The symptoms were severe and alarming, but the fatalities were few, perhaps not more than one in fifty attacks. The proper dysenteric symptoms usually lasted from ten to fourteen days, and were followed by diarrhoea, it might be, for many weeks. The morbid anatomy showed in the mucous membrane of the great intestine the three degrees of congestion, follicular ulceration and sloughing of the whole mucous coat (in the sigmoid flexure and rectum). The cases were nearly all above the age of puberty, and among the poorer classes. September and October were the worst months. The weather was remarkably close, damp and relaxing. One practitioner saw two cases of genuine ague in natives of Glasgow, having never seen a case of ague before. The ordinary cholera nostras of summer and autumn was much less frequent than for several years before, and it was the general remark that it had given place to the dysentery.
The symptoms were severe and alarming, but the fatalities were few, perhaps not more than one in fifty attacks. The proper dysenteric symptoms usually lasted from ten to fourteen days, and were followed by diarrhoea, it might be, for many weeks. The morbid anatomy showed in the mucous membrane of the great intestine the three degrees of congestion, follicular ulceration and sloughing of the whole mucous coat (in the sigmoid flexure and rectum). The cases were nearly all above the age of puberty, and among the poorer classes. September and October were the worst months. The weather was remarkably close, damp and relaxing. One practitioner saw two cases of genuine ague in natives of Glasgow, having never seen a case of ague before. The ordinary cholera nostras of summer and autumn was much less frequent than for several years before, and it was the general remark that it had given place to the dysentery.
Having declined in the winter of 1827-28, it revived in May, and again reached a great height in the autumn of 1828, while cases of it (probably chronic, or renewals of old attacks) continued to the summer of 1830. The following table shows the number of cases treated by the poor’s surgeons in the several seasons, 1827-30; the 435 cases in the autumn of 1827 were nearly a third part of all the cases so treated (1462):
Cases of Dysentery in Glasgow treated by the Surgeons to the Poor.
It extended to the villages and country districts all round Glasgow. It was believed to be somewhat general in Scotland in 1827-28, but the only answers to a circular of queries sent out by the editors of the ‘Glasgow Medical Journal’ came fromHamilton (and Bothwell), Ayr and Callander (including the flooded valley of the Teith and the Braes of Balquhiddar)[1460].
In Edinburgh the outbreak of dysentery began about the end of July, 1828, a year later than in Glasgow, just as the epidemic in that city was a year or more later than in Dublin. Attacks of it were numerous among the patients admitted to the Edinburgh Infirmary for other diseases; but it occurred at the same time throughout the city generally and in the country around; “nor has it been confined entirely to the lower orders.” In the imperfectly kept register of the Infirmary there were 42 admissions, with 11 deaths, from August to October. Christison, who treated some of these, had never seen dysentery before[1461]. The morbid anatomy was the same as at Glasgow—congestions, numerous small ulcerations especially of the transverse colon, or sloughing of considerable portions of the mucous membrane.
In the same years 1827-28 there was much dysentery in the Lunatic Asylum at Wakefield. It is well known that aged paupers in workhouses or asylums are peculiarly subject to the epidemic influences that produce diarrhoeal or choleraic sickness; and there had been much of that disease in the West Riding Asylum from its opening in 1819. Some cases of dysentery had also occurred, but it was not until after the exceptional summer of 1826 that they became common. In 1828 there were 55 cases among 375 inmates, mostly in old and incurable lunatics, the fatalities being at the very high rate of one in four. The morbid anatomy was that of true dysentery—follicular ulceration in the transverse colon, with occasional sloughing of large pieces of the mucous membrane. The whole sewage of the asylum collected in cesspools or “tanks of ordure” within a few feet of the wards[1462].
In the same years 1827-28 there was much dysentery in the Lunatic Asylum at Wakefield. It is well known that aged paupers in workhouses or asylums are peculiarly subject to the epidemic influences that produce diarrhoeal or choleraic sickness; and there had been much of that disease in the West Riding Asylum from its opening in 1819. Some cases of dysentery had also occurred, but it was not until after the exceptional summer of 1826 that they became common. In 1828 there were 55 cases among 375 inmates, mostly in old and incurable lunatics, the fatalities being at the very high rate of one in four. The morbid anatomy was that of true dysentery—follicular ulceration in the transverse colon, with occasional sloughing of large pieces of the mucous membrane. The whole sewage of the asylum collected in cesspools or “tanks of ordure” within a few feet of the wards[1462].
