Daily MoS: The Plague of Eyam

Covid has been a shit deal made infinitely shittier for those of us living in countries where germ theory is treated like… a theory. It all would have been a lot easier if we had been willing (and able) to do a hard lockdown, but suffice to say, mistakes were made.

There have been pandemics so incompatible with life that the world was changed forever as they burned on through, slashing away half of civilization in its wake. And in 1665-1666, an entire village would voluntarily quarantine itself to contain a disease, knowingly dooming the residents.

In today’s Moment of Science… the Plague of Eyam.

The tale of the bubonic plague is one of showing up in human history every few centuries and fucking up absolutely everything for a jiff. And I mean kill half the population of Europe fuck up. Change the economy forever fuck up. Invent ‘quarantine’ fuck up.

The bubonic plague derives its name from the Greek βουβών, meaning ‘groin,’ because the lymph nodes in your groin and armpit swell and look ready to become a Dr. Pimple Popper classic. From greeting the flea carrying the yersinia pestis bacteria until death, the disease course can take from two days to two weeks. As does every great love story in our modern world, it starts with flu-like symptoms and could progress to either septicemic plague or pneumonic plague. For purposes of this story, I may as well have said that it could progress to plague or plague. The point is, this disease is such a nasty piece of work with necrosis, pneumonia, hemorrhaging, shock, and organ failure that it all adds up to a 10-15% chance of death even with modern treatments.

So imagine what it did to Europeans in an era when one common answer for “what to do about this plague” was “idk, blame the Jews.” Shit was ugly. It’s estimated that 50 million Europeans died of this ‘Black Death’ in the mid 1300s, the second of three major plague pandemics.

You know the old saying though, one death is a tragedy, one million is a statistic. So let’s burnish this with some tragedy.

Eyam village was first hit with plague in the fall of 1665. The tailor received some flea infested cloth and became patient zero, dying within days. From there on out, it was only a matter of time before the plague had started spreading through his house and village. There were dozens of deaths in this small village in the first few months (population reports vary between 350 and 800 people). William Mompesson, the village rector (damn near killed her, yes I regret this), saw the villagers growing concern and some of their plans to flee for safety. But he knew history. Sure, leaving town might allow some people to escape safely.

But it would almost certainly damn entire neighboring villages to suffer the plague. And he wouldn’t have that.

It was a tough sell. Stay here and stick it out for the good of humanity, the death will be hurty, sorry ‘bout that. Or… flee the fuck away from these English peasants for a chance at life with your family, you’re not symptomatic, there’s no good evidence you’ve been bitten by an errant flea or been coughed on by someone with pneumoniatic plague… yet. Why should your freedoms be denied, huh? HUH?

But, they didn’t do that. In the face of near certain death and unbelievable suffering, they valiantly chose death to save others.

At the height of the plague in this tiny village, six people per day were dying. Elizabeth Hancock singlehandedly buried her husband and six children in eight days. Estimates vary, but some put the number of survivors as low as 83.

The plague isn’t eradicated today. There are still about 1,000-3,000 cases per year worldwide, and it’s treatable with a cocktail of antibiotics. It’s estimated that before antibiotics, 30-60% of people infected with plague died, and it still poses a significant risk of fatality even with treatment today.

Which makes what happened in Eyam more remarkable; they made a choice to protect people around them, and were responsible stewards of a grim fate they were locked into the day the tailor’s flea infested cloth arrived.

And you still have at least one friend who you can’t get to put on a fucking face mask.

This has been your daily Moment of Science, and your reminder to talk to your vet about flea prevention.

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