Flu a hundred years hence

Given that there’s so much in the news about flu outbreaks at the moment, I thought it would be interesting to look at some of the reactions to the influenza outbreak in 1919, from the Kingsley Wood scrapbook which covers the period November 1918 to October 1919. During this time, Sir Howard Kingsley Wood was involved in the setting up of the new Ministry of Health, as well as being part of the Local Government Board and M.P. for Woolwich.

The Spanish flu outbreak of 1918-1920 swept across the world with huge numbers of fatalities, particularly killing  younger victims through an overreaction of the immune system. Those with weaker immune systems were therefore more able to survive the virus. The devastating effects of the Spanish flu were exacerbated by the First World War, through lifestyle and the unusual population movement of seriously infected individuals.

The Daily Sketch published a self-congratulatory account of a ‘conference on influenza’ on 1st March 1919, which it claimed to have inspired. In the course of the public debate, the government’s advice to ‘keep fit’ was criticised, since fit people also fell ill. The chairman, Sir Malcolm Morris, also described the prescription of ‘a permanganate of potash and salt as a nasal douche’ as ‘”a horrible solution”‘. Dr Murray Lesli advised:

Start the day with a good breakfast ; have a brisk walk before starting work. Mental strain, lack of food and sleep, owing to the war are predisposing causes of influenza.

Oral cleanliness and good ventilation of public transport and public spaces were advocated; Dr Kirkhope, the Medical Officer for Health in Tottenham, advised that all badly ventilated cinemas should be closed. However, Kirkhope also argued that the disease was not influenza but a ‘continuation of many diseases’, since, at this time, scientists not yet conclusively discovered the causes of the flu virus.

‘Dr Lowe argued that we eat too much boiled food’

More ‘striking’ opinions included the demand by Sir St. Clair Thomson that anyone who coughed or sneezed on public transport ‘without putting a hand or handkerchief to the mouth should be prosecuted for indecency’. The possibility of taking ‘disciplinary measures’ against infected people who handled food and did not take precautions against infecting others seems to have been popular.

‘Persons with a cough should wear masks, but not the general public.’

According to this article, there was a difference of opinion amongst the experts about the ‘question of alcohol’; perhaps it is a coincidence that the lower section of the page is taken up by an endorsement of supplying whisky to those suffering with influenza!

As part of the ‘war on disease’, the first Minister for Health for England was appointed on 10th June 1919. Dr. Christopher Addison (1869-1951) had entered politics because he believed that governments were more able to change the health of the poor, and of society in general, than individual doctors. The Daily Mail announced Dr. Addison’s appointment in June 1919 as the start of a ‘war on disease’, where prevention was paramount in a country in which:

‘consumption is as prevalent today as smallpox in the seventeenth century.’

One of the many improvements associated with social welfare and efforts to improve the nation’s health following the First World War were housing reforms. As the cutting from Answers from 2nd August 1919 put it, the intention was to ‘Scoot that Slum!’ The Daily News had reported in May of the same year that over three million people were living in cramped conditions of two to a room, describing a ‘great breeding place of disease.’

‘Bred in towns, reared in alleys, mewed up in stuffy rooms, no wonder people became irreligious, bat-eyed, materialistic, and Bolshevik.’

Kingsley Wood’s opinion of the place of slums as the cause of all the country’s ills were popular amongst many public-spirited gentleman of the time, who also wanted to build for the future. However, this proved difficult for the people who wanted to live in the newly developed ideal homes. Ways and Means from 6th September 1919 describes a leaked interview which Kingsley Wood gave to the Observer, in which he claimed that the government was ‘to-day settling where the Englishman of a hundred years hence is to live.’ While we may be grateful in 2019, the people of 1919 were more concerned with the ‘leaky lodgings and lack of lavatories’ which they had to put up with while the building work progressed increasingly slowly.

The Kingsley Wood scrapbooks are not yet catalogued but are in date order. They consist of cuttings largely from Sir Kingsley Wood’s political career and items of interest from his work as a lawyer. If you would like to look at these scrapbooks, email us at specialcollections@kent.ac.uk for an appointment.

Exhibitions looming

The final preparations are now under way for the British Theatre 1860-1940 Exhibition, which will open to the public on Wednesday 15th December.

The reading room and office have been tidied up, cleaning is underway and three sets of empty boards are looming over three remarkably clear tables. We have six sheets of (almost) identically cut cotton waiting to throw over each group’s work (in the interest of fairness), which will be covered until the grand unveiling. Cushions, books rests, snake weights and Secol covers are neatly stacked, awaiting the formation of three different exhibits created by the eighteen students of the British Theatre module.

The exhbits will be titled

  • The changing representation of women 1860-1910
  • The reasons for the popularity of Music Hall
  • The ways in which theatre troubled class relations

Each group of six students has gone through a process of exploring the sources available in Special Collections, researching topics which interest them and selecting sources to support the arguments they make in the course of their exhibit.

While staff have been on hand to offer advice on the use of collections and on the topics, the work is the students’ own and will draw on their theatrical experiences to inform current academic debates. We are looking forward to experiencing the work which these talented students produce and hope that you will be able to share in it.

If you can’t get to the exhibition, opening times below, each group will produce a website to support their exhibit, which will include digital images of the sources they used. We hope, in the near future, to be able to link these websites to the Special Collections website in order to make this work accessible to everyone.

