Forgotten medical instruments

While browsing old local newspapers, I discovered a reported theft of a urinometer. I wondered whether it did what I thought it did – it didn’t, it actually measures the specific gravity of urine, from which doctors claimed they could assess kidney function.

This did set me wondering whether there were other obsolete medical items and what they did – read on….

Trephines were used for making holes in the skull, the process known as trepanning.

Ecraseurs were used to strangle tumors, particularly in the uterus or ovary. It worked by tightening a wire loop around the base of the tumor.

Surgical guillotine was employed for urgent amputations, where surgeons decreed creating a flap of skin to fold over the wound would delay the procedure to an unacceptable degree.

Brass scarificators were considered a big step forward – we might view something which replaced leeches in the practice of blood letting rather differently.

Spinal saws were used for removing bone after fractures or deformities were diagnosed.

Surgical hammer – must have been of some use, and afterwards you can call a toffee hammer.

Skin hooks were obviously used to hold back the skin while playing around inside – but they do seem quite terrifying.

The Crying Game

For writers it is useful to have a number of synonyms and idioms to describe the same thing. It strikes me that the many terms for ‘crying’ are particularly useful as it gives the reader an idea of the emotional state of the individual.

Grizzle is British slang – the term has always meant ‘greying’ – and is normally used to describe the crying of an infant over a trivial matter.

Weep was not used in this sense until the end of the 16th century, prior to that it was used as a synonym for ‘shout, cry out’.

Tears is not used in the crying sense until the middle of the 14th century.

Sob is found from the early 13th century – although we had to wait until 1911 to hear our first sob story.

Wails were not heard in the crying sense until the 14th century.

Bawl really means to ‘howl like a dog’ or ‘to reprimand loudly’, the crying sense seems to have evolved as a misunderstanding.

Howl has been used to mean ‘cry aloud’ since the 14th century – and likely came to refer to crying when describing loud weeping.

Snivel really refers to a runny nose, and came to be used for crying as one without the other is unlikely.

Whimper has been used for crying since the early 18th century.

Whine is another transferred word, initially associated with the sound made when crying quietly.

Squall has been used to mean cry aloud since around 1630.

Mewl is correctly the sound made by cats, clearly transferred when considered to be a similar noise when crying.

Blubber has been known since the early 15th century.

Keening has only been used as a synonym for crying since 1811.

Turn on the waterworks originated in the 19th century. It is from a theatrical reference to a mechanism simulating tears on stage and eventually used as an expression.

Piping your eye is rarely used these days, but is an archaic phrase so old it is impossible to know how it originated.

The Black Hole of Calcutta

As with the last couple of posts, my interest in the Black Hole of Calcutta story came when I stumbled on some contemporary(ish) reports when researching a completely unrelated subject. A reported 23 out 146 survived from the Black Hole of Calcutta incident – we know the names, can we find out what happened to them?

The night of June 20th 1756 has gone down in history and even become part of the English language - most will have heard it's 'like the black hole of Calcutta in here' to describe stygian darkness.

After the fall of Fort William to Bengali forces under the leadership of Siraj-ud-Daulah, the Nawab of Bengal, surviving British soldiers, Indian sepoys and Indian civilians were imprisoned in a dungeon measuring 18 x 14 feet (5.5 x 4.3 metres) at 8pm and left until 6am next morning without food nor water.

And now the tale gets complicated. Most stories state there were 146 prisoners in that small space, of which 123 died overnight. But that is all based on the report from one survivor: East India Company employee John Zephaniah Holwell. However, later historians doubt that figure and speak of 64 imprisoned and 21 survivors, and another that only 18 died (although the latter does not give a total number of prisoners).

It is claimed the Nawab only learned of the suffering after their release, although this was disputed. The survivors were subsequently treated as prisoners of war.

The Nawab was punished for his part, Lieutenant Colonel Robert Clive retook Calcutta in January 1757 and Siraj was executed.

