Angels and Outcasts : An Anthology of Deaf Characters in Literature

The Deaf Mute

The DeafMvtfe by avty de Mavtpassanf EDITORS' PREFACE In this story we encounter another Gerasim. The deafman's name this time is Gargan, and he does not live in quite as pleasant surroundings as does Gerasim, but he, like Gerasim , must kill the one he loves because of the vulturism of his fellows, and accept a life of total isolation afterwards. Gargan, like Gerasim, is silent but extraordinarily noblehis story, though full of pathos, is the story of triumphant human dignity. But what a contrast his story provides to the "frame" in which it exists. In fact, the very point of the story is that contrast, and the sense of irony such as contrast evokes. The "frame" is written by a French aristocrat in a rather offhand, leisurely fashion. He seems to "lean and loaf at his ease" as he writes. He hunts woodcock, reads books, and writes letters to his friends in Paris (the "story" itself, in fact, is supposed to be a letter to a friend in Paris). There is nothing of"human murk" in his writing-it is breezy and light, long on detail, short on feeling. He writes with careless humor ("We take our places in a strange sort ofhunting wagon that my father had constructed long ago. Constructed is the only word that I can use in speaking ofthis monstrous carriage, or rather this earthquake on wheels." "When we are installed, John, my servant, throws us our three terriers, Pif, Paf, and Moustache. Pif belongs to Simon, paf to Gaspard , and Moustache to me. They look like three crocodiles covered with hair. ") All the world is right and orderly to 122 • The Deaf Mute • him-it is the world of the eighteenth century: "whatever is, is right." Here we are then, master Picot and I, in the little woods, where the leaves fall with a sweet and continued murmur, with a dry murmur, a little sad, for they are dead. It is cold, a light cold which stings the eyes, the nose, and the ears, and powders with a fine, white moss the limbs of the trees and the brown, plowed earth. But there is a warmth through all our limbs under the great sheepskin. The sun is gay.... It is good to hunt in the woods on fresh mornings in winter. Could anything ever disturb this man? Does he have the faintest awareness of any misery or pain? He says of the leaves that it is "a little sad, for they are dead." He would probably say the same about the peasants with whom he hunts: it is a little sad, for they are poor. And then he would turn to other thoughts. The irony is that such a man, oblivious to tragedy, should tell the tragic story of Gargan and his wife "Drops." It is a horrible story, full of anguish, violence and wasted lives. It is "real life," far removed from the placid, untroubled life of the idle rich man who narrates the story. At the end, he shows how little he has been affected by the story he himself has told. As for me, my dear friend, I listened to this adventure to its close, much moved, and have related it to you in gross terms in order not to change the farmer's story. But now there is a report of a gun from the woods, and the formidable voice of Gaspard is heard growling in the wind, like the sound of a cannon: "Woodcock! There is one." And this is how I employ my time, watching for the woodcock to pass, while you are also going to the Bois to see the first winter costumes. (emphasis added) He claims to have been "much moved" by the story, but it is obvious this is merely a manner of speaking, for his 123 • The Nineteenth Century • mind immediately turns to other things. His is the mind of the aristocracy as de Maupassant saw it: closed to the misery of the people who make his ease possible. It is out of such contrast that revolution springs. Of interest to us, however, is that de Maupassant chose a deaf man, as had Turgenev, to represent the suppressed masses, the peasant class. What is notable about this is that both Turgenev and de Maupassant apparently realized that the most frustrating thing for a deaf person is not failing to hear, but failing...