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Featured, From Our Collections, History of Medicine, Students and Interns

Finding Humanity in the Archives

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Post contributed by Jennifer Dai, Josiah Charles Trent History of Medicine Intern.

As I near the end of my first semester as the Josiah Charles Trent History of Medicine Intern at the Rubenstein Special Collections Library, I’ve started reflecting on some of the amazing materials I’ve had the opportunity to work with. From Vesalius to the Four Seasons, I’ve handled exquisite and priceless items, often becoming caught up in their splendor and rarity. In those moments, I’ve found it easy to forget the human side of medicine. I look at hand-colored drawings and notice the artistry and the time it took to create such pieces but forget that the depictions are often of actual events that happened to real people.

I’ve spent the past few months researching patent medicine (aka quack medicine). Its colorful advertisements, deadly undisclosed chemicals, statistics, and fun facts are flashy and interesting. But they distract from the humanity of medicine. How did these cure-alls truly affect those who were on the receiving end of these treatments? How and why were they used? This is where the story of William Anderson Roberts comes in.

Letter from William to his wife depicting a horseback riding show he attended after the war.

The William Anderson Roberts Papers start in the 1850s with a young William corresponding with friends and family about his faith, work as a portrait painter, and love life. By August 1859, letters that used to be addressed “Dear Brother” are now addressed “Dear Brother and Sister”, implying he has married (which he did, to a woman named Mary earlier that year). In 1861, William enlists in the Confederate Army and, throughout the war, is consistently in and out of the hospital. Despite numerous letters and attempts to be discharged due to a chronic medical condition called Neuralgia, he remains in the army until the end of war in 1865.

Letter describing Gold Remedy as a cure for opium addiction from 1886.

This lifelong affliction led to William’s first prescription for opium. He states that it not only “relieved the dreadful pain, but it soothed and quieted my irritable nervous system and stimulated my mind to act with double strength and quickness.” Later in his writing, he claims he could have stopped the habit if it hadn’t been for the “Cruel War.”

During the “Cruel War” in 1864, a doctor prescribed opium to help with ongoing diarrhea and dysentery after William had a bad case of measles. This treatment continued for weeks, and when he tried to stop, he found that he could not complete his assigned duties. He tried for years to overcome his dependence but was unable to paint or function without taking morphine.

Note from William describing his poor relationship with his wife and troubles with morphine addiction.

William never overcame the addiction. By the 1880s the effect of continued opiate use is apparent in his correspondence. Where he had previously been requesting assistance from patent medicines, he now practically begs for cures. He states that his wife doesn’t understand him and has never even tried and goes as far as to say she would be better off if he were no longer alive. He mourns the life he could have had and discusses his guilt over not being a healthy and happy husband and father.

Fittingly, the last item attributed to him, and how his date of death is estimated, is a receipt for morphine dated between June and September 1900. Based on this estimate, he died at 63 years old.

Receipt for opium from 1900.

William’s story isn’t particularly unique. Many people then became addicted to opium after taking the medicine under a doctor’s orders. Many people still do.

What is remarkable about this collection is that we have access to his letters over 150 years after they were received. This collection, and those like it, give us the chance to see the humanity in individuals from over 100 years ago. To understand a person’s struggle and see firsthand the effects it has on them is something deeply intimate. Looking beyond the titles or rarity of items, you may just find the humanity of someone you will never meet.

 

 

 

 

Further reading on William Anderson Roberts

Caswell County post about William Anderson Roberts

Featured, From Our Collections, History of Medicine, Students and Interns

Psycho-Phone: 100 Years of Unlocking Unconscious Powers

Post contributed by Jennifer Dai, Josiah Charles Trent History of Medicine Intern.

Image of Psycho-Phone printed on wax cylinder case.

The History of Medicine Collection has recently acquired a fringe medical device, known as the Psycho-Phone, as a part of the Thomas Bashore Collection. Little is written about this item; upon immediate inspection it looks like every other wax cylinder phonograph, however, when you dive deeper you learn the interesting history of this hypnotic device.

