5 10 61 https://www.nineteenthcenturydisability.org/files/original/a6d43f5d554ca48472cae24eb3fc92d4.jpg 926b918b57de36a75699bafc4126e030 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Description An account of the resource Miniature Self-Portrait by William Dunlap, in the high collar and blue jacket of the period. Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived http://artgallery.yale.edu/collections/objects/self-portrait-87 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1805 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Kim Beil Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Image Courtesy Yale University Art Gallery and the Metropolitan Museum of Art under a Creative Commons License. https://www.nineteenthcenturydisability.org/files/original/899b3dbcccaccd392d2f7e715fc8480a.jpg ddfd2ed84f2c39b75637ed513b2ca61a Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Description An account of the resource Self-Portrait by William Dunlap, watercolour on ivory shows the damage to the artist's right eye. Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived http://artgallery.yale.edu/collections/objects/self-portrait-17 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1812 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Image Courtesy Yale University Art Gallery and the Metropolitan Museum of Art under a Creative Commons License. https://www.nineteenthcenturydisability.org/files/original/49c33af7be39f0f6b9daf97dcc46027a.jpg 0dd1638b9a8bbc5051fa218cc01c10c0 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived http://metmuseum.org/collection/the-collection-online/search/17804?=&imgNo=0&tabName=object-information Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1825 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Image Courtesy Yale University Art Gallery and the Metropolitan Museum of Art under a Creative Commons License. Description An account of the resource Self-Portrait of William Dunlop. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 1798 to 1837 Description An account of the resource Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Description An account of the resource In these self-portrait miniatures the American painter William Dunlap (1766-1839) depicts the visible sign of his disability: permanent blindness of the right eye resulting from a childhood accident. Dunlap turned his damaged eye away from the viewer in each of these self-portraits, showing at least partial deference to prevailing conventions of portraiture. In one popular treatise on painting available in English translation,<a title="" href="#_ftn1">[1]</a> the Dutch classicist painter, Gérard de Lairesse (1641-1711) (who was himself blind due to congenital syphilis), admonished portrait painters who aimed to <blockquote>express punctually the deformities and defects of a face, without scruple; to wit, a blind or defective eye, or the like, though they know what an enemy it is to grace, and on no other ground than a false belief that it creates a greater likeness. But who loves to be reproached with his defects, when they can be artfully hidden?<a title="" href="#_ftn2">[2]</a></blockquote> While Dunlap repeatedly posed in a three-quarters view that favored the penetrating gaze of his left eye capped by a slightly arched brow, he also included the milky white of his damaged eye in at least two of these self-portraits. The injury was paradoxically the event that set Dunlap on the course to a career in the arts. Following his accident, Dunlap ceased formal schooling and concentrated instead on reading books and copying prints from his family’s library. It was on the strength of these copies, and his later pastel portraits of his family, acquaintances, and even General George Washington (United States Senate, 1783), that Dunlap’s father sent him to complete his artistic education in London under the premiere American expatriate artist, Benjamin West (1738-1820). Dunlap’s recurrent inclusion of his disability in his self-portraits perhaps signifies his recognition of its formative impact on his life, inspiring him to act in defiance of the prevailing expectation that such “deformities” be “artfully hidden” in portraiture. <div> <h3>Note</h3> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref1">[1]</a> For discussion of the impact of this text on Colonial American painters, see: Wayne Craven, “Colonial American Portraiture: Iconography and Methodology,” in The Portrait in Eighteenth-Century America, ed. Ellen Gross Miles (Newark; London: University of Delaware Press ; Associated University Presses, 1993), 113. </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref2">[2]</a> Gérard de Lairesse, A Treatise on the Art of Painting, in All Its Branches, trans. William Marshall Craig (London: E. Orme, 1817), 6. </div> </div> Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Dunlap, William. Self-Portrait, ca. 1812, watercolor on ivory, 3 x 2 ½”, Yale University Art Gallery <a href="http://artgallery.yale.edu/collections/objects/self-portrait-87">http://artgallery.yale.edu/collections/objects/self-portrait-17</a> Dunlap, William. Self-Portrait, ca. 1805, watercolor on ivory, 2/ ½ x 1 7/8”, Yale University Art Gallery <a href="http://artgallery.yale.edu/collections/objects/self-portrait-87">http://artgallery.yale.edu/collections/objects/self-portrait-87</a> Dunlap, William. Self-Portrait, ca. 1825, watercolor on ivory, 3 x 2”, Metropolitan Museum of Art, <a href="http://metmuseum.org/collection/the-collection-online/search/17804">http://metmuseum.org/collection/the-collection-online/search/17804</a> Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1805, 1812, 1825 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Kim Beil Relation A related resource <ul><li> Craven, Wayne. “Colonial American Portraiture: Iconography and Methodology.” In The Portrait in Eighteenth-Century America, edited by Ellen Gross Miles. Newark; London: University of Delaware Press ; Associated University Presses, 1993. </li> <li> Dunlap, William. History of the Rise and Progress of the Arts of Design in the United States: Volume 1. 2 vols. New York: George P. Scott and Company, Printers, 1834. https://archive.org/details/historyofrisepro01dunl </li> <li> Lairesse, Gérard de. A Treatise on the Art of Painting, in All Its Branches. Translated by William Marshall Craig. London: E. Orme, 1817. <a href="https://archive.org/details/treatiseonartofp02lair">https://archive.org/details/treatiseonartofp02lair</a> </li> <li> Lyons, Maura. William Dunlap and the Construction of an American Art History. Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 2005. </li> </ul> Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource William Dunlap Type The nature or genre of the resource Still Image Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Miniature self-portraits by American artist William Dunlap (c. <a href="http://artgallery.yale.edu/collections/objects/self-portrait-87">1805</a>, c. <a href="http://artgallery.yale.edu/collections/objects/self-portrait-17">1812</a>, c. <a href="http://metmuseum.org/collection/the-collection-online/search/17804">1825</a>). Watercolour on ivory. Images Courtesy Yale University Art Gallery and the Metropolitan Museum of Art under a Creative Commons License. Title A name given to the resource Self-Portrait William Dunlap Blindness Visual Culture William Dunlap https://www.nineteenthcenturydisability.org/files/original/f89dc46805bcd46a80bcec07996d2aaa.jpg ca24584683e51942799ee31e6fdc4e27 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Width 476 Height 600 Bit Depth 8 Channels 1 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Description An account of the resource A black and white photograph shows Thomas Edison, seated, demonstrating his phonograph in April, 1878. Courtesy of <a title="Wikimedia Commons" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Edison_and_phonograph_edit1.jpg" target="_blank">Wikimedia Commons</a>. https://www.nineteenthcenturydisability.org/files/original/5fe9857fec1908109c136cc7b28b4d66.gif f7e87bff7e536628eb75dcde0bb92fa5 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Width 760 Height 1171 Bit Depth 3 Channels 3 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Description An account of the resource Page image of "The Phonograph and its Future". https://www.nineteenthcenturydisability.org/files/original/1db00e6ca7acb28dcdee4712927f37d6.gif 04f9a530ccef21d8312608cfb8892575 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Width 760 Height 1171 Bit Depth 3 Channels 3 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Description An account of the resource Second page image of "The Phonograph and its Future". Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 1880 to 1901 Description An account of the resource Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. Text Any textual data included in the document. Books .—Books may be read by the charitably-inclined professional reader, or by such readers especially employed for that purpose, and the record of such book used in the asylums of the blind, hospitals, the sick-chamber, or even with great profit and amusement by the lady or gentleman whose eyes and hands may be otherwise employed; or, again, because of the greater enjoyment to be had from a book when read by an elocutionist than when read by the average reader. The ordinary record-sheet, repeating this book from fifty to a hundred times as it will, would command a price that would pay the original reader well for the slightly-increased difficulty in reading it aloud in the phonograph. (533) * * * * * Phonographic Books.—A book of 40,000 words upon a single metal plate ten inches square thus becomes a strong probability. The advantages of such books over those printed are too readily seen to need mention. Such books would be listened to where now none are read. They would preserve more than the mental emanations of the brain of the author; and, as a bequest to future generations, they would be unequaled. For the preservation of languages they would be invaluable. (534) * * * * * Every one of these uses the perfected phonograph is now ready to carry out. I may add that, through the facility with which it stores up and reproduces music of all sorts, or whistling and recitations, it can be employed to furnish constant amusement to invalids, or to social assemblies, at receptions, dinners, etc. Any one sitting in his room alone may order an assorted supply of wax cylinders inscribed with songs, poems, piano or violin music, short stories, anecdotes, or dialect pieces, and, by putting them on his phonograph, he can listen to them as originally sung or recited by authors, vocalists and actors, or elocutionists. The variety of entertainment he thus commands, at trifling expense and without moving from his chair, is practically unlimited. Music by a band, in fact whole operas, can be stored up on the cylinders, and the voice of Patti singing in England can thus be heard again on this side of the ocean, or preserved for future generations. On four cylinders eight inches long, with a diameter of five, I can put the whole of “Nicholas Nickleby” in phonogram form. (646) Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Talking Books Description An account of the resource Thomas Edison’s phonograph was the first machine to reproduce the human voice. In December 1877, Edison’s associates assembled a device on which Edison recorded the words of the nursery rhyme “Mary Had a Little Lamb.” The prototype consisted of a sheet of tinfoil wrapped around a grooved cylinder and rotated with a hand crank. Speech created indentations in the tinfoil (and, later, wax cylinders) that could be played back afterward. Phonograph demonstrations entertained audiences throughout the country by playing recitations, songs, music, and random noises such as whistling or whooping. Edison proposed using