The causes of the rare and surprising outbreak of dysentery in 1827-28 were much debated. In Glasgow it was remarked that the choleraic complaints of the summer and autumn were much less frequent than usual; also that the first season of it, the year 1827, was remarkable for rain every day for some months, and for a close, oppressive, relaxing atmosphere. Brown, of Glasgow, thought the weather might account for it, the labouring class being thereby made peculiarly subject to heats and chills, which, grafted upon the usual bowel-complaints of the season, easilyturned them to dysentery. Dr Andrew Buchanan was of opinion that exhalations from the soil were the chief, if not the sole, exciting cause of dysentery, reserving the question of contagiousness. Other forms of miasmatic febrile disease, formerly rare, had, he said, made their appearance of late years and become epidemic. Christison had already spoken in the same sense for the Edinburgh outbreak. For five or six weeks, he said, before the dysentery appeared there in the end of July, 1828, the tendency to bowel affections during the epidemic fever (which was chiefly of the relapsing type) was increased in a very marked degree. The same tendency continued throughout the whole progress of the dysentery; “nay in some instances true acute dysentery was formed during the height or towards the termination of continued fever; and now that the dysentery has in great measure disappeared, or assumed a mild form, the tendency of low gastro-enteric inflammation to accompany continued fever is very strongly marked, perhaps is more frequent than ever.” This may relate to a remarkable outbreak of fever among the richer classes in the New Town of Edinburgh, more talked about than written on, which seems to have been enteric or typhoid, according to the clinical history of a case of it that came from Edinburgh to Hamilton and was recorded by a physician of the latter place[1463]. It was more especially that strange epidemic in Edinburgh that Dr Andrew Buchanan had in mind when he wrote that the dysentery of 1827-28 was not the only disease due to exhalations from the soil with which Scotland had of late been visited[1464]. This is an instructive line to take in seekingan explanation of the dysentery of 1827-28, even if we keep something of the old doctrine of heats and chills as affecting those who labour in a damp atmosphere. The ground-water theory of miasmatic infective diseases was not then formulated; but there has rarely been in our latitudes so signal an instance of extreme drought and heat followed by excessive dampness as in the two years 1825 and 1826, and the year 1827. The second dry year, 1826, was certainly the season when enteric fever was described and figured for the first time in London. It was said, also, that enteric cases occurred among the relapsing fever and dysentery of Dublin in the same year; and enteric cases are known to have occurred in Edinburgh towards the end of the epidemic of relapsing fever and dysentery, which was one or two years later in that city than in Dublin. In Glasgow, where the dysentery was probably a more extensive outbreak than elsewhere, there appears to have been at that time no enteric fever; in London, on the other hand, where there was a good deal of the latter, there does not appear to have been any notable prevalence of dysentery.
Along with the cholera nostras which was unusually common in the autumn of 1831, just before the outbreak of Asiatic cholera, there was some dysentery, notably an epidemic at Bolton[1465]. At the end of the Asiatic cholera of 1832 a succession of cases of dysentery occurred in the Edinburgh Charity Workhouse[1466].
The next occasion of dysentery was the autumn of 1836, which was, like that of 1827, a wet season. The outbreak at Glasgow on this occasion is recorded only in a few figures (the medical journal of the city having ceased to appear for a time), according to which there were 144 cases throughout the year treated by the surgeons to the poor, of which 8 were fatal, and 15 cases sent to the Infirmary, of which 4 were fatal[1467]. At Dundee also, from October to December, 1836, bowel-complaints were not unusual among the cases of typhus, which occurred in hundreds. “Many of the cases of diarrhoea and dysentery,”said Arrott, “occurred in December, and were accompanied by catarrhal and rheumatic symptoms, implying an origin distinct from the bilious diarrhoea and bilious vomiting of summer.” Of 22 cases of dysentery at the Infirmary, 2 were fatal[1468].
Next year, 1837, there occurred in Somersetshire a remarkable epidemic which was for the most part dysenteric. It was seen first at Bridgewater, and in July it caused two deaths at Taunton, where it afterwards prevailed with high malignancy. Of 223 deaths, 206 were set down to dysentery, 16 to diarrhoea and 1 to cholera; the high ratio of children’s deaths in the following table of ages is in accordance with other recent experiences to be given in the sequel:
The monthly mortalities were, 75 in August, 105 in September, 29 in October, 10 in November, 2 in December. The epidemic spread partially amongst the unions around Taunton[1469].
In London from the beginning of registration (1837) until 1846, the deaths set down to dysentery averaged fully a hundred in the year—a statistical fact to which there is nothing corresponding in contemporary writings: Watson said it was hardly ever seen in practice except in the chronic form among sailors and soldiers who had contracted it abroad. During the prevalence of the “Irish fever” of 1846-48, the disease was truly epidemic and a cause of many deaths along with typhus itself, especially in Liverpool and mostly among destitute Irish. In 1846 it was in Milbank Penitentiary[1470]. A most instructive instance of its connexion with the Irish emigration occurred at Penzance in the summer and autumn of 1848.
The brig ‘Sandwich’ sailed from Cork for Boston, U. S., in the end of May, carrying a number of Irish farmers and their families. Having met with rough weather and head winds she put in leaky to Penzance on 7 June, sixteen days out from Cork. The provisions had been bad and there was sickness in the ship, with a very filthy state of things. Three of the women passengers died on shore of dysentery. The ship sailed again on 10 July, two more of the emigrants dying of dysentery before she reached Boston, while two of the crew survived the attack. On 16 July, two cases of the same disease occurred among the lower class in Penzance, and thereafter the epidemic spread widely through most parts of the town and the three adjoining parishes of Madron, Galval and Paul, causing a great mortality, as in the following table:Deaths from Dysentery in Penzance and three adjoining parishes.1848.Deaths fromDysentery inPenzance townDeaths fromDysentery in3 other parishesTotal deathsfrom DysenteryDeaths fromall causes inPenzance and3 other parishesJuly50531August3713871Sept.26123867Oct.1392248Nov.112318223105248As many as five hundred cases were under medical treatment in the town. No death occurred there or in the three parishes within the registration district after 10 November, “but very many in the country beyond its limits.” Of the 105 deaths in the table, 46 were of young children, 35 of aged persons, and 24 between the ages of five and sixty years[1471]. There was no resisting the evidence that an infection had been introduced by the weather-bound Irish emigrants; instances were also known of new foci in the country districts having been created by domestics or others suffering from dysentery who had been sent from Penzance to their homes. At the same time the summer had been exceptionally wet, the rainfall having been as follows:Inches of rainMay0·777June3·287July3·277Aug.4·972Sept.3·042Oct.4·425Nov.3·981A singular epidemic of dysentery occurred between the 14th and 26th September, 1853, among the thirty-six inmates of a row of nine cottages near the village of Hermiston, five miles west of Edinburgh. Seven children were attacked, of whom six died, and six adults, who all recovered. Besides these there were three cases among the four inmates of a cottage about a hundred yards away, and one case in each of two houses in the adjacent village of Hermiston. Christison found that a drain which received the sewage or slops of the hamlet was in a most offensive state, having been choked probably for years, and that the water of a well near it was foetid. These are the conditions that have often caused village epidemics of enteric fever in recent times; but there was no doubt that the disease in this case was dysentery[1472]. Another asylum outbreak of dysentery occurred in 1865 in the Cumberland and Westmoreland Asylum[1473].
