A best-seller translated into 14 languages.
Showing posts with label coronavirus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label coronavirus. Show all posts
Sunday, November 22, 2020
This is what Trump's doctors read when he was in hospital
Monday, October 5, 2020
Hubris and hospitalization: Trump's nemesis is himself
Trump mocking Biden's mask-wearing at the first
presidential debate on Tuesday, September 29.
Tuesday, August 18, 2020
Incompetence as a Contagion
I have already compared this, our desire to worship incompetence, to an infectious disease. It has attacked the State at the very core, in its constitution, and it is not surprising that it is spreading rapidly to the customs and to the morals of the country.[1]
Émile Faguet, The Cult of Incompetence (1910)
[1] Émile Faguet, The Cult of Incompetence, tr. Beatrice Barstow (New York: E. P. Dutton, 1916), p. 123 [Bibliolife Reprint]. Originally published as Le Culte de l’Incompétence in 1910.
Thursday, August 6, 2020
Plato on Trump’s America: a tweet from Hellas
The excess of liberty, whether in States or individuals, seems only to pass into excess of slavery.
Plato, The Republic (c. 370 BC)[1]
Thursday, July 16, 2020
Boccaccio’s “The Decameron” on bubonic plague in Florence in 1348: an extended excerpt
I say, then, that the years [of the era] of the fruitful Incarnation of the Son of God had attained to the number of one thousand three hundred and forty-eight, when into the notable city of Florence, fair over every other of Italy, there came the death-dealing pestilence, which, through the operation of the heavenly bodies or of our own iniquitous dealings, being sent down upon mankind for our correction by the just wrath of God, had some years before appeared in the parts of the East and after having bereft these latter of an innumerable number of inhabitants, extending without cease from one place to another, had now unhappily spread towards the West. And thereagainst no wisdom availing nor human foresight (whereby the city was purged of many impurities by officers deputed to that end and it was forbidden unto any sick person to enter therein and many were the counsels given for the preservation of health) nor yet humble supplications, not once but many times both in ordered processions and on other wise made unto God by devout persons,—about the coming in of the Spring of the aforesaid year, it began on horrible and miraculous wise to show forth its dolorous effects. Yet not as it had done in the East, where, if any bled at the nose, it was a manifest sign of inevitable death; nay, but in men and women alike there appeared, at the beginning of the malady, certain swellings, either on the groin or under the armpits, whereof some waxed of the bigness of a common apple, others like unto an egg, some more and some less, and these the vulgar named plague-boils. From these two parts the aforesaid death-bearing plague-boils proceeded, in brief space, to appear and come indifferently in every part of the body; wherefrom, after awhile, the fashion of the contagion began to change into black or livid blotches, which showed themselves in many [first] on the arms and about the thighs and [after spread to] every other part of the person, in some large and sparse and in others small and thick-sown; and like as the plague-boils had been first (and yet were) a very certain token of coming death, even so were these for every one to whom they came.
To the cure of these maladies nor counsel of physician nor virtue of any medicine appeared
to avail or profit aught; on the contrary,—whether it was that the nature of
the infection suffered it not or that the ignorance of the physicians (of whom,
over and above the men of art, the number, both men and women, who had never
had any teaching of medicine, was become exceeding great,) availed not to know
whence it arose and consequently took not due measures thereagainst,—not only
did few recover thereof, but well nigh all died within the third day from the
appearance of the aforesaid signs, this sooner and that later, and for the most
part without fever or other accident. And this
pestilence was the more virulent for that, by communication with those who were
sick thereof, it gat hold upon the sound, no otherwise than fire upon things
dry or greasy, whenas they are brought very near thereunto. Nay, the mischief
was yet greater; for that not only did converse and consortion with the sick
give to the sound infection of cause of common death, but the mere touching of
the clothes or of whatsoever other thing had been touched or used of the sick
appeared of itself to communicate the malady to the toucher. A marvellous thing
to hear is that which I have to tell and one which, had it not been seen of
many men's eyes and of mine own, I had scarce dared credit, much less set down
in writing, though I had heard it from one worthy of belief. I say, then, that
of such efficience was the nature of the pestilence in question in
communicating itself from one to another, that, not only did it pass from man
to man, but this, which is much more, it many times visibly did;—to wit, a
thing which had pertained to a man sick or dead of the aforesaid sickness,
being touched by an animal foreign to the human species, not only infected
this latter with the plague, but in a very brief space of time killed it. Of
this mine own eyes (as hath a little before been said) had one day, among
others, experience on this wise; to wit, that the rags of a poor man, who had
died of the plague, being cast out into the public way, two hogs came up to
them and having first, after their wont, rooted amain among them with their
snouts, took them in their mouths and tossed them about their jaws; then, in a
little while, after turning round and round, they both, as if they had taken
poison, fell down dead upon the rags with which they had in an ill hour
intermeddled.
From these things and many others like
unto them or yet stranger divers fears and conceits were begotten in those who
abode alive, which well nigh all tended to a very barbarous conclusion, namely,
to shun and flee from the sick and all that pertained to them, and thus doing,
each thought to secure immunity for himself. Some there were who conceived that
to live moderately and keep oneself from all excess was the best defence
against such a danger; wherefore, making up their company, they lived removed
from every other and shut themselves up in those houses where none had been
sick and where living was best; and there, using very temperately of the most
delicate viands and the finest wines and eschewing all incontinence, they abode
with music and such other diversions as they might have, never suffering
themselves to speak with any nor choosing to hear any news from without of
death or sick folk. Others, inclining to the contrary opinion, maintained that
to carouse and make merry and go about singing and frolicking and satisfy the
appetite in everything possible and laugh and scoff at whatsoever befell was a
very certain remedy for such an ill. That which they said they put in practice
as best they might, going about day and night, now to this tavern, now to that,
drinking without stint or measure; and on this wise they did yet more freely in
other folk's houses, so but they scented there aught that liked or tempted
them, as they might lightly do, for that every one—as he were to live no
longer—had abandoned all care of his possessions, as of himself, wherefore the
most part of the houses were become common good and strangers used them, whenas
they happened upon them, like as the very owner might have done; and with all
this bestial preoccupation, they still shunned the sick to the best of their
power.
