Friday, 25 May 2018

'To have a Blue pill & Black draught in the morning'

This week, archivist Louise has been looking into the story of a nineteenth century Edinburgh writer...

LHSA's rich history of psychiatry collections are understandably popular with researchers: with collections from the Royal Edinburgh Hospital, Midlothian and Peebles District Asylum, Haddington District Asylum, Bangour Village Hospital, and Roxburgh, Berwick and Selkirk District Asylum, we have built up a rich picture of Scottish psychiatric hospitals, their patients and their medical staff, particularly in the late nineteenth to early twentieth centuries.

Of these collections, our material from the Royal Edinburgh Hospital is undoubtedly the most consulted. Of particular interest to many researchers are letters written by patients, which we originally found inserted into the pages of the hospital case books. These letters have been the subject of academic scholarship in recent years, and are also popular with history of psychiatry students (who persevere despite the fact that they can be notoriously difficult to decipher!). Letters were sent to patients' relatives, friends, and some to the medical staff of the hospital. So why were they never sent?

One possible reason for their retention by the hospital staff may have been that they did not want to distress potential recipients with some of the contents of the letters, or that doctors were worried that letters may not have painted the hospital in a very positive light. The 1866 Scottish Lunacy Act allowed physicians to suspend letters they felt to be unsuitable (excepting complaints sent to the General Board of Control, the body that policed asylums in Scotland). However, a couple of years ago, I found a reference to the confiscation of patient letters in a Royal Edinburgh Hospital annual report of 1863, in which the Physician Superintendent, David Skae, defended the practice by stating..'it has long been observed that the letters of patients in many instances betray their insanity and morbid impulses much more frequently than their conversation'. Skae went on to state that he had been given authority to confiscate letters by the hospital Board of Directors (an earlier internal regulation than the 1866 Lunacy Act), but that many letters did in fact get sent out and received by patients, and that any inspection or retention of letters was always communicated to the writer.

In researching our letters for one of the many enquiries we receive about them, I came across this resource on Grace Webster, a nineteenth century Edinburgh writer (most famous for her books Ingliston and The Edinburgh Literary Album). A large bundle of her letters had been found bricked into the chimney by builders when restoring a house (presumably where she lived in St Patrick Square), and have been catalogued and transcribed by an academic. One of the letters was written by Grace from the Royal Edinburgh Hospital, and this made me keen to look up her medical case....

'Ms Webster' was admitted five times to the Royal Edinburgh Hospital between 1845 and 1873 for 'acute mania', an illness which (from her case notes) seemed to consist of erratic behaviour being interspersed with periods of relative mental well-being and calm. For example, on her first admittance,she was described as 'a native of Edinburgh and unmarried but received a good education. Is an Episcopalian and has edited & written several books.... is quiet and industrious & is fond of sorority... is generally considered a person of considerable talent' (LHB7/51/2). Her illness was attributed to 'over do of a romantic state of mind.'

First page of Grace Webster's case (LHB7/51/2)

Grace's quietness and industriousness was not to last long, however, since throughout her admissions, her illness manifested itself in 'abhorrent language' and also more physical acts: tearing her clothes, refusing to be moved, and in breaking windows. This erratic behaviour seems to have earned her a reputation with the doctors and nurses, who moved her between several galleries (wards) of the hospital (including confinement alone) during her time there. Grace seemed to have had little time for her medical attendants, who stated that 'she constantly tries to bring charges against the officers and attendants of cruelty and neglect not so much to herself as to the other patients'. Moreover, Grace is often described as 'obstinate' in her case notes, and her actions can be read as both affects of her illness, or as acts of resistance and defiance against the depersonalising regimes of the hospital (it is mentioned that 'her head was shaved', for example). Her decline is clear to trace, however, for by 1873 she is described as more and more feeble and habouring 'delusions of conspiracies against her'. She was apparently 'still very argumentative and cantankerous', though (which just makes me like her more!).

The two most interesting aspects of her case, however, were the descriptions of her medical treatment and the writing that she did whilst a patient. The enquiries we tend to get about patients at the Royal Edinburgh Hospital usually cover the late nineteenth century: since Grace's case started in the second earliest volume of the case books that we have, I fond a rare excuse to look at descriptions of earlier psychiatric treatment. For example, Grace was proscribed 'a Blue pill & Black draught in the morning'.

