2 10 12 https://nineteenthcenturydisability.org/files/original/851adf33366a97e044b9fba10341e9c8.jpg 130ae5f28852cb9b0c9d70c70b5edd8e 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 781 Height 538 Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 IPTC String copyright_notice:Copyrighted work available under Creative Commons by-nc 2.0 UK, see http://images.wellcome.ac.uk/indexplus/page/Prices.html byline:Wellcome Images object_name:V0013623 School of the London Society for Teaching the Blind to headline:V0013623 School of the London Society for Teaching the Blind to Read, caption:V0013623 School of the London Society for Teaching the Blind to Read, Credit: Wellcome Library, London. Wellcome Images images@wellcome.ac.uk http://images.wellcome.ac.uk School of the London Society for Teaching the Blind to Read, Avenue Road, London: seen from the road. Coloured lithograph by E. T. Dolby, n.d., after H. E. Kendall, 1838. after: Edwin Thomas Dolby and Henry Edward KendallPublished: - Copyrighted work available under Creative Commons by-nc 2.0 UK, see http://images.wellcome.ac.uk/indexplus/page/Prices.html IPTC Array a:5:{s:16:"copyright_notice";s:123:"Copyrighted work available under Creative Commons by-nc 2.0 UK, see http://images.wellcome.ac.uk/indexplus/page/Prices.html";s:6:"byline";s:15:"Wellcome Images";s:11:"object_name";s:64:"V0013623 School of the London Society for Teaching the Blind to ";s:8:"headline";s:69:"V0013623 School of the London Society for Teaching the Blind to Read,";s:7:"caption";s:531:"V0013623 School of the London Society for Teaching the Blind to Read, Credit: Wellcome Library, London. Wellcome Images images@wellcome.ac.uk http://images.wellcome.ac.uk School of the London Society for Teaching the Blind to Read, Avenue Road, London: seen from the road. Coloured lithograph by E. T. Dolby, n.d., after H. E. Kendall, 1838. after: Edwin Thomas Dolby and Henry Edward KendallPublished: - Copyrighted work available under Creative Commons by-nc 2.0 UK, see http://images.wellcome.ac.uk/indexplus/page/Prices.html";} 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 coloured lithograph shows the School of the London Society for Teaching the Blind to Read from the road, as passerbys hurry past. The school is a stately brick building surrounded by foliage. Coloured lithograph by E. T. Dolby, n.d., after H. E. Kendall, 1838. 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. Poor Guy! He is burning as he has burnt any time since that fifth of November on which he attempted to “blow Scotchmen back to Scotland.” He is blazing in the midst of tar-barrels and brushwood. The great bonfire pouring out masses of flame and sparks—careful officer of the Fire Brigade keeping watch meanwhile—lights up an odd scene.<a title="" href="#_ftn1">[1]</a> We are in a great square on a November night, dim walls enclosing it. Rockets are shooting far into the wintry sky, Roman candles are jetting out starts of many-coloured flame. Catherine-wheels whizz round on tree trunks; squibs are spurting our their short but sparkling life; crackers banging and barking on the ground, noisy, demonstrative, and soon extinct, like fussy politicians; and, besides all theses, there is plenty of high pyrotechnic art from Mr. Brock’s<a title="" href="#_ftn2">[2]</a> famous laboratory—set-pieces, Chinese trees, fiery fountains and the like. Plenty of noise, plenty of fire, and plenty of light. Round the bonfire dance merry figures –rushing hurriedly now and then to the window whence the fireworks are liberally dealt out—exulting in the noise, the crackle, the fun generally; glorying in Guy Fawkes and his sublime cremation. They are “knowing,” these shadowy forms of boys and half-grown men. They keep the fire at a respectful distance, save when one, bolder than the rest, gives a tar-barrel a kick to bring out the sparks in golden showers. They never light their fireworks at the wrong end, as has happened to philosophers before now, but manage them deftly and skillfully. They are enjoying themselves immensely; and, as they last glorious wheel dies out, the last cracker and the last maroon explode, they open their throats with a hearty cheer—a three times three- in honour of, it may be supposed, the Protestant succession. They have thoroughly enjoyed the festival of St. Guy; and, when the embers on the fire sink low, go indoors to bed, satisfied, but not satiated, with the fun of the evening. The odd part of this fête is that the celebrants are blind—many of them wholly unconscious of the light of the day, people to whom life is one long Arctic night, unillumined by lamp or heavenly or earthly make. There are others who, although their blindness is unhappily complete enough to prevent them from distinguishing objects, yet they are dimly conscious of sunrise and sunset. The latter enjoy the fireworks keenly, perhaps more keenly than those who see perfectly; but it is difficult to understand the fun of fireworks to the utterly blind. That they produce no effect on some people, is proved by the demeanour of the industrious man, who has retreated out of the noise and bustle into a quiet corner in the dark, and is working away at basket-making as if his life depended upon getting that pretty basket, with the white and red stripes, done this very night. The glare of the bonfire, when the flames shoot up on this side, just reveals the pattern of the work on which he is busied; but he is otherwise so completely in the dark, that ordinary people can barely make out his figure in the corner. He is absorbed in his task. Great wheels spin round unheeded by the basket-maker; maroons thunder out their warning in vain. One perpetually moves his busy fingers among the osier-meshes, woven with strips red or white, selected with unerring accuracy but this one solitary man who cares not for Guy Fawkes or his fête. Alas, poor fellow! He cannot “remember the Fifth of November,”<a title="" href="#_ftn3">[3]</a> for he has never heard of that or anything else. He is not only blind, but absolutely stone deaf; yet is he a capital basket-maker; and an honest and good-honoured fellow, if you only know how to talk to him by taking one of his hands, and touching it rapidly in various parts, as Miss Quarman is now doing. He is not absolutely dumb, but articulates a few words—a very limited vocabulary—and then goes back to work with a will, ignoring the high jinks going on around him utterly and completely. But the boys who are only blind are as “jolly” as those proverbial youths whose birth or occupation is associated with “sand.”