But in our minds, linked by a thousand concatenations, perpetually re called, by the occurrences and conversations of every passing day, repeated time upon time, and impressed by little and little, growing with our growth, and strengthening with our strength, the most of our knowledge is permanent and infixed, as long as our faculties remain entire and uninjured. Inwrought as it were into our mind, and indelibly impressed on our memory, they are like the venerable characters of antiquity, deeply engraven with a pen of iron, in the solid rock. From year to year, they have perpetuated knowledge;— from age to age, they will still speak unto posterity the words of wisdom. The neglectfully unrestrained ivy may overgrow them for a time, the creeping moss of years may conceal them from a superficial search, but, durable as the rock itself, into which they are carved, the exploring hand of enquiry will always find them there, ineffaceable. 66 Appearing as the Deaf and Dumb do in general,† as one of a family, or two of a house;" though sometimes five, six, seven, nine and even eleven have been met, in one domestic cluster; divided as they are from each other, both by time and space, they never can improve their own language of signs and gestures, so as to serve any but the commonest expressions of animal wants, or physical observations; nor will any of "The Hearing," to whom this language is a foreign one, take the trouble to extend it; few even will * "'Tis speech, that ventilates our intellectual fires: And spoil, like bales unopen'd to the sun. Had thought been all, sweet speech had been deny'd; The births of intellect; when DUMB, forgot!" Young. + In the American Philosophical Transactions, vol. vi. Part I. 1824, is a letter from Mr. W. Dunbar, of the Territory of Missisippi, to Mr. T. Jefferson, (President of the American Society of Philadelphia,) giving an account of a language of Signs, used in addition to words, by some Indians of North America, East of the Missisippi; which in many points resembles extremely, that used by the Deaf and Dumb of all countries. The author of the "Observations d'un Sourd & Muet, (who, however, was not himself born Deaf, having possessed hearing and speech until seven years of age, when he lost both by the small pox)-Answers, (p. 12, 13,) this question in some degree, by shewing, that a Society of Deaf and Dumb persons possesses a much more perfect and extensive language of signs, than those who are insulated; which by the way is a strong argument, in favour of collecting them together in a public institution, erected for them alone. -"Monsieur L'Abbe Des Champs, deceives himself much, when he advances (pages 12, 18, 34,) that this language is bounded, among the Deaf and Dumb, to physical things and corporeal wants. This is true, as to those, who are deprived of the society of other Deaf mutes, or who are abandoned in public Hospitals, or isolated in the corner of a province. This proves, at the same time, unanswerably, that it is not from persons, who hear and who 簽 learn it Is not then, in fact, each Deaf and Dumb person's dwelling-place,* like his, who was cast upon that inhospitable unproductive sea-girt rock, that is lost in the boundless Pacific, unnumbered amid the isles of the world, and dissociated far from all commerce with the civilized earth. Nay, he is ever within view of the happy habitations of his fellow-men, and yet, without a pilot to guide him over the interposing waves, of the swelling ocean, that eternally flows between them in ceaseless current. Nay, more, he is unable to approach even the barriers of his prison-house, while its barren uninviting cliffs never tempt even a casual curious voyager to land. Nay, worse he is unable to erect a signal of distress, to attract the attention of passing vessels, and is even without a companion in his misfortunes, to sympathise in his privations-with whom to suffer-with whom to die! What is it, that buoys up our spirits, in the hour of disappointment, and stimulates to renewed exertions, even under accumulating difficulties? Is it not the consolatory prospect, that there is still something before us, though difficult, yet desirable, though frequently elusive of our hasty grasp, yet, shortly to be at last attained; which, though arduous in the prosecution, and tedious, will amply recompense us, by its presence, and even over-pay us, by its possession, for all our long and painful struggles to procure it.-Is it not this anticipated, and fondly expected joy, which lends enchantment to the view, and softly sheds, over all our prospective glimpses of the future scene, a heavenly tint, more glowing and more vivid, than that of all the landscape which has previously been under our view, 66 more bright, than all the past hath been."