the phonograph to read aloud to people with disabilities in a promotional essay written for the North American Review. The essay identifies numerous uses for the phonograph including playing music, dictating letters, teaching elocution, animating dolls, recording courtroom testimony, preserving the last words of dying relatives, conserving the speeches of famous orators, and enabling clocks to announce the hours of the day. It also proposes using the phonograph as a reading machine: “Books may be read by the charitably-inclined professional reader, or by such readers especially employed for that purpose, and the record of such book used in the asylums of the blind, hospitals, the sick-chamber, or even with great profit and amusement by the lady or gentleman whose eyes and hands may be otherwise employed; or, again, because of the greater enjoyment to be had from a book when read by an elocutionist than when read by the average reader” (533). Edison envisioned books being read aloud to people with disabilities who were unable to read for themselves as well as people without disabilities who preferred listening to books recited by a professional narrator. He later described such recordings as “phonographic books, which would speak to blind people without effort on their part” (646). Edison’s prediction of a talking book was ahead of its time in the 1870s and 1880s. His idea was to record books of approximately 40,000 words on a single plate measuring ten inches square. Edison later proposed recording Charles Dickens’s Nicholas Nickleby on four wax cylinders. Yet tinfoil and wax cylinders could only play a few minutes of speech at a time. Recording an entire Dickens novel required hundreds of wax cylinders. It would be impossible to record an entire novel until advances in the field of sound recording made by the film and radio industries in the twentieth century. The American Foundation for the Blind and Library of Congress recorded the first books for people with vision impairments in 1934. These recordings, known as “talking books,” consisted of a book read aloud onto a set of long-playing phonograph records. The Library of Congress hailed the talking book program as the realization of Edison’s ambition to read aloud to people who were blind. Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived <ul><li>Edison, Thomas A. “The Phonograph and its Future.” North American Review 126 (May 1878): 527-36.</li> <li>Edison, Thomas A. “The Perfected Phonograph.” North American Review 379 (June 1888): 641-50.</li> </ul> Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1878, 1888 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Matthew Rubery Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource A black and white photograph shows Thomas Edison, seated, demonstrating his phonograph in April, 1878. Courtesy of <a title="Wikimedia Commons" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Edison_and_phonograph_edit1.jpg" target="_blank">Wikimedia Commons</a>. Relation A related resource <ul><li>Camlot, Jason. “Early Talking Books: Spoken Recordings and Recitation Anthologies, 1880-1920.” Book History 6 (2003): 147-73.</li> <li>Gitelman, Lisa. Always Already New: Media, History, and the Data of Culture. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2006. 25-44. </li> <li>Israel, Paul. Edison: A Life of Invention. New York: John Wiley, 1998. </li> <li>Koestler, Frances A. The Unseen Minority: A Social History of Blindness in the United States. New York: David McKay Company, 1976.</li> </ul> Language A language of the resource English Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Edison, Thomas Audio Culture Blindness Technology Thomas Edison https://www.nineteenthcenturydisability.org/files/original/330ec4540b1eaa1ced6a997f31704ba3.png 7bd31ae1f48e2961b4f55d86c291f079 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource This image is reproduced by courtesy of Alexander Graham Bell National Historic Site in Baddeck, Cape Breton, Nova Scotia, Canada. Description An account of the resource A white plastic glove with all the letters of the alphabet printed in lower case along the fingers and palm. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 1880 to 1901 Description An account of the resource Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. Text Any textual data included in the document. “The moment he evinced the independent desire to communicate with others by written words, I felt that the time had come to give him a means of forming written words for himself by teaching him his letters and a manual alphabet.” “For this purpose I adopted the plan, recommended by George Dalgarno, of writing the alphabet upon a glove. This glove I presented to him one morning as a new plaything He put it on his left hand, and then went to the card-rack, as usual, and presented me with the word for some object he desired; we shall suppose the word “doll.” I then covered up the word with the exception of the first letter, “d,” and directed his attention to the glove. After a little searching he discovered the corresponding letter upon the glove. I then showed him the letter “o” on the card, and he soon found it on the glove; and so with the other letters.” “After a little practice of this kind he became so familiar with the places of the letters that he no longer required to search, but pointed at once to the proper letter upon the glove. Every time he required a card from the card-rack I made him spell the word upon his fingers.” “In communicating with me it was unnecessary for him to wear the glove, as we both remembered the places of the letters. I kept up the practice of writing to him, as before, but required him to spell the words upon his hand while I wrote them on the board. He soon became so expert that he could spell faster than I could write, and often finished his sentence by guessing what I was going to add before I had written more than two- thirds. When this stage had been reached I often used the manual alphabet with him, instead of writing. I took his hand in mine and touched the places of the letters upon his hand. He did not require to look; he could feel where he was couched. He recognized the words in this way, however rapidly I spelled them upon his hand. As I had five fingers, I could touch five letters simultaneously, if I so desired, and a little practice enabled me to play upon his hand as one would play upon the keys of a piano, and quite as rapidly.” “I could also give emphasis by pressure upon the fingers, and group the words together as they would be grouped in utterance, leaving pauses, here and there, corresponding to the pauses made in actual speech.” “The more I used with him this means of communication the more I rejoiced in the fact that I had decided to employ an alphabet addressed to the sense of touch, instead of sight. It left his eye free to observe the expression of my face and the actions and objects which formed the subject of our conversation.” Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource A replica of the talking glove used by Alexander Graham Bell to teach George Sanders and, later, to communicate with Helen Keller. This image is reproduced by courtesy of Alexander Graham Bell National Historic Site in Baddeck, Cape Breton, Nova Scotia, Canada. Description An account of the resource In 1873 Alexander Graham Bell was employed to teach George Sanders, a five year-old congenitally deaf boy. As part of his instruction of Sanders, Bell used the ‘talking glove’ found in the 1680 book, Didascalocophus, or the Deaf and Dumb Man’s Tutor, by George Dalgarno (1628-1687), with slight modification. The letters of the alphabet were written on a glove in specific places on the glove’s surface. A sighted person would then spell words by touching the appropriate letter on the glove. Because of his success with this method of communication with George Sanders, Bell employed it when he met with Helen Keller in Washington in May of 1888. Keller, who was anxious to utilize any method that would allow her to communicate with others, was quite interested in this technology. On 15 May 1888, Anne Sullivan wrote to her former teacher at Perkins Institute for the Blind, Sophia Hopkins, to tell her that when the then-former Governor of Maine, Dr. Alonzo Garcelon, asked Keller what she would like to have as a present, Keller responded with “‘Some beautiful gloves to talk with.” Sullivan continues, writing that the “Doctor was puzzled. He had never heard of ‘talking-gloves’; but I explained that she had seen a glove on which the alphabet was printed, and evidently thought they could be bought. I told him he could buy some gloves if he wished, and that I would have the alphabet stamped on them” (Keller 261-62). While she could understand the potential the glove presented as a method of communication, Sullivan was also concerned by the accessibility of communication she saw with the glove. Dorothy Herrmann quotes an undated letter from Sullivan to Michael Anagnos, the director of the Perkins School for the Blind, in Helen Keller: A Life. In this letter, Sullivan is reluctant to have Keller use the talking glove as she saw its potential to allow anyone the ability to communicate with Keller, giving Sullivan little control over what Keller was exposed to: I cannot bring myself to the mental state, where I can feel contented to allow irresponsible and unreasoning persons to have easy access to my darling’s pure and loving little heart. I am sure that while I stay with her, she will never have occasion to feel the solitude of her life, and when I go, the glove, I doubt not, will add greatly to her enjoyment. But until then I am determined to keep my beautiful treasure pure and unspotted from the world. (quoted in Herrmann 71) In the end, although Keller herself was, initially, enthusiastic about the glove, it became inconvenient, as she grew more skilled at fingerspelling. Keller expressed her thoughts and opinions so rapidly with fingerspelling that the glove became slow and awkward for her. Indeed, the talking glove, or alphabet glove as it is now commonly called, is still used today by deafblind individuals, but, according to the National Federation of the Blind in Baltimore, Maryland, it “is a cumbersome communication method, but it works well when no other system is available.” As early as 1868, Bell had been involved in teaching deaf students how to speak through his father’s system called Visible Speech. However, rather than challenging Bell’s beliefs that the deaf could be integrated into American society through articulation, the alphabet glove was a part of his larger method of instruction intended to achieve this goal. Bell envisioned that the introduction to language through the alphabet glove and other tools would eventually lead to his students being able to lip-read and speak. While Keller did go on to realize Bell’s problematic oralist agenda and eventually learn to speak, Sanders was not able to master articulation<a title="" href="#_ftn1">[1]</a>. Sanders was, nevertheless, skilfully educated by Bell at least in part through the use of the alphabet glove. Bell’s success in instructing Sanders, who would go on to attend The National Deaf-Mute College in Washington, D.C. in 1882 and work as a printer, added to Bell’s growing reputation as an accomplished instructor to the deaf. Additionally, Thomas Sanders and Gardiner Greene Hubbard were so impressed with the alphabet glove and Bell’s success in educating George that they became major investors in Bell’s phone company. Building on the reputation that came from his use of tools such as the alphabet glove in his teaching and the proceeds from his invention of the telephone, Bell became one of the most influential figures in the oralist movement, a movement that sought to suppress sign language in favour of speaking and lip-reading and would have, and still has today, significant negative ramifications for deaf communities throughout the world. Note <div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref1">[1]</a> In a forced emotional scene in the 1939 The Story of Alexander Graham Bell, George Sanders is depicted as being able to eventually say “father” while his father, Thomas, weeps with happiness. </div> </div> Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Bell, Alexander Graham. “Upon a Method of Teaching Language to a Very Young Congenitally Deaf Child.” American Annals of the Deaf and Dumb. XXVII (1883): 124-139. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1883 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Nadine LeGier Relation A related resource <ul><li> Clark, Harold T. Talking Gloves For The Deaf and Blind: Their Value to Men Injured in the Present War. Cleveland, Ohio, 1917. </li> </ul><ul><li> Dalgarno, George. Didascalocophus, or the Deaf and Dumb Man’s Tutor. Oxford: Printed at the Theater, 1680. </li> </ul><ul><li> Herrmann, Dorothy. Helen Keller: A Life. Chicago: Chicago UP, 1998. </li> </ul><ul><li> Keller, Helen. The Story of My Life. New York: Modern Library, 2003. </li> </ul><ul><li> National Federation for the Blind. <a href="https://nfb.org/deaf-blind-resources">https://nfb.org/deaf-blind-resources</a> </li> </ul> Title A name given to the resource Talking Gloves Language A language of the resource English https://www.nineteenthcenturydisability.org/files/original/cd07918c6f0f82a422b73c24f001ba6e.jpeg 99d2438f56b35820b9b03f6c8d86386e Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Width 280 Height 430 Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Description An account of the resource This black and white photograph shows a young woman holding Rhodes’ Audiphone to her mouth, c.1926. Courtesy of The Central Institute for the Deaf-Max A. Goldstein Historic Devices for Hearing Collection. Becker Medical Library, Washington University School of Medicine. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 1880 to 1901 Description An account of the resource Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. Text Any textual data included in the document. The mute will feel the influence of the sound on his hand in the instructor's throat, imitate it in his own throat, will hear the speaker's voice on the Audiphone and will be aided in imitating the speaker by seeing his lips, and will also hear his own voice on the Audiphone, and readily learn to speak. It is remarkable how rapidly they learn to distinguish words by sound. In a very short time, they have learned to repeat whole sentences spoken to them while blindfolded. It is believed that every mute child may hear and learn to speak by using the Audiphone. It must be borne in mind, however, that a mute who has never heard has no conception of the meaning of the simplest words. Even though he be very intelligent and highly educated, read and write fluently, and interpret language readily by the motion of the speaker's lips, still he will not understand the most elementary sound until he is taught. He is familiar with visible, but knows nothing of articulate, language. At first, if you ask him to intimate whether or not he hears by means of the Audiphone, he may indicate that he feels a peculiar sensation that is new to him. It will not be long, however, until he realizes that what seemed to him feeling we call sound. Parents and teachers of mutes are, therefore, recommended to begin with the rudiments of language, as in teaching a child of two years. Mutes enjoy music from the first. A piano or organ should be used daily in their early training, at first resting the handle of the Audiphone on the instrument. Start and stop the music at intervals, until they realize the difference. Then they may withdraw from the piano and gradually accustom themselves to the new sensation. Faithful and patient practice, repeating over and over again the vowels and other simple sounds day after day, must be the ground-work of the mute's articulate education. To expect him to understand the first sounds that reach his brain is like asking the child in the A B C class to read Bacon or Shakspeare [sic]. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Audiphone Description An account of the resource On September 1879, Richard Silas Rhodes (1842-1902), president of a publishing company in Chicago, received a patent for his “Audiphone for the Deaf” his various improvements to the device. (<a>U.S. Patent No. 319,828</a>). Rhodes had conductive hearing loss<a title="" href="#_ftn1">[1]</a> for twenty years following a bout of illness and was frustrated with his continuous failed encounters with ear trumpets. He observed he could hear the ticking of his watch when he held it in his mouth, and this inspired his construction of the Audiphone, which exploited the fact sound waves can be transmitted through the teeth or cranial bones. Hearing through bone conduction by using a material to transmit external sound through the jaw or teeth is an ancient notion, with references to its use dating back to the Ancient Greeks. In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, some scholars observed sounds could be heard at a distance upon placing a rod on the ground and holding the other end to the teeth. Physicians, educators, and even deaf individuals experimented with a variety of materials, such as wood, to figure out which objects best could transmit sound from a vibrating source (Mills 143; Goldstein 345). The Audiphone was made of a flexible sheet of polished black vulcanite (hardened rubber), with a handle, and was constructed in the shape of a fan. It was 24cm wide 27.7cm long, and 1mm thick. Another model was later constructed consisting of two leaves, designed so the user could also hear his or her voice. The standard model sold for $10 and the double-model sold for $15, an expensive sum at the time. For an extra charge, Rhodes would add ornamental features to disguise the instrument and make it inconspicuous as a hearing aid device. It was designed to be held loosely in the hand, with the upper edge placed under the upper teeth with slight pressure; the lower teeth should not be allowed to come into contact with the instrument (Goldstein 347). The device was effective only in conductive hearing loss. Users could improve their hearing up to 30 decibels, equivalent to a soft conversation heard a few feet away in a quiet room (for comparison, 20dB is the rustling of leaves, or whispering; 0dB is the hearing threshold). In January 1881, Rhodes received a patent for a modified version of his design, an Audiphone that folded as a fan of 10mm. The model was awarded a medal at the 1893 World’s Columbia Exposition in Chicago. In an <a href="http://nzetc.victoria.ac.nz/tm/scholarly/tei-Stout38-t13-body-d1.html">advertising pamphlet</a>, The Audiphone: A New Invention that enables the deaf to hear (1879), Rhodes remarks the Audiphone was “GOOD NEWS FOR THE DEAF,” for it enables them to hear ordinary conversation readily and was beneficial for church, lectures, concerts, plays, and so forth. Moreover, the design of the device as a fan meant the user could easily conceal their deafness if they wished, by pretending they were simply using a fan. Numerous testimonials from the United States and Europe commented on the Audiphone’s <a href="http://nzetc.victoria.ac.nz/tm/scholarly/tei-Stout38-t13-body-d3.html">acoustic capabilities</a>. The Englishman James Samuelson, for instance, purchased one in his visit to the United States in 1880, and tried it himself both in private and in public. He testifies: “It seems to me that aurists [medical specialists of the ear] and teachers of the deaf will be very much benefited by the invention: the former, through being able to use it as an instrument for diagnosis…the latter, where the child is deaf from some injury or imperfection of the mechanical portions of the auditory apparatus” (Samuelson 12). Indeed, the Audiphone was used in schools for the deaf, particularly in France, though opinions on its benefits varied. Some teachers were astounded at its ability to assist deaf children to speak, while others noted it was completely unnecessary as a pedagogical aid. Mary McCowen, for instance, who taught a class of semi-deaf children at the Nebraska School for the Deaf (est. 1869), and at the “Voice and Hearing School for the Deaf” in Chicago, remarked: “Though I began the year’s work as a most enthusiastic advocate of the audiphones, and used it conscientiously for several months, I cannot without a protest allow it to be said that the teacher of that class ascribes the success to the audiphones. I make a specialty in my work here of training the hearing, but I have thus far failed to find a single child that was really and truly helped by the audiphones” (American Annals of the Deaf and Dumb 87). Some schools in England even reported that at least twenty percent of the pupils had sufficient hearing when assisted with the audiphone, enabling them to participate more diligently in their speech-training and learning. Rhodes’ Audiphone remained a popular bone-conduction hearing instrument until the early years of the twentieth century, long after Rhodes’ unfortunate death—he was killed while walking along the Wisconsin Central Railroad tracks in Illinois (Berger 318). Various other patents and designs of the Audiphone popped up over the ears, each boasting a more efficient conduction system, a cheaper price tag, or a more revolutionary design. Some of these were quickly dismissed as nothing more than another <a href="http://select.nytimes.com/gst/abstract.html?res=F20716FE34551B7A93C6A81788D85F448884F9">“quack cure” for deafness</a>. <h3>Note</h3> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[1]</a> Conductive hearing loss is when it is difficult for sound waves to conduct through the tympanum (the ear drum) or the middle ear, where the ossicles (three tiny bones in the ear) reside. </div> Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Rhodes, Richard S. Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Rhodes, Richard S. The Audiphone: A New Invention that Enables the Deaf to Hear. Chicago: Rhodes & McClure, 1879. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1881 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Jaipreet Virdi-Dhesi Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource This black and white photograph shows a young woman holding Rhodes’ Audiphone to her mouth, c.1926. Courtesy of The Central Institute for the Deaf-Max A. Goldstein Historic Devices for Hearing Collection. <a href="http://beckerimages.wustl.edu/">Becker Medical Library</a>, Washington University School of Medicine. Relation A related resource <ul><li> Berger, Kenneth W. The Hearing Aid, it’s Operation and Development. Michigan, USA: National Hearing Aid Society, 1970. </li> <li> Berger, Kenneth W. “Early Bone Conduction Hearing Aid Devices.” Archives of Otolaryngology 102 (May 1976): 315-318. </li> <li> Murdy, Albert and Tjellstorm, Anders. “Historical Background of Bone Conduction Hearing Devices and Bone Conduction Hearing Aids.” Archives of Otorhinolaryngology 71 (2011): 1-9. </li> <li> Mills, Mara. “When Mobile Communication Technologies Were New.” Endeavour 33.4 (2009): 140-146. </li> <li> Goldstein, Max A. Problems of the Deaf. St. Louis: The Laryngoscope Press, 1933. </li> <li> Samuelson, James. “Rhodes’s Audiphone.” British Medical Journal 3.1 (1880): 12. </li> </ul> Advertisement Deafness Medicine Mobility Prosthesis Technology https://www.nineteenthcenturydisability.org/files/original/b3aa732d8ec9ce789862a1e948ee4838.jpg b2374c8406bda4e065580da083121674 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Width 711 Height 1035 Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Description An account of the resource Millais's oil painting shows a blind musician and her sister resting on the roadside after a storm. Green hills and pasture make up the middleground, a double rainbow and a town can be seen in the distance. Millais, John Everett. The Blind Girl. 1856. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 1837 to 1860 Description An account of the resource Still Image A static visual representation. Examples of still images are: paintings, drawings, graphic designs, plans and maps. Recommended best practice is to assign the type "text" to images of textual materials. Tag Items with this tag should be included in the timeline cognition Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Blind Girl Description An account of the resource <div> <a title="Millais Bio" href="http://www.bmagic.org.uk/people/John+Everett+Millais" target="_blank">John Everett Millais</a>’s (1829-1896) The Blind Girl (1856) shows a blind musician with a concertina in her lap, and a little girl, presumed to be her sister, resting on the roadside after a rainstorm. They are on their way toward Winchelsea, whose church appears on the hill-top in the background (Flint 75). With its idyllic rural landscape, this <a title="Pre-Raphaelite at Birmingham" href="http://www.preraphaelites.org/" target="_blank">pre-Raphalite</a> painting presents a more romanticized version of the life of a blind beggar than its contemporary, Henry Mayhew’s London Labour and the London Poor. Millais’s painting draws on a long Christian tradition of reading blind people as both blessed and afflicted by their lack of sight: while the blind may face practical difficulties in navigating a world set up for the sighted, as well as missing out on visual pleasures, as people less enmeshed in the material world, they may closer to the spiritual world and to God. This tension between the material and the spiritual is reflected in the painting itself, which is an object of visual pleasure but also a reminder to the viewer, with its autumnal setting, of the decay of this world and the importance of the next world. The little girl acts as both an interpreter of the scene for the blind girl and a stand-in for the viewer, who appreciates the double rainbow that the blind girl cannot see. Meanwhile, the blind girl’s upturned face and partially closed eyes suggest that she is contemplating higher things while resting and enjoying the sunshine. The forget-me-nots in the lower left-hand corner act as a reminder to the viewer not to forget, and perhaps hint at the cruelty of the blind girl’s lost ability to see them in bloom (Flint 75). The viewer is thus encouraged to both pity the blind girl and appreciate her spirituality. Kate Flint argues that the painting “may be seen as a contribution to a developing discourse which set the visibility and the epistemological certainties of the material, industrial world, blindly self-regarding in its own pride in its achievements, against the higher worth of divine illumination” (82). </div> <h2> </h2> Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Millais, John Everett Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Millais's oil painting shows a blind musician and her sister resting on the roadside after a storm. Green hills and pasture make up the middleground, a double rainbow and a town can be seen in the distance. Millais, John Everett. The Blind Girl. 1856. <a title="Birmingham Museum, The Blind Girl" href="http://www.bmagic.org.uk/objects/1892P3" target="_blank">Birmingham Museums and Art Gallery</a>. Web. August 2012. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1856 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Karen Bourrier Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource The Blind Girl (1856) by John Everett Millais. Image in the public domain courtesy of <a title="wikimedia the Blind Girl" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Millais-Blind_Girl.jpg" target="_blank">Wikimedia Commons.</a> Relation A related resource <ul><li>Flint, Kate. The Victorians and the Visual Imagination. New York: Cambridge UP, 2000.</li> <li>Birmingham Museums and Art Gallery. <a title="Pre-Raphaelites" href="http://www.preraphaelites.org/" target="_blank">Pre-Raphaelite Online Resource</a>. <<a href="http://www.preraphaelites.org/">http://www.preraphaelites.org/</a>> </li> </ul> Blindness Class John Everett Millais Painting Visual Culture https://www.nineteenthcenturydisability.org/files/original/4749e0f1dfc862e860e68c87599fb354.gif c7f224b413683c4820235c63edfc6f07 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Width 400 Height 650 Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Description An account of the resource The illustration shows the seller of nutmeg graters on his knees on the street. He wears a sign reading "I was born a cripple" and has nutmeg graters strung on his body. 'The Street-Seller of Nutmeg Graters' from a Daguerreotype by Beard. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 1837 to 1860 Description An account of the resource Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. Text Any textual data included in the document. I now give an example of one of the classes driven to the streets by utter inability to labour. I have already spoken of the sterling independence of some of these men possessing the strongest claims to our sympathy and charity, and yet preferring to sell rather than beg. As I said before, many ingrained beggars certainly use the street trade as a cloak for alms-seeking, but as certainly many more, with every title to our assistance, use it as a means of redemption from beggary. That the nutmeg-grater seller is a noble example of the latter class, I have not the least doubt. I have made all due inquiries to satisfy myself as to his worthiness, and I feel convinced that when the reader looks at the portrait here given, and observes how utterly helpless the poor fellow is, and then reads the following plain unvarnished tale, he will marvel like me, not only at the fortitude which could sustain him under all his heavy afflictions, but at the resignation (not to say philosophy) with which he bears them every one. His struggles to earn his own living (notwithstanding his physical incapacity even to put the victuals to his mouth after he has earned them), are instances of a nobility of pride that are I believe without a parallel. The poor creature’s legs and arms are completely withered; indeed he is scarcely more than head and trunk. His thigh I hardly thicker than a child’s wrist. His hands are bent inward from contraction of the sinews, the fingers being curled up and almost as thin as the claws of a bird’s foot. He is unable even to stand, and cannot move from place to place but on his knees, which are shod with leather caps, like the heels of a clog, strapped round the joint; the soles of his boots are on the upper leathers, that being the part always turned towards the ground while he is crawling along. His countenance is rather handsome than otherwise; the intelligence indicated by his ample forehead is fully borne out by the testimony as to his sagcity in his business, and the mild expression of his eye by the statements as to his feeling for all others in affliction. “I sell nutmeg-graters<a title="" href="#_ftn1">[1]</a> and funnels,' said the cripple to me; “I sell them at 1d. and 1½ d. a piece.<a title="" href="#_ftn2">[2]</a> I get mine of the man in whose house I live. He is a tinman, and makes for the street trade and shops and all. I pay 7d. a dozen for them, and I get 12d. or 18d. a dozen, if I can when I sell them, but mostly I get a penny a piece—it’s quite a chance if I have a customer at 1½ d. Some days I sell only three—some days not one—though I’m out from ten o’clock till six. The most I ever took was 2s. 6d. in a day. Some weeks I hardly clear my expenses—and they’re between 7s. and 8s. a week; for not being able to dress and ondress myself, I’m obligated to pay some one to do it for me—I think I don’t clear more than 7s. a week take one week with another. When I don’t make that much, I go without—sometimes friends who are kind to me give me a trifle, or else I should starve. […] When I do very well I have three meals a day, but it’s oftener only two—breakfast and supper—unless of Sunday. On a wet day when I can’t get out, I often go without food. I may have a bit of bread and butter give me, but that’s all—then I lie a-bed. I feel miserable enough when I see the rain come down of a week day, I can tell you. Ah, it is very miserable indeed lying in bed all day, and in a lonely room, without perhaps a person to come near one—helpless as I am—and hear the rain beat against the windows, and all that without nothing to put in your lips. I’ve done that over and over again where I lived before; but where I live now I’m more comfortable like. My breakfast is mostly bread and butter and tea; and my supper, bread and butter and tea with a bit of fish, or a small bit of meat. What my landlord and landlady has I share with them. I never break my fast from the time I go out in the morning till I come home—unless it is a halfpenny orange I buy in the street; I do that when I feel faint. I have only been selling in the streets since this last winter. I was in the workhouse with a fever all the summer. I was destitute afterwards, and obliged to begin selling in the streets. The Guardians<a title="" href="#_ftn3">[3]</a> gave me 5s. to get stock. I had always dealt in tin ware, so I knew where to go to buy my things. It’s very hard work indeed is street-selling for such as me. I can’t walk no distance. I suffer a great deal of pains in my back and knees. Sometimes I go in a barrow, when I’m traveling any great way. When I go only a short way a crawl along on my knees and toes. The most I’ve ever crawled is two miles. When I get home afterwards, I’m in great pain. My knees swell dreadfully, and they’re all covered with blisters, and my toes ache awful. I’ve corns all on top of them. “Often after I’ve been walking, my limbs and back ache so badly that I can get no sleep. Across my lines it feels as if I’d got some great weight, and my knees are in a heat, and throb, and feel as if a knife was running into them. When I go up-stairs I have to crawl upon the backs of my hands and my knees. I can’t lift nothing to my mouth. The sinews of my hands is all contracted. I am obliged to have things held to my lipe for me to drink, like a child. I can use a knife and fork by leaning my arm on the table and then stooping my head to it. I can’t wash nor ondress myself. Sometimes I think of my helplessness a great deal. The thoughts of it used to throw me into fits at one time—very bad. It’s the Almighty’s will that I am so, and I must abide by it. People says, as they passes me in the streets, ‘Poor fellow, it’s a shocking thing;’ but very seldom they does any more than pity me; some lays out half a-penny or a penny with me, but most of ‘em goes on about their business. Persons looks at me a good bit when I go into a strange place. I do feel it very much, that I haven’ the power to get my living or to do a thing for myself, but I never begged for nothing. I’d sooner starve than I ‘d do that. I never thought that people whom God had given the power to help theirselves ought to help me. I have thought that I’m as I am—obliged to on my hands and knees, from no fault of my own. Often I’ve done that, and I’ve over and over again laid in bed and wondered why the Almighty should send me into this world in such a state; often I’ve done that on a wet day, with nothing to eat, and no friend to come a-nigh me. When I’ve gone along the streets, too, and been in pain, I’ve thought, as I’ve seen the people pass straight up, with all the use of their limbs, and some of them the biggest blackguards, cussing and swearing, I’ve thought, Why should I be deprived of the use of mine? and I’ve felt angry like, and perhaps at that moment I couldn’t ring my mind to believe the Almighty was so good and