_The College of the Deaf and Dumb.--Abbé
Sicard.--Bagatelle.--Police.--Grand National Library.--Bonaparte's
Review.--Tambour Major of the Consular Regiment.--Restoration of
Artillery Colours._
I had long anticipated the delight which I expected to derive from the
interesting public lecture of the abbé Sicard, and the examination of
his pupils. This amiable and enlightened man presides over an
institution which endears his name to humanity, and confers unfading
honour upon the nation which cherishes it by its protection and
munificence. My reader will immediately conclude that I allude to the
College of the Deaf and Dumb. By the genius and perseverance of the late
abbé Charles Michael de l'Epée, and his present amiable successor, a
race of fellow beings, denied by a privation of hearing, of the powers
of utterance, insulated in the midst of multitudes bearing their own
image, and cut off from the participation, within sight, of all the
endearing intercourses of social life, are restored, as it were, to the
blessings of complete existence. The glorious labours of these
philanthropists, in no very distant ages, would have conferred upon
them, the reputation and honours of beings invested with superhuman
influence. By making those faculties which are bestowed, auxiliary to
those which are denied, the deaf are taught to hear, and the dumb to
speak. A silent representative language, in which the eye officiates
for the ear, and communicates the charms of science, and the delights of
common intercourse to the mind, with the velocity, facility, and
certainty of sound, has been presented to these imperfect children of
nature. The plan of the abbé, I believe, is before the world. It cannot
be expected, in a fugitive sketch like the present, to attempt an
elaborate detail of it. Some little idea of its rudiments may, perhaps,
be imparted, by a plain description of what passed on the examination
day, when I had the happiness of being present.
On the morning of the exhibition, the streets leading to the College
were lined with carriages, for humanity has here made a convert of
fashion, and directed her wavering mind to objects from which she cannot
retire, without ample and consoling gratification. Upon the lawn, in
front of the College, were groups of the pupils, enjoying those sports
and exercises which are followed by other children, to whom Providence
has been more bountiful. Some of their recreations required calculation,
and I observed that their intercourse with each other appeared to be
easy, swift, and intelligible. They made some convulsive movements with
their mouths, in the course of their communication, which, at first, had
rather an unpleasant effect. In the cloister I addressed myself to a
genteel looking youth, who did not appear to belong to the College, and
requested him to shew me the way to the theatre, in which the lecture
was to be delivered. I found he took no notice of me. One of the
assistants of the abbé, who was standing near me, informed me, he was
deaf and dumb, and made two or three signs, too swift for me to
discriminate; the silent youth bowed, took me by the hand, led me into
the theatre, and, with the greatest politeness, procured me an excellent
seat. The room was very crowded, and in the course of a quarter of an
hour after I had entered, every avenue leading to it was completely
filled with genteel company. The benches of the auditors of the lecture,
displayed great beauty and fashion, a stage, or tribune, appeared in
front, behind was a large inclined slate, in a frame, about eight feet
high, by six long. On each side of the stage the scholars were placed,
and behind the spectators was a fine bust of the founder of the
institution, the admirable de l'Epée.
The abbé Sicard mounted the tribune, and delivered his lecture with very
pleasing address, in the course of which he frequently excited great
applause. The subject of it was an analysis of the language of the deaf
and dumb, interspersed with several curious experiments upon, and
anecdotes of his pupils. The examination of the scholars next followed.
The communication which has been opened to them in this singular manner,
is by the _philosophy of grammar_.
The denotation of the tenses is effected by appropriate signs. The hand
thrown over the shoulder, expressed the past, when extended, like the
attitude of inviting, it denoted the future, and the finger inverted
upon the breast, indicated the present tense. A single sign communicated
a word, and frequently a sentence. A singular instance of the first
occurred. A gentleman amongst the spectators, who appeared to be
acquainted with the art of the abbé, was requested to make a sign, to
the pupil then under examination, the moment it was made, the scholar
chalked upon the slate, in a fine swift flowing hand, "une homme." The
pupil erred; the gentleman renewed the sign; when he immediately wrote,
"une personne," to the astonishment of every person present. This
circumstance is a strong instance of the powers of discrimination, of
which this curious communication is susceptible.
