Show Notes

May 20, 2020 by Hannah Leave a Comment

Quarantea: Yellow Fever 1793

In the third installment of our limited series, we discuss the outbreak of Yellow Fever, which ravaged Philadelphia in the year 1793, along with the various treatments for this particularly terrible plague. We also discuss the manner in which the very new American Government handled the situation, how mercury and Vicks vapour rub got involved, along with a smattering of Hamilton references.

Listen on Buzzsprout here!

In 1793, Philadelphia held a special place in the newly formed United States. Only 10 years past the Revolutionary War, the city was acting as a temporary center of the government during the construction of the new capital building in Washington. Adding to its importance was the port, surrounded by seven blocks where most of the occupied homes were located.

In late spring, merchant ships came into port, fleeing a slave uprising in northern Saint Dominique (now known as Haiti). Donated by a wealthy Philadelphian named Steven Girard to assist in relocation, they carried 1400 French refugees and 600 enslaved persons. Reports indicate that passengers began showing symptoms of illness en route, and their arrival in the densely-packed housing districts only spread the contagion.

Yellow Fever is a virus that is thought to have originated in West Africa. It spread to the Caribbean and North America via the slave trade on ships owned by Dutch and American companies. Mosquitos, the vectors of the disease, were able to cross the ocean on these ships and were causing outbreaks in Barbados and Guadalupe by the mid-1600s. Certainly by 1793, symptoms were familiar enough to be recognized by those who had encountered it before.

Once the mosquitos aboard Girard’s ships came ashore, they were able to breed quickly in the standing water in the streets, as well as outhouses built close to wells. Because mosquitos travel only about a quarter of a mile during their lifetimes, the initial spread of the disease took time, with each generation of the bugs expanding their territory a little further during their two-weeks on earth.

In both 1793 and modern outbreaks, Yellow Fever is characterized by rapid development of a high fever, flushed face, nausea, joint and muscle pain, fatigue, and an infection of the upper eyelid. After initial onset, the fever will relent, only to return a few days later with yellowing of the skin known as jaundice (caused by damage to the liver) that gives the virus its name. As tissue damage continues, the gums and gastrointestinal tract will bleed, leading to vomiting of black blood, shock, and death. In modern cases where patients develop jaundice, the death rate is between 20 and 50%.

As the death count rose, Stephen Girard felt responsibility for the outbreak, as he had provided the ships that carried the contagion. He threw himself into efforts to care for the sick, establishing a care center at Bush Hill and personally performing the duties of a nurse at the peak of the epidemic.

*Illustration of Stephen Girard assisting a patient.*

Other city leaders and doctors had more creative approaches to stopping the spread. Suggestions ranged from avoiding night air (probably effective as mosquitos are nocturnal) to exploding caches of gunpowder in the streets to improve the air quality (less effective but more entertaining). See our episode for a lively and full discussion of various remedies, as well as which 18th century cures we would opt for! Spoiler: early heroic medicine was given a hard pass by each of your hosts.

*And when we say “early heroic medicine”, we are looking at Benjamin Rush.*

Three months after it began, the disease relented as the chilly fall air killed off the mosquitos. The city slowly relaxed, and government officials began to trickle back into the city. Alexander Hamilton had never left, and contracted and survived the fever. George Washington, who had avoided the disease by leaving town, refused to return until the first good hard frost.

Yellow Fever would return to Philadelphia in the coming years, but never with the terrible impact of its 1793 rampage. It would take 145 years until a vaccine would be available, but since its debut in 1938, only 12 post-vaccination cases have been identified. The vaccine appears to provide lifelong immunity, so the WHO recommends vaccinating infants between 9 and 12 months in areas where the fever occurs frequently (mainly the tropics). Though Yellow Fever continues to take lives each year, it is no longer an unstoppable force.