In this sore affliction and misery of our
city, the reverend authority of the laws, both human and divine, was all in a
manner dissolved and fallen into decay, for [lack of] the ministers and
executors thereof, who, like other men, were all either dead or sick or else
left so destitute of followers that they were unable to exercise any office,
wherefore every one had license to do whatsoever pleased him. Many others held
a middle course between the two aforesaid, not straitening themselves so
exactly in the matter of diet as the first neither allowing themselves such
license in drinking and other debauchery as the second, but using things in
sufficiency, according to their appetites; nor did they seclude themselves, but
went about, carrying in their hands, some flowers, some odoriferous herbs and
other some divers kinds of spiceries,[1] which
they set often to their noses, accounting it an excellent thing to fortify the
brain with such odours, more by token that the air seemed all heavy and
attainted with the stench of the dead bodies and that of the sick and of the
remedies used.
Some were of a more barbarous, though,
peradventure, a surer way of thinking, avouching that there was no remedy against
pestilences better than—no, nor any so good as—to flee before them; wherefore,
moved by this reasoning and recking of nought but themselves, very many, both
men and women, abandoned their own city, their own houses and homes, their
kinsfolk and possessions, and sought the country seats of others, or, at the
least, their own, as if the wrath of God, being moved to punish the iniquity of
mankind, would not proceed to do so wheresoever they might be, but would
content itself with afflicting those only who were found within the walls of
their city, or as if they were persuaded that no person was to remain therein
and that its last hour was come. And albeit these, who opined thus variously,
died not all, yet neither did they all escape; nay, many of each way of
thinking and in every place sickened of the plague and languished on all sides,
well nigh abandoned, having themselves, what while they were whole, set the
example to those who abode in health.
Indeed, leaving be that townsman avoided
townsman and that well nigh no neighbour took thought unto other and that
kinsfolk seldom or never visited one another and held no converse together save
from afar, this tribulation had stricken such terror to the hearts of all, men
and women alike, that brother forsook brother, uncle nephew and sister brother
and oftentimes wife husband; nay (what is yet more extraordinary and well nigh
incredible) fathers and mothers refused to visit or tend their very children,
as they had not been theirs. By reason whereof there remained unto those (and
the number of them, both males and females, was incalculable) who fell sick,
none other succour than that which they owed either to the charity of friends
(and of these there were few) or the greed of servants, who tended them, allured
by high and extravagant wage; albeit, for all this, these latter were not grown
many, and those men and women of mean understanding and for the most part
unused to such offices, who served for well nigh nought but to reach things
called for by the sick or to note when they died; and in the doing of these
services many of them perished with their gain.
Of this abandonment of the sick by
neighbours, kinsfolk and friends and of the scarcity of servants arose an usage
before well nigh unheard, to wit, that no woman, how fair or lovesome or
well-born soever she might be, once fallen sick, recked aught of having a man
to tend her, whatever he might be, or young or old, and without any shame
discovered to him every part of her body, no otherwise than she would have done
to a woman, so but the necessity of her sickness required it; the which belike,
in those who recovered, was the occasion of lesser modesty in time to come.
Moreover, there ensued of this abandonment the death of many who peradventure, had they been succoured,
would have escaped alive; wherefore, as well for the lack of the opportune
services which the sick availed not to have as for the virulence of the plague,
such was the multitude of those who died in the city by day and by night that
it was an astonishment to hear tell thereof, much more to see it; and thence,
as it were of necessity, there sprang up among those who abode alive things
contrary to the pristine manners of the townsfolk.
It was then (even as we yet see it used) a
custom that the kinswomen and she-neighbours of the dead should assemble in his
house and there condole with those who more nearly pertained unto him, whilst
his neighbours and many other citizens foregathered with his next of kin before
his house, whither, according to the dead man's quality, came the clergy, and
he with funeral pomp of chants and candles was borne on the shoulders of his
peers to the church chosen by himself before his death; which usages, after the
virulence of the plague began to increase, were either altogether or for the
most part laid aside, and other and strange customs sprang up in their stead.
For that, not only did folk die without having a multitude of women about them,
but many there were who departed this life without witness and few indeed were
they to whom the pious plaints and bitter tears of their kinsfolk were
vouchsafed; nay, in lieu of these things there obtained, for the most part,
laughter and jests and gibes and feasting and merrymaking in company; which
usance women, laying aside womanly pitifulness, had right well learned for
their own safety.
Few, again, were they whose bodies were
accompanied to the church by more than half a score or a dozen of their
neighbours, and of these no worshipful and illustrious citizens, but a sort of
blood-suckers, sprung from the dregs of the people, who styled themselves pickmen [2]
and did such offices for hire, shouldered the bier and bore it with hurried
steps, not to that church which the dead man had chosen before his death, but
most times to the nearest, behind five or six priests,
with little light and whiles none at all,
which latter, with the aid of the said pickmen, thrust him into what grave
soever they first found unoccupied, without troubling themselves with too long
or too formal a service.
Boccaccio, The Decameron (1353)[3]
[1] i.e. aromatic drugs
[2] i.e. gravediggers.
[3] Giovanni Boccaccio, The Decameron, tr. John Payne (New York: Walter J. Black, nd). Project Gutenberg E-book. Excerpted from “Day the First”.
