Abstract
In 1876, Bennett George Johns, a minister and chaplain at the school for the blind in St George's Field, published Blind People: Their Works and Ways; with Sketches of the Lives of Some Famous Blind Men. The book provided a window into the lives of the blind in Victorian England, with an emphasis on their education—or lack thereof. Johns was an observer of the blind and sympathetic to their plight. His depictions of schools were dispassionate, yet gently argued for improvement. Rather than rely on pity, he emphasized the benefits of institutionalized life and recounted the extraordinary achievements of four blind men. The creation of heroic historical figures had traditionally been employed to venerate political, military, or religious personages. Its use in shaping public perception of blindness was novel. This paper explores Johns's book as an early example of the innocent, myth-building of the blind and considers whether the process is always harmless.
Keywords
The blind continued well into the modern period without any systemic training of their mental abilities or bodily skills. They were helpless and therefore poor.—Richard French 1 (p. 58)
The very conditions under which the blind live are so extreme and startling that there has gradually been built up about them a world of … fairy stories.—Clarence Hawkes 2 (p. 3)
Introduction
In 1867, Bennett George Johns (1820–1900), a minister and eclectic author, provided a glimpse into the lives of the severely visually impaired in the book Blind People; Their Works and Ways: With Sketches of the Lives of Some Famous Blind Men. 3 The manuscript reported on the lives of blind people and described unique aspects of institutional confinement. As an advocate for the blind, Johns stressed the importance of education, particularly reading. Rather than relying on pity to advance his position on schools for the blind, he chose to demonstrate the exceptionalism of the blind when given the opportunity. He approached this by recounting the achievements of four “famous blind men.” The creation of heroic historical figures had been traditionally reserved for persons in the military, politics, or the church. Portraying disabled men as intrepid, creative, and spirited was a novel way of promoting awareness of a marginalized group. This paper examines Johns's book on blindness and the inspiring stories of four blind men whose accomplishments at times tease plausibility. Biographical portraits that read like folklore may seem benign but contemporary thinking about unintended consequences raises questions about whether heroic biographies are truly innocuous.
Bennett George Johns
Johns was the headmaster of Dulwich Grammar School in south London and Chaplain of the School for the Indigent Blind at St George's Field Southwark, London (Figure 1). 3 His wide-ranging interests were reflected in his writing, spanning from educational books for children and young adults (e.g., A History of Spain for Young Persons, 1849; Among the Butterflies: A Book for Young Collectors, 1891) to religious-social history (e.g., A Sketch of the History of the Jews from the End of the Captivity to the Coming of the Messiah, 1849; Stories of the Reformation in Germany and England, 1867). 4 His familiarity with the visually disabled came from years of service as Chaplain for the School of the Indigent Blind, where he witnessed the effects of visual sensory deprivation on its many residents.

Drawing of the School for the Indigent Blind, St. Geroge's Field, Southwark. The drawing faced the dedication page of Johns’ book citing his friendship to Edmund Charles Johnson, Esq. (Illustrated woodcut. 8 Public domain.).
The 1867 book Blind People was an expansion of a paper Johns published in 1854 in the Edinburgh Review titled “The Blind, Their Works and Ways.” 4 His nearly two decades of contact with the occupants of the School for the Indigent Blind imparted him with “a deep and unbroken interest” in their welfare. 4 (p. IX) Little is known about Johns's life beyond what can be inferred from his various writings.
