Concealed in the house of a trusty

OF THE DEAF AND DUMB PARIS.

IN

TWENTY-EIGHT months had the man, whom the Abbe de l'Epee chose for his immediate successor, the celebrated and modest Sicard, been the object of a proscription in which he was undeservedly included.

own life to save a head of such value, Sicard undertook the task to bestrew with flowers the first studies of children, to facilitate their progress, and to render the performance of their duty easier to the fathers of families. In a narrow cell, by the light of a lamp, whose faint glimmer seemed loth to discover the venera

ble traits of the estimable recluse, and to betray his place of refuge, he wrote his Universal Grammar; thus revenging himself of the injustice of men, only by heaping new benefits upon them.

In the meantime the deaf and dumb of every age and sex lamented the absence of their teacher: some times they looked up to the windows of his apartment, and their eyes were bedewed with tears: or they would regard with fixed attention the arm-chair, where Sicard had been wont almost daily to expand their souls, and render them susceptible of the impressions of nature; and of the significant and various gestures that at other times animat*ed their countenances, the expressions of dejection and sorrow alone remained.

One of them in particular, Jean Massieu, the fifth of the same family who enjoyed the instructions of the venerable Sicard, was so affected by the loss of his teacher, that, to pacify him, they were obliged to make him acquainted with his place of refuge. This young man, whose understanding and talents all Paris admires, and who, notwithstanding his weak state of health, had been promoted to the place of repeteur in the school, with a salary of 1200 francs, repeatedly offered to share his small income with Sicard: "My father (said he by means of rapid signs) has nothing: I must provide him with food and clothing, and save him from the cruel fate that oppresses him." He accordingly took the necessary steps with prudence, engaged some of his friends to assist him in putting his generous project into execution, and kept himself in readiness to lay hold of the first favourable opportunity.... At length the ardently wished-for moment arrived. A dramatic poet, whom the enthusiasm of his heart rendered courageous (Bouilly) formed the resolution to interest the public in favour of the successor of the Abbe de l'Epee by producing on the stage a memorable scene from the life of that celebrated founder of the

institution for instructing the deaf and dumb. The undertaking was dangerous, but the motive irresistible. The audience shed tears to the memory of the Abbe de l'Epee ; and whilst his sainted name was repeated, the unfortunate Sicard's likewise resounded. O that from his asylum he could have heard these affecting exclamations of a numerous and respectable assembly, this consoling burst of enthusiasm from a people, which paid homage to virtue, and pleaded the cause of innocence. "Sicard," they exclaimed from every side; "Restore to us Sicard!"

From the emotion that animated every countenance, from the applause that was clapped from every hand, and especially from the indescribable transports of the author (Bouilly), it was easy for Massieu, notwithstanding his deafness and dumbness, to form an idea of the interest which the audience expressed in favour of his preceptor: and he so well contrived matters, that a few days after, he and Bouilly met together at the house of a legislator, who is a friend of men of merit, and of the unfortunate, and where a brother of the chief consul of the French republic happened to be on a visit. Having here, by the affecting answers which he gave to the questions put to him, softened the hearts of a great number of persons to a participation of his feelings; he gave to the brother of the consul a letter which he had written in his presence, and which concluded with the following remarkable words: "Promise, O promise me! that you will speak for us to the chief consul: they say he loves those men who labour for the happiness of others; surely then he must love Sicard, whose sole happiness it is to render the poor deaf and dumb happy!"

This touching language of nature excited the admiration of all present and produced the most lively emotion. Massieu observed this: immediately he flung one arm round the neck of Joseph Bonaparte and the other round Bouilly; and all three

melted into tears. Joseph Bonaparte, who was most affected, pressed the amiable pupil of Sicard to his heart, and requested his worthy friend to signify to him, that he would on the same evening present his letter to the consul, and that he would venture to promise him that it would have the wished for effect.

Massieu's hopes were not disappointed: the consul ordered Sicard's name to be erased from the list of the proscribed; and soon after he was restored to the right of again giving instructions to his pupils.

The 14th of February, 1800, was the day on which this good father appeared again in the midst of his children.

