Author Archives: Katie Maggs, Curator of Medicine

Be Mine Anti-Valentine

Valentine’s Day is like herpes: just when you think its gone for good, it  rears its ugly head once more (and perhaps it’s no coincidence its initials are the same as Veneral Disease?). Are you cringing from all the cutesy declarations of love? Avoiding all aphrodisiacs (including heart-shaped vegetables – no seriously they exist!)? Well here’s some suggestions from our collections of what not to give the love of your life on VD day…

1. Cosmetic Enhancement.

Cosmetic devices from the 1700s, England. (Image credit: Science Museum)

Breast pads to enhance cleavage, cork discs to plump out hollow cheeks, and a multitude of beauty spots to hide smallpox scars – whilst this cosmetic kit might have gone down a storm in the 1700s, as a surprise Valentine’s gift today it might leave your beau wondering why you’re focusing on their flaws just a tad too much.

To be fair – cosmetic enhancement isn’t always unromantic. Some people (and not even in the distant past!) would give their loved ones the gift of new dentures – which meant having all your teeth removed first. Ahhh there’s nothing that says “I love you” like serious dental work.

2.  A Chastity Belt.

Iron chastity belt, Europe, 1501-1600. Ah the heart detail on this chastity belt says it all. (Image credit: Science Museum)

Hmm me’thinks in this day and age a chastity belt screams trust issues. Whilst seemingly medieval - the majority of chastity belts and the stories that surround them appear to be the product of over-active 19th Century imaginations. So whilst your intention may be to present this padlocked token of love to your chosen lady to help her demonstrate her devotion – it’ll  definitely leave her thinking that you’re stuck in the Dark Ages.

3. Gonorrhoea Pants.

‘Gonorrhoea’ lingerie used in TV 'Essential Wear' ad campaign, London, England, 2007 (Image credit: Science Museum)

Whilst lingerie is usually the order on Valentine’s Day, this lacy little number probably won’t help you get into someone’s knickers. (Still – they could prove handy if you need to pass on a not so subtle message about what you inadvertently picked up there…).

4. A Heart Resuscitator.

Defibrillator, London, England, 1970-1980. (Image credit: Science Museum)

A heart-felt gift (groan!) of one of these would sure cause a shock (bigger groan!). That is assuming you don’t need an ECG to check that your loved one  is still sending you heart signals…

Developed in the 1950s, defibrillators deliver electric shocks to the chest. It’s used when the electrical signals in a person’s heart ventricles become chaotic – causing their heart to stop beating effectively.  Sadly, I don’t think it can be applied to heart-ache caused by erratic relationships.

5.  Scold’s Bridle.

A scold's bridle, Germany, 1550-1800. One of the more disturbing items in the collection. (Image Credit: Science Museum)

Used up until the early 1800s, Scold’s bridles were used as a punishments for women considered to be spending too much time gossiping or quarrelling – as wearing the mask prevented speech.  As a gift with the phone bill in mind – probably a no no.

Still, might come in handy if nagging for a decent Valentine gift gets too much?

‘A weapon calling for careful handling’…

February 4th marks World Cancer Day. Alongside surgery, chemotherapy and hormone treatment, radiotherapy has been a mainstay of cancer treatment for well over 100 years. Just weeks after Wilhelm Roentgen’s discovery of x-rays in 1895, student doctors began experimenting with the mysterious rays to treat cancer, and other conditions such as ringworm.

By the 1920s, x-ray generators weren’t capable of making the intense beams of radiation needed to treat certain tumours. Hospitals turned to experimenting with radioactive materials such as radium.

This strange looking contraption is a radium ‘bomb’. It’s a rather ingenious machine developed at London’s Westminster Hospital for cancer treatment in the early 1930s.  

The 'bomb' - the egg-shaped treatment head pictured on the left – was a lead-lined container for radium that restricted the beam of radiation. It was extremely heavy, and to keep it in position its weight was offset by the counterbalance you see at the bottom. (credit: Science Museum Photo Studio).

Why does it look so odd? Well its designers were faced with several difficult dilemmas – how to deliver treatment to the patient whilst keeping staff safe from radiation exposure? With radium costing over £200,000 an ounce, maximizing the effect of the few grams of radium received on loan from the government, was a critical concern.

Like much experimental medical apparatus, this equipment was made in the hospital’s own workshops. In fact it was made up of bits of bike! Staff could be kept at a safe distance when positioning the ‘bomb’, and to expose the patient’s tumour to the radium – a shutter was operated via a bicycle brake cable.

When not in use, hospitals would keep radium buried in lead-lined chambers – protection that became critical with the impending threat of actual bombs during the Second World War.