All this sounded very strange to me, and I wondered whether I had misread the (quite difficult) handwriting. After some research, though, I found that there was indeed such a thing as a blue pill - coming from schools of thought that advocated purging as a remedy for illness, it was a mercury-based medicine with a laxative effect, with what would now be seen as dangerous levels of mercury. A 'black draught' was another laxative medicine, made of senna with magnesia and licquorice. Grace was also proscribed another form of purging: blood-letting. On her first 1845 admission, she was treated by 'four leeches applied to the temple.' You can read about nineteenth century purging medicines and their context (albeit through United States history) here.

The other factor of interest in Grace's case is mentions of her writing. In her first admission, it is reported that she 'walks about daily and has written a note to her friend'. However, when she next appears in hospital in 1856, she has written a book, which 'was penned shortly after leaving the asylum and in it she exhibited the greatest ingratitude to parties who had treated her with the most uncalled for generosity and benevolence.' Grace Webster's writing seems to be relatively little known, and it is not easy to find out which novel this was.

Grace's letter writing is often referred to in her notes, but no letters from her were inserted in the case books, which does imply that most were sent, as Dr Skae insisted that many letters were in the 1863 annual report mentioned above. Grace certainly wrote to people a lot: doctors reported that she was constantly writing to friends and medical staff saying that she wanted to leave, and this was 'almost daily'. One example of this has been retained: an 1856 'petition' she wrote 'Unto the medical gentlemen and Matrons'.
Petition 'Unto the medical gentlemen and Matrons' (LHB7/51/11)
Insisting that she has been 'greatly insulted and imposed upon by being brought into a place of this kind under false pretenses' (an 'airing for health' in a carriage), Grace goes on to describe the losses she believes that she has incurred as a result of her time in the asylum and its 'bad air': of health, of time and of goods. One thing that I particularly like about this document is the small doodle of a face on the last page: a practice that links people writing freehand across time (but also undermines the tone of officialdom she seemed to want to add to the petition).

Doodle of a face on the 1856 petition
Sadly, Grace died soon after her 1973 discharge from the hospital, but perhaps the letters found in her chimney will inspire a new interest in a much-forgotten life.







Friday, 11 May 2018

A day early...

Tomorrow is Nurses' Day (also Florence Nightingale’s birthday) and an opportunity to celebrate all the amazing work nurses do around the world!

A little closer to home and our blog this week throws a quick spotlight on the collections we hold that relate to nurses and nursing history, and that serve to record the valuable contributions of nurses to healthcare in the Lothians.

Our source list at http://www.lhsa.lib.ed.ac.uk/source/nursing_index.htm gives lots of information about the types of nursing-related material we have, from records that show individual nurses’ experiences, to papers that describe the wider nursing training programmes and their working lives. We have some wonderful photographs of nurses too and you can see a wide selection of these online via Scran: click here to see one of my favourites!

We’re also celebrating nursing as part of our current exhibition, ‘Dawn of a New Era’, to commemorate the NHS's 70th birthday. The exhibition opened in April and will run until 15 August in the Centre for Research Collections, Edinburgh University Main Library – from 22 June we’ll have an additional display case dedicated solely to nursing. 


You can follow all the nursing stories that will be told for Nurses Day on Twitter - look out for hashtags #ThisNurse #NursesDay and #HistNursing.




Friday, 27 April 2018

Saying farewell to LHSA


In this week’s blog, Project Cataloguing Archivist, Clair, shares her final blog with us.
I can’t believe this is the final time I will be blogging for LHSA after what has been an incredible time here for me. LHSA was my starting point into the world of archives when I came for a taster day to see what it was all about, way back in 2013. From then, I was not only hooked on pursuing a career in archives and records management, but I also found a particular interest in medical records.  As someone who had usually strayed away from the world of science and medicine, it surprised me how much social history can also lie within medical archives and it was this combination that made LHSA stand out for me.
After starting up my professional archives qualification in 2013, it became clear that the best way to really get to grips with the training was to gain practical experience within an archive itself. Therefore, throughout this time I also volunteered with LHSA and came here for my course cataloguing placement.
For my slightly younger self, above, this was my first cataloguing experience working on the papers of Dr Anne McLeod Shepherd, who was actively interested in the history of the female medical profession, particularly in the work of Dr Elsie Maud Inglis, to whom her papers mainly relate. From here my volunteering expanded into helping LHSA with their participation in the Royal National Institute for the Blind Scotland Seeing Our History project to index Edinburgh’s Register of the Outdoor Blind from the early 20th century. Once I had finished my professional archival qualification, I got an internship with LHSA to work on improving access to their photographic collection. This was one of my favourites: sheep grazing on the Meadows with the Royal Infirmary of Edinburgh in the background.
P/PL1/B/E/327