Thucydides and the plague in Athens
They
had not been there many days when the plague broke out at Athens for the first
time. A similar disorder is said to have previously smitten many places,
particularly Lemnos, but there is no record of such a pestilence occurring
elsewhere, or of so great a destruction of human life. For a while
physicians, in ignorance of the nature of the disease, sought to apply
remedies; but it was in vain, and they themselves were among the first
victims, because they oftenest came into contact with it. No human art was
of any avail, and as to supplications in temples, enquiries of oracles, and the
like, they were utterly useless, and at last men were overpowered by the
calamity and gave them all up.
The
disease is said to have begun south of Egypt in Aethiopia; thence it descended
into Egypt and Libya, and after spreading over the greater part of the
Persian empire, suddenly fell upon Athens. It first attacked the
inhabitants of the Piraeus, and it was supposed that the Peloponnesians had
poisoned the cisterns, no conduits having as yet been made there. It
afterwards reached the upper city, and then the mortality became far greater. As
to its probable origin or the causes which might or could have produced such a
disturbance of nature, every man, whether a physician or not, will give his own
opinion. But I shall describe its actual course, and the symptoms by which
any one who knows them beforehand may recognize the disorder should it ever
reappear. For I was myself attacked, and witnessed the sufferings of others.
The
season was admitted to have been remarkably free from ordinary sickness; and if
anybody was already ill of any other disease, it was absorbed in this. Many
who were in perfect health, all in a moment, and without any apparent reason,
were seized with violent heats in the head and with redness and inflammation of
the eyes. Internally the throat and the tongue were quickly suffused with
blood, and the breath became unnatural and fetid. There followed sneezing
and hoarseness; in a short time the disorder, accompanied by a violent
cough, reached the chest; then fastening lower down, it would move the stomach
and bring on all the vomits of bile to which physicians have ever given names;
and they were very distressing. An ineffectual retching producing violent
convulsions attacked most of the sufferers; some as soon as the previous
symptoms had abated, others not until long afterwards. The body externally
was not so very hot to the touch, nor yet pale; it was of a livid colour
inclining to red, and breaking out in pustules and ulcers. But the
internal fever was intense; the sufferers could not bear to have on them even
the finest linen garment; they insisted on being naked, and there was nothing
which they longed for more eagerly than to throw themselves into cold
water. And many of those who had no one to look after them actually
plunged into the cisterns, for they were tormented by unceasing thirst, which
was not in the least assuaged whether they drank little or much. They
could not sleep; a restlessness which was intolerable never left
them. While the disease was at its height the body, instead of wasting
away, held out amid these sufferings in a marvellous manner, and either they
died on the seventh or ninth day, not of weakness, for their strength was not
exhausted, but of internal fever, which was the end of most; or, if they
survived, then the disease descended into the bowels and there produced violent
ulceration; severe diarrhoea at the same time set in, and at a later stage
caused exhaustion, which finally with few exceptions carried them off. For
the disorder which had originally settled in the head passed gradually through
the whole body, and, if a person got over the worst, would often seize the
extremities and leave its mark, attacking the privy parts and the fingers and
the toes; and some escaped with the loss of these, some with the loss of
their eyes. Some again had no sooner recovered than they were seized with
a forgetfulness of all things and knew neither themselves nor their friends.
The
general character of the malady no words can describe, and the fury with which
it fastened upon each sufferer was too much for human nature to
endure. There was one circumstance in particular which distinguished it
from ordinary diseases. The birds and animals which feed on human flesh,
although so many bodies were lying unburied, either never came near them, or
died if they touched them. This was proved by a remarkable disappearance
of the birds of prey, which were not to be seen either about the bodies or
anywhere else; while in the case of the dogs the result was even more obvious,
because they live with man.
Such was
the general nature of the disease: I omit many strange peculiarities which
characterised individual cases. None of the ordinary sicknesses
attacked any one while it lasted, or, if they did, they ended in the
plague. Some of the sufferers died from want of care, others equally who
were receiving the greatest attention. No single remedy could be
deemed a specific; for that which did good to one did harm to another. No
constitution was of itself strong enough to resist or weak enough to escape the
attacks; the disease carried off all alike and defied every mode of
treatment. Most appalling was the despondency which seized upon any one who
felt himself sickening; for he instantly abandoned his mind to despair
and, instead of holding out, absolutely threw away his chance of
life. Appalling too was the rapidity with which men caught the
infection; dying like sheep if they attended on one another; and this was the
principal cause of mortality. When they were afraid to visit one another,
the sufferers died in their solitude, so that many houses were empty because
there had been no one left to take care of the sick; or if they ventured
they perished, especially those who aspired to heroism. For they went to
see their friends without thought of themselves and were ashamed to leave them,
at a time when the very relations of the dying were at last growing weary and
ceased even to make lamentations, overwhelmed by the vastness of the
calamity. But whatever instances there may have been of such
devotion, more often the sick and the dying were tended by the pitying care of
those who had recovered, because they knew the course of the disease and were themselves
free from apprehension. For no one was ever attacked a second time, or not
with a fatal result. All men congratulated them, and they themselves, in
the excess of their joy at the moment, had an innocent fancy that they could
not die of any other sickness.
The
crowding of the people out of the country into the city aggravated the misery;
and the newly-arrived
suffered most. For, having no houses of their own, but inhabiting in the
height of summer stifling huts, the mortality among them was dreadful, and they
perished in wild disorder. The dead lay as they had died, one upon
another, while others hardly alive wallowed in the streets and crawled
about every fountain craving for water. The temples in which they lodged
were full of the corpses of those who died in them; for the violence of
the calamity was such that men, not knowing where to turn, grew reckless of all
law, human and divine. The customs which had hitherto been observed
at funerals were universally violated, and they buried their dead each one as
best he could. Many, having no proper appliances, because the deaths
in their household had been so numerous already, lost all shame in the burial
of the dead. When one man had raised a funeral pile, others would come,
and throwing on their dead first, set fire to it; or when some other corpse was
already burning, before they could be stopped, would throw their own dead upon
it and depart.
