Another account, to the same purpose, is given in Mr. Battaglia’s paper. “On the 21st of April, 1781, the first battalion of the brigade of Savoy set out from Tortona, in order to go to Arti, when the weather was excessively hot. On the 22d, having made rather a forced march, the soldiers suffered a great deal from the ardour of the sun, so that, at the village of Serre, where they halted, one of them, named Bocquet, a man of twenty-five years of age, whose skin being very hard and thick had not perspired, sent forth a loud cry, which seemed to announce some extraordinary commotion, and instantly fell down. Mr. Bianet, surgeon major to the regiment, found the patient in convulsions. When he was carried to the hospital the upper part of his body, to the thighs, appeared to be withered and black, and in a gangrenous state. Mr. Bianet employed scarifications, but without effect; it was impossible to make him swallow any thing; and it was found necessary to abandon him to his dismal fate. His body soon exhaled a putrid smell, and he died at the end of five hours. That his disorder might not be communicated to others, he was interred together with his clothes. Upon inquiry, after his death, it was found that this man was addicted to the constant use of spiritous liquors, and that he had even drank of them to excess upon the march.”
Other instances there are, still more terrible, of people actually taking fire and being consumed to ashes by some internal cause; but, as nobody was present either at the beginning or during the continuance of these extraordinary inflammations, nothing certain can be said about them. That such things, however, have happened, is certain, of which one of the most remarkable instances is that of Signora Corn. Zangari, an Italian lady. She retired to her chamber in the evening somewhat indisposed, and in the morning was found in the middle of the room reduced to ashes, all except her face, legs, skull and three fingers. The stockings and shoes she had on were not burnt in the least. The ashes were light, and on pressing them between the fingers vanished, leaving behind a gross, stinking moisture, with which the floor was smeared; the walls and furniture of the room being covered with a moist cineritious soot, which had not only stained the linen in the chests, but had penetrated into the closet, as well as into the room overhead, the walls of which were moistened with the same viscous humour. This lady had been accustomed to use a bath of camphorated spirit of wine when indisposed.
Dr. Zimmerman, from the 64th volume of the Philosophical Transactions, relates the case of a poor woman who perished in this miserable manner at Coventry in England in the year 1772. “She fell out of bed, and was found next morning burnt to death, though the fire in the grate had been small, and the furniture in the room had suffered but little. Except one thigh and leg, there were not the least remains of any skin, vessels or viscera; and the greater part of the bones were completely calcined, and covered with a whitish efflorescence.”
On these unfortunate people it has been observed that they were generally intemperate in the use of spiritous liquors. Of the poor woman at Coventry, whose case has been just now related, it is said, that she had been in the practice of drinking from half a pint to a quart of rum every day, and this she continued, notwithstanding her being affected with jaundice and other complaints. Mr. Wilmer, who communicated this case to the Royal Society, concludes it with these words: “That her solids and fluids were rendered inflammable by the immense quantity of spiritous liquors she had drank, and when she was set fire to she was probably soon reduced to ashes.”
On other cases of a similar nature it has been remarked, that the miserable sufferers were “for the most part advanced in years, remarkably fat, and had been much addicted to the use of spiritous liquors, either in their drink, or applied in friction to the body; whence it has been concluded that these people perished by their whole substance spontaneously taking fire, the principal seat of which had been the entrails, or the epigastric viscera; and that the exciting cause was naturally found in the phlogiston of the humours, called forth by that of the spiritous liquors combined with them.”[85] But solutions of this kind cannot by any means be admitted. We have not the smallest reason to think that either the solid or fluid parts of the bodies of hard drinkers are more inflammable than those of other people; neither is it credible that any person could live with his body in such a state. Besides, the most inflammable bodies will not begin to burn unless fire actually be applied to them, while others much less inflammable to appearance, will yet take fire spontaneously. Thus, even spiritous liquors themselves, though they flame violently when thrown into a fire, or when a burning body is applied to them, yet there is not an instance of such liquors taking fire of themselves; nay, they cannot even be set on fire by pouring them upon a red-hot iron, while, on the other hand, heaps of wet vegetables, which we should think scarce at all inflammable, do yet very frequently take fire spontaneously. The author lately quoted, however, justly observes that M. Bartholi, the unfortunate priest above mentioned was plainly struck first by electricity from without, a spark of fire attaching itself to his shirt, and a faint flame surrounding his body; so that the fire did not seem to have been generated in his body, but in the atmosphere. There are instances of people being surrounded with these luminous appearances without being hurt; particularly of a woman at Milan, whose bed was surrounded with a light of this kind. Mr. Loammi Baldwin, of this country, was also surrounded by an electric light, while raising a kite in the time of a thunder storm, and Dr. Priestley makes mention of a gentleman, who, after having worked an electric machine for a long time in a small room, perceived, on leaving it, a luminous vapour following him. But the instances most to our present purpose are some recorded in the Philosophical Transactions, of luminous vapours coming from the sea, attaching themselves to corn-stacks, and setting fire to them. One of this kind is particularly mentioned in Lowthorp’s Abridgement of the Transactions, as having taken place in Ireland, coming repeatedly from the sea, and setting fire to corn and hay, so that the people were greatly alarmed. At last they found that it might be driven off by making a great noise, and that it would avoid any sharp-pointed iron instrument. Had such a vapour attached itself to a human body, it is possible that it might have set fire to it as well as to the stack of corn or hay. Whether these accounts render the story of the Genoese sailors concerning the ball of fire occasioning the plague of 1346 more credible, we leave the reader to judge. They certainly show, however, that the electric fluid will sometimes interfere with the human body in a very terrible manner, producing, where it does not kill instantaneously, symptoms equal to those of the very worst plague, as in the case of the priest and soldier above mentioned.
