The “Malignant Fever,” Philadelphia, 1793.

An epidemic of yellow fever in Philadelphia in 1793^[1] terrified the population and claimed about 10% of it, some 5,000 people.

Mathew Carey wrote an account, of which this is an excerpt:

Who, without horror, can reflect on a husband, married perhaps for twenty years, deserting his wife in the last agony — a wife, unfeelingly, abandoning her husband on his death bed — parents forsaking their only children — children ungratefully flying from their parents, and resigning them to chance, often without an enquiry after their health or safety — masters hurrying off their faithful servants to Bushhill [Hospital], even on suspicion of the fever, and that at a time, when, like Tartarus, it was open to every visitant, but never returned any — servants abandoning tender and humane masters, who only wanted a little care to restore them to health and usefulness — who, I say, can think of these things, without horror? Yet they were daily exhibited in every quarter of our city . . . .

This kind of conduct produced scenes of distress and misery, of which few parallels are to be met with, and which nothing could palliate, but the extraordinary public panic, and the great law of self-preservation, the dominion of which extends over the whole animated world. Many men of affluent fortunes, who have given daily employment and sustenance to hundreds, have been abandoned to the care of a Negro, after their wives, children, friends, clerks, and servants, had fled away, and left them to their fate. In many cases, no money could procure (Page 24) proper attendance. With the poor, the case was, as might be expected, infinitely worse than with the rich. Many of these have perished, without a human being to hand them a drink of water, to administer medicines, or to perform any charitable office for them. Various instances have occurred, of dead bodies found lying in the streets, of persons who had no house or habitation, and could procure no shelter.

A man and his wife, once in affluent circumstances, were found lying dead in bed, and between them was their child, a little infant, who was sucking its mother's breasts. How long they had lain thus, was uncertain.

* * * *

To relate all the frightful cases of this nature that occurred, would fill a volume. . . . Let these few, therefore, suffice. But I must observe, that most of them happened in the first stage of the public panic. Afterwards, when the citizens recovered a little from their fright, they became rare.

These horrid circumstances having a tendency to throw a shade over the human character, it is proper to reflect a little light on the subject, wherever justice and truth will permit. Amidst the general abandonment of the sick that prevailed, there were to be found many illustrious instances of men and women, some in the middle, others in the lower spheres of life, who in the exercises of the duties of humanity, exposed themselves to dangers, which terrified men, who have hundreds of times faced death without fear, in the field of battle. Some of them, alas! Have fallen in the good cause! But why should they be regretted? Never could they have fallen more gloriously. Foremost in this noble group stands Joseph Inskeep, a most excellent man in every of the social relations of citizen, brother, husband, and friend. — To the sick and forsaken has he devoted his hours, to relieve and comfort them in their tribulation, and his kind assistance was dealt out with equal freedom to an utter stranger as to his bosom friend. Numerous are the instances of men restored, by his kind cares and attention, to their families, from the very jaws (Page 26) of death.–In various cases has he been obliged to put dead bodies into coffins, when the relations fled from the mournful office. The merit of Andrew Adgate, Joab Jones, and Daniel Ossley, in the same way, was conspicuous, and of the last importance to numbers of distressed creatures, bereft of every other comfort. Of those worthy men, Wilson and Tomkins, I have already spoken. The Rev. Mr. Fleming and the Rev. Mr. Winkhause, exhausted themselves by a succession of labours, day and night, attending on the sick, and ministering relief to their spiritual and temporal wants.

Of those who have happily survived their dangers, and are preserved to their fellow citizens, I shall mention a few. They enjoy the supreme reward of a self-approving conscience; and I readily believe, that in the most secret recesses, remote from the public eye, they would have done the same. But next to the sense of having done well, is the approbation of our friends and fellow men; and when the debt is great, and the only payment that can be made is applause, it is surely the worst species of avarice, to withhold it. We are always ready, too ready, alas! To bestow censure — and , as if anxious lest we should not give enough, we generally heap the measure. When we are so solicitous to deter by reproach from folly, vice, and crime, why not be equally disposed to stimulate to virtue and heroism, by freely bestowing the well-earned plaudit? Could I suppose, that in any future equally-dangerous emergency, the opportunity I have seized of bearing my feeble testimony, in favour of these worthy persons, would be a means of exciting others to emulate their heroic virtue, it would afford me the highest consolation I have ever experienced.

The Rev. Henry Helmuth's merits are of the most exalted kind. His whole time, during the prevalence of the disorder, was spent in the performance of the works of mercy, visiting and relieving the sick, comforting the afflicted, and feeding the hungry. Of his congregation, some hundreds have paid the last debt to nature, since the malignant fever began; and, I (Page 27) believe he attended nearly the whole of them. To so many dangers he was exposed, that he stands a living miracle of preservation. The Rev. C. V. , the Rev. Mr. , [sic] and the Rev. Mr. Dickens, have been in the same career, and performed their duties to the sick with equal fidelity, and with equal danger.^[2]

Some observations:

1. Many people were terrified and the strongest bonds between people melted away.


2. Some citizens of Philadelphia selflessly sacrificed themselves or took enormous risks to aid and comfort others. They faced the fear of the unknown, as well as the fear of the known. It was, as Mr. Carey wrote, a time when “attendance on the sick [was] regarded as little less than a certain sacrifice.”^[3]


3. Several clergymen distinguished themselves. Apparently the call of their duties as religious leaders was strong. They had not yet, it seems, morphed into the theocratic toads that the deranged left sees in every pulpit today.


4. The Negroes mentioned by Mr. Carey above seems to have be some of those who remained at their posts and took care of the “men of affluent fortunes” abandoned by their wives, children, friends, clerks, and servants. (Mr. Carey’s account did not mention the efforts of black leaders Richard Allen and Absalom Jones who "rallied their church community to assist victims.”)


5. The treatment of the ill recommended by Benjamin Rush, the city's leading physician, was bloodletting. Which is not to make fun of a man the sum total of whose useful and efficacious medical knowledge at that time would have exceeded my own had I lived then. But it is useful to keep in mind that the most pedestrian medical treatments and epidemic control capabilities of our apparently broken down^[4] health care system of today would have broken the back of the epidemic before it claimed one victim.


6. An unknown pestilence resulted in paralysis and major institutional breakdown that confounded the medical capabilities of 18th century Western society. Could there be an infestation today that will confound the defensive political capabilities of 21st century Western society?^[5] I am, in all innocence, just asking, ok?.


7. Oh, and those blacks in Philadelphia . . . . They weren’t slaves. White or black, if you were just Joe Schmo, it was probably better to be in Philadelphia then than in any other place on the earth. But hold the yellow fever.

Notes
^[1]"Yellow Fever Epidemic of 1793."
^[2] "A Short Account of the Malignant Fever, lately prevalent in Philadelphia: with a statement of the Proceedings that took place on the subject, in different parts of the United States --- to which are added, Accounts of the Plague in London and Marseilles; and a List of the Dead, From August 1, to the middle of December 1793." Chapter IV. By Mathew Carey Fourth Edition, Improved Philadelphia: Printed by the Author. January 15, 1794 (link added). Transcribed by Marjorie B. Winter.
^[3] Id. p. 31.
^[4] E.g., no free kidney dialysis at Quik Mart, no taxpayer-subsidized tummy tucks, no requirement for Mayo Clinic docs to make house calls in south L.A. Too many other horrors to list here.
^[5] At least in those times there weren’t citizens doing their best to breed more mosquitoes.