There
were other and worse forms of lawlessness which the plague introduced at
Athens. Men who had hitherto concealed what they took pleasure in, now
grew bolder. For, seeing the sudden change,—how the rich died in a moment,
and those who had nothing immediately inherited their property,—they reflected
that life and riches were alike transitory, and they resolved to enjoy
themselves while they could, and to think only of pleasure. Who would be
willing to sacrifice himself to the law of honour when he knew not whether he
would ever live to be held in honour? The pleasure of the moment and any
sort of thing which conduced to it took the place both of honour and of
expediency. No fear of Gods or law of man deterred a criminal. Those
who saw all perishing alike, thought that the worship or neglect of the Gods
made no difference. For offences against human law no punishment was to be
feared; no one would live long enough to be called to account. Already a
far heavier sentence had been passed and was hanging over a man's head; before
that fell, why should he not take a little pleasure?
[1] Thucydides, History of the Peloponnesian Wars, ed. Benjamin Jowett. Perseus
Digital Library. Tufts University. Book II, 47-53.
Montaigne on the loathsomeness of liars
Experience has often shown me that – amusingly so, at the expense of those kinds of men whose profession is never to utter a word without trimming it to suit whatever business is being negotiated at the time, thereby pleasing the great ones with whom they are speaking. Such men are prepared to make their honour and conscience slaves to present circumstances: but circumstances are liable to frequent change, and their work must vary with them. They are obliged to call the very same thing first grey then yellow, saying one thing to this man, quite another to another. If the persons, who receive such contrary advice happens to compare their haul, what becomes of their fine diplomacy? ….
Lying is an accursed vice. It is only our words which bind us together
and make us human. If we realized the
horror and weight of lying we would see that it is more worthy of the stake
than other crimes. I find that people
normally waste time quite inappropriately punishing children for innocent
misdemeanors, tormenting them for thoughtless actions which lead nowhere and
leave no trace. It seems to me that the
only faults which we should vigorously attack as soon as they arise and start
to develop are lying and, a little below that, stubbornness. These faults grow up with the children. Once let the tongue acquire the habit of
lying and it is astonishing how impossible it is to make it give up. That is why some otherwise decent men are abject
slaves to it. One of my tailors is a
good enough fellow, but I have never heard him speak the truth, not even when
it would help him if he did so. …
I cannot guarantee that I could bring myself to
tell a solemn, bare-faced lie, even to ward off some obvious and immense
danger. One of the old Church Fathers
says that even a dog we do know is better company than a man whose language we
do not know. … How much less companionable than silence is the language of
falsehood. [1]
Montaigne, Essays (1582)
[1] Michel de Montaigne, The Complete Essays, tr. M.A. Screech (Toronto: Penguin,
2003), pp. 34, 35.
Thursday, July 9, 2020
“Wuhan Diary”: A Book Review
Wuhan Diary is celebrated Chinese writer Fang Fang’s 60-entry-account of lockdown in her native city, epicenter of the novel coronavirus outbreak.[1] The Diary was originally published online daily on microblogging sites Weibo and WeChat, and it attracted millions of followers, though her own access to the latter was blocked after the death of famed ophthalmologist, Dr. Li Wenliang. The Diary has since been translated from the Chinese and is available to e-readers, also recently published in book form by HarperCollins. It runs from January 25 to March 24, 2020.
The Diary gives readers great insight as to how uncompromising the lockdown was for the people in Wuhan in particular, for example: one man placed on quarantine was forced to abandon his disabled son resulting in the latter’s death by starvation. In another incident, hospital workers and patients were required to sing patriotically, while officials remained apparently oblivious to the fact that the coronavirus is a pneumonic disease affecting the lungs.
But Fang
Fang also reveals the apparent degree of complacency in the three week period of the
outbreak prior to writing, which included concealment and its close cousin, censorship. Officials repeatedly touted the line that it
was “not contagious” and even “preventable”, and the author reminds the reader
of this throughout, along with calls for accountability for their malfeasance. A conference of some 40,000 people went ahead
in this same “lax” period, and, according to the Mayor of Wuhan, about 5
million people vacated the metropolis in advance of the Lunar New Year. No wonder the virus spread beyond China’s
borders.
Elsewhere
the author remarks how on how Chinese abroad rallied to the cause (likely also
prompted by the United Front, a product of President Xi’s machinations for
overseas influence), and cleaned out store supplies of Personal Protective Equipment
(PPE) in their respective countries to send back to China. Being a humanitarian, Fang Fang notes with perplexed
sadness how the virus spread beyond China’s borders resulting in a shortage of
PPE’s in the very countries from which these supplies first came. One wonders, however, if President Xi’s
decision to continue with air travel between China and the rest of the world
was motivated, in part, by a less than benevolent desire to monopolize these materials.
Wuhan Diary is a valuable account by a singular writer, and it is important to read to get a flavor of China under President Xi, under lockdown, and under quarantine. One can appreciate Michael Berry’s predicament of translating a month behind Fang Fang’s real-time entries while coronavirus events are catching up to him in Los Angeles, where he is based. Surely, if we had all read the Diary from the start we too would know to look out for our seniors in their care homes and our prison population. But one finds a degree of naïveté with the undertaking: why publish with HarperCollins, which is owned by Rupert Murdoch, who also owns Fox News? Aside from - or because of - her acclaim, Fang Fang also has countless online domestic detractors (left wing nationalists), and this will only continue – and get worse – given knowledge of the choice of publisher. Surely the translator could have been a bit more sensitive to Fang Fang’s plight, helping to guide her to a different publisher.
In the end,
Fang Fang waxes most philosophically – to Western readers, at least – when she
compares waiting for the lockdown to lift with Waiting for Godot: it never seems to happen. Sadly, the reference seems more pertinent
these days for those of us outside of China.