The brig ‘Sandwich’ sailed from Cork for Boston, U. S., in the end of May, carrying a number of Irish farmers and their families. Having met with rough weather and head winds she put in leaky to Penzance on 7 June, sixteen days out from Cork. The provisions had been bad and there was sickness in the ship, with a very filthy state of things. Three of the women passengers died on shore of dysentery. The ship sailed again on 10 July, two more of the emigrants dying of dysentery before she reached Boston, while two of the crew survived the attack. On 16 July, two cases of the same disease occurred among the lower class in Penzance, and thereafter the epidemic spread widely through most parts of the town and the three adjoining parishes of Madron, Galval and Paul, causing a great mortality, as in the following table:
Deaths from Dysentery in Penzance and three adjoining parishes.
1848.
As many as five hundred cases were under medical treatment in the town. No death occurred there or in the three parishes within the registration district after 10 November, “but very many in the country beyond its limits.” Of the 105 deaths in the table, 46 were of young children, 35 of aged persons, and 24 between the ages of five and sixty years[1471]. There was no resisting the evidence that an infection had been introduced by the weather-bound Irish emigrants; instances were also known of new foci in the country districts having been created by domestics or others suffering from dysentery who had been sent from Penzance to their homes. At the same time the summer had been exceptionally wet, the rainfall having been as follows:
A singular epidemic of dysentery occurred between the 14th and 26th September, 1853, among the thirty-six inmates of a row of nine cottages near the village of Hermiston, five miles west of Edinburgh. Seven children were attacked, of whom six died, and six adults, who all recovered. Besides these there were three cases among the four inmates of a cottage about a hundred yards away, and one case in each of two houses in the adjacent village of Hermiston. Christison found that a drain which received the sewage or slops of the hamlet was in a most offensive state, having been choked probably for years, and that the water of a well near it was foetid. These are the conditions that have often caused village epidemics of enteric fever in recent times; but there was no doubt that the disease in this case was dysentery[1472]. Another asylum outbreak of dysentery occurred in 1865 in the Cumberland and Westmoreland Asylum[1473].
Perhaps the last general prevalence of dysentery was during the Asiatic cholera of 1849, when the house-to-house visitations in Leeds and some other towns brought to light a somewhat surprising number of cases mixed with the more ordinary bowel-complaints of the season.
It is impossible to trace the subsequent history of dysentery in England by the usual statistical means of the Registrar-General’s tables of the causes of death, for the reason that dysentery, a rare and curious disease of all ages in this country, is merged with diarrhoea, one of the commonest causes of infantile mortality. However, it is not likely that any such epidemic outbursts, local or general, as those described for certain years of the 18th and 19th centuries could have occurred without their being otherwise known. It may be safely said that there has been little of it in this country for the last thirty or forty years, except among a few soldiers, sailors or others returned from abroad; in Ireland itself, the immemorial “country disease” has now only a small annual total of deaths.
One of the last experiences of dysentery in an English port was instructive for the relation of the disease to typhus fever.
On 16 February, 1861, an Egyptian frigate, the ‘Scheah Gehaed,’ sent from Alexandria to be fitted with new engines, arrived in the Mersey. The only European on the ship was her commander, an Austrian. She carried 476 men, mostly Arabs, with a small proportion of Nubians and Abyssinians. Some two hundred were convicts, who had been brought on board in chained gangs. The passage had been long and stormy, and attended with much sickness, dysenteric and diarrhoeal; one man died and was thrown overboard two or three days before the ship reached Liverpool. The pilot who boarded her was at once struck by the horrible state of filth of the ’tween decks; he remained two days on board, and on returning home said to his wife, “This frigate will be heard of yet.” He sickened in about a week of malignant typhus and died. Two others who boarded the ship took typhus, of whom one recovered. There had been no fever on board during the voyage. Thirty-two of the Arabs or Nubians were admitted to the Southern Hospital suffering, most of them, from dysentery or diarrhoea. Typhus fever attacked 17 of the ordinary patients, 2 nurses, 2 porters, 2 house-surgeons and 2 others in the hospital, of whom several died. The Arabs &c. to the number of 340 were taken in batches of 80 a day to a public bath, in which they remained three hours. Typhus broke out among the bath attendants. The whole number of cases of typhus traced to the ship was 31, of which 8 were fatal. The ship was sunk in the graving dock in order to clean her[1474].
