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How Louis Braille revolutionized a writing system—despite efforts to stop him

How Louis Braille revolutionized a writing system—despite efforts to stop him

Changing attitudes before Braille's birth helped pave the way for tolerance. Philosopher Denis Diderot's 1749 Letter on the Blind argued blind people have the same intellectual capacity as sighted people. Schools for the blind opened in France and England in the late 1700s, but Braille's writing system provided a means of engaging with texts and scores. Braille, seen here on a collector's card from the 1920s, was motivated by his affection for the visually impaired community, a kindness and grace apparent in his letters. His will—with bequests to everyone down to the night watchman and directing to burn a box of IOUs people in debt had left him—mirrored his generosity.
Where would we be without writing? From its origins over 5,000 years ago in ancient Mesopotamia, the history of writing echoes the history of humanity. The Greeks and Romans developed unique alphabets, the Chinese evolved complex characters, and today we read novels, newspapers, and social media. A bedrock of human civilization, writing is fundamental for the rule of law and the accumulation of knowledge and culture. Yet it was not until the 19th century that blind people had access to writing.
Between 1824 and 1825, Louis Braille created a system of raised dot letters that could be read with the hands. Initially ignored, his invention would be universally adopted by the 20th century, opening a new world of learning for the visually impaired. In a speech at the Sorbonne on the centennial of Braille's death, Helen Keller said, 'We, the blind, are as indebted to Louis Braille as mankind is to Gutenberg.'
(How to make travel more accessible to the blind.)
The youngest of four children, Braille was born in 1809 in the village of Coupvray, 22 miles east of Paris. His father, Simon-René, worked as a saddler, a trade that was always in demand. The family lived comfortably, also cultivating vines for winemaking. Luxuries, such as a bread oven, can be seen today in the house, transformed into the Louis Braille Museum in the 1950s. The centerpiece exhibit is the re-created leather workshop where Braille suffered the accident that would lead to his loss of sight, changing his destiny—and the course of history.
As a curious three-year-old, Braille snuck into the shop when no one was around and played with the tools he often watched his father use. When he tried to punch a hole in the leather with an awl, the tool slipped and pierced his eye. This horrific injury led to an infection that spread to both eyes, leaving him blind by the age of five, as antibiotics were not yet discovered. Braille was born in Coupvray, east of Paris, in France's Brie region, famous for the cheese of the same name. His childhood home, which became the Musée Louis Braille in the 1950s, is a traditional three-story house built the 1700s. The family worked as saddlers in Coupvray for more than a century, passing on the profession. In the museum, the leather workshop, shown here, showcases an original table, horse bridles, and an awl of the type that blinded Braille in the horrific childhood incident. A marble plaque outside the house honors the inventor with these words: 'He opened the doors of knowledge to all those who cannot see.'
His distraught parents did not want their son's fate sealed in an era when the visually impaired were treated as subhuman, often ridiculed for their disability. On French city streets, blind people were paraded in silly outfits or resigned to begging. Public school education was not yet mandatory in France, but Braille's parents understood the importance of literacy. To aid his son, Simon-René hammered nails into the shape of the alphabet's letters on panels, and a priest named Abbé Jacques Palluy began to instruct Braille. Lithuania's timeless city
By the age of seven, he attended the local school, where he was the only blind student. His teacher was struck by his raw intelligence and happy demeanor—traits that were admired by Braille's friends over the course of his life. A few years later, a scholarship was secured for him to continue his studies at the Royal Institute for Blind Youth, the world's first such school and one that's still in existence, now called the National Institute for Blind Youth, or INJA. At 10 years old, he would be its youngest ever student.
Most astonishing of all was his close-knit family's consent in allowing him to leave home. 'His mother and father could've just as easily kept him in the village,' explained Farida Saïdi-Hamid, the curator of the Louis Braille Museum. 'They are going to write his destiny without knowing it.' This familial support would prove a constant for Braille, and he would continue to return to Coupvray to rest and recharge throughout his life.
(These scientists set out to end blindness.) This specially adapted dominoes set was owned by Braille. At seven years old, he was the only blind student at the local school. A chance for education
Founded by pioneering educator Valentin Haüy, the institute was groundbreaking in its methodology and approach. The students learned a variety of academic subjects and a manual trade. Haüy had devised a means of embossing books with raised letters, which the children could read with their fingertips, albeit with great difficulty. The school would bring Braille's salvation and his demise, because it's likely where he caught the tuberculosis that would kill him.
The building, situated in the longtime student hub of Paris's Latin Quarter, was filthy, damp, and run-down. It had even served as a prison during the French Revolution. But despite the noxious conditions, and the sometimes severe punishment doled out for rule-breaking kids, Braille thrived, making friends and excelling at his studies. Teachers noted his remarkable smarts and spiritual quality. His friend Hippolyte Coltat would later write, 'Friendship with him was a conscientious duty as well as a tender sentiment. He would have sacrificed everything for it, his time, his health, his possessions.' An ear for music Braille's passion for music was born at the institute, where professional musicians gave classes and students, shown playing in a 1903 illustration, could join the orchestra. He won the cello prize in his fifth year, developed a talent for the piano, and invented a tactile method for reading and writing music. As an organist, he played for multiple church parishes, which supplemented his meager income as a teacher.
The catalyst for Braille's invention came in 1821. Capt. Charles Barbier, an artillery officer, had devised a means of 'night writing' for the French Army to transmit and carry out orders under the cover of darkness. Convinced of its merit for blind people, Barbier transformed this dot-and-dash code into a phonetics-based system he presented to the students. There were linguistic flaws—sonography reduced language to sounds, so spelling was inaccurate and punctuation nonexistent—but Braille had an epiphany. A dot system could provide an easy and efficient method for the visually impaired to read and write. An early 1900s chocolate card shows Braille at the organ