Life without sight in Victorian England
Compared to other European countries, Britain had achieved a remarkable degree of stability by 1850—both politically and socially. Although not beset by the revolutions that convulsed mid-19th century continental Europe, England was uncomfortably divided by wealth and poverty, a situation aggravated by the Industrial Revolution and the lack of governmental regulation in economic affairs. The belief that poverty lies within the individual held that people control their own destinies. The conviction that self-respecting citizenship was tied to “wage work” was common among the wealthy, as was the idea that moral character and self-reliance were enough to rise out of penury. The virtue of labor, however, was prevalent beyond just the aristocracy and landed gentry. The most masterful chronicler of English privation, Charles Dickens (1812–1870), who personally experienced the cruelty of indigence as a child, saw the path out of destitution through hard work and resourcefulness. 5 The rise of urbanization and the growing awareness of physically disabled mendicants created an unavoidable quandary for the champions of Victorian self-sufficiency. How should persons who lacked sight, for example, conform to social expectations that valued self-reliance so highly?
No formal definition of blindness existed during the Victorian era (1837–1902), but the term “blind” as used by Johns usually meant the loss of useful or functional vision. Since methods of measuring and classifying subnormal vision were primitive to nonexistent at the time, the terms blind, visually impaired, and visually disabled are used interchangeably in this paper to describe blindness. The terms imply that vision was insufficient to perform basic daily activities like finding gainful employment in Victorian England. Most of the residents who lived in blind schools did so because they had no alternative. 6 Many lived in permanent “darkness” and had no future outside the institution. At the beginning of the 19th century, persons who had no functional vision fell into three groups. Some were fortunate to have families capable of caring for them and conceivably providing an education or even a trade. Those who lacked family support but were lucky enough to have acquired an occupational skill (like playing a musical instrument) might have been able to eke out a living. The rest were forced to survive as mendicants. Without sight, they were particularly vulnerable. The ancient and medieval notion that blindness was a manifestation of divine punishment was dissipating slowly. 6 The willingness of the government to assist the disabled was similarly protracted. 7 The first school for the blind in England was established in Liverpool in 1791. The school at St George's Field in Southwark came next in 1799. 8 They, along with 10 schools that existed by 1867, were chronically underfunded, being financed piecemeal by families and charities, and erratically supported by the British government into the 20th century.
Historians have portrayed the early schools for the blind as asylums.7–9 They housed and fed their wards, and taught menial crafts like making brushes, brooms, and baskets (Figure 2). Such items were sold for prices well below livable wages. The 1834 Poor Law Amendment Act provided some financial relief for families with marginal incomes but was far from sufficient to meet practical needs. Blind schools operated unregulated, and the potential for abuse was real. Civil activists portrayed them as “exile schools.” The residents they housed were forgotten members of society. Since the chances of ever leaving a school were rare, these involuntary workhouses were in a sense worse than the infamous debtors’ prisons of the era.

Basket shop in the School for the Indigent Blind with wards sitting on the floor and along the walls making baskets. The room is lit by natural sunlight and appears well-ventilated. (Illustrated woodcut. 8 Public domain.).
Preamble to famous men
In a long prelude to the biographical sketches of his famous blind men, Johns described through apocryphal stories and personal observation the extraordinary senses of touch and hearing that blind people possess. 3 (pp. 1–77) Their natural affinity for music, from sacred to the “lower-grade” tunes played on the streets, he mused, made the blind gravitate toward music. More serious topics followed, such as the isolation the blind endured within society and the perils of living outside an institutional environment. Johns asked hypothetically how might the fate of a poor blind boy change if he were brought to the school at St George's Fields?. His response was unequivocally positive. The boy would be taught a skill that improves his sense of worth and contributes materially to society. He would be safe and have companionship. An illustration of the hypothetical youngster making a basket was used to underscore the message of security and satisfaction (Figure 3). By modern standards, conditions in the school appeared dreadful, but compared to the cruelty of living on the streets in Victorian London, institutional life provided refuge. After the overview of the “works and ways” of the blind, Johns examined the social burdens of blindness.

The hypothetical blind basket-maker Johns described as benefiting from being in the school for the blind. He is clean and well-clothed, sitting alone practicing a useful trade. (Illustrated woodcut. 8 Public domain.).
