Childhood illness in twentieth-century Ireland by Ida Milne

In this month's blog post, Dr Ida Milne,  Irish Research Council ELEVATE fellow co-funded by Marie Curie Actions, writes about her postdoctoral project on childhood illness in twentieth-century Ireland.

We live in an era where we expect our children to survive to adulthood without having their lives threatened by common infectious diseases of childhood.  The situation was rather different in the Ireland of the early part of the twentieth century. In 1911, more than 2,000 infants under the age of two died from diarrhoeal illnesses, almost double the number that died the previous year.  The increase was not helped by the hot summer, which exacerbated the hygiene difficulties in an era when many houses, even of the affluent, did not have running water or flush toilets. As a twenty first century mother, I find the idea of nursing a child suffering from diarrhoea in an overcrowded third floor  bathroomless tenement almost unimaginable. 

Child mortality in the early-twentieth century

Having healthy children who would survive to adulthood was not taken as the norm, as we do now. Statistics tabulated by the Registrar-General in 1911 show that one-fifth of the total 72,475 deaths in 1911 were children under 5; of these, 945 were caused by ‘convulsions’ and 1,370 by bronchitis. Scarlet fever claimed the lives of 260 children under fifteen; 460 under-fifteens died from measles, and 819 under tens from whooping cough.  

Slums in Dublin, c.1865-1914 (Image from NLI collection: L_ROY_07881)

Dublin tenements, poverty, and childhood illness

Few families, rich or poor, remained untouched by these deaths, but the over-crowded living conditions of the poor could bring extremes of ill health. Stella Larkin McConnon, trade unionist James Larkin’s granddaughter, told me that the poor health of the nation’s children was one reason he became so interested in improving living conditions for families.  The Larkins had good reason to be aware of the suffering.  Stella’s own mother was brought up in Marlborough Street in the heart of Dublin’s tenements, and was the only one of ten children to survive to adulthood.  Stella still remembers visiting the tenement, one room with only one metal bed, the only toilet downstairs in another part of the tenement, the cooking done on an open fire.

Improving child health

By 1981, the landscape of death in childhood had changed radically. There were no deaths in either Northern Ireland or the Republic from scarlet fever or whooping cough, and only two from measles.  Only 2.78 per cent of the total deaths, 916 of 32,929, were of children under five.

Many factors contributed to the improvements over the course of the twentieth century:  among them vaccination schemes and more effective medicines, public health education and increased state intervention in the health of children, better housing and diet and improved air quality. It didn’t happen by accident – throughout the century, there were individuals who identified areas to change and worked to effect that change.  Their number includes the first chief medical officer for Dublin, Sir Charles Cameron, trade unionists like James Larkin who worked to give families a decent wage, pioneering TB Dr Dorothy Stopford Price,  Department of Local Government and Public Health Chief Medical Officer James Deeny, Noel Browne and many others who played macro and micro roles in the significant reduction in deaths from disease in childhood.

Research project on childhood disease

In October, I began a three year  Irish ResearchElevate Fellowship in the National University of Ireland and Queen’s University, Belfast to research this dramatic changing landscape of childhood disease, which is in general a good news story for Irish society and Irish public health.  While statistical and documentary sources will be important to the project, a key feature will be a series of qualitative interviews with medical professionals, with people who worked in relevant Government and local authority roles, and with parents and sufferers. I intend that these interviews should, at the conclusion of the project, be available in an open access archive to other researchers. 

Mother (to District Visitor): "Lumme, miss! There ain't no danger

of infection. Them children wet's got the measles is at the 'ead of 

the bed, and them wet ain't is at the foot.

London Mail, 23 October 1913

Image courtesy of the Wellcome Library

The project builds on and was partly inspired by the RAMI Living Medical History project; Susan Mullaney, Mary O’Doherty and  Patrick Plunkett of the RAMI section on history of medicine devised this innovative project to interview retired medical doctors about their working lives, collecting memories on the changes in medical practice over the course of their careers. Several of the LMH interviewees had either suffered from diseases like diphtheria and tuberculosis themselves, or had family who did, and this really brought home to me how all-pervasive the effects of childhood disease were on Irish society, that they were not merely confined to the poor and the badly-housed, but could also invade better-off families.