Women painting alarm clock faces

Women painting alarm clock faces, Ingersoll factory, January 1932 (Science Museum)

Cancer treatment went on to change rapidly. More powerful radiation sources were developed, such as linear accelerators. Atomic reactors also helped to transform the situation – through producing large amounts of alternative radioactive material such as cobalt-60.

Lil’ Ol’ St Nick

Whether its Santa Claus, Kris Kringle or Father Christmas, we have quite a fixed  image (soft-drink company influenced?) in our heads of what the man delivering presents down the chimney should look like. But could this be what the original ‘Santa’ really looked like…?

Wooden statue of St Nicholas, France, 1801-1900 (Image credit: Science Museum)

This rather charming tabbarded fellow in our collections is Saint Nicholas. He looks distinctly un-santa-esque because he was in fact the Bishop of Myra (now south-west Turkey) during the third century. Pictured with three children, it’s not surprising to find that Nicholas became the patron saint of young people. During his lifetime, he had a reputation for secret gift-giving, such as putting coins in the shoes of those who left them out for him. Because of the many miracles attributed to him, he was also known as Nikolaos the Wonderworker - (imagine Santa with a superhero cape!).

But where does the Santa connection fit in? In the Netherlands (and other European countries), the evening before Saint Nicholas’s feast day (on 6 December) is the primary occasion for gift-giving – which in Dutch is Sinterklaas (like saying Saint Nicholas really quickly!).

Turns out that Lil’ Ol’ St Nick is also the patron saint of sailors, unmarried women, apothecaries, perfumers and pawnbrokers. Well with all that to deal with at least now we know what else Santa gets up to for the rest of the year

The 12 days of Christmas (well sort of)… Part 1

It’s that time of year again – time to bellow “five go-oold rings” at the top of your voice. We’ve put together a Christmas cracker of a treat for you with our own alternative version of the Twelve Days of Christmas

On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me…

A partridge in a pear tree

Well – a sauce container shaped like a partridge at any rate. A rather fetching centrepiece for the festive dinner table maybe? Certainly another weird and wonderful object collected by Henry Wellcome in the early twentieth century. Frankly any beau of mine giving me a partridge (alive or in ceramic form) would quickly be crossed off my festive shopping list…

Sauce boat in the form of a partridge, decorated with polychrome majolica, Italian, 1840-1900 (Image Credit: Katie Maggs, Science Museum)

Two Turtle Doves

Although it sounds like a freakish genetic experiment to cross-breed a reptile and a bird, the Turtle Dove is actually a rather glamorous cousin of the pigeon.

In its place we have a rather lovely hidden treasure from our Blythe House store - a mother-of-pearl charm shaped as a dove. And if peace on earth isn’t enough, here’s an equally splendid beaded turtle amulet to wish you good health (this amulet may contain a piece of umbilical cord – check out the link to find out why!).

A mother-of-pearl dove, French, 1880-1935 (Image credit: Katie Maggs, Science Museum)

Turtle shaped amulet, North America, 1880-1920 (Image Credit: Science Museum)

Three French Hens

These hens might not be French (or technically hens as i think these are male chucks, and ok – there’s only two rather than three in the picture…) - BUT they are Nobel Prize wining poultry. Thomas Hunt Morgan (1866-1945) bred this pair of Sebright Bantams in order to investigate the genetic inheritance of plumage and inadvertently discovered the role played by chromosomes in heredity.

Sebright bantam, United States, 1914-1924
Sebright bantams, United States, 1914-1924

Hope you’ve enjoyed part 1 of our festive foray into the collections – check back for the next 3 installments, and have a very Merry Christmas!

We’re all mugs for a royal wedding…

Oh we all love a royal wedding. With memorabilia manufacturers wasting no time to issue commemorative souvenirs featuring Prince William and his future missus, Kate Middleton, it’s an opportune moment to examine a few monarchical mementoes from our own collections…

Mugs to celebrate the marriage of Charles, HRH Prince of Wales and Lady Diana Spencer, were presented to child patients at the Lord Mayor Treloar Orthopaedic Hospital, Alton, England.

Charles and Diana commemorative mug, 1981. Credit: Science Museum, London

I’m rather a fan of this royal silhouette vase (Can you see it? Can you see it?!!!), created as part of an illusions exhibition for display in the Millennium Dome. Though not wedding ware, the original vase made by Kaiser Porcelain, celebrated Queen Elizabeth II’s Silver Jubilee of 1977.

Can you guess who it is yet? The vase's shape creates an optical illusion, showing the profiles of the Queen and Prince Philip, the Duke of Edinburgh. Credit: Science Museum / Science & Society Picture Library

If that isn’t ostentatious enough for you, check out this extravagant cigar holder, celebrating the coronation of the Bavarian king, Ludwig II in 1864.  With a penchant for building fairytale-like castles, Ludwig became known variously as The Swan King, the Fairy Tale King and latterly ‘Mad King Ludwig’.