merciful as I’d heard say; but then in a minute or two afterwards I’ve prayed to Him to make me better and happier in the next world. I’ve always been led to think He’s afflicted me as He has for some wise purpose or another that I can’t see. I think as mine is so hard a life in this world, I shall be better off in the next. Often when I couldn’t afford to pay a boy, I’ve not had m boots off for four or five nights and days, nor my clothes neither. Give me the world I couldn’t take them off myself, and then my feet has swollen to that degree that I’ve been nearly mad with pain, and I’ve been shivering and faint, but still I was obliged to go out with my things; if I hadn’t I should have starved. Such as I am can’t afford to be ill—it’s only rich folks as can lay up, not we; for us to take to our beds is to go without food altogether […] Mother was a cook in a nobleman’s family when I were born. They say as I was a love-child. I was not brought up by mother, but by one of her fellow-servants. Mother’s intellects was so weak, that she couldn’t have me with her. She used to fret a good deal about me, so her fellow-servant took me when she got married. After I were born, mother married a farmer in middling circumstances. They tell me as my mother was frightened afore I was born. I never knew my father. He went over to Buonos Ayres, and kept a hotel there—I’ve heard mother say as much. No mother couldn’t love a child more than mine did me, but her feelings was such she couldn’t bear to see me. I never went to mother’s to live, but was brought up by the fellow servant as I’ve told you of. Mother allowed her 30l a-year. I was with her till two years back. She was always very kind to me—treated me like one of her own. Mother used to come and see me about once a-year—sometimes not so often; she was very kind to me then. Oh, yes; I used to like to see her very much. Whatever I wished for she’d let me have; if I wrote to her, she always sent me what I wanted. I was very comfortable then. Mother died four years ago; when I lost her I fell into a fit—I was told of it all of a sudden. She and the party as I was brought up with was the only friends as I had in the world—the only persons as cared anything about a creature like me. […] I have still some relations living, and they are well to do, but, being a cripple, they despise me. My aunt, my mother’s sister, is married to a builder, in Petersham, near Richmond—having some houses of their own besides a good business. I have got a boy to wheel me down on a barrow to them, and asked assistance of them, but they will have nothing to do with me. They won’t look at me for my affliction. Six months ago they gave me half-a-crown. I had no lodgings nor victuals then; and that I shouldn’t have had from them had I not said I was starving and must go to the parish. This winter I went to them, and they shut the door in my face. […] I can, indeed, solemnly say, that there is nothing else against me, and that I strive hard and crawl about till my limbs ache enough to drive me mad, to get an honest livelihood. With a couple of pounds I could, I think, manage to shift very well for myself. I’d get a stock, and go into the country with a barrow, and buy old metal, and exchange tin ware for old clothes, and, with that, I’m almost sure I could get a decent living. I’m accounted a very good dealer.” <h3>Notes</h3> <div><div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[1]</a> Grated nutmeg featured not only sweet dishes where one might expect it such as Christmas plum pudding, bread and butter pudding or punch, but, according to <a href="http://ebooks.adelaide.edu.au/b/beeton/isabella/household/">Mrs. Beeton’s recipes</a>, grated nutmeg was essential to savoury dishes such as fowl or chicken pie, eel pie, and potted ham </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[2]</a> British currency was not decimalized until 1971. It was divided up into pounds (£) shillings (s or l, there were twenty shillings in a pound) and pennies (d). See Marje Bloy, “<a href="http://www.victorianweb.org/economics/currency.html">British Currency before 1971</a>” The Victorian Web. </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[3]</a> After the Poor Law Amendment Act of 1834, before which relief or alms were given out at the discretion of the parish, paupers were forced to seek relief in workhouses, which meant that they had to live in an institution and work in order to gain relief. See Peter Higganbotham, <a href="http://www.workhouses.org.uk/">The Workhouse</a>, <http://www.workhouses.org.uk/> </div> </div> Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Crippled Street-Seller of Nutmeg Graters Description An account of the resource Journalist Henry Mayhew (1812-1887) began publishing his vast collection of interviews and observations on London street life in the mid-century, in the newspaper the Morning Chronicle in 1849. When the newspaper collapsed in 1850, Mayhew continued his interviews, often with the help of collaborators, and bound numbers of the work in-progress were issued from 1851-1852. In 1861-62 he collected all his work in three volumes, with a fourth volume mainly written by others added later, under the title London Labour and the London Poor (<a title="Review of London Labour" href="http://www.victorianweb.org/history/work/abanerjee1.html" target="_blank">A. Banjaree</a>). Many of the London street people that Mayhew interviewed were ill or disabled; his interviews offer a rare account of how lower class people with disabilities were seen, and how they saw themselves. In the excerpt below of his interview with the “crippled street-seller of nutmeg-graters,” Mayhew attempts to establish the nutmeg-grater seller as one of the “honest poor” rather than a begging imposter. He prefaces his account of the crippled street-seller with a disquisition on the difference between those who use street-selling as a excuse for begging, and those who are honestly trying to make a living through selling their wares, and ends it by reprinting letters from those who know him swearing to his honesty and sobriety. Most of the text is a report of the street-seller’s own account of his life, in his own words. Martha Stoddard Holmes argues that there is a tension between Mayhew’s melodramatic framing of the cripple’s story and the nutmeg-grater’s own account of himself, which is straightforward to the point of being anti-melodramatic (138). The nutmeg-grater cannot walk, and speaks of the practicalities of paying a boy to wheel him around in a barrow, and to dress and undress him. He once owned a shop but lost it through customers who did not pay for their wares, and has been in the workhouse, but avers that he would rather die on the streets than die a pauper. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Mayhew, Henry Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Mayhew, Henry. London Labour and the London Poor; A Cyclopaedia of the Condition and Earnings of those that will work, those that cannot work, and those that will not work Vol. 1. The London Street-Folk. London: Office, 16, Upper Wellington Street, Strand, 1851. Pages 329-332. Available online at <a title="London Labour and the London Poor" href="http://archive.org/details/londonlabourand00mayhgoog" target="_blank">archive.org</a> through Google Books. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1851 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Karen Bourrier Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource The illustration shows the seller of nutmeg graters on his knees on the street. He wears a sign reading "I was born a cripple" and has nutmeg graters strung on his body. 'The Street-Seller of Nutmeg Graters' from a Daguerreotype by Beard. Image courtesy <a title="Mayhew on Victorian London" href="http://www.victorianlondon.org/mayhew/mayhew-street-characters.htm" target="_blank">Victorian London</a> under a Creative Commons License. Relation A related resource <ul><li>Banerjee,<a title="Banjaree Review" href="http://www.victorianweb.org/history/work/abanerjee1.html" target="_blank"> A. Review of Robert Douglas-Fairhurst's Selected Edition of Henry Mayhew's London Labour and the London Poor.</a> </li> <li>Stoddard Holmes, Martha. Fictions of Affliction: Physical Disability in Victorian Culture. Ann Arbor: U of Michigan P, 2004.</li> <li>Mayhew, Henry. London Labour and the London Poor. Ed. Robert Douglas-Fairhurst. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010. [Contains a shorter extract of "The Crippled Street-Seller of Nutmeg Graters."]</li> </ul> Class Henry Mayhew Journalism life writing Masculinity Orthopaedic Disability https://www.nineteenthcenturydisability.org/files/original/a9178b0976e7e9469414bbe1402bd9a9.jpg e9d8b4c3033e1e55d20ab05da377d182 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Width 511 Height 800 Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 IPTC String byline_title:Rights and Images Department byline:National Portrait Gallery London headline:NPG 2193; Charlotte Mary Yonge by George Richmond source:National Portrait Gallery London caption_writer:National Portrait Gallery London - www.npg.org.uk credit:National Portrait Gallery London caption:by George Richmond, watercolour and chalk, 1844 date_created:02.05.2012 copyright_notice:© National Portrait Gallery, London object_name:NPG 2193; Charlotte Mary Yonge special_instructions:Unauthorised reproduction prohibited. For authorisation contact rightsandimages@npg.org.uk www.npg.org.uk city:London, St Martin's Place, WC2 0HE country:United Kingdom IPTC Array a:13:{s:12:"byline_title";s:28:"Rights and Images Department";s:6:"byline";s:32:"National Portrait Gallery London";s:8:"headline";s:49:"NPG 2193; Charlotte Mary Yonge by George Richmond";s:6:"source";s:32:"National Portrait Gallery London";s:14:"caption_writer";s:49:"National Portrait Gallery London - www.npg.org.uk";s:6:"credit";s:32:"National Portrait Gallery London";s:7:"caption";s:47:"by George Richmond, watercolour and chalk, 1844";s:12:"date_created";s:10:"02.05.2012";s:16:"copyright_notice";s:36:"© National Portrait Gallery, London";s:11:"object_name";s:30:"NPG 2193; Charlotte Mary Yonge";s:20:"special_instructions";s:105:"Unauthorised reproduction prohibited. For authorisation contact rightsandimages@npg.org.uk www.npg.org.uk";s:4:"city";s:34:"London, St Martin's Place, WC2 0HE";s:7:"country";s:14:"United Kingdom";} Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Description An account of the resource This watercolour and chalk portrait shows a young, ringletted romantic version of Charlotte Yonge.  Portrait by George Richmond (1844). Courtesy <a title="National Portrait Gallery" href="http://www.npg.org.uk/" target="_blank">National Portrait Gallery</a> under a Creative Commons License (<a title="Portrait of Yonge" href="http://www.npg.org.uk/collections/search/portrait/mw06981/Charlotte-Mary-Yonge?" target="_blank">NPG 2193</a>). Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 1837 to 1860 Description An account of the resource Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. Text Any textual data included in the document. The Doctors were right, and the Consecration morning was the last of full consciousness. From the hour when she had heard the sound of Alan’s bells,<a title="" href="#_ftn1">[1]</a> her ears were closed to earthly sounds. There was very little power of intercourse with her, as she lingered on the borders of the land very far away, where skill and tenderness could not reach either body or spirit. Often the watchers could not tell whether she was conscious, or only incapacitated from expression, by the fearful weight on her breath which caused a restlessness most pitiable in the exhausted helpless frame, wasted till the softest touch was anguish. Now and then came precious gleams when a familiar voice or some momentary alleviation would gain a smile, or thanks, and they thought her less restless when Richard read prayers beside her, but words were very rare, only now and then a name, and when in most distress, ‘it will soon be over,’ ‘it will soon be over,’ occurred so often, that they began to think it once her solace, and now repeated habitually without meaning. They could not follow her into the valley of the shadow of death, but could only watch the frail earthly prison house being broken down, as if the doom of sin must be borne, though faith could trust that it was but her full share of the Cross. [...] It was midnight, on the longest night of the year; Ethel was lying on her bed and had fallen into a brief slumber, when her father’s low, clear voice summoned her: ‘Ethel, she is going!’ There was a change on the face, and the breath came in labouring gasps. Richard lifted her head, and her eyes once more opened; she smiled once more. ‘Papa!’ she said, ‘dear papa!’ He threw himself on his knees beside her, but she looked beyond him, ‘Mamma! Alan! oh! there they are! More! more!’ and, as though the unspeakable dawned on her, she gasped for utterance, then looked, with a consoling smile, on her father. ‘Over now!’ she said – and the last struggle was ended. That which Richard laid down was no longer Margaret May. Over now! The twenty-five years’ life, the seven years’ captivity on her couch, the anxious headship of the motherless household, the hopeless betrothal, the long suspense, the efforts for resignation, the widowed affections, the slow decay, the tardy, painful death agony – all was over. Nothing left, save what they had rendered her undying spirit, and the impress her example had left on those around her. The long continuance of the last suffering had softened the actual parting; and it was with thankfulness for the cessation of her pain that they turned away, and bade each other good-night. Ethel would not have believed that her first wakening to the knowledge that Margaret was gone, could have been more fraught with relief than with misery. And, for her father, it seemed as if it were a home-like, comfortable thought to him, that her mother had one of her children with her. He called her the first link of his Daisy Chain drawn up out of sight; and, during the quiet days that ensued, he seemed as it were to be lifted above grief, dwelling upon hope. [...] Jennings [was] added to the bearers, their own men, and two Cocksmoor labourers, who, early on Christmas Eve, carried her to the Minster. Last time she had been there, Alan Ernescliffe had supported her. Now, what was mortal of him lay beneath the palm tree, beneath the glowing summer sky, while the first snow flakes hung like pearls on her pall. But, as they laid her by her mother’s side, who could doubt that they were together?” Book 2, Chapter 25, pages 645-648 <h3>Note</h3> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[1]</a> The bells were paid for by Margaret's fiance, Alan Ernescliffe, a sailor who died overseas before they could be married, and endowed the new church at Cocksmoor in his will. The lovers are shown to be united in death through the church, as they never could be in life. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Daisy Chain Description An account of the resource Yonge’s 1853 novel The Heir of Redclyffe was the bestseller which made her name, but it was The Daisy Chain (1856) which cemented her reputation. In the preface, Yonge describes it as “a Family Chronicle” (v), and this was the genre with which she came to be most closely associated. The novel tells the story of the eleven May children,<a title="" href="#_ftn1">[1]</a> who lose their mother in the opening chapter. Yonge was to become famous for her portrayals of invalids, and disabled characters abound in all her major novels: Charles Edmonstone in The Heir of Redclyffe, Ermine Williams in The Clever Woman of the Family (1865) and Geraldine Underwood in The Pillars of the House (1873). Margaret May is perhaps Yonge’s most archetypal representation of an invalid; injured in the carriage accident which kills her mother, she never walks again, spending seven years as an invalid before succumbing to a wasting illness. Margaret’s patience and resignation, developed during her years confined to her couch, are a powerful influence on her impulsive younger sister, Ethel, whose maturation forms the novel’s main narrative arc. It is Margaret who persuades Ethel to give up her attempt to keep pace with her brother Norman’s classical studies in order to focus on her daughterly duties, and whose decline and death make way for Ethel to take her place as the mother-substitute in the family. Margaret herself is said to be “perfectly content and happy”, knowing “the temptation of her character had been to be the ruler and manager of everything, and she saw it had been well for her to have been thus assigned the part of Mary, rather than of Martha” (633). She repeatedly suggests that she would have enjoyed managing a household and a social life, to the point of being domineering and worldly, like her sister Flora, had not the enforced passivity of invalidism enabled her to achieve a submissive, and truly Christian, attitude. Yonge’s depiction of Margaret’s invalidism had great cultural resonance: in 1866, a critic for the Saturday Review wrote that “An angelic being with a weak spine, who, from her sofa, directed with mild wisdom the affairs of the family or the parish, was a favourite creation of our lady-novelists of the pre-Braddonian period.” (438-9)<a title="" href="#_ftn2">[2]</a> The author mentions Yonge as one of a group of novelists, including Elizabeth Sewell and Dinah Mulock Craik, who were famous for their interest in invalidism. Although this subject was seen as distasteful by some twentieth century critics – Georgina Battiscombe describes Margaret as “a sad bore” (94) and Q. D. Leavis was revolted by Yonge’s “morbid” preoccupation with “permanent invalid[s]” (153) – more recently, critics have begun to point out the powerful aspects of Margaret’s representation as an invalid. Before bequeathing her place to Ethel, she achieves a central place in the domestic sphere which is Yonge’s focus and ideal, and thus succeeds in transforming her enforced immobility into a source of indirect power. The following extract is taken from her death-bed scene. <h3>Notes</h3> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[1]</a> The family reappear in subsequent novels, including The Trial (1864) and The Pillars of the House (1874). <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[2]</a> “Novels Past and Present”, Saturday Review, 21.546 (April 1866), pp.438-440. Mary Elizabeth Braddon (1835-1915) became famous for her ‘sensation’ novels, such as Lady Audley’s Secret (1862) and Aurora Floyd (1863), notorious for their shocking plot-lines and sensuous heroines. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Yonge, Charlotte Mary Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Yonge, Charlotte. The Daisy Chain, or, Aspirations: A Family Chronicle. 1856. Macmillan: London, 1879. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Macmillan Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1856 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Clare Walker Gore Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource This watercolour and chalk portrait shows a young, ringletted romantic version of Charlotte Yonge. Portrait by George Richmond (1844). Courtesy <a title="National Portrait Gallery" href="http://www.npg.org.uk/" target="_blank">National Portrait Gallery</a> under a Creative Commons License (<a title="Portrait of Yonge" href="http://www.npg.org.uk/collections/search/portrait/mw06981/Charlotte-Mary-Yonge?" target="_blank">NPG 2193</a>). Relation A related resource <ul><li> Battiscombe, Georgina, Charlotte Mary Yonge: The Story of an Uneventful Life. Constable: London, 1943. </li> <li> Chen, Mia, ‘ “And there was no helping it”: Disability and Social Reproduction in Charlotte Yonge’s The Daisy Chain’, Nineteenth-Century Gender Studies, 4.2 (Summer 2008) </li> <li> Leavis, Q.D., ‘Charlotte Yonge and “Christian Discrimination”’ Scrutiny. 12 (March 1944): 152-160. </li> <li> Sturrock, June, Heaven and Home: Charlotte M. Yonge’s Domestic Fiction and the Victorian Debate Over Women Victoria, B.C.:University of Victoria, 1995. </li> </ul> Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource Portrait of Charlotte Yonge (1844) by George Richmond. Courtesy <a title="National Portrait Gallery" href="http://www.npg.org.uk/" target="_blank">National Portrait Gallery</a> under a Creative Commons License (<a title="Charlotte Yonge Portrait" href="http://www.npg.org.uk/collections/search/portrait/mw06981/Charlotte-Mary-Yonge?LinkID=mp04969&search=sas&sText=charlotte+yonge&role=sit&rNo=0" target="_blank">NPG 2193</a>). Charlotte Yonge Class Gender Invalidism Literature Mobility Novel https://www.nineteenthcenturydisability.org/files/original/999cce7e0d14ddd37ad898e6e403bc96.jpg 7195eedfc35ffc4dcb129e6c9a92bc30 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 1860 to 1880 Description An account of the resource Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. Text Any textual data included in the document. Of course, we all know the instrument entitled the phonautograph,<a title="" href="#_ftn1">[1]</a> and these curves were drawn by an improved form of phonautograph.<a title="" href="#_ftn2">[2]</a> There was a cone into which you spoke, which condensed the air from your voice; at the small end of the cone, you had a stretched membrane, which vibrated when a sound was produced, and, in the course of its vibration, it controlled the movement of a long style of wood,<a title="" href="#_ftn3">[3]</a> about one foot in length, and those curves were drawn by the style upon a surface of smoked glass, which was dragged rapidly along. I myself uttered the vowels that are here shown, viz., e, a, eh, ah aah; these vowels were sung at the same pitch and with the same force, but you will observe that each is characterized by a shape of vibration of its own. In fact, when you come to examine the motion of a particle of air, there can be no doubt that every sound is characterized by a particular motion. [ . . . ] I attempted to construct one modelled as nearly as possible on the mechanism of the human ear, but upon going to a friend in Boston, Dr. Clarence J. Blake, an aurist, he suggested the novel idea of using the human ear itself as a phonautograph, and this apparatus we constructed together. It is a human ear. The interior mechanism is exposed, and to a part of it is attached a long style of hay. Upon moistening the membrane and the little bones with a mixture of glycerine and water, the mobility of the parts was restored, and on speaking into the external artificial ear, a vibration was observed, and after many experiments we were able to obtain tracings of the vibration on a sheet of smoked glass drawn rapidly along. Many of those were very beautiful, and I am sorry I have not any of them here to-night to show you, but as it is foreign to our subject, it is perhaps as well. I would merely direct your attention to the apparatus itself, as it gave me the clue to the present form of the telephone. <div> <h3>Notes</h3> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[1]</a> Bell is referencing Leon Scott’s 1857 invention, the phonautograph. </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[2]</a> This is an account of Bell’s 1877 Salem lectures, which explains his frequent references to visuals for the audience. The first account of these lectures appeared in the 31 March 1877 issue of Scientific American and was accompanied by pictorial illustrations. </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[3]</a> According to the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary, a style is “[a] sharp instrument or point for engraving, tracing, etc.” (3076). See “Style.” Shorter Oxford English Dictionary. 