graveyard cough, inflammation of the lung, delicacy of the lungs, lung weakness, and complaint of the chest. Crucially, in much of the industrial West, consumption was thought to be hereditary, not contagious. Thus, most TB sufferers were not quarantined. They mixed freely with the uninfected, ensuring the spread of the disease.
The Romantics believed tuberculosis signified artistic fire. Pale skin, flushed cheeks, and the bloody handkerchief were envied marks of passion and genius.
Although tuberculosis of the lungs was the most common form of the illness, the bacterium could also manifest itself in other parts of the body with different symptoms and different names. Tuberculosis of the neck was called the king’s evil and scrofula. Tuberculosis of the bones was called the white swelling. Tuberculosis ofthe stomach was called mesenteric disease. Tuberculosis of the spine was called Pott’s disease. Tuberculosis of the skin was called
lupus vulgaris
. The term “tuberculosis” itself was coined in the early nineteenth century. It refers to the tiny inflamed scars on the lungs, called tubercles, that are a sure sign of the disease.
The Age of Reason
To understand how nineteenth-century tuberculosis became a popular disease, the beliefs of the day need to be understood. At the beginning of the nineteenth cen-tury, Enlightenment values exerted a profound effect on the intellectual life of Europe and America. The universe, formerly chaotic and terrible, was now seen as orderly, comprehensible, and measurable. Reason trumped religious faith. Atheism was trendy. Scientific progress ruled. In the arts, Classicism stressed order, calm, harmony, balance, and of course rationality.
But this new thinking papered over ancient ideas about health and illness. The sick were still bled to rebalance bodily humors. Most people still thought appearance and disease were outward signs of inner character. A beautiful person was good. An ugly person was bad. A light-skinned person was superior to a dark one. One way new thinking and old mixed was a popular pseudoscience called phrenology. Practitioners claimed that personality, character, and intelligence could be determined by the systematic study of the shape and size of a person’s head. This was simply social prejudice and racism tricked out to look and sound like rational thought. In truth, it was nonsense.
Appearance and disease were perceived not just as outer markers of inner truth but as signifiers of class. In an age when food was scarce and famine was always a possibility, body fat was a good thing, a sign of wealth. One of the diseases brought on by the beef-and-burgundy diet of the wealthy was gout, a painful inflammation of the joints. It was a mark of distinction, like a Lexus or a Rolex today. The writer Edward Gibbon, a poor man made fat and rich by his acclaimed six-volume
History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire,
was proud of his gout. He bragged about it to his friends.
Consuming passion
Romantics rebelled against Enlightenment ideals. They worshiped self-expression and imagination. They loathed the ideals of Classicism. They sought freedom from social conventions. But Romantics were also people of their time, and they believed that illness and appearance revealed inner truth. They adored TB.
Romantics were intoxicated with sensation and thought the well-lived life was bright, intense, and snuffed out in the bloom of youth. For them, TB was a badge of passion and genius. In a tubercular family of artists or writers, consumption in the children might be taken as a sign that they had inherited their parents’ creative talents. The best-known symptoms of the disease were inflamed cheeks, pallid skin (popular since ancient Roman times as a sign of genius), the coughing up of blood, and a thin, “consumed” body. These signs were thought to be manifestations of an inner artistic fire. Some people believed TB ignited the flames. Even doctors were
The Romantics believed tuberculosis signified artistic fire. Pale skin, flushed cheeks, and the bloody handkerchief were envied marks of passion and genius.
Although tuberculosis of the lungs was the most common form of the illness, the bacterium could also manifest itself in other parts of the body with different symptoms and different names. Tuberculosis of the neck was called the king’s evil and scrofula. Tuberculosis of the bones was called the white swelling. Tuberculosis ofthe stomach was called mesenteric disease. Tuberculosis of the spine was called Pott’s disease. Tuberculosis of the skin was called
lupus vulgaris
. The term “tuberculosis” itself was coined in the early nineteenth century. It refers to the tiny inflamed scars on the lungs, called tubercles, that are a sure sign of the disease.
The Age of Reason
To understand how nineteenth-century tuberculosis became a popular disease, the beliefs of the day need to be understood. At the beginning of the nineteenth cen-tury, Enlightenment values exerted a profound effect on the intellectual life of Europe and America. The universe, formerly chaotic and terrible, was now seen as orderly, comprehensible, and measurable. Reason trumped religious faith. Atheism was trendy. Scientific progress ruled. In the arts, Classicism stressed order, calm, harmony, balance, and of course rationality.
But this new thinking papered over ancient ideas about health and illness. The sick were still bled to rebalance bodily humors. Most people still thought appearance and disease were outward signs of inner character. A beautiful person was good. An ugly person was bad. A light-skinned person was superior to a dark one. One way new thinking and old mixed was a popular pseudoscience called phrenology. Practitioners claimed that personality, character, and intelligence could be determined by the systematic study of the shape and size of a person’s head. This was simply social prejudice and racism tricked out to look and sound like rational thought. In truth, it was nonsense.
Appearance and disease were perceived not just as outer markers of inner truth but as signifiers of class. In an age when food was scarce and famine was always a possibility, body fat was a good thing, a sign of wealth. One of the diseases brought on by the beef-and-burgundy diet of the wealthy was gout, a painful inflammation of the joints. It was a mark of distinction, like a Lexus or a Rolex today. The writer Edward Gibbon, a poor man made fat and rich by his acclaimed six-volume
History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire,
was proud of his gout. He bragged about it to his friends.
Consuming passion
Romantics rebelled against Enlightenment ideals. They worshiped self-expression and imagination. They loathed the ideals of Classicism. They sought freedom from social conventions. But Romantics were also people of their time, and they believed that illness and appearance revealed inner truth. They adored TB.
Romantics were intoxicated with sensation and thought the well-lived life was bright, intense, and snuffed out in the bloom of youth. For them, TB was a badge of passion and genius. In a tubercular family of artists or writers, consumption in the children might be taken as a sign that they had inherited their parents’ creative talents. The best-known symptoms of the disease were inflamed cheeks, pallid skin (popular since ancient Roman times as a sign of genius), the coughing up of blood, and a thin, “consumed” body. These signs were thought to be manifestations of an inner artistic fire. Some people believed TB ignited the flames. Even doctors were
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