the hands of the men who created the schools. In the
prospectuses of some of the schools any object is disclaimed other than
that of education. In a circular describing the proposed school in
Kansas were the words: "This is not an asylum, but a school for the
education of the deaf."[203] Homes, or institutions, were provided
largely for the reason that this plan appeared the only practicable
means of reaching a considerable number of pupils.
With the early workers, then, the purpose was to give the children an
education. But this was not all. In their vision, a far greater opening
presented itself. Heretofore the deaf had been outcasts from society,
had no place among civilized beings, and were a dead weight in the
community. Now all was to be changed. Eyes saw a glorious
transformation: the deaf were to be restored to society, and education
was the magic by which it was to be done. In full measure were the
founders thrilled with this prospect; and to reclaim the deaf from their
condition was the great resolve.
Many of the early reports, charters and organic acts express such a
purpose, and speak of the "lonely and cheerless condition" of the deaf,
and the hope to "restore them to the ranks of their species." In the
preamble of an "Address to the Inhabitants of Pennsylvania," prepared by
the society to establish the school in this state,[204] the deaf are
said to be in "entire and invincible separation from the vast stores of
knowledge which human talent has accumulated--ignorant of the truths of
Revelation, her glorious assurances and unspeakable consolations," all
being "among the bitter ingredients which fill up the vast measure of
the affliction to the deaf and dumb;" and that "among the various
efforts of philanthropy and learning to enlarge the circle of human
happiness and knowledge, none should perhaps rank higher than those
which have been directed to the discovery and application of means for
the instruction of the deaf and dumb."
In language glowing and impassioned the condition of the deaf without
education is described. Almost universally they are thought of as
abiding in impenetrable silence and deep darkness. In an address
delivered before the New York Forum in behalf of the New York
Institution[205] in its early days, it is asserted that the deaf dwell
in "silence, solitude and darkness," and in the second report of this
school[206] they are declared to be "wrapt in impenetrable gloom of
silence, s
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