At the time he was researching his book, Johns estimated that 30,000 individuals in Great Britain were blind, with “a very large proportion belong[ing] to the middle and lower classes.” 3 (p. 70) These were also the families least able to educate and train disabled children. Acknowledging that community records of vital statistics were often shabby, he discussed the prevalence of blindness throughout England, Europe, and the United States. Several observations were perceptive. He concluded that the unusually high prevalence of blindness in Ireland, for example, was possibly due to the large number of individuals affected by epidemic ophthalmia (trachoma), who were unable to leave the country (to America) during the massive immigration. The most cogent point Johns wanted to highlight, however, was that the prevalence of blindness far exceeded the availability of educational and vocational institutes at the time.
In 1861, a total of 2700 individuals were enrolled in the 12 blind schools in England. 3 (p. 76) Of these students, only 900 were under the age of 20 years, and just 760 were accommodated in public institutions. Johns found these numbers discouraging but praised the effort many schools made toward empowering students with marketable skills. Partially sighted men were trained as shoemakers, blacksmiths, and tailors. If their vision deteriorated, they were taught basket making, how to weave ropes and mats, or how to make sacks, brushes, and brooms. Women with severe visual disabilities had fewer options. Some could work as housemaids, but learning the “geography of the house” involved a talent not all girls possessed. Others could be trained as dressmakers and seamstresses, although Johns conceded that these linen garments were best worn by the girls in the institute (implying they may not have been visually appealing). 3 (p. 80) Others knitted stocks or made baskets and brooms. The whole process, he complained, was sadly undervalued since even the sighted got paid a “beggarly pittance” for long hours of labor. 10 (p. 81)
Johns's portrayal of schools focused on the goodness of work and the personal gratification it bestowed. The lack of reading material had been an unremitting problem, and the cost of books for the blind was prohibitive. After years of deliberation on how best to transfer skills to the blind, he concluded that teaching manual labor to the blind was best accomplished through segregated instruction—keeping the blind from the sighted. 10 (p. 118) Offered as a near afterthought, Johns lamented that there was yet no blind college for the “upper ranks of life.” 3 (p. 127)
From a literary perspective, Johns may have thought that something other than his analytical assessment of the social encumbrances of blindness was needed to arouse the sentiments of readers or to encourage beneficence. He eventually decided that an appropriate ending would consist of four brief biographies about the lives of “famous blind men.”
The famous blind men
The four men Johns chose to portray may have been known within select circles but were far from household names.10–13 Other than male gender, their lives were remarkably different.
Francis Huber the blind naturalist
Francis Huber (1750–1831) was born into wealth and culture.3(p. 135–148) His father, John Huber, was a physician in Geneva and a friend of Voltaire. Francis grew up exposed to music, literature, and natural philosophy. A precocious child, at the age of 15 his vision began to fail. His father sought medical opinions from the best eye doctors, but the prognosis for vision was poor. The descent into total blindness was prolonged, transpiring over the years. The nature of his vision loss was unknown, although he retained the perception of light long after functional vision had been lost. If this sensory deprivation was not painful enough, the father of his fiancé Maire Lullin refused to give his consent to marry an invalid. Undeterred, Maire waited until the legal age of majority (25 years) to marry Francis, after which she became his devoted partner and an intermediary with the visual world.
With the companionship of his wife and no financial worries, Francis pursued his interest in entomology, eventually becoming an authority on bees. 14 He constructed page-like hives for observing bee behavior; he discovered that the queen bee mated in the air rather than the hive; and confirmed the observation of a colleague that the adult destiny of eggs can be modified by food (royal jelly). His contributions to biology were comparable to that of a personal friend, Charles Bonnet, a leading figure in the field of natural science and fellow citizen of Geneva. (It is ironic that Bonnet is best known in medicine for being the first to describe the visual hallucinations associated with low vision.15) Johns presented Huber as an exemplar of courage and determination.
