Observations placeholder

Incidents in My Life – D D Home

On the 19th March, 1857, when I was residing at 13 Rue des Champs Elysees, I received a letter from a stranger to me, Madame A. de Cardonne, of 233 Rue St. Dominique, St. Germain, stating that she had had a dream, in which she had seen her own mother and mine, and that the latter had told her to seek me at once, in order that her son, who had been deaf for four years from the effects of typhoid fever, might be cured. This was so strongly impressed upon her mind that she wrote to me to say that she would call upon me with her son, the following morning at ten.

Accordingly, the next morning she presented herself with her son at my rooms, there being present the Princess de B. (Princess de Beauveau), and Miss E. (Miss Ellice), who were with me previous to my leaving Paris that very day, to proceed on my voyage to America. I had been so overwhelmed by persons wishing to see me that I had uniformly refused such visits; but on this occasion I had been so much preoccupied by my engagements in preparing for my voyage, that I had not been able to acknowledge her letter. I therefore received her with considerable embarrassment, which was fully reciprocated on her part.

It was indeed an embarrassing meeting for both of us, the mother yearning for her son's recovery, and I not knowing how I was expected to be instrumental in healing this long total deafness, the more so that operations had been performed on the boy, as I afterwards found, by eminent surgeons of Paris, who had said that it was impossible he should ever be restored to hearing.

She sat down on a chair near a sofa, I taking a seat on the sofa and beckoning the son to be seated on my left. He was in his fifteenth year, tall for his age, of a delicate complexion, with large dreamy blue eyes that looked as if they would supply the place of hearing with their deep, thoughtful inquiring gaze. The mother began her description of the boy's illness, commencing with the attack of the fever, and ending in the entire loss of hearing.

During the recital, told with all the warmth and tenderness of a mother's heart, and describing the various surgical operations to which he had been subjected, my sympathies were deeply moved, and I had unwittingly thrown my left arm about the boy and drawn him towards me, so that the boy's head rested upon my shoulder.

Whilst in this position, and as Madame de Cardonne was telling some of the most painful particulars, I passed my hand caressingly over the boy's head, upon which he, partly lifting his head, suddenly exclaimed in a voice trembling with emotion, 'Maman, je t'entends!' (Mamma, I hear you!).  The mother fixed on him a look of astonishment, and said, 'Emile!' (the boy's name); and he at once replied, 'Quoi?' (What?). She then, seeing that the child had heard her question, fainted with emotion; and on her recovery the scene was a most thrilling one, the poor mother asking continually questions for the mere pleasure of hearing her child reply. The boy was able to resume his studies, and has continued to hear perfectly up to the present time [1863].