The Friend. A Religious and Literary Journal. 1841, July 31
For “The Friend.”
THE VERMONT MUTE.
It may be recollected by the readers of “The Friend,” that a little girl, a native of Vermont, like Laura Bridgman, deaf, dumb and blind, was, about six months ago, taken into the Perkins' Institute, at Boston, by Dr. Howe, with the intention of educating her, if practicable. She was then a most unpromising subject, her intellectual powers appearing to be quite dormant, while her unamiable propensities were in full activity. So bent was she on doing mischief to all who approached her, that it was exceedingly difficult to hold any intercourse with her, and the worthy doctor in his efforts to soothe her turbulent nature, even found it expedient to protect his face with a mask. Perseverance, guided by benevolence, and a happy art which the doctor possesses of winning the affections of those placed under his care, have at length been attended with success; the unruly spirit has grown gentle, and the first glimmerings of light are breaking upon the darkness in which it has hitherto been enveloped.
The following account of her progress is from the pen of Dr. Howe. Some farther particulars promised by him to his correspondent will be looked for with much interest.
“I am happy to tell you, that after nearly six months apparently vain efforts, we have at last opened the means of communication with the mind of an unfortunate deaf and blind girl from Vermont.
“You know that she was very wild—almost savage when she was brought here, and that she wore her head in a bag. For a long time she not only was sullen and unsocial, but she furiously repulsed all attempts to teach her, and would not submit to any endearments. So intractable was she that I feared she might be insane. When she grew more docile, she submitted indeed to the attempts to teach her arbitrary signs, but was entirely passive, and utterly unconscious of the process to which she submitted. Her mind, entirely unused to reflection, seemed enshrouded in darkness and stillness, as profound as that of the tomb, and only at times manifested mute amazement; but at last it seemed to seize upon the clue which was offered to it, and by that clue is now guiding itself out into the light.
“She is now manifestly aware of the nature of the process to which she is subjected; her countenance is alive with a human expression; she comprehends the signs and names of several things, and begins to ask for more. The most delightful part of it is, that little Laura is a most ardent and useful coadjutor in the work of enlightening Lucy.”
