The Anti-Fascist Cartoons of David Low

David Low (1891-1963) was one of the great political cartoonists of the 20th century. Born in New Zealand, he emigrated to Britain in 1919. In 1927 he joined the staff of London's Evening Standard. He took the job on condition the paper's owner assured him he would have complete freedom from editorial interference. 

Low remained at the Evening Standard until 1950. He is best remembered for his cartoons of the 1930s and early 40s, in which  he lampooned the dictators Hitler, Stalin, and Mussolini, and British architects of appeasement, Neville Chamberlain and Lord Halifax. 

In 1937, Nazi Propaganda Minister Joseph Goebbels told Halifax that Low's cartoons were damaging German-British relations. Halifax promised to try and restrain Low, with little effect. Indeed, Halifax himself became one of the chief targets of Low's satire. 

In the first cartoon, from July 1936, Low draws Hitler advancing towards his goals of expanding German military power and territory by walking along the backs of the "spineless leaders of democracy" who are nothing more than "Stepping Stones to Glory." 

Hitler had already violated key terms of the Treaty of Versailles (1919). After gaining power in 1933, he massively expanded the size of the German military, violating the clause restricting its size and weaponry. In 1936, he ordered German soldiers to occupy the Rhineland on the French border, which the Treaty had declared a demilitarized zone. The other powers did nothing. 

Lack of spine remained a theme in another cartoon, which blasts the appeasement policy of British Foreign Secretary Lord Halifax. The policy veered between conceding the "legitimate" demands of Hitler and Mussolini and warning them not to demand more or resort to military action. 

Here, Halifax, in bed under piles of foreign office dispatches, is approached by his butler carrying breakfast and newspapers. The butler's question and the items in the wardrobe make Low's point. 

In "Cause Precedes Effect," below, European leaders, including Mussolini in black cap. give Hitler the Nazi salute while parading with his army. The Versailles Treaty, key clauses of which Hitler had violated, is carried in front, along with a banner. The caption, "17 Years of Lost Opportunity" refers to the leaders' failure to act decisively to preserve the Treaty's promises of democracy and world peace. 

In March 1938 Germany annexed Austria and the other powers did nothing, reasoning that Austrians were Germans. In September 1938, after threatening war, British and French leaders met with Hitler and Mussolini in Munich. With Chamberlain pushing the French, they agreed to Hitler's demand that Germany be allowed to annex the Sudetenland of Czechoslovakia. The Sudeten region had a German majority and Hitler claimed that the Czechs were oppressing them. 

In return, Hitler promised to make no more territorial demands in Europe. The British Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain, arrived  back in London waving the agreement, and saying he had brought "Peace in Our Time." 

Low mocked the Munich Agreement by implying that it amounted to destroying a strong defensive wall and replacing it with Hitler's worthless paper promise. Chamberlain and Halifax are at left holding the rope which Conservative sheep are jumping over.

How worthless Hitler's promise was became clear within a few months. The Nazis occupied the rest of Czechoslovakia and began making territorial demands on Poland. Low predicted as much at the end of 1938 when he portrayed Hitler as Kris Kringle collecting European nations, pictured as children of the "French-British Family," as presents for Germany. 

Shortly before invading Poland, Hitler negotiated a non-aggression pact with the Soviet Union. The Nazi-Soviet Pact took many observers by surprise. In Mein Kampf Hitler had denounced "Jewish Bolshevism" as one of the greatest threats to the "Ayran Race" and threatened to invade and destroy the Soviet Union. 

Hitler only agreed to the pact because his generals feared getting stuck in a two front war as in the Great War of 1914-18. Stalin, who had tried and failed to form an anti-fascist alliance with the Western Powers, agreed to the pact in return for being allowed to annex eastern Poland and the Baltic States. 

Here, Low portrays Hitler and Stalin meeting each other in Poland, with a dead Polish soldier lying between them. Their greetings to each other indicate the underlying animosity between the two dictators. 

Low was convinced that the Nazi-Soviet partnership could not last. In "Someone is Taking Someone for a Walk" he predicts, correctly, that they were insincere in their new friendship and would soon be enemies again. 

In May 1940, Hitler invaded France and the Low Countries sweeping aside the French and British armies.Within a few weeks, France had surrendered. Several hundred thousand British and French soldiers escaped to Britain in what became known as the "Miracle of Dunkirk." But there was no hiding the fact that Nazi Germany had achieved a tremendous victory. Most of Continental Europe was soon under his control or allied with him.