Some of the spectators requested the abbé to describe, by signs, several
sentences which they repeated from memory, or read from authors, which
were immediately understood by the pupils, and penciled upon the slate.
The lecture and examination lasted about three hours. Upon the close of
this interesting exhibition, a silent sympathy reigned throughout the
spectators. Every face beamed with satisfaction. A tear was seen
trembling in the eyes of many present. After a momentary pause, the hall
rang with acclamations. Elegant women pressed forward in the crowd, to
present some little token of their delighted feelings to the children
protected by this institution. It was a spectacle, in which genius was
observed assisting humanity, and nature in a suffusion of gratitude,
weeping over the hallowed and propitious endeavours of the good, the
generous, and the enlightened. Well might the elegant and eloquent
Kotzebue select from such a spot, a subject for his pathetic pen, and
give to the british Roscius of the present day[12], the power of
enriching its drama, by a fresh display of his unrivalled abilities. The
exhibition of the Deaf and Dumb will never be eradicated from my mind.
The tears which were shed on that day, seemed almost sufficient to wipe
away the recollection of those times, in which misery experienced no
mitigation; when every one trembling for himself, had no unabsorbed
sensation of consoling pity to bestow upon the unfortunate. Those times
are gone--May their absence be eternal! This institution is made
serviceable to the state. A pupil of the College is one of the chief
clerks of the national lottery office, in which he distinguishes himself
by his talents, his calculation, and upright deportment.
[12] Mr. Kemble brought out the pathetic play of Deaf and Dumb, in which
he sustains the character of the abbé de l'Epée with admirable effect.
Whilst the subject is before me, I beg leave to mention a curious
circumstance which was related by a very ingenious and honourable man,
in a party where I happened to be present, to prove the truth and
agreement of nature, in her association of ideas. A blind man was asked
by him, to what sound he resembled the sensation produced by touching a
piece of red cloth, he immediately replied, to the sound of a trumpet. A
pupil of the College of the Deaf and Dumb, who could faintly hear a loud
noise, if applied close to his ear, was asked, to what colour he could
compare the sound of a trumpet, he said, it always excited in his mind,
the remembrance of scarlet cloth[13]. Two pupils, male and female, of
the same College, who had been placed near cannon, when discharged,
without being susceptible of the sound, were one day taken by their
humane tutor, into a room where the harmonica was playing; a musical
instrument, which is said to have a powerful influence over the nerves.
He asked them by signs, if they felt any sensation. They replied in the
negative. He then placed the hand of the girl upon the instrument,
whilst it was playing, and repeated the question, she answered, that she
felt a new pleasure enter the ends of her fingers, pass up her arms, and
penetrate her heart.
[13] The first experiment is well known. It is also noticed in Locke
upon the Human Understanding.
The same experiment was tried upon her companion, who seemed to be
sensible of similar sensations of delight, but less acutely felt.
The emotions of sympathy are, perhaps, more forcibly excited by music
than by any other cause. An illustrious example of its effect is
introduced into Boerhaave's academical lectures on the diseases of the
nerves, published by Van Eems. Theodosius the Great, by levying an
excessive tribute, inflamed the minds of the people of Antioch against
him, who prostrated his statues, and slew his ambassadors.
Upon coolly reflecting on what they had done, and remembering the stern
and ruthless nature of their sovereign, they sent deputies to implore
his clemency and forgiveness. The tyrant received them, without making
any reply. His chief minister lamenting the condition of these unhappy
people, resolved upon an expedient to move the soul of his offended
prince to mercy. He accordingly instructed the youths whose office it
was to entertain the emperor with music during dinner, to perform an
affecting and pathetic piece of music, composed for the purpose. The
plaintive sounds soon began to operate. The emperor, unconscious of the
cause, bedewed his cup with tears, and when the singers artfully
proceeded to describe the sufferings of the people of Antioch, their
imperial master could no longer contain himself, but, moved by their
pathos, although unaccustomed to forgive, revoked his vengeance, and
restored the terrified offenders to his royal favour.