<a title="" href="#_ftn4">[4]</a> Miss Quarman and Mr. Sander have as much as they can do to distribute Roman candles, squibs, and crackers to the numerous applicants, who appear singularly well acquainted with the properties of various kinds of fireworks. It is difficult to realize that these boys are blind. When hurrying towards the window they never miss it, and, what is stranger still, never blunder over one another; and they have the keenest appreciation of the difference between a squib and a cracker. The Roman candle and the Jack-in-the-box are the prime favorites, next comes the cracker, and lastly squibs and golden rain. The triumphs of pyrotechny—set-pieces, wheels, and coloured rockets—are comparatively unheeded, a single maroon being worth a boxful of them. The boys—and, in a quiet way, the girls—of the institution in the Avenue-road, under the care of the London Society for Teaching the Blind to Read,<a title="" href="#_ftn5">[5]</a> have had a glorious holiday on this Fifth of November. There has been much fun over the dressing of the guy, and carrying him round. It was curious to see those little ones, who has not assisted in the “make up,” approach, one by one, to “look at,” as they call it—in ordinary literal English to “feel”—the guy. These young blind folk, when they touch anything, always “look at” it, and, if they have met and touched persons, say, “I saw him to-day,” in the most offhand and matter-of-course way. On the subject of blindness they are extraordinarily sensitive, and express their dislike to any questioning concerning their infirmity. Blind is, in fact, among the blind, an expression of contempt. As a rule they find their way about with remarkable skill; but should some poor awkward fellow blunder by accident over a chair or up against one of his schoolfellows, the reproof generally takes the form: “You must be blind.” Perhaps the strangest and most interesting time to see any institution for the blind is at dusk. While others are blundering and floundering about, the blind people move hither and thither noiselessly and accurately. An odd effect is felt on entering the printing-office of the school in Avenue-road, late on a winter afternoon. The house is dark, the passage is dark, the office is darker still, but there are the printers, setting up type and pulling proofs with all possible celerity and exactitude. The master printer courteously proposes to light a candle for the sake of visitors, who perhaps “cannot see very well.” […] Some odd stories are told of the basket-makers, who evince a marked preference for very sharp knives, to trim and split their osiers withal, and have a marked objection to being stared at by Philistines—that is, people who can see. At one time they were greatly annoyed, as they were in the act of soaking their osier-twigs in a tank, specially provided for that purpose, to find that there was a stranger among them, an enterprising loafer, who had climbed over the tall fence in order to have a closer view. He repented of his audacity, for the blind youths pounced on him, and ducked him in the tank till he was half-drowned. Many more curious tales are told of the blind, one of which they refuse to believe themselves—viz., the story of the girl whose fingers, having been so hardened by manual labour that she could not learn to write on the Lucasian system, learnt to read with her lips.<a title="" href="#_ftn6">[6]</a> Others they assert to be absolutely correct and trustworthy, especially a wonderful instance of sagacity in a fellow-pupil who, since she left the school—having mastered every accomplishment taught there—has married a blind husband, is an excellent housekeeper, cooks her husband’s dinner, makes and actually “cuts out,” and fits her children’s clothes, washes, starches, and irons her husband’s shirts, and plays piano like an angel. I am a person of facile faith, hating the trouble of doubting things, and therefore believe implicitly in the existence of this accomplished lady; but I feel obliged to mention, after the excellent example set by Herodotus, and followed by Sir John Maundevile, “Verilie I have not see hir.”<a title="" href="#_ftn7">[7]</a> <h2>Notes</h2> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[1]</a> For more information on Victorian Britain’s sometimes violent celebration of Guy Fawkes day and on attempts to suppress these celebrations, see J.A. Sharpe’s Remember, Remember: A Cultural History of Guy Fawkes Day (London: Harvard UP, 2005). <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[2]</a> Founded in the early 18th-century, Brock’s Fireworks, later known as C.T. Brock & Co.’s Crystal Palace Fireworks, was a fireworks manufactory located in the south of London. It was known both for the accidental explosion of its Whitechapel factory in 1825 and for holding successful fireworks displays for the public, known as Brock’s Benefits. <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[3]</a> The phrase is common in popular songs about Guy Fawkes, many of which include the refrain “Remember, remember, the fifth of November, / Gunpowder, Treason and Plot.” <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[4]</a> Sand boys transported and sold sand used for flooring and for other domestic purposes. The reference to jolly sand boys is in part a reference to Charles Dickens’ 1840 novel Old Curiosity Shop which features an inn called “The Jolly Sandboys.” <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[5]</a> The Society for Teaching the Blind to Read was founded in 1838 and was located at 1 Avenue Road, Regent’s Park, London. A Guide to the Institutions and Charities for the Blind in the United Kingdom, published in 1884, explains that the Society’s goal was “to provide instruction for the Blind in ordinary branches of Education, with music, in a resident school; also to teach them trades” (31). At the time the Guide was published, the Society had 