In June 1927 the popular psychology magazine titled “Psychology: Health, Happiness, Success” advertised an instrument that claimed it would “enable you to use your vast unconscious powers to get more out of life.”  This instrument, called the Psycho-Phone, would allow users to listen to recorded messages of affirmation while sleeping.  Created by Alois Benjamin Saliger, this device utilized a clock which would be set to the time when an individual would be at their “most receptive cycle of sleep”. At that time, the device would turn on and play recordings of Mr. Saliger himself reading affirmations such as “you are being rejuvenated in perfect health.” “Your weight is normal.” “Your hair is growing in luxurious abundance.” and “I am now having a wonderful rest.” Once the affirmation was completed the device would automatically turn off and the listener would continue to sleep as a better version of themselves.

Recorder for the wax cylinder psycho-phone.

There were two variations of this device, either utilizing a disc or a wax cylinder to play these recordings. One major difference, aside from price, is that the wax cylinder version would allow users to record their own affirmations. In our collection we have a wax cylinder Psycho-Phone surrounded by numerous empty wax cylinders just waiting to hold affirmations. Enclosed in the travel case which holds the Psycho-Phone is a letter from Mr. Salinger himself from October 1927. He states that they had also sent “some information regarding affirmations which we think you will find useful as it has been prepared in the light of much expertise.” Unfortunately, we do not have the materials Mr. Saliger spoke of in his letter, leaving us to wonder what affirmations he personally recommended to buyers of his device. After allegedly selling 2,500 devices by 1933, the company disappeared, as did many of those devices.

Nearly 100 years later, we have apps and television shows that promote mental health in similar ways to Mr. Saliger’s device. A quick Google search will show numerous videos and podcasts promoting sleep affirmations. With this in mind, I see the Psycho-Phone as more than a heavy device that once resided on a few bedside tables, it’s the physical proof that no matter when in history you happen to live, we’re always striving for betterment any way we can.

Psycho-Phone without horn.

 

Sources and Further Reading:

Technogalerie Post for a Psycho-Phone for sale.

Cumming’s Center blog post by Dr. Ludy T. Benjamin Jr.

Archived post from Antique Phonograph News about the Psycho-Phone

PBS History Detectives Special Investigation episode about the Psycho-Phone

 

Featured, Franklin Research Center, History of Medicine, Travel Grants

The Complicated Legacies of the North Carolina Mutual Life Insurance Company

Post contributed by Michael Ortiz-Castro, PhD, Lecturer, Department of History, Bentley University. Micheal was a recipient of the John Hope Franklin Research Center Travel Grant & Elon Clark History of Medicine Travel Grant. 

Life insurance seems, perhaps, like one of the duller aspects of adulthood. For late 19th century Americans, life insurance represented and marshalled a number of concerns and anxieties about value, life, and community. Coming to force in the mid to late 1800s, life insurance—acquiring it, maintaining it, using it, and its meaning—all intertwined with questions about race, nation, and community—not surprising given that life insurance dealt with some of the most intimate aspects of individuals’ lives—their health, the health of their families, and the economic and social wellbeing.

As a historian of citizenship, my research discusses the history of life insurance as part of a broader analysis of the transformation of ideas of citizenship in the wake of the civil war. My book project, presently titled Acts of Citizenship: Belonging and Biology in Post-Reconstruction America, discusses life insurance in the context of the language companies used to sell policies to Americans, how folks in and outside the industry discussed the business of calculating the value of human lives, and the industry’s associated practices. These practices had a vision of citizenship yoked to ideas of biology and racial purity and helped shape the culture of life insurance—which would come to center round keywords like race, family, and citizen. At its intellectual heart was a project of racial differentiation, materialized in Irving Hoffman’s “Race Traits and Tendencies of the American Negro”. Written in his capacity as Statistician for the Prudential Life Insurance Company, the tract used mortality rates to not only advocate for denying insurance policies to black Americans, but to popularize the “extinction thesis”, a theory that black Americans were simply biologically unfit for equality.