On 16 February, 1861, an Egyptian frigate, the ‘Scheah Gehaed,’ sent from Alexandria to be fitted with new engines, arrived in the Mersey. The only European on the ship was her commander, an Austrian. She carried 476 men, mostly Arabs, with a small proportion of Nubians and Abyssinians. Some two hundred were convicts, who had been brought on board in chained gangs. The passage had been long and stormy, and attended with much sickness, dysenteric and diarrhoeal; one man died and was thrown overboard two or three days before the ship reached Liverpool. The pilot who boarded her was at once struck by the horrible state of filth of the ’tween decks; he remained two days on board, and on returning home said to his wife, “This frigate will be heard of yet.” He sickened in about a week of malignant typhus and died. Two others who boarded the ship took typhus, of whom one recovered. There had been no fever on board during the voyage. Thirty-two of the Arabs or Nubians were admitted to the Southern Hospital suffering, most of them, from dysentery or diarrhoea. Typhus fever attacked 17 of the ordinary patients, 2 nurses, 2 porters, 2 house-surgeons and 2 others in the hospital, of whom several died. The Arabs &c. to the number of 340 were taken in batches of 80 a day to a public bath, in which they remained three hours. Typhus broke out among the bath attendants. The whole number of cases of typhus traced to the ship was 31, of which 8 were fatal. The ship was sunk in the graving dock in order to clean her[1474].
This is a classical instance of the breeding of typhus from the effluvia of dysentery, of which other instances, on a greater scale, have been given in connexion with the Jamaica expedition of 1655 (in the former volume), the siege of Londonderry and the camp of Dundalk in 1689, the hospitals after the battle of Dettingen in 1743, and the Irish famine of 1846-48.
ASIATIC CHOLERA.
The Indian or Asiatic cholera, which first showed itself on British soil in one or more houses on the Quay of Sunderland in the month of October, 1831, was a “new disease” in a more real sense than anything in this country since the sweating sickness of 1485. The English profession had been hearing a good deal about it for some years before it reached our shores. The outbreak in Lower Bengal in 1817, from which the modern history of cholera dates, had been the subject of reports and essays by Anglo-Indian physicians and surgeons; an extensive prevalence of it in the Madras Presidency shortly after, as well as in Mauritius in 1819 and 1829, had been observed by other medical men in the service of the East India Company or of the British army or navy. Many who had seen cholera in India, and some who had written upon it, returned to England in due course, so that the formidable new pestilence of the East began to be heard of in medical circles at home. Various essays upon it issued from the English press between 1821 and 1830[1475]; and in 1825 it appeared for the first time, and at considerable length, in the pages of an English systematic treatise, the new edition of Dr Mason Good’s ‘Study of Medicine.’
Previous to 1829, Asiatic cholera had obtained no footing in Europe. The first great movement westwards from Indiathrough Central Asia, which was continuous with the memorable eruption in Bengal after the rains of 1817, had reached to Astrakhan, at the mouths of the Volga, and had there caused the deaths of some 144 persons in September, 1823. Another progress westwards from India, after an interval of six years, reached the soil of European Russia in the Government of Orenburg in August 1829, the mortality in the whole province during the autumn and winter (to February, 1830) amounting to about one thousand. A much more severe epidemic of it arose in the summer of 1830 in the town and province of Astrakhan (supposed to have been introduced by an infected brig from Baku), which spread with enormous rapidity, destroying in the course of a month some four thousand in Astrakhan itself and upwards of twenty thousand in other parts of the province[1476]. Thus established in the basin of the Volga, Asiatic cholera overran the whole of Russia. Before the spring of 1831 it had entered Hungary and Poland, and in the end of May had reached Danzig and other German ports on the Baltic and North Seas. Lord Heytesbury, the British Ambassador at St Petersburg, had sent home a despatch upon it early in 1831; in April, the Admiralty issued orders for a strict quarantine of all arrivals from Russia at British ports, which were afterwards extended to arrivals from all ports abroad invaded or threatened by cholera. On 20 June a royal proclamation ordering various precautions was issued, and next day a Board of Health was gazetted, composed of leading physicians in London and of the medical heads of departments, with Sir Henry Halford as president. Local Boards of Health were formed voluntarily in many parts of the country during the summer of 1831. Two medical men were at the same time commissioned by the Government to proceed to Russia to study the disease there, their letters to the Board of Health commencing from the 1st of July. The growing interest in the disease as it came nearer called forth another crop of writings, some of them based on old Indian experience, others speculative[1477]. The most important ofthese was the treatise by Orton, which had been published in its original form at Madras in 1820. Writing from Yorkshire in August, 1831, he surmised (with a proviso that no one could say confidently what might happen) that Asiatic cholera might be expected to be a mild visitation upon Britain at large, falling most upon the large manufacturing towns in which typhus was common, but that it would be “far otherwise” with Ireland owing to its chronic poverty, distress and over-population. By a singular chance the only town which he specially mentioned in England was Sunderland, where, he had been told by Dr Clanny, there had been an unusual number of cases of malignant cholera nostras in the early part of the autumn: “it is greatly to be feared,” he said, “that those are but the skirts of the approaching shower[1478].”
