#if this epidemic is not remedied i shall do it MYSELF!!

[m0urn1ngstar]

ngl y'all. There's not enough sugarbaby!gihun fics for my liking...this pathetic man deserves to be taken care of cmon now

[magnoliasinbloom]

The Midwife - II

AO3 :: Previously

II

The walls of Castle Leoch loomed before me. I trudged through the muddy yard in search of the head steward or housekeeper. I hoisted the bundle that held a spare set of clothes, a medicine box of dried herbs and tonics, some money, and a letter of introduction. Jamie’s pearls were sewn into the hem of my skirt. The thought that he was near spurred me on.

I spotted a blonde waif of a girl, carrying a basket of eggs. I approached her with a cautious smile. “Good evening. Might I ask, do you know where I might find the head housekeeper?”

“Aye, mistress, she’s my grandmother,” she responded courteously. “Are ye selling something?”

“No, child,” I said. “I’m a healer. I wondered if perhaps there was need of my services here.”

“Perhaps, but ‘tis the laird makes these decisions.” She pursed her lips. “Follow me, mistress, we’ll see if aught can be done.”

I walked behind her to the castle kitchens. Inside, it was warm, a welcome respite from the early spring chill in the air. Setting the basket carefully on a table, the girl went in search of her grandmother. I looked around; the kitchen was large and extremely clean. This seemed like a good sign. A few girls lingered in the corner, kneading bread and giggling.

“Ma’am?” The girl was back with an older, stout lady with grizzled hair in tow. “Here’s Mistress Fitzgibbons, my granny.”

“Och, dearie, ye can call me Mrs. Fitz like everybody else. My granddaughter says ye’re a healer. Are ye a Beaton?”

“Pardon, a Beaton?”

“The Beatons are a long line of distinguished and rare healers. One of them, Davie Beaton, bided here, but he passed away recently. Lockjaw—nasty thing.”

I cleared my throat. “I am not a Beaton, but I have recently come from an apprenticeship as a healer, in Paris. I am skilled in midwifery as well. If you would care to present the matter to the laird directly.” I felt a cold sweat break out underneath my dress.

“I think he’ll be glad to have ye, lass. The Gathering is near, and I cannot manage the food and the cleaning as well as tending to all the folk that need care.” Mrs. Fitz gestured for me to sit. “After Davie’s death, we have Father Bain to rely on to heal bodies and souls, but he’s all the way out in Cranesmuir. Ye’ll have passed through the village?”

I nodded. The village had seemed small and drab, all muddy lanes and leaning houses. “I’ve never traveled this far north in Scotland.”

“All I have are home remedies and old wives’ lore, and that does for a turn. In the woods…” here she lowered her voice to a whisper. “There’s a wise-woman, ye ken? She has medicines too—but only if ye’re desperate enough.”

I shivered. “I hope no one will be desperate, now that I’m here. If the laird will have me, of course.”

“Aye, I’m sure he will! Here, lass.” Mrs. Fitz set out bread and cheese for me. “I shall return presently with an answer.” She bustled away, pulling her shawl tightly around her shoulders before stopping abruptly and turning. “Silly me, dearie. I never asked for yer name!”

“Beauchamp. Julia Beauchamp.”

* * *

Sister Madeleine had found me an hour or so after Malva disappeared. She had warmed me up with mulled wine and a dry shift. I told her what the evil salope had done with Mother Hildegarde and myself. The sister had apologized profusely for leaving me alone; but I knew that Malva would have bided her time for the perfect opportunity. I was lucky she had wished to make it seem like a natural death—she could have just as easily stabbed or strangled me.

We realized that Mother Hildegarde and I had not had smallpox at all; we had never broken out in spots. The symptoms of the illness corresponded to typhoid. In the panic of the epidemic, we had just written off the disease as smallpox. Slowly, gradually, I regained my health. My recovery was sluggish but steady. I spent weeks rebuilding my appetite and strength; I nagged the nuns so much eventually they relented and allowed me to care for a few patients for short periods.

My heart ached fiercely for Jamie. I wrote to him, letters that would likely never make it to Scotland. Few messengers went there, but most went through Jared—and I knew I could not trust him for the world. By the time I could stand without becoming dizzy, it was the end of January. I wondered what Jamie was doing every hour of the day, every moment. The hurt was always present, like a wound that would not heal. I missed my courses that month, but thought nothing of it; I had been ill and undernourished, which was cause enough. I would not think the unthinkable—that I was alone in Paris, with child, and without my husband. There were no other symptoms. I did not dare hope.

At first I thought Jamie would come back for me soon. Surely, he would not let his uncle keep us apart. He must have escaped at the first opportunity. It was obvious what I was up against: the might of the Fraser and MacKenzie clam, who did not approve of our marriage and who had ruthlessly taken Jamie away from me. So I lingered in Paris, uncertain of what to do next. I worked at l’hôpital, picking up the pieces the smallpox epidemic had left behind. The city woke up piecemeal, but soon recovered most of its bustle and vibrancy. Weeks passed, but Jamie did not return. My courses did, once I had regained some of the weight I had lost. There was no child then, nothing to tie me to Jamie but memories and a string of pearls that were almost as precious to me as Jamie himself.

Mother Hildegarde had called me into her study, stout and imposing once more. It was impossible to imagine the convent and l’hôpital without her. I sat with a cup of tea poured by the abbess herself.

“Ma chère, qu’est que vous faites ici?”

“I am working, finishing the apprenticeship,” I said cautiously.

“I meant, why have you not gone to your husband?”

I felt a twinge in my chest and looked down at my idle hands, chapped from the vinegar and constant washing. “A woman traveling alone—”

“That had been your mother’s fate, and yours until you came here. You are more than qualified to make your way in the world, with your husband by your side. God gave James Fraser to you, and you to him. Go, seek your husband.”

Seek the red man.

Mother Hildegarde gave me a purse of money, part wages and the donation Jamie had made on the day we parted. You’ll have need of it, she said. I booked passage on a packing boat down the Seine, and journeyed to northern France. At Le Havre I sailed across the channel on a larger ship. Safely tucked into my bag was a letter of introduction Mother Hildegarde had written for me, should need arise – I had a feeling it would.

Bordering the coast of England, we stopped briefly at certain ports along the way. I acted as the ship’s physician as soon as I had proven myself competent. I made friends with a young lad called Elias Pound.

We were only a few years apart, but we bonded quickly, each of us lonely and yearning—Elias for his mother, myself for Jamie. Elias’s company provided certain protection as well from unwelcome advances by rude sailors.

We made landfall at Inverness. I bid Elias goodbye, with instructions to eat green things to prevent scurvy. He squeezed my hand and with a reverent Godspeed, Mistress Beauchamp, we parted. I breathed in Scotland, its green and rolling hills dominating the view. This was the landscape that held my husband’s heart, and I could see why for myself now. The pure air was so different from the scents of Paris. It was now the end of April.

