Elizabeth Gilbert and Her Work for the Blind Part 16

1. As long as those employed and taught by the a.s.sociation, or receiving any benefit whatsoever therefrom, shall be admitted by the decision of the Committee, or by some one deputed by themselves, and not by the votes of the subscribers.

2. As long as blindness shall not disqualify any person from holding the office of Superintendent, Traveller, or Porter.

3. As long as it is a fundamental rule of the a.s.sociation that the immediate objects of this a.s.sociation shall be to afford employment to those blind persons who for want of work have been compelled to solicit alms, or who may be likely to be tempted to do so; to cause those unacquainted with a trade to be instructed in some industrial art; and to introduce trades. .h.i.therto unpractised by the blind; also to support a circulating library consisting of books in various systems of relief printing, to the advantages of which the indigent blind shall be admitted free of charge, and others upon payment of the subscription required by the Committee; to collect and disseminate information relative to the physical, mental, moral, and religious condition of the blind; and to promote among individuals and inst.i.tutions, seeking to ameliorate the condition of the blind, a friendly interchange of information calculated to advance the common cause among all cla.s.ses of the blind.

4. As long as the Committee shall consist of both ladies and gentlemen.

5. As long as at least six blind men or women shall be supplied with work at their homes by the a.s.sociation, each at a sum of not less than six shillings per week; and so long as at least three blind men and three blind women shall be receiving instruction at the cost of the a.s.sociation.

These conditions deserve the careful consideration of every one interested in the blind, and should be religiously observed in the Inst.i.tution founded by Bessie Gilbert.

Her work had now greatly increased; a large number of blind persons were regularly employed, and the public had responded to every appeal for funds. A meeting was held in May 1859, with the Bishop of London in the chair, and the time seemed to have come for that further information which Colonel Phipps had intimated might be sent to the Queen.

In April 1859, therefore, a letter was written to Her Most Gracious Majesty, by her very dutiful and humble servant E. M. M. Gilbert, to which the following reply was received:

BUCKINGHAM PALACE, _7th May 1859_.

MADAM--In reply to your letter of the 29th April, I have now the pleasure to inform you that Her Majesty the Queen has been graciously pleased to grant her patronage to the a.s.sociation for Promoting the General Welfare of the Blind, for which you have shown so much sympathetic interest and so large and liberal a benevolence.--I have the honour to be, madam, your obedient humble servant, C. B. PHIPPS.

Miss Gilbert.

Bessie returned very dutiful acknowledgments and grateful thanks to the Queen, who had for the second time granted her pet.i.tion and rendered signal service to her cause.

Henceforward, on the first page of annual reports, and on all bills and notices, appear the magical words--

Patroness. Her Most Gracious Majesty the Queen.

They were doubtless, as Bessie believed them to be, a tower of strength to her, inspiring confidence, securing friends, bringing custom and money.

Proud and happy too were the blind workmen as they sat round their little table, cautiously dipping fibre into the boiling pitch. They could reply to inquirers that orders had been received from Buckingham Palace, from Osborne, and from Windsor Castle, and that they were "making brooms for the Queen."

CHAPTER XIV

EVERYDAY LIFE

"Ce que peut la vertu d'un homme ne se doit pas mesurer par ses efforts, mais par son ordinaire."--PASCAL.

In January 1859 Bessie, with a younger sister, paid a ten days' visit to Fir Grove, Eversley, the home of her friend Miss Erskine. It was at this time that she became personally acquainted with Charles Kingsley. She heard him preach in his own church, and the sermon was one that she always referred to with grat.i.tude as having helped and strengthened her.[7]

Miss Erskine remembers that Bessie walked and talked with Mr. and Mrs.

Kingsley, and that they learnt to love her dearly. They quickly recognised the brave and faithful nature of the blind lady. "When you have medicine to take you drink it all up," said Charles Kingsley.[8]

Never was there a truer remark.

She might, in the diary she was then keeping, have recorded many interesting incidents connected with that visit. But she merely makes a note of work done on behalf of the a.s.sociation, and there is one solitary mention of Mr. Kingsley's name--"talked to Mr. Kingsley about the Museum." That she talked about the a.s.sociation it is unnecessary to add, and as a proof of it we find in the spring that Mr. Kingsley asked the Rev. Llewelyn Davies either to preach or to lend his pulpit in aid of her work.

On her return to Chichester the remainder of January was spent in writing letters to ask for anecdotes concerning the blind, and in obtaining material for her proposed book.

An autograph letter soliciting patronage was written at this time to the blind King of Hanover. She tells how she first dictated, then copied it herself, and also wrote herself to enclose it to Miss Boyle, by whom it was to be forwarded. "Seems little enough," she adds, "but took a long time."