[1] Fang Fang, Wuhan Diary: Dispatches from a Quarantined City, tr. Michael Berry
New York: HarperVia, 15 May 2020.
Sunday, May 3, 2020
Samuel Pepys’ “Diary” and the Great Plague of London in 1665: Selections
Samuel Pepys (1633-1703) was
England’s Chief Secretary to the Admiralty during the reigns of both Charles II
and James II. He was important for his
major role in building its navy – and Empire, which ultimately came to rule one
quarter of the world.[1]. But Pepys the historical figure was largely
forgotten until 1825 when a major portion of his Diary was transcribed and published, bringing to attention nine
significant years of his life, from January 1659 until May 1669, when owing to
fears that he was losing his vision, he stopped writing. Today historians mine the Diary for its first-hand accounts of the
Great Plague of London in 1665, its depiction of the Great Fire that ravaged
the same city in 1666, and for his sexual secrets, making it a great source on
gender relations. Pepys was, as an early biographer put it: “a man licentious
in thought and deed, an unfaithful husband and a seducer.”[2]
Below is an extensive
selection from Pepys’ Diary from the
plague year. One might imagine that
Pepys was miserable in 1665. Of course,
he feared death and took precautions, for example, by sending his
long-suffering wife away to Woolwich on July 5th, but as he noted in
his Diary of December 31st:
“I have never lived so merrily (besides that I never got so much) as I have done
this plague time.”[3]
The same entry for December also reveals
that he increased the value of his Estate almost three-fold that year. Readers are invited to follow some of his
thoughts as events unfolded, as well as his libidinous ways.
June 1665
10th. Lay long in bed, and then up and at the office all
the morning. At noon dined at home, and
then to the office busy all the afternoon.
In the evening home to supper; and there, to my great trouble, hear that
the plague is come into the City (though it hath these three or four weeks
since its beginning been wholly out of the City); but where should it begin but
in my good friend and neighbour’s, Dr. Burnett, in Fanchurch Street: which in
both points troubles me mightily. To the
office to finish my letters and then home to bed, being troubled at the
sicknesse, and my head filled also with other business enough, and particularly
how to put my things and estate in order, in case it should please God to call
me away, which God dispose of at his glory!
17th…. It struck me very deep this afternoon going
with a hackney coach from my Lord Treasurer’s down Holborne, the coachman I
found to drive easily and easily, at last stood still, and come down hardly
able to stand, and told me that he was suddenly struck very sicke, and almost blind,
he could not see; so I ‘light and went into another coach, with a sad heart for
the poor man and trouble for myself, lest he should have been struck with the
plague, being at the end of the towne that I took him up; but God have mercy
upon us all! Sir John Lawson, I hear, is worse than yesterday: the King went to
see him to-day most kindly. It seems his wound is not very bad; but he hath a
fever, a thrush, and a hickup, all three together, which are, it seems, very
bad symptoms.
18th (Lord’s day). Up, and to church, where Sir W. Pen was the
first time [since he] come from sea, after the battle. Mr. Mills made a sorry
sermon to prove that there was a world to come after this. Home and dined and
then to my chamber, where all the afternoon. Anon comes Mr. Andrews to see and
sing with me, but Mr. Hill not coming, and having business, we soon parted,
there coming Mr. Povy and Creed to discourse about our Tangier business of
money. They gone, I hear Sir W. Batten and my Lady are returned from Harwich. I
went to see them, and it is pretty to see how we appear kind one to another,
though neither of us care 2d. one for another. Home to supper, and there coming
a hasty letter from Commissioner Pett for pressing of some calkers (as I would
ever on his Majesty’s service), with all speed, I made a warrant presently and
issued it. So to my office a little, and then home to bed.
21st. … So homewards and to the Cross Keys at
Cripplegate, where I find all the towne almost going out of towne, the coaches
and waggons being all full of people going into the country. Here I had some of
the company of the tapster’s wife a while, and so home to my office, and then
home to supper and to bed.
July 1665
20th. Up, in a boat among other people to the Tower, and there to the
office, where we sat all the morning. So down to Deptford and there dined, and
after dinner saw my Lady Sandwich and Mr. Carteret and his two sisters over the
water, going to Dagenhams, and my Lady Carteret towards Cranburne ….
So all the company broke up in most extraordinary joy, wherein I am
mighty contented that I have had the good fortune to be so instrumental, and I
think it will be of good use to me. So walked to Redriffe, where I hear the
sickness is, and indeed is scattered almost every where, there dying 1089 of
the plague this week. My Lady Carteret did this day give me a bottle of
plague-water home with me. So home to write letters late, and then home to bed,
where I have not lain these 3 or 4 nights. I received yesterday a letter from
my Lord Sandwich, giving me thanks for my care about their marriage business,
and desiring it to be dispatched, that no disappointment may happen therein,
which I will help on all I can. This afternoon I waited on the Duke of
Albemarle, and so to Mrs. Croft’s, where I found and saluted Mrs. Burrows, who
is a very pretty woman for a mother of so many children. But, Lord! to see how
the plague spreads. It being now all over King’s Streete, at the Axe, and next
door to it, and in other places.
30th (Lord’s day). Up, and in
my night gowne, cap and neckcloth, undressed all day long, lost not a minute,
but in my chamber, setting my Tangier accounts to rights. Which I did by night
to my very heart’s content, not only that it is done, but I find every thing
right, and even beyond what, after so long neglecting them, I did hope for. The
Lord of Heaven be praised for it! Will was with me to-day, and is very well
again. It was a sad noise to hear our bell to toll and ring so often to-day,
either for deaths or burials; I think five or six times. At night weary with my
day’s work, but full of joy at my having done it, I to bed, being to rise
betimes tomorrow to go to the wedding at Dagenhams. So to bed, fearing I have
got some cold sitting in my loose garments all this day.