I joined a caravan of entertainers, mummers and musicians, who welcomed me heartily upon learning my trade. They would travel to small towns, including Cranesmuir near Leoch—I had asked specifically, heart pounding. Jamie was so close. During the journey north, I had delivered a healthy boy for a performer’s wife, and had joined them in a dram of whisky to celebrate. That had been weeks ago.

I finished my food. Mrs. Fitzgibbons returned at length, and heated up a basinful of hot water for washing. She lent me a brown ribbon for my hair. “You’ll want to look presentable for dinner in the hall,” she said. Would Jamie be there? I hoped so. I didn’t dare ask for him by name, not even to Mrs. Fitz—it wouldn’t be seemly to ask after a man, until I knew the lay of the land.  

We made our way to the hall. At the appropriate time, Mrs. Fitz pushed me gently forward, and I heard my new name as I was introduced—Mistress Julia Beauchamp. I walked the length of the hall, my knees shaking but my back straight. Dougal was tall, almost as tall as Jamie, with a fierce countenance that brooked no disobedience. This was the man that had separated us. I met his stare steadily, even as I curtsied. Defiance.

I rose, eyes boring into my back. My neck prickled and my heart seemed to sink and rise at once. I turned my head and met his sapphire gaze. Jamie.

[osmw1]

Poison-Wielding Fugitive   Chapter 22

“Father, is there anything else that you need?” “I’m alright for this here now. But the next batch will be a bit tricky, so I’ve got to get started on it soon.”

The trembling apothecary replies with a cough interspersed. That’s a little worrying.

“I’ll help out too.”

I begin tidying the messed-up room. Arleaf watches her dad so that she can make his work easier, even if only a bit. A coughing fit interrupts his work, but he soldiers on. He blends herbs both poisonous and not, along with some dried monster organs all together with his mortar and pestle. He then distills and boils the mixture, but the lengthy and complicated process still isn’t finished. During a break in their work, I meet Arleaf’s mother for the first time. She walked out to the shop from her bedroom.

“Haa… haa…” “Mother. Hold on, okay?”

Arleaf wipes the cold sweat off her mom’s face, wrings out the towel, and places it on her forehead to cool her down. I take a peek at Arleaf’s mom. I can see where Arleaf gets her good looks from. There’s a red spot around her collarbone… I see a petal.

A single petal… and according to Veno, she dies if the petal disappears. It’s no laughing matter anymore. There’s no way they didn’t notice her condition until now. While we wait for the medicine to be finished, I can only hope both Arleaf’s parents get better after taking it.

I’m not here to watch them work; I help out with the compounding. Seems like they’ve gotta turn a bunch of different ingredients into medicine. And after helping out at Arleaf’s home for a few hours…

“Almost done.”

Arleaf’s dad mutters out while holding back his coughs.

‘How baffling… that would only halt its progression but not completely cure the person of the disease. Does he want to test the vitality of the patients?’

What?! Why would they make something like that? Didn’t you say that they can easily recover if they take their meds?

‘Judging by that man’s work, it looks as though he knows not how to make medicine to treat Bloodflower… aye, it seems not all humans have found a cure.’

Hold on, Veno. You’re saying the cure isn’t common knowledge?

‘If that is the finished product, then indeed, I think he knows not.’

… that reminds me, Veno even knows how to make stamina recovery potions.

‘Perhaps, that is how the apothecary makes his money. By selling his symptomatic treatment and not curing the cause, he will have an unending source of income.’

No way he’d do that. Never mind himself, that’s his wife who’s been infected. That kind of profiteering just doesn’t make sense.

‘I wonder. Humans are greedy animals. There are humans that can simply abandon the sick, even if they are blood-related. For example, if a man wants another woman, his first wife becomes a nuisance.’

You’re cold. Why are humans such despicable creatures to you, Veno? You’re normally brimming with curiosity, and so I even go out of my way to tell you about things…

‘…’

He stays silent after hearing me out. However it may be, Veno, do you know how to make a proper cure? If you do, tell me and I’ll advise them.

‘By doing so, thou art beckoning misfortune upon thyself. Even I would avoid doing so. Dost thou recognize the risk of this action?’

… what do you mean by that?

‘Thou wilt not be recognized for thine efforts if thou should fail. We shall be driven out of this village.’

How awful for you to speak like that. I’m trying to do what I can to save these people. How can I do nothing and watch them suffer?

‘That medicine depends on the fortitude of the patient. There is a chance of survival; there is no need to be pessimistic.’

I can’t stand such a cold-hearted idea of prioritizing my own survival.

‘Thou… I do not disagree with thine feelings. In fact, I find it very noble. However… I have experienced how foolish humans can be, thus the reason for my advice.’

But I haven’t heard a single damn reason from you! How the hell am I supposed to understand anything?

‘Hah… listen then. Hear my advice then extend thine hand. I fear the burden of the repercussions will be too heavy for thee. I ask thee to refrain from making a hasty decision.’

A hasty decision?

‘Aye. Saving others will incur an appropriate liability. Should thou fail, they will hesitate not to turn upon thee. It matters not whether our intentions are good or not, they will come for thine head.’

Veno begins to explain. Once, there was a person trying to find a cure to the epidemic. By chance, he concocted a potion that was effective and shared it with the people closest to him. The ones who received help were thankful to him. Unfortunately, the cure he created was by accident. He was not able to eradicate the disease. Once the story of how he found a cure spread out, others surrounded him desperately demanded him to recreate the cure. Of course, he had no more cure to offer. He tried reasoning that he had only unexpectedly stumbled upon a working formula.

Those who clung to that small glimmer of hope found nothing in return. Anything else they did was rash and thoughtless, Veno lamented. This is the guy that spread the disease around, isn’t he? I bet that bunch bought their cure for an unimaginable amount of money! That’s right, they’re his accomplices. That makes them no better than him.

They’re witches—no, demons! Let’s get them! We’ll hunt them witches! Try them all!

The family of the dead arm themselves and lynch the ones who were saved. The ones who were saved were branded as witches…

‘… a long time ago, I was given a record of pharmaceutical insight. I spoke with this person and learned that he was repenting for living. Repenting, as the others who were not so lucky had shifted their blame on him, making him a scapegoat.’

… Veno must have a point in telling me all this. Man is bound to commit acts of foolishness. I can deduce that he’s trying to tell me that I could possibly hurt the innocent.

‘Thus, if I teach thee how to create a cure, thou ought to take responsibility. Ascertain whether thou can and should.’

… I can’t half-ass this. I really have to do this well and follow through with it.

‘I have come to be fond of thee. Hence I wish not to see thee needlessly hurt.’

I believe him. Really, that kind of thing isn’t out of the realm of possibility. What if I give people a hope but can’t follow through with it? That’s scary to think of. Not to mention, I’m a nobody. They’re just some village people from a strange and unknown parallel world.

“…”

Suddenly, I had a flashback of everything that had happened since I came here. Arleaf saved me, helped me complete quests, and got me a good rate at the inn. And though this village may be rather quiet, people took me in. Everyone’s been warm and cordial to me. To think that I could emotionally wall them off and think about my survival first…

I was only staying here to train and develop myself before the pursuers get to me. The swamp was simply convenient for me. I can make all these excuses, but I can’t excuse the fact that everyone treated me well. I chuckle a little at Veno.

‘What is it? Is something funny?’

I’m a wanted criminal because of you. If I do good, then they’ll have less of a reason to pursue us. That means I should help them out to fulfill my childish sense of justice. Even if Veno’s medicine doesn’t work, it doesn’t change a thing. I’d rather regret doing something than regret not doing anything at all.

‘Good grief… well, we have become stronger. Thou need only to do thine best. However, if others seem to do anything foolish, thou must follow my orders. Thou must protect thyself against any possible dangers.’

Suppose the villagers do anything foolish like Veno said, I have to listen to what Veno tells me to do to survive. I pray for that day never to come.

‘Then, I shall teach thee how to create a remedy for Bloodflower. Listen closely.’

Gotcha. As Arleaf’s father completes the finishing touches on his medicine, I grab the bowl he was planning to use.

“That won’t heal this disease.” “Hah? What are you sayin’, Cohgray?” “Yukihisa?”

Arleaf’s father glares at me with doubtful eyes while Arleaf worriedly watches us.

“You know that too, don’t you? This will only alleviate the symptoms of Bloodflower and nothing more. It depends on the patient’s system to fight the disease.” “… ah. But as everyone knows, this is the only thing that works against Bloodflower.” “I know of a cure for Bloodflower. I didn’t think it had spread this far, so I was a bit shocked is all.” “The hell you sayin’? If you’re going to screw around, then get the hell out of—cough cough cough.”

The instant the man looked at me when I interrupted him, his face flushed red with anger, only to be cut off by his violent coughing. I took the opportunity to bare his chest. Only one petal of blood remains.

His condition is as bad as his wife’s, who has been confined to her bed for a while. Impressive. Normally at this stage, people can’t get up. That’s what Veno’s said in his analysis of the disease.

“Father!”

Arleaf calls out while rubbing her father’s back, trying to soothe his cough.

“Cough cough. Ar-Arlea—cough.”

Arleaf’s father points at me, trying to get me out of his way.

“Mu…” “Father, I didn’t know your condition worsened this much…”

Flustered at the state her dad is in, Arleaf avoids looking him in the eyes. It doesn’t seem like Arleaf’s dad has the strength to force me out of his way either.

“Are you saying—there’s such a mi-miraculous drug…?” “Watch me. All I need to do is add a little more to what you’ve just made.”

I repeated what Veno had just said to me and continue Arleaf’s dad’s work. The poisonous herb pogneuk magically appears in front of my eyes. Consumption of it causes shortness of breath.

‘Mash the pogneuk with the mortar and pestle then add the neutralizer, making a potion. Add in a pinch of dietetrodake spores.’

I add the ingredients exactly as Veno instructs me to.

‘Then, take five milliliters of water squeezed out of marphina and mix that in. We do not have enough from the previous time we made it.’

I just wanted to double-check whether I’m making this right. Most of what I added in is toxic. This only looks real deadly to me. You sure this is okay?

‘Worry not and just do as I say. Up comes the hardest part. So that it accounts for five percent of the potion the apothecary has made, add in our concoction. Any less and it shall not be effective. Any more and it shall spell death.’

Gah… you couldn’t have made this any harder, could you? I can probably use Detect Poison on the final product, but I can’t stand to see myself fail now. I try to stop my hand from shaking so much and hope that this is five percent.

previously: /ch001/ /ch002/ /ch003/ /ch004/ /ch005/ /ch006/ /ch007/ /ch008/ /ch009/ /ch010/ /ch011/ /ch012/ /ch013/ /ch014/ /ch015/ /ch016/ /ch017/ /ch018/ /ch019/ /ch020/ /ch021/ /ch022/ /next/ (full list of translated chapters) (discussion thread on Novel Updates) (please support me on Patreon or Paypal)

[kristablogs]

This 17th-century plague diary hits a little too close to home

Diaries can be an important time capsule to disease-fighting practices. (Kvkrillow/Deposit Photos/)

Ute Lotz-Heumann is an associate professor and director of the Division for Late Medieval and Reformation Studies at the University of Arizona. This story originally featured on The Conversation.

In early April, writer Jen Miller urged New York Times readers to start a coronavirus diary.

“Who knows,” she wrote, “maybe one day your diary will provide a valuable window into this period.”

During a different pandemic, one 17th-century British naval administrator named Samuel Pepys did just that. He fastidiously kept a diary from 1660 to 1669—a period of time that included a severe outbreak of the bubonic plague in London. Epidemics have always haunted humans, but rarely do we get such a detailed glimpse into one person’s life during a crisis from so long ago.

There were no Zoom meetings, drive-through testing, or ventilators in 17th-century London. But Pepys’ diary reveals that there were some striking resemblances in how people responded to the pandemic.

A creeping sense of crisis

For Pepys and the inhabitants of London, there was no way of knowing whether an outbreak of the plague that occurred in the parish of St. Giles, a poor area outside the city walls, in late 1664 and early 1665 would become an epidemic.

The plague first entered Pepys’ consciousness enough to warrant a diary entry on April 30, 1665: “Great fears of the Sickenesse here in the City,” he wrote, “it being said that two or three houses are already shut up. God preserve us all.”

Portrait of Samuel Pepys by John Hayls (1666). (National Portrait Gallery/)

Pepys continued to live his life normally until the beginning of June, when, for the first time, he saw houses “shut up”—the term his contemporaries used for quarantine—with his own eyes, “marked with a red cross upon the doors, and ‘Lord have mercy upon us’ writ there.” After this, Pepys became increasingly troubled by the outbreak.

He soon observed corpses being taken to their burial in the streets, and a number of his acquaintances died, including his own physician.

By mid-August, he had drawn up his will, writing, “that I shall be in much better state of soul, I hope, if it should please the Lord to call me away this sickly time.” Later that month, he wrote of deserted streets; the pedestrians he encountered were “walking like people that had taken leave of the world.”

Tracking mortality counts

In London, the Company of Parish Clerks printed “bills of mortality,” the weekly tallies of burials.

Because these lists noted London’s burials—not deaths—they undoubtedly undercounted the dead. Just as we follow these numbers closely today, Pepys documented the growing number of plague victims in his diary.

At the end of August, he cited the bill of mortality as having recorded 6,102 victims of the plague, but feared “that the true number of the dead this week is near 10,000,” mostly because the victims among the urban poor weren’t counted. A week later, he noted the official number of 6,978 in one week, “a most dreadfull Number.”

By mid-September, all attempts to control the plague were failing. Quarantines were not being enforced, and people gathered in places like the Royal Exchange. Social distancing, in short, was not happening.

He was equally alarmed by people attending funerals in spite of official orders. Although plague victims were supposed to be interred at night, this system broke down as well, and Pepys griped that burials were taking place “in broad daylight.”

Desperate for remedies

There are few known effective treatment options for COVID-19. Medical and scientific research need time, but people hit hard by the virus are willing to try anything. Fraudulent treatments, from teas and colloidal silver, to cognac and cow urine, have been floated.