26 females and 30 male student boarders. In “The Blind of London,” an essay published in The Times in 1860, Edmund Johnson noted that the primary object of the Society was “to teach the blind to read, with an especial view to their eventually reading the Holy Scriptures” (16). He goes on to explain that no student, no matter how eager he or she might be to “acquire knowledge of an art of a more material advantage” is permitted to “learn any of the additional branches of instruction until he or she can read tolerably well in one of the Gospels, an acquirement generally made within three months of his or her admission.” (16). The Guide to the Institutions and Charities for the Blind in the United Kingdom notes that female students were taught to knit, while male students learnt how to print books in the Lucas embossed script. Boys also learnt chair caning and basket making. <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[6]</a> The “Lucasian” system referred to here is one of many raised-print script systems developed and used in the course of the nineteenth-century to print text to be finger read by blind readers. It takes its name from its inventor, Thomas Lucas. <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[7]</a> The author uses references to <a title="Wikipedia Entry on Herodotus" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Herodotus" target="_blank">Herodotus</a>, the famously cautious ancient Greek historian, and to <a title="John Mandeville Wikipedia Entry" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Mandeville" target="_blank">John Maundeville</a>, the 14th-century world traveler, who is believed to be as mythical as the ‘facts’ about foreign places attributed to him, to express skepticism about the housekeeping and parenting abilities of a visually disabled woman. 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 Blind Guy Fawkes Description An account of the resource “Blind Guy Fawkes” is noteworthy for how it both participates in and diverges from a representational pattern. The introduction into Britain of raised-print books in the first decades of the nineteenth century and the proliferation of finger reading skills that followed resulted in both the founding of new schools and charities dedicated to the education of blind people and extensive press coverage of the accomplishments of this newly literate group. This article, which was published anonymously in Charles Dickens’ weekly family magazine All The Year Round, describes an evening visit to the London Society for Teaching the Blind to Read, a boarding school for young people with visual disabilities founded in 1839. While its author describes both the academic and vocational training provided by the Society, he or she chooses to open with and focus on the students’ rowdy celebration of Guy Fawkes’ day. Portraying a group of blind students as playful, pleasure-seeking, and energetic, the article’s author eschews the highlighting of difference, common in articles of this kind, in favor of an emphasis on experiences, aptitudes and interests that this group of blind children hold in common with sighted children. While many articles on the education of people with visual disabilities published in the period portray blind students as industrious, serious, devout and suffering, this article offers a more nuanced portrait, in large part by withholding information about the disabilities of the children being described. Information about the location of this celebration and the children’s visual disabilities is withheld for several paragraphs. It is only after describing the rowdy behavior of the children and their agility and pleasure that the author identifies them as having visual disabilities. While the article opens with an expression of pity, “Poor Guy!,” the pity expressed is for the effigy of Guy Fawkes and not for the children, who mark the anniversary of Guy Fawkes’ treason in the same spirit and in the same way as sighted children: by preparing a Guy for burning and by setting off fireworks. The result is a progressive, straightforward and positive portrait of blind children and of the everydayness of their lives. This is not to suggest that this article avoids all of the pitfalls common to the Victorian press’ handling of the experience of visual disability. The author describes visually disabled people as “people to whom life is one long Arctic night, unillumined by lamp of heavenly or earthly make,” a poetic lament of a kind common to reporting on disability. Similarly, the author’s discussion of blind people’s use of the word “see” to describe experiences of perception has a regrettable ethnographic feel. While the reporter is eager to share an anecdote that demonstrates the capabilities of a group of blind boys (a story about how they detect and punish an unwelcome sighted boy who spies on them by dunking him in a trough), he or she doubts a story that the students share about the existence of a highly successful blind housewife. While the author focuses on the experiences of students with visual disabilities, the article also caters to public fascination with the experiences of people with multiple sensory disabilities, fascination well documented by the century’s extensive press coverage of the education and lives of Laura Bridgman and Helen Keller. In this article, the author portrays a blind and deaf basket maker as a skilled and diligent workman but dwells on his isolation from fellow students and on his exclusion from the night’s celebrations. This representation of a blind and deaf person links the article to a section from American Notes (1842) in which Charles Dickens described his visit to the Perkins School for the Blind in Boston, both celebrating the accomplishments of the rapidly developing field of blind education and lamenting the presumed suffering and isolation of Laura Bridgman, the school’s star pupil. While both “Blind Guy Fawkes” and Dickens’ American Notes expressed and catered to public interest in the education of people with disabilities, they differ in their portrayal of blind children. “Blind Guy Fawkes,” with its lively descriptions of bold and boisterous children, is a reminder to modern readers that press reports on educational institutions for people with disabilities are far from homogenous in their approach to their shared subject matter. They document different facets of the lives of people with disabilities and, in doing so, they communicate different ideas about disability. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Anonymous Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived “Blind Guy Fawkes.” All the Year Round (November 25, 1876): 255-258. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 25 November 1876 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Vanessa Warne Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource A coloured lithograph shows the School of the London Society for Teaching the Blind to Read from the road, as passerbys hurry past. The school is a stately brick building surrounded by foliage. Coloured lithograph by E. T. Dolby, n.d., after H. E. Kendall, 1838. Courtesy of the <a title="Wellcome Images" href="http://images.wellcome.ac.uk/" target="_blank">Wellcome Library, London</a> under a Creative Commons License (<a title="Wellcome Library Catalogue" href="http://catalogue.wellcomelibrary.org/record=b1196471" target="_blank">Wellcome Library no. 38645i</a>). Relation A related resource <ul><li>Bourrier, Karen. “Reading Laura Bridgman: Literacy and Disability in Dickens’s American Notes.” Dickens Studies Annual 40 (Summer 2009): 37-60.</li> <li>Drew, John and Tony Williams. <a title="Dickens Journal Online" href="http://www.djo.org.uk/" target="_blank">Dickens Journal Online</a>. University of Buckingham. <http://www.djo.org.uk/> [Contains digitized versions of Household Words and All the Year Round.]</li> <li>Gitter, Elisabeth. The Imprisoned Guest: Samuel Howe and Laura Bridgman, the Original Deaf-Blind Girl. New York: Farrar, 2001.</li> <li>Johnson, Edmund C. The Blind of London. London: John Mitchell, 1860.</li> <li>Oliphant, John. Early Education of the Blind in Britain, ca. 1790-1900: Institutional Experience in England and Scotland. Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen, 2007.</li> <li>Turner, Mansfield and William Harris. A Guide to the Institutions and Charities for the Blind in the United Kingdom. London: Simpkin and Marshall, 1884.</li> <li>Warne, Vanessa. “‘So that the sense of touch may supply the want of sight’: Blind Reading in Nineteenth-Century Britain.” Media, Technology, and Literature in the Nineteenth Century: Image, Sound, Touch. Colette Colligan and Margaret Linley eds. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2011. 43-64.</li> </ul> Language A language of the resource English All the Year Round Blindness Charles Dickens Institutions Journalism life writing https://nineteenthcenturydisability.org/files/original/bc970afea3bff06562ca28f5ab36ef9b.jpg a6e4e165f595ee0dfe9a152990a6615c 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 798 Height 534 Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 IPTC String copyright_notice:Copyrighted work available under Creative Commons by-nc-nd 2.0 UK, see http://images.wellcome.ac.uk/indexplus/page/Prices.html byline:Wellcome Images object_name:N0028879 Royal Earlswood Hospital, Redhill, Surrey headline:N0028879 Royal Earlswood Hospital, Redhill, Surrey caption:N0028879 Royal Earlswood Hospital, Redhill, Surrey Credit: Niall McCrae. Wellcome Images images@wellcome.ac.uk http://images.wellcome.ac.uk Royal Earlswood Hospital, Redhill, Surrey This grand structure was designed by W B Moffatt. Originally a charitable institution, its last fifty years were served under the NHS as a hospital for the mentally handicapped. This photogrph was taken in 1997, just prior to its closure. Photograph 1997 Published: - Copyrighted work available under Creative Commons by-nc-nd 2.0 UK, see http://images.wellcome.ac.uk/indexplus/page/Prices.html IPTC Array a:5:{s:16:"copyright_notice";s:126:"Copyrighted work available under Creative Commons by-nc-nd 2.0 UK, see http://images.wellcome.ac.uk/indexplus/page/Prices.html";s:6:"byline";s:15:"Wellcome Images";s:11:"object_name";s:50:"N0028879 Royal Earlswood Hospital, Redhill, Surrey";s:8:"headline";s:50:"N0028879 Royal Earlswood Hospital, Redhill, Surrey";s:7:"caption";s:579:"N0028879 Royal Earlswood Hospital, Redhill, Surrey Credit: Niall McCrae. Wellcome Images images@wellcome.ac.uk http://images.wellcome.ac.uk Royal Earlswood Hospital, Redhill, Surrey This grand structure was designed by W B Moffatt. Originally a charitable institution, its last fifty years were served under the NHS as a hospital for the mentally handicapped. This photogrph was taken in 1997, just prior to its closure. Photograph 1997 Published: - Copyrighted work available under Creative Commons by-nc-nd 2.0 UK, see http://images.wellcome.ac.uk/indexplus/page/Prices.html";} 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 contemporary photograph shows the Earlswood Asylum, an impressive red brick building, from the road. A tree and an expanse of green lawn make up the foreground. Photograph of Royal Earlswood Hospital, Redhill, Surrey (1997) by Niall McCrae. 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. The dream of the monks and hospitallers<a title="" href="#_ftn1">[1]</a> of old has been realized—alms-giving has become an art, indeed, it may be said, a fine art. Among all the institutions of the country there are none so well organised, so liberally conducted, or so carefully and thoughtfully adapted to their purpose, as those which are designed to relieve the sufferings and mitigate the misfortunes of humanity. Here in England there is scarcely a disease either of the mind or body, scarcely even a deformity, for whose alleviation some hospital has not been provided by the inexhaustible charity of the people. And our hospitals [start 565] and asylums vie in architectural magnificence with the mansions of the rich and great. When the intelligent foreigner is making his way towards London by the South Eastern Railway, and sees on every side magnificent buildings rising majestically from woods and gardens rich in stately timber, and glowing with rare plans and flowers, he is apt to inquire the names of the great English milords who own those splendid seats. This Italian place on the left, with the British flag floating proudly from