As the scope of the disaster in France became clear, Chamberlain's Conservative government fell and a National Government led by Winston Churchill replaced it. Churchill was also a Conserative, but the new government was a coalition of Conservative, Labour, and Liberal MPs. 

Low cheered the creation of the new government with the cartoon, "We're Behind You Winston," emphasizing national unity in face of the fascist threat. Churchill leads, followed by leaders of the three major parties. Chamberlain and Halifax, first and third behind Churchill on the left, remained in the war cabinet for the time being, and Halifax in particular pushed for a negotiated peace. Chamberlain was soon removed by death from cancer. In 1941, Halifax was packed off to Washington as British ambassador.

With the fall of France, Britain  found itself with no allies in Europe, facing not only Germany but Fascist Italy. Mussolini, who had formed a pact with Germany in 1936, joined Hitler in the war as soon as it became clear France was finished.

Low illustrated Britain's dire situation in "Very Well, Alone," with a British soldier on a rock surrounded by stormy seas, vowing defiance. Britain would remain alone for a year, until Hitler betrayed Stalin and invaded the Soviet Union in June 1941. A few months later, the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor brought the USA into the war, which would last another four years.

Many more of Low's cartoons can be found on various online sites. 

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Punch Goes to War: World War I

The British humorous and satirical magazine Punch began its long and influential run of publication in 1841. Among other things Punch helped give the word "cartoon" its modern meaning as a humorous picture. Cartoons were a mainstay of Punch as it commented on the events of the day. Some may not seem funny today. Some were racist or xenophobic. But the cartoons were generally designed to raise laughter among the magazine's readers.

As Europe moved towards what would become a world war just before and during 1914, however, its cartoons became increasingly serious in tone and message. As the war unfolded, Punch would become an important tool of British propaganda. 

The cartoon below, "The Boiling Point," appeared in Punch in October 1912.  It was reacting to the dangerous situation created by the first of two Balkan Wars in 1912-13. The wars were related to the long decline of Ottoman Turkish power in the region. Several countries, including Serbia, Montenegro, Bulgaria, Greece, had won their independence from the Ottoman Empire during the 19th century. They were intent on expanding their new states at the expense of the Ottomans, and then each other.

The cartoon reflects fears, correct as it turned out, that the Balkan conflict might spill over and ignite a wider war. In the foreground, left to right, Russia, Germany, and Austria-Hungary strive to keep the lid on the boiling pot. Behind them, Britain and France look on anxiously. 

Within less than two years these fears had materialized. As is well known, the spark that ignited what became The Great War was the assassination of the heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne, Franz -Ferdinand, in the Bosnian capital, Sarajevo, on August 28, 1914. The assassin, Gavrilo Princip, was a Bosnian Serb with links to an extremist Serbian nationalist organization. 

Serbian nationalists had long sought to unite the South Slavs or Yugoslavs into a Greater Serbia. The territory they craved included Bosnia-Herzogovina, Slovenia, and Croatia, all currently part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. 

Austrian leaders sought to use the assassination as a pretext to destroy the Serbian nationalist movement. They issued an ultimatum to Serbia that led to war at the end of July, a war that quickly engulfed all the great European powers. The cartoon below, "The Power Behind" shows the Austrian double-headed eagle about to pounce on the defiant Serbian cock, while the Russian bear emerges from behind a rock. 

Russian determination to protect Serbia brought Germany into the war on behalf of its Austrian ally. Germany also declared war on Russia's ally France, a move dictated by the war plan of the German High Command, the Schlieffen Plan. Meanwhile, Germany virtually assured Britain's entry into the war by invading France through neutral Belgium on August 4. 

The German government had asked Belgium permission to cross their country. Belgium refused. The German Army, committed to its war plan, marched into Belgium. Britain demanded an immediate withdrawal, then declared war on Germany when the demand was ignored. 

Punch applauded Belgium for its defiance in the cartoon, "Bravo Belgium," published on August 12. The farm boy represents "Little Belgium" protecting his farm from the German brigand, identified by the sausages hanging from his pocket.

In order to whip up British support for the war, the British government and media reported many instances of German "atrocities" in Belgium. Some were real; others invented. 

