan of M. Hauy, the limits of the maps, for the use of the blind, were marked by a small rounded iron wire; and by some difference, either in the form or size of every part of a map, the pupils were assisted in distinguishing one part from another.

The manner in which the blind are taught to write and print is as follows: The pupil, by repeated experiments, having familiarised himself to the forms of the letters as drawn in relief, both in their direct and inverted position, gradually learns to impress them upon strong paper, a little moistened, with the point of a blunt iron pen or stylus, which marks without piercing the paper. By this means the letters become perceptible to the touch, on the one side sunk, and on the other in relievo; and thus the blind may be enabled to form and decipher, not only the characters required in common language, but also mathematical diagrams, geographical plans, and all the characters employed in arithmetic, music, &c. In printing, the blind compositor has a box for every letter, on the outside of which is marked, in relief, the peculiar character belonging to each. By this means he is

enabled readily to choose and arrange his types, and when they are set, he makes use of a strong paper, slightly moistened, like that employed in writing, in order to render it more easily susceptible of impressions. Having laid this upon his types, by the operation of the press, or the strokes of a small hammer, he raises an impression upon the paper, which, when dry, is sufficiently obvious to the touch to enable the blind to read by their fingers, and is so durable as to be by no means easily effaced. The types therefore are set, not in the reverse, but in the direct order, so that the characters may appear in relievo, in the same order, on the opposite side of the paper. Dr. Blacklock mentions that he was in possession of a copy of M. Hauy's Essay, which was printed in the manner now described, and also bound by the blind pupils of the Parisian institution, with great neatness. An English translation of the Essay is annexed to the edition of that gentleman's poems, printed at Edinburgh in 4to., in 1793.

Dr. Blacklock was himself amongst the most interesting of modern blind men. We have given (see BLACKLOCK) a sketch of his life already. Deploring the condition of the blind, he furnishes some original expressions, and one of the most powerful passages on this subject in the English language. To the blind, says he, the visible universe is annihilated; he is perfectly conscious of no space but that on which he stands, or to which his extremities can reach. Sound, indeed, gives him some ideas of distant objects; but those ideas are extremely obscure and indistinct. They are obscure, because they consist alone of the objects whose oscillations vibrate in his ear; and do not necessarily suppose any other bodies with which the intermediate space may be occupied, except that which gives the sound alone: they are indistinct, because sounds themselves are frequently ambiguous, and do not uniformly and exclusively indicate their real causes. And though by them the idea of distance in general, or even of some particular distances, may be obtained, yet they never fill the mind with those vast and exalting ideas of extension, which are inspired by ocular perception. For though a clap of thunder, or an explosion of ordnance, may be distinctly heard after they have traversed an immense region of space; yet, when the distance is uncommonly great, it ceases to be indicated by sound; and, therefore, the ideas acquired by auricular experiment, of extension and interval, are extremely confused and inadequate. The living and comprehensive eye darts its instantaneous view over expansive valleys, lofty mountains, protracted rivers, illimitable oceans. It measures, in an indivisible point of time, the mighty space from earth to heaven; or from one star to another. By the assistance of telescopes, its horizon is almost indefinitely extended, its objects prodigiously multiplied, and the sphere of its observation nobly enlarged. By these means, the imagination, inured to vast impressions of distance, can not only recal them in their greatest extent, with as much rapidity as they were at first imbibed, but can multiply them, and add one to another, till all particular boundaries and distances be lost in immensity.

