had gone to the Observatory Gardens.
That day, they had climbed the spiral stairs inside the Observatory and emerged on the rooftop observation platform. Victor went to the railing to look out and was seized with fright. Itard described it later: “Trembling in every limb and his face covered with sweat, he returned to his governess, whom he dragged by the arm towards the door.”
Now, remembering Victor’s fear of heights, Itard strode to the room’s fourth-story window and threw it open. “With every appearance of anger,” Dr. Itard wrote, he advanced upon Victor, grabbed him by the seat of his pants, and thrust him out the window with his head hanging over the stone courtyard, far below. He let Victor dangle, “his head directly turned towards the bottom of the chasm.”
Then, at last, he pulled Victor back in.
“He was pale, covered with a cold sweat, his eyes were rather tearful, and he still trembled a little,” Dr. Itard wrote later. “I led him to his cards. I made him gather them up and replace them all. . . . Afterwards he went and threw himself on his bed and wept.”
It was the first time Dr. Itard had ever seen him cry.
From then on, when Dr. Itard made Victor do his lessons even when he was tired or it was time to go outside. Victor no longer went into rages. He “contented himself with giving signs of weariness and impatience, and uttering a plaintive murmur which ordinarily ended in tears.”
But after that day, Victor did something that his teacher wrote only a few lines about — he ran away.
Dr. Itard wrote that Victor “escaped” from Madame Guérin on the streets and “shed many tears on seeing her again.” Hours later, his breath still came in gasps and his heart was racing fast.
Another time, he went out wandering on a wide street crowded with carriages, called the rue d’Enfer. Night had fallen before Madame Guérin found him. He recognized her in the dark by the smell of her hands and arms and was so happy he laughed out loud.
E ACH DAY when Victor’s lessons were over, he could go outside with Madame Guerin.
When the hour neared for their trip to the park, he’d drift to the window. He’d hover at the door. When it took Madame Guérin too long to get ready, he’d get her bonnet and shawl and set them in front of her. Sometimes he was so impatient, he’d try to put them on her himself. Then he’d open the door, lifting the latch (by pulling the latch string) himself.
When they went to the gardens that lay around the Paris observatory, Madame Guérin and Victor would often visit the Observatory’s caretaker, who had a house on the grounds.
The man always gave Victor a drink of milk in a china cup. One day by accident, Victor broke the cup. So the next day, all on his own, he brought a little wooden bowl. After that he always brought the bowl in his pocket.
After his milk, he liked to get people to give him rides in a wheelbarrow. He’d find someone in the caretaker’s house, take the person by the arm, lead them to the wheelbarrow, and climb in. If the person didn’t push him right away, he’d get out and roll the wheelbarrow a little way himself, to make sure they understood. Then he’d get in again and wait for his ride.
One day, Madame Guérin brought Victor a set of metal squares. They fit neatly into a specially made box that had rows of little wooden compartments, each one marked.
The mark on the first compartment looked like this:
A
.
The mark on the last one looked like this:
Z
.
It was Victor’s task to take all the metal squares out, then put each one back into the compartment where the mark matched the shape.
A . . . B . . . C . . .
So Victor took them all out, in order, and set them aside in neat stacks, in order. Then, without ever having to look at the shapes themselves, he set them all back in the right place.
Bang, bang, bang
, and it was done!
Dr. Itard came in and watched.
After that, Dr. Itard made Madame Guérin mix all the shapes