Punch contributed numerous cartoons to the patriotic effort, including the two below. In the first, from August 23, 1914, Kaiser Wilhelm II stands over Belgian civilians he has just shot, holding the German Imperial flag. His revolver is still smoking. The illustrator, Bernard Partridge, had long produced unflattering images of the Kaiser and that would continue throughout the war.

The second cartoon portrays Germany as a barbaric ogre who has torn Belgian neutrality to shreds, protesting he had to attack Belgium in self-defense. The sign behind him says: "World Power or Decline," reflecting the view of Germany's leaders that they were encircled by enemies intent on their destruction. Both cartoons feature burning and destroyed buildings in the background. 

Though the Belgians put up stiff resistance, the German Army overwhelmed them. Within days, the small British Expeditionary Force had arrived to aid the Belgians and French. They fought their first engagement at Mons in Belgium on August 23. During the next two weeks, they and their French allies were 

pushed back by superior German numbers to the outskirts of Paris. 

Reinforced by additional French troops, the allies counterattacked along the River Marne on September 6. Over the next week they pushed the German Army back about 40 miles (65km). The Battle of the Marne was a major victory for the Allies, but the Germans reformed their lines along the River Aisne and began to dig trenches. The Allies followed suit. The line of battle would soon stretch from the Belgian coast to the Alps and would not shift significantly for the next four years. A war of movement became a war of stalemate and attrition, with millions of casualties.  

Punch seemingly made light of the horrors of the war in "The Incorrigibles," by Frederick Henry Townshend. A new soldier arrving at the British trench line is greeted by an "Old Hand" in a waterlogged trench, who assures him that he will have a jolly good time at the front. 

This cartoon (and others) show Punch retained some of its old sense of humor. But the humor was becoming darker. Was Townshend simply trying to boost morale in a dire situation? Or was he cynically poking fun at the British stiff upper lip syndrome? Despite the soldiers' words and smiles, it seems hard to believe anyone would consider their situation enjoyable. As the realities of trench warfare sank in over the next four years, the soldiers themselves would produce much dark and cynical humor of their own. 

Alaska's Glacier Country: Kenai Peninsula and Resurrection Bay

Two years ago this month I took a trip to Alaska. When my son Alastair got a job there, my other son Colin and I decided to take up his offer to visit him. Colin flew there from his home in Charleston, SC, and I from mine in London. 

It was the longest journey I have ever made. After more than 24 hours of flying and airport delays, I arrived in Anchorage, where I met up with Colin and his friend Morgan.

The following day we made our way to Seward, a small but bustling tourist destination on the Kenai Peninsula, fronting the deep waters of Resurrection Bay. The drive was our introduction to a fabulous landscape. 

The photo below is of Beluga Point, south of Anchorage. The tracks are those of the Alaska Railroad, which runs from Seward all the way to Fairbanks.

We spent the afternoon and evening exploring Seward and recovering from our travels. The next day we took a long boat tour of Kenai Fjords National Park, which included breakfast and lunch. We were blessed with fine sunny weather and a high about 60F (16C). 

We were to soon find out that the air on Resurrection Bay and vicinity could be quite a bit colder, especially when the boat was moving fast. Below is a picture of our tour boat, Alaska Explorer -- not taken by me, obviously.

Cold or not, we and many others braved the bow of the boat much of the time, hoping to glimpse as much wildlife as possible. We had hardly left the dock when we were greeted by sea otters, including this little guy enjoying the fine day.

The mist was rising from the surrounding mountains as we went along, making them look like erupting volcanoes. Crew members told us they had never seen anything like it before.

About the same time, we were passing Bear Glacier, one of forty glaciers that descend from the vast Harding Ice Field. The Harding is more than 700 square miles (777 sq. km) in size. Alaska, by the way, is home to 15 percent of the world's glaciers. 

Soon, we were passing harbor seals lolling on the shore, and Steller's Sea Lions on rocky islands. We saw the spouts of fin whales, but they eluded our attempts to get closer. Fin whales are the second largest animals on earth, next to blue whales. 

We also saw lots of sea birds, including horned and tufted puffins, murres, auklets, and shearwaters. And some eagles.

Soon, we passed Aialik Bay and entered Harris Bay, home of several large glaciers, noably Northwestern Glacier, shown in the last four photos.

On our return trip we ran into a pod of orcas, often called killer whales, an unfortunate name.  We also glimpsed a humpback whale, which waved to us with his tail as it dove. 

