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From this period, the history of the art is blended with that of institutions; earlier than this, it is little else than an account of the doings and of the opinions of individual men. Those who desire more particular information on this subject, will find it in the Encyclopedia Americana, Article, Dumb and Deaf, or in the North American Review, for April, 1834. Our present purpose is merely to state, in few words, the views which have been entertained from time to time, regarding methods of instruction, and those which, at the present day, are most extensively approved. In order to do this, it will be convenient to name, and briefly to describe, the principal instruments of communication employed with the deaf, and which constitute the medium through which they receive instruction.

The first of these instruments consists of those signs, by which deaf-mutes, though uneducated, contrive to make themselves understood. It would hardly be possible, on paper, to explain precisely what these signs are; hardly possible, at least without exceeding the limits we propose to ourselves here. Much has been said and written of them, in France especially; and much, that has been said and written, has been in a tone of eulogy so extravagant, and often so contradictory to the plainest teachings of common sense, as to be much better fitted to mystify than to enlighten the mind of the tyro. They have been denominated a natural and universal language, intelligible to all men at sight. And this proposition has been set forth in so strong a light, and in so unqualified a form, as to convey an impression little in accordance with the fact. Very sagacious men have been led to believe in the existence of a natural and universally intelligible language, of which, notwithstanding its natural character, its inherent intelligibility, and the absence of all necessity of learning it, they have grown up in absolute unconsciousness, not to say mere ignorance. No one indeed doubts his own ability to make many gestures, which shall have a meaning for another person: nevertheless, I believe I speak the opinions of common men, when I say, that these are not esteemed to be a language -- or rather the language so highly extolled by writers on the deaf and dumb. Few men are conscious of the power to conduct a connected discourse, without the use of words; and people in general do not recognize as a language, an instrument, which does not confer upon them this ability.

That the writer may not be accused of charging too great extravagance upon the eulogists of the natural language of gestures, let the following sentence from a French writer, be taken as characteristic of the class: "There is not a sentiment of the heart, there is not an idea of the understanding, which is not reflected in this language as in a faithful mirror." The present writer has heard, in conversation, precisely the same assertion, in almost precisely the same words, from more than one instructor of the deaf and dumb. Thus there seems claimed for this language of action, a copiousness and an adaptation to the purposes of communication, equal to those of the comparatively perfect spoken and written languages in use among men. Thus too those who receive their information entirely at second hand, fall naturally into the belief, that through the medium of the sign-language, any idea or combination of ideas, can be expressed, with as much clearness and promptness as by means of words. Allow the sign-language of the schools to be thus potential. It by no means follows that any natural and universally intelligible language is so too; for it is a great mistake to suppose, that the signs which constitute the dialect found in a given institution, are either, as a general rule, natural, or of universal use, or even universally intelligible among the deaf and dumb themselves; much less, then, are they so to others. In proof of this, the writer may appeal to the observation of the great numbers of intelligent persons who have visited our American institutions, and to the testimony of M. Degerando, who says, that having been thirteen years engaged, as a member of the administration of the Royal Institution, during which time he was much in the schools, he had never been able to understand the signs there used at all.

It is well to inquire, therefore, how far the language of gestures is a natural language. Thus far, if it be also universal, it is not, of course, peculiar to the deaf and dumb. It is well, nevertheless, to make the enquiry, because, as will appear in another place, many instructors are disposed rigorously to exclude from their systems, every thing in the form of signs, beyond the first and simplest suggestions of nature.

Not to go into a nice examination of all the successive stages of change, through which the sign-language passes, in proportion as it is cherished and cultivated, it will be sufficient to describe those forms under which it appears interesting to the instructor of the deaf and dumb. These are three in number. The first is the real dialect of nature: the second, that which is the result, to a good degree, of reflection, and is found in its perfection in communities of the deaf and dumb. This is, in great part, an expansion of the former, with an abridgment or reduction of its elements, to a degree in which they cease to be self-explanatory. It is also, to some extent, composed of signs purely conventional.