Between 1841 and 1842 the names of 648 women were entered into the admissions registers of the Salpêtrière, of this number only seven were diagnosed as hysteric or as having hysterical symptoms. Between 1882 and 1883, eighty-nine women of the 500 who were admitted in those years were diagnosed as hysteric. These figures justify the naming of the fin-de-siècle as the “golden age” of hysteria. This increase in hysteria diagnosis did not only occur in France, but also across Europe and America.[1] In nineteenth-century France sexuality and madness shifted from the male to the female body. The male body was appropriate for images associated with war and politics, yet in post-Revolutionary and industrial France, with the focus on pleasure, fantasy and commodity, the female body was a more appropriate means of representation. Women’s ideological limits were re-defined, resulting in an uncomfortable presence of women within the public sphere. Women existing on the borderline between public and private realms produced an anxiety in men over the preservation of patriarchal conventions. In order to maintain male dominance, women had to be contained. This was partly achieved through a representation of women that defined them as hysterical, irrational and chaotic. The mad, sexualised image of the hysteric completed the creation of woman as Other. Nervous disorders, such as hysteria became warnings for women not to disturb patriarchal order or their roles within society.[2] The image of Woman was created by men through visual representations that sanctioned their position of power.
In this essay I will look at the history of medical imagery, with a focus on the traditional visual conflation of women and madness. In doing this, I will explore the function of hysteria as a political construction to legitimise psychiatry and to aid in secularising France under the Third Republic. I will discuss the role of the psychiatrist, J.M. Charcot, as the pioneer of the diagnosis and definition of hysteria in the nineteenth-century. I will explore Charcot’s representations of hysterics at the Salpêtrière hospital, analysing how they break and adhere to the history of medical imagery. I will explore the role of the image of the hysteric in issues of sexuality, madness, degeneracy and their association with femininity. I will then look at the effects of Charcot’s imagery of hysterical patients on contemporary Parisian culture, particularly in the work of Degas. I will explore the shift of madness and sexuality onto the image of women and discuss the infiltration of this image into mainstream notions of femininity. I will analyse Charcot and Degas’s images of women, examining how they both reflect and approve the formation of the modern women as hysterical.
In the middle ages and the renaissance the insane were depicted as different in order to separate them from mainstream society. Madness was frequently depicted within the frame of art. The mad in art were represented in isolation, often as travellers or on ships, for example Hieronymus Bosch’s Ship of Fools, late fifteenth-century (Fig. 1).[3] By the eighteenth-century the image of the insane was closely associated with their confinement in asylums. The last painting in William Hogarth’s The Rake’s Progress, 1735-63 (Fig. 2) depicts the character of the series in the famous London asylum, Bethlehem. It portrays different types of mad people, easily recognisable by their distinguishing props, dress and physical features. By this point the insane could be categorised into visual types, as Hogarth’s painting shows. Stereotypical depictions of mad people were made easily recognisable by their appearance, their signs of illness and their setting.[4] Throughout the nineteenth-century the use of illustrations of the mentally ill in medical literature was established in the work of Philippe Pinel and Charles Bell. Together, they legitimised the patients’ physical features and expressions as tools to diagnosis.[5]