After a long and eventful day, we returned to port in Seward, and a well earned seafood dinner. 

POLIMERICKS from Brexitstan: Updated

My guardian angel sent me these political limericks (polimericks) to keep me sane while enduring the Tory Brexdemic. The angel instructed me to share them with the world. Listen, my children, and you shall hear of the shameless liars who kicked your rear. 

There once was a PM lackaday!
Who said, Parliament's in my way.
He hatched a cunning plan
And didn't give a damn
The law must simply give way.

There once was a Theresa named May
Who said, Brexit's the work of a day.
The EU will give up
As soon as I gear up.
Now she's feeling a sense of Dis-May.

There once was a Scotsman name Haggis
Who said Brexit is going to shag us.
I voted Remainer,
Now I'm a Complainer.
Out of Europe England has drug us.

There once was a Boris named Johnson
Who said, Brexit has been by me be won. 
I'm your greatest PM,
A wonderful gem
Such a damn brilliant son of a gun.

There was a young man from the City
Who said, life was formerly pretty.
I once was a banker
I'm now just a wanker.
Brexit has made everything shitty. 

Three Cheers for Boris and the Tories: Lies! Corruption! Sewage! 

Polimericks, c. 2019-22

The Prime Minister is Assassinated! London, May 1812

On the afternoon of May 11, 1812, the British Prime Minister, Spencer Perceval, was walking through the lobby of the House of Commons when a man approached him and shot him point blank in the chest. Perceval supposedly cried "Murder" and "Oh, my God" before collapsing to the floor. He was pronounced dead a short time later. He remains the only British Prime Minister to have been assassinated.

   


Authorities initially feared that the shooting was the beginning of an uprising of radical elements. Unrest was widespread. Food prices were high. Britain had been at war with France since 1793 and simultaneously undergoing the traumas of early industrialization. Perceval was highly unpopular. People in some places cheered when they heard of his death. 

It soon became clear that the assassin had acted alone, out of a sense of grievance against Perceval and his government. John Bellingham (not Ballingham as in the image above) was a Liverpool merchant who believed that he had been unjustly imprisoned in Russia after his business had gone bankrupt. He had repeatedly petitioned the government for compensation, but his petitions had been ignored.  (Below: Contemporary image of Bellingham)

Bellingham was charged with wilful murder, tried, convicted, and hanged within a week. To some people he was a hero: a public subscription was raised to benefit his widow, testimony to the unpopularity of Perceval and the Tory government. Others thought he was insane. 

Among them was Bellingham's defense team. But they had only one day to prepare his defense. The lead defense counsel, Peter Alley, entered a plea of insanity and requested a delay to call witnesses, medical experts and people who knew Bellingham personally. The court denied his requests and the trial proceeded. It seems that the government was eager for revenge and to set an example.  

Bellingham himself rejected his counsel's insanity plea. He defended his action as the inevitable result of the government's refusal to compensate him for his losses in Russia. It did not take long for the jury to convict him. (below: Bellingham pleading his case)

Was Bellingham insane? We will probably never be able to answer that question. But one thing I think we can be sure of: his chances of being declared insane would have been much greater if he had failed to kill Perceval or killed someone of lesser importance.
People who had tried and failed to assassinate George III and later, Queen Victoria were declared insane and sent to asylums. Another example comes from a case similar to that of Bellingham's.

In the early 1840s, Daniel McNaughten*, a Glasgow woodturner, became convinced that the Tory government was persecuting him and sending spies to harass him. Like Bellingham, he blamed the Prime Minister, in this case, Sir Robert Peel. 

In January McNaughten went to London, apparently intending to shoot Peel. Instead he shot Peel's secretary Edward Drummond in the back while Drummond was walking down Whitehall. It was widely believed that McNaughten mistook Drummond for Peel, but that is not entirely clear. 

At first, Drummond was expected to recover from his wound. But he died of "complications" a few days later, possibly due to medical incompetence. Like Bellingham, McNaughten was charged with wilful murder. But there the similarities end. 

McNaughten's father contributed a large sum of money to his son's defense and secured excellent counsel. (Where got the money is a mystery. A woodturner like his son, he is unlikely to have possessed such fuds himself.) Defense counsel requested a delay to prepare their case and the court granted it this time. The trial did not begin until March 3. 