-Yet to these unhappy children of an unreversed and unmitigated proscription from all the best blessings, which even this world still presents. "That hope ne'er comes, that comes to all beside." Milton. To us, when disgusted with the troublesome and impertinent intrusions of the vanities of the world, the sickening irksomeness of its affectation of friendship, the pomp of its pride, and the insolence of its power, the press unlocks all its stores of prose and of poetry, of natural, civil, political and religious history, of fiction and of reality, to amuse our minds, offering us a ready refuge from the pursuit of folly: But to those poor uneducated mutes, speak, that we learn commonly the language of signs. But it is quite otherwise with the Deaf and Dumb, who live in society with each other in a great city-in Paris, for example, which we may call with reason, the abridgement of the wonders of the universe. In such a theatre, our ideas develope themselves and extend by the occasions, that we have of seeing and observing incessantly new and interesting objects," &c. &c. * A description of a short voyage in my father's sloop, Washington, before I came to the American Asylum. "Books are but tedious dullness, formal friends," Poetry, with imaginative mind, and delusive magic hand, weaves and decks her fancifully platted and variegated wreath for them in vain.+ Oratory pleads not, Eloquence is dead: The most accurate delineator of manners describes to no purpose-The most didactic writer teacheth in vain-the wisest Moralist moralizes unheard-the Scripture is as if extinct! Though given by the inspiration of GOD," it is neither "profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, or for instruction in righteousness." To him there exists no chronology of time-no record of creation,-no biography of wisdom-no memoirs of virtue-no narrative of exertion-no relics of piety-no portraiture of Godliness. Thus, while the human mind is perfecting know ledge and inventing and improving, and combining experience, to produce results, and calculating contingencies, to ensure success, the Deaf and Dumb individual has only his own unassisted observation, to guide and direct him, uncorrected by that of others, unextended by the wisdom of his ancestors. On marches the human mind, from age to age, with progressive advances, in accelerating pace, and with cumulative force-obtaining new territories, conquering new obstaclesreclaiming every wilderness, recording every cultivation and history de and unfortunate. I wished to talk with my friends, by speaking and hearing, about the subjects. While I was in the Washington, I was thinking, I was an uncommon (the sole) Deaf and Dumb boy in the world. "The plain expression of Prose cannot be distinguished from the ornamental measure of Verse. They can in no wise conceive, how the thread of speech is spun, how it is woven into a discourse, and how it is embroidered by the flowers of diction. They can hold no verbal communion with their relatives and neighbours, they are equally unconscious of the accents of love and friendship. Should a narrating grandsire offer them his tale of adventures and exploits, they are incapable of accepting his gift. The most able professor might exhibit facts, and institute reasoning upon them, without being in any degree understood. Though life depends on it, one of these unfortunates, if the ery of alarm or shout of danger were sounded, would be wholly beyond its reach. Was an Angel to make him a visit, there would be need of some other mode of saluting and con. versing, than by words."+ + "What is a Poet? A Poet is a man of genins, to write various kinds of Poetry. Prose is usually changed into Poetry, these express the same meaning. But Prose is a free and unlimited writing, as well as (like) walking in motion. Yet Poetry is dependent on the rhyme and even sentences, like dancing. Dancing is a charming and regular sight. Poetry a pretty and even speech."+ "We live in an age distinguished for benevolence. Already has it freed the Slave from his bondage, and bestowed on him the invaluable blessing of freedom. As these humane *Sixth Report of the American Asylum, at Hartford, Connecticut. 