With regard to her biographies, Levy writes as follows:

"I think Mr. Taylor would lend any work he has; the best he has I think are all German. The translations which I have heard from them remind me of the efforts which have been made to discover the North-West Pa.s.sage, you are continually boring through ice, and if perchance you do meet with a piece of clear water you are no sooner aware that it is such than you are hemmed in with ice again.

"If you were to write and ask him to lend you any work on the biography of the blind it would do good, but all that Germany has produced for the blind is not worth spending much time upon." He proceeds to tell her of a meeting held at St. John's Wood, and of the feeling that seemed to prevail that the inst.i.tution there for the blind must either adopt "our views" or else come to the ground; and how in consequence of this the t.i.tle had been changed to "The London Society for teaching the blind to read and for teaching the Blind Industrial Arts." He ends his letter, "It seems truly miraculous that in so short a s.p.a.ce of time so much should be done with the various inst.i.tutions. There is St. John's Wood, St. George's, Manchester, Bristol, Exeter, York, and Bath of which we know."

Bessie's friends heard of her proposed book on the blind with interest.

Mr. Browne, the Rector of Pevensey, wrote in warm approval, and offered when in London to consult books for her at the British Museum. The late Colonel Fyers wrote from Dover Castle, enclosing an account of the life of a blind doctor, Rockliffe, of Ashley in Lincolnshire. Her brother Tom writes from Trinity College, sending notes on the life of the blind professor, Sanderson of Cambridge, who died in 1739. He speaks of a picture on the stairs of the library, of which he thinks she might make use. Her own note-book is filled with accounts of the lives of Holman, Gough, Huber, Laura Bridgman, and others. Many letters sent to her at this time have been preserved; one from a blind man, Elisha Bates, interested her greatly:--

ELISHA BATES. I am thirty-three years of age. I was born at Coburn near Richmond, Yorkshire. My parents were agricultural labourers. I was born quite blind. I was always fond of horses. I used as a little boy to drive the horses in Mr. Fryer's threshing machine. I began this about nine years of age. I went daily to the ploughing fields, and although so young I was allowed to drive the horses for the ploughman. I could very early find my way about the village and to the different fields of the farmers. Up to eleven years of age I went with the other boys of the village to seek birds' nests, and often found my way to and from the neighbouring villages. I always had an excellent memory for recollecting the turns in the road and the variations of the surface, by which I was guided. I never had a stick up to this time, and up to the present time I rarely use one.

I went to the Liverpool Blind Inst.i.tution at twelve years of age, and learnt to read in the characters for the blind, and was taught the trade of ropemaking. I was so good in finding my way at Liverpool that I used to take charge of an old man [Hewell Kennedy]

in our walking excursions. He was lame, deaf, and blind, and I used to take him about three miles up the London Road to the Old Swan Inn. I never forget a road I have once travelled over. I have no difficulty in avoiding obstacles. I think I do so from the acuteness of my hearing; I listen attentively to my footfall, and when approaching any object which may intercept my progress, even a lamp-post, I can discover a slight difference in the sound. If I have any doubt I tread a little louder, so as to satisfy my ear. I never fail in making it out. The difference in the sound is difficult to describe; but if I am near a wall or any object in my path I feel the sound to be more confined and not to extend itself as in an open s.p.a.ce. It comes quicker to my ear. I left Liverpool at the age of seventeen and returned by railway to my native village. I remained a year at home and drove the farmer's horses. I then went to the Victoria Asylum at Newcastle-upon-Tyne, where I earned 8s. a week in making ropes. I remained there until I was twenty-two years old. Whilst in Newcastle I got thoroughly acquainted with the streets, and used to take out and deliver goods in the town. I came home by the railway and stayed two or three months. I then found my way on foot and alone to Sunderland, 45 miles. I asked people on the way how to steer my course. I always learnt what turns I had to take and the distance from place to place. I could calculate very accurately the time it took me to complete any given distance, and knew exactly when I arrived at the end of it. I then found my way from Sunderland to Newcastle, some 15 miles of very busy road, and had a great many of the colliery railways to cross. I walked back from Newcastle to Colburn unattended and alone. I then, after remaining at home a short time, started for Leeds, and walked above 50 miles in two days. I am a very quick walker on a good road. I went in search of work. I went alone from Leeds to Bradford, 10 miles of very busy road. I returned home walking alone the whole way by Otley, Knaresborough, and Leming, about 50 miles. I married after my return from Newcastle and have two children. After my last journey from Bradford I settled down at Richmond. My wife never travels with me, I always go alone. At Richmond I commenced with a donkey and cart as a firewood gatherer. My wife and I gathered firewood and brought it in my cart to Richmond, and sold it to my customers. I next got a pony and larger cart, and have ever since regularly led coals from the railway station into the town. I can find my way to any house in the town and never have any a.s.sistance in driving my cart and going about. I get off and on to my cart as well as any other driver, and when it is empty I sit on my cart and drive with reins.