The defense, led by one of the top barristers in England, Alexander Cockburn, called a number of expert medical winesses. including several leading alienists (psychiatrists). They testified that McNaughten was insane, that his delusions regarding the government had deprived him of "all restraint over his actions." In other words, he was not responsible for what he did. (Below: Drawing of McNaughten at the time of his trail)

The prosecution agreed that McNaughten was delusional, but argued that he was nevertheless responsible for his actions. The jury accepted the defense argument and found McNaughten not guilty on grounds of insanity. He was sent to Bethlem Hospital, part of which functioned as the state asylum for criminal lunatics. In 1864 he was transferred to the newly opened Broadmoor Asylum for the Criminally Insane, where he died a year later. (Photo of McNaughten taken at Bethlem, 1856)

The verdict at McNaughten's trial sparked widespread outrage. Most of the public, including the Queen, believed that McNaughten had escaped a well-deserved hangman's noose. McNaughten himself never denied killing Drummond, which he justified as the result of Tory persecution, not delusions. He had been involved in radical politics and there may have been some truth to his claims of persecution.

The furor over the verdict led to a demand that the rules for an insanity plea be clearly defined. The result was the McNaughten Rules, which state that 

"To establish a defence on the grounds of insanity it must be clearly proved that, at the time of committing the act. the party accused was labouring under such a defect of reason from disease of the mind, as not to know the nature and quality of the act he was doing or if he did know it, that he did not know that what he was doing was wrong."   

The McNaughten Rules were subsequently adopted in England and Wales, much of the British Empire, and the United States. In England and Wales the rules were largely superseded by the adoption in 1957 of the Scottish concept of diminshed responsibility.

Ironically, if the McNaughten Rules had been in force at McNaughten's trial, he would have been found guilty and hanged.

*McNaughten's name in historical records is variously spelled as McNaughtan, M'Naughten, M'Naghten, and more.

Further reading: 

Andro Linklater, Why Spencer Perceval Had to Die: The Assassination of A British Prime Minister (London, 2013)

David C. Hanraham, The Assassination of the Prime Minister: John Bellingham and the Murder of Spencer Perceval (London, 2011)

Richard Moran, Knowing Right from Wrong: The Insanity Defense of Daniel McNaughtan (New York, 1981)

Gin Crazes: Georgian England and Beyond

If you search the internet for "Gin Craze" these days you will probably find information about two such crazes. One is the current craze for craft, artisan, and boutique gins with alll sorts of added flavorings, including asparagus. 

The number of gin distilleries in the UK increased from 152 to 315 between 2013 and 2018. In 2016 a gin hotel opened, run by the Portobello Road Distillery, where over indulgers can spend the night. That may be a first for modern London, but perhaps not for an earlier age, as we will see. "Gin craze sees number of UK distilleries double in five years."

The other craze, which comes up in searches far more frequently, has a much longer pedigree. This is the original Gin Craze that  swept over England, especially London, in the early 18th century. Gin, or geneva, as it was often called, was a new drink in the British Isles. It was introduced by Dutch producers and drinkers who arrived after their ruler, Willliam of Orange, became king of England in 1689, as William III (1689-1702). 

The government under William and his successor, Queen Anne (1702-1714), promoted gin as an alternative to brandy, a French import. During most of this period, Britain was at war with France. (Image: William III)

The new spirit caught on quickly, especially in London and among the lower orders. Producers and sellers touted gin as a medicine that could cure gout and indigestion. But it soon became popular for other reasons. One is that it was untaxed and therefore cheaper than beer and other drinks such as brandy. No license was required to distill or sell gin, unlike other alcoholic drinks.

Another reason is that gin promised a quick route from misery to oblivion, an obvious attraction to the wretched masses of London's slums. "Drunk for a penny, dead drunk for twopence. Clean straw for nothing," as William Hogarth put it. The straw indicates a possible connection with today's gin hotel. The intoxicated could  sleep off their inebriation on the straw. Perhaps not an ideal accommodation for today's gin tourist.

Gin shops proliferated rapidly in the poorer parts of the capital. According to an estimate in the 1730s, one London house in five contained a gin shop. By the 1740s, consumption of gin in London had reached astounding levels, on average more than two pints per person per week. The gin they drank was roughly twice as strong as that sold today. 

Many people denounced the situation, among them novelist and magistrate Henry Fielding and artist William Hogarth. They blamed gin for an upsurge in mortality, poverty, and crime. 