Another hypothesis concerning the origin of pestilential diseases is that of swarms of little animals invisibly existing in the atmosphere; which, being taken into the body by the breath, are supposed to corrupt or otherwise vitiate the blood and other parts of the body, as we see in the plague and other epidemic disorders. This hypothesis, so generally exploded, and so apparently improbable, seems to receive some support from a discovery of an insect made by Mr. Henry Baker, F. R. S. and published in his work entitled “The Microscope made Easy.” He called it the insect with net-like arms. “It lives (says he) only in cascades, where the water runs very swift. Some of them being kept in a vial of water, most died in two days, and the rest, having spun themselves transparent cases, which were fastened either to the sides of the glass, or to pieces of grass put into it, seemed to be changed into a kind of chrysalis; but before they assumed this form, they altered their shape (in a manner he represents by a figure.) None of them lived above three days; and, though fresh water was given them two or three times a day, yet in a few hours it would stink to a degree scarce conceivable, and that too at several yards distance, though, in proportion to the water, all the included insects were not more than as one to one million, an hundred and fifty thousand. This makes it probable that it is necessary for them to live in a rapid stream, lest they should be poisoned by the effluvia issuing from their own bodies, as no doubt they were in the vial.”
From this account it is not difficult to conceive that animals, though exceedingly small, may yet emit such poisonous effluvia as will destroy much larger ones in their neighbourhood. It will by no means be incredible that, had one or two such offensive animals been thrown into a jar containing gold-fishes,[86] the whole of these beautiful inhabitants would have perished at once. Let us suppose such a thing to have actually happened; that a malicious person had put them in over night, and in the morning the proprietor of the fishes finds them all dead, and the water offensive to the last degree. He sends for a neighbouring philosopher, who, happening to be ignorant of the existence of such animals, endeavours to account for the phenomenon upon some of the received principles of philosophy. How much theory would here be wasted, and what endless disputes might ensue without even a possibility of arriving at the truth! Just so it is with epidemic diseases. The cause is invisible, and, until it becomes discoverable by our senses, it can never be known; for, as has already been observed, a cause never can be known merely by its effects, unless we have seen it, or somebody who has seen it gives us information. And this will certainly be found to hold good in every instance, even from the Supreme Cause himself to the diminutive insect just mentioned.
Lastly, I shall consider another possible source of epidemics, which has been hinted at by others. Allowing that infectious matter proceeds from the body of a diseased person, as much must issue from a single patient as is sufficient to bring the disease upon thousands, and with regard to the small-pox and some other distempers we certainly know that it is so. This infection is dissipated in the atmosphere, and intimately combined with it, so that it becomes imperceptible and harmless; but we have no reason to suppose that it is annihilated, or cannot be re-produced in its pristine state. Water, though perfectly dissolved, and to appearance deprived of existence in the air, may yet be precipitated from it, and pour down upon us in deluges. What happens in one case may happen in another. The infectious matter, dissolved in the air, may by some natural cause be precipitated from it, overshadowing whole regions, and, if it be not powerful enough to produce the epidemic of itself, may certainly predispose to it in such a degree, that the slightest additional cause will bring it on.
Something indeed of this kind would seem really to be the case, otherwise we cannot well conceive why there should be such a distinction of diseases. Thus the infection of the small-pox is the same all over the world. The variolous matter will never produce the measles in any country, nor will the typhus produce a pleurisy. The plague manifests itself to be the same distemper in all its various degrees of malignity, though even this dreadful disease is sometimes so mild that it does not confine the patient to his bed. There must therefore be some certain constitution in the nature of the cause which produces such and such diseases, as certainly as in the seed of particular vegetables, which gives to each its proper appearance and shape. The cause of the disease so modified we may call, with Dr. Cullen, its specific contagion.
Having thus treated so largely upon contagion of different kinds, it now remains to consider the objections that have been made to the doctrine altogether. It is indeed surprising that in so great a length of time, after the world hath so often and so dreadfully suffered from the violence of plagues, the simple fact, whether it be infectious or not, should not have been determined: nay, that it should still be questioned by physicians of no mean reputation whether such a thing as contagion or infection can possibly exist. Dr. Mosely in his treatise on tropical diseases treats the whole doctrine of contagion with the utmost contempt; calling it “a field for speculation, which has long amused the pedantry of the schools, and should never be entered into by practical writers.” Notwithstanding this, however, he doth enter into it, and with such bad success, that in the very first paragraph he is obliged to derive the cause of diseases from the stars! “There are some diseases we know, (says he) which follow the changes of the atmosphere; but there are others which make their revolutions, and visit the earth, at uncertain periods; for which we can trace no cause, depending on combinations, in which, perhaps, the influence of the planets may have some share.” Here we have a still wider field for speculation than even the schools have given us; for the Doctor ought to remember that the influence of a planet, producing a disease, is as truly contagion as the effluvia of a dunghill; and if we have a wide field to traverse when tracing it through the earth, we have one infinitely more extensive in pursuing it through the heavens. But we may be assured that planetary influence does not produce diseases; for, if it did, they would in all times of pestilence overspread the face of the earth, as the influence of the planets, if they have any, certainly does.