Hysteria for Charcot was a visual phenomenon. Freud’s 1893 essay on Charcot describes him as a ‘“viseul”, a man who sees.’[6] The recording of hysteria in etchings, lithographs and photographs was important in proving that hysteria was a real disease.[7] Through representations of the body, a disease of the imagination was proved.[8] Charcot continued in the tradition of Pinel and Bell, by recording his patients visually, to aid in diagnosis and treatment. However, Charcot further developed the use of imagery of the mentally ill as a means to legitimise hysteria and place it within the realm of realism. Charcot diagnosed figures in religious imagery with hysteria, disproving them as depictions of demoniac possessions. In order to demonstrate the seriousness of hysteria and its universality, Charcot rewrote it into history. The dramatic increase of hysteric patients in the late nineteenth-century was caused by this revision of hysteria’s reality and seriousness as a disease. Charcot published a volume called Les Démoniaques dans l’art in 1887, containing paintings and engravings from the fifth-century to the eighteenth-century depicting religious possession in art. The volume offers sixty-seven illustrations providing visual proof of the similarities between the Catholic mystic and the modern hysteric. Beginning with fifth-century representations of possessions in the Romanesque mosaics of Ravenna to images of Saint Catherine of Sienna. Charcot matched poses and symptoms seen in religious art to photographs of nineteenth-century hysterics from the Salpêtrière. By doing so, Charcot shifted the reasoning behind these possessions from religious to scientific.[9] Hysteria was used to signify a shift from the supernatural to the natural, from religion to science. A shift that benefited the positivist attitudes of psychiatrists and the development of the Third Republic government.[10]
The association made by Charcot between the mad in the visual arts, particularly religious paintings of possessions and contemporary mental disorders of the mind, particularly hysteria, coincided with a wider secularisation of nineteenth-century France during the Third Republic.[11] Charcot’s positivist approach to the depiction and treatment of the insane suited the Third Republic’s move away from religion. In 1883 under the Third Republic, all hospitals were laicised.[12] In 1882, a chair in diseases of the nervous system, funded by the Third Republic’s national budget, was created at the Paris Faculty of Medicine by a decree of January 2nd. On the same date, Charcot was made head of the chair. [13] These events gave official sanction to psychiatry, and hysteria as a disease.[14]
In the 1870s Charcot began his studies into hysteria and its treatment with hypnosis.[15] The aim of documenting hysterics was to produce objective portrayals, however the representations of hysterics at the Salpêtrière came from a “sexualised, masculine sight - that inscribed and legitimised male bourgeois power”.[16] At the Salpêtrière it was the role of an intern, Paul Richer to record in drawings the poses of hysterical women in stages of the grande hystérie. The drawings produced by Richer (Fig. 3) often depicted the women with little or no clothes on. The body language of the hysterics was depicted as highly eroticised and sexual.[17] In the nineteenth-century the development of photography had an important impact on the depiction and representation of the mentally ill.[18] Charcot installed a photographic atelier at the Salpêtrière in 1875, run by Albert Londe, the head of the photographic service at the asylum.[19] One of the most frequently photographed patients at the Salpêtrière was Augustine. She came to the Salpêtrière in October 1875, because she had developed hysteria after subjection to sexual attacks by men in her neighbourhood and she was raped at the age of thirteen by her mother’s love. Augustine recovered in 1879, only to relapse in 1880, and finally escaping towards the end of the same year, disguised as a man. She was repeatedly photographed in her revealing hospital gown, demonstrating stages of grande hystérie. Figure 4 shows Augustine in attitudes passionelles: Ecstasy. The caption Ecstasy highlights the connection made between hysteria and female sexuality. The photograph of Augustine displays the source of hysterical poses in religious imagery and the gestures of fine art practice. Her hands and face are directed upwards, recalling the position of the Virgin Mary in Rubens’, The Assumption of the Virgin Mary, 1626 (Fig. 5). Augustine’s vulnerably thrown back neck recalls the helpless women in Ingres’, Angelica Saved by Roger, 1841 (Fig. 6). Charcot emphasised the visual manifestations of hysteria and the hysterical body as an art object.