its summit. Surely this must be the residence of a royal prince? No, monseiur, it is the residence of some two or three hundred poor creatures who are suffering from incurable disease [...] Descending from the noble terrace by a flight of stone steps, I come upon the whole of the inmates of the Asylum, disporting themselves upon the lawn. They number in all three hundred and sixty-five, two hundred and sixty being males, and one hundred and five females. They are of all ages, ranging from a grey-haired old lady of sixty, to a child of five years; and of all ranks, from the sons of prosperous merchants, it may be noblemen, down to the children of poor clerks and petty tradespeople. The Asylum at Earlsowood is not absolutely a charity. All who can afford it, pay something for their maintenance, and in some instances pay handsomely. Those who cannot afford to pay are elected by the votes of the subscribers, and are maintained gratuitously. The receipts of the Asylum are thus, to a certain extent, a common fund for the support of all the inmates; although those who maintain themselves receive special advantages according to the amount of their payments. But none of the inmates, however poor they may be, are deprived of any of the essentials of comfort. A patient who pays a hundred or a hundred and fifty pounds a year may have a separate apartment and an attendant entirely to himself; but as regards the necessaries and comforts essential to health and enjoyment of life, the rich and the poor are on the same footing. I fully expected that the sight of so many idiotic creatures in a body would be exceedingly painful.<a title="" href="#_ftn2">[2]</a> It certainly was painful; but far less so than I could possibly have imagined. Contrary to my anticipation they were all clean , and neat and tidy in their dress. Moreover, the majority of them exhibited an activity of body and a cheerfulness of expression which I had never before witnessed in persons so manifestly deficient in mental power. The manifestations are very similar in all cases,--a deformed head or jaw, a wide loose mouth showing the gums, large irregular teeth, a fixed stare, and an imbecile smile that comes and goes in a mechanical manner. These peculiarities told plainly that the persons I saw before me were idiotic; but their manner and bearing conveyed no idea of their being useless and helpless. The kindly system of the institution had done its work. Many of these poor creatures, when they were first brought to Earlswood, were in a condition inferior almost to the brutes. They were confirmed in filthy habits; they were at times perfectly torpid and completely insensible. All the gates of their understanding were as firmly locked as if they had been sealed by the hand of death. They had ears and could not hear; eyes and could not see; tongues and could not speak. And now, here on this lawn, were these self-same creatures, all more or less awakened to life and understanding, running and leaping, laughing and chatting, asking and answering questions, and contending with each other in a high spirit of emulation in all kinds of games, while the workshops, the garden, and the farm offered a hundred specimens of their work in almost every department of art and industry. [...] On the reception of a pupil, the first step is to inquire from friends the history of the case, and to discover the peculiar predilection and repugnancies of the individual. Certain objective facts, as weight, height, shape, condition of the organs of sense, and powers of prehension and locomotion, are carefully registered. Then follow personal observation with comparison of habits and propensities with the accounts received from friends. These are the data for treatment, and instructions in accordance with them are given to the attendant or nurse. The first efforts are directed to the eradication of bad habits, such as tearing the clothes and wallowing in the dirt. After this, if there exist sufficient power, the pupil has proposed to him, occupations: such as unravelling coca fibre for matting, slitting rods for baskets, and the result of is labour, whatever it may be, is always received with praise instead of blame. When the pupil is indolent, morose, or stubborn, the example of good fellow-pupils is tried, and the imitation of their conduct is encouraged. If he prove incapable from low physical power, the physician's skill is exercised on diet, attention to the condition of the skin, and due medical treatment. The physical state is held to be of the greatest importance, and the appliance of gymnastic exercise is regulated by it. These exercises are first to the upper extremities, and then to the lower and the trunk, and the lessons are enlivened by music. From the examination of many hundred cases, Dr. Down has found that a malformation of the mouth and the palate is a physical characteristic of nearly all idiots. It is not surprising, therefore, that many of them are mute, semi-mute, or indistinct in utterance. But even the worst of such cases are successfully treated at Earlswood. The method pursued is curious. For example, if the sounds to be caught were those of the letter T, the teacher would first hold up a top, which the pupils are made to name collectively; then a letter, and lastly a pot. In the same manner for D, he would show pictures of a dog, a ladder, and some object coloured red. Hence, when a learner can name every object in the collection, he is able to utter the required words correctly. The result has been that many who could scarcely articulate a sound, can now speak intelligibly and with tolerable correctness. Pictures play an important part on conveying ideas to the pupils, and many of them have learned all they know from pictures. Some of them, who are incapable of reading and writing, have become expert draughtsmen, as may be seen from various specimens of their artistic works which adorn the walls of the Asylum. Another ingenious mode of conveying instruction, is by engaging the pupils in playing at shop-keeping. A counter is set out with various articles in daily use, at which a boy presides as shopkeeper, while the others come forward in turn and act as buyers. “It is most curious,” says Mr. Sidney,<a