Free Reluctant Genius by Charlotte Gray

deaf.
    Mabel, however, had a huge advantage over most of the children who lost their hearing in early childhood. Her parents, Gardiner and Gertrude Hubbard, were well aware of the stigma attached to deafness in their circles and were determined not to ship their cheerful little girl off to an institution or allow her to dwindle into a silent recluse. They shared an unassailable belief in progress, and the confidence that, in the second half of the nineteenth century, a solution could be found for any problem. Mabel would continue to be a vital member of their family, their world. They did not even assume that sign language was the only form of communication available to her.
    Until faced with the challenge of Mabel’s deafness, the Hubbards were just another wealthy, successful, and utterly conventional New England family. Gardiner Hubbard, a tall, thin-faced, wiry man with deep-set eyes and an Abraham Lincoln beard, mixed with the best of Boston’s rather haughty Brahmins. A graduate in law from Dartmouth College, he belonged to a posh Boston law firm; he was detached in manner and rarely lost his temper. But Gardiner’s aloof exterior was deceptive. As the grandson of an Irish immigrant who had made a fortune in Boston real estate, he was a shrewd operator. He reflected the heady optimism and get-up-and-go spirit of an open-ended era of finance capitalism, when there were no securities regulations, much abuse of the stock market, and a mania for “progress.” Gardiner was always looking for opportunities to improve things, and to make a penny in the process. It was no accident that, of all the branches of law that Mabel’s father might have chosen, he had become a patent lawyer, with a special interest in mechanical and electrical inventions. He had noticed that it wasn’t only the inventors responsible for technological breakthroughs who were making fortunes: their backers and lawyers were also getting rich.
    Early in his career, Gardiner had shown that when he set his mind to something, he went after his goal like a terrier. First he pursued Gertrude McCurdy, daughter of a successful New York dry goods merchant, until she agreed to marry him in 1846. Next, he bought a forty-five-acre meadow between the Charles River and Brattle Street, in Cambridge, and built a splendid home on the edge of it. Then he set about upgrading the public utilities. In the 1850s he founded the Cambridge Gas Light Company, promoted a new waterworks, and established a horse-drawn railroad service between Cambridge and Boston. Once these civic improvements were in place—and the value of his property had quadrupled—Gardiner Hubbard started building houses on his estate to sell. At the same time, he kept an eye on the rapidly expanding field of telegraph technology.

Gertrude Hubbard treasured this photograph of herself and her second daughter, taken before scarlet fever robbed Mabel of her hearing.
    Gardiner Hubbard’s brusque ambition was softened by the gentle manner of his wife, Gertrude McCurdy Hubbard. Gertrude Hubbard was a tall, square-jawed woman with a melodious voice and eyes as determined as they were gentle. Throughout her life, she emanated an aura of goodness and serene optimism. Her tact and helpfulness represented the womanly ideal of her period: service crowned with self-effacement. The Hubbard marriage was a harmonious partnership, and their large two-story clapboard mansion at Number 146 Brattle Street teemed with relatives and children. Gertrude’s aunts, uncles, and cousins often visited. Tragedy struck the Hubbards in 1848, when their first child, a son, died in infancy, but the following year Gertrude gave birth to a healthy daughter, named Gertrude after her mother and always known as “Sister.” After Mabel’s birth in 1857 came two more girls, Grace in 1859 and Roberta in 1861. The four little girls were raised, dressed, and taught according to the upper-middle-class pattern of their era. This meant starched