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That the notions of every individual should attain, without instruction, the same degree of distinctness, is not to be supposed. Much depends upon the early situation of the dumb, within the family or social circle. Some are indeed alone in the world, neglected and despised by all around them; others are regarded as objects of high interest, not only by their connexions, but also by all the intelligent and the humane in their vicinity. These latter partake, in some degree, the blessings of social intercourse, and experience its beneficial effects in the multiplication of their ideas, and the expansion of their minds. Hence may arise a diversity almost infinite. Cases may, doubtless, occur, in which the mental faculties will remain buried in a deathlike slumber for years. If, as the Abbé de l'Epée asserts, 'some parents, holding themselves disgraced by the birth of a deaf child, confine it in a cloister,' what can we expect of such a being, but that he should strictly correspond to Sicard's description, -- that he should, in fact, remain for life 'a living automaton, a walking statue?

Two things seem to be necessary to intellectual development, viz. the observation of objects, actions, facts and phenomena, and the intercourse of mind with mind. If neither of these conditions exist, the human being remains a mere animal. To the truth of this position, we have the melancholy testimony of experiment, in the case of the injured Caspar Hauser. If either exist singly, the expansion of the mind will proceed but slowly. Thus, we shall deceive ourselves, if, from the absence or the obtuseness of the moral sense, in the case of a dumb person who has, all his life, been treated like a brute, and has, therefore, been dependent almost wholly upon observation and solitary reflection for the ideas he possesses, we hastily infer a similar deficiency in all his companions in misfortune.

The view here taken of this question, is far from having received the unanimous suffrage of those, who have published their opinions regarding it to the world. The Abbé Montaigne, a French ecclesiastic, formerly connected with the school at Paris in the capacity of chaplain, has endeavored to establish a contrary position; as well by argument, as by collecting the testimony of eminent teachers. (10) The Abbé seems fully to have entered into the views of his favorite author, M. De Bonald, 'that language is the necessary instrument of every intellectual operation, and the means of every moral existence;' and that, 'to consider moral notions, words are indispensable.' The conclusions of such a writer need not be detailed. They are discoverable in his premises.

The particular reference of the Abbe Montaigne's inquiry is to the subject of Religion. In this respect, his views are not widely different from our own. But when, in his argument, he includes the whole field of morals, we are compelled to enter our dissent. And when, in his array of testimony, he cites the names of Sicard, Bebian, and Berthier, we are forced to believe, that excess of zeal has blinded him, either to the meaning of language, or to the exercise of candor. We have already cited the explicit recantation, made by the first of these men, of his early views. The second affords us so many instances of opposition to the positions of Montaigne, that it is hardly worth our while to quote. The opinion of the third, being that of one dumb from birth, deserves attention, and we accordingly give it a place. It relates to the religious notions of the deaf and dumb. 'It is possible,' he says, 'that some deaf and dumb persons may attribute certain effects, as storms, wind and hail, to a certain cause; and may figure to themselves one or more extraordinary beings commanding the rain, the lightning and other natural phenomena; but a deaf and dumb person, without instruction, will never have a notion, even vague and confused, of a superior existence, whom it is his duty to love, revere and obey, and to whom he must give an account of his thoughts, and of his actions.' Such is our own belief. We are acquainted with no instance of a deaf and dumb person, who has arrived, without instruction, at the idea of a God. Nor can we believe with Degerando, that a mind possessing so few resources, can ever attain, by its unaided reflections, to a notion of a supreme power, possessing a right to our worship and gratitude. Yet we are very far from believing language, whether written or spoken, necessary to communicate this notion; and we know, in fact, that, in all our American Institutions, religious knowledge is, to a great extent, imparted to the pupils, through the medium of signs of action, long before words are available to them as an instrument of communication.

From this sketch of the natural condition of the deaf and dumb, we pass to consider the means, by which they may be relieved. The first essential to all instruction is, evidently, that a medium of reciprocal communication shall exist between the instructor and the instructed. To the former, we suppose pantomime a novel language. He is incapable of holding a connected conversation with his pupil; for he can neither understand nor can he make himself understood. The parties must, therefore, for the time, change places. The first requisite to his own instruction, must be supplied by the pupil himself. He must give lessons, and the master must become the learner.