The walls of the Salpêtrière were covered with images of hysterics and religious possessions.[20] Charcot used religious demoniacs and motifs found in fine art to develop a visual language for hysteria. The ‘posed’ photographic records of the Salpêtrière hysterics reflect the gestures of the French classical acting style and the formulaic têtes d’expression of fine art practice.[21] The image of the hysteric produced by the female patients matched an image of the hysteric created by the male physician. A complete hysterical seizure consisted of the epileptoid phase in which the patient lost consciousness; the phase of “clownism” (The circus was enjoyed by Charcot), that involved the patient forming eccentric physical contortions; the phase of the attitudes passionelles, or sexual poses and the attack ended with a backbend called the arc-en-cercle.[22] The third of the four stages of the hysteria attack, the attitudes passionelles was the stage that was most frequently photographed and most closely recalls the academic têtes d’expression of fine art.[23] The photograph of Augustine in a state of Ecstasy (Fig. 4) closely recalls Charles Lebrun’s depiction of Rapture (Fig. 7). Both images depict the subject with their eyes unfocused and rolling upwards, and their heads flung backwards, exposing their bare necks. The poses adopted by the hysterics at the Salpêtrière - the hysterics were usually working-class and uneducated - came from the language of Charcot, with roots in Greek theatre and academic history painting. The words used by Charcot in the captions to the photographs: “Veneration”, “Fear”, “Admiration”, were taken from the language associated with the academic têtes d’expression and the popular Expression des Passions developed by Charles Lebrun in the seventeenth-century (Fig. 8). The classical language of the captions disguised and authorised the voyeuristic erotic approach of the Salpêtrière photographs. The classical language and classical visual rhetoric legitimised the hysteria diagnosis.[24]
Fine art and medicine were closely linked in the nineteenth-century; there were frequent professional and personal interactions between artists and scientists. The gestures and poses of hysterics also fed back into nineteenth-century culture, into Parisian opera, into the theatre through Sarah Bernhardt, into literature with Huysmans and into contemporary art.[25] Pierre André Brouillet’s painting of 1887 shows Charcot lecturing on hysteria at the Salpêtrière (Fig. 9). Charcot would hold public lectures on Tuesdays that were attended by artists, writers and various interested Parisians, as well as doctors. The lectures were voyeuristic displays of women hypnotised in stages of hysterical attacks.[26] The sexuality associated with hysteria allows for Anthea Callen’s comparison of the asylum as a brothel for voyeurs.[27] Brouillet’s etching depicts a famous hysteric, Blanche (Marie Wittman). Blanche’s body is on full display to the Salpêtrière male audience and to the external viewer. She swoons backwards exposing her brightly lit décolletage. Her dress has been removed to her waist, yet her corset remains tight, leaving her white underclothes to starkly contrast with the dark suit of Charcot and the medical assistant, Joseph Babinski who is both supporting her and staring at her cleavage. The female nurse on Blanche’s left is the only person in the scene who is showing concern or emotion over her state. In contrast to the vulnerably undressed hysteric, the clothes of the older female nurse do not reveal any of her skin. This contrast emphasises the patient’s youthful, promiscuous abandon. The etching displays extreme contrasts: dress and undress, rationality and irrationality, restraint and excess, control and submissiveness, male and female. The etching sets up a dichotomy between male and female characteristics that reflect and reinforce social paradigms. This is Charcot’s “theatre of hysterics”.[28] “Woman as image, man as bearer of the look”.[29]
The hypnotism of the hysteric was not primarily about curing the patient; its focus was on the taxonomy of the female body for the use of men. In Brouillet’s etching we see the role of the female hysteric as the means to satisfy male desire and anxiety. Charcot’s theatre provides an arena for exhibitionism and voyeurism to satisfy forbidden pleasures. Men’s desire and terror of overt female sexuality could be rehearsed and contained. A woman’s desire for sexual fulfilment and a lifting of her sexual asceticism could also be enacted.[30] Women are the sites upon which men can project their narcissistic fantasies. Hysterics, like actresses, artist’s models and prostitutes are all objects of the male gaze, a gaze that enhances male bourgeois power and dominates women.[31]