What did black Americans make of this evolving discourse? With the generous support of the History of Medicine Collections and the John Hope Franklin Research Center at the Rubenstein Library, I began to answer this question by consulting the records of the North Carolina Mutual Life Insurance Company, the largest black-owned life insurance company in the nation. Their records highlight the complicated place of black life insurance companies in the economic landscape; they highlight the complicated ways in which black Americans sought to both prove their fitness for citizenship and resist the terms that condemned death to permanent exclusion.

**

Black life insurance companies like North Carolina Mutual grew in a lacuna. The first black insurance companies came up to help black Americans cover funeral costs; North Carolina Mutual marketed itself as a life-oriented project; like other life insurance companies, the stated goal of North Carolina Mutual was to “help Negroes … accumulate … a fortune in life”, to make burial insurance unnecessary. Though life insurance companies faced significant headwinds in their early days due to the perceived sacrilege of putting a value to human life, they participated in and benefitted from a cultural transformation that saw it worthwhile to invest in one’s own life.

North Carolina Mutual’s insistence that black lives could yield value for the user was complicated for two reasons. The first reason was that, according to white insurers, black lives were too risky to include in the risk pool—better to keep them out, for no value or benefit could be generated for the community. In constructing their own risk pool, North Carolina Mutual posited a different vision of the community. However, the notion that black lives could yield value for their owner drew eerie parallels to the slave insurance policies of the antebellum era—it had been commonplace for owners to ensure the lives of their slaves and receive payment in the case of death. In attempting to both affirm and challenge the prevailing association between value, appreciation, and race, North Carolina Mutual affirmed that black lives were appreciable assets—and could be a boon when that wealth was owned by the individual themselves. This logic seems to have been a motivating factor for other black-owned business companies—for example, as seen below, the Atlanta Life Insurance Company similarly sold its mission as “a dream to develop economic independence” among black Americans.

North Carolina Mutual insisted on more than just that black lives could be considered appreciable assets. At the heart of their industry was the assumption that black lives were insurable to begin with—that is to say, a good risk. To do so, it had to assert that black lives were not, say, any riskier than white customers. One bulletin from Clyde Donnell, the Medical Director, makes the logic clear. An excerpt of the document, which discussed tuberculosis mortality rates among black Americans, can be seen below. Below that, you can see another piece, also written by Donnell, which discusses the issue of finding enough black Americans to ensure.

The doctor’s argument in both documents once more ambivalently positions black American’s health to that of their white counterparts. White insurance executives, like Hoffman, argued that high mortality rates across diseases between black and white Americans was indicative of innate biological inferiority. Black intellectuals like W.E.B. DuBois often tried to argue that these disparities were the result of racist measurements and biases; in his magisterial The Health and Physique of the Negro American, DuBois used modern sociological methods to prove that, in aggregate, mortality rates were consistent across race according to class. This was not the strategy of North Carolina Mutual—they affirmed the notion that black folks did in fact have higher mortality rates. However, rather than cast these higher mortality rates as evidence of biological inferiority, Dr. Donnell instead asserts that this means that white folk should become more invested in the uplift of black Americans—“the negro means much to the economic welfare of the southern white man”. In the latter, Donnell references the environmental factors DuBois preferred while maintaining the fact of disparate health outcomes according to race. In tying their destinies together, Donnell’s logic resisted the idea that a white America was the inevitable result.

As materially important as it was for black Americans to have access to life insurance and the financial means to support themselves through death and emergencies, like other life insurance companies, North Carolina Mutual understood that its project was not just about securing the financial wellness of its members—no, the goal was to secure the political and economic uplifting of the people

This can be seen below, where the writings double as political mission: “it is better not to have lived, than to have lived and not contributed anything to the success of any one else’s life”.

At the time of its founding, North Carolina Mutual found itself serving a community that had achieved massive cultural victories alongside the entrenchment of Jim Crow in the South. As a business that believed in racial uplift, it relied on the language of progress and assimilation evinced by leading intellectuals by Booker T Washington. However, as a business oriented towards the advancement of black Americans in the face of racism, it had to take a stand on discourses of racial inferiority. Life insurance singularly combined questions of individual health and the future of the community that animated many of the driving cultural transformations of the late 19th century—the records of NC Mutual prove useful in understanding how black Americans navigated their place in the nation, and how the fight for equality extended to the domain of health, wellness, and the everyday.