He spent the next four years working to devise such a code. At the institute, he'd pull all-nighters after his classes had finished. Even on vacations home to Coupvray, villagers would describe seeing the boy sitting on a hill with stylus and paper in hand. At the age of 15, he succeeded in creating what would become known as braille writing. The basis was cells of six dots arranged in two columns and three rows. Each combination of raised dots represented a letter of the alphabet. It was elegant in its simplicity and logic.
The school's students quickly embraced its use—allowed in an unofficial capacity by Director François-René Pignier. Braille humbly acknowledged his indebtedness to Barbier in his 1829 book Method for Writing Words, Music, and Plainsong by Means of Dots for the Use of the Blind: 'If we have pointed out the advantages of our method over his, we must say in his honor that his method gave us the first idea of our own.' Barbier's code gave Braille (whose statue in Buenos Aires, Argentina is shown here) his big idea: A dot system could enable blind people to read. Battle for Braille
Despite Pignier's promotion of braille and letters to the government, the system was not immediately accepted. The established order, dictated by the sighted, was resistant to change and favored the uniform use of one writing system.
Braille became a teacher at the institute at the age of 19. By 26, he was diagnosed with tuberculosis, leading to long stretches of convalescence at home in Coupvray. Political machinations at the school led to the ousting of Pignier, whose replacement, Pierre-Armand Dufau, flatly rejected the use of braille. He even burned books and punished students caught using it. Braille also devised the decapoint system in which raised dots form standard Latin letters. His friend Pierre-François-Victor Foucault developed the raphigraphe, shown here, to write decapoint. The system was unwieldy, but Braille used the machine to write letters, including to his 'dear mom.'
Gracefully, Braille persisted in his fight for the acceptance of his new writing system. A letter that he wrote in 1840 to Johann Wilhelm Klein, the founder of a school for blind people in Vienna, shows his humble efforts of persuasion when describing yet another invention, decapoint, a means for blind and sighted people to communicate: 'I will be happy if my little methods can be useful for your students, and if this specimen is in your eyes the proof of the high consideration with which I have the honor to be, sir, your respectful and very humble servant, Braille.' A 2009 coin from Italy dedicated to Braille
A moment of recognition finally came in 1844, at the inauguration of the school's new premises on the Boulevard des Invalides. By this time, Dufau had changed his mind about braille, thanks to the insistence of assistant director Joseph Guadet. Following a speech about the raised-dot system, students demonstrated its use by transcribing and reading verse. Guadet later wrote: 'Braille was modest, too modest ... those around him did not appreciate him ... We were perhaps the first to give him his proper place in the eyes of the public, either in spreading his system more widely in our musical instruction or in making known the full significance of his invention.'
Louis Braille did not live to see the universal adoption of braille. He died on January 6, 1852, surrounded by his brother and friends. Not a single newspaper carried a death notice for the man called 'the apostle of light' by Jean Roblin, the first curator of the Louis Braille Museum. Students raised money for Parisian sculptor François Jouffroy to create a marble bust based on Braille's death mask.
In 1878 in Paris, a global congress for deaf and blind people proposed an inter- national braille standard. Braille was officially adopted by English speakers in 1932, and postwar UNESCO efforts unified adaptations in India, Africa, and the Middle East. Braille's profound legacy cannot be overstated.
On the centennial of his death, Braille's accomplishments were finally celebrated in a national homage. His body was exhumed from the Coupvray cemetery and transferred to Paris's Panthéon, the resting place of France's great citizens. (His hands remained in an urn decorated with ceramic flowers at the Coupvray grave.) The parade through the streets of Paris included hundreds of blind people, elbows linked, some wearing dark sunglasses, tapping white canes on the cobblestones. Braille died of tuberculosis, age 43, in 1852 and was buried in Coupvray. In 1952 his body was reinterred in a tomb in Paris's Panthéon, the mausoleum reserved for France's greatest figures.
Yet 200 years after the invention of braille writing, the fight continues. It is a fight to preserve not only the memory of Louis Braille, the subject of surprisingly few biographies, but also the use of his system in the digital age. Increasingly, visually impaired children are learning via screens and audio programs. But neuroscientists argue that writing is essential for thinking, brain connectivity, and learning. The cognitive benefits of writing are fundamentally important. Studies have shown that when a blind person reads braille through touch, the visual cortex is illuminated.
With a shortage of braille teachers worldwide, braille literacy has plummeted, and its very future is in peril. Saïdi-Hamid, the curator of the Louis Braille Museum for nearly 17 years, equates her fight to defend braille as a 'combat to defend intelligence itself.' Noting Braille's 'extraordinary personality,' Saïdi-Hamid said, 'he always perceived his disability as a strength and not as a limitation.' As Braille fought during his lifetime, the fight must go on.
(How the wheelchair opened up the world to millions of people.) U.S.S.R and India: Alamy; Qatar: Shutterstock Six million people around the world use braille today. Its future is secure in a high-tech world. It can be easily converted to digital formats, and it can be read and written on tactile displays on computers or tablets. An expert braille user can read 200 words a minute (most sighted people can read 250). Although braille literacy is declining, it will be necessary for a future in which an aging population increases the number of blind and visually impaired people. Its strength as a universal system that can be used by anyone, regardless of their linguistic background, has attained international hero status for its French creator. Numerous countries have paid homage to Braille in their postage stamps, including these stamps (clockwise from the left: the U.S.S.R., Qatar, and India). This story appeared in the July/August 2025 issue of National Geographic History magazine.
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‘How can this be happening?' The coincidence that put my family trauma in a new light.
‘How can this be happening?' The coincidence that put my family trauma in a new light.