title="" href="#_ftn3">[3]</a> “to see what a puzzle it often is to find the correct weight; when it is found, the class is well questioned upon it, and, indeed, on every other weight the shopman touches, before it is put onto the scale. Then there is further perplexity in getting the correct quantity of the required substance, as, for instance, sugar, into the scale... [Omitted further description of the difficulties of weighing the goods.] All this causes a regular excitement till the due proportions are achieved; and then comes the moment of pay, which is one of great excitement, the whole class trying to check every step in the reckoning. Combinations of pence and halfpence are trying things to get over; and sometimes the purchaser who cannot calculate them uses cunning, and tries to pay with a silver coins, and asks for change, thus throwing his perplexities on the shopman.” The Asylum is at once a hospital, a school, and a workshop within; without, a gymnasium, a garden, and a farm. In the workshops the inmates practise tailoring, shoemaking, carpentering, mat-making, and the like. The clothes of the inmates and the attendants are nearly all made by imbeciles, who have learned their trades in the Asylum. They all take a great interest in their work, and are very proud of the results. Some of the lads act as cooks. On a visit to the kitchen, Mr. Sidney found twelve of the pupils, not one of whom, a year previously, could have been trusted near an oven or a fire, neatly dressed in white, helping the regular officials of the kitchen with the greatest order and zeal. One poor fellow acted as a scullery-boy, and to show how completely his heart was in his humble occupation, on being asked which he liked best, Earlswood or the establishment where he had previously been, he answered, “O Earlswood great deal;” and on being further question “Why?” added, “Because we have a bigger sink.” It should be observed, that the pupils are not forced to engage in occupations which they do not like. Each one is allowed to choose the employment for which he has a fancy. Some of them occupy themselves in drawing, and in making models and toys, simply for their own amusement. One of these, a youth of sixteen, has completed a most beautiful model of a frigate fully equipped and rigged with every rope, sail, and spar. The model of of considerable size, and is executed with marvellous neatness and skill. I was informed that the constructor had never seen a ship, and took his first notion from a picture on a pocket-handkerchief, being afterwards assisted by drawings in the Illustrated London News. In the progress of his work, he made a great discovery, namely, that boiling wood rendered it capable of being easily bent. He had never heard of this process, so that the discovery was really his own. With the permission of Dr. Down, this pupil took me to his room to show me the model His articulation was so imperfect, and his vocabulary so limited, that I could scarcely understand a word he said. He was, I was assured, a true idiot, who could scarcely read or write; yet he could draw admirably, and had made this wonderful ship. Though he could measure well, as his work testified, he had no idea of figures, or of money. I asked him how much the ship had cost him. He said, “Three thousand pounds.” The girl's side of the Asylum comprises, besides the dining-hall and dormitories, a sewing school, and a play-room. In the school the girls are taught to read by the aid of large letters chalked on black boards; they are also employed in useful work; in the afternoon they are allowed to make fancy articles which may be seen exhibited in the reception-room. In another apartment there is a baby class taught entirely by pictures. In these rooms are stands of flowers and ferns prettily arranged, rendering the place cheerful and attractive. Some of the girls have learned to read and write very well. The farm, situated at the end of the garden, gives regular employment to twelve of the inmates, and in hay and harvest time brings others from the workshops, who profit greatly by the change. Strolling into the yard, I met one of he idiot farmers dressed in a smock-frock and a wideawake hat.<a title="" href="#_ftn4">[4]</a> He certainly did not look more idiotic than some farm servants, not supposed to be deficient in mental capacity, whom I had seen outside the Asylum gates. He took me to the cow-house and showed me the cows. There were twenty of them, all in god condition and well provided with straw, and over each stall their attendant had placed a label bearing the cow's name in highly ornamental text. The lad who accompanied me was a good farmer; but a perfect idiot. He could not count the pigs in a sty, though there were barely a dozen of them; but he was a most useful member of the establishment for all that. He spoke very imperfectly. I asked him if he were happy there. He said, “Yes, very happy, but no money.” I asked him what he would do with money if he had any. He said, “Buy sweetstuff.”<a title="" href="#_ftn5">[5]</a> A friend came to see him, and he gave the friend particular instructions to send him a seed cake. The farm supplies the establishment with the whole of milk and butter consumed by the inmates of the Asylum. Amusement enters largely into the system pursued by Dr. Down. Besides the daily sports on the lawn and in the gymansium, a theatrical performance is given at Christmas, and a fête at Midsummer. The charade performances have proved highly successfull in stimulating into lasting vigour several whom it had been previously impossible to rouse from idiotic depression and apathy. The leading parts are sustained by inmates, assisted by the attendants; the scenery is painted by a youth who, though an excellent artist, is incapable of describing his work intelligibly, or of referring to it except in a jumble of incoherent words. All the woodwork is done by boys in the carpenter's shop. In all these amusements the pupils have the hearty assistance of Dr. Down and Mrs. Down, who are regarded by all in the establishment with the strongest affection. I saw many unmistakable evidences of the regard in which the doctor is held, during my visit. Whereever he appeared on the grounds, the boys and girls ran to