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                        • On the cover: The Interior of a Hospital
tent, watercolor, 1918, by John Singer Sargent
(American, 1856-1925). Imperial War Museum,
London, England. Reproduced with permission.
Best known for his society portraits in the
United States and England, John Singer Sargent
was an unlikely candidate to document the Great
War. Nonetheless, in the summer of 1918, the
62 year-old painter accepted a commission to
document the joint efforts of American and British
troops for a proposed Hall of Remembrance in the
Imperial War Museum in London.
Late in September 1918, while gathering
material for Gassed (see Clinical Infectious
Diseases cover 15 October 2011) in the vicinity of
Peronne, near the Battles of the Somme, Sargent
was struck down with influenza and taken to a
hospital near Roisel. Here, he spent a week in
a hospital bed next to the war-wounded, which
inspired this work.
(Mary & Michael Grizzard, Cover Art Editors) Volume 70, Issue 1
                          Volume 70, Issue 1
                          1 January 2020
                          Pages 1–180
                          Cover image

                          Cover image

                          On the cover: The Interior of a Hospital tent, watercolor, 1918, by John Singer Sargent (American, 1856-1925). Imperial War Museum, London, England. Reproduced with permission. Best known for his society portraits in the United States and England, John Singer Sargent was an unlikely candidate to document the Great War. Nonetheless, in the summer of 1918, the 62 year-old painter accepted a commission to document the joint efforts of American and British troops for a proposed Hall of Remembrance in the Imperial War Museum in London. Late in September 1918, while gathering material for Gassed (see Clinical Infectious Diseases cover 15 October 2011) in the vicinity of Peronne, near the Battles of the Somme, Sargent was struck down with influenza and taken to a hospital near Roisel. Here, he spent a week in a hospital bed next to the war-wounded, which inspired this work. (Mary & Michael Grizzard, Cover Art Editors)

                        • On the cover: The Cholera, 1835, drawing by Honoré Daumier in “Nemesis medicale” by Francis Fabre, (French, 1808-1879), Bridgeman Images, New York. Reproduced with permission.
“ Ah? Sans l’heureux secours des mille d’mentis.”
The caption to Honoré Daumier’s illustration, The Cholera, (“Ah, without the help of thousands of lies”) targets the quackery of the medical profession of France in the face of yet another outbreak of the disease. Surpassed only by lawyers and politicians, physicians were chosen as objects of derision by the caricaturist, whose many 
works offer commentary on social and political life in 19th-century France.
This illustration in Nemesis Medicale by Francis Fabre depicts yet more deaths from cholera accomplished without the added burden of lies and worthless intervention by medical practitioners.
The first cholera pandemic began in 1816 in India and eventually reached China before receding in 1826. In 1829, a second cholera pandemic occurred in Russia. This time it  advanced slowly towards Paris and London where it became known as “King Cholera.” Parisians thought they might avoid the cholera pandemic altogether, but, unfortunately, it took its first victim when it reached Paris on 26 March 1832. Throughout France, a total of 100,000 people died from the dreaded disease.
(Mary & Michael Grizzard, Cover Art Editors) Volume 70, Issue 2
                          Volume 70, Issue 2
                          15 January 2020
                          Pages 181–360
                          Cover image

                          Cover image

                          On the cover: The Cholera, 1835, drawing by Honoré Daumier in “Nemesis medicale” by Francis Fabre, (French, 1808-1879), Bridgeman Images, New York. Reproduced with permission. “ Ah? Sans l’heureux secours des mille d’mentis.” The caption to Honoré Daumier’s illustration, The Cholera, (“Ah, without the help of thousands of lies”) targets the quackery of the medical profession of France in the face of yet another outbreak of the disease. Surpassed only by lawyers and politicians, physicians were chosen as objects of derision by the caricaturist, whose many works offer commentary on social and political life in 19th-century France. This illustration in Nemesis Medicale by Francis Fabre depicts yet more deaths from cholera accomplished without the added burden of lies and worthless intervention by medical practitioners. The first cholera pandemic began in 1816 in India and eventually reached China before receding in 1826. In 1829, a second cholera pandemic occurred in Russia. This time it advanced slowly towards Paris and London where it became known as “King Cholera.” Parisians thought they might avoid the cholera pandemic altogether, but, unfortunately, it took its first victim when it reached Paris on 26 March 1832. Throughout France, a total of 100,000 people died from the dreaded disease. (Mary & Michael Grizzard, Cover Art Editors)