The image of women became conflated with the image of the hysteric, the image of the insane. A cause of hysteria was frequently identified as feminist protest. Hysteria developed at the same time as feminism and the beginning of the New Woman. Therefore a defence of patriarchal culture was to label women campaigning for access to universities, professions and the vote as mentally ill.[32] The female participants in the French revolution were also deemed hysteric because of their active political roles. The conservative press created the motif of the revolutionary woman as an ugly woman disposed to violent, sexually rapacious furies. Charcot wanted to distance his hysterical patients from their aura of revolutionary feminism. He achieved this through his revival of Renaissance and Baroque representations of the possessed, offering a visually compelling alternative to the depictions of revolutionary women that had helped establish the credentials of psychiatry in France. Tony Robert-Fleury’s 1876 depiction of the 1795 event of Pinel removing the chains of female patients (Fig. 10) at the Salpêtrière shows revolutionary women dominating the courtyard of the asylum. The women in the scene, their shabby clothes and unruly hair place them into stereotypes of revolutionary women of a lower class and radical status. However, Charcot’s images of the insane quote from Rubens and other old masters, instead of revolutionary stereotypes. The facial expression of Augustine in the photograph, Attitudes passionelles, Menace (Fig. 11), matches Ruben’s Demoniaque (Fig. 12), reprinted in the journal, Iconographie photographique de la Salpêtrière. Menace displays Augustine in a loose, revealing shift surrounded by abundant linen on the bed, providing a draped, classicizing look. The classical look of the photographs supports the claim of the seriousness of hysteria, and adds a timeless quality to Charcot’s endeavour, rather than the historically specific context employed by Pinel.[33]
In the early nineteenth-century the image of madness was replaced by poetic, theatrical images of beautiful, young women (Fig. 13). Pushing the disturbing images of wild, dark, bestial men to one side (Fig. 14).[34] It was in this shift that madness became defined as a cause of feminine sexuality and nature. Man’s relation and anxiety to female malady constructed images of female madness in the form of three madwomen: the suicidal Ophelia, the sentimental Crazy Jane (Fig. 15), and the violent Lucia. Each image presented a different interpretation of women’s madness and man’s relation to it. The changing image of Ophelia represents the changing characteristics of female madness, from Elizabethan erotomania, nineteenth-century obsessions with hysteria to the incestuous conflicts of the Freudians. Nineteenth-century artists regularly portrayed Ophelia, particularly by the Pre-Raphaelites (Fig. 16), and she was frequently copied in popular lithographs.[35] Nineteenth-century romantic opera regularly performed the theme of the unleashing of female sexuality and madness from the bonds of femininity. The most famous example is Gustave Flaubert’s Madame Bovary.[36] Violent heroines escape one type of femininity only to fall into another category created for them by male culture. These are images of female malady told by male culture. These images of madness, as with Charcot’s photographs of hysterics are a way of controlling and mastering female difference.[37] The relationship of the insane with society is a passive one, therefore women being associated with illness slots them into a passive role. The mad and women can both be separated as ‘other’ through their passivity and difference.[38] Throughout history women and madness have always been associated, it is just the disease that has changed.[39]
As the image of women became conflated with madness it also became inseparable from sexuality. There was a strong association between hysteria and female sexuality, visibly shown in the explicitly sexualised image of the hysteric presented by Charcot. The symptoms of hysteria were closely linked with the behaviour of prostitutes and the characteristics of female orgasm.[40] Up until the mid nineteenth-century hysteria had been associated with the delicacy and refinement of the leisured classes. In 1859 the publishing of Paul Briquet’s study of 430 hysterics dispelled this belief, proving that working class women were more susceptible to the illness.[41] The identification of working class women and hysteria set up an association between the hysteric and the degenerate prostitute.[42] Women were seen as physiologically more susceptible to degeneration than men. Working class women were believed to be ‘pre-disposed’ to sexual and alcoholic excess and thus to hysteria and prostitution. The hysteria patients at the Salpêtrière were normally working class, and ‘seamstresses, laundresses, or flowersellers’[43], professions already associated with prostitution. They were women already the object of male sexual and moral attention. Prostitution and hysteria were seen as causes of femininity and were thus open to male scrutiny, either medical or erotic.