I. The language of gestures, first systematized and applied to the conveying of ideas to the deaf by the Abbe de l'Epee during the latter part of the last century, has been, in America, so developed and improved upon by Gallaudet, Peet, and their successors, as to leave but little else to be desired for the purpose for which it was intended. The rapidity and ease with which ideas can be expressed and understood by this "language" will never cease to be interesting and wonderful, and its value to the deaf can never fail of being appreciated by those familiar with it. But the genius of the language of signs is such as to be in itself of very little, if any, direct assistance in the acquisition of syntactical language, owing to the diversity in the order of construction existing between the English language and the language of signs. Sundry attempts have been made to enforce upon the sign-language conformity to the English order, but they have, in all cases known to the writer, been attended with failure. The sign-language is as immovable as the English order, and in this instance certainly Mahomet and the mountain will never know what it is to be in each other's embrace. School exercises in language composition are given with great success upon the basis of the sign-language. But in all such exercises there must be a translation from one language to the other. The desideratum still exists of an increased percentage of pupils leaving our schools for the deaf, possessing a facility of expression in English vernacular. This want has been long felt, and endeavoring to find a reason for the confessedly low percentage, the sign-language has been too often unjustly accused. It is only when the sign-language is abused that its merit as a means of instruction degenerates. The most ardent admirers of a proper use of signs are free to admit that any excessive use by the pupils, which takes away all opportunities to express themselves in English, is detrimental to rapid progress in English expression.
II. To the general public, dactylology or finger spelling is the sign-language, or the basis of that language, but to the profession there is no relation between the two methods of communication. Dactylology has the advantage of putting language before the eye in conformity with English syntax, and it has always held its place as one of the elements of the American or eclectic method. This advantage, however, is not of so great importance as to outweigh the disadvantages when, as has honestly been attempted, it asserts its independence of other methods. Very few persons indeed, even after long practice, become sufficiently skillful in spelling on the fingers to approximate the rapidity of speech. But were it possible for all to become rapid spellers, another very important requisite is necessary before the system could be a perfect one, that is, the ability to read rapid spelling. The number of persons capable of reading the fingers beyond a moderate degree of rapidity is still less than the number able to spell rapidly. While it is physically possible to follow rapid spelling for twenty or thirty minutes, it can scarcely be followed longer than that. So long as this is true, dactylology can hardly claim to be more than one of the elements of a system of instruction for the deaf.
III. Articulate speech is another of the elements of the eclectic method, employed with success inversely commensurate with the degree of deficiency arising from deafness. Where the English order is already fixed in his mind, and he has at an early period of life habitually used it, there is comparatively little difficulty in instructing the deaf child by speech, especially if he have a quick eye and bright intellect. But the number so favored is a small percentage of the great body of deaf-mutes whom we are called upon to educate. When it is used as a sole means of educating the deaf as a class its inability to stand alone is as painfully evident as that of any of the other component parts of the system. It would seem even less practicable than a sole reliance upon dactylology would be, for there can be no doubt as to what a word is if spelled slowly enough, and if its meaning has been learned. This cannot be said of speech. Between many words there is not, when uttered, the slightest visible distinction. Between a greater number of others the distinction is so slight as to cause an exceedingly nervous hesitation before a guess can be given. Too great an imposition is put upon the eye to expect it to follow unaided the extremely circumscribed gestures of the organs of speech visible in ordinary speaking. The ear is perfection as an interpreter of speech to the brain. It cannot correctly be said that it is more than perfection. It is known that the ear, in the interpretation of vocal sounds, is capable of distinguishing as many as thirty-five sounds per second (and oftentimes more), and to follow a speaker speaking at the rate of more than two hundred words per minute. If this be perfection, can we expect the eye of ordinary mortal to reach it? Is there wonder that the task is a discouraging one for the deaf child?
But it has been asserted that while a large percentage (practically all) of the deaf can, by a great amount of painstaking and practice, become speech readers in some small degree, a relative degree of facility in articulation is not nearly so attainable. As to the accuracy of this view, the writer cannot venture an opinion. Judging from the average congenital deaf-mute who has had special instruction in speech, it can safely be asserted that their speech is laborious, and far, very far, from being accurate enough for practical use beyond a limited number of common expressions. This being the case, it is not surprising that as an unaided means of instruction it cannot be a success, for English neither understood when spoken, nor spoken by the pupil, cannot but remain a foreign language, requiring to pass through some other form of translation before it becomes intelligible.
There are the same obstacles in the use of the written or printed word as have been mentioned in connection with dactylology, namely, lack of rapidity in conveying impressions through the medium of the English sentence.
I have thus hastily reviewed the several means which teachers generally are employing to impart the use of English to deaf pupils, for the purpose of showing a common difficulty. The many virtues of each have been left unnoticed, as of no pertinence to this article.
The device suggested at the beginning of this paper, claiming to be nothing more than a school room appliance intended to supplement the existing means for giving a knowledge and practice of English to the deaf, employs as its interpreter a different sense from the one universally used. The sense of sight is the sole dependence of the deaf child. Signs, dactylology, speech reading, and the written and printed word are all dependent upon the eye for their value as educational instruments. It is evident that of the two senses, sight and touch, if but one could be employed, the choice of sight as the one best adapted for the greatest number of purposes is an intelligent one; but, as the choice is not limited, the question arises whether, in recognizing the superior adaptability to our purpose of the one, we do not lose sight of a possibly important, though secondary, function in the other. If sight were all-sufficient, there would be no need of a combination. But it cannot be maintained that such is the case. The plan by which we acquire our vernacular is of divine, and not of human, origin, and the senses designed for special purposes are not interchangeable without loss. The theory that the loss of a certain sense is nearly, if not quite, compensated for by increased acuteness of the remaining ones has been exploded. Such a theory accuses, in substance, the Maker of creating something needless, and is repugnant to the conceptions we have of the Supreme Being. When one sense is absent, the remaining senses, in order to equalize the loss, have imposed upon them an unusual amount of activity, from which arises skill and dexterity, and by which the loss of the other sense is in some measure alleviated, but not supplied. No additional power is given to the eye after the loss of the sense of hearing other than it might have acquired with the same amount of practice while both faculties were active. The fact, however, that the senses, in performing their proper functions, are not overtaxed, and are therefore, in cases of emergency, capable of being extended so as to perform, in various degrees, additional service, is one of the wise providences of God, and to this fact is due the possibility of whatever of success is attained in the work of educating the deaf, as well as the blind.
In the case of the blind, the sense of touch is called into increased activity by the absence of the lost sense; while in the case of the deaf, sight is asked to do this additional service. A blind person's education is received principally through the two senses of hearing and touch. Neither of these faculties is so sensible to fatigue by excessive use as is the sense of sight, and yet the eye has, in every system of instruction applied to the deaf, been the sole medium. In no case known to the writer, excepting in the celebrated case of Laura Bridgman and a few others laboring under the double affliction of deafness and blindness, has the sense of touch been employed as a means of instruction.[1]
[Footnote 1: This article was written before Professor Bell had made his interesting experiments with his "parents' class" of a touch alphabet, to be used upon the pupil's shoulder in connection with the oral teaching.--E.A.F.]
Not taking into account the large percentage of myopes among the deaf, we believe there are other cogent reasons why, if found practicable, the use of the sense of touch may become an important element in our eclectic system of teaching. We should reckon it of considerable importance if it were ascertained that a portion of the same work now performed by the eye could be accomplished equally as well through feeling, thereby relieving the eye of some of its onerous duties.