Mrs. Sigourney of Hartford: Poems and Prose on the Early American Deaf Community

“La Petite Sourde-Muette” (1848)

Deaf Hartford 113 mother!’ When I was taken to my grandmother’s house, I could no longer visit the grave, and it grieved me; for I believed if I continued to go and cry there, she would at length hear me and come up.” “I know that more pains were taken to instil religious principles into your mind, than are commonly bestowed upon the deaf and dumb. Will you tell me what was your opinion of the Supreme Being?” “My kind grandmother laboured without ceasing, to impress me with reverence for the Almighty. Through her efforts I obtained some idea of the power and goodness which are visible in the creation; but of Him, who wrought in the storm and in the sunshine, I was doubtful whether it were a strong man, a huge animal, or a vast machine. I was in all the ignorance of heathen sin, until by patient attendance on your judicious course of instruction, knowledge entered into my soul.” He then expressed to his teacher, the gratitude he felt for the blessings of education, and affectionately wishing him a good night, retired to his repose. “La Petite Sourde-Muette” (1848) This poem was published twice in the same year, 1848, under different titles: in the American Annals of the Deaf and Dumb, it is given with its French title, while in The Friend: A Religious and Literary Journal, the title is rendered in English as “The Little Deaf Mute.” Why Sigourney should give the poem a French title in a publication for teachers of the deaf is anyone’s guess, but the English translation unfortunately obscures the feminine gender of the French noun phrase, which might better be translated “The Little Deaf-Mute Girl.” The other poem with a French title reprinted in this volume, “Les Sourds Muets se trouvent-ils malheureux?,” purports to have been inspired by a question asked in Paris, but no motivation for the French title is discernible here. This poem presents many of the expected sentimentalist tropes, including that enduring figure, the hearing mother whose biggest problem is that she will never hear her child say “Mother.” There is no indication that the subject of the poem is Alice Cogswell or any other particular deaf child Sigourney knew, but the depiction of the mother’s thoughts and emotions is not commonly seen in Sigourney Main Pgs 1-162.indd 113 4/4/2013 12:35:32 PM 114 Part 2 Sigourney’s writings about Alice Cogswell, whose mother normally recedes into the dim background. Sigourney renders the usual closing stanzas about the deaf child being able to look forward to hearing in heaven in the usual imagery of the sealed and chained ear, and the “rapture” at the first sounds being “From the full choir of Heaven.” This text is taken from the poem’s publication in the American Annals of the Deaf and Dumb 1 (1848, 157). It also appeared twice in The Silent Worker: under the title “La Sourde-Muette” in 1891 and, later, under the full French title in 1899. • La Petite Sourde-Muette [1] Child of the speaking eye,— Child of the voiceless tongue,— Around whose unresponsive ear No harp of earth is rung;— [2] There’s one, whose nursing care Relax’d not night or day, Yet ne’er hath heard one lisping word Her tenderness repay; [3] Though anxiously she strove Each uncouth tone to frame,— Still vainly listening through her tears To catch a Mother’s name. [4] Child of the fettered ear, Whose hermit-mind must dwell ’Mid all the harmonies of earth Lone, in its guarded cell; Sigourney Main Pgs 1-162.indd 114 4/4/2013 12:35:32 PM Deaf Hartford 115 [5] Fair, budding thoughts are thine, With sweet affections wove,— And whispering angels cheer thy dreams With minstrelsy of love;— [6] I know it by the smile That o’er thy peaceful sleep Glides, like the rosy beam of morn To tint the misty deep. [7] Child of the pensive brow,— Search for those jewels rare That glow in Heaven’s withholding hand, To cheer thy lot of care; [8] Hermetically seal’d To sounds of woe and crime, That vex and stain the pilgrim-soul Amid the snares of time; [9] By discipline made wise, Pass patient on thy way, And when rich music loads the air, Bow down thy head, and pray. [10] Child...