Madame E----, who is considered the first dilettante mistress of music
in Paris, related to me, an experiment which she once tried upon a young
woman who was totally deaf and dumb. Madame E---- fastened a silk thread
about her mouth, and rested the other end upon her piano forte, upon
which she played a pathetic air. Her visitor soon appeared much
affected, and at length burst into tears. When she recovered, she wrote
down upon a piece of paper, that she had experienced a delight, which
she could not express, and that it had forced her to weep.
I must reluctantly retire from this pleasing subject, by wishing that
the abbé may long enjoy a series of blissful years, and that his noble
endeavours, "manifesting the enlightened times in which we live," may
meet with that philanthropic success, which, to _his_ generous mind,
will be its most desired reward _here_; assured, as he is, of being
crowned with those unfading remunerations which are promised to the good
_hereafter_.
[Illustration: _Bagatelle in the Bois de Boulogne._]
I one day dined at Bagatelle, which is about four miles from Paris, in
the Bois du Bologne, the parisian Hyde Park, in which the fashionable
equestrian, upon his norman hunter,
--------------------------"with heel insidiously aside,
Provokes the canter which he seems to chide."
The duellist also, in the covert windings of this vast wood, seeks
reparation for the trifling wrong, and bleeds himself, or slaughters his
antagonist. Bagatelle was formerly the elegant little palace of the
count d'Artois. The gardens and grounds belonging to it, are beautifully
disposed. What a contrast to the gloomy shades of Holyrood House, in
which the royal fugitive, and his wretched followers, have found an
asylum!
The building and gardens are in the taste of the Petit Trianon, but
inferior to it. As usual, it is the residence of cooks, and scullions,
tenants of the government, who treat their visitors with good dinners,
and excellent wine, and take good care to make them pay handsomely for
their faultless fare.
Returning to my hotel rather late at night, I passed through the Champs
Elisees, which, at this hour, seemed to be in all its glory. Every
"alley green," was filled with whispering lovers. On all sides the
sounds of festivity, of music, and dancing, regaled the ear. The weather
was very sultry, and being a little fatigued with rather a long walk, I
entered through a trellis palisade into a capacious pavilion, where I
refreshed myself with lemonade.
Here I found a large bourgeois party enjoying themselves, after the
labours of the day, with the waltz, and their favourite beverage,
lemonade. A stranger is always surprised at beholding the grace, and
activity, which even the lowest orders of people in France, display in
dancing. Whiskered corporals, in thick dirty boots, and young tradesmen,
in long great coats, led off their respective femmes de chambre and
grisettes, with an elegance, which is not to be surpassed in the
jewelled birth night ball room. Nothing could exceed the sprightly
carelessness, and gay indifference which reigned throughout. The music
in this place, as in every other of a similar description, was
excellent.
The french police, notwithstanding the invidious rumours which have been
circulated to its prejudice, is the constant subject of admiration with
every candid foreigner, who is enabled under the shelter of its
protection, to perambulate in safety every part of Paris, and its
suburbs, although badly lighted, at that hour of the night, which in
England, seldom fails to expose the unwary wanderer to the pistol of the
prowling ruffian. An enlightened friend of mine, very shrewdly observed,
that the english police seems to direct its powers, and consideration
more to the apprehension of the robber, than to the prevention of the
robbery. In no country is the _art_ of thief catching carried higher,
than in England. In France, the police is in the highest state of
respectability, and unites force to vigilance. The depredator who is
fortunate enough to escape the former, is seldom able to elude the
latter.
The grand National Library of Paris, is highly deserving of a visit, and
is considered to be the first of its kind in Europe. In one of the rooms
is a museum of antiques. The whole is about to be removed to the old
palace. In one of the wings of this noble collection, are the two
celebrated great globes, which rest upon the ground, and rise through
the flooring of the first story, where there is a railing round them.
These globes I should suppose to be about eighteen feet high.