April 21, 2020 by Hannah Leave a Comment

Quarantea: The Black Death

In the second episode of our limited Series “Quarantea”, we learn about the fabled Black Death. We hear even more dramatic reading from Allison, her death plushies make yet another appearance, and Hannah describes in vivid detail how this horrible disease took hold, all while we debate whether fleas can cough.

Listen on Buzzsprout here!

The story of the Black Death is a complicated one that likely began somewhere in China with the bite of a flea on an infected rat. By the mid-1340s, rumors were circulating of a pestilence blazing through India, Persia, Syria, and Egypt, leaving death in its wake. And it was on its way to Europe.

*Theodor Kittelson,* “Pesta Comes”, *1900*

The plague arrived in Europe in October 1347, when 12 ships from the Black Sea docked at the Sicilian port of Messina. Most of the sailors were dead and the ones who were alive were succumbing to a terrifying disease. They were quickly forced by the authorities to leave, but it wasn’t soon enough.

From that port in Messina, the plague made its way through the continent. Just like today, it arrived first in port towns like Marseilles in France and Tunis in North Africa. It wreaked a special kind of havoc in Florence and Rome, the densely-populated hubs of massive trade routes. They were seeing lots of traffic due to recent developments (Marco Polo had completed his legendary journeys just over 50 years prior). By the middle of 1348, plague had reached Paris, Bordeaux, and London.

*Like the world’s most unwelcome DoorDash.*

As the disease raged, Welsh poet Ieuan Gethin described the black sores (referred to as “buboes”), which he saw first-hand in 1349:

“We see death coming into our midst like black smoke, a plague which cuts off the young, a rootless phantom which has no mercy for fair countenance[…] It is of the form of an apple, like the head of an onion, a small boil that spares no-one. Great is its seething, like a burning cinder, a grievous thing of ashy color…They are similar to the seeds of the black peas, broken fragments of brittle sea-coal…cinders of the peelings of the cockle weed, a mixed multitude, a black plague like half pence, like berries[…]“

In England, Henry Knighton referenced the plague’s speed and steady march from East to West:

“Few kept their beds more than two or three days, or even half a day. Then this cruel death spread everywhere around, following the course of the sun.”

Plague doctor ensemble. A slight correction to our statements in the episode: it appears this particular look was in vogue during outbreaks of the plague in the 1600s, not the initial wave in the 1300s.

The plague was merciless, leaving physicians of the time unable to offer any effective remedy. Death tolls varied by location, but estimates place it at about 1/3 of the world’s population. In some communities, fatality was 100%, the villages left to be reclaimed by nature. In Florence, the death toll was so great that the burial process had to be adapted:

“At every church they dug deep pits down to the water level; and thus those who were poor who died during the night were bundled up quickly and thrown into the pit; they then took some earth and shoveled it down on top of them; and later others were placed on top of them and then another layer of earth, just as one makes lasagna with layers of pasta and cheese.” (Marchione di Coppo Stefani, eyewitness of the plague in 1348)

Survivors, and those who hadn’t yet fallen sick, were left to respond to the trauma as they would. Some blamed minorities for the disease, others moved into the homes of wealthy victims of the plague and tried to live as much of the high life as they could. Others, known as the flagellants, could only believe this was a judgement from God and roamed from town to town, whipping themselves in an attempt to take the punishment upon themselves.

While this wave of the disease eventually burned itself out around 1351, Europe would suffer further outbreaks well into the 1600s. It wasn’t until an outbreak in Hong Kong in 1894 that a doctor named Alexandre Yersin would finally identify the bacteria responsible for the bubonic plague. It was dubbed Yersinia pestis in his honor.