[44] In nineteenth-century France, the body and sexuality, especially in regards to women, were issues of much debate. During the Third Republic degeneration became an important term. Due to the unsuccessful Prussian war and the corruption of the Second Empire, the Third Republic’s role was to deter degeneration. Degeneration of the body and morality was reversed by a strong focus on civic values, such as the importance of family. Degeneration of the nation was symbolised through degenerate bodies, the bodies of prostitutes and hysterics. The image of women became the face of sexuality and degeneracy, two defining concerns of modernity.[45]
The rise of visual imagery in the nineteenth-century saw the image of women functioning as an object of display and consumption. Women were defined in terms of the visual, voyeuristic spectacle.[46] As the bourgeois value system of patriarchal authority developed, it enforced female sexual asceticism and gender roles. This gender differentiation was justified through scientific and medical advancements, and the theories developed by the Enlightenment. A closer unity developed between men. Women became inferior, passive citizens, the signifiers of the corruption and opulence of the ancien regime. The woman as Other was created; women became objects to be desired by men. Sexuality shifted from the male body to the female body.[47] This discourse between art, science and politics in nineteenth-century France produced a new visual language to represent the female body, and was important in forming modern conceptions of gender.[48]
During the 1870s and 1880s, the same period as hysteria developed, Degas painted women obsessively. He painted many bather scenes and depictions of prostitutes. His models and subjects were from similar backgrounds to Charcot’s hysteria patients, women from service industries. The expansion of the service industries and prostitution, with the growth of bourgeois wealth, meant there were more jobs for women, creating anxiety over women’s roles within the public and private spheres. Women were able to perform feminine roles of the domestic world in the public sphere and for financial gain. Degas’s paintings of women from service industries make visible the anxiety of bourgeois patriarchy over women’s freedoms. Degas’s paintings satisfy nineteenth-century preoccupations with the containment of women, their bodies and their sexuality, by placing them within a frame. [49] The process of painting, as with Charcot’s photographs sanitises the subject. The heightened sexuality of women’s bodies in the late nineteenth-century meant that gaze and touch had to be kept separate. Women’s bodies were allowed to be looked at through art or science, but could not be touched.[50] Issues of hygiene in the nineteenth-century also discouraged touch; women were advised not to wash their genitals, as bathing was seen as a sign of promiscuity.[51] This obsession with hygiene and dirt created a fascination between the desire to look and the fear of contamination.[52]
Degas’s Bathers (Fig. 17-21) are problematic as they evoke both gaze and touch; the pastel medium inspires the desire to touch, whilst the spatial dislocation of the figures invites the activity of the gaze. Tension arises with the conflation of gaze and touch. The gaze represents a desire to contain female sexuality, whilst touch represents the anxiety over the freeing of female sexuality. The gaze is a position of power, whilst touch disrupts the safety of distance and control. In fulfilling the desire to touch, the fantasy disappears. In Degas’s Bathers, most of the figures do not make eye contact with the viewer, defining the gaze as masculine. The lack of eye contact enhances the feeling that one has intruded into a private, female space. Spectating becomes uncomfortable, the world of women unfamiliar. This is enhanced by cropping, the distortion of the female bodies, and cramped compositions. The focus of the pastels are the female models, which are given just enough room within the frame to fully display their naked bodies.[53] Degas’s confinement of his bather’s in visual representations recalls Richer’s drawings of Salpêtrière hysterics. Richer’s series of drawings (Fig. 22) reflect Degas’s numerous pastels on the same subject. Richer and Degas’s subjects are both conveyed in uncomfortable, distorted positions, with a focus on movement. The towels and cloth around the Bathers contrast with and highlight their naked bodies, as do the revealing hospital gowns of the hysterics. Both bathers and hysterics demurely avoid eye contact, allowing the man to dominate the gaze. The backgrounds are indistinctive, pushing the figures to the foreground of the composition and the viewer’s focus.
