“One day in 1665, a tailor’s assistant in the
English village of Eyam received a shipment of cloth from London and hung it
out to dry. Unbeknownst to him, the bale of cloth was home to a colony of fleas
infected with plague. Soon, that man and
one-third of the population of Eyam were dead. The means by which the village
prevented the pestilence from becoming far worse, however, has become a lesson
that resonates particularly today.
“Eyam is a pretty little village of stone cottages
in the Peak District of England’s Derbyshire Dales. Eyam has long attracted
visitors in a kind of ‘dark tourism’ focused on the villagers’ extraordinary
sacrifices to contain the outbreak of disease. Helaine Silverman, a professor
of anthropology, felt
fortunate to be taken to Eyam in 2013 by a British colleague.
She was so struck by Eyam’s story that she immediately incorporated it into her
Archaeology of Death course. She continues to include Eyam on her syllabus. She
said that today, with the outbreak of COVID-19, the moral lessons of that old
English community resonate strongly.
“Although the residents of Eyam didn’t understand
the plague, they knew that it was highly communicable. Eyam’s church rector,
William Momppesom, took it upon himself to convince the panicked villagers to
stay put in order to save the communities around them. Over 14 months the
villagers of Eyam self-quarantined. Nobody entered and nobody left Eyam. By so
doing countless lives were saved. But Eyam paid a terrible price.
“‘Day after
day mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters died. Some families were totally
lost,’ Silverman said. ‘They buried their dead close to their houses rather
than in consecrated ground, and their prayer services were held in the open
where they could stand apart, rather than inside the otherwise crowded
church. They persevered, assisted by the delivery of food to the edge of
the village by charitable neighbors from beyond who appreciated the heroism of
Eyam.’
“In the
face of COVID-19, historians and anthropologists point out that there is much
to be learned from past disease outbreaks. Carol Symes, professor of history and founding executive editor of The Medieval
Globe, pointed out that the word ‘quarantine’ comes from ‘quarentena,’ the
medieval Venetian word referring to the 40-day period of isolation thought
necessary to suppress a disease outbreak.
“People
today know much more about COVID-19 than those in the Middle Ages knew about
plague, but Symes said history still repeats itself in many—some
disturbing—ways. ‘We are now finding that no
amount of medical or epidemiological knowledge can surmount inaction and
ignorance,’ Symes said. ‘In fact, our society is turning out to be just as
susceptible to false information and vicious rumor—now amplified by social
media—as the people of the distant past.’
“Symes noted that both the plague and COVID-19 have
been directly linked to human degradation of the environment, accelerated global
connectivity, and human encroachment on once-remote animal habitats. Both
outbreaks emerged in China, with the plague carried by Mongol conquests of the
13th and 14th centuries. And the plague was linked to climate change, coming at
the end of the Medieval Warm Period which led to cool and dry conditions that
allowed Yersinia pestis, the microbe that causes the
plague, to thrive.
“She added that, similar to how citizens of
China and people of Asian descent have faced demonization during the COVID-19
pandemic, Jewish communities were scapegoats for the Black Death in Europe.
‘We find that this new pandemic starkly exposes our interdependence and basic
biological equality,’ Symes said. ‘Will it catalyze more sustainable
environmental practices and economic policies that address the systemic
problems of our national and global societies? Or will it further entrench
socio-economic inequities, embolden authoritarian rulers, and open the way to
further destruction of our shared global habitat?’
“Emanuel
Rota, professor of French and
Italian, said that doctors in 18th-century France discovered that
vaccination proved an effective method of reducing mortality rates for
smallpox, but they didn’t fully understand why it worked. To the people trying
to contain the disease, however, the lack of understanding was beside the
point—and it was even criminal to debate the issue.
“‘The
sense of cultural solidarity of the elites, generals, priests, doctors,
aristocrats, etc., was enough to convince them to embrace the new method and to
push it on the lower classes,’ Rota said. ‘The lower classes had no choice but
accept the new method, either as soldiers, or as Christians or as subjects, but
they remained skeptical. They did not know what caused the illness but they
trusted, or were forced to trust, the medical establishment.’
“Most
importantly, Rota added, the study of the inexplicable success of vaccination
against smallpox led to the understanding that other terrible illnesses, like
rabies, could be similarly prevented. ‘The entire medical paradigm changed
because researchers took that exception seriously,’ Rota said, referring to the
discovery and acceptance of vaccinations. ‘Today we are in a strange situation.
We continue to rely on vaccines and we have nothing equivalent to antibiotics
for viruses. Perhaps it is time to stop relying mostly on the solution we
stumbled upon two centuries ago.’
“Symes
noted that the plague led to fundamental changes in attitude and ways of life
in Europe. Some of it was due to the massive mortality from the disease; with
reduced deforestation and reduced demands for grain, farmers were more able to
diversify crops and improve the soil through the pasturing of livestock. An
archaeological study in Glasgow revealed that people in 15th-century Scotland
ate a healthier diet than today.
“Also,
Symes said, the devastation caused by the Black Death made clear the importance
of the working class that kept societies functioning during the crisis. In wake
of the plague, governments tried in vain to stop workers from seeking better
wages and forming unions. As the peasants who marched on London in 1381—in
response to unjust treatment and burdensome taxes—put it, ‘When Adam dug and
Eve spun, who then was a gentleman?’ Symes said.
“In
Eyam, the plague spread quickly through the community. Within a few months,
dozens of villagers had died and survivors were on the verge of fleeing.
Momppesom, however, with the aid of a previous rector, Thomas Stanley, was able
to convince them to stay. They are credited with saving countless lives. ‘The
moral lesson of Eyam,’ Silverman said, ‘should give us hope that if a society
decides to act decisively for the larger public good through selfless
decency, cooperation, tolerance for inconvenience and—in our
case—acceptance of scientific facts, then we will get past this infectious
episode and hopefully emerge a better people, even a better nation’” (Pandemics and Fear: How history helps us understand COVID-19).
-Dave
Evensen, University of Illinois, College of Liberal Arts & Sciences.
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