Cigar holder representing the coronation of King Ludwig II of Bavaria, Munich, Germany, 1864-1867

Clearly, ornate meerschaum pipes (a versatile clay-like material) were the royal souvenir fad of the day. Here’s another from the 1880s, this time picturing the coronation (or possibly wedding) of Frederick III, Emperor of Germany, and his consort Victoria.  Perhaps it’s time to resurrect the ornate pipe to mark Will and Kate’s nuptial celebrations?

Nothing more tasteful than commemorating a royal celebration with a giant ornate pipe. Credit: Science Museum, London

Finally, whilst nowadays there’s no pressure to produce an heir, Kate might still want to check out our Royal Births game for some tips…

Collecting the uncollectable?

There are some stories you read in the press that you immediately react to as a curator. For me recently it was reading about the first UK Service of Dedication for lives lost to eating disorders that took place at Southwark Cathedral.

Sensing an acquisition in sight, I contacted b-eat - a UK charity for people with eating disorders – to get hold of a copy of the Order of Service.

Recent acquisition. Order of Service from Southwark Cathedral dedicated to lives lost to eating disorders (Credit: Science Museum).

Eating disorders such as Anorexia Nervosa and Bulimia Nervosa are such prevalent mental health problems – affecting 1.6 million people in the UK alone – yet such experiences are barely documented through material culture at all.

Part of the problem is that there might not be any objects to collect. Can we document mental health experiences (depression for example) when they seemingly aren’t embodied in objects or expressed through stuff?

Why collect objects to represent such illnesses anyway?

With an anthropological hat on, documenting experiences and reactions to eating disorders reveals a lot about us as a society –  the significance of food and health, perceptions of beauty, and how our bodies respond to stress.

Historically, how societies have treated self-starvation is fascinating. Apollonia Schreier, a German woman, was credited with almost mystical abilities after refusing food for 11 months.

Engraving of Apollonia Schreier by Paullus Lentillus after her alleged fast of 11 months, at Galz, near Berne, 1604. (Source: Wellcome Library)

Of course we can’t treat such experiences as ‘Anorexia’ – the condition didn’t medically exist until the late nineteenth century. But by documenting historical and contemporary experiences through material culture, we can perhaps understand a little better why we treat illnesses today as we do.

A relatively recent mental health phenomenon? As this Lancet case report shows, doctors began to diagnose cases of self-starvation as Anorexia Nervosa towards the end of the nineteenth century. (Source: Wellcome Library)

Perhaps not all human experiences can be told through objects. Yet, I’d argue that material culture has a unique ability to connect you to stories and experiences even at a glance – so I think it’s worth a bit of lateral thinking.

Anyway, here’s a few other objects we could collect on the topic: size zero clothing, the personal effects of an individual who’s experienced an eating disorder (perhaps their weighing scale or diary for instance), self-help manuals, health education material etc. Other thoughts, suggestions or insights most welcome.

X-rated collecting: Part-1

The Science Museum might not be the first place you think of when you hear the word sex, but we’ve got lots of artefacts from all over the world designed both to titillate and to treat sexual dysfunction and infertility. Some even claim to cast a love spell (Brian Cox watch out – I have the power…).

To add to this collection we’ve been working with Jonathan Roberts, lecturer at Mount Saint Vincent University, to make some new acquisitions. Jonathan’s been out collecting love, sex and fertility medicines for us in the markets of Accra, Ghana’s capital.

The first thing you notice about stalls selling sex medicines, Jonathan says, is the immense diversity of treatments that both male and female patients can choose from.

Alongside traditional West African treatments, vendors are selling Christian and Islamic faith medicines, as well as pharmaceuticals like real Pfizer Viagra and fake Chinese “Vigra”.

The stalls are like display cases for many different medical cultures. (Credit: Jonathan Roberts).

West African medical systems tend to be pluralistic. Practices and treatments encountered from different cultures are selectively absorbed, and re-invented in parallel with traditional African practises to meet the specific health needs of African communities.

Jonathan adds, this fusion of medical cultures reflects to a great extent the power of African patients. Patients to an extent self-diagnose their problem in order to make choices about which medical system is most appropriate to them or which treatment they believe will be most effective.

Comfort Owusu, the trader the medicines were purchased from (Jonathan Roberts).

Researchers like Jonathan are investigating how patients are making such choices – which has profound implications for improving health services.

Of course collecting these medicines poses some difficult issues for us Curators. Explicit imagery on the boxes, for example, makes real or virtual display problematic (even these photos needed lots of editing to be usable!).

But without preserving these items, evidence documenting this fascinating period of cultural and medical hybridisation in West Africa will disappear.