In 1751 Fielding, founder of the Bow Street Runners, argued that if consumption was not curbed, there would soon be "few of the common people left to drink it." Fielding claimed that "gin alone" was responsible for a large proportion of theft and robbery in his jurisdiction.

Hogarth agreed. In the same year, he tackled the gin problem in his classic engravings "Gin Lane" and "Beer Street." "Gin Lane" highlights the destructive effects of excessive gin drinking on London's populace. Desolation and death reign everywhere in this grim work, centered on the intoxicated woman whose child is falling from her arms, probably to its death. This part of the scene recalls another nickname for gin, "Mother's Ruin." Fighting, theft, and suicide are hallmarks of this neighborhood. Buildings are falling down, shops decrepit. Only the pawnbroker and undertaker are prospering.

"Beer Street" is the complete opposite. Here, everyone is prospering except the pawnbroker, whose services are unneeded and whose shop is decrepit. Crime and violence are absent. Happiness, robust health, and good cheer reign. 

The government's response to the gin craze was to tax the production and sale of gin heavily, thereby raising its price, as well as the Crown's revenue. Parliament passed a series of gin acts between the 1720s and 1750s. The Gin Act of 1736 introduced prohibitive licensing fees. It inspired the cartoon below, which celebrates the "funeral of  Madame Geneva." Her death, as it turns out, was greatly exaggerated.

Enforcement of the act relied on paid informers, who were often victims of crowd violence, the so-called "Gin Riots." Producers and sellers largly ignored the law, and consumption continued to rise. Critics claimed that the illegal gin was improperly distilled and often poisoned.

The 1736 act was repealed in 1743 and replaced by a more moderate, more workable law in 1751. Consumption dropped after 1743, and more in the 1750s, probably more for economic reasons than legislative ones. 

In the early 19th century gin enjoyed a major renaissance with the opening of "gin palaces," establishments much more attractive than the dingy gin shops of the previous century.  One of these "palaces" is pictured below. The unknown artist portrays it as a convivial enough place, but the drunks and young children indicate cause for concern. 

Gin drinking reached near its 18th century levels again and aroused renewed condemnation. The renowned caricaturist George Cruikshank produced the cartoon below in 1829, "The Gin Shop." Once again, gin was equated with destruction. At the left, Death chortles cheerlily that he will "have them all dead drunk presently. They have nearly had their last glass." 

The various gins in the shop are stored in coffins. Signs indicate that gin is the road to the workhouse, financial and physcical ruin. Parents have brought their children to the shop, and the mother is forcing her infant to drink gin. The "woman" serving the gin is actually a skeleton wearing a mask. 

Cruikshank reiterated the point in other works, such as the one below, "The Battle of A-Gin-Court," (1838). In obvious reference to one of England's greatest medieval victories in the Hundred Year War, Agincourt, Cruikshank emphasizes the message that gin is bringing about the disintegration of a once great nation.

Cruikshank certainly convinced himself. He became a teetotaler in the 1840s. Gin consumption fell with the growing strength of the Temperance Movement during the Victorian Age, but the advent of the gin and quinine tonic as an antidote to malaria in Britain's tropical possessions helped keep the gin industry alive. Today's gin craze is helping it to thrive again, for good or ill. 

Further Reading: 

Jessica Warner, Craze: Gin and Debauchery in an Age of Reason. (London, 2003)

Patrick Dillon, The Much Lamented Death of Madame Geneva: The Eighteenth Century Gin Craze. (London, 2003)

The Plague Village: Eyam, Derbyshire

In the summer of 1665, the last and one of the worst plague epidemics struck London. In all, the Great Plague of London killed around 100,000 people, almost one fourth of the population. Those who could, especially royalty, the aristocracy and the wealthy, fled to the countryside in hopes of escaping infection. Others continued their usual businesses, which often involved traveling around the country. 

Those who left the city risked spreading the disease, and sometimes they did. Other cities and towns, including Colchester, Norwich, Lincoln, and Peterborough, had major epidemics in 1665-66. So did a small, isolated Derbyshire village. 

Tucked away in the rural beauty of the Peak District, Eyam (pronounced "Eem") must have seemed as safe a place as one could be. 

Indeed, none of the surrounding villages or towns was visited by the dreaded disease on this occasion. 

