The Sweating Sickness in England

by Francis Cornelius Webb

On the 29th, we find Wolsey removing to Hampton Court, on account of the “vehement infection and sykenes, that ys fallen amonges his Graces folkes.” Du Bellay’s next letter, we shall see, gives a rather ludicrous account of the precipitate retreat of the “great child of honour,” who, as all know from Cavendish, was dreadfully afraid of contagion, and used to carry with him an orange, stuffed with sponge steeped in vinegar and confections, against pestilent airs, the which he commonly held to his nose when he came to the presses, or when he was pestered with many suitors.

On the 30th the King had reached Tittenhanger in Hertfordshire, and here received news of the death of Sir William Compton, who was reported to be “lost by neclygens, in lettyng hym slepe in the begynnyng of his swete.” No more on that day had been attacked in the Court, and those who had sickened on the 28th were recovered.

Grafton tells us that during the stay at Tittenhanger the place was daily purged with fires and other preservatives. An odd remedy against a sweating sickness at Midsummer!

The second letter of the Cardinal du Bellay is of this date; after recounting the names of nine courtiers who had been attacked, and of three who were dead, he says—“but when all is said, those who do not expose themselves to the air rarely die; so that out of more than 45,000 who have been attacked in London, not 2000 have died, whatever people may say. It is true that if you merely put your hand out of bed during the twenty-four hours, you instantly become stiff as a peacock. P.S. Since writing my letters, I have been informed that a brother of the Earl of Derby’s, and a son-in-law of the Duke of Norfolk’s, have died suddenly at the legate’s (Wolsey), who slipped out at the back door with a few servants, and would not let any body know whither he was going, that he might not be followed. The king at last stopped about twenty miles hence, at a house which M. the legate has had built, and I have it from good authority, that he has made his will and taken the sacrament, for fear of sudden seizure. Nothing ails him, thank God!”

We shall hereafter see that the ambassador was inclined to think more seriously of it, when he had himself been a sufferer, and was the only survivor of nineteen who were attacked. However, in the absence of other evidence, we are bound to receive his statement as correct, in reference to the amount of mortality. And even this must have been proportionally as great as in our last epidemic of cholera and diarrhœa. It is calculated, in the Report of the Scientific Committee, published by the Board of Health, that seventy-one deaths in each 10,000 of the population of London took place, and that in this number there were 3473 cases of all forms of cholera and diarrhœa; in other words, that there was one death to every forty-eight attacks. But Du Bellay’s statement gives an average of two deaths in forty-five seizures; or more than double the proportion. Again, it must be remembered that these occurred in the space of sixteen days, whereas the cholera epidemic lasted six months. We do not wish to be supposed to insist on this calculation; in either case it can merely be an approximation, and we advance it here only to show that even a mild epidemic of the sweating sickness was no slight pestilence.

On the first of July, we are informed that two cases had occurred at Tittenhanger; one being that of a gentleman’s servant, the other, one of the King’s wardrobe. On this day the King sends to Wolsey for “the byll that Mr. Fynche made, for the remedy of all suche as have fallyn syke in youre howse; for as His Hynes ys enformyd, he haythe doyne very well, boythe to bryng them to there swheyte ageine, when they fall owte, and allso to swayge the grete hete and burnyng.”

On the 5th, we find the King again despatching to Wolsey to delay visiting him “untill the tyme be more propiciouse.” In a former letter we learn that flying tales had reached Tittenhanger, that many of his Grace’s folks were sick, and divers departed. Henry was as much frightened as the Cardinal, although on St. Thomas’s day he sends him a message, in a letter written by Dr. Bell, to put away fear and fantasies, to commit all to God, and expresses a wish that “Your Grace’s harte weer as gode as hys is.” Both king and minister made their wills, and each took care that the assurance was conveyed to the other that he was not forgotten in the testament. In the letter of the 5th, the Cardinal is desired to “cawse generall processions to be made, unyversally thorough the realme, aswell for the good wetheringes, to thencrease of corne and fruyte, as also for the plage that now reignethe.”

On the 9th, we find Henry preparing to remove from Tittenhanger to Ampthill in Bedfordshire, in consequence of the seizure of the “Lady Marques of Exeter,” and commanding that all such as were with the Marquis and Marchioness should “departe in severall parcells, and so not contynue together.”

On the 10th, the king had postponed his departure until the 11th; but, in the meantime, eight or nine had fallen sick, although none had been in jeopardy. The unpublished letter in the Cottonian Collection, before alluded to, bears date July the 14th. It is from Brian Tuke to Sir Peter Vannes. The disease had broken out in Tuke’s house; and he says, “I write this at my waking after mydnyt, fearing to lye stil for the swet, with an aking and troubled hed.” His wife had passed the paroxysm, but “veray weke,” “and also sore broken oute about her mowthe and other places.” His letter is principally filled with his opinion as to the causes and mode of spread of the epidemic. He allows that there is an infection, but believes that the disease is chiefly “provoked of disposicion of the tyme.” He thinks that many frighten themselves into it. (How commonly we heard this in the late epidemics!) He flatters himself that he has obtained protection by the nightly use of a certain means; which, however he does not specify. The context would lead us to suppose that it was the application of cold in some form; for he says—“It wer to long a worke to declare unto you by what and howe I nyghtly put away the swet from me, and by what reason I dare do the same, when al other men take that so doing they kil them self.” The chief facts of interest we learn from this letter are, that the sweat did not spread from Calais to Graveling, although there was constant intercourse between the two places, and that it was brought from Sussex into London. We may form some idea of his pathology by the following: “It is not so moch to be doubted to put away the swet in the begynnyng, and bifore a man’s grese be well hote, keping molten, as it is taken. For though surely after the grese so heted it is no lesse but rather more danger for a man to take colde then it wer for an horse that in like case is destroyed.”

On the 18th, the Abbess of Wilton in Wiltshire writes to Wolsey, that “it pleasithe Almyghty God to visite nowe the monastery with this greate plage of swetyng.”