Thus nature, by profusely irradiating the face of things, and clothing objects in a robe of diversified splendor, not only invites the understand ing to expatiate on a theatre so extensive, so diversified, and so attractive; but entertains and inflames the imagination with every possible exhibition of the sublime or beautiful. The man of light and colors beholds the objects of his attention and curiosity from afar. Taught by experience, he measures their relative distances; distinguishes their qualities, determines their situations, positions, and attitudes; presages what these tokens may import; selects his favorites; traverses in security the space which divides them from him; stops at the point where they are placed; and either obtains them with ease, or immediately perceives the means by which the obstacles that intercept his passage to them may be surmounted. The blind not only may be, but really are, during a considerable period, apprehensive of danger, in every motion towards any place from whence their contracted power of perception can give them no intelligence. All the various modes of delicate proportion; all the beautiful varieties of light and colors, whether exhibited in the works of nature or art; are to them irretrievably lost. Dependent for every thing but mere subsistence, on the good offices of others; obnoxious to injury from every point, which they are neither capacitated to perceive, nor qualified to resist they are, during the present state of being, rather to be considered as prisoners at large, than citizens of nature. The sedentary life, to which by privation of sight they are destined, relaxes their frame, and subjects them to all the disagreeable sensations which arise from dejection of spirits. Hence the most feeble exertions create lassitude and uneasiness. Hence the native tone of the nervous system, which alone is compatible with health and pleasure, destroyed by inactivity, exasperates and embitters every disagreeable impression. Natural evils, however, are always supportable; they not only arise from blind and undesigning causes, but are either mild in their attacks, or short in their duration; it is the miseries which are inflicted by conscious and reflecting agents alone, that can deserve the name of evils. These excoriate the soul with ineffable poignancy, as expressive of indifference or malignity in those by whom such bitter potions are cruelly administered. The negligence or wantonness, therefore, with which the blind are too frequently treated, is an enormity which God alone has justice to feel, or power to punish.'

Excellence in sculpture does not appear to us so remarkable in the blind. The artist of whom Aldrovandus speaks, became blind at twenty years of age, and yet ten years after made a perfect marble statue of Cosmo II. de Medicis: and another of clay, like Urban VIII. Bartholin also tells us of a blind sculptor in Denmark, who distinguished perfectly well, by mere touch, all kinds of wood, and even the colors of them; and De Piles (Cours de Peint. p. 329.) of another who thus took the likeness of the duke de Bracciano in a dark cellar, and made a marble statue of king Charles I. with great justness and ele

gance.

Musical attainments we seem also to expect as a matter of course with the blind; but to teach its theory to others would appear as difficult a task as any that they could undertake. Yet Sir John Hawkins assures us that the blind Sulinas' Treatise on the Scientific Principles of Harmony, is equal to any that is extant. As to practical musicians we need only mention the well-known instance of Mr. Stanley, the organist of St. Andrew's, Holborn, and at the Temple. He is said to have been one of the most pleasing and accurate of performers, as well as a very superior composer and instructor. So delicate was his ear that he could accompany with the thoroughbass any lesson which he heard for the first time, thus anticipating the harmony before the chords were sounded.

Authors of good credit mention a very surprising blind guide who used to conduct the merchants through the sands and deserts of Arabia. See Leo Afric. Descr. Afr. lib. vi. p. 246. and Casaub. Treat. of Enthus. c. ii. p. 45. Dr. Bew, in the Transact. of the Manchester Society, mentions an instance not less marvellous in our own country. John Metcalf, a native of the neighbourhood of Manchester, where he is well known, became blind at a very early age, so as to be entirely unconscious of light and its various effects. This man passed the younger part of his life as a waggoner, and occasionally as a guide in intricate roads during the night, or when the tracks were covered with snow. Strange as this may appear to those who can see, the employment he has since undertaken is still more extraordinary: it is one of the last to which we could suppose a blind man would ever turn his attention. His present occupation is that of a projector and surveyor of highways in difficult and mountainous parts. With the assistance only of a long staff, I have several times met this man traversing the roads, ascending precipices, exploring valleys, and investigating their several extents, forms, and situations, so as to answer his designs in the best manner. The plans which he designs, and the estimates he makes, are done in a manner peculiar to himself; and which he cannot well convey the meaning of to others. His abilities in this respect are nevertheless so great, that he finds constant employment. Most of the roads over the Peak in Derbyshire, have been altered by his directions; particularly those in the vicinity of Buxton: and he is at this time constructing a new one betwixt Wilmeslow and Congleton, with a view to open a communication to the great London road, without being obliged to pass over the mountains.'

Those of our readers who wish to pursue these extracts, will find an interesting account of a blind French lady, of remarkable acquirements, in the Annual Register, 1762. But a more remarkable case of providential compensation for this malady, united with that of deafness, occurred in the practice of Sir Hans Sloane. Of this lady it is said, 'During the privation of her sight and hearing, her touch and her smell became so exquisite, that she could distinguish the different colors of silk and flowers, and was sensible when any stranger was in the room with her. After she became blind, and deaf, and dumb, it was