Featured, From Our Collections, University Archives

Duke Faculty in the Civil Rights Movement: Peter Klopfer and Robert Osborn

Ah-ha! I haven’t been stopped yet as I continue my series on the Woolworth sit-ins (both in Greensboro and Durham) and Duke’s ties to civil rights movements in the early 1960s. I have finally moved forward in time, jumping from 1960 all the way to…1964.

In 1964, we see some Duke faculty get involved in the Civil Rights movement, this time, integrating a restaurant just a few miles down the road (near that…other university) in Chapel Hill. Professors Peter Klopfer, Robert Osborn, and Frederick Herzog, along with a young Black student, sat in the Watts Grill in Chapel Hill. In what started as a simple protest would later include Klan activity, and would even turn into a court case on trespassing, a case that would later go to the Supreme Court.

Peter Klopfer, professor of biology, in an oral history found in the Duke University Oral History Program collection, describes the significance of Watts Grill:

Paragraph 1 is the interviewer:

I’ll let Peter Klopfer describe the court case further, here:

And finally, highlighting some of the great finds from the archives, is a copy of the subpoena so graciously gifted to Robert Osborn, Harmon Smith, Frederick Herzog, and Peter Klopfer, found in the Robert Osborn papers.

Exhibits, Featured, From Our Collections, History of Medicine, Students and Interns

Announcing “Defiant Bodies: Discourses on Intersex, 1573-2003”

Post contributed by Madeline Huh, Josiah Charles Trent History of Medicine Intern.

As this year’s Trent History of Medicine Intern, I was given the exciting opportunity to curate an exhibit for the Josiah Charles Trent History of Medicine Room. I’m pleased to say that my exhibit, entitled “Defiant Bodies: Discourses on Intersex, 1573-2003,” is now open to the public in the Rubenstein Library. The exhibit explores changing dialogues around nonbinary sex and intersex identity over six centuries, from early modern medicine to 21st-century activism and (some of) the many interdisciplinary representations in between. There is also an online version of the exhibit, which you can explore here.

Thank you to all who have helped me during the process of creating this exhibit, especially Rachel Ingold, Meg Brown, Yoon Kim, and Grace Zayobi–I am very grateful for all your feedback along the way and your consistent willingness to engage in discussion with me on this complicated and important topic with such sensitivity.

“Defiant Bodies” will be on view from May 13, 2025 to October 4, 2025 in the Josiah Charles Trent History of Medicine Room. I am so very excited for you to explore it in-person and online!

Digital Collections, Featured, From Our Collections, Students and Interns

A UNC Student Gets a Duke Education

Post contributed by Will Clemmons, Duke Family Processing & Digitization Intern.

Figure 1: Arranging a subset of photographs donated to the Mary Duke Biddle Trent Semans family papers.

When I visited Duke in 2018 with my family, this time to give my younger brother the opportunity to explore the possibilities of life at a top university, I never imagined that I would end up being the one in my family to play a part in this university’s history. Tar Heel basketball has always had my family’s support, but we never disrespected Duke. At the time of the tour, I was trying my best to avoid going on the traditional college route myself, and I certainly was not envisioning a future where I would be pursuing a master’s degree as a Tar Heel. But our best laid plans do not always work out in the way we envision them, often leading to paths far greater than we could imagine. I thus found myself in the summer of 2023 moving to UNC Chapel Hill to pursue a master’s degree in library science, with an emphasis in archiving, pursuing goals I never dreamed were possible.

