5 10 61 https://nineteenthcenturydisability.org/files/original/2adda1e630f00e48db84953cb856a238.png f6b719fad1f7649b7e9cf12a35b53257 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. Was ever Hell conceived By mortal brain, by brain Divine devised, Darker, more fraught with torment, than the world For such as I? A creature maimed and marr’d From very birth. A blot, a blur, a note All out of tune in this world’s instrument. A base thing, yet not knowing to fulfil Base functions. A high thing, yet all unmeet For work that’s high. A dweller on the earth, Yet not content to dig with other men Because of certain sudden sights and sounds (Bars of broke music; furtive, fleeting glimpse Of angel faces ’thwart the grating seen) Perceived in Heaven. Yet when I approach To catch the sound’s completeness, to absorb The faces’ full perfection, Heaven’s gate, Which then had stood ajar, sudden falls to, And I, a‐shiver in the dark and cold, Scarce hear afar the mocking tones of men: “He would not dig, forsooth; but he must strive For higher fruits than what our tillage yields; Behold what comes, my brothers, of vain pride!” [ . . . ] <h3>EPILOGUE.</h3> We knocked and knocked; at last, burst in the door, And found him as you know—the outstretched arms Propping the hidden face. The sun had set, And all the place was dim with lurking shade. There was no written word to say farewell, Or make more clear the deed. [ . . . ] Meantime there is much talk about my friend. The women say, of course, he died for love; The men, for lack of gold, or cavilling Of carping critics. I, Tom Leigh, his friend I have no word at all to say of this. Nay, I had deem’d him more philosopher; For did he think by this one paltry deed To cut the knot of circumstance, and snap The chain which binds all being? 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 second poem in Amy Levy’s second published collection attests to her longstanding interest in mental illness. As a fin-de-siècle poet, essayist, and novelist, Levy (1861-1889) was one of the most prominent female voices for the significance of mental difference. Levy’s poetry consciously engages with a long line of mostly-male nineteenth-century authors, including Algernon Charles Swinburne, Robert Browning, and James Thomson. In doing so, she highlights earlier, less direct, engagement with mental illness that often goes unexplored. “A Minor Poet,” first published in 1884, revolves around two perspectives. Readers meet the first speaker as he begins his third suicide attempt.<a title="" href="#_ftn1">[1]</a> The first two attempts may have been unsuccessful, but he has high hopes for “luck in threes” (3). The second speaker, a friend by the name of “Tom Leigh,” appears early in the text, but readers only hear his perspective in the epilogue, when he discovers the first speaker’s remains. The excerpted passages below highlight Levy’s interest in interpretations of the non-normative mind. “A Minor Poet” considers why someone would commit suicide, how it might feel to perceive the world from within such a mind, and if it is possible to form a generalizable answer for either question. Tom Leigh underscores how much “talk” has taken place as observers try to interpret the suicide (115). Women, apparently, tend to blame personal pain, while men cite professional grievances. Even Tom begins the poem by trying to use philosophy to reason the nameless speaker out of his melancholy. In contrast, the main speaker of the poem resists the observers’ desire to pin a motivation on his suicidal intent. Instead, he focuses on sensation and how it feels to be, first, out of sync with the world and, then, to leave it entirely. The speaker teaches his readers about what it means to see, hear, touch, and desire as “[a] blot, a blur, a note/ [a]ll out of tune in this world’s instrument” (54-5). In doing so, he not only offers a window into a single mind, but also destabilizes the assumption that there must be a logical reason behind the speaker’s actions. By the end of the epilogue, it seems that Tom has come to a similar conclusion. After a list of potential reasons for his friend’s suicide, he refuses to offer his own interpretation and, instead, ends his text with a question. <div> <h3>Note</h3> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref1">[1]</a> One year before this collection, Levy published an essay entitled “James Thomson: A Minor Poet.” As such, the first speaker has been read as representing both Thomson and Levy herself. </div> </div> Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Levy, Amy. A Minor Poet and Other Verse. 1884. London: T. Fisher Unwin, 1891. Full text available at archive.org. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1884 Relation A related resource <ul><li> Hetherington, Naomi and Nadia Valman. “Introduction.” Ed. Naomi Hetherington and Nadia Valman. Amy Levy: Critical Essays. Athens: Ohio UP, 2010. 1-24. Print. </li> <li> Laird, Holly. “The Death of the Author By Suicide: Fin-de-Siecle Poets and the Construction of Identity.” Ed. Joseph Bristow. The Fin-de-Siecle Poem: English Literary Culture and the 1890s. Athens:Ohio UP, 2005. 69-100. Print. </li> <li> New, Melvyn. “Introduction.” The Complete Novels and Selected Writings of Amy Levy, 1861-1889. Ed. Melvyn New. Gainsville: University Press of Florida,1993. 1-52. Print. </li> <li> Randolph, Lyssa. “Verse or Vitality? Biological Economies and the New Woman Poet.” Ed. Naomi Hetherington and Nadia Valman. Amy Levy: Critical Essays. Athens: Ohio UP, 2010. 198-220. Print. </li> <li> Weisman, Karen. “Playing with Figures: Amy Levy and the Forms of Cancellation.” Criticism 43.1 (2001) 59-79. Print. </li> </ul> Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource The black and white photograph shows the author looking directly into the camera. It was first published in Women’s World 3 (1890): 51, with the legend “From a Photograph by Montabone, Florence.” Image Courtesy Wikimedia Commons under a Creative Commons License. Title A name given to the resource A Minor Poet Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Amy Levy Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Rachel Herzl-Betz Mental Illness Poetry https://nineteenthcenturydisability.org/files/original/cde1e133863ba0577af3cdb101bd7874.jpg d4e267a73b13d67e1c7fd0b554c82654 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 A conversation tube is a non-electric, acoustic device designed to amplify sounds for deaf or hard-of-hearing individuals and is constructed of a flexible tube with a mouthpiece at one end and an ear piece at the other. The device dates to the seventeenth-century, when Puritan couples used them to have private conversations while courting, as social customs of the day limited their interaction in presence of family members (<a href="http://wellcomeimages.org/indexplus/image/L0064953.html">Wellcome Images</a>). During the nineteenth-century, many versions of the conversation tube were manufactured for personal use. The device creates a “direct line from the hearer” who wears the earpiece, and the speaker, who spoke through the mouthpiece; the length of the tube allowed for a “polite and comfortable distance between individuals” (Church). Conversation tubes are often synonymously referred as “speaking tubes.” This particular conversation tube is one of the earliest devices at the CID-Goldstein Collection at the Bernard Becker Medical Library. It was designed and sold by Frederick C. Rein in London, who established the first commercial firm for hearing devices in 1800. The maker’s trademark is inscribed on the mouthpiece as “Rein and Son. Improved. 108 Strand, London.” A very simple design, this 56inch conversation tube is composed of an ivory mouthpiece and ear insert, with two layers of red silk woven around the coiled metal tube. Designs of conversation tube were relatively uniform. The <a href="http://phisick.com/items/ent/?s=&sub=conversation-tubes">standard design for a conversation tube</a> included ivory for the earpiece and mouthpiece, with black wool, leather or silk covering the coil. Later designs incorporated different materials for the tubes in attempts to increase hearing amplification, including: wood, rubber, or celluloid. Ornamental designs were also present in some versions that were preferred by aristocratic or fashionable users and were likely more expensive than standard designs. Some manufacturers, however, abstained from using rubber or gum solutions in their designs, in order to protect the device from climatic conditions (Hawksley). In some cases, the designs were a compromise between amplification and portability, especially as some individuals may have preferred smaller designs to be folded and carried in their pockets (Mills, 76). The length of most tubes was 88 to 176 cm, with an average price of 1 guinea for the most powerfully amplified versions (Bennion), which would enable the user to hear at least 20 to 40dB of sounds (Berger). The red silk of this conversation tube is the most striking design feature, suggesting a fashionable and feminine trait embodied into the design. Even more remarkable is the conspicuous nature of the device, suggesting that the user had no qualms about hiding her deafness. <a href="http://phisick.com/item/photograph-of-woman-with-conversation-tube/">Conversation tubes in general, were not disguised devices to be used in private</a>. To use the device, a user needed to make his or her deafness apparent, since the very nature of the device “required the presence of one other person, who might judge you on your plebeian and unattractive listening device” (Church). As the Hawksley catalog of acoustic instruments declares, “A Conversation Tube is the most useful form of instrument for severe cases of deafness, or when a person is only moderately deaf and wishes to carry on a conversation with a friend” (Hawksley). Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Jaipreet Virdi-Dhesi Relation A related resource <ul><li> Bennion, Elisabeth. Antique Medical Instruments (Berkley: University of California Press, 1979). </li> <li> Bernard Becker Library Virtual Exhibit: Deafness in Disguise: Concealed Hearing Devices of the 19th and 20th Centuries <a href="http://beckerexhibits.wustl.edu/did/index.htm">http://beckerexhibits.wustl.edu/did/index.htm</a> </li> <li> Berger, Kenneth W. The Hearing Aid, it’s Operation and Development. Michigan, USA: National Hearing Aid Society, 1970. </li> <li> Church, Joanna. “Conversation tube, circa 1900,” A Fine Collection: Blog of the Montgomery County Historical Society Maryland <a href="http://afinecollection.wordpress.com/2013/12/18/conversation-tube-circa-1900/">http://afinecollection.wordpress.com/2013/12/18/conversation-tube-circa-1900/</a> </li> <li> Gallery of Conversation Tubes, The Hearing Aid Museum: <a href="http://www.hearingaidmuseum.com/gallery/Non-Electric/ConversationTubes/index-contubes.htm">http://www.hearingaidmuseum.com/gallery/Non-Electric/ConversationTubes/index-contubes.htm</a> </li> <li> Hawksley, T. Catalogue of Otacoustical Instruments to Aid the Deaf, 3rd Edition (London: T. Hawksley, 1895). </li> <li> Koelkebeck, Mary Lou, Collen Detjen, and Donald R. Calvert, Historic Devices for Hearing: The CID-Goldstein Collection. St. Louise: The Central Institute for the Deaf, 1984. </li> <li> Mills, Mara. “Hearing Aids and the History of Electronics Miniaturization,” in Jonathan Sterne (Ed.), The Sound Studies Reader (London & New York: Routledge, 2012), 73-78. </li> </ul> Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource A conversation tube constructed with red silk, ivory mouthpiece, and ivory ear insert, made by Rein & Son. Courtesy of The Central Institute for the Deaf-Max A. Goldstein Historic Devices for Hearing Collection. Becker Medical Library, Washington University School of Medicine (VC703001). Title A name given to the resource A Red Conversation Tube Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Becker Medical Library Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource c. 1800 to 1850 Deafness Material Culture Prosthesis Technology https://nineteenthcenturydisability.org/files/original/4cd50619512b935cd2e56ad46ac87159.jpg 0a6119d4f0f4af87e16fcfa70628613b 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. “Yes, commander, I took the business [of being a tinker]. Such as it was. It wasn’t much of a beat—round Saffron Hill, Hatton Garden, Clerkenwell, Smiffeld, and there—poor neighbourhood, where they uses up the kettles till they’re past mending. Most of the tramping tinkers used to come and lodge at our place; that was the best part of my master’s earnings. But they didn’t come to me. I warn’t like [my master]. He could sing ’em a good song. I couldn’t! He could play ’em a tune on any sort of pot you please, so as it was iron or block tin. I never could do nothing with a pot but mend it or bile it—never had a note of music in me. Besides, I was too ill-looking, and their wives complained of me.” “They were mighty particular. You would pass muster in a crowd, Phil!” says the trooper with a pleasant smile. “No, guv’ner,” returns Phil, shaking his head. “No, I shouldn’t. I was passable enough when I went with the tinker, though nothing to boast of then; but what with blowing the fire with my mouth when I was young, and spileing my complexion, and singeing my hair off, and swallering the smoke; and what with being nat’rally unfort’nate in the way of running against hot metal, and marking myself by sich means; and what with having turn-ups with the tinker as I got older, almost whenever he was too far gone in drink—which was almost always—my beauty was queer, wery queer, even at that time. As to since; what with a dozen years in a dark forge, where the men was given to larking; and what with being scorched in a accident at a gas-works; and what with being blowed out of winder, case-filling at the firework business; I am ugly enough to be made a show on!” Resigning himself to which condition with a perfectly satisfied manner, Phil begs the favour of another cup of coffee. While drinking it, he says, “It was after the case-filling blow-up when I first see you, commander. You remember?” “I remember, Phil. You were walking along in the sun.” “Crawling, guv'ner, again a wall—” “True, Phil—shouldering your way on—” “In a night-cap!” exclaims Phil, excited. “In a night-cap—” “And hobbling with a couple of sticks!” cries Phil, still more excited. “With a couple of sticks. When—” “When you stops, you know,” cries Phil, putting down his cup and saucer, and hastily removing his plate from his knees, “and says to me, ‘What, comrade! You have been in the wars!’ I didn’t say much to you, commander, then, for I was took by surprise that a person so strong and healthy and bold as you was, should stop to speak to such a limping bag of bones as I was. But you says to me, says you, delivering it out of your chest as hearty as possible, so that it was like a glass of something hot, ‘What accident have you met with? You have been badly hurt. What’s amiss, old boy? Cheer up, and tell us about it!’ Cheer up! I was cheered already! I says as much to you, you says more to me, I says more to you, you says more to me, and here I am, commander! Here I am, commander!” cries Phil, who has started from his chair and unaccountably begun to sidle away. “If a mark’s wanted, or if it will improve the business, let the customers take aim at me. They can’t spoil my beauty. I’m all right. Come on! If they want a man to box at, let ’em box at me. Let ’em knock me well about the head. I don’t mind. If they want a light-weight to be throwed for practice, Cornwall, Devonshire, or Lancashire,<a title="" href="#_ftn1">[1]</a> let ’em throw me. They won’t hurt me. I have been throwed, all sorts of styles, all my life!” With this unexpected speech, energetically delivered, and accompanied by action illustrative of the various exercises referred to, Phil Squod shoulders his way round three sides of the gallery, and abruptly tacking off at his commander, makes a butt at him with his head, intended to express devotion to his service. He then begins to clear away the breakfast. <div> <h3>Note</h3> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[1]</a> These refer to “codes of rules for wrestling,” differing in from county to county (961). </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 While many of Charles Dickens’s novels and nonfiction works depicted people with disabilities, his novel Bleak House, published serially over 1852-1853 and in volume form in 1853, is veritably full of characters with bodies and minds deemed disabled due to deafness, illness, epilepsy, senility, invalidism, asthma, gout, paralysis, injuries, and disfigurations. Interestingly, Dickens’s treatment of disability in the novel is neither wholly realistic nor wholly caricaturized: at times the novel reduces disabilities to symbols of a broken social system—as is the case with Grandfather Smallweed’s deafness and paralysis and his wife’s senility—while at others it exposes how the social environment of the person with disability produces the meaning of disability—as is often the case with Phil Squod and Esther Summerson’s respective disfigurements. The selection below depicts one of the latter instances. In it, Phil Squod, who requires the support of the wall for getting around the room, describes the various injuries and events that gave him his many scars and mobility impairment. While the scarring and altered mobility originate in his working-class occupations, which might suggest symbolism of the exploitation of the working class, Phil’s description of his experience emphasizes the social interpretations of, and prejudices against, his disability, as well as his own delights in the abilities and appearance of his supposedly deficient body. Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Dickens, Charles. Bleak House. Ed. Norman Page. London: Penguin, 1971. 422-23. Print. 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 Kylee-Anne Hingston Relation A related resource <ul><li> Burgan, Mary. “Contagion and Culture: A View from Victorian Studies.” American Literary History. 14.4 (2002): 837-844. Web. </li> <li> Gurney, Michael S. “Disease as Device: The Role of Smallpox in Bleak House.” Literature and Medicine. 9 (1990): 79-92. Web. </li> <li> Michie, Helena. “‘Who is This in Pain?’: Scarring, Disfigurment, and Female Identity in Bleak House and Our Mutual Friend.” Novel 22.2 (1989): 199-213. Print. </li> <li> Montwieler, Katherine. “Reading, Sympathy, and the Bodies of Bleak House.” Dickens Studies Annual. 