*Electron microscope image of Yersinia pestis bacterium. Why, pestis?*

Despite many matches between descriptions in historic records and modern outbreaks, as well as evidence of ancient Y. pestis DNA in many plague graves, some researchers express doubts as to whether bubonic plague was the only or even primary cause of the 1347-51 epidemic. One key discrepancy is transmission rate: it is typically spread by fleas, which feed upon infected rats and then cough the bacteria back into the bloodstream of the next human they bite. Some hold that this process could not have carried the plague fast enough to be the culprit. Other discrepancies include a climate that was too cold for the black rat and the absence of the evidence of the massive rodent die-off that typically precedes modern plague outbreaks.

However, other researchers point out that Y. pestis causes not only bubonic plague, but also septicemic and pneumonic plague. Septicemic plague happens when the bacteria poisons the blood, and can be spread by contact with bodily fluids. Pneumonic plague results when Y. pestis infiltrates the lungs. It can be spread by coughing, sneezing, and even breathing. The combined transmission of the same bacteria by fleas, contact with fluids, and airborne particles would account for a much faster spread of the disease.

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is P0-1024x1024.jpeg — *Maybe it wasn’t just the rats after all.*

We often think of individuals living in medieval times as having a kind of emotional immunity to death because they were, for lack of a better term, “used to it”. And it can’t be denied that due to things like disease, infant mortality, and childbirth, they did experience it much more frequently than we do today. But accounts of the Black Death show a response to loss that rings achingly familiar across nearly 700 years.

In 1348, Edward III of England sent his daughter on a journey to Castile, where she was to marry the heir to the throne. In France, her retinue was stricken with the plague and Joan died at the age of 14. In his letter informing the king of Castile, Edward writes of the experience:

“No fellow human being could be surprised if we were inwardly desolated by the sting of this bitter grief, for we are humans too.”

*Statue said to depict Joan of England.*

April 17, 2020 by Hannah Leave a Comment

Quarantea: The Plague of Athens

In the first episode of our limited series on the plagues of the past, we dive into the plague of Athens. In a lively discussion led by Allison, we talk about how the Athenians and their neighboring city-states handled the epidemic, some unique funeral practices, as well as Allison’s collection of death plushies. We also talk about DNA and, of course, our beloved troll person Andrew Lloyd Webber.

Listen on Buzzsprout here!

In order to learn about the plague of Athens, we turn to someone who had first-hand experience with the events: Thucydides. In addition to being a great sculpture model, he also not only lived through and chronicledthe plague of Athens, but contracted and SURVIVED it. He also had a longstanding rivalry with fellow historian Herodotus (click here for the full story courtesy of Kate Beaton!)

*Herodotus* *scoffs at your “impartial history” and raises you one giant ant.*

Our story begins about 2,400 years ago in the Greek Isles. After the Persian empire had left the area, Sparta and Athens were left in a fight for dominance. Sparta took the land war approach, trying to blockade Athens and starve them out.

Athens is inside the black circle. Also, we might have added an extra note to this map.

In response, Athens built an encompassing wall about 3 3/4 miles long to provide a safe connection to their port city even under siege. The rural population also moved inside the walls for safety, which is said to have tripled the combined population of the two cities.

Into this dangerous combination of a port city with crowded conditions came the plague. Seemingly healthy individuals would be stricken with coughing fits and other respiratory symptoms, inability to sleep, dry heaving, skin breakouts similar to pimples or ulcers, and a strange feeling of heat of the inner body (though patients were noted to feel cool to the touch). This inflammation would extend to the eyes, throat, and tongue, to the point that sufferers “could not bear […] to be otherwise than stark naked.” Thucydides painted a dark picture:

“The bodies of dying men lay one upon another, and half-dead creatures reeled about the streets and gathered round all the fountains in their longing for water. The sacred places also which they had quartered themselves were full of corpses of persons that had died there, just as they were; for the disaster passed all bounds, men, not knowing what was to become of them, because utterly careless of everything, whether sacred or profane”.

*Current mood: second figure from the left.*

By the time the disease finally burned out, an estimated 77,000 to 100,000 people had perished. Survivors were often left with missing fingers and toes, as well as loss of sight due to the disease.