I was really grateful that before I had even started in a professional archive post with LHSA that I had already been exposed the great variations within their collections so when the opportunity came up to work at LHSA as Project Cataloguing Archivist I was in luck! Starting on the Wellcome Trust funded HIV/AIDS project Policies, Postcards and Prophylactics: a project to catalogue and conserve LHSA’s UNESCO-awarded HIV/AIDS collections (1983-2010) was perhaps a more usual start to archival cataloguing as the collections contain such modern materials from loose paper documents to balloons and condoms.
Take Care Campaign logo GD24/2


Items from the HIV/AIDS collections including condoms and information cards.

It was a real privilege to work with the LHSA HIV/AIDS collections that are inscribed to the UNESCO UK Memory of the World Register for their significance in documenting the medical and social responses in Edinburgh to fighting HIV and AIDS. Although I did not start at the beginning of this project it was really nice to take it to its end point which allowed me to move on to other LHSA cataloguing projects.



Clinical drawing from the Dott collection.
Again with thanks to Wellcome Trust funding, I have also been able to work on LHSA’s case note cataloguing projects Cataloguing Norman Dott’s neurosurgical case notes (1920-1960) and RVH vs. TB: a project to catalogue LHSA’s Royal Victoria Hospital Tuberculosis and Diseases of the Chest Case Notes and Registers (c.1920-2000). I dipped in and out of these projects, but again seeing them both to their end-point has been extremely satisfying. In terms of cataloguing skills I have learnt how to deal with complex medical data, to create a resource that is both useful to researchers and respectful of confidentially. Medical case notes are such fascinating documents, which has provided me with knowledge about medical specialisms from neuroscience and tuberculosis to sexual dysfunction. Although we are opening up these types of collections for researchers, I have also enjoyed researching their historical context myself for our blogs, a really interesting part of the job.
Example of a TB case note PR2.
LHSA has helped me go from volunteer to a professional in a career that is not only really interesting but also rewarding. It is with huge thanks to my colleagues at LHSA and everyone that I have worked with throughout the Centre for Research Collections for all the support, knowledge and opportunities that I have had along the way!


Friday, 13 April 2018

Welcome to Louise!

This week, we have welcomed our new Access Officer, Louise Neilson, to the LHSA team. She'll be answering quite a few of the hundreds of enquiries we get each year about our material and helping more people access health archives in new ways. It's been great having Louise in the office these past few days, and, as you'll hear below, she's certainly been busy...

My name is Louise Neilson and I am currently enjoying my first week here in my role as Access Officer at Lothian Health Services Archive.
I was born in raised in the town of Kirkintilloch, which lies 8 miles north of Glasgow. I decided not to stray too far from home and studied my undergraduate degree in History at the University of Glasgow. My passion for archives began a decade ago when I gained some voluntary experience at the Royal College of Physicians and Surgeons of Glasgow. The contrast of the beautiful interior of the St Vincent Street townhouse combined with the macabre nature of the material in the collection had me hooked. I never would have guessed that learning about wet cupping would dictate my career path, but from that point on I knew what that working with archives was what I wanted to do. After that, I gained as much experience as I could in a range of archival institutions from the Glasgow Women’s Library to the Manchester Central Library. In 2013, I began my formal training and completed an MSc in Information Management and Preservation at the University of Glasgow. I then began an internship at the archive of Harper Collins Publishers before joining full time as an Archives Assistant to help prepare for their global bicentenary celebrations in 2017. During my time there, I was fortunate enough to catalogue the collections of some of the world’s most celebrated authors: most notably the Queen of Crime, Agatha Christie.