From the Grand National Library, I went with a party to the military
review of all the regiments in Paris, and its suburbs by the first
consul, in the Place de Carousel, within the gates, and railing which he
has raised for this purpose. We were introduced into the apartments of
general Duroc, the governor of the palace, which were upon the ground
floor of the Thuilleries, and which afforded us an uninterrupted view of
the whole of this superb military spectacle. A little before twelve
o'clock, all the regiments of horse and foot, amounting to about 7000
men, had formed the line, when the consular regiment entered, preceded
by their fine band, and the tambour major, who was dressed in great
magnificence. This man is remarked in Paris for his symmetry and manly
beauty. The cream-coloured charger of Bonaparte, upon which, "labouring
for destiny, he has often made dreadful way in the field of battle,"
next passed us, led by grooms in splendid liveries of green and gold, to
the grand entrance. As the clock struck twelve, the first consul,
surrounded by a chosen body of the consular guard, appeared and mounted.
He immediately rode off in full speed, to the gate nearest to the
gallery of the Louvre, followed by his favourite generals, superbly
attired, mounted upon chargers very richly caparisoned. My eye, aided by
a good opera-glass, was fixed upon the first consul. I beheld before me
a man whose renown is sounded through the remotest regions of the earth,
and whose exploits have been united by the worshippers of favoured
heroism to the conqueror of Darius. His features are small and meagre.
His countenance is melancholy, cold and desperate. His nose is aquiline.
His eyes are dark, fiery, and full of genius. His hair, which he wears
cropped and without powder, is black. His figure is small, but very
muscular. He wore a blue coat, with broad white facings and golden
epaulets (the uniform of his regiment) a small cocked hat, in which was
a little national cockade. In his hand he carried a small riding whip.
His boots were made in the fashion of english riding boots, which I have
before condemned on account of their being destitute of military
appearance. The reason why they are preferred by the french officers is
on account of the top leather not soiling the knees of the pantaloons
when in the act of putting one leg over the other. Bonaparte rode
through the lines. His beautiful charger seemed conscious of the glory
of his rider, and bore him through the ranks with a commanding and
majestic pace. The colours of one of the regiments was stationed close
under the window, where I had the good fortune of being placed. Here the
hero stopped, and saluted them. At this time I was close to him, and had
the pleasure of completely gratifying that curiosity of beholding the
persons of distinguished men, which is so natural to all of us.
A few minutes after Bonaparte had passed, I saw a procession, the
history of which I did not understand at the time, but which fully
explained its general purport. About two years since, one of the
regiments of artillery revolted in battle. Bonaparte in anger deprived
them of their colours, and suspended them, covered with crape, amongst
the captive banners of the enemy, in the Hall of Victory. The regiment,
affected by the disgrace, were determined to recover the lost esteem of
their general and their country, or perish to the last man. When any
desperate enterprise was to be performed, they volunteered their
services, and by this magnanimous compunction covered their shame with
laurels, and became the boast and pride of the republican legions. This
day was fixed upon for the restoration of their ensigns. They were
marched up under a guard of honour, and presented to the first consul,
who took the black drapery from their staves, tore it in pieces, threw
it on the ground, and drove his charger indignantly over it. The
regenerated banners were then restored to the regiment, with a short and
suitable address. I faintly heard this laconic speech, but not
distinctly enough to offer any criticism upon the eloquence of the
speaker. This exhibition had its intended effect, and displayed the
genius of this extraordinary man, who, with unerring acuteness, knows so
well to give to every public occurrence that dramatic hue and interest
which are so gratifying to the minds of the people over whom he
presides. After this ceremony, the several regiments, preceded by their
bands of music, marched before him in open order, and dropped their
colours as they passed. The flying artillery and cavalry left the parade
in full gallop, and made a terrific noise upon the pavement. Each
field-piece was drawn by six horses, upon a carriage with large wheels.
Here the review closed.
"Farewell, the neighing steed, and the shrill trump,
The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife,
The royal banner, and all quality,
Pride, pomp and circumstance of glorious war."
Bonaparte returned to the palace, where he held a splendid levee, at
which the new turkish embassy was introduced.
In the evening I saw Bonaparte and his lady at the opera, where he was
received with respect, but without any clamorous acclamation.
Madame Bonaparte appears to be older than the first consul. She is an
elegant woman, and is said to conduct herself in her high station with
becoming dignity and prudence.