Oral history of medical practitioners

Oral history interviews can add flesh to the dry bones of statistics. When working on my PhD on the effects of the 1918-19 influenza pandemic here,  the people who spoke to me about suffering this influenza as small children, or who told me about how their families coped with the tragic losses of children or parents to the 1918-19 flu, breathed life into its history, recreating the fear caused by the unpredictability of  this most awesome of influenza pandemics.

In the case of this new project, I am hoping to find people who can talk about the changing landscape of childhood illness in the twentieth century, from their own perspective, whether as medical workers, patients, parents or as Department of Health officials and politicians.

I’m curious about issues like knowledge transfer – how and what did parents learn about treating the illnesses their children caught?  As a child growing up in the 1960s, I recall my mother hanging blankets over the windows when we caught measles; the information she had been passed down by her mother was that children with measles could damage their eyesight if they read or were in daylight.

When I had my own children in the 1990s, I was struck by the efficiency and dedication of a district nurse in north Kildare who made sure we parents brought our children for vaccinations, and cajoled and informed those parents who had reservations about allowing their children to be vaccinated. Getting medical workers like her to talk about their work is one of the goals of this project. This district nurse was, it seems to me, a local hero, a micro role player who was a small but significant cog in the expanding machinery which managed and significantly improved the health of our children over the course of the twentieth century. 

Dr Ida Milne is a social historian based at NUI Maynooth and Queen's University Belfast. She holds an ELEVATE Irish Research Council International Career Development Fellowship co-funded by Marie Curie Actions. 

Treating Measles in late Seventeenth-Century London and Dublin by Elizabethanne Boran

This month, Elizabethanne Boran, librarian at the Edward Worth Library, Dublin, writes on treating measles in late seventeenth-century London and Dublin, with particular focus on the works of John Pechey (1654-1718), many of which were collected by the Irish physician Edward Worth (1678-1733). 

A keen collector of medical works

Title page of  John Pechey's Collections of Acute Diseases (1691)

‘These Measles began very early, as they use to do, to wit, at the beginning of January, 1670/1 and increasing daily, came to their height at the Vernal Æquinox, i.e. the Tenth of March: afterwards they gradually decreas’d. and were totally extinguish’d the following July’. Thus begins John Pechey’s account of an outbreak of measles in his Collection of Acute Diseases (London, 1691), a book collected by the early eighteenth-century Dublin physician, Edward Worth (1676-1733). Worth was a keen collector of all kinds of medical and scientific works and was particularly interested in infectious diseases. As the Worth Library’s online exhibition on infectious diseases demonstrates, his main areas of concern were plague, smallpox, syphilis, and tuberculosis, not to mention all kinds of fevers, but he was also avidly interested in books on other infectious (and non-infectious) diseases.

John Pechey

Perhaps it was for this reason that Worth was drawn to the works of John Pechey (1654-1718), for he collected no less than seven books by this popular author: Pechey’s Collection of Acute Diseases (London, 1691) had quickly been followed by his Collections of Chronical Diseases (London, 1692). Three years later Pechey’s Storehouse of physical practice was on the market and in the next two years he produced a book a year: Treatise of Women’s Diseases (London, 1696) and Treatise of Children’s Diseases (London, 1697). All of these books were collected by Edward Worth who joined to them a 1700 edition of Pechey’s Promptuarium praxeos medicae (which had been a Latin translation of the Storehouse), and, finally, in 1707, Pechey’s Compleat Herbal of Physical Plants. Though these books didn’t not represent the entire output of Pechey (which includes a host of pamphlets on the virtues of his famous medical concoctions), it is clear that Worth was drawn to Pechey’s understanding of disease, which was, in turn, heavily dependent on the works of the great English physician, Thomas Sydenham (1624-1689), whose works were translated and published by Pechey.

