Laurent Clerc as an old man. What was he like? Well, we are lucky for the existance of Louis C. Tuck, homesick student at the Hartford Asylum in 1862. Since Lewis was struggling he came to the attention of his teacher, Laurent's daughter, Elizabeth Beers, my great, great, great grandmother. Elizabeth appears to have taken pity on Louis and helped him adjust to being away at home by bringing him home with her after school. There he was able to see Laurent Clerc, for the last years of his life. His recount of his reminiscences of Laurent appeared in a 1871 issue of the Silent World. Interesting enough, it seems that Lewis' article on Laurent appears in the very first issue of this new Deaf newspaper/journal.
Louis writes:
"I had never been away from home until I went to the Institution for the Deaf and Dumb, at Hartford, and I was very lonely and homesick at first. I was placed in Mrs. Beers’ class to learn signs. One day when I was thoroughly miserable she took me home to tea with her after school; she was then living with her father, Laurent Clerc, and as this was but the first of many visits I saw him often.
Here is Elizabeth Clerc Beers who are referenced in Lewis' letter to the paper. What is interesting is that it tells us for the first time that Elizabeth was either working or had returned to work as a teacher at the Asylum. It tells us that she was an ASL signer. Here is a photo of Elizabeth in 1862.
It was about four years after (1862) he had given up teaching (1858), and he was quite an old man. I can see him now with my mind’s eye, an old white-haired man, with a face somewhat scarred, and unattractive to a child; he stooped slightly when walking, and his gait was a sort of slow, staggering shuggle; still he did not seem so very old. I remember I stood in great awe of him, though, looking back now, I cannot see that I had any cause to feel so, for he took little notice of me. He was fond of sitting alone in the dining-room at a window that looked out on the Institution grounds; sometimes he read - almost always a paper, less frequently a book, and very often he would sit still thinking and dozing. Once I had the curiosity to look at his paper, or, perhaps, he called me to his side and showed it to me; it was a french paper, and, as I could not understand it, he, of course, rose several degrees in my estimation, and the awe, with which I had before regarded him, was greatly enhanced.
There were several trees in his garden bearing small sweet pears, of which I was very fond; he used to give me these pears, and, when I had eaten all I could, he would bid me put in my pockets what were left in the dish. I do not think he approved very well of his daughter’s petting me, for I recollect he said one day that what I had to endure was nothing compared with what the poor soldiers who had gone to the war had to bare, (this was in 1862); he added that I must think of their hardships when I felt discontented and homesick, and it would make me more satised with my own lot. It seemed to distress him to see me make any sign wrong, or in a clumsy manner. I remember well how I once met him in the street in a great hurry, and told him my mother was visiting me. I was going to run right by, but he stopped me, and made me repeat what I had said, and then corrected one or two faults, nor would he let me go until I had made every sign to his satisfaction.
Here is a drawing of the view from the top of the Hartford Asylum in 1849. Somewhere down there could be the pear trees outside his dinning room that Laurent so loved.
He was always interested in what was going on about him, and in what was being said. If he did not understand, or if oral conversation was being carried on, he would keep calling on his daughter, or on one of her children, to explain or translate for him. It mortified him very much to make a mistake, or to seem to make one, even though it was no fault of his.
It also helps us understand who of the Clerc prodigy used ASL. We learn that Charlotte and her brother, Henry (seen here with Laurent some years earlier) were interpreters for Laurent late in life. We are not sure if proficiency in ASL went beyond Laurent's grandchildren but we know that there are no ASL signers in the family today. What a shame.
Sometimes he would come to the Institution in the evening to take charge of the boys’ study-room. He was very much respected by the pupils generally, and most of them stood too much in awe of him to be otherwise than quiet and well behaved when he was in charge; but on one occasion one of the boys was so disrespectful as to throw a small nail at him; it struck his forehead, and I shall never forget how he appeared as he looked round. and, after rubbing the place a little, remarked: “It was wicked of you to throw that nail at me, “ and went quickly to his seat. The other boys, however, made up for his lack of resentment by being very indignant.
He had a high opinion of the first Napoleon, and used to say: “It was mean in England to send him to St. Helena;” and for him there was no country like “La Belle France "; he sometimes made comparisons between the two countries by no means attering to our own land. Another decidedly French characteristic of his was a fondness for frogs; he would pay the boys a small sum for every pair of frog’s legs they brought him, and some of them drove quite a thriving business, spending their spare time hunting frogs for him.
He had a habit of shutting his eyes when speaking. Some of the more thoughtless of his audience would occasionally take advantage of this habit to laugh and play while his eyes were closed, although they seemed all attention when he looked in their direction. He would frequently astonish such oenders by calling them by name, and sharply reproving them for their disrespectful inattention. It was always a great mystery to them how he knew who were misbehaving when his eyes were shut. His eyesight was so good that he was accustomed, when unable to make use of signs, to communicate with his friends by reading what they wrote in the air with their ngers. I have been told he was able to carry on quite long conversations in this way.
He had a somewhat peculiar way of teaching faithfulness. He would speak of the r–annes of eye-service, and urge his pupils to be faithful whether under the eyes of their superiors or not. The next time he had occasion to leave them to themselves during study or school hours, he would go to some place where, without being seen himself, he would see how they were conducting themselves. And then woe to anyone who had taken advantage of his absence to indulge in any unwanted freedom. He would have reason to think himself well o if he escaped with only a sound scolding.
In short, he was a simple hearted, kind old man, living peacefully and happily the last years of a long and useful life, which had been almost wholly devoted to the amelioration of his fellow-mutes.
L.C.T.
About The Author
Louis C. Tuck (1851-1949) was a graduate of the American School for the Deaf in Connecticut from 1862 to 1866, where he studied under Laurent Clerc. He lost his hearing at 9 years old; was an 11 year-old boy when he came to ASD. He was a graduate of the National Deaf-Mute College (later renamed Gallaudet College) in 1870. After graduating from Gallaudet, he worked for E.M. Gallaudet
He was a teacher in Missouri and then the librarian at the Minnesota School for the Deaf from 1882-1922. He was then superintendent of the Oregon School, and nally at the MN School as librarian until 1933. He is shown standing in front of his house in Faribault, which is believed to have been on Fifth Street and was one block from the campus of the Minnesota School for the Deaf. He died in 1949 at age 98. The American school for the Deaf has a photo of him just before he died being presented with his diploma.
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