31st. … At night to supper, and so to
talk; and which, methought, was the most extraordinary thing, all of us to
prayers as usual, and the young bride and bridegroom too and so after prayers,
soberly to bed; only I got into the bridegroom’s chamber while he undressed
himself, and there was very merry, till he was called to the bride’s chamber,
and into bed they went. I kissed the
bride in bed, and so the curtaines drawne with the greatest gravity that could
be, and so good night. But the modesty
and gravity of the business was so decent, that it was to me indeed ten times
more delightfull that if it had been twenty times more merry and joviall ….
August 1665
3rd. … By and by met my Lord Crew returning, after having accompanied
them a little way, and so after them, Mr. Marr telling me by the way how a
mayde servant of Mr. John Wright’s (who lives thereabouts) falling sick of the
plague, she was removed to an out-house, and a nurse appointed to look to her;
who, being once absent, the mayde got out of the house at the window, and run
away. The nurse coming and knocking, and having no answer, believed she was
dead, and went and told Mr. Wright so; who and his lady were in great strait
what to do to get her buried. At last resolved to go to Burntwood hard by,
being in the parish, and there get people to do it. But they would not; so he
went home full of trouble, and in the way met the wench walking over the
common, which frighted him worse than before; and was forced to send people to
take her, which he did; and they got one of the pest coaches and put her into
it to carry her to a pest house. And passing in a narrow lane, Sir Anthony
Browne, with his brother and some friends in the coach, met this coach with the
curtains drawn close. The brother being a young man, and believing there might
be some lady in it that would not be seen, and the way being narrow, he thrust
his head out of his own into her coach, and to look, and there saw somebody
look very ill, and in a sick dress, and stunk mightily; which the coachman also
cried out upon. And presently they come up to some people that stood looking
after it, and told our gallants that it was a mayde of Mr. Wright’s carried
away sick of the plague; which put the young gentleman into a fright had almost
cost him his life, but is now well again. …
4th. Up at five o’clock, and by six walked out alone, with my Lady
Slanning, to the Docke Yard, where walked up and down, and so to Mr. Pett’s,
who led us into his garden, and there the lady, the best humoured woman in the
world, and a devout woman (I having spied her on her knees half an houre this
morning in her chamber), clambered up to the top of the banquetting-house to
gather nuts, and mighty merry, and so walked back again through the new rope
house, which is very usefull; and so to the Hill-house to breakfast and mighty
merry.
15th. Up by 4 o’clock and walked to Greenwich, where called
at Captain Cocke’s and to his chamber, he being in bed, where something put my
last night’s dream into my head, which I think is the best that ever was
dreamt, which was that I had my Lady Castlemayne in my armes and was admitted
to use all the dalliance I desired with her, and then dreamt that this could not
be awake, but that it was only a dream; but since it was a dream, and that I
took so much real pleasure in it, what a happy thing it would be if when we are
in our graves (as Shakespeere resembles it) we could dream, and dream but such
dreams as this, that when we should not need to be so fearful of death, as we
are this plague time. …
December 1665
31st (Lord’s day). … Thus ends this year, to my great joy, in this
manner. I have raised my estate from £1300 in this year to £4400. I have got
myself greater interest, I think, by my diligence, and my employments encreased
by that of Treasurer for Tangier, and Surveyour of the Victualls. It is true we
have gone through great melancholy because of the great plague, and I put to
great charges by it, by keeping my family long at Woolwich, and myself and
another part of my family, my clerks, at my charge at Greenwich, and a mayde at
London; but I hope the King will give us some satisfaction for that. But now
the plague is abated almost to nothing, and I intending to get to London as
fast as I can. My family, that is my wife and maids, having been there these
two or three weeks. The Dutch war goes on very ill, by reason of lack of money;
having none to hope for, all being put into disorder by a new Act that is made
as an experiment to bring credit to the Exchequer, for goods and money to be
advanced upon the credit of that Act. I have never lived so merrily (besides
that I never got so much) as I have done this plague time, by my Lord
Bruncker’s and Captain Cocke’s good company, and the acquaintance of Mrs.
Knipp, Coleman and her husband, and Mr. Laneare, and great store of dancings we
have had at my cost (which I was willing to indulge myself and wife) at my
lodgings.….
My whole family hath been well all this while, and all my friends I know
of, saving my aunt Bell, who is dead, and some children of my cozen Sarah’s, of
the plague. But many of such as I know very well, dead; yet, to our great joy,
the town fills apace, and shops begin to be open again. Pray God continue the
plague’s decrease! for that keeps the Court away from the place of business,
and so all goes to rack as to publick matters, they at this distance not
thinking of it.
Samuel Pepys Diary (from 1865)[4]
[4] Source: Project Gutenberg Diary of Samuel Pepys, Complete, last
updated August 9, 2016. Cf. Samuel Pepys, Diary
of Samuel Pepys, Complete, transcribed by Rev. Bright, ed. Harry B. Wheatley
(London: George Bell, 1893).
Friday, May 1, 2020
“Bring out your dead!” Daniel Defoe’s “A Journal of the Plague Year” - An Excerpt
Daniel
Defoe’s A Journal of the Plague Year
was written in the course of a plague as it engulfed Europe in 1721. It brought
back memories of the Great Plague of 1665 in his youth (at age 5), which he
undertook to recreate imaginatively, using a number of documented sources that
were still available during his time of writing. There remains a possibility, according to
J.H. Plumb, that he did so while in the pay of the government of the day.[1]
As I went along Houndsditch one morning about eight o’clock
there was a great noise. It is true, indeed, there was not much crowd, because
people were not very free to gather together, or to stay long together when
they were there; nor did I stay long there. But the outcry was loud enough to
prompt my curiosity, and I called to one that looked out of a window, and asked
what was the matter.