I knew going into this Duke internship that I would enjoy the job of a processing archivist, but I did not know just how specialized the position was, as the Duke Family Processing & Digitization Intern. My past archival internships/volunteer work had been at smaller institutions that often had a solo archivist. Working with such a small staff meant the hats my bosses would wear, and would pass on to me, spanned the breadth of jobs an archivist can perform, from accessioning to processing, digitizing to describing. At Duke, I was tasked with only processing collections in the fall with Rubenstein Technical Services and digitizing collections in the spring, both tasks I had done before, but not at the level of specialization and detail that was allowed by the Rubenstein Library’s large size. During the fall semester I was essentially doing the job that any full-time processing archivist would do, just as an apprentice, so to speak, under Zachary Tumlin’s tutelage. Tumlin, the Duke Family Papers Project Archivist, was tasked with processing the many additions from Mary Duke Biddle Trent Semans to her collection of family papers at Duke University, and I was hired to assist him. Our job was to establish physical and intellectual control of the donated materials and arrange, rehouse, and describe them for use by others. In the short term, we prepared a number of these objects for the digitization I would do at the Digital Production Center (DPC) in the Spring semester. Through this work I learned more than most about the Duke family, Mary Semans in particular, and her many children and grandchildren.

What makes Mary Semans’ donations so special are her ties to the founding Dukes. Being one of the last living Dukes to have known Benjamin Newton Duke, her maternal grandfather, Mary Semans had a wealth of Duke family history from Benjamin Duke to donate to the Rubenstein Library. For this reason, I was able to interact with objects with date ranges from the late 19th century up to the 2010s, specifically a large variety of photographic formats. Before working at Duke, I had never interacted with a tintype, one of the earliest democratic photography formats (meaning widely available to the public) that, while involving metals in photo processing, ironically tended to use metals other than tin. I was taught about the preservation of tintypes from talking with staff the Conservation Department, also learning how to keep them stored for long term preservation. The education I received through interacting hands-on with items that spanned such a broad period of history is a rare opportunity and will undoubtedly serve me well in my future archival endeavors.

Figure 2: Tintype featuring Benjamin Duke (upper left), Sarah Duke (upper right), Mary Duke Biddle (lower left), and Angier Buchanan Duke (bottom middle).

Learning about Mary Semans as a person would be sure to leave an impact on anyone. This heir to Benjamin Duke’s wealth did more than most with the wealth she was born into. As a philanthropist, she supported the university that bears her family’s name (with Duke being named after her great Grandfather) and the city in which it is situated. She did much to advocate for the people of NC nationally and internationally, earning the nickname “the unofficial First Lady of NC.” Her support for the arts, medicine, the disabled, and civil rights throughout her life is laudable. She was not unacquainted with grief, with her parents divorcing when she was around 10 years old and losing her first husband, with whom she had four children, at the young age of 28. Yet, she did not let this grief define her, marrying again, raising a total of seven children, and remaining vigorously invested in public life in Durham and NC until her death in 2012. I recall looking through numerous folders of photographs from trips to Europe in the 1990s that were not just sightseeing tours. Each trip was connected to the North Carolina School of the Arts’ International Music Program, designed to introduce students to the life of a touring musician while promoting North Carolina internationally. Even while traveling abroad, Mary Semans was committed to supporting the residents and the state of North Carolina.

Figure 3: Mary Semans, Duke alumna

The people in Duke Libraries who worked around me, and directly with me, imparted knowledge to me that will benefit me throughout my career. The team cohesion at the Digital Production Center (DPC) was evident from my first day this spring. Everyone in the DPC is dedicated to seeing their work reach maximum potential in efficiency and quality, utilizing the best in cultural heritage digitization processes. My work at the DPC saw me scanning artifacts from the Rubenstein Library’s collections, creating faithful digital surrogates for online teaching, learning, and research. In particular, I was able to work with courtship letters from 1935-1938 between Mary Semans and her first husband (Joe Trent), from processing in the Fall through to their digital existence with my work at the DPC. I felt very much at ease working at the DPC, knowing I had experts surrounding me that were eager to share their knowledge and ensure I had a successful internship. I could go on recognizing the talented individuals working in the DPC, but this is meant to be a relatively short blog post, so I will refrain for now.

Figure 4: Author at scanning station in the DPC.