Boston Globe

timea day ago

  • Boston Globe

‘How can this be happening?' The coincidence that put my family trauma in a new light.

Frankly, I was happy to put Boston behind me. My childhood was miserable, filled with trauma. I never wanted to return to this place, except perhaps for holidays or funerals. Or so I thought. I had received a job offer from The Boston Globe, a paper I long idolized, and just had to take it. Get The Gavel A weekly SCOTUS explainer newsletter by columnist Kimberly Atkins Stohr. Enter Email Sign Up The Facebook invite was from Kellie, a person who wasn't quite a friend in high school. But we got along — I recall we danced a bit on stage when we performed in our high school musical. 'Who would you like to invite?' Kellie asked. Good question. I didn't really keep in touch with anyone. But I was Facebook friends with several people like Kellie, classmates who were friendly acquaintances but people I never spent time with outside of school. When you're a kid and struggling, you think you're the only one who's struggling. Trauma is not something people easily speak about, especially in high school where the number one goal is conformity. You sit in a classroom and stare at the other kids and wonder what it might be like to be normal. So, it was shocking to see them at the cookout now as adults, stumbling through life just as I was. Not everyone I invited could make it. A few weeks later, I received a Facebook message from someone I'll call Madeline for the purposes of this story. 'Hey Tom, sorry I missed your welcome back party! I was away. Wondering if you would like to come have dinner sometime. ... I live in Watertown with my husband and kids. I think you'd like my husband. He's nice.' 'Sure,' I replied. 'That's nice of you. What's your address?' Her response froze me. For several seconds, I stared blankly at the number and street name. No. That's not possible. Good and bad reality My parents emigrated from China to Boston in the 1950s. They started a laundry business before Dad went to work for New England Telephone Company. He would sit on a bench and assemble parts into landline telephones. Like many Chinese families, they wanted desperately to have a son, which proved difficult for them. By the time I was born in 1977, Dad was already 49 years old and father to four daughters. No one would ever mistake us for the Brady Bunch. Dad was an angry, abusive man who frequently unleashed his verbal and physical wrath on his wife and daughters. He never laid a hand on me, though he was psychologically abusive. Mom suffered from paranoid schizophrenia. She could be loving and caring in one moment and then suddenly attack me with a ruler or Wiffle ball bat for the tiniest of infractions. She heard voices and insisted that the neighbors were using a machine to monitor our thoughts. My eldest sister, whom I'll call Susan, started to lose her grip on reality in her late teens and was also diagnosed with schizophrenia. She would chase me throughout the house with a pair of scissors, threatening to castrate me. She would frequently try to climb into bed with me. I coped with the chaos the same way many trauma victims deal with such things: I buried it deep inside me. I started to compartmentalize reality. There was the 'good reality,' the one where I hung out with friends, crushed on a girl, acted in high school plays, and wrote for the town newspaper. The world in which I exercised a degree of control and provided my life with some measure of hope and meaning. And then there was the 'bad reality' of the horror and fear that I endured at home. The reality that still terrifies me. I vowed to keep these realities apart. Not just out of self-preservation but also out of fear that my bad reality would somehow pollute or 'infect' my good reality. That's why I rarely spoke about my parents or siblings or why I freaked out when someone I knew saw me in public with them. No, these two realities must never meet. 'What else was I missing?' After high school, I went to college and tried not to look back. Over the next 25 years, I lived and worked in New York, Seattle, St. Louis, Minneapolis, Ann Arbor, and San Francisco. One of my sisters died from cancer in 2003, and Dad passed away three years ago. Both times, I kept my distance, though before my dad died I did return home once to help my parents move into a more senior-friendly house located just down the road from my childhood home in Watertown. Susan's life had rapidly deteriorated. She could no longer hold a job or live on her own. So she moved back in with my parents in their new home. Unfortunately, Susan's schizophrenia started to mirror Mom's. Susan thought the neighbors were out to get her. She accused them of trying to break into the house and prank-calling us. She convinced my mom to change phone numbers and to install a home alarm system. She even called the police on the neighbors. Yet my view on Susan gradually softened. Thanks to some difficult therapy and introspection, I began to see Susan as less of a monster