It was about eleven in the morning; already was the hall appropriated for the public exercises of the deaf and dumb, filled with celebrated men; among whom, those in particular were observed who dedicate their talents and labours to the instruction of youth, and to the promotion of the happiness of the human race. In the midst of the hall stood the deaf and dumb pupils of both sexes and different ages: the vivacity of their looks, and the rapidity of their signs, by which they mutually communicated their sentiments, indicated that this day was the happiest of their life.

The friends of the venerable proscript, among whom was likewise the excellent man who had sheltered him from the storm of party-rage, enter the hall in crowds; and a num ber of beautiful ladies embellished the company by the lustre of their charms.

At once a penetrating cry of joy escapes Massieu: every one rises up; a respectful silence reigns throughout the whole assembly;.... Sicard appears....Massieu is already in his arms, his mouth is joined to the mouth of Sicard; his whole soul seems to be transfused into the soul of his preceptor; he takes him by the hand, and conducts him to his chair. Immediately the male pupils rush towards him: the more adult among them surround their

adored master, press him to their hearts, and hold him in their arms; the little ones kiss his hands, cling to his garment, and climb up to his breast and his head: he is covered with the most tender kisses, caressed with the most affecting signs, with the tears of the adults and of the children.

Sicard endeavours to speak, but his emotion deprives him of the power of utterance. He wishes to communicate to each of his pupils what passes in his heart, but all at once fix their eyes upon him, embrace him, caress him;....to extend over them his beneficent hands, to tell by signs that he loves them all with the same paternal affection, that he receives them all into his bosom, is all he has power to do, all that the blissful intoxication of his soul inspires him with.

As however nothing escapes his penetrating glance, he now observed that his female pupils, restrained by the bashfulness peculiar to their sex, venture not wholly to give way to the emotion which eradicates from their eye, and glows in every feature of their expressive countenances; affected by this struggle of modesty and sentiment, he goes towards them, stops for a moment, then stretches out his arms, and receives their caresses with a tone that scems to say "Should a father blush to embrace his children?”

Whilst these bashful maidens are expressing to their teacher the joy which his return occasions them, the boys who have made the greatest progress approach the table, and delineate with letters of fire, and the rapidity of lightning, the emotions which animate them. One of them thanks the consul and his brother for having restored to them the man from whom they received their moral existence: another describes the anxiety and melancholy with which they were overwhelmed during the absence of their beloved preceptor: a third writes down the sentence, "That virtue and truth sooner or later will triumph over the artifices of the wicked." At last,

Massieu himself appears at the table, and while he presents to the eyes of the admiring spectators the profoundest truths of the physical and moral sciences, a blooming maiden places on the head of Sicard a wreath of poppies and heliotropes, emblems of the sadness of his pupils during his absence, and of the immortality with which his genius, his patience, his beneficent labours, will be crowned.

EXTRACTS FROM THE CORRESPONDENCE OF AN AMERICAN

IN FRANCE.

(Continued from page 230)

THE city of Tours, the capital of the ci-devant province of Touraine, lies on the south side of the the river Loire, which is the largest river in France, and navigable for several hundred miles.

There is here a magnificent stone bridge over the Loire, of which one of the arches was purposely destroyed during the Vendee war, to prevent the rebels from crossing the river, and marching towards Paris. Tours is entirely built of hewn stone, and its main street is one of the finest in Europe. It is called, in compliment to the army, Rue de l'Armee d'Italie. In this street there are but few shops; the houses are mostly private ones, belonging to the proprietors of estates in the neighbouring districts, and to merchants who trade extensively between Nantes and the districts of the Upper Loire.

At

mile in length, constructed in the same manner as that which I described on the Garonne. At the foot of the hills, on the north side of the Loire, is a regular range of soft rock, of about two miles in length.

It is from this quarry above ground, that the city of Tours itself is built. In these rocks, which they have excavated, the villagers have very comfortable habitations, and a

neat town.