I leave Duke University Libraries, more confident than ever in my abilities to enter the job market with the skills necessary to land me a full-time job in archiving. Duke has also left me with a stronger conviction that archiving is what I want to spend my career pursuing. I hope the reader understands the dedication of the Rubenstein Library’s staff and takes the time to browse their collections, many online (Duke Family Papers), perhaps in the process learning some about the founding family at Duke University and their significant contributions to the Durham area.

Featured, From Our Collections, University Archives

Agitator, Advocate, Activist: Joan Trumpauer Mulholland

Post contributed by Ani Karagianis, Centennial Archivist.

Hello again!  You may have noticed if you follow the Devil’s Tale with as much fervor as I do, that this is a continuation of a blog series on Civil Rights, a series that will end whenever somebody stops me. This blog post highlights one person who had simultaneously stayed in the Georgian East Campus and spent time in prison for her participation in the Freedom Rides.

They say well behaved women seldom make history. Joan Mulholland, in the eyes of a segregated Duke in 1959, certainly fit that mold. A woman who was deemed odd for not rushing a sorority would later become a crucial member of the Freedom Rider movement, and has advocated for civil rights all her life.

Joan’s story begins in Washington D.C. in 1941. She was born to working parents, a father from Iowa and a mother from rural Georgia. Joan spent her early years in Arlington, VA, which she claimed, according to a 2013 oral history now housed at the Library of Congress and part of the Museum of African American History and Culture, “was definitely the South, maybe not the Deep South, but everything by law and custom was segregated.”[1] Growing up in a Presbyterian church, Joan would later become annoyed at the perceived hypocrisy of the church preaching equality in a segregated town. The church became an early place for her growing interest in civil rights, starting with Black students attending her then all white church, a move that had to be kept secret to maintain the safety of both Black and white students.[2] Joan would later note that “as a Southerner, that we needed to change. And when I had my chance to do something, I would seize it”[3] after viewing the stark differences between Black and white schools.

Fast forward a few years, and Joan started to look at colleges. While Joan wanted to go to a small school in Ohio, her mother, “a product of her environment” pushed Joan towards Duke University, a school that, according to Joan, “was safely segregated.”[4] At this point (1959), Duke University was still two years away from desegregating the graduate schools, and three years away from desegregating the undergrad population. Duke students had begun advocating for desegregation in 1948, when members of the Divinity School sent around a petition calling for desegregation. Unfortunately, these early efforts and the efforts throughout the 1950s fell on mostly deaf ears in the Board of Trustees.

Joan Trumpauer from the 1960 Chanticleer yearbook. It’s digitized here!

Joan attended Duke for a year—1959-1960. Durham proved to be a great place for Joan to build on her growing desire to make things right, and North Carolina was a good spot for the growing Civil Rights movement. Not long after four students from North Carolina A&T in Greensboro integrated their lunch counter at Woolworth’s, Joan and some other white students attended sit-ins at segregated lunch counters in Durham with students from North Carolina Central University.

Article from the July 2, 1960 edition of the Durham Herald about sit-ins at the S.H. Kress Store.

 

More news coverage of the Kress Store sit-in, including a list of students who participated.

 

[1] Mulholland, Joan Trumpauer, Interviewee, John Dittmer, and U.S Civil Rights History Project. Joan Trumpauer Mulholland oral history interview conducted by John Dittmer in Arlington, Virginia. 2013. Video. https://www.loc.gov/item/2015669178/.

[2] Ibid.

[3] Ibid.

[4] Ibid.

Featured, From Our Collections, History of Medicine, Instruction, Students and Interns

Mary Toft and An Extraordinary Delivery of Rabbits

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Post contributed by Madeline Huh, Trent History of Medicine Intern.

A couple weeks ago, Rachel Ingold, curator of the History of Medicine Collections, and I were setting up for a library instruction session in the Rubenstein that included some materials relating to midwifery, labor, and childbirth. One of these books discussed what were known as “monstrous births” during the medieval and early modern period, which sparked a discussion about Mary Toft, an 18th century woman infamous for tricking doctors into thinking she had given birth to rabbits.