Degas’s pastels, as with Richer’s drawings of hysterics simultaneously display fascination and disgust. Waiting (Fig. 23) a pastel done by Degas in the 1870s, taxonomically displays a row of prostitutes waiting. Each woman is in a different pose, as if the four prostitutes are acting out the four stages of hysteria. Their setting is undistinguishable, a blank background similar to that used in the Salpêtrière photographic atelier. The lack of setting is unnerving; it appears to be a Parisian café scene, yet the women are undressed. Sexual commerce infiltrates a scene usually associated with leisure. Degas’s use of ambiguity makes the monotype appear objective.[54] The women are depicted as mannish and vulgar because they are prostitutes, separating sexuality and femininity. A prostitute’s disassociation with domesticity and maternity also disassociates her with femininity. Richer’s drawing, “Attaque Démoniaque” (Fig. 24) identifies the demoniacal attack with women. To complete this identification, Richer highlights women’s sexuality over women’s femininity. Richer’s drawing, like Degas’s prostitutes, depicts a woman with masculine qualities, heightening the notion that degeneracy of femininity is caused by a women’s association with sexuality. At the same time as Richer and Degas masculinise their subjects they also focus on the female body, the curves, wide hips, full breasts and long hair, returning the viewer’s focus to the sexuality of the depicted bodies. The visual overload of female sexualised bodies in states of hysteric attacks, swooning in public lectures, bathing, or selling their bodies, closely identified women’s bodies with disease, degeneracy and promiscuity.
Hysteria stems from the sex-role conflicts emerging in the nineteenth-century. The sexualised female hysteric became a warning to women wanting freedom from their defined roles, and a means of maintaining male bourgeois power. Hysteria is a manifestation of a women’s confusion of her role within society, confusion between revolt and complicity. The act of hysteria is a revolt because it results in an escape from a domestic role. Yet it is also a compliancy, as the use of the image of hysterics was used to enforce gender roles and benefit male bourgeois power. Women were images of sexuality, but her life was to be lead according to monogamy and motherhood. Hysterical symptoms were often sexual in nature and the asylums were places where sexuality could be expressed and was even encouraged; in the public lectures, relations with doctors, and the suggestive draping of hospital gowns used in the photographs. Hysteria is a defiance against patriarchy, yet also a call for help from patriarchy. Women’s bodies were vessels for the disease of hysteria, they knew how to look like patients in order to satisfy male physicians. Hysteria was a symptom of women but a therapy for an affliction of men.
In the second half of the nineteenth-century hysteria became a legitimate disorder sanctioning the importance of the psychiatry profession and mental illnesses. It was a visual phenomenon that satisfied male desires through voyeuristic displays of the female as spectacle. The representations of hysterics at the Salpêtrière shared the classical language of history painting in order to maintain hysteria as a timeless illness. The hysterical body was transformed into an art object, making it available for display and influence. The image of the hysteric spread into nineteenth-century culture, as in the work of Degas. Degas continued the containment of the hysteric women within the artist’s frame, controlled by the artist’s touch and gaze. The male gaze of the hypnotist, the artist, and the scientist created the image of the hysteric. The image of the hysteric legitimised the shift of sexuality and madness onto women’s bodies and thus sanctioned the re-enforcement of gender roles. Hysteria functioned to satisfy male desire through its use as a visual, voyeuristic phenomenon. The real illness of the nineteenth-century was the bi-polarity of the representations deposited on the image of Women by men.
[1] Jan Goldstein, “The Hysteria Diagnosis and the Politics of Anticlericalism in Late Nineteenth-Century France,” The Journal of Modern History Vol. 54, No. 2, Sex, Science, and Society in Modern France, (June, 1982): 209.
[2] Elaine Showalter, The Female Malady: women, madness and English Culture, 1830-1980 (London: Virago, 1987), 145.