Named survivors, courtesy of Holwell, are - John Holwell himself, of course. A surgeon in the British East India Company, he studied at Guys Hospital but achieved much in his reports on such as the inoculation again smallpox in India, and went on to succeed Robert Clive as Governor of Bengal in 1760, then being elected a Fellow of the Royal Society in 1767. Yet possibly he is best remembered for being the first British person to study and write on Hinduism.

A person named Court is cited, but we have no idea of this person’s first name and thus no clue as to their gender.

Secretary Cook’s subsequent life proved quite normal. Returning to England, he and his wife Mary had no less than eleven children while he worked as a clerk in London.

Henry Lushington came from Tamworth, after surviving the Calcutta ordeal he was later murdered by a German aged just 26. There is a memorial to him at St Mary’s, Eastbourne.

Burdett, like Court, has no other record of his life.

Ensign Edward Walcot’s family came from Walcot in Shropshire. Born in 1738 in Croagh, Ireland, he died soon after his release.

Bowes Walcot, younger brother of Edward, was a Captain in the 3rd Regiment.

Mrs Mary Carey continued to live in Calcutta until her death on March 28th 1801 at the age of 60. Buried in the Portuguese churchyard in Calcutta, her grave was marked by a plaque until the burial ground was cleared when the church was enlarged.

Captain Mills is given as a survivor, yet there is good evidence to show he was never actually in the dungeon. Records show he and a Mr Grey escaped and sent to Chandernagore, arriving on July 2nd.

Captain Dickson is another of which nothing further is known.

Mr Moran, likewise, is subsequently unrecorded.

Similarly John Meadows has nothing to show other than his survival.

Twelve military and militia (blacks and whites) are unnamed and thus, unsurprisingly, have nothing to say on them.

The Second Titanic Murderer

William Mintram was a fireman stoker aboard the Titanic when it was hit by the iceberg. While Robert Hitchens’ accusations came after the sinking, Mintram was gaoled in 1902.

Married to Eliza since August 1886 – they had five children, their daughter Rosina married Walter Hurst, also a fireman stoker on the Titanic - a row between them in October 1902 (he complained his wife had pawned their son’s shoes to pay for her drinking) he stabbed her in the back. In court he gave evidence saying he was drunk at the time and remembered nothing other than her rushing at him.

Sentenced to twelve years after being found guilty of manslaughter but was released after three and joined the ill-fated maiden voyage along with his son-in-law. Mintram did get his hands on a lifejacket, but when he saw his son-in-law Walter without same, he passed across his lifejacket thus helping to save his life.

The First Titanic Murderer

Much interest in the Titanic of late with release of the computer-generated images of the wreck - and, of course, through a certain editing job recently completed – which reminded me of a few notes I made when researching something completely different.

The name of Robert Hitchens probably isn’t well known to most, but shortly after the vessel sank the man was notorious. No less than seven quartermasters were aboard the vessel, 29-year-old Hitchens being just one. Indeed, it was he who was at the ship’s wheel when the liner hit the iceberg. But it was for his subsequent actions he hit the headlines.

Put in charge of Lifeboat No.6, he refused to return to the sinking vessel after launching, for he feared the boat would be sucked under with the wreck or swamped by the large number of people in the water. For this he was charged with murder.

His unpopularity wasn’t helped by reports coming from those he did rescue having heard several comments. These included referring to the bodies in the water as ‘stiffs’; critical of those manning the lifeboat’s oars; ordering his charges to keep rowing to keep warm when the Carpathia arrived to ‘pick up the dead’; and at least two survivors later accused him of being drunk.

Suggestions he should be charged with murder were never anything but speculative as a result of the enquiry, he was exonerated as he was simply obeying orders given by Captain Edward Smith and second mate Charles Lightoller. He did serve four years for the attempted murder of Harry Henley from 1933.

In the 1998 film – never bothered watching it, I know how it ends – Hitchens is portrayed as a tall, slim cockney. Hitchens was a stocky 5.1/2 feet tall Cornishman. However, he did die at sea – aboard a ship at anchor off Aberdeen in 1940, the result of heart failure.