Mary Toft was a 25-year-old poor, illiterate servant from Surrey who became pregnant in 1726 but apparently miscarried in August 1726 after an encounter with a rabbit. Around a month later, in September, she claimed that she was still pregnant, and her family called upon the obstetrician John Howard to watch over her in her apparently pregnant state.

According to Howard, Toft soon gave birth to several animal parts, including a cat without a liver, a rabbit’s head, the legs of a cat, and nine dead baby rabbits. The story of her miraculous births reached the press and spread around England, and consequently the King of England dispatched two men to investigate the situation, one of whom was surgeon-anatomist Nathanael St. Andre. St. Andre wrote an account of Toft’s alleged supernatural births called A short narrative of an extraordinary delivery of rabbets (1727), a copy of which is held in the Trent Collection within the Rubenstein Library’s History of Medicine Collections.

The title page of Nathanael St. Andre’s A short narrative of an extraordinary delivery of rabbets.

St. Andre describes the circumstances under which Mary claimed to remain pregnant after miscarrying:

“The account she further gave of herself, was, that on the 23rd of April last, as she was weeding in a Field, she saw a Rabbet spring up near her, after which she ran, with another Woman that was at work just by her; this set her a longing for Rabbets…The same night she dreamt that she was in a Field with those two Rabbets in her Lap, and awaked with a sick Fit, which lasted till Morning; from that time, for above three Months, she had a constant and strong desire to eat Rabbets but being very poor and indigent cou’d not procure any. About seventeen Weeks after her longing, she was taken with a Flooding and violent Cholick pains, which made her miscarry of a Substance that she said was like a large lump of Flesh…she did not perceive her self to grow less but continued with the symptoms of a breeding Woman” (23-24).

St. Andre then goes on to discuss Toft’s secondary labor and her subsequent birth of rabbits as it was told to him by Dr. John Howard.

St. Andre’s narrative about Toft’s miscarriage and animal births is indicative of a broader cultural fascination with monstrous birth in early modern Europe. Broadly, a monstrous birth is defined as an animal or human birth involving a defect that renders a child so “malformed” as to be considered monstrous. Deformed tissue, incompletely separated twins, ambiguous sexual development, or irregularly shaped children, which we would now in many cases attribute to genetic or chromosomal causes, all fell under the general umbrella of “monstrousness.” In the early modern imagination, monstrous births could be religious omens, signs from God, or evidence of supernatural influences. But perhaps more interestingly (to me, at least), monstrous births were also seen as indicators of a mother’s morality, or rather, a lapse in her morality. Private gynecological “disasters” and abnormalities of birth were highly public and sensationalized affairs within communities that often reflected poorly on a mother’s social and sexual reputation.

For example, when Margaret Mere gave birth to a deformed child in 1568, her neighbors attributed it to her wanton sexual behavior and accused her of having sex out of wedlock. Agnes Bowker’s alleged birth of a cat in 1569 led to the slander of her sexual propriety and resulted in concerns about the consequences of such an abnormal birth for the community as a whole. Both cases highlight the tendency of neighbors and community members to condemn mothers who miscarried or gave birth to “monstrous” children and the sense of anxiety that pervaded communities in the aftermath of gynecological disaster.

Mother and monstrous child both became sources of fear and dread beyond the immediate community through the representation of monstrous births in pamphlets, broadsides, and other relatively cheap printed materials accessible to a broad audience. One example of this is a little pamphlet called Signes and wonders from heaven (1645), also in the Trent Collection, which reports on several supernatural events including a discovery of witches, a cat that gave birth to a monster, and a monster born in Ratcliffe Highway. Public fascination with abnormal animal and human births created a popular demand for these types of publications.

Pamphlets discussing monstrous births like this one were popular among the English public.

Sometimes, the sensationalism that came with a monstrous birth was desired and even pursued by women, which seems to be the case with Mary Toft. Toft and her family seem to have perpetuated the story that she had given birth to rabbits to exploit some of the benefits of fame and money associated with faking a monstrous birth.