With a load I go by the horse's head. I can tell instantly when any other vehicle is either coming towards me or coming past me in the same direction, and I turn my horse accordingly to avoid them. I never have any falls in walking alone, and never come in contact with anything when driving. I have never had any accident I groom my pony myself and go to purchase all the food it requires. I have always enjoyed good health. I have my amus.e.m.e.nts as well as work. I go angling in the River Swale with rod, and salmon roe as bait, and occasionally get a good dish of trout. I have also been a nut-gatherer, and found my way to the woods, and have gathered large quant.i.ties, which I have sold. I am fond of singing, and used to play the piano a little at Liverpool. I have not had any opportunities of doing so since. I do not always confine my leading coals to the town of Richmond; I occasionally take a load of coals or other articles, such as furniture, to a distance of 10 or 12 miles from the town. I was the other day employed with my horse and cart at Crake Hall near Bedale, 12 miles from Richmond. Of course I do all my work by myself and unattended by any one.

RICHMOND, _2d June 1859_.

Bessie refers in her diary at this time to MSS. in a considerable "state of advance;" but the only part of her work actually completed by herself and now recoverable is the t.i.tle-page. She was too closely occupied with the work done in the Euston Road to give much time to the writing of a book. In the midst of a record of her literary work we come upon such an entry as "sold two brushes." Indeed there was no time in which she would not gladly throw aside anything else in order to "sell two brushes."

Early in February she paid a short visit to friends at Ashling, in Suss.e.x; and on the 26th of February we have the last entry in her diary.

The full details of her busy life are at an end. There is no further detailed account of the interminable letters and appeals, the visits to blind men and women, the arrangements and plans and suggestions. They are all to go on for many a long year; but the labour of recording them is abandoned, and there is an attempt to diminish work which threatens to be overwhelming.

One of her letters at this time is to Mr. Eyre, "Rector of Marlbourne."

What almost insuperable difficulties spelling must offer even to the educated blind! How much more we all learn from sight, from reading, than from the dictionary! When a word occurs for the first time to a blind person he can only spell by ear; and Marlbourne for Marylebone is a very creditable solution of a difficulty.

One of the most interesting workmen in the Inst.i.tution at this time was both blind and deaf. Levy heard of, and, at Bessie's request, visited him in his own home. The poor fellow had worked to support two sisters and an aged mother until severe illness, fever, robbed him of sight and hearing. He had regained health, but sat in one corner of the room moaning "I am wretched, very wretched." Hearing no sound of his own voice he had ceased to speak to others, and sat in silence, save for these incessant moans, and in darkness; roused from time to time by a push on the shoulder and a plate of food put into his hands. The sisters did their best to support themselves and him by their needle, but he was as one living in the grave, and he was only twenty-one.

Such a case excited Bessie's deepest compa.s.sion. In a single afternoon Levy roused the poor fellow from almost hopeless despondency, and placed him once more in communication with the world around; taught him the letters of the dumb alphabet on his own hand, and spelt out the joyful information that he could learn a trade and earn his living by it. He did not readily believe this, but from that time the moans of "wretched, very wretched" ceased. He was admitted at once as a pupil at Euston Road, and learnt so rapidly that in six weeks he was able to write letters to his friends. Also he had ceased to "spoil material," which is the general occupation of learners for many months, and was earning between four and five shillings a week; whilst at the end of a year he was in receipt of excellent wages.

Bessie went frequently to the workshop "to talk to A." He would repeat aloud the letters formed upon his hand, and guess words and even sentences in a surprising manner. It was instructive to remark how soon an intelligent listener knows all you are going to say, and how unnecessary are many of our long explanations. Valuable lessons in brevity and conciseness were to be learnt from A., and the blind and deaf man soon brought you down to the bare bones of the information you had to give. An angry glance was thrown away upon him, and finger talk has no equivalent for that slight and incisive raising of the voice which implies that the speaker intends a listener to hear him to the end.

The slow, monotonous utterance of the deaf man, a p.r.o.nunciation which, as years pa.s.sed on, became strangely unreal, and a sense of the loneliness to which he was condemned, attracted much attention to this intelligent man.

After a time he married. His wife, a widow with a little girl, was no comfort to him; but the child soon became his inseparable and devoted companion. When work was over she used to read a newspaper to him. She uttered no sound, but sat with the paper in her lap, whilst her little fingers fluttered about his hand like the wings of a bird, and his slow monotonous voice followed her, repeating words and sentences, or telling her to go on to something else.

One day Bessie, who was often accompanied by a friend, took with her Miss Elizabeth Wordsworth, daughter of the late Bishop of Lincoln, to have a chat with A.

Miss Wordsworth sent her the following poem in memory of the visit: