As pandemic lockdowns drag on, cabin fever may also set in as families spend extended time together in confined spaces. A 17th century engraving by Jacques de Gheyn II (c.1565-1629) humorously captures the kind of domestic tensions that may be experienced right now in households across the globe. The print leverages off the comic trope in art of the hen-pecked husband, and in case you did not get the joke, a scolding hen has been included in the center of the scene.
By Neville Yeomans
This post was written as part of the graduate course Digital Humanities MULT900056. Neville Yeomans is currently undertaking a Doctor of Philosophy in the School of Historical and Philosophical Studies at the University of Melbourne. His thesis examines the history of Australia’s medical immigrants since colonisation.
Melbournians view the hospital and institute that bears MacCallum’s name [1] with a mixture of fondness and apprehension – after all, a cancer diagnosis is a frightening thing. But most of us know little about the man himself.
His more public achievements have been well documented [2]. He was born a Scottish immigrant whose many roles included professor of Pathology at University of Melbourne, dean of its medical faculty and Chair of the Australian Red Cross Society. But the contributions that particularly led to the establishment of the hospital with his name included his eighteen years (1946-63) as chair of the Anti-Cancer Council of Victoria.
The eight volumes of his papers in the university’s archives give a more intimate picture of the man [3]. MacCallum seems to have been something of a hoarder. Handwritten versions of his public lectures sit side by side with later typewritten versions with numerous corrections and pasted insertions. In these days of word-processors, few keep such a detailed audit trail. Why he kept all those drafts we can only guess – perhaps with an eye to history, more likely because he couldn’t bear to throw things away. One whole folder in the University of Melbourne Archives (1975.0042, Unit 2, folder 16) was devoted to car parking, and included a book on “Parking Programs in the USA”. Was this idle fascination? Was he working on a project for parking in Melbourne? The archive holds its tongue!
Probably less known among his interests and contributions were his travels to observe medicine and medical education in India, China and Japan. The first to India was in 1951-2, departing by ship on Christmas Eve. He had arrived within five years of the partition of India and his notes show his concern and sorrow for the anguish of the many displaced persons which it produced [4]. He returned in 1957, and was obviously feted during this trip, since among the memorabilia he kept were invitations and even menus from some of the functions he attended – one with the President of India.
Image: Annotated menu from a luncheon, India, 1957, Sir Peter MacCallum Collection, 1975.0042
The 1957 trip was as part of a delegation examining medical education in China. Again, he kept a detailed diary, arriving via Hong Kong. The Chinese Premier (Chou En-Lai) said at a reception, “We hope that our foreign comrades and friends … will give us criticism and counsel … so that we may learn and benefit thereby.” This was of course a time when Australia did not diplomatically recognise China – eight years after the Communist Revolution and before Mao Zedong’s education program for China’s ‘barefoot doctors’ [5].
As in India, MacCallum kept memorabilia of his visit to China and Japan: copies of invitations, a donated medical paper in Mandarin, maps and brochures of cultural sites, and even the ticket for his transfer from Tokyo airport. This was a fastidious man.
MacCallum was also an internationalist and a humanitarian. He ended a lecture in Melbourne after his Indian trip by reminding his audience that Rudyard Kipling was often quoted as saying “East is East and West is West, and Never the Twain shall meet.” But Kipling had actually closed that gulf in the remainder of his verse [6]:
Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God’s great Judgment Seat;
But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth,
When two strong men stand face to face though they come from the ends of the earth!
References
[1] The Peter MacCallum Hospital began in 1950. It is now incorporated within the Victorian Comprehensive Cancer Centre in the medical precinct adjacent to the University of Melbourne medical school, but continues its name as the Peter MacCallum Cancer Centre: (https://www.petermac.org/)
[2] See Sir Peter MacCallum’s entry in the Australian Dictionary of Biography: http://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/maccallum-sir-peter-10905
[3] University of Melbourne Archives, 1975.0042 MacCallum, Peter_Prof.Sir
[4] For a brief history of the partition, see https://learn.culturalindia.net/partition-of-india.html
[5] A Western account of the barefoot doctors’ program, by the then editor of the British Medical Journal, is available at https://www.bmj.com/content/bmj/2/5916/429.full.pdf
[6] Kipling, Rudyard. “The Ballad of East and West.” (1899), first published in The Pioneer, 2 December 1889 and available at http://www.kiplingsociety.co.uk/poems_eastwest.htm. MacCallum left out much of Kipling’s punctuation in the version typed at the end of his speech – though, to be fair, he intended simply to read it.
By Margaret Mary Sheehan
In the pages of the ‘Influenza Temporary Hospital Staff Register’, held by the University of Melbourne Archives, is evidence of the Spanish influenza pandemic that wrought havoc across the world between 1918 and 1920. Bound in red leather and unprepossessing in appearance, this journal was created by the Victorian Branch of the Australian Red Cross Society and contains lists of volunteers who offered their services during the first wave of the virus in Melbourne that started in January 1919. Two more waves or recrudescence swept across Victoria in the following eight months with a devastating effect on the State’s population. More than 3,500 people died in Victoria, a terrible loss after the horrifying war losses.
The journal’s function was administrative and was organised geographically by the volunteers’ hospital location. Thirty-four emergency hospitals (the Register describes them as ‘temporary hospitals’) were created throughout the metropolitan area to manage the critically ill who overwhelmed the health care system during the pandemic. Schools delayed opening after the summer break, and many were converted into emergency hospitals. Also converted were drill halls, kindergartens, army base hospitals, as well as the (Royal) Exhibition Building. Yet buildings were comparatively more easily found than experienced staff as many nurses had yet to return from the war, resulting in a dire shortage of qualified carers. Calls for volunteers went out, and in late January a Red Cross worker began diligently listing names in the ‘Influenza Temporary Hospital Staff’ Register.
The Register recorded those who volunteered over a period of 10 weeks, the first entry being on 25 January 1919 and the final on 11 April 1919, the greatest number offering help in February during the first onslaught of the disease.[1] But what was the purpose of the Register? Was a letter of notification sent to the emergency facility where the volunteer was posted? Were volunteers tracked? Was there more than one Register? Whilst these are seemingly unanswerable questions, we can know that this Register was created by one individual, for the handwriting remains constant. This nameless person had the task of receiving offers of help; listing the date of registering; their level of experience, if relevant; hospital placement; and ultimately preserving this record of volunteers.
More than 670 community members were registered: all were women, mainly offering to nurse and care for the ill, although some volunteered to cook, work in laundries, or act as ward-maids. Little more than 80 were registered trained nurses, accredited by the professional body the Victorian Trained Nurses Association, and not quite a third were members of the Voluntary Aid Detachment VADs. Generally these VADs were young upper or middle class women of ‘independent means’ who would have presented with first aid training and home nursing certificates awarded by St John’s Ambulance.[2] Another smaller percentage (about 50) were described as ‘partly trained’. The majority (337) had no formal training and were simply keen to help in a time of community crisis.
The stress or difficulties of volunteering are also reflected in the Register in a perfunctory manner, for the word ‘left’ is neatly recorded against some names, occasionally in red ink. Many volunteers were young girls (about 550 were described as ‘Miss’) who had never seen anyone critically ill, let alone watched them die, and were required to care for many delirious and distressing cases. Perhaps it is unsurprising that more than 70 left without explanation. The Register also records those who did not survive, such as Annie Prince who died on 1st March 1919, after caring for patients in the Exhibition Building’s emergency hospital.[3] Another, Daisy Carr, died on 14 April, also after caring for influenza patients in the Exhibition Building.[4]
The Red Cross ‘Influenza Temporary Hospital Staff’ Register offers an important glimpse into the human cost of an event that remains Australia’s worst natural disaster in terms of lives lost. It also provides a microcosm of the Melbourne community’s response, and generosity of its female members.
Figure 2.
Illustrations
[1] Australian Red Cross Society, Victorian Division, ‘Voluntary Aid Detachment (VAD) and Field Force Personnel Records’, Influenza Temporary Hospital Staff Register, UMA 2016.0074, pages 13 & 54
[2] Melanie Oppenheimer. 2014. The Power of Humanity : 100 Years of Australian Red Cross 1914-2014. Harper Collins Australia., page 31
[3] Influenza Temporary Hospital Staff Register, ibid., page 32; Weekly Times, 15 March 1919, page 38
[4] Ibid., page 1; Geelong Advertiser, 19 April 1919, page 7
This week’s post has been inspired by fabulous travel destinations. Great cities, architecture and natural wonders feel all that more alluring as we indulge in escapism from our various states of pandemic lockdown. Hence the ‘Travel guide to COVID-19 pocket exhibition’ has been put together for some isolation enjoyment. Roaming through pictures allows freedom of travel across both time and continents.
Navigating ancient texts and images can be a mystifying experience, encountering ‘hidden’ or secret stories in the Bible, known as the Apocrypha, are a provocative example. These tantalising, albeit esoteric stories actually occur throughout Western art, indicating their appeal to artists and audiences. Therefore it is worth taking a look at a few examples in brief detail to try and disambiguate their meaning.
The Apocrypha are writings, often classified as a group of fourteen books appendices in the Old Testament. In the Septuagint (Greek version of the Old Testament) and the Vulgate (Latin version of the Scriptures) they are not considered canonical, and are therefore unauthorised because their authorship is contested. They are omitted altogether from the Protestant Bible. Several of the Apocrypha discuss strong female protagonists and also erotic themes:
Book of Judith
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