Although Pepys lived during the Scientific Revolution, nobody in the 17th century knew that the Yersinia pestis bacterium carried by fleas caused the plague. Instead, the era’s scientists theorized that the plague was spreading through miasma, or “bad air” created by rotting organic matter and identifiable by its foul smell. Some of the most popular measures to combat the plague involved purifying the air by smoking tobacco or by holding herbs and spices in front of one’s nose.

Tobacco was the first remedy that Pepys sought during the plague outbreak. In early June, seeing shut-up houses “put me into an ill conception of myself and my smell, so that I was forced to buy some roll-tobacco to smell … and chaw.” Later, in July, a noble patroness gave him “a bottle of plague-water”—a medicine made from various herbs. But he wasn’t sure whether any of this was effective. Having participated in a coffeehouse discussion about “the plague growing upon us in this town and remedies against it,” he could only conclude that “some saying one thing, some another.”

A 1666 engraving by John Dunstall depicts deaths and burials in London during the bubonic plague. (Museum of London/)

During the outbreak, Pepys was also very concerned with his frame of mind; he constantly mentioned that he was trying to be in good spirits. This was not only an attempt to “not let it get to him”—as we might say today—but also informed by the medical theory of the era, which claimed that an imbalance of the so-called humors in the body—blood, black bile, yellow bile and phlegm—led to disease.

Melancholy, which, according to doctors, resulted from an excess of black bile, could be dangerous to one’s health, so Pepys sought to suppress negative emotions; on Sept. 14, for example, he wrote that hearing about dead friends and acquaintances “doth put me into great apprehensions of melancholy. … But I put off the thoughts of sadness as much as I can.”

Balancing paranoia and risk

Humans are social animals and thrive on interaction, so it’s no surprise that so many have found social distancing during the coronavirus pandemic challenging. It can require constant risk assessment: How close is too close? How can we avoid infection and keep our loved ones safe, while also staying sane? What should we do when someone in our house develops a cough?

During the plague, this sort of paranoia also abounded. Pepys found that when he left London and entered other towns, the townspeople became visibly nervous about visitors.

“They are afeared of us that come to them,” he wrote in mid-July, “insomuch that I am troubled at it.”

Pepys succumbed to paranoia himself: In late July, his servant Will suddenly developed a headache. Fearing that his entire house would be shut up if a servant came down with the plague, Pepys mobilized all his other servants to get Will out of the house as quickly as possible. It turned out that Will didn’t have the plague, and he returned the next day.

In early September, Pepys refrained from wearing a wig he bought in an area of London that was a hotspot of the disease, and he wondered whether other people would also fear wearing wigs because they could potentially be made of the hair of plague victims.

And yet he was willing to risk his health to meet certain needs; by early October, he visited his mistress without any regard for the danger. “Round about and next door on every side is the plague, but I did not value it but there did what I could con ella.”

Just as people around the world eagerly wait for a falling death toll as a sign of the pandemic letting up, so did Pepys derive hope—and perhaps the impetus to see his mistress—from the first decline in deaths in mid-September. A week later, he noted a substantial decline of more than 1,800.

Let’s hope that, like Pepys, we’ll soon see some light at the end of the tunnel.

[asfeedin]

This 17th-century plague diary hits a little too close to home

Diaries can be an important time capsule to disease-fighting practices. (Kvkrillow/Deposit Photos/)

Ute Lotz-Heumann is an associate professor and director of the Division for Late Medieval and Reformation Studies at the University of Arizona. This story originally featured on The Conversation.

In early April, writer Jen Miller urged New York Times readers to start a coronavirus diary.

“Who knows,” she wrote, “maybe one day your diary will provide a valuable window into this period.”

During a different pandemic, one 17th-century British naval administrator named Samuel Pepys did just that. He fastidiously kept a diary from 1660 to 1669—a period of time that included a severe outbreak of the bubonic plague in London. Epidemics have always haunted humans, but rarely do we get such a detailed glimpse into one person’s life during a crisis from so long ago.

There were no Zoom meetings, drive-through testing, or ventilators in 17th-century London. But Pepys’ diary reveals that there were some striking resemblances in how people responded to the pandemic.

A creeping sense of crisis

For Pepys and the inhabitants of London, there was no way of knowing whether an outbreak of the plague that occurred in the parish of St. Giles, a poor area outside the city walls, in late 1664 and early 1665 would become an epidemic.

The plague first entered Pepys’ consciousness enough to warrant a diary entry on April 30, 1665: “Great fears of the Sickenesse here in the City,” he wrote, “it being said that two or three houses are already shut up. God preserve us all.”

Portrait of Samuel Pepys by John Hayls (1666). (National Portrait Gallery/)

Pepys continued to live his life normally until the beginning of June, when, for the first time, he saw houses “shut up”—the term his contemporaries used for quarantine—with his own eyes, “marked with a red cross upon the doors, and ‘Lord have mercy upon us’ writ there.” After this, Pepys became increasingly troubled by the outbreak.

He soon observed corpses being taken to their burial in the streets, and a number of his acquaintances died, including his own physician.

By mid-August, he had drawn up his will, writing, “that I shall be in much better state of soul, I hope, if it should please the Lord to call me away this sickly time.” Later that month, he wrote of deserted streets; the pedestrians he encountered were “walking like people that had taken leave of the world.”

Tracking mortality counts

In London, the Company of Parish Clerks printed “bills of mortality,” the weekly tallies of burials.

Because these lists noted London’s burials—not deaths—they undoubtedly undercounted the dead. Just as we follow these numbers closely today, Pepys documented the growing number of plague victims in his diary.

At the end of August, he cited the bill of mortality as having recorded 6,102 victims of the plague, but feared “that the true number of the dead this week is near 10,000,” mostly because the victims among the urban poor weren’t counted. A week later, he noted the official number of 6,978 in one week, “a most dreadfull Number.”

By mid-September, all attempts to control the plague were failing. Quarantines were not being enforced, and people gathered in places like the Royal Exchange. Social distancing, in short, was not happening.

He was equally alarmed by people attending funerals in spite of official orders. Although plague victims were supposed to be interred at night, this system broke down as well, and Pepys griped that burials were taking place “in broad daylight.”

Desperate for remedies

There are few known effective treatment options for COVID-19. Medical and scientific research need time, but people hit hard by the virus are willing to try anything. Fraudulent treatments, from teas and colloidal silver, to cognac and cow urine, have been floated.

Although Pepys lived during the Scientific Revolution, nobody in the 17th century knew that the Yersinia pestis bacterium carried by fleas caused the plague. Instead, the era’s scientists theorized that the plague was spreading through miasma, or “bad air” created by rotting organic matter and identifiable by its foul smell. Some of the most popular measures to combat the plague involved purifying the air by smoking tobacco or by holding herbs and spices in front of one’s nose.

Tobacco was the first remedy that Pepys sought during the plague outbreak. In early June, seeing shut-up houses “put me into an ill conception of myself and my smell, so that I was forced to buy some roll-tobacco to smell … and chaw.” Later, in July, a noble patroness gave him “a bottle of plague-water”—a medicine made from various herbs. But he wasn’t sure whether any of this was effective. Having participated in a coffeehouse discussion about “the plague growing upon us in this town and remedies against it,” he could only conclude that “some saying one thing, some another.”

