Category Archives: Lisa Smith

Impotence in the Archives: or, a Research Trip Failed

By Lisa Smith, W&M Contributor

A year ago I went to Paris on a week-long research trip. My goal was to look at eighteenth-century impotence trials, part of the Série Z at the Archives Nationales. I planned to compare them with English impotence trials that I had already examined.

French historians and archive workers had been occupying part of the building to protest Sarkozy's proposed (rightwing) museum.

There were the standard research problems, of course. The handwriting was unusually terrible. The boxes were unsorted and contained few, if any, impotence trials, which were challenging to find. But the biggest difficulty was entirely unexpected. Série Z closed for maintenance every second day during that week.*  This mystified the counter-staff as much as me. Each time, they were unaware of the closure.

Previously, my research method had been to transcribe notes by hand, then review them afterwards. To the growing number of historians who prefer to take photographs of archival documents, this seems a bit quaint. On this rapidly passing trip with its two fruitless days, I certainly did not have the luxury of time. Instead, I photographed the trial records like mad, writing brief outlines of the cases. Each night I organised the photos and turned them into pdf files, hopeful about the possibilities for my new use of photography. I thought how nice it would be to have images of the documents to hand.

But a year on, I’ve realised a key problem in this system: much of my work in archives is tied to physical memory. Looking back at my notes over the years, I can remember the way in which documents looked or smelled at the time. More importantly, I can remember where to find specific points in my notes. I recall in detail the stories from the English trial records, but the French ones only fleetingly, even though I have since read through the files a couple times. It has become clear to me that I need another French research trip – this time simply to sit in my office transcribing the files stored on my computer – if my knowledge of the trial records is ever to become potent.

How do you internalise your material when doing research?

 

*Admittedly, this allowed me to have leisurely lunches and sightsee, so all was not in vain.

 

Lisa Smith is an Associate Professor of History at the University of Saskatchewan. She writes on gender, family, and health care in England and France (ca. 1600-1800).

An Epidemic Caused by Alcohol: Beaune, 1746

By Lisa Smith (W&M Regular Contributor)

After the Battle of Rocoux (11 October, 1746), several Dutch prisoners of war were held in Beaune (Burgundy).  Townsmen were recruited as guards, with local lawyers and physicians – men of responsibility – as captains. Physician Vivant-Augustin Ganiare (1698-1781) expressed concerns about the prisoners being a potential source of contagion in November. They had dysentery and seemed to be the source of a local worm outbreak.

Over Christmas, several young captains provided their men with wine and tobacco to help morale, which led first to “bacchanals” and then to the worst-ever hangover: a flu-like epidemic for the whole town. Men, especially those who had been on recent guard duty, were the main victims. Women and children in turn caught it from male family members.

An unnamed ‘Monsieur’ aged 37 was typical. He spent two nights on watch with his friends, where they drank and danced with the prisoners. Off duty, he ran about the streets in “excessive joy”. The alcohol’s effects were worsened by sudden temperature changes between the heat of revelry and the cold outside.

Fraternization was bad enough, but the underlying problem was failed leadership. Ganiare was unsurprised that nearly all of Monsieur Navetier’s men had died since Navetier had been particularly generous. The captains should have known better than to give their men booze. The entire town now suffered from their foolishness!

Ganiare maintained detailed notes of interesting cases and monthly summaries of general health trends, crops and weather. As a man of science, Ganiare wanted to identify patterns in epidemics and weather; as a religious man, he hoped to see the hand of God in nature. By uncovering nature’s secrets, he hoped to control disease outbreaks.

This time Ganiare had no need to search further for nature’s secrets. His conclusion? The epidemic, caused by fraternization and carousing, had been entirely preventable.

A cautionary tale for the festive season…

Lisa Smith is an Associate Professor of History at the University of Saskatchewan. She writes on gender, family, and health care in England and France (ca. 1600-1800).

Image:  Hospital (Hôtel-Dieu), Beaune: courtyard. Credit: Wellcome Library, London.

 

Manly Menstruation?

By Lisa Smith (W&M Regular Contributor)

In 1780, physician M. Carrere wrote a letter to the French Royal Society of Medicine describing the unusual case of a twenty-five year old miller, Jacques Sola, who bled monthly from his right little finger. Sola became ill with dysentery and peripneumonia in 1764. The cause? Sola’s blood flow had been blocked when he stayed too long in the shadow of a windmill. Carrere cured Sola by bleeding him to re-start his ‘evacuation’.

Credit: Wellcome Library Images

Two years later Carrere treated Sola for a bloody cough, again caused by the suppression of Sola’s ordinary bleeding. Carrere had since moved away, but now wondered if Sola still had regular flows, or if there was ‘a fixed time for their cessation’ as in women.

Menstruation wasn’t understood as specifically connected to reproduction until the nineteenth century. It was one of many indications of female fertility, but all were tied to a woman’s overall health. In the Middle Ages, menstruation was seen as poisonous, but eighteenth-century physicians saw it as nature’s way of purging women’s surplus blood (plethora) that developed throughout the month. When normal menstruation stopped, whether by pregnancy, fright or emotional imbalance, the blood might force atypical routes out of the body. Unrelieved plethora clogged up the body, causing disease.

Since men sweat, they didn’t ordinarily develop plethora, although men who were sedentary or ate too much might – like scholars and clergymen. Some plethoric men bled periodically and regularly: by the nose (adolescence), lungs (young men), haemorrhoids (middle-age) and urine (old age). Men and women whose bodies didn’t self-regulate needed surgical bleeding to prevent or cure illness.

Physicians and surgeons in seventeenth- and eighteenth-century Europe widely discussed similar cases of ‘menstruating men’. The sexed bodies that we see today as being self-evident were ambiguously understood in the past when knowledge was observational: why wouldn’t men and women have similar flows?

But throughout the eighteenth century such tales were increasingly rare as medical men began to see male and female bodies as distinct rather than parallel.

Lisa Smith is an Associate Professor of History at the University of Saskatchewan. She writes on gender, family, and health care in England and France (ca. 1600-1800).