One can imagine then Eyam's shock when George Viccars, a visitor who had come to help the local tailor, died of plague on 7 September. The source of his infection seems to have lurked in a flea-infested bale of cloth that had arrived from London the previous week. The story goes that Viccars had opened the bale and hung it in front of the fireplace to dry, thus unwittingly exposing himself to aroused and hungry fleas. (Below: The Tailor's House)

The role of fleas in spreading plague was then unknown, and would not become accepted until more than 200 years later. Today, epidemiologists have determined that plague can also be spread by human to human contact, through coughing and sneezing. This explains how the disease could sometimes spread with great rapidity.

Five more people died before the end of September, but the epidemic had barely begun. By the end of the year the death toll was 42, and it got worse. Before it ended 14 months later, the village's population had been reduced by hundreds of souls. 

The exact number of deaths is uncertain, as is the population of Eyam at the time. The parish register lists 260 plague deaths, but some deaths may have gone unrecorded. Population estimates for Eyam in 1665 range from 350 to 800, with the latter figure including people who lived in nearby hamlets and farms.

Some families lost nearly all their members. Twelve people named Frith died, thirteen named Talbot. Elizabeth Hancock lost her husband and six of her children within eight days in August 1666. She buried them herself, while people from a nearby village looked on, fearing to become infected if they helped. The gravesite is now protected by the National Trust. 

What singles out Eyam, however, is not its death toll or remoteness. It is the courageous decision the villagers made early in 1666: they agreed to quarantine themselves from the outside world. Many of them had been thinking about fleeing, but in the end only a handful of people left, among them the local aristocratic family.
   
The idea of remaining and isolating themselves came from the parish rector, William Mompesson. Urging people to stay and risk death to save lives elsewhere would have been difficult for anyone, but Mompesson had a special handicap. Most of the villagers didn't like or trust him. (Image: William Mompesson)

Mompesson was a newcomer, having arrived in Eyam only the year before. Worse, he had replaced a popular rector, Thomas Stanley. During the Civil War (1642-49) and the Republic or Commonwealth (1649-1660), Stanley had supported the Puritans and Oliver Cromwell. So had most of Eyam's people. 

After the restoration of the monarchy under Charles II in 1660, Parliament passed an act that required the use of the Anglican Book of Common Prayer in the churches. The Puritan Stanley refused to to conform and was ejected from his position and house. When the plague broke out he was living as a recluse on the edge of the village. 

As the death toll from plague mounted, Mompesson reached out to the man he had replaced. Stanley agreed to promote the quarantine plan among the villagers. Most accepted it, however grudgingly, but the wealthiest family in the village left. 

The Earl of Devonshire, who lived at nearby Chatsworth, agreed to supply Eyam with food and other necessities during the period of isolation, as did others in the surrounding villages. 

Various markers, often large stones, were placed around the perimeter of the village to mark a boundary which no one from outside should enter and no one from Eyam should pass. The stone below is today called the Boundary Stone. The holes were drilled to hold coins. Eyam's villagers would put coins into them to pay for things people from other villages brought to them. They poured vinegar in the holes as well, believing it would disinfect the coins. (Image: Boundary Stone)

Mompesson's Well (below) as it is known today, was another place where villagers left coins to pay for food and medicines.   

Eyam's St. Lawrence's Church was closed for the duration of the plague. Religious services were held in a natural amphitheatre called Cucklett Delf. There, the residents could stand far apart from one another in hopes of stemming the infection.  

Cucklett Delf.

The precaution was reasonable, but the deaths continued to mount. August 1666 was the deadliest month, with 78 deaths, among them  Mompesson's wife Catherine, aged 27. She is buried in the village churchyard. Mompesson had the memorial below built for her.  

The disease finally receded in the autumn of 1666. It had probably burned itself out, having infected nearly everybody. The last victim died on November 1. 

The courageous decision to quarantine the village probably increased the death toll in Eyam, but it prevented the plague spreading to surrounding areas and killing far more. 

Stanley and Mompesson survived the ordeal. Stanley remained in Eyam until his death in 1670. Mompesson moved to another parish in 1669, where he was ostracised for a time by the residents, who had heard about the plague in Eyam and feared he might infect them. 


Further reading: Geraldine Brooks, Year of Wonders (2001). Novel about the plague in Eyam. Names have been changed and some incidents invented, but the novel provides a good sense of what the Eyam plague must have been like from the villagers' perspective.