who terrorized me and more of a human who was also a victim of my father's abuse. Once, when our sister was dying from cancer, Susan sent her a note that read: 'I'm sorry that you're sick. I would help you but as you know I'm not feeling really well myself.' The note stunned me. I didn't know Susan was even capable of such compassion, such clarity of thought. She had gotten so bad that I had doubted she could even read and write anymore. What else was I missing? What would have happened if Susan hadn't been abused? If she had received the care and treatment she needed? What kind of big sister would she have been? Would we even be pals? My thoughts were racing. I started to process everything by writing about mental health and familial abuse on social media. 'Over the years, I came to accept she had an awful illness and was also physically and sexually abused,' I wrote on Facebook on Oct. 16, 2022. 'I'm also sorry that she suffered so much in her life and that her sickness produced so much collateral damage.' My posts found a wide and compassionate audience. 'The fact that you came to understand how sick she was shows how you've grown in your awareness and understanding,' one friend wrote. 'It does not make your pain any less. But you are managing.' Said another: 'We grow through our painful experiences, but also through the experiences of others willing to share.' The things that bind us together When people learned I was returning to the Boston area, they assumed the reason was family. 'No,' I said. 'I'm here for the job. That's all.' That wasn't quite true. I wondered how Boston would look to me as a middle-aged man rather than as an angry, emotionally volatile 17-year-old. The dinner invitation from Madeline came as a surprise. For one thing, I was shocked that she had moved back to Watertown. Madeline, her older sister, and I had performed in the same high school plays. In fact, I had a major crush on her sister. That was a major part of the 'good reality' that I so desperately tried to protect from the 'bad.' And later, Madeline had tried to pursue a career in acting. She attended theater schools and auditioned for movie and television roles. I imagined her in New York or Los Angeles maybe. But yet here she was, married and raising a family in Watertown. But until I received her dinner invite, I didn't know exactly where. As it turned out, Madeline lives right next door to Mom and Susan. Could it be that Madeline and her family were the same neighbors my sister fixated on? The people she called the cops on? During the dinner, I tried to read Madeline and her husband, whom I'll call Greg, for some clues about whether she knew that my mom and sister lived next door. But they gave no indication of that. I started to think it wasn't them. I decided to find out. 'Hey, this is pretty weird,' I said. 'But did you know you live next door to my mom and sister?' Greg's face changed color. Madeline stopped eating. Silence. OMG. They were the neighbors. No, they didn't know it was my family. And yes, my sister called the cops on them. Three times. She accused them of racism. The cops had taken Susan's complaints seriously. Each time the police arrived they brought some kind of crisis interventionist/social worker to teach Madeline and Greg how not to be racist. 'I am not racist!' Madeline insisted to me. No matter how hard Madeline and Greg tried to convince Susan, she heard something different. 'First of all, I am so sorry," I said, mortified. 'Secondly, it's better that you do not say anything to her. No matter your intentions. She is just very sick.' 'I know,' Madeline said. 'At first, we were very upset. But then I started to read the social media posts of this guy I knew, who wrote on Facebook about mental illness and his family. He taught me compassion toward people who were struggling like this.' Who was this guy? 'You,' Madeline said. The world grew exponentially smaller. Let me get this straight: Madeline, an acquaintance with whom I had not spoken in 30 years, read my social media posts about mental health, which allowed her to better understand the actions of her ill neighbor, who turned out to be my sister . So in a sense, I was paying it forward to myself when I wrote those posts. To this day, I wrestle with what happened. I don't believe in coincidences. Everything has a reason. What was I supposed to take from all of this? I concluded that I had been mistaken to draw a distinction between 'good' and 'bad' reality. There is just reality. We view our lives holistically if we want to heal. We have to confront past trauma and reconcile it with our present and future. The bad stuff in my life occurred simultaneously with the good stuff. It's true that my sister chased me with scissors. It's equally true that I happily performed plays with Madeline and her sister. And somehow the universe saw fit to remind us that life can be filled with mysterious little coincidences that seem unrelated but ultimately bind us together. The question is whether you want to see the big picture.

New memorial project brings Britain's bloodiest Korean War battle to life
New memorial project brings Britain's bloodiest Korean War battle to life

UPI

time2 days ago

  • UPI

New memorial project brings Britain's bloodiest Korean War battle to life

SEOUL, July 25 (UPI) -- On the site of one of the Korean War's most ferocious battles, a pioneering hybrid online/offline tour was launched Friday to commemorate the British army's stand at the Battle of the Imjin River. "Stand in the Bootprints of Heroes," produced by the Seoul-based non-profit British Korean War Memorial Committee, features 11 QR-coded signs located at key sites around the battlefield in Paju, some 25 miles north of Seoul. The codes link to a series of 19 video episodes detailing the events of the three-day battle with narration, music, photographs, paintings and maps. The project's combination of real-world location markers with multimedia storytelling "brings history to life in a way that is immersive, respectful and accessible to all," Commodore Andy Lamb, Britain's defense attache in Seoul, said at a launch event held at the British Embassy in Seoul on Friday. "It is helping people connect with the past without altering the landscape itself," Lamb, who serves as the president of the BKWMC, said. The April 1951 battle came during the largest Chinese offensive of the Korean War and is remembered for the heroism of the British 29th Infantry Brigade, particularly the last stand of the Gloster Battalion. British and U.N. forces held off the Chinese 63rd Army in an effort to delay their advance toward Seoul. On April 25, the heavily outnumbered U.N. troops were forced to withdraw from their positions, but the Gloster Battalion was surrounded and fought valiantly until being overrun. The British held the key breakthrough point long enough to blunt the Chinese offensive and help U.N. forces maintain control of Seoul. With over 1,000 casualties, the Battle of the Imjin River remains Britain's bloodiest action since World War II. The 1950-53 Korean War left millions dead, including some 160,000 South Korean soldiers and more than 36,000 U.S. soldiers. Britain provided the second-largest contingent to the combined United Nations Command -- over 81,000 troops -- and saw 1,078 killed and 2,674 wounded. Despite the scope of the devastation, the Korean conflict has long been overshadowed in the West's historical memory, lost between World War II and the Vietnam War -- a situation the team behind the Imjin River project is hoping to help rectify. "It is widely recognized as the 'Forgotten War,' and this work tries to address that," Lamb told UPI. "We're trying to bridge together commemoration and education. As the number of veterans reduces and many of them come to the end of their lives, it's important that we find new ways to commemorate and inform." Younger Koreans also have much to learn about the history of the battles fought right in the backyard, said Lee Myung Hee, a Paju city official who attended the opening ceremony. Lee told UPI that the city is planning to promote the Imjin River project and is organizing a tour for students in October. "This project is a good opportunity for the younger generations, not only in Paju, but nationwide, to understand and remember what the veterans did during the Korean War," she said. "Standing in the Bootprints of Heroes" is the second project by the British Korean War Memorial Committee, which receives its funding from local business sponsors and private donations. The group installed a series of informative panels last year at Paju's Gloster Hill Memorial Park and is considering future expansions for the Imjin River site, including augmented-reality features and physical installations. A new project commemorating the 1951 Battle of Happy Valley in Goyang is also being discussed, organizers said. British Ambassador to South Korea Colin Crooks said in remarks at the launch event that the Imjin River tour is an innovative way to keep the stories of Korean War veterans alive. "One of the great privileges of being ambassador is helping to mark the British contribution to the Korean War," Crooks said. "As the number of living veterans declines, our duty to preserve their legacy becomes more urgent."