In addition to taking the lives and health of many Athenians, the plague also took a a social and political toll. Many of the upper class died, leaving their money to the hands of the lower class. There was also a drop in citizens able to fight in the wars, leading to the decline of Athens as a superpower of the ancient world.

Theories range as to the cause of this ancient epidemic, especially since its ancient context makes it difficult to retrieve forensic evidence. Popular contenders are bubonic plague, typhus, measles, smallpox, and even hemorrhagic fevers such as Ebola (it was known to have originated in African ports). In 1999, the University of Maryland hosted a medical conference in which it was agreed that the most likely culprit was typhoid, based on current knowledge and contemporary accounts. A 2005 analysis of remains from an Athenian plague pit revealed the bacteria Salmonella enterica, which causes typhoid. However, the pit had also been contaminated by hogs (known carriers of salmonella) around the same time period.

Of all the epidemics covered in this series, the Plague of Athens is the farthest-removed from us by time, scientific advancements and, for some of us, even geography. But the lives it took and its impact on society is no less important for its distance.

In the 1990s, excavations of a plague pit revealed skeletal remains of an 11-year-old girl lost to the disease. Scientists recreated her facial features and gave her the name Myrtis. In 2010, she was named a Friend of the United Nations, and “wrote” a letter as part of their world campaign to end poverty:

“My death was inevitable. In the 5th century BC we had neither the knowledge nor the means to fight deadly illnesses. However, you, the people of the 21st century, have no excuse. You possess all the necessary means and resources to save the lives of millions of people. To save the lives of millions of children like me who are dying of preventable and curable diseases [….] Listen to me. I know what I’m saying. Never forget that I’m much older and therefore much wiser than you.”

March 30, 2020 by Hannah Leave a Comment

Princes in the Tower Part I

In this episode, we give a brief primer on the The Wars of The Roses, discuss the major players involved in the mystery that is the Princes in the Tower, and give a shoutout to Sean Bean and Yorkshire Gold tea.

Listen on Buzzsprout here!

Welcome to our coverage of the Princes in the Tower! While many of us have probably heard about this historical mystery, it’s a much better story if you know the background. So let’s do a quick recap of about 100 years of English history and the roots of the War of the Roses!

It all began in 1377, when Edward the III died and left his heir to inherit the throne. Unfortunately, his heir, Edward the Black Prince of Wales, had died the year before.

Now, in England at the time the laws of primogeniture meant that the firstborn son would inherit the throne. There’s two ways to interpret this. It could mean the oldest son and his line, or the oldest son and then to his brothers in order of age. In this case, they went with the first option, and the crown went to the Black Prince’s son Richard.

Richard the Second (henceforth to be referred to as Ricky) became king at age 10. There was a precedent for this, it wasn’t unheard of for an heir to be very young when they inherited the throne. Usually the solution was a regency: other nobles governed the country while slowly training in the heir. When the heir came of age, they would take the reins. In this case, the regents were Ricky’s uncles: Uncle One, John of Gaunt (also known as the Duke of Lancaster) and Uncle Two: Thomas of Gloucester.

These two regents were, of course, younger sons of Edward III. And they felt that, being sons of the king, they should have had their turn to inherit before their nephew. On top of this, Ricky wasn’t knocking it out of the park as a king. Though he did shine in a few instances (such as the Peasants’ Revolt), he had a tendency to play favorites and that did not go over well with his court. His uncle Thomas led a rebellion attempting to depose Ricky, but was ultimately unsuccessful (read: executed). However, Ricky’s government was ready to topple, and there was someone ready to do the toppling.

And who was it? To answer that, we’ll have to return to Uncle One, John of Gaunt. He had gotten married and had an heir named Henry, Duke of Bolingbroke. Bolingbroke thought that he had a claim to the throne– in his opinion, it should have gone to his father in the first place. So he headed up a revolt, convinced Parliament to recognize him as King, and sent Ricky to starve in a castle in the north.

As the son of John of Gaunt, Bolingbroke’s reign began the House of Lancaster. When he passed away, his son inherited fairly smoothly. You may remember him as the very-forgettable, totally-not-a-big-deal Henry the Fifth.

Henry has been seen historically as one of the greatest kings of England. He went to war with France and won, something England had been seeking for many years. He married Catherine of Valois, daughter of the French king, with and agreement from her father that their son would be crowned king of both England and France. He is said to have been harsh but fair, which was seen as the ideal balance in ruling. In summary, he set a bar for kingship that would stand in England for hundreds of years.

Unfortunately, just a little more than two years after sealing his truce with France, Henry was dead.

All was not lost, though. Henry had left an heir, yet another Henry. Unfortunately, he was still a baby. So though Baby Henry was crowned king of England and France, another regency would be necessary to keep the kingdom until he reached his majority. His mother, now the Dowager Queen Catherine of Valois, led the regency with Baby Henry’s two uncles. One took charge of England. The other went to hold the fort in France until Henry grew up.

Unfortunately, Henry was not wired for the position life put him in (see our episode for a savage quote on this topic read to perfection by Allison). He was mild-mannered, and not in a Clark Kent kind of way. He was also very pious, preferring the pursuits of the soul to the governing of the realm.

Because of this, his reign was a bit of a disaster. Within 16 years of him taking the throne, England had lost almost everything his father had won in the war with France. This was due in no small part to other factors (not the least of which was a young peasant girl named Jeanne d’Arc), but it was still a crushing blow not only to England, but the public perception of the monarchy.

Henry also suffered from recurring bouts of what was thought to be madness. Today, explanations range from epilepsy to psychosis, but whatever the reason, the political effect was the same: another regency was needed.

*“OK, Henry. Let’s let someone else try their hand at this ‘ruling’ thing, hmm?”*

Coming in as the pinch-hitter for the kingdom was a man named, once again, Richard of York (henceforth to be called Rich). His grandfather had been Edmund of York, youngest son of Edward III. He was fairly successful as regent of England, and eventually decided that he could probably do a better job if he were simply crowned king. After all, he had a claim to the throne too.

*You know what they say: never lose sight of the branch on the right!*

His campaign for kingship blossomed into the civil war that we all think of as the Wars of the Roses. At a certain point, Lancastrians (supporters of King Henry VI) began to be symbolized by a red rose and Yorkists (supporters of Rich) by a white rose.

Unfortunately. Rich died before his claim was realized. But once again, there was an heir to continue the line: Edward, who was 18 years old and able to take up the cause.

Edward was the perfect image of a king. 6’4″ tall, charming, and an excellent fighter, he was successful in claiming the crown, even fitting time for a whirlwind, fairytale romance into his busy schedule. His reign brought England a period of peace, briefly interrupted a few years in when the former queen, Margaret of Anjou, led a rebellion to reclaim the kingdom. For a time, Edward was forced to flee to a Belgium, but returned to power with the help of his brothers.

George and Richard were a contrasting set of characters. George was grasping, frequently treacherous, and never contented with his station in life. He had even joined Margaret of Anjou’s rebellion in hopes of becoming king himself, but returned to Edward’s side and was pardoned. Richard, on the other hand, had followed Edward to his exile in Belgium, fought by his side, and done everything by the book. The king had rewarded this loyalty by making him Lord High Constable of England at only 18 years old.

*George, redefining the word “entitled” since 1449.*

So we leave this story on a peaceful note. After 100 years of fighting, England is at rest. The soldiers can go back to their homes, and the York brothers are in harmony again. The only off-key note was that somewhere, hidden in the background, the old king died in Edward’s custody.

But on to happier things. Did we mention that the king has not just one, but two heirs? Edward, born in sanctuary while his father was in exile, and Richard. Two princes to take up the cause.

Show Notes

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