Exhibition Opening Times

Opens: Wednesday 15th December

Daily opening: 9.30-1pm & 2-4.30pm Monday-Friday (normal reading room opening times)

Closures: 12-3pm Tuesday 21st December
23 December-3rd January (Library closure for vacation)

Closes: 7th January

If in doubt, please phone ahead of your visit on 01227 827609

Dastardly bankers and financial panics

Despising bankers and panic over financial crises are no new phenomenons: Dion Boucicault’s The Poor of New York (later renamed The Streets of London), written in collaboration with three journalists, was a popular success in 1857. Focusing on two periods financial panic, 1837 and 1857, the plot is set in motion by the actions of the villain Bloodgood, a banker, who absconds with his bank’s cash just before it goes bankrupt. One of the latest investors, Captain Fairweather, leaves an impoverished family who are driven further into penury as a result of Bloodgood, who, as a wealthy landlord, demands high rents from the Fairweather family and their friends.

Boucicault himself suffered from poor finances for most of his life, but as a result of overspending, rather than extortion. He was involved in several cases regarding plagiarism; The Poor of New York was closely based on Les Pauvres de Paris by Edouard-Louis-Alexandre Brisbarre and Eugene Nus. Ironically, Boucicault’s version was written in response to his desperate need for money after the birth of Eve, Dion and Agnes Boucicault’s second child.

Streets of London Quadrille

Streets of London sheet music title page

Although initially written for and performed in America, the play was a hit elsewhere, with the name of the production changing to suit the place of its performance. The Poor of Liverpool, for example, was performed in 1864 and versions of The Streets of Dublin performed as recently as 1995. Despite the critics’ derision and Boucicault’s own admission that the play was ‘guano’, the enduring popularity of the play suggests that the trials of financial panics and the actions of bankers have long been a subject to draw the crowds.

For more information on this or any of Boucicault’s plays, have a look at the Special Collections website, where there are lists of characters, plot summaries and lists of productions of some of Boucicault’s better known productions. Archives Hub now also includes full descriptions of the two Boucicault Collections.

If you would like to view any items from the collection, please email specialcollections@kent.ac.uk to make an appointment.

With many thanks to Angela Groth-Seary for the excellent website, and to Mrs Sue Crabtree, for her research.

1:17pm on 17th October 1940

1.17pm on Monday 18th October 2010 marks the 70th anniversary of the bombing of the Deanery at Canterbury Cathedral, while Hewlett Johnson and his guests were at lunch. In his autobiography, Searching for Light, Johnson recalls the ‘sound of a bomb descending directly above us’, which gave enough warning for them all to take cover in the vaulted pantry. Johnson wrote:

‘There was a terrific crash, the walls rocked like a ship in a rough sea and settled again’

All of the occupants of the Deanery were unhurt, and the cook, Mrs. County, even rescued the pudding which had been left in the oven.

Interior photograph of the Deanery after bomb damage, 1940

Bomb damage to the interior of the Deanery

While Hewlett’s recollection is tinged with humour, Nowell’s letter, dated the 19th October 1940, is saddened by the damage to ‘the poor old Deanery.’ Her letter of 27th October, partially written whilst listening to Myra Hess on the wireless, recalls the Deanery:

Our lovely lovely old Drawing room, the evening light, the soft drawn curtains, the lovely colours, all the exquisite beauty of it. And I can hardly believe it has gone.’

Despite this early damage to the Precincts, the Cathedral building itself was undamaged throughout the war, although the city of Canterbury sustained significant damage. Hewlett Johnson’s precautions of having the stained glass removed from the Cathedral, and a thick layer of earth over the quire to protect the crypt beneath, helped to keep the building fabric from harm. Of the Deanery, with all of its windows blown out,  Hewlett recalled ‘the winter gales and dust and dirt from the rubble blew through the shattered house for month after month’, but he remained in Canterbury throughout the war years.

Latest news

Well, having promised updates I’m afraid I got carried away with the work. Transcription is never more exciting than when you realise that the ink was drying at a time when Henry VI’s uncles were getting their infant nephew the crown of France, or just a month after Oliver Cromwell had been confirmed Lord Protector in 1657 (three years before the monarchy was restored, in 1660).

However, my transcription of these indentures is now finished, and it only remains to translate and check out the background of the people and places involved. This could be a lengthy process, and will hopefully involve people far more expert than myself, but I hope to be able to share the information we gather through the blog.

Your Canterbury‘s Florence Tennent broke the news this week; her article can be found on page 5 of this week’s issue.

A slight correction is needed to the last post – although we thought that Charles Dickens was writing to Sir Charles Darley, further investigation (and the eagle eyes of Angela Groth-Seary) suggests that the gentleman in question was Sir Charles Pasley. There is a substantial amount of Pasley-Dickens correspondence extant, and the signed note we discovered would tie in to the exchanges between them during 1855, while Dickens was resident at Tavistock House. According to the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, after 1855, Pasley devoted much of his time to re-editing his published works. This may offer a clue to ‘the enclosed’, the subject of the note, which Dickens ‘read…with much pleasure’ but which has been seperated from this note and is now almost impossible to identify.

While the vast majority of these items appear to be of small significance in political or national terms, it appears that there is still plenty to learn from them about life in Kent and Essex over the last 600 years.

This time, updates will follow!