John Metcalf, the blind road maker
The son of a poor laborer, John Metcalf (1717−1820) went blind at the age of four from smallpox. 3 (p. 149–164) Unlike Huber, he grew up without the advantages of wealth. Johns described the young Metcalf as a boy filled with “untiring pluck and spirit.” 3 (p. 151) He played with other boys as if fully sighted, learned to swim and dive as well as his childhood companions, became a competent horseman, and learned to play the fiddle capably. It was this skill that provided Metcalf with an early income. Growing tall and strong, he became an accomplished wrestler and boxer Figure 4. He enjoyed horse racing, and soon gained experience in buying and selling horses. Metcalf fell in love with Mary Benson, the daughter of a landowner in Harrogate. Her family opposed marriage to a blind man, so the two eloped just one day before a different undesirable matrimonial union was to be forced upon her. After the outbreak of the rebellion of 1745 (Jacobite uprising), Medcalf joined the army where he served as a gun runner. His exploits, which became legendary, included capture and escape from an enemy prison and later a failed court-martial.

Bronze statue of John Metcalf in York, England. The heroic civil engineer is sitting on a bench with an arm draped over his surveying wheel. Wearing a leather hat, vest, and jacket with high knee-high boots, Metcalf projects the image of a robust working man (Photograph courtesy of David Kershaw, Wakefield Camera Club).
Following his stint in the army, Metcalf engaged in various business adventures, including horse trading between Yorkshire and Edinburgh. It was during this period he learned first-hand the poor quality of roads in England. After waging a bet he could walk from London to Harrogate faster than a man could travel in a coach, Metcalf seemed intent on improving highway travel. When Parliament authorized turnpike trusts to support road-building in 1765, Metcalf applied and received funds to do the work. A self-taught blind civil engineer, he planned, budgeted, and constructed roughly 180 miles of roadway over a period of 27 years (Figure 4). By the standards of the day, his roadways were model thoroughfares with good foundations and drainage.
John Stanley, the blind musician
John Stanley (1713–1786) sustained a lacerating injury to his right eye from a shattered China basin before the age of two. 3 (p. 165–172) The injury left a permanent disfiguring scar on the right side of his face and loss of vision in both eyes, presumably due to shards of porcelain that also penetrated the left globe. (There is insufficient information to address the possibility of sympathetic ophthalmia.13) Born and reared in London with a supportive family, Stanley started to study music at an early age. His proficiency at the organ was obvious to even casual observers. He was instructed and tutored by the best musicians in the city, including Maurice Green, the organist of St Paul's Cathedral. By the age of 11, he was chosen to be the organist at All-Hallow's Bread Street church, which provided him with a modest salary. His musical talents were not limited to the organ. While still a teenager, he aspired to conduct. Soon he led orchestras in public concerts, one of the many skills that drew the attention of notables like George Frideric Handel (1685–1759), whom Stanley later befriended.
Stanley learned to navigate the city streets of London independently and became a competent horseman. His prodigious memory not only facilitated musical performances and composition, it helped him cope with the challenges of blindness in a sighted world. To entertain friends when riding in the countryside, he would describe vistas from previously memorized geographic positions. He learned to play cards proficiently by subtly marking the corners with pin holes. How he supposedly mastered the games of billiards and skittles (bowling) was unexplained. Stanley's legacy was assured through his celebrated oratories: “Jephthia,” “Solemn Ode,” and “Zimri.”
Nicholas Saunderson, the blind mathematician
Nicholas Saunderson (1682–1737), a Lucasian Professor of Mathematics at Cambridge at the age of 30 (a position held by Isaac Newton, Charles Babbage and Stephen Hawking), was Johns's last biography. 3 (p. 174–180) Saunderson was blinded by smallpox before the age of one. He was a math prodigy who mastered algebra, geometry, and calculus seemingly on his own before contributing original work to the field of conditional probability.