Since arriving here at LHSA, I have been trying to absorb a mountain of information while simultaneously trying my best not to get lost or set off alarms. The extent of the resources available here at the Centre for Research Collections is staggering and I cannot wait to get to know the team and their roles a little better. I have been introduced to the LHSA collection and I already have a long list of items I want to pore over in time. I was particularly drawn to the patient case notes from the Royal Edinburgh Hospital. The case books date from 1840-1932 and the detailed notes that can sometimes include patient photographs help connect you to the personal and human element of medical records. Many of the stories are tinged with tragedy. The depth of information covers details such as marital status, religion, habits, historical health issues, and disposition as well as documenting patients' perceived mental and physical health during their admission.

 
Case Book from the Royal Edinburgh Hospital (LHB7/51/68)

I have been overwhelmed by the level of support that I have received from both LHSA and the CRC staff since arriving timidly on Monday, and I am excited to learn more about how my role can help provide access to the fantastic collections and resources on offer here.

Friday, 23 March 2018

Archive to Z!

This week, Archivist Louise has been joining the twenty-first century with a spot of tweeting!

The next couple of years will be busy ones for archive professionals in Scotland. Our national professional association, the Archives and Records Association, is holding its conference in Glasgow later this year, and in 2019 Edinburgh will welcome archive professionals from across the globe when the International Council on Archives arrive for their annual gathering.

To count down to a jam-packed programme at the ARA conference in Glasgow, our local archives group, ARA Scotland, asked local archives to join a campaign on Twitter, highlighting a different item from their collections each week in an archive A to Z. Social media is becoming more and more important in the heritage sector in reaching new and more diverse audiences, helps get rid of our unfair 'dusty old books' image and can be a quick way to tell lots of people about collections and events. So I took the bull by the horns and compiled an introduction to LHSA in 26 letters. We've got to 'C' so far, and to whet your appetite for the weeks to come, here are the images from the LHSA collections shared on Twitter...

A is definitely for animals. Well, for me at least. I'll never miss a chance to share a picture of a puppy or a kitten. Although hospitals are very much about treating people, staff often kept pets (as seen in the dogs and cats so often featured in pictures of Royal Infirmary residents) and we also have pictures of animals kept in war hospitals, a comfort to patients and staff in a harrowing time:

A cairn terrier (I think!) with an injured First World War soldier at Edenhall Hospital for Limbless Sailors and Soldiers, LHB54/4/1
For the Twitter project, though, I chose this postcard from physician Alexander Murray Drennan:

Postcard from collection of Alexander Murray Drennan, c. 1900s, GD9/9
 Eventual Chair of Pathology at the University of Edinburgh, Drennan pioneered the use of boric acid and bleaching powder in the treatment of wounds in the First World War. We have a sizeable personal and medical collection from him, fascinating in some of its detail and connections. If you want to find out more about Drennan, our former Access Officer, Alice, wrote a fascinating blog about him here. For me, the postcard also shows the accidental pieces of pop culture that are so often preserved in archives - part of what makes delving into personal collections like this such a surprise.

B is for Bangour. I use the collection of the West Lothian psychiatric institution, Bangour Village Hospital, quite a bit in research that I do for genealogy enquiries. Due to the rich nature of 'asylum' records that we preserve, the records are understandably popular with academic researchers and genealogy researchers alike. However, the hospital was taken over in both world wars by the military, when it became Edinburgh War Hospital, and the psychiatric patients transferred to other institutions. Edinburgh War Hospital's First World War history has understandably got quite a bit of attention recently due to the centenary commemorations, but for 'B' I chose this Second World War album page from nurse and occupational therapist, Jean Currie:

A page from Jean Currie's photograph album, GD1/141/5
Jean's aunt, nursing sister Isabella Lamont, also worked at Bangour in the Edinburgh War Hospital in the First World War - their collections were donated to us together. Since we don't hold records of forces' patients on the whole, albums like this give us a precious glimpse into military hospital life. Expect to hear more about Second World War military medicine as the 80th anniversary comes up in 2019.