1822. p. 18. tails its progress to no purpose-All the accumulated intellect, and wisdom, and zeal, and devotion of preceding ages is lost. To him it is as if the world began, but at his birth, as if the human race was born but yesterday, destined to be "crushed before the moth." and Who are there among you, that discover in the calm delights of brotherly affection, and Christian fellowship, that solace of this world of sorrow, that foretaste of the bliss and blessedness of heaven, one of the sweetest, most unalloyed and most abiding of your pleasures! On you I call, with a voice of power, for your commiseration. Remember, that the helpless mute is precluded from all these blessings, and precluded only by the neglect of you, his more favoured fellow-creatures. Friendship solicits him to no purpose, and brotherly love invites in vain, he feels indeed within his heart a void, but he knows not how to fill it, he has never learned "In that kind school, where no proud master reigns, Improving and improved:" Thomson's Seasons, ii. 1,394. reformations regard Liberty and Life, more than the culture of the understanding and of the heart. Examples may be demanded more apposite to the present enquiry-here they are In common Schools and Colleges, literary and moral discourses are delivered by the Teachers to the Students, and recitations and compositions submitted by pupils to their in. structors; all pre-suppose the use of the ear and tongue. But from all these exercises the Deaf and Dumb are excluded. The Courts of Law, the Halls of Legislation and Chambers of Debate, furnish materials for the most profound reflection, to those who can understand the proceedings: These are performed by the voice and addressed to the ear; but these exercises are nullities to the Deaf and Dumb. The social and domestic circle, where the amenities and suavities of life subsist, and are enjoyed, where the diversified occupations of the household are ordered and done; where rational and cultured man holds converse with his friend, and both are content.-That society of the fire-side circle, I say, presumes speech and listeners.-How hard is it for the Deaf and Dumb, that they know nothing about it! When the goodly line of young persons is extended before the catechist, the principles and doctrines of religion are inculcated by words-but to those exercises the Deaf and Dumb have no approach. In Churches, erected for the worship of the Deity, the lessons of the reader, the res ponses of the congregation, the sermon of the preacher, and the hymns and psalms of the choristers, impart edification and comfort, to those who can hear and speak, but in these acts the Deaf and Dumb have no participation."* A Discourse, pronounced by request of the Society, for Instructing the Deaf and Dumb, at the City Hall, in the City of New-York, on the 24th day of March, 1818, by Hon. Samuel L. Mitchill, M.D. one of the Vice-Presidents of the Society. New-York, printed Ye who derive from these associates of your days, the chiefest balm of your afflictions, the most potent alleviation of your anxiety, the "dulce lenimen cura"-who find, in the society of the wise and good, the very strongest and most animating encouragements to improvement in wisdom, to growth in piety and virtue, in holiness and devotion: need I tell you, that there are some thousands of your fellow-mortals, in this kingdom, who have never worn, and, unless taught by your bounty, never can wear the pleasing light and easy yoke of Christian brotherhood-who have never fully felt "the tie of social friends, attuned to happy unison of soul,"* need I remind you, that there are some of your brethren after the flesh, who never have enjoyed any of these pleasures, who though journeying along the same rough road, and travelling through the same country, as pilgrims tending towards the same eternal bourn, are uncheered by the consolatory tenderness of friendship, are unsupported by the voice of social encouragement, or religious counsel. Oh! if ever you have known what it is, to have an anxious breast soothed into calm, by Christian consolation "Until, at last, the mind suspends her graver cares, Whoe er thou art-whom such delights can touch, Pleasures of Imagination, i. 155. When harrassed by the vexations and miseries of the world, wearied with its vanities, tired of its follies, and disgusted with its empty pleasures, that best and blessed, and only real comforter, Religion, presents to us the richest balm of consolation, and offers us, with all the forgiving tenderness of the kindest friend, a certain refuge from every anxiety, in an humble resignation and a meek hope. Bent down by misfortunes also, while we cannot smile at the present gloominess and lowering aspect of the sky, Religion teaches us to hope, that from behind that very selfsame frowning cloud, which blackens over our heads in the rayless heaven, shall again, when a few short hours are past, shine forth the smiling orb of day, emerging once more in unclouded beauty, radiating in his glory, and walking in the majesty of his might! GOD is that sun, to which we look! Surely to these clouds we may well apply the lofty language of the east, and say, "His anger is but Mercy, enabling us to behold his power." Surely in every sorrow, in every trial, Hope kindly whispers in our ears, that even though "Sorrow may endure for a night, yet joy shall come again in the morning' Nay, even if Providence were to *Seasons ii. 1383. |