As the intern for the History of Medicine Collections, I’m currently working on an exhibit which will open later in the spring–not on monstrous births, but on a tangentially related topic–and the idea of monstrous births has emerged several times throughout my research. I’ve found the representation of monstrous births interesting not only for the way that early modern sources depict the relationship between mother and monstrous child but also for the way that they publicize these sorts of obstetrical events and inspire a sense of terror. I always enjoy learning about strange moments in the history of women’s health, and the case of Mary Toft is certainly one of these.

Further Reading:

Bates, A.W. Emblematic Monsters, (Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill, 01 Jan. 2005) doi: https://doi.org/10.1163/9789004332997.

Hagen, Ross. “A warning to England: Monstrous births, teratology and feminine power in Elizabethan broadside ballads.” Horror Studies 4, no. 1 (2013): 21-41. doi: 10.1386/host.4.1.21_1.

The Curious Case of Mary Toft, University of Glasgow Special Collections (2009): https://www.gla.ac.uk/myglasgow/library/files/special/exhibns/month/aug2009.html

Featured, From Our Collections, University Archives

Duke Student Movements: 1960-1961

Post contributed by Ani Karagianis, Centennial Archivist.

As a continuation of my series, I have decided to highlight Duke students and their activism around Civil Rights. Likely inspired by the Greensboro sit-ins, Duke and NC Central students joined in their own civil disobedience, participating in sit-ins at Woolworth’s and Kress in Durham and boycotting local theaters.

In the early 1960s, some Duke students took part in Civil Rights movements and organized as such on the campus. One example was the Human Relations Coordinating Committee, creating a group that was interesting in human relations and race relations. In this document, found in our Student Activism Reference Collection, box 1, co-chairman Lucia Brunn calls for the creation of a newsletter for their committee.

Lucia Brunn, from the Chanticleer yearbook, 1960.

Within this document is a note received by a Duke Divinity student, Edward Opton Jr, who picketed Durham theaters. Here’s his call to action:

Feeling the Cold War vibes, his notes about nations choosing between “Democracy and Communism” does feel more than a bit pointed, considering the idea that some people viewed Communism as a greater threat than the racism in their own backyards.

Opton also asked for some support from the Divinity school administrators, hoping for an increase in faculty participation, as found in this letter from the Divinity School records, box 29.

Opton and Brunn were just a few motivated members of the Duke community committed to advancing the cause of civil rights. Stay tuned for more!

Exhibits, Featured, From Our Collections, University Archives

The Greensboro Woolworth Sit-ins Through the Bill Chafe Oral History Collection

Post contributed by Ani Karagianis, Centennial Archivist, Duke University Archives.

[A small exhibit related to this blog post can be viewed near the Perkins Library service desk for the next month.]

Recently, the Rubenstein Library put up a small exhibit about the Greensboro Woolworth Sit-ins in February 1960. Since I participated in the creation of the exhibit, naturally, I wanted to look more into the early sit-ins and other movements of the early 1960s. It is here where I can say that there is a Duke angle to some subsequent events after the sit-ins. Duke angle #1: Professor William Chafe of the history department. Bill Chafe, who wrote a great book that I was able to devour during the holidays (Civilities and Civil Rights) interviewed three of the four members of the Greensboro Four: Ezell Blair Jr. (known as Jibreel Khazan), Joseph McNeil, and David Richmond. Rather than having me write about their interviews and their experiences of the sit-in, I have provided the readers with some snapshots of them speaking about their experiences in Greensboro, North Carolina Agricultural and Technical State University, and the Woolworth sit-ins. These oral histories can be found in box two of the William Chafe Oral History collection.

Some good soundbites courtesy of these interviews:

Jibreel Khazan (labeled as “Jabriel Kajan”, 1974, speaking about his youth NAACP council and providing a little background of the idea behind the protest:

Joseph McNeill, 1978, reflecting on the movement the role of the Greensboro community:

David Richmond, 1972, providing a breakdown of the day’s plans: