Today’s Undeniably Risky Yet Truly Morbid Fact!
Variolation (immunization) against Smallpox in the 18th century was often conducted in special “pox houses” or “inoculation hospitals” that opened in a number of countries. Most variolators required the recipient to undergo a lengthy preparation period of fasting, bleeding, and purging, which, it was believed, would ensure a milder case of the disease. Only the relatively affluent could afford the time and medical fees required for the procedures. In the 1760s, Daniel Sutton and Thomas Dimsdale developed a simplified form of variolation that required little or not preparation of the patient and reduced the size of the incision and the amount of inoculum to diminish the risk of complications. This modified technique usually produced an illness that was considerably milder than natural smallpox, resulting in only a few pustules at the inoculation site and a much lower risk of death.
Physician performing variolation
Despite such improvements, however, variolation was widely opposed by the medical establishment as unsafe and by the church as an interference with God’s will. It did seem illogical to attempt to preserve people’s health by making them sick, and the procedure was undeniably risky: King George III’s son Octavius died as a result of variolation in 1783. On other occasions, recipients became infected with other fatal diseases, such as tuberculosis or syphilis, carried by the pus of the donor. Moreover, although people who had been variolated often acquired an extremely mild case of smallpox and felt well enough to resume their normal activities, they could still transmit the disease through the air to infect others. Thus, in the absence of strict quarantine, variolation often spawned additional epidemics. These hazards led many communities to ban the procedure outright.
Culled from: Scourge: The Once and Future Threat of Smallpox
Garretdom: A Gross Calumny Avenged!
The trial of Madame Clovis Hugues for the murder of a man named Morin, took place yesterday, and resulted in a verdict of “Not guilty.” The case from beginning to end displayed all the elements of a sensational romance. Morin was what, in England, would be termed a “private enquiry officer,” and it was not disputed that he manufactured evidence that mounted to a gross calumny upon the honour of Madame Hugues. This lady appears to have been a somewhat distinguished personage, for her husband had already fought with and killed a man who had previously aspersed her character. Upon this occasion Madame Hugues determined to avenge her own honour. She awaited a favourable opportunity and then shot Morin “like a dog.” He lingered for some weeks in fearful agony and then died. Madame Hugues admitted, candidly, that the deed was premeditated, and when under examination she did not hesitate to justify her crime as a well-deserved punishment. The trial of such a woman was naturally a scene of considerable excitement. The circumstances of the crime were recounted by eye witnesses, and there was abundant testimony of the abominable persecution to which Madame Hugues had been subjected, and of the purity of her maiden life. M. Gatineau, her counsel, very skillfully availed himself of the favourable points of his client’s case. With consummate art he described her uneventful life as an unmarried girl, her marriage, essentially one of inclination, and then the blight caused by an unworthy imputation of pre-nuptial unchastity. The jury, after a very short deliberation, acquitted Madame Hugues on both charges of murder and premeditation, but they condemned her to pay two thousand francs by way of indemnity to the father of the victim. It is impossible to conceive that such a result could have been brought about in England. Although we hold equally high notions of honour, an English Jury could scarcely be induced to justify a premeditated murder simply upon the grounds of such provocation. The contrast between the offence for which the Captain and mate of the Mignonette are now serving six months’ imprisonment, and that for which Madame Hugues has to pay the nominal penalty of two thousand francs, is by no means in favour of the latter.
Culled from the January 9, 1885 issue of the Gloucester Echo.
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Andersonville Prisoner Diary Entry Du Jour!
This is the continuation of the 1864 diary of Andersonville prisoner Private George A. Hitchcock (see the archived version for all entries up until now).
Here’s today’s entry:
October 2d. Four months a prisoner, and oh, how long ones! A few Sherman prisoners, captured near Atlanta, came in. Drew a splendid ration of beans. We find it difficult to remember the Sabbath as it comes around, but conclude that this is one up in God’s country, if we haven’t lost our reckoning.
Culled from: Andersonville: Giving Up the Ghost
(10/2/64 was actually a Friday. Sorry, fellas!)