We reached C this week, so my final photo for now is this one from City Hospital, showing nursing staff in 1906:
1906 City Hospital nursing staff, P/PL23

City Hospital was opened in 1903 as part of the Edinburgh scheme of tuberculosis, pioneered by Sir Robert Philip from the 1880s. It replaced the previous fever hospital complex in High School Yards. As the threat of infectious diseases waned with advances in public health and treatment, City began to widen its remit to take in other specialisms, such as cardio-thoracic surgery and ear nose and throat care. More recently, City made history once more in its groundbreaking wards treating HIV patients, particularly those affected by intravenous drug use.

Remember to check our Twitter feed every Monday for the rest of the alphabet! In the meantime, here are some images to come. Can you guess what letters they will be under (so no captions for these!)?




If you would like to search for images from across Scotland's archive, search for the hashtag #ArchiveZ




Friday, 23 February 2018

A poet's war


A large part of LHSA's work is answering enquiries from the public about our holdings - last year, we dealt with around 900 of them! In investigating one query sent to us, LHSA volunteer Ellen Black delved deeper into a figure we previously weren't aware of...

LHSA recently received an interesting enquiry linked to our collections from the Craigleith Military Hospital (situated on the grounds of the present-day Western General Hospital). The enquiry relates to the Scottish poet and solider, Hamish Mann, who was heavily involved in the hospital’s magazine, The Craigleith Chronicle.

2nd Scottish General Hospital, Craigleith c. 1914 (GD28/8/1)
Mann often wrote powerful depictions of the horrors of war, or amusing skits to raise the morale of his men, and sent them back to The Chronicle to be published under the pen-name ‘Lucas Cappe’. Mann’s role as a volunteer at the hospital meant that his life and works were unknown within the collection until the recent enquiry. However, approaching the centenary of Armistice Day in 1918, Mann’s writings and tragic death continue to reveal important insight into the devastation caused by the First World War.

Hamish Mann in uniform (image from www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.uk)
Alexander James ‘Hamish’ Mann was born in Broughty Ferry in April 1896, the youngest of five children. He was educated at George Watson’s College in Edinburgh and subsequently under home tuition, due to Cardiomyopathy (an enlarged heart), a condition that kept him bedridden.

On the outbreak of war in 1914, Hamish was 18 years old. At this stage there was no conscription, and men who wished to enlist had to wait until their 19th birthday. Keen to contribute to the war effort, Hamish volunteered at Craigleith Military Hospital, where he co-edited The Craigleith Chronicle.

Mann began his officer training in July 1915, and was drafted to France in August 1916, joining the 8th Battalion Black Watch near Bethune. It seems that Hamish did not disclose his heart condition upon enlistment. He fought in several battles of the Somme, leading his men into battles and on long marches, despite his heart condition.  Hamish Mann died on the 10th April 1917, five days after his 21st birthday following being mortally wounded at the Battle of Arras. His parents collected his poetry, and published it as A Subaltern’s Musings in 1918.


Craigleith Hospital Chronicle (GD1/82/1)
The Craigleith Chronicle began publishing volumes in 1914 and continued producing magazines until the end of the war. The Chronicle detailed the day to day lives of those at the hospital and contained feature articles sent from troops fighting overseas. The Chronicle gives important insight into contemporary medicine, hospital management and personal accounts of the nature of war. The juxtaposition of harrowing accounts of warfare and satirical writings, alongside first-hand insight into war effort at home and overseas, seems to have proved popular among The Chronicle’s ever-growing subscription base.

Hamish Mann’s works are woven throughout The Chronicle’s pages until his death. A particularly emotive poem written under his pen-name was published in the August 1916 edition. ‘The Digger’, highlights the unglamorous reality of war on the Western Front and contrasts Mann’s earlier light-hearted works published during his time volunteering.

The Digger
‘He was digging, digging, digging with his little pick and spade,
And when the Dawn was rising it was trenches that he made;
But when the day was over and the sun was sinking red, –
He was digging little Homes of Rest for comrades who were dead ….’

Here is a selection of Mann’s earlier contribution to The Chronicle, before his war service, demonstrating the impact of war upon his writings:





If you'd like to learn more about Hamish Mann, our enquirer will be bringing out a book about his life and writings later this year, so we'll keep you posted!

Friday, 9 February 2018

Gertrude Herzfeld: Paving the way for female surgeons


In this week's blog we are recognising International Day of Women and Girls in Science by taking a look at the life of Scotland's first practicing female surgeon, Gertrude Herzfeld.