41 (2010): 237-263 Print. </li> </ul> Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource The illustration shows Grandfather Smallweed being carried in to a gallery, where he is met by Trooper George and his friend Phil Squod. “Visitors to the Shooting Gallery” by Hablot K. Browne. From Bleak House. London: Bradbury and Evans, 1853. Title A name given to the resource Bleak House Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Dickens, Charles Language A language of the resource English Charles Dickens Literature Mobility Novel https://nineteenthcenturydisability.org/files/original/4a9f064106917802c6e0bd7beb312f7d.jpg 8a663bb92893d0b1a640cd261e95895f 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. [T]he effectual head of the whole cretinous school [of fiction with characters with disability] is the renowned novel in which the hunchbacked lover watches the execution of his mistress from the tower of Notre-Dame;<a title="" href="#_ftn1">[1]</a> and its strength passes gradually away into the anatomical preparations, for the general market, of novels like Poor Miss Finch,<a title="" href="#_ftn2">[2]</a> in which the heroine is blind, the hero epileptic, and the obnoxious brother is found dead with his hands dropped off, in the Arctic regions.* … * The reader who cares to seek it may easily find medical evidence of the physical effects of certain states of brain disease in producing especially images of truncated and Hermes-like deformity<a title="" href="#_ftn3">[3]</a>, complicated with grossness. … In its grotesque and distorting power, it produced all the figures of the Lay Goblin,<a title="" href="#_ftn4">[4]</a> Pacolet,<a title="" href="#_ftn5">[5]</a> Flibbertigibbet,<a title="" href="#_ftn6">[6]</a> Cockledemoy,<a title="" href="#_ftn7">[7]</a> Geoffrey Hudson,<a title="" href="#_ftn8">[8]</a> Fenella,<a title="" href="#_ftn9">[9]</a> and Nectabanus<a title="" href="#_ftn10">[10]</a>; in Dickens it in like manner gives Quilp,<a title="" href="#_ftn11">[11]</a> Krook,<a title="" href="#_ftn12">[12]</a> Smike,<a title="" href="#_ftn13">[13]</a> Smallweed,<a title="" href="#_ftn14">[14]</a> Miss Mowcher,<a title="" href="#_ftn15">[15]</a> and the dwarfs and wax-work of Nell's caravan<a title="" href="#_ftn16">[16]</a>; and runs entirely wild in Barnaby Rudge<a title="" href="#_ftn17">[17]</a>, where, with a corps de drame composed of one idiot, two madmen, a gentleman fool who is also a villain, a shop-boy fool who is also a blackguard, a hangman, a shrivelled virago, and a doll in ribands—carrying this company through riot and fire, till he hangs the hangman, one of the madmen, his mother, and the idiot, runs the gentleman fool through in a bloody duel, and burns and crushes the shop-boy fool into shapelessness, he cannot yet be content without shooting the spare lover's leg off, and marrying him to the doll in a wooden one; the shapeless shop-boy being finally also married in two wooden ones. It is this mutilation, observe, which is the very sign manual of the plague; joined, in the artistic forms of it, with a love of thorniness… . The two frescoes in the colossal handbills which have lately decorated the streets of London (the baboon with the mirror,<a title="" href="#_ftn18">[18]</a> and the Maskelyne and Cooke decapitation<a title="" href="#_ftn19">[19]</a>) are the final English forms of Raphael's arabesque <a title="" href="#_ftn20">[20]</a>under this influence... . [I]t is always to be remembered that the evil and good are alike conditions of literal vision: and therefore also, inseparably connected with the state of the health. I believe the first elements of all Scott’s errors were in the milk of his consumptive nurse, which all but killed him as an infant … and was without doubt the cause of the teething fever that ended in his lameness. <div> <h3>Notes</h3> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[1]</a> Victor Hugo’s The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1831). </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[2]</a> Wilkie Collins’s Poor Miss Finch (1872). Ruskin misinterprets the death of the “obnoxious brother”: his hands did not “drop off” his body in the Arctic regions, but rather they dropped—while remaining attached to his arms—to his lap as he died. </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[3]</a> Hermes, the Ancient Greek messenger god and guide to the underworld, has no direct relation to deformity (unless in his offspring, Pan, the Panes, and the Satyri, who all had the legs and feet of goats). Ruskin refers here to Hermes’s role as a god of boundaries and to the boundary-marking "herm" statues, whose bodies were shapeless pillars with a carved head on top and an erect phallus halfway down. </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[4]</a> A page or errand boy from Sir Walter Scott’s The Lay of the Last Minstrel. </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[5]</a> A “dwarf” from Sir Walter Scott’s Kenilworth. </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[6]</a> An “imp” from Sir Walter Scott’s Kenilworth. </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[7]</a> A “goblin” and “fool” from Sir Walter Scott’s The Doom of Dervorgoil. </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[8]</a> A knighted “dwarf” from Sir Walter Scott’s Perevil of the Peak. </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[9]</a> A character, from Sir Walter Scott’s Perevil of the Peak, who pretends to be deaf and mute to spy on her employer. </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[10]</a> A “dwarf” from Sir Walter Scott’s Tales of the Crusador. </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[11]</a> A little person and villain from Charles Dickens’s The Old Curiosity Shop (1841). </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[12]</a> The illiterate, drunk rag and bottle merchant who spontaneously combusts in Charles Dickens’s Bleak House (1853). </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[13]</a> Nicholas Nickleby’s “simple-minded” best friend, who dies of consumption in Charles Dickens’s Nicholas Nickleby (1839). </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[14]</a> An elderly loan shark who is also hearing impaired and paralyzed from Charles Dickens’s Bleak House (1853). </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[15]</a> The "dwarf" beautician from Charles Dickens’s David Copperfield (1849). </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[16]</a> From Charles Dickens’s The Old Curiosity Shop (1841). </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[17]</a> Charles Dickens’s Barnaby Rudge (1841). </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[18]</a> Possibly an advertisement for Brook’s Monkey Soap, which commonly featured a monkey dressed as a man and carrying a mirror or a reflective pan. </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[19]</a> An <a title="Advertisement from British Library" href="http://www.bl.uk/catalogues/evanion/FullImage.aspx?EvanID=024-000004633&ImageId=52145">advertisement</a> for magicians John Neville Maskelyne and George Alfred Cooke in which a man holds a decapitated head over the still-living beheaded body. <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[20]</a> Grotesque architectural decorations by Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino (1483-1520). </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 theories of degeneracy<a title="" href="#_ftn1">[1]</a> gained currency in the latter part of the nineteenth century, literary critics increasingly used rhetoric of pathology (that is, of health and sickness) to discuss authors and their works.<a title="" href="#_ftn2">[2]</a> As Arata explains, critics interpreted literature deemed “degenerate” (for unsavoury topic matter, for example) as “symptom and sign of its author’s pathology” with the potential to operate as “an instrument of contagion” to its readers (“Strange Cases” 173). As apparent in the works of not just art and literary critics, but also that of psychiatrists, political theorists, scientists, and sociologists, Victorian thought interwove literature and morality with the body, often implying that the disabled or ill body manifested moral disorder. The passage below from the first instalment of “Fiction, Fair and Foul,” John Ruskin’s series of literary criticism published in The Nineteenth-Century, strikingly illustrates this rhetoric. In this piece, Ruskin complains about the Victorian fascination with the “analysis of physical corruption,” which he argues has become “the most valued material of modern fiction, and the most eagerly discussed texts of modern philosophy” (943). Ruskin believed that Victorian fiction was preoccupied with depicting scenes of death and characters with illness and disability, and that this preoccupation was caused by increased urbanization and industrialization. In the section below, the bulk of which is a footnote to a section referring to this fiction as a “cretinous school,” Ruskin argues that disabled characters are the product of the authors’s brain disease. <div> <h3>Notes</h3> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[1]</a> The theory that certain groups of people, or even society in general, were biologically, psychologically, and socially degenerating or regressing into a less civilized state. </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[2]</a> Barbara Spackman shows how this trend continued well into the twentieth century, as well, and traces the “genealogy” of the rhetoric of sickness in her book Decadent Genealogies. </div> </div> Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Ruskin, John. “Fiction, Fair and Foul.” The Nineteenth Century: A Monthly Review 7 (June 1880): 941-962. Literary Theory Full-Text Database. Cambridge: Chadwyck-Healey, 1999. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1880-1881 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Kylee-Anne Hingston Relation A related resource <ul><li> Arata, Stephen D. Fictions of Loss in the Fin de Siècle. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1996. </li> <li> ---. “Strange Cases, Common Fates: Degeneration and the Pleasures of Professional Reading.” Centuries’ Ends, Narrative Means. Ed. Robert Newman. Stanford, CA: Stanford UP, 1996. 171-190 Print. </li> <li> Holmes, Martha Stoddard. Fictions of Affliction: Physical Disability in Victorian Culture. The Corporealities Series. Ann Arbour: U of Michigan P, 2004. Print. </li> <li> Spackman, Barbara. Decadent Genealogies: The Rhetoric of Sickness from Baudelaire to D’Annunzio. Ithaca and London: Cornell UP, 1989. </li> </ul> Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource This image depicts a winged Ruskin flying over London, under the guiding star of “High Art,” sprinkling roses beribboned with the titles of his art criticism. Image Courtesy T<a title="Public Domain Review" href="http://publicdomainreview.org/2012/08/17/cartoon-portraits-of-leading-19th-century-figures-1873/">he Public Domain Review</a> under a Creative Commons License. Title A name given to the resource Fiction, Fair and Foul Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource John Ruskin Language A language of the resource English Degeneration Literature Orthopaedic Disability Ruskin https://nineteenthcenturydisability.org/files/original/c2caabd0798887c4fad9a75192b5239b.jpg a63618238cfed20de5dcf1d79630fd34 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. “All at once, I saw two figures: one a little man who was stumping along eastward at a good walk, and the other a girl of maybe eight or ten who was running as hard as she was able down a cross street. Well, sir, the two ran into one another naturally enough at the corner; and then came the horrible part of the thing; for the man trampled calmly over the child’s body and left her screaming on the ground. It sounds nothing to hear, but it was hellish to see. It wasn’t like a man; it was like some damned Juggernaut.<a title="" href="#_ftn1">[1]</a> I gave a view-halloa,<a title="" href="#_ftn2">[2]</a> took to my heels, collared my gentleman, and brought him back to where there was already quite a group about the screaming child. He was perfectly cool and made no resistance, but gave me one look, so ugly that it brought out the sweat on me like running. The people who had turned out were the girl’s own family; and pretty soon, the doctor, for whom she had been sent, put in his appearance. Well, the child was not much the worse, more frightened, according to the Sawbones;<a title="" href="#_ftn3">[3]</a> and there you might have supposed would be an end to it. But there was one curious circumstance. I had taken a loathing to my gentleman at first sight. So had the child’s family, which was only natural. But the doctor’s case was what struck me. He was the usual cut and dry apothecary, of no particular age and colour, with a strong Edinburgh accent and about as emotional as a bagpipe. Well, sir, he was like the rest of us; every time he looked at my prisoner, I saw that Sawbones turn sick and white with desire to kill him. I knew what was in his mind, just as he knew what was in mine; and killing being out of the question, we did the next best. We told the man we could and would make such a scandal out of this as should make his name stink from one end of London to the other. If he had any friends or any credit, we undertook that he should lose them. And all the time, as we were pitching it in red hot, we were keeping the women off him as best we could for they were as wild as harpies. I never saw a circle of such hateful faces; and there was the man in the middle, with a kind of black, sneering coolness—frightened too, I could see that—but carrying it off, sir, really like Satan. ‘If you choose to make capital out of this accident,’ said he, ‘I am naturally helpless. No gentleman but wishes to avoid a scene,’ says he. ‘Name your figure.’ Well, we screwed him up to a hundred pounds for the child’s family; he would have clearly liked to stick out;<a title="" href="#_ftn4">[4]</a> but there was something about the lot of us that meant mischief, and at last he struck. … “But for all that,” continued the lawyer, “there’s one point I want to ask: I want to ask the name of that man who walked over the child.” “Well,” said Mr. Enfield, “I can’t see what harm it would do. It was a man of the name of Hyde.” “Hm,” said Mr. Utterson. “What sort of a man is he to see?” “He is not easy to describe. There is something wrong with his appearance; something displeasing, something downright detestable. I never saw a man I so disliked, and yet I scarce know why. He must be deformed somewhere; he gives a strong feeling of deformity, although I couldn’t specify the point. He’s an extraordinary looking man, and yet I really can name nothing out of the way. No, sir; I can make no hand of it; I can’t describe him. And it’s not want of memory; for I declare I can see him this moment.” <div> <h3>Notes</h3> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[1]</a> “Originally a term from Hindu, in Victorian England used to denote a force that crushes people to death” (33). </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[2]</a> “A hunter’s cry when a fox has been sighted” (33). </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[3]</a> “Slang for a doctor, especially a surgeon” (33). </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[4]</a> To continue to negotiate for a better price. </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 Robert Lois Stevenson’s “shilling-shocker” novella, The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde (1886), has so thoroughly become a part of our cultural consciousness that, though not all people have read the tale, most are familiar with its title characters. One often hears the phrase “Jekyll and Hyde” applied to common temperamental behaviour and, more crudely, to types of psychiatric illness. In fact, Anne Stiles suggests that at the time of its publication, Stevenson’s depiction of one man split into two distinct persons would have born similarities to the Victorian medical concept of the “double-brained,” that is, of a dual personality caused by “a disproportionately large right brain overpowering the rational activities of the left brain” (38). While the disparate dual personalities of the title characters and the pseudo-medical transformation between them prompt medical interest, Hyde, who is thought to be a separate person from Jekyll until the last quarter of the story, and his body more directly reflect fin-de-siècle notions of disability. In Hyde, we can see both the criminalization of disability and the medicalization of crime disseminated in popular scientific theories of the time: in particular, early criminology, degeneration theory, and theories of atavism, all of which tended to argue that criminals’ bodies bore evidence of de-evolving to a primitive form of human. The novella’s narrators often describe Hyde in atavistic terms, as “troglodytic” (42), “ape-like” (42, 92), or “like a monkey” (65). In the passage below, which gives us the text’s first depiction of Hyde, a Mr Enfield describes Hyde violently injuring a child. Stevenson’s portrayal of Hyde aligns the criminal body with physicality, Hyde’s diminutive size and apparent deformity, but ambiguously does not pin down that deformity, instead making it only a suggestion, a “strong feeling” located in the observer rather than a tangible fact of Hyde’s being. The passage also notably details the violent repulsion people have to the sight of Hyde. While the various narrators of the novella presume Hyde’s inherent evil is the source of this disgust, their responses to his body align with Lennard Davis’s description of disability as “a specular moment” in which a normative-bodied observer responds to the sight of a disabled person with “horror, fear, pity, compassion, and avoidance” (12). Davis argues that these emotional responses are “a socially conditioned, politically generated response” (13); in the case of Hyde’s viewers, these responses would have been informed by popular degeneration theory. Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Stevenson, Robert Louis. The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. Ed. Martin A. Danahay. 2nd Edition. Peterborough: Broadview Press Ltd., 2005. 33-36. Print. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1886 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Kylee-Anne Hingston Relation A related resource <ul><li> Arata, Stephen D. “The Sedulous Ape: Atavism, Professionalism, and Stevenson's Jekyll and Hyde.” Criticism 37.2 (1995): 233-259. 17 Jul. 2013. Print </li> <li> Davis, Lennard. Enforcing Normalcy: Disability, Deafness, and the Body. New York: Verso, 1995. Print. </li> <li> Hurley, Kelly. The Gothic Body: Sexuality, Materialism, and Degeneration at the Fin de Siècle. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1996. Print. </li> <li> Schalk, Sami. “What Makes Mr. Hyde So Scary?: Disability as a Result of Evil and Cause of Fear.” Disability Studies Quarterly. 28.4 (2008): <www.dsq-sds.org> Web. </li> <li> Smith, Andrew. Victorian Demons: Masculinity and the Gothic at the Fin-De-Siècle. Manchester: Manchester UP, 2004. </li> <li> Stiles, Anne. Popular Fiction and Brain Science in the Late Nineteenth Century. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2012. Print. </li> </ul> Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource This double-exposed photograph by Henry Van der Weyde depicts Richard Mansfield in the dual role of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde in an early and infamous stage adaptation of Stevenson’s novella. Image in the public domain courtesy of Wikimedia Commons. Title A name given to the resource The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Robert Louis Stevenson Language A language of the resource English https://nineteenthcenturydisability.org/files/original/7816e3d4d7e51ad59b7626eece1c807d.jpg 54b9166ffbc42ea19f8cbeac79f415b1 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. (Reprinted from a London newspaper, October 7, 1887) The “Ugly Clubs,” of which particulars are to be met in “Hone’s Every-Day Book,” and like compilations, have a somewhat apocryphal air; but at last documentary evidence of the constitution and history of one of these facetious societies of the last century has been brought to light.<a title="" href="#_ftn1">[1]</a> It is an old thin volume in manuscript discovered by a Liverpool bookseller. It contains the rules, accounts, and minutes of proceedings of “The Most Honourable Society of Ugly Faces,” who appear to have been in active existence in that city at least from January 1743 to January 1754, and who were possibly the model for other like facetious societies in later days. The primary condition of membership was that the candidate should have “something odd, remarkable, droll, or out of the way in his phiz; as in the length, breadth, or narrowness thereof, or in his complexion, the cast of his eyes or make of his mouth, lips, chin, &c.”<a title="" href="#_ftn2">[2]</a> Of all this (it is added) the Majority of the Society are to judge, the President to have a casting vote. Extensive lists of names of actual members are duly entered, together with records of meetings, from which it appears that sober subjects were not excluded from their table, since on one occasion the President makes a speech “On the Declaration of War against France.” In this book there also appear minute descriptions of members. James Ashton, D.D., Chaplain to the Society, is stated to have “a fine carv’d face, Eyelashes like two Beesoms, Nose like a shuffle Nos’d Shark, a triangular Mouth, blubber Lips, Meagre Cheecks, and Eyes of a Sea-Green,” and to be “an excellently well qualified member.” Mr. John Woods, of Liverpool, architect, elected July 22, 1751, is sketched in the following flattering terms: “A stone Colour’d complexion, a dimple in his Attick Story, the pilasters of his face fluted, tortoise ey’d, a prominent nose, wild grin, and face altogether resembling a badger, and finer, tho’ smaller, than Sr Chryst. Wren or Inego Jones’s.”<a title="" href="#_ftn3">[3]</a> As there is an entry in the accounts of a payment “for five pictures of ugly faces” there may be some more convincing record still extant of the claims of these persons to figure at the gatherings at the old “Exchange Coffee House,” which place of entertainment, it seems, was their headquarters. But it has been shrewdly observed that it is not certain whether these were portraits of exceptionally ill-favoured persons, purchased for the general delight and comfort of the club. <div> <h3>Notes</h3> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[1]</a> “Hone’s Every-Day Book” was a British periodical published by William Hone in Britain in the 1820s and subtitled “A guide to the year: describing the popular amusements, sports, ceremonies, manners, customs, and events, incident to the three hundred and sixty-five days, in past and present times.” </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[2]</a> “Phiz” refers to “physiognomy,” or judging a person by their outward appearance. This practice originated in antiquity and regained popularity in the eighteenth century through theorists like Johann Caspar Lavater (who published his Essays on Physiognomy in the 1770s), often with discriminatory ends. </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[3]</a> John Woods was the architect of Liverpool’s Town Hall, and Sir Christopher Wren and Inigo Jones were renowned British architects of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. </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 Ugly Clubs reflect changing notions of deformity through the long nineteenth century, before and beyond. Ugly Clubs arose from fictional forebears in early eighteenth-century satirical periodicals in Britain, including Ned Ward’s The Secret History of Clubs and Joseph Addison’s and Richard Steele’s Spectator papers.<a title="" href="#_ftn1">[1]</a> The factual club in Liverpool, England (1743-54) reflected a number of social, political, and moral debates as it communally satirized deformity and, by extension, disability. In an era when Samuel Johnson interchangeably defined “deformity” and “ugliness” in his ground-breaking A Dictionary of the English Language, and contemporary with the artist William Hogarth’s The Analysis of Beauty, the Ugly Face Club paralleled debates about physiognomy, artistic caricature, and minority dissent toward the club’s focus on ugliness—which “doubles the Ridicule,” according to William Hay, a member of Parliament who was hunchbacked and who wrote Deformity: An Essay (1754), in which he vowed never to be a member of an Ugly Club.<a title="" href="#_ftn2">[2]</a> Like other Clubs that permeated eighteenth-century British social culture, the Ugly Face Club was a voluntary fraternal organization whose activities revolved around meeting in a coffee house, drinking ale, and singing songs. Liverpool’s “Most Honourable and Facetious Society of Ugly Faces” consisted of bachelors who banded together to satirize their “odd,” “remarkable,” and “out of the way” facial deformities, not construed as disabling. One membership rule stated that even if a candidate is “humpback’d and leg’d and posses’d of all the perfections besides of the great and immortall worthy Aesop,” he could not be admitted to the Club if he lacked the requisite facial deformities, ranging from “Blubber lips, little goggyling or squinting Eyes” to “a large Carbuncle Potatoe Nose.”<a title="" href="#_ftn3">[3]</a> Members were drawn mainly from Liverpool’s merchant class, also including doctors, ship captains, tradesmen, and the architect of the city’s Town Hall. Throughout the nineteenth century, Ugly Clubs continued to spread, with variations immigrating to America and populating colleges (including the Universities of Virginia and North Carolina), also published in periodical literatures. Perhaps more than their English forebears, Ugly Clubs at American colleges were social fraternities. Framed by the Civil War (1861-65), these satiric portraits appeared against more sobering and realistic contrasts of deformed bodies. UVA’s rituals quieted during the war, when many Americans suffered disabling, rather than amusing, deformities. The heroism or horror of war likely fit uneasily with self-ridicule and fraternal pranks, and the overriding realism and rise of naturalism likely dampened the Club’s antics. In the 1860s, European writers like George Augustus Sala and Victor Hugo mentioned Ugly Clubs, but beyond that, Ugly Clubs seemed to retreat.<a title="" href="#_ftn4">[4]</a> In the United States, so-called “Ugly Laws” (circa 1880s-1970s) attempted to prohibit individuals with physical deformities from visiting public spaces, perpetuating historic conflations of disability with ugliness.<a title="" href="#_ftn5">[5]</a> A different lineage of Ugly Clubs arose in Piobicco, Italy, which to this day celebrates a Festival of the Ugly.<a title="" href="#_ftn6">[6]</a> Throughout their history, Ugly Clubs were complexly entwined with a culture that demeaned deformity, but their communal affiliation refrained deformity that was otherwise isolating and disparaging. Via their witty self-ridicule and ridiculous rules (not to mention the projected self-respect that went with abiding by them), Ugly Clubs participated in a broader historical interrogation of humanity and disability that persists to this day. The published volume of archival papers of Liverpool’s Ye Ugly Face Clubb (1912) provides evidence of this transatlantic trend across the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, including the following excerpt dated 1887. This surviving volume is particularly interesting because it notes how Ugly Clubs made a practice “of destroying all documentary evidence of their natural gifts; for even in this MS. many pages are missing, whether by accident or design is open to conjecture.”