Saunderson was born in Thurlstone, Yorkshire. Following smallpox his eyes became so phthisical the orbits appeared anophthalmic. He was raised in a family with limited resources. His father was a tax collector who taught his son at home, including—among other basic subjects—Latin and Greek. His father introduced him to arithmetic, having no idea of his son's aptitude for numbers. To describe Nicholas as a fast learner would be an understatement. He independently absorbed the works of Euclid, Archimedes, and Newton. Many blind were able to perform basic arithmetic calculations using special boards with pentagonal holes and pegs with differing surface contours. They took time and practice to master, but the boards Saunderson developed for his calculations were “a far more complicated affair,” which Johns confessed he was unqualified to explain. 3 (p. 14) When Joshua Dunn, a fellow of Christ's College, learned of this blind savant, he took him to Cambridge to further his opportunities. Even among the great minds of the university, Saunderson stood out. In 1711, Queen Anne was asked to intervene on his behalf, conferring upon him the Masters of Arts degree so he would then qualify for a professorship.
Unlike the previous bio-sketches, Johns expressed his disapproval of Saunderson even though he praised him for overcoming the hardship of blindness. In the last paragraph, he maligns the math professor for his lack “of love and living faith.” 3 (p. 180) This cruel judgment was based on Saunderson's perceived absence of religious faith. The reason for Johns's misgiving about his rectitude has been traced to a monograph written by Denis Diderot, chief editor of the Encyclopédie. 16 In that Letter on the Blind, Diderot reported that Saunderson confessed on his deathbed his lack of faith, although the episode was probably invented.17,18 For Johns, however, such a rumor was plausible and something he could never overlook.
Johns's modest summary
Johns's formal conclusion was not a deductive summary or a synopsis of his work but instead, a brief optimistic prediction that science and technology should one day improve the lives of the blind through advances in embossed printing and making books more affordable. The need of books for the blind had been advanced several times in the text and was stressed again in Johns's final words. There was no call for financial support or recommendation that Parliament do more.
Critique of famous blind men
What might have been the purpose of recounting the exalted lives of four blind men after describing the dismal conditions under which many blind persons in England lived during the Victorian era? One reason may have been to entice potential benefactors to financially contribute to schools for the blind, particularly for the purchase of books. Johns placed a priority on learning from books, especially biblical experiences. If exalted stories about the blind was the means he needed to loosen the purse strings of the wealthy, it would be for a good cause and the clever use of glorified biography.
Heroic biography is a loose intellectual construct that describes personal portraits designed to elevate the character or accomplishments of individuals beyond that which seems believable. Heroic portraits have played roles in fostering the images of political, military, and religious personalities but have been rarely employed to promote the welfare of disabled or marginalized people.19,20 Heroic figures generally differ from the mythologic by being real, although the adjective mythological has been used as a pejorative when discussing historical individuals. When heroic biography crosses into the realm of propaganda, its potential adverse effects are apparent. Although the glorification of blind men may seem innocent, some contemporary scholars suggest it is not completely harmless.
Johns's four famous blind men were inspirational figures, showing the potential of the human spirit to rise above adversity. Heroic biographies are used to invoke veneration and admiration, and to do this they usually ignore personal imperfections, avoid detailed accounts of how achievements transpired, and fail to credit supporting staff. Johns followed this formula. In the case of Saunderson, however, he felt compelled to denigrate the math professor because of his presumed loss of religious faith. This may have been a strategic marketing decision considering who his potential donors at the time might be.