A 1666 engraving by John Dunstall depicts deaths and burials in London during the bubonic plague. (Museum of London/)

During the outbreak, Pepys was also very concerned with his frame of mind; he constantly mentioned that he was trying to be in good spirits. This was not only an attempt to “not let it get to him”—as we might say today—but also informed by the medical theory of the era, which claimed that an imbalance of the so-called humors in the body—blood, black bile, yellow bile and phlegm—led to disease.

Melancholy, which, according to doctors, resulted from an excess of black bile, could be dangerous to one’s health, so Pepys sought to suppress negative emotions; on Sept. 14, for example, he wrote that hearing about dead friends and acquaintances “doth put me into great apprehensions of melancholy. … But I put off the thoughts of sadness as much as I can.”

Balancing paranoia and risk

Humans are social animals and thrive on interaction, so it’s no surprise that so many have found social distancing during the coronavirus pandemic challenging. It can require constant risk assessment: How close is too close? How can we avoid infection and keep our loved ones safe, while also staying sane? What should we do when someone in our house develops a cough?

During the plague, this sort of paranoia also abounded. Pepys found that when he left London and entered other towns, the townspeople became visibly nervous about visitors.

“They are afeared of us that come to them,” he wrote in mid-July, “insomuch that I am troubled at it.”

Pepys succumbed to paranoia himself: In late July, his servant Will suddenly developed a headache. Fearing that his entire house would be shut up if a servant came down with the plague, Pepys mobilized all his other servants to get Will out of the house as quickly as possible. It turned out that Will didn’t have the plague, and he returned the next day.

In early September, Pepys refrained from wearing a wig he bought in an area of London that was a hotspot of the disease, and he wondered whether other people would also fear wearing wigs because they could potentially be made of the hair of plague victims.

And yet he was willing to risk his health to meet certain needs; by early October, he visited his mistress without any regard for the danger. “Round about and next door on every side is the plague, but I did not value it but there did what I could con ella.”

Just as people around the world eagerly wait for a falling death toll as a sign of the pandemic letting up, so did Pepys derive hope—and perhaps the impetus to see his mistress—from the first decline in deaths in mid-September. A week later, he noted a substantial decline of more than 1,800.

Let’s hope that, like Pepys, we’ll soon see some light at the end of the tunnel.

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Tags: 17thcentury, close, diary, hits, home, plague

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This 17th-century plague diary hits a little too close to home

Diaries can be an important time capsule to disease-fighting practices. (Kvkrillow/Deposit Photos/)

Ute Lotz-Heumann is an associate professor and director of the Division for Late Medieval and Reformation Studies at the University of Arizona. This story originally featured on The Conversation.

In early April, writer Jen Miller urged New York Times readers to start a coronavirus diary.

“Who knows,” she wrote, “maybe one day your diary will provide a valuable window into this period.”

During a different pandemic, one 17th-century British naval administrator named Samuel Pepys did just that. He fastidiously kept a diary from 1660 to 1669—a period of time that included a severe outbreak of the bubonic plague in London. Epidemics have always haunted humans, but rarely do we get such a detailed glimpse into one person’s life during a crisis from so long ago.

There were no Zoom meetings, drive-through testing, or ventilators in 17th-century London. But Pepys’ diary reveals that there were some striking resemblances in how people responded to the pandemic.

A creeping sense of crisis

For Pepys and the inhabitants of London, there was no way of knowing whether an outbreak of the plague that occurred in the parish of St. Giles, a poor area outside the city walls, in late 1664 and early 1665 would become an epidemic.

The plague first entered Pepys’ consciousness enough to warrant a diary entry on April 30, 1665: “Great fears of the Sickenesse here in the City,” he wrote, “it being said that two or three houses are already shut up. God preserve us all.”

Portrait of Samuel Pepys by John Hayls (1666). (National Portrait Gallery/)

Pepys continued to live his life normally until the beginning of June, when, for the first time, he saw houses “shut up”—the term his contemporaries used for quarantine—with his own eyes, “marked with a red cross upon the doors, and ‘Lord have mercy upon us’ writ there.” After this, Pepys became increasingly troubled by the outbreak.

He soon observed corpses being taken to their burial in the streets, and a number of his acquaintances died, including his own physician.

By mid-August, he had drawn up his will, writing, “that I shall be in much better state of soul, I hope, if it should please the Lord to call me away this sickly time.” Later that month, he wrote of deserted streets; the pedestrians he encountered were “walking like people that had taken leave of the world.”

Tracking mortality counts

In London, the Company of Parish Clerks printed “bills of mortality,” the weekly tallies of burials.

Because these lists noted London’s burials—not deaths—they undoubtedly undercounted the dead. Just as we follow these numbers closely today, Pepys documented the growing number of plague victims in his diary.

At the end of August, he cited the bill of mortality as having recorded 6,102 victims of the plague, but feared “that the true number of the dead this week is near 10,000,” mostly because the victims among the urban poor weren’t counted. A week later, he noted the official number of 6,978 in one week, “a most dreadfull Number.”

By mid-September, all attempts to control the plague were failing. Quarantines were not being enforced, and people gathered in places like the Royal Exchange. Social distancing, in short, was not happening.

He was equally alarmed by people attending funerals in spite of official orders. Although plague victims were supposed to be interred at night, this system broke down as well, and Pepys griped that burials were taking place “in broad daylight.”

Desperate for remedies

There are few known effective treatment options for COVID-19. Medical and scientific research need time, but people hit hard by the virus are willing to try anything. Fraudulent treatments, from teas and colloidal silver, to cognac and cow urine, have been floated.

Although Pepys lived during the Scientific Revolution, nobody in the 17th century knew that the Yersinia pestis bacterium carried by fleas caused the plague. Instead, the era’s scientists theorized that the plague was spreading through miasma, or “bad air” created by rotting organic matter and identifiable by its foul smell. Some of the most popular measures to combat the plague involved purifying the air by smoking tobacco or by holding herbs and spices in front of one’s nose.

Tobacco was the first remedy that Pepys sought during the plague outbreak. In early June, seeing shut-up houses “put me into an ill conception of myself and my smell, so that I was forced to buy some roll-tobacco to smell … and chaw.” Later, in July, a noble patroness gave him “a bottle of plague-water”—a medicine made from various herbs. But he wasn’t sure whether any of this was effective. Having participated in a coffeehouse discussion about “the plague growing upon us in this town and remedies against it,” he could only conclude that “some saying one thing, some another.”

A 1666 engraving by John Dunstall depicts deaths and burials in London during the bubonic plague. (Museum of London/)

During the outbreak, Pepys was also very concerned with his frame of mind; he constantly mentioned that he was trying to be in good spirits. This was not only an attempt to “not let it get to him”—as we might say today—but also informed by the medical theory of the era, which claimed that an imbalance of the so-called humors in the body—blood, black bile, yellow bile and phlegm—led to disease.

Melancholy, which, according to doctors, resulted from an excess of black bile, could be dangerous to one’s health, so Pepys sought to suppress negative emotions; on Sept. 14, for example, he wrote that hearing about dead friends and acquaintances “doth put me into great apprehensions of melancholy. … But I put off the thoughts of sadness as much as I can.”

Balancing paranoia and risk

Humans are social animals and thrive on interaction, so it’s no surprise that so many have found social distancing during the coronavirus pandemic challenging. It can require constant risk assessment: How close is too close? How can we avoid infection and keep our loved ones safe, while also staying sane? What should we do when someone in our house develops a cough?

During the plague, this sort of paranoia also abounded. Pepys found that when he left London and entered other towns, the townspeople became visibly nervous about visitors.

“They are afeared of us that come to them,” he wrote in mid-July, “insomuch that I am troubled at it.”

Pepys succumbed to paranoia himself: In late July, his servant Will suddenly developed a headache. Fearing that his entire house would be shut up if a servant came down with the plague, Pepys mobilized all his other servants to get Will out of the house as quickly as possible. It turned out that Will didn’t have the plague, and he returned the next day.

In early September, Pepys refrained from wearing a wig he bought in an area of London that was a hotspot of the disease, and he wondered whether other people would also fear wearing wigs because they could potentially be made of the hair of plague victims.

And yet he was willing to risk his health to meet certain needs; by early October, he visited his mistress without any regard for the danger. “Round about and next door on every side is the plague, but I did not value it but there did what I could con ella.”

Just as people around the world eagerly wait for a falling death toll as a sign of the pandemic letting up, so did Pepys derive hope—and perhaps the impetus to see his mistress—from the first decline in deaths in mid-September. A week later, he noted a substantial decline of more than 1,800.

Let’s hope that, like Pepys, we’ll soon see some light at the end of the tunnel.

[webart-studio]

This Most cancers Researcher Is Dedicated to Her Medical Dispensary Sufferers

Whereas Chanda Macias researched new remedies for most cancers she turned fascinated with hashish as a drugs.

March 16, 2019 9 min learn

Opinions expressed by Inexperienced Entrepreneur contributors are their very own.

Chanda L. Macias earned her MBA in provide chain administration and a PhD on most cancers analysis. Whereas researching her thesis she discovered many references to the medicinal worth of hashish, however was annoyed the plant was off limits for legit analysis. Now, as  founder and CEO of Nationwide Holistic Therapeutic Heart in Washington, DC, and CEO of Girls Develop, she applies all of her schooling and expertise to aiding sufferers with medical marijuana.

Macias, who has mentored greater than 1,500 college students at Howard College on careers in STEM, discusses the numerous obstacles she has overcome on her path to success. 

What introduced you into the hashish trade?

My dissertation targeted on most cancers analysis. Throughout my investigations, the hashish plant was a recurring theme for an alternate type of remedy. I investigated the medicinal advantages of the plant, however because it was and nonetheless is a Schedule 1 unlawful substance, analysis choices have been extremely restricted. Furthermore, I used to be a minority, and there’s a disproportion of minorities who’re incarcerated for hashish possession. I didn’t wish to contribute to that statistic being a mom, and first supplier for my household. I continued to review the consequences of the plant on totally different illnesses and illness states, largely by way of worldwide analysis findings. After I earned my MBA in Provide Chain Administration at Rutgers College, I felt ready by way of my scientific expertise and enterprise schooling to work on a marketing strategy. State by state, medical hashish packages began to emerge, and I used to be ready to use — regardless of the results. My choice to use was purely on the truth that I understood how the plant may medicinally assist sufferers, and I may enhance the standard of lifetime of sufferers who have been affected by debilitating well being situations.

Associated: Transfer Apart, CBD: New Information Finds THC Is the Actual Medication in Medical Marijuana

What obstacles and challenges have you ever skilled in working inside this trade? How have you ever overcome these obstacles?

There was so many challenges that I’ve skilled in working inside the trade.

Parenting — As a mom of 4 stunning youngsters ranging in age from 30 to eight years previous, it has been difficult to coach my youngsters on my trade in an age-appropriate means. After I started meting out medical hashish, it was nonetheless unlawful in most states. My older youngsters understood the implications of being within the trade, and have been frightened of the attainable repercussions. Happily, my youngest son didn’t perceive the authorized ramifications of my new profession alternative. Due to this fact, I created an setting that didn’t put him in danger. I banned sure phrases from his vocabulary, together with hashish, marijuana, pre-roll and dispensary. As an alternative, I needed to train him that mommy is a “physician,” which I’m, that I give sufferers “drugs” that makes them really feel higher.  

Provide chain points.

A vertical operation within the marijuana trade is a enterprise enterprise that cultivates, processes and dispenses medical marijuana. Integrating a market with vertical and non- vertical enterprises, comparable to unbiased dispensaries (and not using a cultivation facility), can severely limit your provide chain of medical marijuana.

This was the case after I entered the market. I didn’t have entry to a steady provide chain and I used to be not vertically built-in. I cannot conclusively state that my limitations on acquiring entry to merchandise was resulting from the truth that I used to be considered one of two African American ladies within the nation with a dispensary, or the truth that lower than 26 % of the hashish trade are ladies, regardless of their excessive degree of expertise and schooling which might convey worth to any enterprise enterprise. I can say conclusively that my white male counterparts didn’t face those self same challenges.

Happily for my enterprise, I may attraction to the one African American male cultivator in Washington, DC, with a vertical operation, and procure two strains for the primary three months after opening the doorways of Nationwide Holistic Therapeutic Heart. It was by way of worth created by way of schooling, courses, one-on-one consulting in biomedical analysis platforms, that I used to be in a position to develop my affected person base. When the opposite cultivators realized that potential income stream by way of Nationwide Holistic Therapeutic Heart, they lastly determined to supply me with a provide chain however at a excessive value. In different phrases, the common pound of medical marijuana at the moment value $4,000, and one cultivator agreed to promote us 10 strains at $6,500 per pound — however I had to purchase all 10 strains, thus paying $65,00Zero when my affected person base was beneath 50 individuals.

Associated: We Have a Drawback: The Hashish Business Is Shedding Girls Leaders

As a lady in hashish, do you’re feeling that you’re better off or a drawback (or each) and why?

As ladies, interval, we face each irrespective of the trade. I shall be trustworthy, it has not been a simple path. General this can be a difficult trade. Not solely has it been an enormous danger for me and my household, it has additionally been grueling. When individuals within the trade query me on, “How did you get right here?” I’m bowled over — it isn’t as if I took at shortcut.

Because the second black ladies to open a dispensary — however I consider the primary to open a medical dispensary — you will need to perceive individuals of coloration face challenges our counterparts haven’t confronted. After I enter a room of hashish professionals, persons are taken again by my skilled and educated background. My data and research have been questioned due to my gender and race. There are occasions when these interactions have been extremely hurtful. For some they might not perceive however ladies and particularly ladies of coloration are sometimes anticipated to underachieve. I’ve skilled reactions when individuals felt I mustn’t have entry to assets which have led to the success of my firm, however myself and my workforce work rattling laborious. We now have sacrificed like everybody else. That is when I’m most grateful for my schooling.

I’ll not be capable of throw cash at an issue like I’ve seen in different circumstances, however I understand how to resolve an issue successfully and effectively. I’ve confidence in my ability units and I respect the journey that introduced me up to now. It actually has ready me. With all of my schooling, I’m additionally a spouse and a mom of 4 youngsters. I perceive the causation of an issue, and may allocate the suitable funding to handle these measures. I consider in natural progress and the power to grasp my errors on a smaller scale. This has allowed me to not repeat the identical errors on a possible bigger scale with detrimental penalties to my enterprise. The hashish enterprise isn’t concerning the race, however the marathon.

  Ought to laws be in place, in fall 2020 I hope to open a leisure dispensary in Washington, D.C. We now have a terrific workforce who has been on this journey with me and I couldn’t be extra excited.

What accomplishment are most pleased with on this trade?

I’m most proud that God have me the schooling and expertise to avoid wasting my sufferers lives. I’m a biomedical researcher, and I vowed to grasp illnesses and discover methods to forestall, deal with and treatment. Academia isn’t a financially rewarding setting, however as an alternative it propels you to naturally nurture your interior ambition. Standard healthcare has failed our sufferers. It really propelled the opioid epidemic in our nation. Nationwide Holistic Therapeutic Heart (NHHC) has carried out a hashish substitute remedy plan to handle the opioid disaster, and our sufferers are reclaiming their lives. We now have created a means to supply medical help to moms who deal with their youngsters with medical hashish. Our heart will information grownup youngsters by way of remedy choices for his or her dad and mom who’re impacted by a number of illnesses and illness states. We now have the power to deal with veterans with PTSD with suicidal tendencies, to rebuild their basis. To assist individuals and supply options to their ache is an especially proud feeling. These are actual individuals with actual tales who felt ignored as a result of their wants weren’t being addressed. I’m most proud and grateful to have the ability to function many as we’ve since opening our doorways.

What was your best lesson realized?

The best lesson realized is that folks discover medical hashish as a final possibility, and never a main one. Sadly, I sometimes see sufferers once they have explored all different medical remedies, and there’s no different possibility accessible. It is a robust lesson as properly, let me clarify. As soon as my sufferers have began remedy with medical hashish, and skilled first-hand the medicinal advantages of the plant, they’re dumbfounded by their improved high quality of life.

Then I expertise the affected person regret; the sufferers are generally offended/unhappy that they didn’t train the choice to make use of medical hashish earlier of their remedy. The actual fact we’re in a position to present some with consolation even when they’ve come to us very late of their stage additionally it is robust to witness. We wish to present the help however it’s as much as the affected person to be open to the choice. I’ve misplaced probably the most stunning spirits, however I do know that medical hashish gave them consolation and happiness of their closing days. For those who’ve been in a position to lengthen their life span by way of this drugs, it has been great to see them convert into advocates as a result of they’re dwelling testimonies of the advantages.

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source https://webart-studio.com/this-most-cancers-researcher-is-dedicated-to-her-medical-dispensary-sufferers/

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Addiction Confusion

Addiction Confusion? What is this term used for? Doctors, patients, and the “theory” of addiction versus clinical long term needs.

Go to any emergency room, internal medicine doctor, or well earning pain clinic and the dilemma begins.

If one has chronic pain (surgery is ruled inoperable) and cannot do anything to ease mind and body pain, such that causes delirium and or seizures (without intervention of narcotics appropriate for the body chemistry) and is refused out of fear of addiction, then a life is slipping away and it is about to be lost.

There is a lot of difference between psychological,physical and the dual diagnosis spectrum called “opiate  dependency.”

The difference? Recreational highs versus medical need (due to m.s, nerve damages, or any inoperable disease not eased by conventional surgical and or generalized medical practices) .

I have spent fifteen years suffering from chronic pain (so exacerbating that I’d pass out, blank out, go into shock, or have violent seizures). Every doctor has his/her way of responding.

“I cannot help you.”

“The FDA Prohibits Us To Prescribe Class 4 Drugs.”

“You have to be on the medicine already in order for us to continue the therapeutic administration of a narcotic drug.”

“We are not licensed to handle such a severe case such as your own.”

   Some doctors can make exemptions to such answers and or practicing rules. 

     They listen to what you have tried (as far as in the years you have tried different treatment approaches and what portions had helped) and try a similar medical drug/non chemical approach that you haven’t tried. Then if their suggestion doesn’t work, they shall put you back on a medicine that you have documented proof of the theraputic value it had on your pain levels.

  I am not stating that one should go in and request a drug for addiction and or inappropriate drug seeking natures, nut, I am advocating for the 10% of us who are denied treatments that have helped, placed in chemical dependancy wards for inappropriate funds that some clinics wish to earn, and blind sided placement on substitutes like “Subutex” (which some of us like me just have too many side effects on).

“Opiate dependency” is classified as such: The body’s adjustment and chemical markup adapted to develop a need for the presence of such opiates or shut down without it.

       Such does not define psychological or “forced chemical compliance” for treatment programs.

    I have gone to doctors who have started the right treatment, however due to wanting lost co-payments or lack of proper insurance coverage, they threw me out of their office. Unethically without the legal protocols taken. A 3 month supply of the needed treatment drug scripted regimens and a referral to a more able physician who can be covered on what insurance or funds you do have. (In order to avoid medical liability or damages caused by sudden dismissal of care and the lack of the treatment chemicals that prevented more complications of an illness).

I’ve even been placed on psychiatric wards even though I had went into the Emergency room of some hospitals, delirious from pain and mistaken for being quote, “Psychotic.” Only to rack up a bill, go broke, gain bad credit, and fight another misdiagnosis and making up for lost time.(Job punch-clock hours and life time needs and or goals lost due to time spent in the wards).

This is about the “one style or way of practitioner care fits all type of rational” (among psychological,addiction,and pain management consultants.

   I believe, my opinion, is such that each patient has their own unique chemical and organic metabolic make up in their bodies and using a “overgeneralized” treatment protocol can damage those small percentage, like myself, and cause further dysfunction or loss of enjoyment in life. even cause more medical problems including becoming even more crippled when one can walk if the pain were alleviated..

   I believe that a doctor needs to go by written medical chart or records, investigate (with the aid of the patient and medical records) what had worked and what had not, and then decide if “withdrawal off the needed medical medicines that were actually working for one should be taken away due to the addicted majority).

  The government is too “gunge-ho” on rushing to end the drug addiction/dealing epidemic. So they push unethical rushed means on practitioners and patients (via the fda bills crazily passed in haste or the Obama administration causing conflict over forcing companies to provide insurance and then take such harsh actions against a patient and deny help when needed).

The United States does have a drug problem. However, I have never (in my situation) sought recreational value from drugs that “alter the feelings in the brain” and hence, I have an inoperable disease due to chronic nerve damage (m.s and car accidents) and my body is exhausted from all the pain and physician “ping pong” referrals and writing or lack of writing prescriptions and blinding my enjoyment and function in life.

    I’ve seen such in others, in my situation as well. One “size fits all” rules and protocols of drug interactions and safety vary from client to client.

     Congress and the Trump administration should now be able to question this, remedy the way insurances define what illness gets treated how, and work with making laws that tailor to individual needs. As long as they don’t overwhelm the financial needs of our community and harness more problems in the community.

    Medical care is a delicate process, therefore, let’s create a physician/medical system that works on such as where the patients needs are met and the doctor is left with no legal ties, liability, or clinical dilemmas of ethical boundary abuse.

[kristablogs]

This 17th-century plague diary hits a little too close to home

Diaries can be an important time capsule to disease-fighting practices. (Kvkrillow/Deposit Photos/)

Ute Lotz-Heumann is an associate professor and director of the Division for Late Medieval and Reformation Studies at the University of Arizona. This story originally featured on The Conversation.

In early April, writer Jen Miller urged New York Times readers to start a coronavirus diary.

“Who knows,” she wrote, “maybe one day your diary will provide a valuable window into this period.”

During a different pandemic, one 17th-century British naval administrator named Samuel Pepys did just that. He fastidiously kept a diary from 1660 to 1669—a period of time that included a severe outbreak of the bubonic plague in London. Epidemics have always haunted humans, but rarely do we get such a detailed glimpse into one person’s life during a crisis from so long ago.

There were no Zoom meetings, drive-through testing, or ventilators in 17th-century London. But Pepys’ diary reveals that there were some striking resemblances in how people responded to the pandemic.

A creeping sense of crisis

For Pepys and the inhabitants of London, there was no way of knowing whether an outbreak of the plague that occurred in the parish of St. Giles, a poor area outside the city walls, in late 1664 and early 1665 would become an epidemic.

The plague first entered Pepys’ consciousness enough to warrant a diary entry on April 30, 1665: “Great fears of the Sickenesse here in the City,” he wrote, “it being said that two or three houses are already shut up. God preserve us all.”

Portrait of Samuel Pepys by John Hayls (1666). (National Portrait Gallery/)

Pepys continued to live his life normally until the beginning of June, when, for the first time, he saw houses “shut up”—the term his contemporaries used for quarantine—with his own eyes, “marked with a red cross upon the doors, and ‘Lord have mercy upon us’ writ there.” After this, Pepys became increasingly troubled by the outbreak.

He soon observed corpses being taken to their burial in the streets, and a number of his acquaintances died, including his own physician.

By mid-August, he had drawn up his will, writing, “that I shall be in much better state of soul, I hope, if it should please the Lord to call me away this sickly time.” Later that month, he wrote of deserted streets; the pedestrians he encountered were “walking like people that had taken leave of the world.”

Tracking mortality counts

In London, the Company of Parish Clerks printed “bills of mortality,” the weekly tallies of burials.

Because these lists noted London’s burials—not deaths—they undoubtedly undercounted the dead. Just as we follow these numbers closely today, Pepys documented the growing number of plague victims in his diary.

At the end of August, he cited the bill of mortality as having recorded 6,102 victims of the plague, but feared “that the true number of the dead this week is near 10,000,” mostly because the victims among the urban poor weren’t counted. A week later, he noted the official number of 6,978 in one week, “a most dreadfull Number.”

By mid-September, all attempts to control the plague were failing. Quarantines were not being enforced, and people gathered in places like the Royal Exchange. Social distancing, in short, was not happening.

He was equally alarmed by people attending funerals in spite of official orders. Although plague victims were supposed to be interred at night, this system broke down as well, and Pepys griped that burials were taking place “in broad daylight.”

Desperate for remedies

There are few known effective treatment options for COVID-19. Medical and scientific research need time, but people hit hard by the virus are willing to try anything. Fraudulent treatments, from teas and colloidal silver, to cognac and cow urine, have been floated.

Although Pepys lived during the Scientific Revolution, nobody in the 17th century knew that the Yersinia pestis bacterium carried by fleas caused the plague. Instead, the era’s scientists theorized that the plague was spreading through miasma, or “bad air” created by rotting organic matter and identifiable by its foul smell. Some of the most popular measures to combat the plague involved purifying the air by smoking tobacco or by holding herbs and spices in front of one’s nose.

Tobacco was the first remedy that Pepys sought during the plague outbreak. In early June, seeing shut-up houses “put me into an ill conception of myself and my smell, so that I was forced to buy some roll-tobacco to smell … and chaw.” Later, in July, a noble patroness gave him “a bottle of plague-water”—a medicine made from various herbs. But he wasn’t sure whether any of this was effective. Having participated in a coffeehouse discussion about “the plague growing upon us in this town and remedies against it,” he could only conclude that “some saying one thing, some another.”

A 1666 engraving by John Dunstall depicts deaths and burials in London during the bubonic plague. (Museum of London/)

During the outbreak, Pepys was also very concerned with his frame of mind; he constantly mentioned that he was trying to be in good spirits. This was not only an attempt to “not let it get to him”—as we might say today—but also informed by the medical theory of the era, which claimed that an imbalance of the so-called humors in the body—blood, black bile, yellow bile and phlegm—led to disease.

Melancholy, which, according to doctors, resulted from an excess of black bile, could be dangerous to one’s health, so Pepys sought to suppress negative emotions; on Sept. 14, for example, he wrote that hearing about dead friends and acquaintances “doth put me into great apprehensions of melancholy. … But I put off the thoughts of sadness as much as I can.”

Balancing paranoia and risk

Humans are social animals and thrive on interaction, so it’s no surprise that so many have found social distancing during the coronavirus pandemic challenging. It can require constant risk assessment: How close is too close? How can we avoid infection and keep our loved ones safe, while also staying sane? What should we do when someone in our house develops a cough?

During the plague, this sort of paranoia also abounded. Pepys found that when he left London and entered other towns, the townspeople became visibly nervous about visitors.

“They are afeared of us that come to them,” he wrote in mid-July, “insomuch that I am troubled at it.”

Pepys succumbed to paranoia himself: In late July, his servant Will suddenly developed a headache. Fearing that his entire house would be shut up if a servant came down with the plague, Pepys mobilized all his other servants to get Will out of the house as quickly as possible. It turned out that Will didn’t have the plague, and he returned the next day.

In early September, Pepys refrained from wearing a wig he bought in an area of London that was a hotspot of the disease, and he wondered whether other people would also fear wearing wigs because they could potentially be made of the hair of plague victims.

And yet he was willing to risk his health to meet certain needs; by early October, he visited his mistress without any regard for the danger. “Round about and next door on every side is the plague, but I did not value it but there did what I could con ella.”

Just as people around the world eagerly wait for a falling death toll as a sign of the pandemic letting up, so did Pepys derive hope—and perhaps the impetus to see his mistress—from the first decline in deaths in mid-September. A week later, he noted a substantial decline of more than 1,800.

Let’s hope that, like Pepys, we’ll soon see some light at the end of the tunnel.