him, to talk to him, to ask him questions, and to fondle him. The men and women attendants, too, seemed to be all favourites with the poor imbeciles. I observed no indication that any of them inspired fear. I saw one man humour a tiresome boy with the utmost patience for fully half an hour, and in the end he succeeded in diverting him from the absurd desire he wished to gratify. I do not know upon what principle the attendants are chosen, but I noticed that they were al “good looking,” which suggests the theory that good looks and a kind disposition generally go together. The inmates all like the place. Some of them who have gone home for a few weeks have expressed a desire to return to Earlswood and their friend Dr. Down, before the expiration of their leave. One boy actually packed up and walked to the Asylum, saying he could not stay away from “home” any longer. Seeing how they were surrounded by every comfort, and indulged in every way, I could not feel surprised at this; but considering the labour and patience required of those who are employed to watch and tend them, I certainly was not prepared for the statement of one of the female attendants—that she was very happy at Earlswood, that she had been there three years, and that she should not like to go to another place. It was one the fête-day that I visited Earlswood—a day long and anxiously looked forward to by all the inmates. The amusements on the lawn continued from one o'clock until dusk, consisting of cricket, croquet, Aunt Sally, racing and jumping matches, a performance of Punch and Judy, glees by the singing class, negro melodies by the Earlswood Troupe, and the ascent of a fire balloon.<a title="" href="#_ftn6">[6]</a> Under the influence of the emulation excited by the racing and jumping for prizes, ranging from a shilling to a penny, the idiotic expression vanished from the faces of the patients in a magical way. In several instances I found it difficult to say whether they were idiots or not. One lad achieved some astonishing feats in bar-jumping, trying again and again until he had accomplished his purpose. I was informed that this boy, when he first entered the Asylum, was incapable of any physical effort whatever. His energies, both mental and physical, had been roused chiefly by gymnastic exercises. In all the sports, I noticed that Dr. Down and the attendants joined on equal terms with the patients, and thus set them all perfectly at their ease. The only refractory subject was a fat boy, whose accomplishments consisted in standing on his head, and in the execution of a dance in frog fashion, which he was ready to perform any number of times on the slightest encouragement. The fat boy's idiosyncrasy was to be always out of humour and always grumbling. He was last in all the races, but would insist upon a prize; in the pole-climbing he had to be hoisted up on the shoulders of an attendant. When the attendant dropped him, he came forward to the doctor in a triumphant manner, and held out his hand for a prize. In all cases he had one. They were all extremely fond of money, but the amount was of no consequence. They were just as well pleased with a penny as with a shilling. The results of the system pursued at Earlswood are very great, very astonishing. Are they desirable? Is it incumbent upon those who have the charge of idiots, to do their utmost to rouse their dormant faculties and restore the broken and defaced image to the likeness of Him who made it? If these questions are to be answered in the affirmative, to do anything less than is done at earlswood would be to fail in a great and sacred duty. Dr. Down's system is purely one of kindness, and it was not long before I perceived that his uniform and scrupulous kindness, his minute attention to every case, his liberal employment of every means calculated to divert the mind and promote the health of the body, were the true cause of the great expense of which some persons have complained. There is no doubt that the inmates of Earlswood might be kept and maintained for considerably less money; but this could only be done by reducing the number of attendants, and the success attained, by dispensing with many sanitary precautions, by adopting mechanical restraints, and by otherwise limiting the comforts and enjoyments of the inmates. For example, I found in the grounds some twenty or thirty attendants going about among the patients, watching them without appearing to watch them, laughing and chatting, joining in their sports, and taking infinite pains to divert their minds from the particular notions which possess them. In the good old times, this was done by a third of the number of attendants; but then they saved the labour and the money of the patrons by chaining the patients to their bedsteads, by strapping them to boards, and by beating them until they were insensible. A blow is a cheap and effective quieter, there is no doubt. Dirt, filth, and unwholesome food, are also cheap, but they are nasty too, and, I trust, wholly distasteful to the humane and Christian feeling of the times in which we live. Relatively the expenses at Earlswood may be larger than absolutely necessary, but I was quite convinced from what I saw, that the system pursued by Dr. Down could not be carried out without great liberality. The number of attendants; the various workshops, with all their fittings and appliances; the schools, the play-rooms, the works of art and ornament, the organised entertainments, the cheerful gardens; are all necessary and essential to the subtle process by which these poor idiots are coaxed, and petted, and insensibly led into developing their latent faculties, and assuming, as near as possible, the attributes of useful and intelligent human beings. One item of expense may be reasonably objected to—that of the mere ornamental parts of such an edifice. It surely can never be necessary to burden a charitable institution with an enormous rent in the form of interest of capital, or an incubus in the much more depressing form of a heavy building debt. <h3>Notes</h3> <div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[1]</a> Hospitaller: According to the OED: “A member of a religious order, brotherhood, or sisterhood, formed for charitable