acquainted with. I have never been able to procure any account of the mode of teaching the deaf and dumb in other parts of Europe, but I presume it has kept pace with the improvements of the Abbe Sicard, many of whose scholars would, from the facility with which they comprehend, the readiness with which they answer in their way, and the correctness of their information, do credit to their instructor, had they enjoyed the use of all their faculties: in addition to the language of signs and gests, they are attentive to the motion of the lips, and not only learn to distinguish words and sentences in that manner, but also by applying their fingers in the dark, to the mouth of the person speaking. That wonderful machine, the human hand, which serves as an eye to the blind, serves in this instance as an ear to the deaf and dumb. I have explained to you in a former letter how the blind are taught to write sentences so as to be read by others who are also blind, and the same mode of communication has been practised with success between them and the deaf and dumb, two sorts of human creatures between whom Providence had placed, what. might have seemed, an insurmountable Barrier: they have, I was told, something like an antipathy to each other, and the children of the two schools would be always quarrelling in their way, if permitted to intermix; they feel perhaps, that neither class is at the head of the human scale, and are doubtful about precedence. We should be, I think, extremely embarrassed to choose between the two situations, if it were possible that we could be called upon to decide, and to say whether we had rather be deaf and dumb, or blind; these last have great advantages in the facility with which they may acquire knowledge, but are much more dependent in common life, and infinitely more circumscribed in the choice of a profession or a trade; their external appearance too is against them; they are extremely awkward in their gait and gestures, and betray in every motion almost the want of the sense they are deprived of: the deaf and dumb, on the contrary, know the value of a good appearance, and live so much in the constant exercise of their hands and arms, as to become graceful in the use of them, their eye too is all quickness and penetration, it is the eye of a poet or a painter, and illumines their countenance. They have, besides, the inestimable advantage of reading for amusement: their mode of conversing by signs and gestures is limited indeed, but less so than you would imagine, and they have a method of aerial writing like the Chinese, who are accustomed, when the sense of a word they make use of is doubtful, to draw the root or character of it in the air with the finger. The Sourd-muets trace words in the same manner far more rapidly than we do with a pen, those to whom they address themselves, being in the habit of reading backwards, as the blind do with their fingers. The misfortune of the Abbe Sicard had not finished with his escape from the murderers of the 2d of September; he had been once more arrested and then enlarged, and after two years of distress was again a third time imprisoned, and on the point of being separated forever from his pupils. The intention was, it appears, to send him at a proper opportunity to Cayenne, and it was during the long and tedious hours of confinement, and of cruel suspense, that he composed his course of instruction for the deaf and dumb, of which I have endeavoured to give you some idea. A change of measures however took place, he was released, and had his property restored to him: he is now assisted and patronized by the government, and the most rigid Carmelite, (if any yet remain of those pious sisters) will not think her convent profaned by the residence of such a man, or by the use it is put to. Massieu whom I have mentioned to you, who is the wonder of the Abbe's school, has published an account of himself: it is a history of his feelings, and if we may suppose (as I presume we may) that he never deceives himself and mistakes imagination for memory, it is one of the most interesting compositions that exist, and adds a valuable chapter to the history of mankind. His ideas of right and wrong were taught him, he says, by his father's applauses and by a cane, which stood in the corner of the room. From seeing the family at times on their knees, with uplifted hands, he had conceived there was something greater beyond the clouds, and this it was, he supposed, that descended at night and drew towards it the plants and grains which were committed to the earth. Animals he thought, were produced, and grew like plants. He perceived that other boys were in possession of some faculty that he had not, and thought that it might be acquired at school, where they regularly assembled, but he found (and it made him weep) that he gained nothing by going there. He learned to count ten in taking care of his sheep, and would then notch down one upon his staff, and begin counting another ten, but that was the extent of his acquirements. When first brought to Bourdeaux, he was every day in expectation of seeing the new flock he was to take care of, and fearful in the meantime of some evil intention in those about him, and of some mischief in every motion, and was trying to get back to his sheep again, when the Abbe Sicard commenced his education. It must seem almost incredible to you, that this poor lad should have so rapidly become what I have described him, and that he should astonish the audience, as he frequently does at the exhibitions of the Abbe Sicard, by answers to such questions as people frequently come prepared to make him. What is eternity? It is a day without yesterday, or tomorrow; It is a never-ending time of which we know not the beginning. What is a revolution? It is a tree, the roots of which have shot up in place of the stem. What is gratitude? It is the memory of the heart. Such are the answers which Mássieu gives, and you will agree with me, that it would be scarcely possible to give better, or to express them more happily. From Le Beau Monde, or Literary and Fashionable Magazine for April, 1809. FINE ARTS-BRITISH REMAINS. Let laurels, drenched in pure Parnassian dews, COWPER. MONUMENT TO GENERAL ABERCROMBIE, It seems destined for the most illustrious of our modern generals to conclude their glorious career in countries distant from their own, and to entrust their remains to the lands of strangers. While we rear monuments to their memory, we are denied the solemn privilege of sacredly preserving the last vestiges of their humanity! If the spirit be present with us, still the body is absent. We can secure the sad relics of a Nelson; but those of an Abercrombie, or a Moore, are con signed to the custody of their enemies. Grave-the guardian of their dust! Grave!-the treasury of the skies! Every atom of thy trust Rests again, in hope, to rise? MONTGOMERY. How fair was the course, how bright the close, of the career of Abercrombie! His honourable activity was recompensed with unfading glory. A life exhausted in the most arduous services to his country, and pure from even the suspicion of unworthiness, was, after being happily protracted to the full limits generally alloted to human existence, meritoriously yielded up, an acceptable sacrifice, on the holy altar of patriotism. Beloved by his compatriots, idolized by his soldiers, and respected by his enemies, it was the enviable destiny of Sir Ralph Abercrombie to expire in the arms of glory, and at the moment. VOL. II. G |