A watchman, it seems, had been employed to keep his post at
the door of a house which was infected, or said to be infected, and was shut
up. He had been there all night for two nights together, as he told his story,
and the day-watchman had been there one day, and was now come to relieve him.
All this while no noise had been heard in the house, no light had been seen;
they called for nothing, sent him of no errands, which used to be the chief
business of the watchmen; neither had they given him any disturbance, as he
said, from the Monday afternoon, when he heard great crying and screaming in
the house, which, as he supposed, was occasioned by some of the family dying
just at that time. It seems, the night before, the dead-cart, as it was called,
had been stopped there, and a servant-maid had been brought down to the door
dead, and the buriers or bearers, as they were called, put her into the cart,
wrapt only in a green rug, and carried her away.
The watchman had knocked at the door, it seems, when he
heard that noise and crying, as above, and nobody answered a great while; but
at last one looked out and said with an angry, quick tone, and yet a kind of
crying voice, or a voice of one that was crying, ‘What d’ye want, that ye make
such a knocking?’ He answered, ‘I am the watchman! How do you do? What is the
matter?’ The person answered, ‘What is that to you? Stop the dead-cart.’ This,
it seems, was about one o’clock. Soon after, as the fellow said, he stopped the
dead-cart, and then knocked again, but nobody answered. He continued knocking,
and the bellman called out several times, ‘Bring out your dead’; but nobody
answered, till the man that drove the cart, being called to other houses, would
stay no longer, and drove away.
The watchman knew not what to make of all this, so he let
them alone till the morning-man or day-watchman, as they called him, came to
relieve him. Giving him an account of the particulars, they knocked at the door
a great while, but nobody answered; and they observed that the window or
casement at which the person had looked out who had answered before continued
open, being up two pair of stairs.
Upon this the two men, to satisfy their curiosity, got a
long ladder, and one of them went up to the window and looked into the room,
where he saw a woman lying dead upon the floor in a dismal manner, having no
clothes on her but her shift. But though he called aloud, and putting in his
long staff, knocked hard on the floor, yet nobody stirred or answered; neither
could he hear any noise in the house.
He came down again upon this, and acquainted his fellow,
who went up also; and finding it just so, they resolved to acquaint either the
Lord Mayor or some other magistrate of it, but did not offer to go in at the
window. The magistrate, it seems, upon the information of the two men, ordered
the house to be broke open, a constable and other persons being appointed to be
present, that nothing might be plundered; and accordingly it was so done, when
nobody was found in the house but that young woman, who having been infected
and past recovery, the rest had left her to die by herself, and were every one
gone, having found some way to delude the watchman, and to get open the door,
or get out at some back-door, or over the tops of the houses, so that he knew
nothing of it; and as to those cries and shrieks which he heard, it was
supposed they were the passionate cries of the family at the bitter parting,
which, to be sure, it was to them all, this being the sister to the mistress of
the family. The man of the house, his wife, several children, and servants,
being all gone and fled, whether sick or sound, that I could never learn; nor,
indeed, did I make much inquiry after it.
Many such escapes were made out of infected houses, as
particularly when the watchman was sent of some errand; for it was his business
to go of any errand that the family sent him of; that is to say, for
necessaries, such as food and physic; to fetch physicians, if they would come,
or surgeons, or nurses, or to order the dead-cart, and the like; but with this
condition, too, that when he went he was to lock up the outer door of the house
and take the key away with him, To evade this, and cheat the watchmen, people
got two or three keys made to their locks, or they found ways to unscrew the
locks such as were screwed on, and so take off the lock, being in the inside of
the house, and while they sent away the watchman to the market, to the
bakehouse, or for one trifle or another, open the door and go out as often as
they pleased. But this being found out, the officers afterwards had orders to
padlock up the doors on the outside, and place bolts on them as they thought
fit.
Daniel Defoe, A Journal of the Plague Year (1722)[2]
[1] See: Foreward by J.H. Plumb in Daniel Defoe, A Journal of the Plague Year (New York:
The New American Library/ Signet Classic, 1960), pp. v-x.
[2] Source: the above
excerpt is from The Project Gutenberg E-book of A Journal of the Plague Year.
For comparable page references see Daniel Defoe, A Journal of the
Plague Year (New York: The New American Library/ Signet Classic, 1960), pp.
55-57.
Tuesday, April 21, 2020
Self-Isolation Reading List for China Watchers: From Mao to Trump. Review of "Two Tears on the Window" and "Claws of the Panda"
As we
practice self-isolation and social distancing in Canada and around the world,
let us not forget diplomat-on-leave Michael Kovrig and businessman Michael
Spavor, who have been detained in a tit-for-tat move by China for the past 16 months, the last 3 of
which without consular access
allegedly because of the Covid-19 pandemic: no visitors allowed. Wrongful imprisonment at the hands of
Communist authorities, with the prison lights on in their cells for 24 hours a
day, accompanied by daily interrogations, may be hard to fathom, especially
when Meng Wanzhou, the Huawei CFO, traipses around her Vancouver mansion
encumbered only by an ankle bracelet.
However, ‘the
two Michaels’ are not the only Canadians ever to run afoul of China’s so-called
“rule of law”, where the Communist Party is accountable to no one. We also have the example of Kevin and Julia
Garratt, two missionaries who ran a coffee shop on China’s border with North
Korea at the Yalu River in Dandong. They
‘disappeared’ - she for 6 months, he for 775 days – in a chess game of sorts,
after Canada accused the Chinese of hacking the National Research Council, and
following the arrest of a Chinese spy by Canada at the behest of the United
States.[1]
The ordeal and suffering of ‘the two
Garratts’ – and their devastating sense of isolation – is recounted in Two Tears on the Window, a book I
recommend for anyone who wants a compelling description of psychological
struggle at the hands of China’s Ministry of State Security.