purposes, esp. for the care of the sick and infirm in hospitals. Many such have existed from the 13th c. or earlier.” </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[2]</a> The term “idiot” as David Wright points out, was “packed with social, legal, and medical meanings,” and understanding the history of its use is part of understanding how it became a derisive term (Earlswood 10). For a history of the term “idiot” see David Wright, Mental Disability in Victorian England, pages 9-10, and Patrick McDonagh, Idiocy: A Cultural History, 12-15. </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[3]</a> Reverend Edwin Sidney, a clergyman and benefactor of the Earlswood Asylum, who watched the progress of the institution firsthand and published several accounts, including: A Visit to Earlswood Asylum (London, 1859). </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[4]</a> A “smock-frock” is a loose outer-garment worn by rural labourers, often made of hard-wearing wool or linen. A wideawake (or “wide-awake”) hat was a men's hat with a broad brim and a low crown, made of black or brown felt, reminiscent of those worn by Quakers. </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[5]</a> Men with cognitive disabilities were stereotypically thought to be unable to manage money and also to concentrate instead on gustatory pleasures, especially sweets. George Eliot's short story, “Brother Jacob,” also turns to this theme. See McDonagh, Idiocy, pages 165-168 for a reading on this topic. </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[6]</a> <a href="http://www.tradgames.org.uk/games/Aunt-Sally.htm"> Aunt Sally</a> is a throwing game where contestants try to knock over “Aunt Sally,” often a pipe. It is traditionally played in pubs or on fairgrounds. Punch and Judy is a traditional puppet show featuring Mr. Punch and his wife Judy; while there is no definitive storyline, they are often shown bickering and hitting each other with bats. A fire balloon is a nineteenth century folk toy made of tissue paper, string, and a cup with tallow and a wick; the heat from the candle would propel the balloon for thirty minutes to an hour. Unfortunately when it landed it was likely to cause a fire. </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 Happy Idiots Description An account of the resource This article, which appeared in Charles Dickens's publication All The Year Round in 1864, describes a journalist's visit to the Earlswood Asylum, the first institution for the care of the cognitively disabled in England. It was founded by J Langdon Down (now best known as the doctor who identified Down syndrome) in 1847. The term “idiot” (or sometimes “imbecile”) was commonly used to designate a person who was seen has having a permanent cognitive disability from birth or an early age. An attempt to distinguish “idiocy” legally and medically from “lunacy” was made in the Lunacy Act of 1845, which stated that an “idiot” was legally a person “whose mind from his birth by a perpetual infirmity is so deficient as to be incapable of directing him in any matter which requires thought or judgement” while a “lunatic” was legally “sometimes of good and sound memory” and sometimes not, while any other person “of morbid condition of intellect” who did not fit either of these categories was “a person of unsound mind” (quoted in Wright Earlswood Asylum 16). The need for a third category suggests that attempts to label cognitive difference were more difficult in practice than in theory, and that idiocy was not a stable or transparent category for the Victorians. In describing the conditions of the Earlswood Asylum, the journalist deploys language common to reports on other educational institutions and asylums for the physically and cognitively disabled, comparing the initial condition of the patients to one “inferior almost to the brutes” and suggesting that institutional care humanizes them. The Earlswood Asylum was not a place where patients expected to be institutionalized for life. David Wright suggests that “institutionalization, even during the so-called Victorian heyday of the asylum, was only one part of a lifelong strategy of families to care for and control their disabled family members” (Earlswood Asylum 8). Contrary to our contemporary view of cognitive disability, especially a condition like Down Syndrome, as more or less a fixed state, at the Earlswood Asylum it is taken as a mutable condition. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Andrew Halliday Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived “Happy Idiots.” All the Year Round. (23 July 1864): 564-569. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 23 July 1864 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Karen Bourrier Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource A contemporary photograph shows the Earlswood Asylum, an impressive red brick building, from the road. A tree and an expanse of green lawn make up the foreground. Photograph of Royal Earlswood Hospital, Redhill, Surrey (1997) by Niall McCrae. Courtesy of the <a title="Wellcome Images" href="http://images.wellcome.ac.uk/" target="_blank">Wellcome Library, London </a>under a Creative Commons License (<a title="Wellcome Images" href="http://wellcomeimages.org/" target="_blank">Wellcome Library No: N0028879</a>). Relation A related resource <ul><li>Drew, John and Tony Williams. <a title="Dickens Journal Online" href="http://www.djo.org.uk/" target="_blank">Dickens Journal Online</a>. University of Buckingham. <http://www.djo.org.uk/> [Contains digitized versions of the full run of Household Words and All the Year Round.]</li> <li><a title="Museum of Learning Disability" href="http://langdondownmuseum.org.uk/" target="_blank">Langdon Down Museum of Learning Disability</a>. <<a href="http://langdondownmuseum.org.uk/">http://langdondownmuseum.org.uk/</a>></li> <li>McDonagh, Patrick. Idiocy: A Cultural History. Liverpool: Liverpool UP, 2008.</li> <li>Wright, David. Downs: The History of a Disability. New York: Oxford UP, 2011.</li> <li>---. Mental Disability in Victorian England: The Earlswood Asylum, 1847-1901. New York: Oxford UP, 2001.</li> </ul> All the Year Round Charles Dickens Cognition Institutions life writing