The upcoming International Day of Women and Girls in Science on 11th February 2018 is a chance to promote the globally recognised goals to achieve full science and gender equality. A persistent gender gap underrepresents the participation of women and girls in education, training and employment in areas of science, technology and engineering. Here at LHSA we can find many examples amongst our collections of extraordinary women who fought many barriers and prejudices of history to make their mark in the field of science and medicine. One of our more unsung heroines Gertrude Herzfeld (1890 – 1981) is a perfect example of this and will represent our recognition of International day of Woman and Girls in Science. Celebrating Herzfeld, although a figure of history, is inspirational to the fight that still exists to empower women and girls to achieve full and equal access to participate in science. 
Gertrude Herzfeld (LHB8/71/1)
Herzfeld, born in London in 1890 to Austrian parents, first made her mark in studying medicine at the University of Edinburgh, graduating in 1914. Although early in life Herzfeld had aspirations of being a doctor, being a woman at this time was strongly against a career choice in medicine. Least of all, women had to attended separate lectures from men at university and at the University of Edinburgh the Faculty of Medicine did not admit women on an entirely equal footing to men until 1916[1]. Nevertheless, from here she based much of her career in Edinburgh and is most famously known for being the first practicing female surgeon in Scotland. She was appointed as surgeon at the Royal Edinburgh hospital for Sick Children (together with LHSA favourite Norman Dott) and the Chalmers Hospital in 1925. Eventually she also took on the role of surgeon at Edinburgh Orthopaedic clinic (1925-1955) and at Bruntsfield hospital for Women and Children. Herzfeld was the first female practicing surgeon to become a Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons of Edinburgh, taking her seat in 1920.
Royal Edinburgh Hospital for Sick Children (LHB5)
Over the next twenty to thirty years Herzfeld practiced and developed a wide range of procedures in paediatric and gynaecological surgery, becoming a specialist in abdominal, neonatal, orthopaedic and plastic surgery as well as the treatments of burns and trauma.  Aside from her surgical practice she gain accolade in her teaching and publishing, lecturing on childhood surgery at the University of Edinburgh and at the Edinburgh School of Chiropody, of which she was also a founding member. Throughout this time she was also medical advisor to the Edinburgh Cripple Aid Society and Trefoil School for Physically Handicapped Children. In later life Herzfeld chaired the Edinburgh City branch of the British Medical Association and was the National President of the Medical Women’s Federation between 1948-1950.









A selection of Herzfeld's publications 1925-1950 (LHB8/15/12)



Aside from these achievements and contributions to her field (but what also probably underwrote many of her great accomplishments in life) it seems Herzfeld was full of warmth and wisdom. It was noted that she showed real compassion to her patients and colleagues, in return she was affectionately nicknamed ‘Gertie’. One contemporary described her as, “Large in heart and in mind”.[2] As a highly skilled surgeon she was known to have performed the ‘Stiles’ Procedure’ to treat infants with inguinal hernia six times in fifty minuets! But even more than her professional brilliance she greatly respected her patients as individuals, getting to know their own social and psychological circumstances. Herzfeld reflected on this, "Orthopaedic surgery in the young child should really be linked with the general care of the child".[3] Through her practice and teaching Herzfeld was a great promoter of women in medicine and continued to support their fight against the barriers and challenges she faced in her own career. Herzfeld died aged 90 in Edinburgh in 1981. Her legacy paved the way for female surgeons in Scotland and she is remembered as an inspirational woman of medicine and science.
Herzfeld’s portrait is hung at the Royal College of Surgeons in Edinburgh and her name is in the bank for Edinburgh City Council to use as a future street name – so there is potential for a little lasting tribute.

 


[1] University of Edinburgh. 2016. Alumni in History. [ONLINE] Available at: https://www.ed.ac.uk/alumni/services/notable-alumni/alumni-in-history/gertrude-herzfeld. [Accessed 5 February 2018].
[2] Macintyre, I and MacLaren, I (Eds.). Surgeons’ Lives (2005). Pg. 198.
[3] Herzfeld, G. (1949). Twenty-Five Years of Paediatric Surgery - A Retrospect. [Publication] Lothian Health Services Archive, Bruntsfield Hospital. Edinburgh.