In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

• Printing as Poison, Printing as Cure:Work and Health in the Nineteenth-Century Printing Office and Asylum
• Mila Daskalova (bio)

In the nineteenth century, printing transformed from a handicraft into what Patrick Duffy describes as "a capital-intensive industry catering for the needs of the developing industrialized society."¹ This shift inevitably affected the lives of those involved in the production of print, reshaping their professional identity and relationship with work. In this article, I will explore nineteenth-century printers' changing experience of work using the concept of health and its relation to printing. Highlighting the stories of those involved in print production, preserved in their own words or the words of contemporary observers, I will show that industrial capitalism transformed the printing office into a high-pressure, fast-paced work environment that commentators in the press and printers themselves perceived as "unhealthy." At the same time, contemporary mental healthcare offered those who struggled to function in the new contexts opportunities to exercise their trade therapeutically. By mid-century many British and American asylums had acquired printing presses, and printing was increasingly incorporated into their therapeutic regimes as part of the popular moral treatment movement. The case of Alexander Smart, a Scottish printer and poet who was repeatedly institutionalised and who benefited from practising his trade in the Royal Edinburgh Asylum, will allow me to explore nineteenth-century printers' complex relationship with their work, as well as broader shifts in the meaning of work in Victorian society and its functions and uses.

Undertaking this kind of discussion demands several clarifications. Firstly, "printer" as an occupational label unifies an otherwise diverse and multilayered professional group, within which circumstances and social standing could vary significantly between individuals and employments and change over time.² As my central interests are printers' relationship with their work and the effects of the changes in the trade on their bodies and minds, I will use the term to refer to workers identifying as printers and primarily employed [End Page 58] in printing offices. Furthermore, the health hazards observed here were present in varying degrees, since work arrangements differed widely, depending on factors such as the type of printing press employed and the materials that were published. The experiences of workers in smaller workshops that continued to operate hand presses were markedly different from those of printers employed in larger establishments equipped with steam machinery. Far from universalising work conditions, I am interested in tracing how those employed in printing offices perceived, experienced, and were affected by their work environment.

Furthermore, the reference to health in a historical analysis begs caution. Retrospective diagnosis is a highly problematic endeavour that is the subject of ongoing debates.³ Critics of the practice insist that the ways health and illness are understood and experienced are determined by the specific cultural and historical contexts within which they occur. Thus, Peter Palmer argues, the application of current understandings of disease to bodies and minds from the past is "a little more than a game, with ill-defined rules and little academic credibility."⁴ However, Osamu Muramoto's thoughtful philosophical assessment of the disputes concludes that retro-diagnosis can be a valuable undertaking, if it is informed by several ethical, ontological, and epistemological considerations. Among these is the question of purpose, and while Muramoto discusses it last, I would like to suggest it as the starting point of any inquiry into dead people's medical histories. For my own purposes, I need not put medical labels on printers' experiences of discomfort and illness; nor am I qualified to do so. It is sufficient to rely on contemporary medical and social interpretations of these phenomena, as well as sufferers' own understandings of their minds and bodies. Ultimately, this article is interested in the ways in which printers themselves made sense of their work and its relation to their health at a time of great change, hope, and uncertainty.

Printing as "Unhealthy"

In his analysis of the occupational health hazards in 1860s London printing workshops, Michael Harris has shown that the proliferation of print in the nineteenth century had a high price—"a price exacted from the bodies of the men, women and children who...

中文翻译：

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印刷成毒，印刷成治愈：19世纪印刷办公室和庇护所的工作与健康

代替摘要，这里是内容的简要摘录：

• 印刷成毒，印刷成治愈：19世纪印刷办公室和庇护所的工作与健康
• 米拉·达斯卡洛娃（Mila Daskalova）（生物）

在19世纪，印刷术从手工业转变为帕特里克·达菲（Patrick Duffy）所描述的“满足发展中的工业化社会需求的资本密集型产业”。^1个这种转变不可避免地影响了从事印刷品生产的人们的生活，重塑了他们的专业身份和与工作的关系。在本文中，我将利用健康的概念及其与印刷的关系，探索19世纪印刷商不断变化的工作经验。我将着重强调用自己的话语或当代观察家的话语保留下来的与印刷生产有关的故事，我将展示工业资本主义将印刷办公室转变为高压，快节奏的工作环境，新闻界和印刷厂的评论员自己被认为是“不健康的”。同时，当代精神卫生保健为那些在新环境下努力工作的人们提供了治疗性贸易的机会。到本世纪中叶，许多英国和美国的庇护所都已经购买了印刷机，并且印刷作为一种普遍的道德治疗运动的一部分越来越多地纳入其治疗方式。苏格兰印刷商和诗人亚历山大·斯马特（Alexander Smart）的案例，他一再被制度化，并从在皇家爱丁堡庇护所（Royal Edinburgh Asylum）的贸易实践中受益匪浅，这将使我探索19世纪印刷商与其工作的复杂关系，以及更广泛的转变。维多利亚时代社会工作的意义及其功能和用途。

进行这种讨论需要一些澄清。首先，“打印机”作为职业标签将原本多元化的多层专业团体统一起来，在这种情况下，个人和工作之间的环境和社会地位可能会发生显着变化，并随时间而变化。²由于我的主要兴趣是打印机与他们的工作之间的关系以及贸易变化对他们身心的影响，因此我将用这个术语来指代被确定为打印机并主要受雇的工人[结束58]在印刷办公室。此外，由于工作安排差异很大，因此在这里观察到的健康危害程度不同，这取决于所采用的印刷机类型和出版材料等因素。在较小的车间中继续操作手动压力机的工人的经验与在大型配备蒸汽机械的工厂中使用的打印机的经验明显不同。我不是在使工作条件通用化，而是希望了解印刷办公室的工作人员如何感知，经历并受到其工作环境的影响。

此外，在历史分析中提到健康时要格外小心。回顾性诊断是一个非常有问题的工作，这是正在进行的辩论的主题。³实践的批评者坚持认为，了解和经历健康和疾病的方式取决于其发生的特定文化和历史背景。因此，彼得·帕尔默（Peter Palmer）辩称，过去对身体和思想的当前对疾病的理解的应用“不仅仅是游戏，规则不明确，学术信誉也不高”。⁴然而，村本修（Osamu Muramoto）对这些纠纷进行了深思熟虑的哲学评估，得出的结论是，如果从几个伦理，本体论和认识论的角度出发，追溯诊断将是一项有价值的工作。其中一个是目的问题，而在村本最后讨论这个问题时，我建议把它作为对死者病史进行任何质询的起点。出于我自己的目的，我不需要在打印机的不适和疾病经历上贴上医疗标签；我也没有资格这样做。依靠现代医学和社会对这些现象的解释以及患者对自己的思想和身体的理解就足够了。最终，

打印为“不健康”

在对1860年代伦敦印刷车间的职业健康危害进行的分析中，迈克尔·哈里斯（Michael Harris）表明，印刷在19世纪的泛滥具有很高的价格，“这个价格是从男性，女性和儿童的身体中索取的……