A rough sketch of modern Paris

by J. G. Lemaistre

Paris, January the 16th, 1802 (26 nivôse.)

MY DEAR SIR,

I went to day to see the establishment formed for the protection and instruction of the blind. It is called “l’institution des travaux des aveugles[41],” and is situate in the Fauxbourg St. Antoine, not far from the ci-devant Bastille. It is here, where persons afflicted with that greatest of all human calamities, the loss of sight, are taught the means of gaining a comfortable existence, of occupying hours which would otherwise be painfully tiresome, and of rendering themselves useful to the community.

At the “séance,” or public meeting, which I attended this morning, I saw several persons, men, women, and children, either born blind, or rendered so by illness, now able to read, to write, to count, to print, and to perform on different pieces of instrumental music. The mode by which they read is by feeling the letters, which are purposely raised on card; and they did so with such rapidity, that it was difficult in hearing them to discover their misfortune. What particularly struck me, was the ingenuity of a blind woman, who had taught her child to read, an infant about five years old, not afflicted with this calamity.

There is a manufactory of steel carried on in the building, in which the blind turn the wheel; and they also make whips, writing cases, purses and paper toys of all sorts, which are sold for their private emolument. There is likewise a press, or printing machine, in which the whole process is performed by the blind; and I am told, books published by them are more than commonly correct. The women knit, sew, and perform other kinds of needlework; and all of them either sing, or perform on some instrument. They gave us a kind of concert, which, if not very good, proved at least that they understood the principles or music. I am almost ashamed to mention, that my pleasure in witnessing this truly philanthropic establishment, was not a little diminished by the dreadful countenances of the blind, as the eyes of many, not being closed, exhibited a very disgusting appearance. I knew, indeed, that they were not sensible of this defect, and that I ought to be satisfied with an institution, which, in rendering them both happy and useful, had fully discharged its object. To the truth of this reflection my reason fully assented; yet, malgré moi[42], my senses revolted at the sight of human beings, left so imperfect by the hand of Nature, or so deformed by illness.

In leaving “les aveugles,” we drove to the great plate glass manufactory, which is carried on in the neighbourhood. This celebrated establishment suffered severely during the revolution, but is now daily recovering its former prosperity. Six hundred persons are at present employed, and I saw mirrors preparing of various and extensive dimensions. The operation of pouring quicksilver on glass, by which it obtains its reflecting qualities, was performed before us; and we were much delighted with the rapidity and neatness shown in the process.

As I began this letter with the institution in favour of the blind, I think I cannot do better than to conclude it, by speaking to you again of that of the deaf and dumb. I have, since my first letter on that subject, attended two extraordinary meetings of the “sourd muets,” the result of which I will now give you.

Massieu, the deaf and dumb young man, of whose superiour talents and acquirements I gave you so favourable an account, appeared to great advantage at one of these, in which he received, for the first time, a lesson on “galvanism.” As soon as the abbé Sicard wrote on a slate, “galvanism is a name given to a mode of electricity, in consequence of its having been discovered by Galvani, an Italian physician.” Massieu eagerly snatched the pencil, and wrote, in reply, “I saw the word galvanism in one of the newspapers, and not knowing what it meant, looked for an explanation in the dictionary of the academy. Not finding it there, I concluded that it was taken from a proper name. It then occurred to me, that it was a new medicine, discovered by the individual, whose name it bore; and that, perhaps, by means of this specific, the inventor might cure the deaf and dumb, comme notre seigneur Jesus Christ[43].”

Never shall I forget the animation which brightened the countenance of Massieu, while he rapidly wrote these words, or the curious and anxious attention with which he followed the explanation afterwards given him of galvanism. In the course of the lecture, he showed, by his questions and answers, that he was perfectly conversant with the general principles of electricity; and the ease with which he caught the doctrine of galvanism was truly astonishing. I am sure you will be struck, as I was, at the singularity of his conceiving, that galvanism might lead to the cure of the deaf and dumb. How kindly has Nature implanted in our minds a disposition to cherish hope, even on the slightest foundation! It is this which gives a zest to all our pursuits, which supports us in illness, in affliction, and in sorrow; and no man really ceases to be happy, till he ceases to hope.

I did not know, at the time, what I have since learnt, and which, if true, renders the circumstance still more singular—I mean, that some deaf and dumb persons have been actually restored to the senses of hearing and speaking, by the power of galvanism. This is said to have taken place in some part of Germany, I believe at Vienna; but I only give it as a report.