<a title="" href="#_ftn7">[7]</a> <div> <h3>Notes</h3> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[1]</a> Ned Ward’s account or invention of the “Club of Ugly-Faces” (1709) likely inspired Joseph Addison’s and Richard Steele’s fictional Club of the same name in The Spectator papers (1711-12, 1714), including societies at Oxford and Cambridge Universities. </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[2]</a> Samuel Johnson published his first edition of <a href="https://archive.org/details/dictionaryofengl01johnuoft" target="_blank">A Dictionary of the English Language</a> in 1755. In <a href="https://archive.org/details/analysisbeauty00hogagoog">The Analysis of Beauty </a>(1753), William Hogarth identified beauty in curved or serpentine lines, which critics disparaged as his “Anti-line of Beauty” and “Line of Deformity.” See also William Hay, Deformity: An Essay, ed. Kathleen James-Cavan (Victoria, BC: English Literary Studies, University of Victoria, 2004). </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[3]</a> Edward Howell’s edition of Ye Ugly Face Clubb, Leverpoole, 1743-1753 (Liverpool, 1912), pp. 26-7. </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[4]</a> George Augustus Sala was an English journalist, and Victor Hugo was a French writer whose novels include The Hunchback of Notre-Dame and The Man Who Laughs. </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[5]</a> See Susan M. Schweik, The Ugly Laws: Disability in Public (New York: New York University Press, 2009). </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[6]</a> Rebecca Pike, “<a title="BBC" href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/3107852.stm">Italy’s ugly club defies convention</a>,” BBC News, 14 Sept. 2003. </div> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref">[7]</a> Howell, Ye Ugly Face Clubb, p. 9. </div> </div> Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Edward Howell, ed., <a href="http://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=uc1.a0000230185;view=1up;seq=19%20">Ye Ugly Face Clubb, Leverpoole, 1743-1753 </a>(Liverpool, 1912), pp. 17-19. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1887 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Gretchen E. Henderson Relation A related resource <ul><li> Clark, Peter. British Clubs and Societies: 1580-1800: The Origins of An Associational World. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000. </li> <li> Hay, William. Deformity: An Essay. Ed. Kathleen James-Cavan. Victoria, BC: English Literary Studies, University of Victoria, 2004. </li> <li> Henderson, Gretchen E. “<a href="http://books.google.com/books?id=cAtgAgAAQBAJ&pg=PT35&dq=ugly+face+club&hl=en&sa=X&ei=yjgGU92KIcaIogS-4YGQCg&ved=0CDAQ6AEwAQ#v=onepage&q=ugly%20face%20club&f=false">The Ugly Face Club: A Case Study in the Tangled Politics and Aesthetics of Deformity.</a>” Ugliness: The Non-Beautiful in Art and Theory. Eds. Andrei Pop and Mechtild Widrich. London: I.B. Tauris, 2014. pp. 17-33. </li> <li> Schweik, Susan M. The Ugly Laws: Disability in Public. New York: New York University Press, 2009. </li> </ul> Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource From an advertisement for an Ugly Face Club anniversary celebration (1806) reprinted with the frontispiece in Edward Howell’s edition of Ye Ugly Face Clubb, Leverpoole, 1743-1753 (Liverpool, 1912). Image courtesy of Gretchen E. Henderson. Title A name given to the resource Ugly Clubs Aesthetics Class Deformity Literature Visual Culture https://nineteenthcenturydisability.org/files/original/8feb11aaa8db3e33f951103a2866dd4f.jpg eefbd851a6108f0e3ee99a1a5fa9956c https://nineteenthcenturydisability.org/files/original/5f4b15379d7b2f4e0a15698d4c3f6d60.jpg 8a2f9681b2567e1939775052a4f19d7e https://nineteenthcenturydisability.org/files/original/9c991a1aa4e81e3680aa33c96fb8fc9f.jpg fcf0c15054c402295fcba950a9f86f7d 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 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. 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 1890, a 36” x 24” painting depicting Queen Victoria communicating with a deaf woman in front of a cozy hearth, was exhibited at the Edinburgh Exhibition. Titled “Royal Condescension,” this was the second of a series painted by the amateur painter William Agnew (1846-1941); each shows the Queen in various stages of conversation with a woman, but with minor differences: the 1883 version has a dog on the hearth and was shown at the Chicago World’s Fair; the 1889 version has a baby and won an award at the Edinburgh Exhibition; and the 1900 focuses only on the Queen and the woman. <a href="http://blogs.ucl.ac.uk/library-rnid/2011/12/20/deaf-artist-william-agnew/">Agnew painted</a> only two other works, “True Nobility” (1897) and “Post Office, Whippingham, I.O.W.” There is little evidence that any of these paintings survive. Born deaf and mute, Agnew received his education at an institution for the deaf in Glasgow, where he learned sign-language and fingerspelling. After leaving school, he was employed in various occupations, including as a bookbinder, printer, and writer. As a writer, he penned several articles advocating sign language in deaf schools, and condemning the implementation of oralism (educating the deaf through articulation and speech) in British schools. It was during this period that fierce debates were ranging amongst educators over the best pedagogical means for instructing deaf-mutes and on the value of sign-language for “normalizing” the deaf. In 1880, educators gathered at the International Congress on Education of the Deaf voted to ban sign language in the classroom and replace it with oral education. Although little is known about Agnew, he certainly saw oralism as a threat to his own identity and culture. He was recruited to fundraise for the building of a new Institute for Deaf and Dumb Adults in Glasgow and West Scotland that would rely on instruction through sign language. Upon exhibiting his 1889 “Royal Condescension” painting to Queen Victoria, Agnew received a generous contribution from the Queen (£50). Funds from an 1891 grand bazaar raised enough to purchase a site for the new building and Agnew was made Director of the Institution. Agnew’s “Royal Condescension” paintings are a testament to his campaigns on the importance of sign language. Queen Victoria was familiar with fingerspelling, having learned as her daughter-in-law Princess Alexandra’s hearing worsened over the years until she became deaf. According to Jennifer Esmail, Agnew’s paintings “not only depicts a unique conversation between a monarch known for her fingerspelling fluency, and one of her poor and ill subjects but also allows us a rare glimpse into the visual language of deaf Victorians” (1). The Queen spook the language of the deaf, refusing, as some accounts noted, to bring a translator. This was tremendously supportive to the manualist campaigns against oral education, for if the monarch spoke the language, why should it be an issue in the classroom? Even the woman in the painting, Mrs. Elizabeth Tuffield (neé Bective Groves, 1840-1874), gives us some insight into the lives of the Victorian deaf. The daughter of a schoolmaster on the Isle of Wright, Tuffield attended the <a href="http://jaivirdi.com/2010/06/14/the-london-asylum-for-the-deaf-and-dumb/">London Asylum for the Deaf and Dumb on Old Kent Road</a> (est.1792), one of the first schools in England for the deaf. She eventually married a bootmaker, Samuel (b.1840) in 1870, but she left him; sources indicate Samuel was abusive. The historical significance of Agnew’s “Royal Condescension” paintings is also revealed in how they were reproduced and distributed. Tracts and pamphlets were popular tools in the nineteenth century to propagate powerful visual images, especially to draw attention to a cause. They raised awareness for political or social issues, asked for contributions to fundraising campaigns, and/or merely disseminated information. As many educational asylums for the deaf in the nineteenth-century relied on donations and subscriptions, small pamphlets were often printed for fundraising, even consisting illustrations of sign language—as both information and novelty. <a href="http://blogs.ucl.ac.uk/library-rnid/2013/08/02/sign-alphabet-exhibition-royalty-and-the-deaf/">Harry Ash</a> (1863-1934) was a deaf draughtsman and designer of wallpaper who, like Tuffield, received his education from the London Asylum. In the late 1890s, he published some pamphlets on sign language, some of which were advertised in the publications of the British Deaf and Dumb Association and the British Deaf Times. In one pamphlet Ash copied Agnew’s “Royal Condescension” painting on the cover, and included the fingerspelling alphabet in the contents. Ash’s pamphlets were partly a response to his experiences at the London Asylum, where in the middle of his education, the <a href="http://blogs.ucl.ac.uk/library-rnid/2013/08/02/sign-alphabet-exhibition-royalty-and-the-deaf/">system of instruction changed</a> from sign language to the oral method, hindering his progress in learning English. Sign language was necessary and something that every Briton should learn. Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Wellcome Library, UCL Ear Institute & Action on Hearing Loss Libraries Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1800-1900 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Jaipreet Virdi-Dhesi Relation A related resource <ul><li>Beaver, Patrick. A Tower of Strength: Two Hundred Years of the Royal School for Deaf Children Margate. Sussex, England: The Book Guild, Ltd., 1992.</li> <li>Edwards, R.A.R. Words Made Flesh: Nineteenth-Century Deaf Education and the Growth of Deaf Culture. New York & London: New York University Press, 2012.</li> <li>Esmail, Jennifer. Reading Victorian Deafness: Signs and Sounds in Victorian Literature and Culture. Ohio: Ohio University Press, 2013.</li> <li>Jackson, Peter W. Britain’s Deaf Heritage. Edinburgh: The Pentand Press, Ltd., 1990.</li> </ul> Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource (1) Postcard reprint of William Agnew’s 1889 “Royal Condescension” painting. Courtesy of UCL Ear Institute & Action on Hearing Loss Libraries. (2) Postcard reprint of William Agnew’s 1900 “Royal Condescension” painting. Courtesy of UCL Ear Institute & Action on Hearing Loss Libraries. (3) “Royal Condescension” process print by Harry Ash after William Agnew, c.1890-1900. Courtesy of Wellcome Images under a Creative Commons License. Title A name given to the resource Royal Condescension Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource William Agnew Deafness Painting Visual Culture https://nineteenthcenturydisability.org/files/original/b8adb47826a9c84dcd49d446641781df.png 7a9c61fe960cf7039aaee49f26e01bc1 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. Tom was born blind, and, learning nothing from sight, manifested in his early infancy so entire a want of intellect as to induce the belief that he was idiotic as well as blind. His imbecility and helplessness secured for him the sympathy and care of the family in his infancy; when he began to walk and run about the yard, his amusing peculiarities made him a pet. His first manifestation of interest in anything was his fondness for sounds; the first indication of capacity, his power of imitating them. Musical sounds exerted a controlling influence over him; but all sounds, from the soft breathings of the flute to the harsh grating of the corn-sheller, appeared to afford him exquisite enjoyment […] The first effort to teach him was made one evening when the family was at supper, (Tom, as usual at meals times, being present,) when his owner, upon being informed that his mother, as an excuse for not teaching him something, had said he had not sense enough to learn anything, replied, “That is a mistake. A horse or a dog may be taught almost anything, provided you always use precisely the same terms to express the same idea. Show him what you mean, and have the patience to repeat it often enough. Tom has as much sense as a horse or a dog, and I will show you that he can be taught.” He thereupon arose from the table, and approaching Tom, said to him, “Tom, sit down,” Tom, of course as was expected stood still and repeated the words. He repeated the order and sat him upon the floor. He then said to him, “Tom, get up.” Tom sat still and repeated the order. He then repeated the order and lifted Tom to his feet. He then ordered Tom to sit down, which he did promptly—to get up, and he sprang to his feet […] He was perfectly delighted by cries of pain. When his mother whipped any of the older children he would laugh and caper, and rub his hands in an ecstasy of enjoyment, and soon would be found whipping himself, and repeating the words of the mother and the cries of the child. He enjoyed so highly the crying of children that he would inflict pain upon them, for the pleasure of hearing them cry; and a constant watch had to be kept on him when he was about younger children. He once choked a younger brother nearly to death, and at another time burnt an infant sister so badly as to produce fears of a fatal result. To this day any exclamation or expression indicative of pain gives him great pleasure; and though he will express sympathy for the suffered, and prescribe remedies for his relief, he cannot restrain his expressions of pleasure. Doubtless it is the strength and the intensity of expression given to sounds produced by pain, that afford the enjoyment. […] When he was three or four years of age, it was observed that he passed most of his time with his face upturned to the sun, as if gazing intently upon it, occasionally passing his hands back and forth with rapid motion before his eyes; that was soon followed by thrusting his fingers into his eyes with a force which appeared to be almost sufficient to expel the eye-balls from their sockets; from this he proceeded to digging into one of them with sticks, until the blood would run down his face. All this must have been pleasant to him, or he would not have done it; and there is no doubt that he is indebted to the stimulus thus applied to his eyes, for the measure of sight he now enjoys. […] The mere technicalities of music Tom learns without difficulty. Its substance he seems to comprehend intuitively. To teach him the notes, it was necessary only to sound them, and tell him their names. With the elements and principles of music he seems to be familiar, long before he knew any on the names by which they were indicated […] Considering that in early life he learned nothing, and later but little from sight, that he is possessed by an overmastering passion, which so pervades his whole nature as to leave little room for interest in anything else, and the gratification of which has been indulged to the largest extent, it is not surprising that, to the outside world, he should exhibit but few manifestations of intellect as applicable to any of the ordinary affairs of life, or that those who see him only under its influence should conclude that his is idiotic. 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 Thomas Greene Wiggins, better known as “Blind Tom,” was an autistic savant with an encyclopedic memory. He is known for his mind-boggling ability to replicate music and other sounds after only one hearing. Wiggins was born into slavery in Columbus, Georgia in 1848. His master, Wiley Jones, was reluctant to care for a blind infant slave and sold Wiggins to his neighbor, General Bethune. By six Wiggins had found the Bethune piano and managed to replay exactly songs performed by his white master’s family. By eight Wiggins was contracted to a traveling showman named Perry Oliver who promoted him as a “freak.” With Oliver he performed all over the United States and Europe. His extraordinary talent for imitation, music and memory earned him an invitation to play before President James Buchanan at the White House. He was the first African American musician to officially perform in the White House. Unfortunately, emancipation failed to deliver Wiggins from the shackles of slavery. His enormous fame sullied by the deep-rooted racism of the period. Audiences often confused Wiggins’s autism with “idiocy,” and reinforced the widespread belief that people of African descent were mentally inferior to whites and incapable of caring for themselves. Through “Blind Tom” we learn just how easily misinformation about autism allowed antebellum Americans to continue to conflate race with disability. Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived The Marvelous Musical Prodigy, Blind Tom: The Negro Boy Pianist, Whose Performances at the Great St. James and Egyptian Halls, London, and Salle Hertz, Paris, Have Created Such a Profound Sensation : Anecdotes, Songs, Sketches of the Life, Testimonials of Musicians and Savans, and Opinions of the American and English Press, of "Blind Tom." Sun Book and Job Printing Establishment, 1867. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1867 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource George Gordon-Smith Relation A related resource <ul><li> Davis, Rebecca Harding. “Blind Tom,” Selected Writing From the Borderlands: Stories of the Civil War Era. Eds. Sharon M. Harris and Robin Cadwallader. Athens, GA: U of Georgia P, 2010 </li> </ul><ul><li> O’Connell, Dierdre. The Ballad of Blind Tom, Slave Pianist: America’s Last Musical Genius. New York: The Overlook Press, 2009. </li> <li> Southall, Geneva Handy. Blind Tom, Black Pianist-Composer, Continually Enslaved. London: Scarecrow Press, 2002. </li> </ul> Title A name given to the resource Blind Tom Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Head and shoulders photograph of Blind Tom by John J. Bethune, 1880. Image courtesy <a title="Blind Tom Wikimedia Commons" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Blind_Tom_Wiggins.jpg">Wikimedia Commons</a> under a Creative Commons License. Blindness Celebrity Cognition https://nineteenthcenturydisability.org/files/original/0716ee2ac2a3af085eeab54188f8c9be.jpg 8e1e92cdc18d954bd8ffda527651241e 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. “It is important to society to know whether Mesmerism is true. The revival of its pretensions from age to age makes the negative of this question appear so improbable, and the affirmative involves anticipations so vast, that no testimony of a conscientious witness can be unworthy of attention. I am now capable of affording testimony; and all personal considerations must give way before the social duty of imparting the facts of which I am in possession.” “Those who know Mesmerism to be true from their own experience are now a large number; many more, I believe, than is at all supposed by those who have not attended to the subject. Another considerable class consists of those who believe upon testimony: who find it impossible not to yield credit to the long array of cases in many books, and to the attestation of friends whose judgment and veracity they are in the habit of respecting. After these there remain a good many who amuse themselves with observing some of the effects of Mesmerism, calling them strange and unaccountable, and then going away and thinking no more about them; and lastly, the great majority who know nothing of the matter, and are so little aware of its seriousness as to call it “a bore,” or to laugh at it as nonsense or a cheat.” “A besetting sickness, almost disabling me from taking food for two years, brought me very low; and, together with other evils, it confined me to a condition of almost entire stillness, — to a life passed between my bed and my sofa [. . .] From that time, I lay still; and by means of this undisturbed quiet, and such an increase of opiates as kept down my most urgent discomforts, I passed the last two years with less suffering than the three preceding. There was, however, no favourable change in the disease. Everything was done for me that the best medical skill and science could suggest, and the most indefatigable humanity and family affection devise: but nothing could avail beyond mere alleviation. My dependence on opiates was desperate.” “A few days after the arrival of my kind Mesmerist, I had my foot on the grass for the first time for four years and a half [. . .] I never before was in the open air, after an illness of merely a week or two, without feeling more or less overpowered; but now, under the open sky, after four years and a half spent between bed and a sofa, I felt no faintness, exhaustion, or nervousness of any kind” “[f]rom the early summer of 1839, I was, till this autumn, a prisoner from illness. My recovery now, by means of mesmeric treatment alone, has given me the most thorough knowledge possible that Mesmerism is true” “After my medical friend’s avowal<a title="" href="#_ftn1">[1]</a> of his hopelessness, however, I felt myself not only at liberty, but in duty bound, to try, if possible, the only remaining resource for alleviation. I felt then, and I feel now, that through all mortification of old prejudices, and all springing up of new, nobody in the world would undertake to say I was wrong in seeking even recovery by any harmless means, when other hope was given up by all: and it was not recovery that was in my thoughts, but only solace. It never presented itself to me as possible that disease so long and deeply fixed could be removed; and I was perfectly sincere in saying, that the utmost I looked for was release from my miserable dependence on opiates. Deep as are my obligations to my faithful and skilful medical friend, for a long course of humane effort on his part, no one kindness of his has touched me so sensibly as the grace with which he met my desire to try a means of which he had no knowledge or opinion, and himself brought over the Mesmerist under whom the first trial of my susceptibility was made.” “I put in a claim for my experiment being considered rational. It surely was so, not only on account of my previous knowledge of facts, and of my hopelessness from any other resource, but on grounds which other sufferers may share with me;— on the ground that though the science of medicine may be exhausted in any particular case, it does not follow that curative means are exhausted” <div> <h3>Note</h3> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref1">[1]</a> Martineau is referring to Thomas Greenhow, her physician and brother-in-law. Greenhow, according to Martineau’s personal letters, had, in the course of treating her for uterine tumours he considered incurable by traditional methods, proposed that she attempt a course of mesmerism. She writes that he introduced her to the famous mesmerist, Spenser Hall (1812-1885). However, Greenhow refuted Martineau’s claims in his <a href="http://books.google.ca/books?id=7VkXAQAAMAAJ&printsec=frontcover&source=gbs_ge_summary_r&cad=0#v=onepage&q&f=false">“Medical Report on the Case of Miss H—M—.”</a> </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 Mesmerism<a title="" href="#_ftn1">[1]</a> was the term used by Victorians for the procedure during which the practitioner, or mesmerist, would fix his or her (usually his) gaze on a subject or make passes over their body in order to treat and even cure disabilities and illnesses such as consumption, tuberculosis, rheumatism, and gout. Although many traditional physicians considered mesmerism to be quack medicine practiced by charlatans on weak and gullible patients, some lay-practitioners, radical physicians, and patients saw power in the therapy. Author and social theorist, Harriet Martineau, who had written extensively on her own deafness and invalidism, was one such proponent of the curative properties of mesmerism. She claimed that a course in mesmerism had cured her of the uterine tumours that had disabled her to the point that she had become confined to a sickroom and had produced a significant improvement in her deafness. In 1844, Martineau published a series of letters entitled <a href="http://books.google.ca/books?id=te8DAAAAQAAJ&printsec=frontcover&source=gbs_ge_summary_r&cad=0#http://books.google.ca/books?id=te8DAAAAQAAJ&printsec=frontcover&source=gbs_ge_summary_r&cad=0%23v=onepage&q&f=false">“Letters on Mesmerism”</a> in the Athenæum with the intention of educating her readers and fellow “sufferers” on the healing power of mesmerism. She hoped that her letters would confirm the scientific validity of mesmerism and that this would strengthen the movement of patients taking control over their own medical cases and assuming some of the power and authority of the medical profession. Ultimately, her candid description of her mesmerism and recovery prompted increased debate on the procedure and resulted in copious letters to her from disabled and ill persons asking for further information on her mesmerism and requests from traditional physicians seeking additional details of her recovery. However, Martineau’s publication also resulted in a barrage of disparaging responses to the Athenæum that questioned her ability to evaluate mesmerism’s effect on her health, that stated that she did not meet the intellectual conditions required to determine the efficacy of the therapy, and that implied that any beneficial results of procedures such as mesmerism reported by patients could only be called, as we would say today, a placebo effect. Martineau’s “Letters on Mesmerism” as well as the public responses to her publication are striking illustrations both of the debate between patients and physicians for authority over the disabled or ill body during the Victorian period and of Martineau’s role in this debate. <div> <h3>Note</h3> <div> <a title="" href="#_ftnref1">[1]</a> This procedure was based on the work of eighteenth-century physician, Franz Anton Mesmer (1734–1815), who called his theory “animal magnetism ” and who believed that individuals who possessed natural healing powers could harness the strength of the mind and control a fluid permeating the entire universe to cure any illness considered incurable by traditional medicine. </div> </div> Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Martineau, Harriet. “Letters on Mesmerism.” London: Athenæum. (23 November 1844): 1070-1072. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1844 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Nadine LeGier Relation A related resource <ul><li>Kaplan, Fred. Dickens and Mesmerism: The Hidden Springs of Fiction. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1975.</li> <li> Ryall, Anka. “Medical Body and Lived Experience: The Case of Harriet Martineau.” Mosaic: A Journal for the Interdisciplinary Study of Literature. 34.4 (2000): 35-53. </li> <li> Tatar, Maria. Spellbound: Studies on Mesmerism and Literature. Princeton, NJ:Princeton University Press, 1978. </li> <li> Winter, Alison. Mesmerized: Powers of Mind in Victorian Britain. Chicago: U Of Chicago P, 2000. </li> </ul> Title A name given to the resource Letters on Mesmerism Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Harriet Martineau Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource Text Language A language of the resource English Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource “Treatment of consumption and tuberculosis by mesmerism” from The Illustrated Practical Mesmerist by William Davey, c1854. Courtesy of Wellcome Images under a Creative Commons License (L0000487). Harriet Martineau Invalidism Mesmerism https://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://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://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