Portrait of Thomas Sydenham

A fractious relationsip with medical authorities

Pechey was the son of William Pechey, a Sussex ‘Practitioner in Physick and Surgery’, whose influence his son publicly acknowledged in the fifth part of his Collection of Acute Diseases. Judging by this dedication, Pechey had a fractious relationship with medical authorities. Initially his education had been unremarkable: he had taken a BA and MA from the University of Oxford in 1675 and 1678 respectively and in late 1684 he had successfully taken the Royal College of Physicians licentiate examination. Three years later he, and a number of other licentiates, set up practice at the Golden Angel and Crown in King’s Street, London and it was there his trouble started. His and his colleagues’ decision to advertise their medical services with the admirable promise that ‘the sick may have advice for nothing’ was met with less than enthusiasm by the medical authorities, who were appalled at Pechey’s approach. Legal battles ensued and it was in this context that Pechey issued the first edition of his Collections of Acute Diseases, which was published in London in 1686. In effect, Pechey had simply translated Thomas Sydenham’s works on smallpox and measles into English, no doubt in an effort to demonstrate how mainstream his medical teaching was. This was by no means plariarism: Pechey undoubtedly had the support of Sydenham in translating his work and he was himself keen to give credit where credit was due. Indeed he informs the reader that he had ‘chiefly collected from Dr Sydenham, because I have found by Experience, that his Methods in Acute Diseases have been most successful in practice. The Chapter of a Peripneumony was taken from Willis. The Chapter of Women’s Diseases, from Riverius and from Mauriceau, The Chapter of an Apoplexy, Lethardy, Coma and Carus; likewise from Riverius.’ It is revealing that works by all these authors were likewise collected by Worth.

The 'English Hippocrates'

The choice of Sydenham was a shrewd one – as the numerous editions of Pechey’s English translation of Sydenham’s complete works testify. But if Pechey hoped to win approval by translating Sydenham’s works his hopes were dashed for Sydenham’s own relationship with the Royal College of Physicians was problematic. It is at first sight surprising that so eminent a physician, one who was regarded as the ‘English Hippocrates’ due to his emphasis on clinical experience, was never made a Fellow of the College. However, it was precisely Sydenham’s advocacy of experience over theoretical medicine that threatened the status of the members of the College. Sydenham might have avoided publishing his most radical attacks on the medical establishment but there was sufficient criticism of them in his famous Methodus to ensure that they were less than attracted to the likely social implications of his health regime.

Bleeding a patient

'These Men blame me for Englishing their Mysteries'

 So Pechey’s advocacy of Sydenham, though it fitted in perfectly with his own medical philosophy, was unlikely to endear him to the Royal College of Physicians who were already incensed by Pechey’s propensity for advertising his medical wares. Not only this, but, as Pechey explains to the reader in Worth’s 1691 edition of the Collection of Acute Diseases, the very method of his popularizing of Sydenham was criticised: ‘These Men blame me for Englishing their Mysteries, though they know that Hippocrates and Galen and Celsus, and many others wrote in their Mother-Tongue.’ That didn’t stop him for, as his preface to his father makes clear, his publications represented not only an opportunity for financial gain but more importantly were part of a crusade to defend the importance of practice and experience over theory, and, at the same time, to democratize medical knowledge by making the works of eminent doctors available in English to non medical readers. In this Pechey seems to have been following his medical hero, Sydenham, for the latter never joined the ranks of fashionable doctors and was more than happy to treat poor patients.

Bleeding

Therefore, much of Pechey’s description and suggestions for treating measles comes directly from Thomas Sydenham. Certainly both men would have concurred that ‘the Patient be kept in his bed onely two or three days after the eruption, that the bloud may gently breath out, according to its own genius, through the pores of the skin, the inflam’d Particles that are easily separable which offend her; and that he have no more cloaths nor fire, than he is wont to have when he is well’. Though Sydenham in general opposed the treatment of bleeding in cases of fever and smallpox, he admitted that in some cases of measles the standard practice of bleeding should be implemented. Edward Worth’s collection of medical books demonstrate that this early eighteenth-century Dublin physician was a keen follower of the Pechey-Sydenham approach to infectious disease.

Elizabethanne Boran is librarian at the Edward Worth Library, Dublin. She may be contacted at elizabethanne "dot" boran "at" hse "dot" ie.