The
Garratts endured because of their evident faith and because of their love – and
because they had each other: in their first six months, for example, when both
were in isolation at the same facility, they would sometimes have the
opportunity to leave messages in the snow in their all too brief outdoor
exercise sessions. But after she was
released Julia remained isolated in her apartment, and Kevin continued to
suffer mentally and deteriorate physically, always reinventing hope in his
“black prison” – a for-profit venture, where relatives were expected to pay for
inmate food expenses, none of it nutritious or palatable. Despite the grim storyline, there are
generous streaks of humour to the narrative, for instance Kevin’s exuberance
upon eating the best meal of his life – airplane food – during the flight home
to Canada.
If Two Tears on the Window were the only
book about Canada-China relations one ever read, it would come as a surprise to
learn that Chinese security forces operate in Canada, too. A necessary corrective is Jonathan Manthorpe’s
Claws of the Panda ominously
subtitled: Bejing’s Campaign of Influence
and Intimidation in Canada.
Manthorpe offers an historical perspective of our ‘missionary’ approach
to China – after Canada opened up relations, for example, the first three
Ambassadors to Beijing were “Mish Kids”, or the children of missionaries.[2] Manthorpe also details how the federal Liberal
Party especially is now imbedded with China interests, in multiple – and deeply
concerning ways - following Pierre Trudeau’s opening of the doors (for which he
was well primed) in 1972. Later Jean Chretien, who in 1994 led Team Canada to
Beijing, brought China out of international purgatory following the Tiananmen
Massacre of 1989. In return Canada has
received no particular favour from China as the Garratt case - and our current imbroglio
- indicate.
Claws of the Panda puts an end to any romantic notions one might
have had of China, as does Two Tears on
the Window, though Kevin and Julian Garratt continue to think wistfully of
their time there, outside of prison.
Manthorpe underscores how naïve Canadian thinking is with regards to
China, and the Garretts – the endearing missionary couple who provided aid to
North Korea - serve as an example of this, at least in their early years. The Garratts began their careers in China in
1984 teaching English at its National University of Defence Technology, which
does not come across as the most innocuous of institutions. At the time they joked that they were picked
because of their youth, and because they were “least likely to be spies”.[3] After spending upwards of 30 years in the
country, most-likely observed, they were in the end falsely accused of spying,
a bitter irony. In Two Tears, moreover,
the Tiananmen events are summed up in a single short paragraph thereby
minimizing the degree of shock it induced – in China, and, of course, beyond.[4]
Despite
these minor flaws, Two Tears on the
Window, published in 2019, is perfect for our times because it’s a book
about enforced isolation – in the most populous land in the world. In short, it’s an intimate look at differing degrees of torture, and how one couple coped. It comes as a something of a surprise that
local lending libraries do not have copies available for the public. The copiously detailed Claws of the Panda, also published in 2019, is flawed only because
it stops too early. It mentions the
Garratt family twice, but there is no mention of ‘the two Michaels’; this would
have resulted in a much longer book, given that current events were unfolding
as writing was finishing. Furthermore,
it was published well before the current Covid-19 pandemic about which the
best-selling Manthorpe must have volumes to say.
Manthorpe
does bring to the reader’s attention, for instance, the criticism of Beijing’s official
silence during the early stages of the SARS outbreak in March and April
2003. A similar silence occurred in
early 2020, with the unfortunate ophthalmologist, Dr. Li Wenliang, who was
forced to confess to spreading rumours, and who later died from the coronavirus. This time, however, there was no criticism by
the World Health Organization, which also recommended that international
borders remain open, thus apparently following China’s lead, something Donald Trump
rejected, his only good move – driven by populist preoccupation with
contamination, however - when dealing with the pandemic. A study by the University of Southampton
indicates that China could have prevented the spread of Covid-19 by 95 percent -
a kind of magic number when it comes to statistics - had it acted three weeks
earlier than it did, that is, around the time when Dr. Li sounded the alarm.[5]
“Check your
sources” - these are remarks that frequent any number of student papers as they
are graded if they present dubious arguments or infelicitous writing. The WHO failed properly to consider its
sources, otherwise known as the Chinese Communist Party, never known for
transparency. Ancient China is famous
for its development of silk, tea, and gunpowder, among quite a number of other
inventions; the CCP’s gift to the world is Covid-19. By the time this global
pandemic becomes a spent force, President Xi could be in the positon to have outdone himself – and Mao, given the international scale of this disaster.
But as
irony would have it, Trump, who is more dictatorial than democratic by instinct,
also resembles Mao, particularly in his callous disregard for life, given the
former’s decision to withhold funding to the WHO during a pandemic thereby valuing money over humanity.[6]
Like Trump, Mao was unmethodical in his
speeches, preoccupied with his position in history, taking offence at any slight,
and prone to browbeating. So by
quirk of history, as Trump engages in China-bashing with hopes of winning a
second term, he is in effect battling an alter ego, that other Chairman - Mao. Sometimes self-isolation can clear the
mind.
[1] Julia
and Kevin Garratt, Two Tears on the
Window: A True Story (Victoria, BC: First Choice Books, 2019), p. 189.
[2] Jonathan Manthorpe, Claws of the Panda: Beijing’s Campaign of
Influence and Intimidation in Canada (Toronto: Cormorant Book, 2019), p.
58.
[4]
Consider instead Jan Wang’s captivating memoir Out
of the Blue: My Long March from Mao to Now (1996) which provides a gripping
first-hand account of the Tiananmen Massacre.
[5] See,
for example: “Hold China to
account on COVID-19: Cotler”, The Globe
and Mail, Thursday, April 16, 2020, p. A1.
[6] See
Frank Dikötter, Mao’s Great Famine, The
History of China’s Most Devastating Catastrophe, 1958-1962 (New York:
Bloomsbury, 2017), p. xv. First published in 2010.
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