[3] Sander L. Gilman, Disease and Representation: Images of Illness from Madness to AIDS (Ithaca, N.Y. : London: Cornell University Press, 1988), 21-22.
[4] Ibid., 24.
[5] Ibid., 27.
[6] Jo Anna Isaak, “Mapping the Imaginary,” in Feminism-Art-Theory: an anthology, 1968-2000, ed. Hilary Robinson (Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishers, 2001), 481.
[7] Goldstein, “The Hysteria Diagnosis,” 214.
[8] Isaak, “Mapping the Imaginary,” 481.
[9] Goldstein, “The Hysteria Diagnosis,” 235.
[10] Ibid., 236.
[11] Goldstein, “The Hysteria Diagnosis,” 222.
[12] Ibid.
[13] Ibid., 233
[14] Ibid., 234
[15] Showalter, The Female Malady, 147.
[16] Anthea Callen, The Spectacular Body: Science, Method and Meaning in the work of Degas (London and New Haven: Yale University Press, 1995), 50.
[17] Ibid., 50-52
[18] Gilman, Disease and Representation, 36.
[19] Showalter, The Female Malady, 149.
[20] Ibid.
[21] Callen, The Spectacular Body, 55.
[22] Elaine Showalter, “Hysteria, Feminism, and Gender,” in Hysteria Beyond Freud, ed. Sander L. Gilman (Berkley: University of California Press, 1993), 307-308.
[23] Callen, The Spectacular Body, 55.
[24] Callen, The Spectacular Body, 55.
[25] Ibid.
[26] Ibid., 56.
[27] Ibid., 55.
[28] Callen, The Spectacular Body, 58.
[29] Laura Mulvey, Visual and Other Pleasures (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2009), 19.
[30] Callen, The Spectacular Body, 58.
[31] Laura Mulvey, “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema,” in Visual and Other Pleasures, Laura Mulvey (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2009) 14-27.
[32] Showalter, The Female Malady, 145.
[33] Jane Kromm, The Art of Frenzy: Public Madness in the Visual Culture of Europe, 1500-1850 (London: Continuum, 2002), 260-263.
[34] Showalter, The Female Malady, 8-10.
[35] Ibid., 10-11.
[36] Ibid., 14-15
[37] Showalter, The Female Malady, 17.
[38] Gilman, Disease and Representation, 19.
[39] Showalter, The Female Malady, 4.
[40] Callen, The Spectacular Body, 56.
[41] Goldstein, “The Hysteria Diagnosis,” 218.
[42] Showalter, The Female Malady, 145.
[43] Goldstein, “The Hysteria Diagnosis,” 213.
[44] Callen, The Spectacular Body, 59.
[45] Richard Thomson, The Troubled Republic: visual culture and social debate in France 1889-1900 (New Haven, Conn. : London: Yale University Press, 2004).
[46] Richard Kendall and Griselda Pollock, eds., Dealing with Degas: Representations of Women and the Politics of Vision (London: Pandora, 1992), 30.
[47] Abigail Solomon-Godeau, “Male Trouble: A Crisis in Representation,” in Male Trouble. A Crisis of Representation, ed. Abigail Solomon-Godeau (London: Thames and Hudson, 1997), 178.
[48] Anthea Callen, “Degas’ Bathers: Hygiene and Dirt – Gaze and Touch,” in Dealing with Degas, ed. Richard Kendall and Griselda Pollock (London: Pandora, 1992), 159.
[49] Callen, “Degas’ Bathers,” 161-162.
[50] Callen, “Degas’ Bathers,” 173.
[51] Ibid.
[52] Ibid., 163.
[53] Ibid., 165-170.
[54] Hollis Clayson, “The Sexual Politics of Impressionist Illegibility,” in Dealing with Degas, ed. Richard Kendall and Griselda Pollock (London: Pandora, 1992), 77.
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