Metal detectorist's 'feeling' leads to massive Roman settlement discovery in popular tourist hotspot
Metal detectorist's 'feeling' leads to massive Roman settlement discovery in popular tourist hotspot

Fox News

time2 days ago

  • Fox News

Metal detectorist's 'feeling' leads to massive Roman settlement discovery in popular tourist hotspot

Archaeologists uncovered an "extensive" Ancient Roman settlement in an idyllic tourist destination in England – all thanks to the chance discovery of an amateur metal detectorist. In a press release shared with Fox News Digital, Cotswold Archaeology announced the discovery of the Roman settlement in Gloucestershire, a county within the Cotswold region of England. (See the video at the top of this article.) The settlement dates back 2,000 years; it was inhabited between the first and second centuries A.D. The excavation near Willersey was done as a joint effort with Historic England. Among the recent discoveries were a Roman villa, remains of limestone buildings — and at least three Iron Age ring ditches. Excavators also found the remnants of Roman building materials, including ceramic roofing, painted wall plaster and box flue tiles. "Once Historic England has the final report on the archaeological work, it will be able to consider whether to recommend to the Department for Culture, Media and Sport (DCMS) that the site be protected as a scheduled monument," the statement said. The recent excavation was all thanks to an amateur metal detectorist who found two iron Roman cavalry swords in the same location in March 2023. The hobbyist, Glenn Manning, reported his finds to the government, and they were subsequently donated to the local Corinium Museum in Cirencester. "The X-rays show that the swords were constructed differently: one has evidence of decorative pattern welding running down the center, whereas the other sword is plain," Cotswold Archaeology explained in its statement. "The pattern-welded sword would have been more expensive to produce and therefore higher status." "We turned a plowed field, the swords, and geophysical anomalies into the story of a settlement spanning hundreds of years." The long swords likely belonged to cavalrymen in the second century, the organization said. "They are contemporary with the villa," its statement added. "How they came to be there, though, is currently unknown." Near Willersley, archaeologists also uncovered a burial of a skeleton that still retained an iron band around its arm. A horse skull was also found – but whether the remains date back to the Roman settlement is still unknown. In a statement, Cotswold Archaeology onsite project officer Peter Busby said he was "very proud" of the achievement. "We turned a plowed field, the swords, and geophysical anomalies into the story of a settlement spanning hundreds of years – the first stage in telling the history of these fields and their cavalry swords," the archaeologist said. "This was only my second time metal detecting. I'm excited to find out more about them." Glenn Manning, the metal detectorist who found the swords, described his experience as "amazing." He recalled, "The morning before the rally, I had a feeling I would find something special. This was only my second time metal detecting. I'm excited to find out more about them." The Romans occupied the British Isles from 43 A.D. until 410 A.D., and many remnants of the era still emerge today. In May, British archaeologists announced the discovery of an unusual eight-sided Roman ring in a former drainage ditch in Lincolnshire. Before that, a Roman grave filled with gypsum was found during a highway construction project in England.

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