1813 - A Visit to the National Institution of Deaf Mutes to Witness Laurent Clerc

In 1813 there is an account by two military men that met on occasion in Paris to reminisce about their

experiences of the past. On one such visit they visited the National Institution for the Deaf-Mutes.

“But while chatting, we climbed the Rue Saint-Jacques and arrived at the former Saint-Magloire

seminary, where the National Institution for the Deaf-Mutes is now located. A good, stout

concierge-upon whom nature had been a little too liberal with the gift of speech it had refused to the

other inhabitants of the house-showed us the way to the session hall, at the end of a vast courtyard

around which brilliant carriages were lined up.

The hall was already full. The front benches were occupied by elegant women and a fairly large

number of distinguished foreigners. The rest of the audience consisted of scholars, men of letters,

schoolboys who came to take a course in moral physiology under this skilled professor, and some

schoolmasters and schoolmistresses who attended his lessons to learn spelling and correct the mistakes

they had taught the day before.

The young deaf-mutes of both sexes arrived and took their places on their benches. Those designated

to answer ranged themselves on a kind of amphitheater, the back of which was furnished with a

blackboard intended for demonstrations. While these young people occupied the attention of the spectators, the spectators in turn became the object of their observations, which they communicated from one end of the hall to the other in a manner less noisy but just as rapid. Their faces are so expressive, their gestures so animated, that without being initiated into the mystery of their language, one easily guesses the subject of their conversation. It is sometimes so gay and so epigrammatic that their supervisors are obliged to impose upon them the silence of inaction. Their criticism, more playful than malicious, is exercised particularly on the women whose figure, face,and bearing are in turn discussed and judged at their little tribunal. Maurice's niece and sister did not escape this examination. They were seated in such a way as to be seen by only one pupil, who took it upon himself to make their portrait for his comrades. The pretty face of the young person, her modest air, and even her extreme freshness were expressed in so picturesque a manner that the amiable model— who had not missed the painter's action— blushed at once with modesty and pleasure.

The mute interlocutors then questioned the same young man about the mother of the one whose

charming portrait he had just made for them. He depicted her with such comical gestures and

indicated so amusingly the curve of her parrot-like nose (whose tip seemed about to meet her chin) that

all eyes turned toward the good lady, who herself laughed at a grimace in which she was far from recognizing herself.

Among the most elegant women present at these assemblies, one easily distinguishes, by the expression

of their gazes incessantly fixed on the amphitheater, those drawn there by maternal interest. It often

happens that, disregarding the established rule, a few little mutes furtively leave their places to come

and embrace their mother or sister whom they have spotted in the hall. But noon strikes. The learned

instructor appears with Massieu, his principal pupil and assistant (Clerc). Everything falls back into

order, the exercises begin, and the general attention is immediately captivated.

The first part o f the session is devoted t o grammatical questions that Monsieur l'Abbé Sicard develops

for the instruction of his listeners, and whose solutions are given by his pupils with a clarity and

precision that would do honor to the most learned grammarians. When one reflects on how much

effort, patience, and ingenuity it must have taken to instill so many abstract ideas into the minds of

these children without the aid of speech and solely through the intermediary of the eyes, it is

impossible not to be seized with the deepest admiration. This feeling increases still further when,

passing from grammar to metaphysics, one hears deaf-mutes by birth analyze human thought by

processes whose very expression they had to create.

Among many replies of admirable sagacity, I choose those that Massieu and "Leclerc” (Clerc) the two strongest pupils of Monsieur Sicard— gave me personally. I asked them "what difference there is between desire and hope. "

MASSIEU:

Desire is a tree in leaf; hope is a tree in flower; enjoyment is a tree in fruit.

LECLERC (CLERC):

Desire is an inclination of the heart; hope is a confidence of the mind.

I do not know if I am mistaken, but it seems to me that this last definition would deserve to be noted in

a chapter of Locke or Condillac. It is by such examples that Monsieur l'Abbé Sicard succeeds indemonstrating that not only are all the nuances of spoken language appreciable to the deaf-mutes, but

that their language — which one might call the language of ideas-is truly richer than ours, since one

cannot deny that a man gifted with a lively imagination and an extended mind engenders more ideas

than he finds expressions to render them.

To conclude the session, Monsieur Massieu dictated to the young Leclerc (Clerc) the discourse

pronounced by Monsieur Ledieu at the tomb of the Abbé Delille. His gestures were so distinct and so

rapid at the same time that the discourse was written as quickly under the dictation of gestures as it

could have been under the dictation of sounds. With the signs Massieu used to depict the great French

poet, Leclerc (Clerc) had at first written Virgil; but upon the observation made to him, he wrote Delille

underneath and joined the two names with the same bracket. General acclamations, among which

could be distinguished those that enthusiasm drew from my old friend, proved to the celebrated

instructor all the value placed on his useful labors and the extreme interest taken in his pupils.

Monsieur l'Abbé Sicard seized this moment to inform the assembly "that there exist in France two thousand deaf-mutes, independently of the three hundred admitted into the establishment entrusted to his care; that among the former, several being unable to pay their pension - modest though it be—a collection box has been placed at the door of the session hall to receive the pious offerings of those persons who can appreciate the benefit of education in such misfortune."

It was a very sweet observation for me to make: the eagerness with which everyone hastened to

discharge this debt of benevolence. But I had every reason to believe that the women who no longer

carry pockets or money would have the chagrin o f taking no part in this good action. I was mistaken. I

saw several of them (obeying one of those spontaneous movements of the soul that ordinarily inspire

them so well) detach their earrings, their rings, their necklaces, and even the chain of the lorgnette that

one of them wore around her neck, and throw them into the box for these unfortunate deaf-mutes.

The more I live, the more I am convinced that, all things considered, men-and especially women-are

better than certain peevish moralists would like us to believe."