The shell and roof of these houses, hollowed from the rock, may last as long as the world itself, and bid defiance to the storms, or the winter's rains. Some of those houses are so covered with vines, that one would not easily know what materials they were made of. The country in the neighbourhood of Tours, for riches and beauty, exceeds all power of description. Touraine has been always deemed the Garden of France; and I believe it may be called with truth the Garden of Europe. Here every varied beauty that cultivation can draw from the richest soil, and happiest climate, is to be found in the utmost luxuriance, while an immense population animates the scene, and gives it an interest, which a mere landscape cannot convey; neither can one or two great demesnes, however dressed in solitary grandeur. The verdure of the English pastures, nor the cattle and the flocks that are to be seen feeding upon them, by no means present a scene so interesting to the heart as these delightful valleys, through which the Loire winds its majestic course: they are covered with the richest productions of nature in European climates; the air breaths fragrance, the climate and the rural beauties of the prospect dispose the mind to tranquillity and harmony, while the never-ceasing sounds of mirth and gaiety proclaim the happiness of their numerous inhabitants. The high road from Tours to Blois keeps close to the river-side the whole of the way, and cannot be surpassed,

or I believe equalled, in Europe for richness of prospect and scenery. I think that every traveller, who wishes to have a complete idea of France, and happens to be in Paris in the summer season, should visit this country, which has long been called the garden of France. A week's excursion from Paris would be sufficient for the purpose; and it surely would be a week well employed. Blois is a large but irregular town, and is neither well-built, nor handsome. As it has long enjoyed the reputation of being the town where the French language is spoken with the greatest purity, I must therefore suppose that many persons of fashion and high education live at Blois, although it cannot be compared with Tours for beauty or attractions. In the centre of the town of Blois there is a very fine palace, which formerly belonged to the bishop; but was, in the time of assignats, sold for a mere trifle to a negotiant. The town of Blois gained but very little by this transfer of property; for, in the bishop's time, the gardens were thrown open to the public for a walk; but the negotiant's first act of ownership was to shut them up, and exclude the public from the liberty of walking

there.

From Blois to Orleans, which is also upon the Loire, the road follows the direction of the river, but in a straighter course. The country is, the wh.cle of the way, rich and beautiful.

Orleans is a large city, possessing a considerable share both of manufactures and commerce.

There are a great number of passage and trading vessels belonging to Orleans, which go regularly to Nantes, which lies at the mouth of the Loire, nearly two hundred miles from Orleans.

There is also a canal near Orleans, by which the Loire is connected with the Seine, and Orleans communicates with Paris. This town is large, and rich enough to support its theatre, and a tolerably good set of actors, for the greatest part of

the year. I mentioned to you in my last, that of all my fellow-travellers from Bourdeaux to Paris, I should only describe one. Common characters, such as are to be seen every day, in every country, are hardly worth describing; but, when a character is met with, whose interest and whose history is derived from the prejudices of the country through which one travels, from the barbarous pride of an order which no longer exists in France; the description of such a character will give something of historical information respecting the manners of the times that are past. About twelve leagues on the south side of Tours, a lady of about twenty-five years of age entered the carriage, with her attendant. She was tall, and well-formed, her features were regular, her eyes large, but vacant. Reason had long quitted its seat; and her soul, having lost its object, had forgotton to animate her countenance, or sparkle in her eyes. Its pulses had almost ceased to beat. Scarcely had she taken her seat. when her talkative attendant informed us....Elle est folle, She is cut of her reason. On inquiring into her story, she told me, that Mademoiselle etoit de la plus haute noblesse; that is, blonged to the highest rank of nobility; that she dared not tell her name; but that her story was, that in her youth she had fallen in love with a neighbouring bourgeois, who was young, rich, and handsome, and equally in love with her; but, that as it was impossible for her parents de la plus haute noblesse to consent that their daughter should marry a bourgeois, whatever qualifications he might have, the consequence was, that the young lady grew deranged, had been seven years in the condition I then saw her, and no hopes were entertained of her recovery. Such was the melancholy effects I have witnessed with my own eyes, of the distinctions that once subsisted between la plus haute noblesse, and la bourgeoisie....Who is it that would wish to revive such distinctions?