In other places besides Sunderland there had been perhaps more than the usual amount of summer diarrhoea in 1831. Dr Burne, in his London dispensary reports, entered on the 2nd and 16th July an unusual prevalence of “dysenteric diarrhoea and cholera,” and cases of scarlet fever of an “adynamic” type or with a tendency to fatal collapse[1479]. (Clanny observed the same type of scarlatina at Sunderland along with some typhus.) Choleraic disorders were uncommonly rife on board the ships of war in the Medway[1480]. A succession of twenty-four cases at Port Glasgow, from 2 July to 2 August, chiefly among workers in Riga flax, gave rise to an alarm of the real Asiatic cholera, the more readily that the first case was fatal (the only death)[1481]. Similar alarms arose at Leith and Hull.
In the end of July and in August, Sunderland and the adjoining villages and farms in the valley of the Wear were visited with “a very general prevalence of the indigenous cholera of the country, bearing in most instances its usual leading feature—that of excessive bilious discharges[1482].” Few, who were not attacked with actual cholera nostras, were altogether free, it was said, from diarrhoea or disordered digestion. Many of the choleraic cases were unusually malignant, of which the following are instances:
Allison, aged fifty, a painter of earthenware residing in a low situation on the bank of the Wear two miles above the town, was attacked at 4 a.m. on the 5th of August with vomiting and purging of a watery whitish fluid, like oatmeal and water. His hands and feet were cold, his skin covered with clammy sweat, his face livid and the expression anxious, his eyes sunken, his lips blue, thirst excessive, his breath cold, his voice weak and husky, and his pulse almost imperceptible. He passed into a stage of reactive fever and got well. Arnott, a farm-labourer on the opposite bank of the Wear from the man Allison, was seized at 2 a.m. on the 8th August with precisely the same symptoms, and died in twelve hours. Neither he nor Allison had any intercourse or relation with seamen or the shipping of Sunderland[1483]. Another case on the 8th of August came to light afterwards. A woman in the village of West Bolden, four miles from Sunderland, on the Newcastle road, was found by a surgeon from the town to be suffering from choleraic sickness, of which she died twelve hours from its onset[1484].A week after these cases in the country not far from Sunderland, there occurred the death, on 14 August, of one of the Wear pilots named Henry. He had been troubled with diarrhoea for some time before, but not so as to keep him from his occupation. Having gone down in the direction of Flamborough Head to look for ships, he picked up a vessel between that and the Wear, piloted her in, and, a few days after, piloted her out again. The identity of the vessel was never traced, but it was alleged that she had come from an infected port abroad. The last time Henry was in his boat he was seized with violent vomiting and purging, and died at his house after an illness of twenty hours. A brother pilot, who looked in at the house on the day of his death, fell into a similar choleraic disorder, but recovered[1485]. On the 28th of August a shipwright died of the same; also about the end of August two persons at a distance of four or five miles from Sunderland. In September, it is said, there were other cases and fatalities. Early in October the authentic particulars of cholera in Sunderland begin. Dixon attended one case, which was fatal on the 9th October. Another case, which came to light three months after, was that of a girl of twelve, named Hazard, residing on the Fish Quay, who was well enough on Sunday the 16th October to have been twice at church. She was seized in the middle of the night following with the sudden and appalling symptoms ofcholeraic disease and died on the Monday afternoon[1486]. A few doors off on the same quay lived a keelman named Sproat, aged sixty; he occupied a large, clean, well-ventilated room on the first-floor of a house in the most open part of the quay, opposite to a crowded part of the anchorage. He was in failing health, and had been troubled with diarrhoea for a week or ten days previous to the 19th October, on which day he had to give up work. Next day, Thursday, the 20th, a surgeon who had been sent for found him vomiting and purging, but not at all collapsed, with no thirst, and in good spirits. He improved so much that on Friday he had toasted cheese for supper and on Saturday a mutton chop for dinner, after which he went out to his keel on the river for a few minutes. On his return he was seized with rigor, cramps, vomiting and purging. Medical aid was not sent for until seven on Sunday morning, when he was found in a sinking state, pulseless, speaking in a husky whisper, his face livid and pinched, his limbs cramped, the purgings like “meal washings.” He continued like that for three days, and died on Wednesday, the 26th October, at noon.
Allison, aged fifty, a painter of earthenware residing in a low situation on the bank of the Wear two miles above the town, was attacked at 4 a.m. on the 5th of August with vomiting and purging of a watery whitish fluid, like oatmeal and water. His hands and feet were cold, his skin covered with clammy sweat, his face livid and the expression anxious, his eyes sunken, his lips blue, thirst excessive, his breath cold, his voice weak and husky, and his pulse almost imperceptible. He passed into a stage of reactive fever and got well. Arnott, a farm-labourer on the opposite bank of the Wear from the man Allison, was seized at 2 a.m. on the 8th August with precisely the same symptoms, and died in twelve hours. Neither he nor Allison had any intercourse or relation with seamen or the shipping of Sunderland[1483]. Another case on the 8th of August came to light afterwards. A woman in the village of West Bolden, four miles from Sunderland, on the Newcastle road, was found by a surgeon from the town to be suffering from choleraic sickness, of which she died twelve hours from its onset[1484].
A week after these cases in the country not far from Sunderland, there occurred the death, on 14 August, of one of the Wear pilots named Henry. He had been troubled with diarrhoea for some time before, but not so as to keep him from his occupation. Having gone down in the direction of Flamborough Head to look for ships, he picked up a vessel between that and the Wear, piloted her in, and, a few days after, piloted her out again. The identity of the vessel was never traced, but it was alleged that she had come from an infected port abroad. The last time Henry was in his boat he was seized with violent vomiting and purging, and died at his house after an illness of twenty hours. A brother pilot, who looked in at the house on the day of his death, fell into a similar choleraic disorder, but recovered[1485]. On the 28th of August a shipwright died of the same; also about the end of August two persons at a distance of four or five miles from Sunderland. In September, it is said, there were other cases and fatalities. Early in October the authentic particulars of cholera in Sunderland begin. Dixon attended one case, which was fatal on the 9th October. Another case, which came to light three months after, was that of a girl of twelve, named Hazard, residing on the Fish Quay, who was well enough on Sunday the 16th October to have been twice at church. She was seized in the middle of the night following with the sudden and appalling symptoms ofcholeraic disease and died on the Monday afternoon[1486]. A few doors off on the same quay lived a keelman named Sproat, aged sixty; he occupied a large, clean, well-ventilated room on the first-floor of a house in the most open part of the quay, opposite to a crowded part of the anchorage. He was in failing health, and had been troubled with diarrhoea for a week or ten days previous to the 19th October, on which day he had to give up work. Next day, Thursday, the 20th, a surgeon who had been sent for found him vomiting and purging, but not at all collapsed, with no thirst, and in good spirits. He improved so much that on Friday he had toasted cheese for supper and on Saturday a mutton chop for dinner, after which he went out to his keel on the river for a few minutes. On his return he was seized with rigor, cramps, vomiting and purging. Medical aid was not sent for until seven on Sunday morning, when he was found in a sinking state, pulseless, speaking in a husky whisper, his face livid and pinched, his limbs cramped, the purgings like “meal washings.” He continued like that for three days, and died on Wednesday, the 26th October, at noon.
This came to be reckoned the first death from Asiatic cholera in England.
His grandchild, a girl of eleven, while moving about the room an hour after the death, was suddenly seized with faintness, pains in the stomach-region, vomiting and purging of watery matters; she was taken to the Infirmary and soon got well. The day after his father’s death, Thursday, the 27th October, William Sproat, junior, a fine athletic young keelman, who had attended on his parent during his illness, was found lying in a low damp cellar near to the Fish Quay, suffering from choleraic symptoms; he had been ill only a few hours, and was removed (with his daughter as above) to the Infirmary the same evening. He became gradually worse: on the 30th he was continually throwing himself about, moaning and biting the bedclothes; on the 31st he was lying on his back comatose, his eyes open, the pupils wide and insensible, and the breathing stertorous, in which state he died the same day. An old nurse at the Infirmary (Turnbull) helped to place the body in the coffin, went to bed in a state of considerable fear, and was seized at one in the morning with symptoms of cholera, of which she died after a few hours.Meanwhile there had been two other fatal cases unconnected with the Sproats or the Fish Quay. On the quay of Monk Wearmouth, across the river, lived a shoemaker named Rodenburg, aged thirty-five. He occupied a poor hovel and had a large family, but he was in good work and wages. On Sunday, the 30th October, he had pork for dinner, and what was left of it for supper. In the middle of the night he was seized with vomiting, and with purging of a fluid like water-gruel in vast quantities; when visited by the medical men, he spoke in a husky whisper, his nails were blue, his skin livid, covered by cold sweat, his limbs cramped. The spasms ceased about nine o’clock on Monday morning; about noon he asked to be raised in bed, and died as they were raising him. On the very same night, between Sunday and Monday, a keelman named Wilson, who lived with his wife in a decent room in the High Street, and had attended the Methodist chapel on Sunday, was seized with cholera at 4 a.m. on Monday, and died the same afternoon at three.
His grandchild, a girl of eleven, while moving about the room an hour after the death, was suddenly seized with faintness, pains in the stomach-region, vomiting and purging of watery matters; she was taken to the Infirmary and soon got well. The day after his father’s death, Thursday, the 27th October, William Sproat, junior, a fine athletic young keelman, who had attended on his parent during his illness, was found lying in a low damp cellar near to the Fish Quay, suffering from choleraic symptoms; he had been ill only a few hours, and was removed (with his daughter as above) to the Infirmary the same evening. He became gradually worse: on the 30th he was continually throwing himself about, moaning and biting the bedclothes; on the 31st he was lying on his back comatose, his eyes open, the pupils wide and insensible, and the breathing stertorous, in which state he died the same day. An old nurse at the Infirmary (Turnbull) helped to place the body in the coffin, went to bed in a state of considerable fear, and was seized at one in the morning with symptoms of cholera, of which she died after a few hours.
Meanwhile there had been two other fatal cases unconnected with the Sproats or the Fish Quay. On the quay of Monk Wearmouth, across the river, lived a shoemaker named Rodenburg, aged thirty-five. He occupied a poor hovel and had a large family, but he was in good work and wages. On Sunday, the 30th October, he had pork for dinner, and what was left of it for supper. In the middle of the night he was seized with vomiting, and with purging of a fluid like water-gruel in vast quantities; when visited by the medical men, he spoke in a husky whisper, his nails were blue, his skin livid, covered by cold sweat, his limbs cramped. The spasms ceased about nine o’clock on Monday morning; about noon he asked to be raised in bed, and died as they were raising him. On the very same night, between Sunday and Monday, a keelman named Wilson, who lived with his wife in a decent room in the High Street, and had attended the Methodist chapel on Sunday, was seized with cholera at 4 a.m. on Monday, and died the same afternoon at three.
These six cases within a few days, all fatal but that of the girl of eleven, looked like the real Asiatic disease. Kell, anarmy assistant-surgeon stationed at Sunderland with the reserve companies of the 82nd Regiment, had suspected that the earlier case of the pilot Henry was true Asiatic cholera (which he had seen in Mauritius in 1829), and had written to the Board of Health. At a meeting of the faculty at the Infirmary on the morning after the admission of Sproat junior and his child (28th October), Kell urged upon them that the disease was Asiatic cholera, but all the twelve present, save Dr Clanny, who was in the chair, maintained that it was common indigenous cholera. However, when the younger Sproat died, and the nurse after him, and two others in different parts of the town, a full meeting of medical men at the Exchange came unanimously to the opinion that these were cases of “spasmodic cholera.” A meeting of the Board of Health and leading citizens was at once held, who were informed that, in the unanimous opinion of the medical gentlemen of the town, “spasmodic cholera prevailed in Sunderland.” The authorities in London having been kept informed (principally by Kell), a surgeon of Indian experience was sent down by the Board of Health on the 5th November, and a colonel by the lords of the Council on the 6th, to act as commissioners.
It happened that no more cases occurred for three days after the death of the nurse at the Infirmary; so that the doctors, like Pharaoh in the intervals between the plagues of Egypt, were beginning to repent of their diagnosis. The shipping trade of Sunderland was threatened by these newspaper alarms, and by the presence of two Government commissioners in the town; while Kell was demanding a ship of war off the mouth of the Wear, and a battery on shore, to make the quarantine respected. The Marquis of Londonderry, interested in the coal-trade, wrote to theStandardthat the alarm was false. The magistrates, shipowners and leading residents, who had met on the 9th November to raise money for a cholera hospital, assembled again in various public meetings or caucuses on the 10th and 11th, and passed resolutions that there was no Indian or other foreign imported cholera in Sunderland, that it was a wicked and malicious falsehood to say there was, and that there was no need of quarantine on the Wear. One of these meetings was attended by fifteen medical men (most of them from the residential suburb of Bishop Wearmouth), who severally expressed the opinion in various terms, that the recent fatal cases were aggravated cases of English cholera, not contagious or infectious, while three more sent letters backing up Lord Londonderry and the shipowners. On the 12th of November, twenty-seven medical men signed a declaration to the same effect. Some of these remained unconvinced by the progress of events, Dixon arguing as late as 23 January, 1832, that the epidemic in Sunderland, which was by that time over, had been one of “spontaneous malignant cholera.”
It happened that no more cases occurred for three days after the death of the nurse at the Infirmary; so that the doctors, like Pharaoh in the intervals between the plagues of Egypt, were beginning to repent of their diagnosis. The shipping trade of Sunderland was threatened by these newspaper alarms, and by the presence of two Government commissioners in the town; while Kell was demanding a ship of war off the mouth of the Wear, and a battery on shore, to make the quarantine respected. The Marquis of Londonderry, interested in the coal-trade, wrote to theStandardthat the alarm was false. The magistrates, shipowners and leading residents, who had met on the 9th November to raise money for a cholera hospital, assembled again in various public meetings or caucuses on the 10th and 11th, and passed resolutions that there was no Indian or other foreign imported cholera in Sunderland, that it was a wicked and malicious falsehood to say there was, and that there was no need of quarantine on the Wear. One of these meetings was attended by fifteen medical men (most of them from the residential suburb of Bishop Wearmouth), who severally expressed the opinion in various terms, that the recent fatal cases were aggravated cases of English cholera, not contagious or infectious, while three more sent letters backing up Lord Londonderry and the shipowners. On the 12th of November, twenty-seven medical men signed a declaration to the same effect. Some of these remained unconvinced by the progress of events, Dixon arguing as late as 23 January, 1832, that the epidemic in Sunderland, which was by that time over, had been one of “spontaneous malignant cholera.”
Two new seizures occurred on the 7th November, none on the 8th, seven on the 9th, one on the 10th, and so on for fullysix weeks longer until Christmas, when the cases became very occasional, so that on the 9th of January, 1832, Sunderland was declared by the Board of Health to be free of cholera. The largest number of seizures reported on one day was nineteen on the 8th of December; on the 10th of that month there were sixty-three cases under treatment at once; the whole number of cases from 23rd October to 31st December was 418, of which 202 were fatal; the whole deaths at Sunderland by the cholera of 1831-32 are given at 215, so that the epidemic exhausted itself there before it had well begun elsewhere in the country. The effect of it upon the death-rate is shown in a comparison of the burials for November and December in three successive years[1487]:
Burials in the parish of Sunderland.
The way by which the virus entered Sunderland was never traced. It was known, however, that deaths from cholera had occurred among the crews of Sunderland ships lying at Cronstadt and Riga; and as it was the practice for vessels owned in Sunderland to come home from their summer trading towards the end of the season, so as to lay up during the winter, it was suspected that the clothes of some of the dead men had been brought over and sent ashore. The quarantine in the Wear was far from effective: the station was higher up the river than the loading moorings, so that suspected ships had to pass through a crowd of ordinary shipping to get to it. It appears that hardly any ships were quarantined, except some from Dutch ports where no cholera then existed.
This first experience of Asiatic cholera on British soil brought out very clearly one character of the infection which was seen to attend it everywhere during the following year, and has always attended it in every subsequent invasion of the disease. The virus, for all its opportunities, showed a marked preference for, an almost exclusive selection of the lowest and least cleanly localities, and a considerable preference for personsof drunken or negligent habits. Sunderland consisted of three parts—the parish so named, the parish of Bishop Wearmouth, which was the west end of Sunderland or the residential quarter of the wealthier class, and across the river the parish of Monk Wearmouth, with the adjoining Shore. The cholera was almost wholly confined to Sunderland proper; Ainsworth says that no cases occurred, to his knowledge, in the parish of Bishop Wearmouth, and not above six in Monk Wearmouth; another gave six or eight cases in each of these parishes, but increased the estimate to eighteen or twenty in each according to later information. Bishop Wearmouth stood about seventy feet higher than the highest part of Sunderland; it was well built, and its population of 14,462 (with 363 more in the Pans), included the whole of the wealthier class with the trades dependent on them. Monk Wearmouth, with a population of 1498, and the adjoining Shore with a population of 6051, were irregularly built on the north bank, and occupied by the same class (keelmen, sailors, labourers and workmen in the coal, iron and shipping trades) as Sunderland itself; but for some reason, connected perhaps with its soil and elevation, it escaped with a very few cases of cholera[1488]. The parish of Sunderland, with a population of 18,916, was not all visited equally. The focus of the cholera, says Ainsworth, was the town moor, a large piece of pasture-land stretching to the sea-shore at the south-east end of the town, having a subsoil tenacious of water, marshy in the winter months, and its roads almost impassable. Upon this open space was deposited, and left to accumulate for weeks together, the filth from the narrow lanes and passages of the low-lying and crowded quarter at the seaward end of the parish, to the south of the High Street. Some of the streets occupied by the poorer class consisted of old residences of the well-to-do, now divided into tenements. Certain streets had as many as a dozen or twenty common middens, “let in” to the street fronts of houses and covered by trap-doors, in which the domestic refuse and sweepings of the street were collected as a source of profit, and sold at stated times to farmers for manure. Most of the attacks happened in this low-lying part of Sunderland, with a soil and foundations sodden with filth, houses overcrowded and badly ventilated, and its residents subject to the alternationsof excess and want (with much pawning of clothes, &c.) peculiar to a port from which one or two hundred sail would leave with a fair wind or arrive in the river together[1489]. About four hundred were attacked in a population of eighteen thousand during a space of two months. The cases among the wealthier classes were nearly all in the households of medical men:—the mother of one doctor, living with him, died of Asiatic cholera, the wife of another came safely through an attack, one or more medical men had the symptoms in one degree or another. In the end of November, five old people in the poor’s house were fatally attacked all at once, in different parts of the building. A cholera hospital had been provided at an early stage of the outbreak, but the relatives of those attacked seldom permitted their removal to it, a prejudice against it having been aroused by the post-mortem examination of the first victims. Most of the cases were accordingly treated at their homes, which were “always crowded to excess by the immediate attendants or relatives, and by others from mere curiosity.” A fund of two thousand pounds was raised for the distressed families, to which the Government gave one hundred. Sunderland became for two or three weeks a centre of interest to medical men, who came to see the cholera from various parts of England, Ireland and Scotland, while MM. Magendie and Guillot came from Paris, and M. Dubuc from Rouen.
The symptoms and morbid anatomy of cholera as it was known in India were seen without ambiguity in the Sunderland epidemic. In a few cases death followed very quickly without the distinctive intestinal symptoms; but usually the unmistakeable thing was a sudden seizure, often in the night after a hearty supper, marked by profuse “meal-and-water” or “rice-and-water” purging, by vomiting, faintness or sinking at the pit of the stomach, thirst, pulselessness, cramps of the limbs, restless tossing, coldness, blueness and clamminess of the surface, and shrunken features. Thefacies Hippocraticahad not been seen on so extensive a scale in England since the sweating sickness ofthree hundred years before. The end was sometimes in deep coma, at other times in delirium with convulsive or spasmodic movements. The chief point in the morbid anatomy was the engorgement of the lungs, great veins, and right side of the heart, from which the disease was named “cholera asphyxia.” The blood was thick and tarry[1490].
Before Sunderland had been declared by the Board of Health to be free of cholera, on the 7th of January, 1832, the infection had gained a footing in Newcastle, Gateshead, North Shields, Houghton-le-Spring, and some places on the road to Edinburgh. The mildness of that winter was somewhat favourable to its diffusion; in November there had been some days of severe frost in the midst of generally mild weather, December was warmer than usual, the pastures being green and spring-like, while January was warm and dry almost beyond precedent. The first cases in new centres were usually tramps or others who had come from Sunderland[1491]; but there were some puzzling attacks. Thus Dixon says that on 12th December, 1831, he visited a woman of fifty who died of cholera after twelve hours, “in a lonely district unconnected in situation with any previously infected place,” and where there had been no personal liability to contagion; a young man lodging in the house died three days after with the same symptoms.