6th ed. Vol. 2. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2007. </div> </div> Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Description An account of the resource As disability theorists such as Douglas Baynton, Jonathan Rée, Lennard J. Davis, Jennifer Esmail, and Jan Branson and Don Miller explain, in both America and England in the mid-nineteenth century, attitudes toward sign language shifted: whereas in the first half of the nineteenth century, “finger speech,” as signing was sometimes called, was largely approved of as a means for deaf-mutes to be included in the Christian community, in the second half of the nineteenth century, the public began to treat deaf signers as menacing outsiders who needed to be assimilated into the larger speaking community.<a title="" href="#_ftn1">[1]</a> Oralists, those educators against signing, rejected signing as a primitive language, one that demeaned its users to the level of brutes (Rée 83). Oralist reformers thus fought for the removal of sign language from the curriculum of deaf schools and looked to emergent sound and writing technologies to help the pre-lingual deaf learn to speak English—and to speak it “properly.” In teaching the deaf to speak English, oralists sought a way to “soften” the “distasteful, loud, or harsh voices of deaf speakers” (Esmail 174). Bell’s father, Melville Bell, attempted to do so in the 1860s by developing a phonetic system of writing termed “Visible Speech.” Such a “universal alphabetics,” as he called it, was supposed to teach those with pre-lingual deafness how to properly enunciate English words by visually representing the shapes of sounds. Unfortunately for Bell, the system proved largely unsuccessful because deaf students could not hear themselves speak and therefore could not accurately reproduce sounds (Esmail 184). As a consequence of the inability of Visible Speech to narrow the divide between spoken language and its graphic representation, Alexander Graham Bell, a teacher of deaf children and an ardent oralist who fought for the eradication of sign language, determined to create a device that would serve as a feedback mechanism by visually representing the sounds that his deaf students were making, thus enabling them to check themselves against the tracings of “correct” speech sounds. With the assistance of Clarence J. Blake, an American ear specialist, Bell attempted to modify and repurpose Leon Scott’s 1857 invention, the phonautograph, a mechanism that used the principles of resonance to transcribe speech sounds (Sterne 31–36). Whereas Scott’s tool featured a membrane-like “diaphragm,” Bell and Blake’s 1874 “ear phonautograph” employed an actual human ear taken from a corpse to transduce sound waves into writing (Sterne 35, 31; Esmail 185). The deaf students’ vocal emissions, funneled through a metal mouthpiece, would vibrate the dead man’s ear, which would, in turn, activate a stylus to make tracings of the voice’s “shapes” onto smoked glass (Sterne 31). With the ear phonautograph, sound is thus experienced as disembodied—as alien to the speaker—and “heard” through the amputated organ of the corpse. As Esmail notes, “[T]he sound that is the source of these visual traces is wholly absent from both their ‘speaking’ and their visual ‘listening’” (Esmail 186). This prosthetic hearing device cleared the way for the invention of other sound technologies that treat sound as dislocated from the body in order to mechanically reproduce it. In fact, as Bell indicates in the lecture excerpted below, the telephone owes its realization to the ear phonautograph. <h3>Note</h3> <div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[1]</a> See Douglas Baynton, “‘A Silent Exile on This Earth’: The Metaphorical Construction of Deafness in the Nineteenth Century,” The Disability Studies Reader, 3rd ed. (New York: Routledge, 2010); Jonathan Rée, I See a Voice: Deafness, Language and the Senses—A Philosophical History (New York: Metropolitan Books, 1999); Lennard J. Davis, Enforcing Normalcy: Disability, Deafness, and the Body (London: Verso, 1995); Jennifer Esmail, Reading Victorian Deafness: Signs and Sounds in Victorian Literature and Culture (Athens, OH: Ohio UP, 2013); and Jan Branson and Don Miller, Damned for Their Difference: The Cultural Construction of Deaf People as Disabled, A Sociological History (Washington, D.C.: Gallaudet UP, 2002). </div> </div> Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Bell, Alexander Graham. “The Telephone.” The Musical Standard 13.698 (15 December 1877): 375–76. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1879 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Jennifer Janechek Relation A related resource <ul><li> Blake, Clarence J. “The Use of the Membrana Tympani as a Phonautograph and Logograph.” Archives of Ophthalmology and Otology 5.1 (1876): 108–13. See <a href="https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=b2c1AQAAMAAJ">https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=b2c1AQAAMAAJ</a> </li> <li> Esmail, Jennifer. Reading Victorian Deafness: Signs and Sounds in Victorian Literature and Culture. Athens, OH: Ohio UP, 2013. </li> <li> Sterne, Jonathan. The Audible Past: Cultural Origins of Sound Reproduction. Durham, NC: Duke UP, 2003. </li> </ul> Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Moncel, Count Du. The Telephone, the Microphone and the Phonograph. New York: Harper & Brothers, 1879. 45. See <a href="https://archive.org/details/telephonemicrop00moncgoog">https://archive.org/details/telephonemicrop00moncgoog</a>. Title A name given to the resource The Ear Phonautograph Deafness Prosthesis Technology https://www.nineteenthcenturydisability.org/files/original/c392364e16b17477096cb4d98a9d801e.pdf b3e3db832ed2c6354884a83d63aa0076 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Illustration of The Heir of Redclyffe by Kate Greenaway. London: Macmillan and Co., 1890, page 89. Image courtesy Clare Walker Gore. Description An account of the resource This black and white illustration shows Amy and Laura flanking Guy, wearing the fashions of the late nineteenth-century (tight skirts with a bustle on the women and a bowler hat on the man) rather than those of the mid-century when the novel was published. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 1837 to 1860 Description An account of the resource Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. Text Any textual data included in the document. “ ‘You don’t know what a bore it is to lose the one bit of quicksilver in the house!’ said he, yawning. ‘I shall only drag out my existence here till you come back.’ ‘You, Charles, the maker of fun!’ said Guy, amazed. ‘It is a case of flint and steel,’ said Charles; ‘but be it owing to who it will, we have been alive since you came here. You have taken care to be remembered . We have been studying you, or laughing at you, or wondering what absurdity was to come next.’ ‘I am very sorry—that is, if you are serious. I hoped at least I appeared like other people.’ ‘I’ll tell you what you appear like. Just what I would be if I was a free man.’ ‘Never say that, Charlie.’ ‘Nay, wait a bit. I would never be so foolish. I would not let the best hunter in the country go when I had wherewithal to pay for him.’ ‘You would not have such an ill-conditioned self to keep in rule.’ ‘After all,’ continued Charles, yawning, ‘it is no great compliment to say I am sorry you are going. If you were an Ethiopian serenader, you would be a loss to me. It is something to see anything beyond this old drawing-room, and the same faces doing the same things every day. Laura poking over her drawing, and meditating upon the last entry in Philip's memorandum-book, and Amy at her flowers or some nonsense or other, and Charlotte and the elders all the same, and a lot of stupid people dropping in and a lot of stupid books to read, all just alike. I can tell what they are like without looking in!’ Charles yawned again, sighed, and moved wearily. ‘Now, there came some life and freshness with you. You talk of Redclyffe, and your brute creation there, not like a book, and still less like a commonplace man; you are innocent and unsophisticated, and take new points of view; you are something to interest oneself about; your coming in is something to look forward to; you make the singing not such mere milk-and-water, your reading the Praelectiones is an additional landmark to time; besides the mutton of to-day succeeding the beef of yesterday. Heigh-ho! I'll tell you what, Guy. Though I may carry it off with a high hand, ‘tis no joke to be a helpless log all the best years of a man's life,—nay, for my whole life,—for at the very best of the contingencies the doctors are always flattering me with, I should make but a wretched crippling affair of it. And if that is the best hope they give me, you may guess it is likely to be a pretty deal worse. Hope? I've been hoping these ten years, and much good has it done me. I say, Guy,’ he proceeded, in a tone of extreme bitterness, though with a sort of smile, ‘the only wonder is that I don't hate the very sight of you! There are times when I feel as if I could bite some men,—that Tomfool Maurice de Courcy, for instance, when I hear him rattling on, and think—’ ‘I know I have often talked thoughtlessly, I have feared afterwards I might have given you pain.’ ‘No, no, you never have; you have carried me along with you. I like nothing better than to hear of your ridings, and shootings, and boatings. It is a sort of life.’ Charles had never till now alluded seriously to his infirmity before Guy, and the changing countenance of his auditor showed him to be much affected, as he stood leaning over the end of the sofa, with his speaking eyes earnestly fixed on Charles, who went on: ‘And now you are going to Oxford. You will take your place among the men of your day. You will hear and be heard of. You will be somebody. And I! – I know I have what they call talent – I could be something. They think me an idle dog; but what’s the good of doing anything? I only know if I was not – not condemned to – to this – this life,’ (had it not been for a sort of involuntary respect to the gentle compassion of the softened hazel eyes regarding him so kindly, he would have used the violent expletive that trembled on his lip;) ‘if I was not chained down here, Master Philip should not stand alone as the paragon of the family. I’ve as much mother wit as he.’ ‘That you have,’ said Guy. ‘How fast you see the sense of a passage. You could excel very much if you only tried.’ ‘Tried? And what am I to gain by it?’ ‘I don’t know that one ought to let talents rust,’ said Guy, thoughtfully; ‘I suppose it is one’s duty not, and surely it is a pity to give up those readings.’” Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Description An account of the resource The Heir of Redclyffe (1853) was Charlotte M. Yonge’s first bestseller, establishing her reputation as an enjoyable as well as an improving novelist; as one critic wrote nearly twenty years later, “Anything written by the author of ‘The Heir of Redclyffe’ is sure not only to find a good number of readers, but to provide them with good pabulum.”<a title="" href="#_ftn1">[1]</a> Its hero, Guy Morville, is not only a morally serious and deeply Christian young man, but also the heir to a gothic castle, a fierce temper, and an ancient feud with the other branch of the Morville family, represented by his irritatingly priggish cousin Philip. The two are brought together when Guy comes to stay with his Edmonstone cousins (with whom Philip also lives), and although Guy makes every effort at conciliation, Philip’s unacknowledged jealousy causes a rift between them. Despite Philip’s efforts to thwart their romance, Guy marries the younger Edmonstone sister, Amy – his dealings with her family highlighting Philip’s unworthy action in becoming secretly engaged to the older Edmonstone sister, Laura – but on their honeymoon in Europe, sacrifices his life by nursing Philip through a near-fatal fever. The family feud is finally settled upon Guy’s death, as Philip retrospectively recognises his true worth, and the Christian allegory of Guy’s life and death is brought out in the novel’s famously tear-jerking conclusion. Although this summary of the novel’s main action suggests that disability does not play much part in the narrative, in fact, Amy and Laura’s disabled brother, Charles, is very much at the forefront of the novel. Although he is confined to his couch as a result of his tubercular hip, he offers an amusing and insightful commentary on all the action of the novel, acting as Guy and Amy’s confidant, seeing through Philip’s pretensions to moral superiority, and modelling for the reader, through his own reaction to Guy, what we might have to gain from reading the novel. Yonge was to become famous for her saintly invalids – typified by Margaret May in The Daisy Chain – but Charles is anything but a saintly character. In contrast to Guy, he is frequently selfish, spiteful, sarcastic and impatient, but he is also capable of great loyalty, kindness and stoicism. As a sympathetic and believable character, Charles is perhaps the Edmonstone with whom the reader is most likely to identify, and Yonge offers a sensitive and realistic portrayal of his struggle to come to terms with physical impairment. Although, as in the passage below, Charles is shown to resent his physical suffering and immobility, he is shown to be a valuable member of the Edmonstone family, better able to advise his mother and sister than his impetuous and easily-led father, and he is finally shown as Amy’s closest companion in her widowhood, promising to help her bring up her daughter. Moreover, his own relationship with Guy is dealt upon at such length that it comes to seem almost as important as the marriage plot from which he is excluded. <h3>Note</h3> <div><a title="" href="#_ftnref1">[1]</a> ‘Review of The Caged Lion’, John Bull, 1870, 413–14.</div> Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Yonge, Charlotte Mary. The Heir of Redclyffe. (1853) London: Macmillan, 1888. Pages 70-71. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1853 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Clare Walker Gore Relation A related resource <ul><li> Bourrier, Karen, ‘ “The Spirit of a Man and the Limbs of a Cripple”: Sentimentality, Disability, and Masculinity in Charlotte Yonge’s “The Heir of Redclyffe”’, Victorian Review 35.2 (2009): 117-131. </li> <li> Budge, Gavin. "Realism and Typology in Charlotte M. Yonge’s The Heir of Redclyffe." Victorian Literature and Culture 31.1 (2003): 193-223. </li> <li> Wells-Cole, Catherine, "Angry Young Men: Anger and Masculinity in the Novels of Charlotte M. Yonge." In Masculinity and Spirituality in Victorian Culture. Ed. Andrew Bradstock. Basingstoke: Macmillan, 2000. </li> <li> Walker Gore, Clare. "'Setting Novels at Defiance': Novel Reading and Novelistic Form in Charlotte M. Yonge’s The Heir of Redclyffe." Nineteenth-Century Gender Studies 10.1 (2014) </li> </ul> Title A name given to the resource The Heir of Redclyffe Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource "Guy was pacing the terrace with Laura and Amabel." Illustration of The Heir of Redclyffe by Kate Greenaway. London: Macmillan and Co., 1890, page 89. Image courtesy Clare Walker Gore. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Charlotte Yonge Charlotte Yonge Invalidism Masculinity Novel https://www.nineteenthcenturydisability.org/files/original/5888cf22f9ad5b6e97955f9601128002.gif 91858a8d390aea4ac64eed699f295ab4 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Width 2914 Height 2914 Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Description An account of the resource The engraving shows Quasimodo's head emerging from Cathedral architecture, resembling a gargoyle. “Quasimodo” by Gustave Brion, engraved by Perrichon and Yon in 1836. From Notre-Dame de Paris. Oeuvres complètes illustrées. Paris: Éditions A. Michel, 1930. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource 1798 to 1837 Description An account of the resource Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. Text Any textual data included in the document. Clopin Trouillefou, who had been a candidate [for Pope of Fools] — and God knows what intensity of ugliness his features could attain — confessed himself conquered. We shall do the same: we shall not attempt to give the reader any idea of that tetrahedron nose, of that horse-shoe mouth, of that little left eye, stubbled up with an eye-brow of carotty bristles, while the right was completely overwhelmed and buried by an enormous wen<a title="" href="#_ftn1">[1]</a>; of those irregular teeth, jagged here and there like the battlements of a fortress; of that horny lip, over which one of those teeth protruded, like the tusk of an elephant; of that forked chin; and above all, of the expression, that mixture of spite, wonder, and melancholy, spread over these exquisite features. Imagine such an object, if you can. The acclamation was unanimous: the crowd rushed to the chapel. The lucky Pope of Fools was brought out in triumph, and it was not till then that surprise and admiration were at their height: what had been mistaken for a grimace was his natural visage; indeed, it might be said that his whole person was but one grimace. His prodigious head was covered with red bristles; between his shoulders rose an enormous hump, which was counterbalanced by a protuberance in front; his thighs and legs were so strangely put together, that they touched at no one point but the knees, and, seen in front, resembled two sickles jointed at the handles; his feet were immense, his hands monstrous; but, with all this deformity, there was a formidable air of strength, agility, and courage, constituting a singular exception to the eternal rule, which ordains that force, as well as beauty, shall result from harmony. He looked like a giant who had been broken in pieces and ill soldered together. When this sort of Cyclop appeared on the threshold of the chapel, motionless, squat, almost as broad as high, “the square of his base,” as a great man expresses it, the populace instantly recognized him by his coat, half red and half purple, sprinkled with silver bells, and, more especially, by the perfection of his ugliness, and cried out with one voice: “It is Quasimodo, the bell-ringer! it is Quasimodo, the hunchback of Notre-Dame! Quasimodo, the one-eyed! Quasimodo the bandy-legged! Hurrah! hurrah!” The poor devil, it seems, had plenty of surnames to choose among. (43-44) *** He held the damsel, palpitating all over, hanging from his horny hands like a white drapery; but he carried her with as much care as if he was fearful of bruising or disturbing her. He felt, you would have thought, that a thing so delicate, so exquisite, so precious, was not made for such hands as his. At times he looked as though he dared not touch her even with his breath. Then, all at once, he would clasp her closely in his arms, against his angular bosom, as his treasure, as his all, as the mother of that girl would herself have done. His cyclop eye bent down upon her, shed over her a flood of tenderness, of pity, of grief, and was suddenly raised flashing lightning. At this sight the women laughed and cried; the crowd stamped with enthusiasm, for at that moment Quasimodo was really beautiful. Yes, he was beautiful — he, that orphan, that foundling, that outcast; he felt himself august and strong; he looked in the face that society from which he was banished, and from which he had made so signal a conquest; that human justice from which he had snatched its victim; those judges, those executioners, all that force of the King’s, which he, the meanest of the mean, had foiled with the force of God! (311) <h3>Notes</h3> <div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[1]</a> A growth or tumour. </div> </div> Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Hunchback of Notre-Dame Description An account of the resource One of the most well known nineteenth-century fictional representations of disability is that of Quasimodo, the deaf and disabled bell-ringer in Victor Hugo’s 1831 historical novel, Notre-Dame de Paris. The novel quickly became immensely popular, particularly in England, with multiple editions of at least three England translations being published within ten years of its first publication. The story was as equally popular in stage and operatic adaptations in England; in fact, Edward Fitzball had adapted and produced in London two different stage versions of it —Esmeralda; or, The Deformed of Notre Dame (1834) and Quasimodo; or, The Gipsey Girl of Notre Dame (1836) — before Hugo’s own theatrical adaptation, La Esmeralda (1836), hit theatres in Paris (Szwydky 471). The novel’s immense popularity demonstrates the nineteenth-century fascination with non-normative bodies that we typically associate with Victorian freak shows. However, the novel offers a complex portrayal of disability that neither simply reduces Quasimodo’s disability to a metaphor for social problems nor wholly recognizes the social source of his impediments. Ambivalently, at times the narrator solidly blames Quasimodo’s misery on his non-normative body, making such statements as “It is certain that the spirit pines in a misshapen form” (141), but at other times attributes the fault to the social environment of medieval France instead. In the two selections from Notre-Dame below, the social environment shapes the meaning of Quasimodo’s disability in two very different ways. The first selection, in which Quasimodo is elected “Pope of Fools” for making the ugliest face at the Epiphany celebrations,<a title="" href="#_ftn1">[1]</a> shows how the social environment of the Carnival reads the grotesque in Quasimodo’s body. The second, however, in which Quasimodo has just rescued the heroine Esmeralda from execution by the King’s men, shows how the altered social environment interprets his body as sublime. <div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[1]</a> Epiphany, a Christian feast day celebrated on January 6, marks the visit of the Wise Men to the infant Jesus. </div> </div> Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Hugo, Victor. The Hunchback of Notre-Dame. 1831. Trans. Frederic Shoberl. Standard Novels No. 32. London: Richard Bentley, 1833. Available online at <a href="http://openlibrary.org/books/OL7104667M/The_hunchback_of_Notre-Dame">http://openlibrary.org/books/OL7104667M/The_hunchback_of_Notre-Dame</a> Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1831 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Kylee-Anne Hingston Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource The engraving shows Quasimodo's head emerging from Cathedral architecture, resembling a gargoyle. “Quasimodo” by Gustave Brion, engraved by Perrichon and Yon in 1836. From Notre-Dame de Paris. Oeuvres complètes illustrées. Paris: Éditions A. Michel, 1930. Relation A related resource <ul><li>Duncan, Ian. “We Were Never Human: Monstrous Forms of Nineteenth-Century Fiction.” Victorian Transformations. Ed. Bianca Trednnick. Farnham, Surrey: Ashgate Publishing Ltd., 2011. 7-27. Print.</li> <li>Joshua, Essaka. “The Drifting Language Of Architectural Accessibility In Victor Hugo's Notre-Dame De Paris.” Disability Studies Quarterly 31.3 (2011): http://dsq-sds.org/article/view/1677/1594. 14 May 2012. Web.</li> <li>Szwydky, Lissette Lopez. “Victor Hugo's Notre‐Dame de Paris on the Nineteenth‐Century London Stage.” European Romantic Review 21.4 (2010): 469-487. Online.</li> </ul> Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Hugo, Victor Cognition Literature Novel Orthopaedic Disability Victor Hugo