Myth-building biographies tend to selectively describe laudable achievements without providing sufficient context to confirm their veracity. Can a blind man truly compete at billiards, or was it folklore or hearsay? Can a blind man really function as a surveyor and perform the host of vision-demanding tasks required to run a business without assistants? Did others really perform some or many of the tasks we are led to believe were done by blind men? Is critical information not being reported due to concerns it would diminish the grandeur of stories? Some have argued, for example, that the role of Ann Sullivan, the teacher and life-long assistant of legendary Helen Keller, was purposely downplayed to elevate the accomplishments of her famed student. 21
Johns's choices of famous blind men begs another question: why did he omit the most famous of all blind Englishmen—John Milton (1608−1674)? The greatest English poet next to Shakespeare, Milton was mentioned several times in the prelude to the biographies, yet not included among them. The poet had gone blind by age 43 and most of his loftiest accomplishments occurred after that. Johns may have had several reasons not to delve into Milton's life. First, most educated Englishmen knew Milton had staunchly defended the execution of King Charles I (supported the regicide) and was a confidant and secretary to Oliver Cromwell during the Commonwealth. 22 (p. v–xviii) He also passionately defended the right of spousal divorce and wavered in his position on religious salvation. Though fortunate to escape punishment after the Restoration, Milton's strongly held political and religious opinions would have likely antagonized the potential pool of benefactors Johns was petitioning.
In modern times, heroic figures and celebrities are often employed as fundraisers for everything from war bonds to disaster relief. Though the distinction between hero and celebrity has become hopelessly blurred, fundraising for institutions dealing with blindness could hardly hope to find a blind celebrity for support. One rare exception was Helen Keller, the blind and deaf girl who overcame profound sensory deprivation to become an American luminary.23,24
James W. Loewen, Professor Emeritus at the University of Vermont, is an outspoken opponent of modern heroification, which he described as “a degenerative process (much like calcification) that makes people over into heroes.” 25 (p. 11) In less flowery language, he considered it biased historiography, intellectually dishonest, and akin to propaganda. Loewen discussed the detrimental effects that noncritical biography has had on the education of Americans, citing narratives on political leaders as prime examples. But Loewen also explored the negative impact that slanted historiography has had in America using the fabled Helen Keller as a case in point. In her example, Loewen related the relatively unknown side of her life as a social activist, who supported women's suffrage and racial equality.21,26–28 Could Keller have become a celebrated icon if her support for the American Civil Liberties Union and the National Association for the Advancement of Color People been widely known? The rhetorical question has no correct answer but many might contemplate no. And, as already mentioned, some find Keller's rising stardom came at the expense of her gifted teacher Ann Sullivan.21,28
Although Loewen's critique of heroic adoration may appear academic, a more understandable downside of heroification in the context of visual disability occurs when it creates unrealistic expectations. Johns's famous men were indeed remarkable (and talented), but their achievements would not have likely occurred were it not for fortuitous timing, luck, or external factors over which most people have no control. Georgina Kleege, who was born blind in 1956 and was often compared to the renowned Helen Keller when growing up, found living up to her achievements was frustrating. 29 Kleege recounts the exasperation and anger she experienced when falling short of this mythical individual. Far from inspirational, the accomplishments of gifted persons may set unrealistic goals for ordinary people. 30
Another interpretation of uplifting stories about the blind regards them as “inspirational porn,” a derogatory term for achievement-centered biographies designed to make sighted people feel grateful for their vision. 18 This cynical assessment illustrates how difficult it is to construct narratives about blindness that balances the complexities and reality of living in a world for the sighted.
Conclusions
Johns's depiction of life within English schools for the blind reflected traditional thinking about Victorian self-reliance and parliamentary detachment from public welfare. Though he failed to explore human interactions within the institution or the impact that long-term confinement, isolation, and boredom might have on mental well-being, his general analysis of the social burdens of blindness in England and Europe was objective and impartial. The transition to biographical sketches of famous blind men, however, departed from factual analysis to enumerate the extraordinary accomplishments of four men but without meaningful scrutiny. These biographies were likely designed to garner financial support for blind schools, an innocent if not honorable endeavor. Yet some contemporary critics might argue that one-sided biographies are mawkish, disingenuous, and distort reality. One ponders whether Johns could have been more successful in fund-raising had he followed the literary example of fellow countryman Charles Dickens, by portraying instead the wretched living conditions found in Victorian asylums for the blind.
Footnotes
Declaration of conflicting interests
The authors declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The authors received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