                        • A Court for King Cholera. lithograph, 1852, illustration from Punch, September 25, 1852. (English School, 19th century). British Library, London, UK. Bridgeman Images, Reproduced with permission.
Between 1816 and 1923, the first six cholera pandemics occurred consecutively over time. The first cholera epidemic began near Calcutta in 1817, reaching most of Asia and is thought to have killed over 100,000. The second cholera epidemic (1826-1837), known as the Asiatic Cholera Pandemic, also began in India and was the first to reach Europe and North America. By 1832, it had reached London. Known as ‘King Cholera’ due to the way in which the disease mastered, controlled and decided the fate of the people it struck, it was often depicted as skeleton wearing a crown, rapidly delivering the verdict of death. Crowding, poverty, inadequate sanitation, and an unsafe water supply all added to a lack of understanding of the disease and comprised the “court” for King Cholera.
The Broad Street cholera outbreak marked the inception of the third wave of cholera which occurred in 1854 near Broad Street in the Soho district of the City of Westminster. This outbreak is best known for the physician John Snow’s study of its causes and his hypothesis that germcontaminated water was the source of cholera, rather than particles in the air (referred to as “miasmata”).
(Mary & Michael Grizzard, Cover Art Editors) Volume 70, Issue 3
                          Volume 70, Issue 3
                          1 February 2020
                          Pages 361–548
                          Cover image

                          Cover image

                          A Court for King Cholera. lithograph, 1852, illustration from Punch, September 25, 1852. (English School, 19th century). British Library, London, UK. Bridgeman Images, Reproduced with permission. Between 1816 and 1923, the first six cholera pandemics occurred consecutively over time. The first cholera epidemic began near Calcutta in 1817, reaching most of Asia and is thought to have killed over 100,000. The second cholera epidemic (1826-1837), known as the Asiatic Cholera Pandemic, also began in India and was the first to reach Europe and North America. By 1832, it had reached London. Known as ‘King Cholera’ due to the way in which the disease mastered, controlled and decided the fate of the people it struck, it was often depicted as skeleton wearing a crown, rapidly delivering the verdict of death. Crowding, poverty, inadequate sanitation, and an unsafe water supply all added to a lack of understanding of the disease and comprised the “court” for King Cholera. The Broad Street cholera outbreak marked the inception of the third wave of cholera which occurred in 1854 near Broad Street in the Soho district of the City of Westminster. This outbreak is best known for the physician John Snow’s study of its causes and his hypothesis that germcontaminated water was the source of cholera, rather than particles in the air (referred to as “miasmata”). (Mary & Michael Grizzard, Cover Art Editors)

                        • Quite a Lucky Day, cartoon in Fun, January 25,1882, unsigned, (British, 1882). British Library, London, UK. Bridgeman Images, Reproduced with permission.
This is a close-up of a patient suffering from a cold, as he sits in front of stove with open windows behind him, clutching his arms around himself to stay warm.
It is a scene from a satirical story of a hospital mishap that did not end up harming the patient after all. In this fanciful account, in a January,1882, weekly publication called Fun, a ten-year old showed up to manage a hospital, when all the physicians, nurses, and staff were away for the day.
The ten-year old Sairey, looked throughout the building for a patients to receive her newly discovered packet of prussic acid (hydrogen cyanide). Finding only one patient to receive her nostrum, the contents were administered. Only later was it realized that the packet
was mislabeled and contained only harmless granulated magnesium. The patient, with whom “there did not happen to be anything particular the matter… went away with only a regular wholesale cold - which was quite a stroke of luck for that hospital, and got its name up!”.
(Mary & Michael Grizzard, Cover Art Editors) Volume 70, Issue 4
                          Volume 70, Issue 4
                          15 February 2020
                          Pages 549–722
                          Cover image

                          Cover image

                          Quite a Lucky Day, cartoon in Fun, January 25,1882, unsigned, (British, 1882). British Library, London, UK. Bridgeman Images, Reproduced with permission. This is a close-up of a patient suffering from a cold, as he sits in front of stove with open windows behind him, clutching his arms around himself to stay warm. It is a scene from a satirical story of a hospital mishap that did not end up harming the patient after all. In this fanciful account, in a January,1882, weekly publication called Fun, a ten-year old showed up to manage a hospital, when all the physicians, nurses, and staff were away for the day. The ten-year old Sairey, looked throughout the building for a patients to receive her newly discovered packet of prussic acid (hydrogen cyanide). Finding only one patient to receive her nostrum, the contents were administered. Only later was it realized that the packet was mislabeled and contained only harmless granulated magnesium. The patient, with whom “there did not happen to be anything particular the matter… went away with only a regular wholesale cold - which was quite a stroke of luck for that hospital, and got its name up!”. (Mary & Michael Grizzard, Cover Art Editors)

                        • On the cover: Bring Out Your Dead. A street
during the Great Plague in London, 1665, wood
engraving with color, 1864, by Edmund Evans,
(1826-1905, British). Wellcome Collection, London.
Reproduced with permission.
The combination of poverty and “plague orders”
in 1665 trapped many residents of London in a
progression of infection to death. “The Great
Plague” spreading throughout Europe appeared to
have spared London, but in 1665, those who could,
began to leave the city, aware of the inevitable.
The well-to-do had the means to pay for transport
out of the city, but the poorest citizens had little
option but to stay. The Royal Navy turned back
vessels from Amsterdam where the plague was
raging and ships already near the Thames were
held outside of London for 40 days, a period known
as “quarantine”, from the Italian word for 40.
The Lord Mayor’s Plague Orders limited burials
to the hours of darkness with no accompanying
mourners. Official examiners were appointed to
discover which homes had been visited by the
illness, then isolated the structures for 28 days,
complete with all inhabitants, whether infected or
not. Plague homes were marked with a red cross
on their doors. People walked in the middle of the
street to avoid contact with others. With nightfall,
the call from the death carts, “Bring out your
dead”, echoed throughout the deserted city.
(Mary & Michael Grizzard, Cover Art Editors) Volume 70, Issue 5
                          Volume 70, Issue 5
                          1 March 2020
                          Pages 723–993
                          Cover image

                          Cover image

                          On the cover: Bring Out Your Dead. A street during the Great Plague in London, 1665, wood engraving with color, 1864, by Edmund Evans, (1826-1905, British). Wellcome Collection, London. Reproduced with permission. The combination of poverty and “plague orders” in 1665 trapped many residents of London in a progression of infection to death. “The Great Plague” spreading throughout Europe appeared to have spared London, but in 1665, those who could, began to leave the city, aware of the inevitable. The well-to-do had the means to pay for transport out of the city, but the poorest citizens had little option but to stay. The Royal Navy turned back vessels from Amsterdam where the plague was raging and ships already near the Thames were held outside of London for 40 days, a period known as “quarantine”, from the Italian word for 40. The Lord Mayor’s Plague Orders limited burials to the hours of darkness with no accompanying mourners. Official examiners were appointed to discover which homes had been visited by the illness, then isolated the structures for 28 days, complete with all inhabitants, whether infected or not. Plague homes were marked with a red cross on their doors. People walked in the middle of the street to avoid contact with others. With nightfall, the call from the death carts, “Bring out your dead”, echoed throughout the deserted city. (Mary & Michael Grizzard, Cover Art Editors)

                        • On the cover: Hamburg’s Escape from a Plague
Epidemic, silver medal, 1714, craftsman unknown,
(German). Science Museum, London. Reproduced
with permission.
This silver medal commemorates Hamburg’s
deliverance from a plague epidemic in 1714. The
Great Northern War (1700–1721), a conflict in
which a coalition led by the Tsardom of Russia
successfully contested the supremacy of the
Swedish Empire in Northern, Central and Eastern
Europe provided the setting for the pestilence.
Many towns and areas of the Circum-Baltic
and East-Central Europe had a severe outbreak
of the plague with a peak from 1708 to 1712.
Originating in Central Asia, the plague spread via
Constantinople and onward through trade routes to
all areas around the Baltic Sea, reaching Hamburg
by 1712. Though the region had experienced
several waves of the Black Death of the mid
1300s, the epidemic of 1712 was far worse for
several regions of the southern Baltic where many
villages were completely decimated. When the
plague finally faded in 1714, approximately 15% of
the population had succumbed.
The medal depicts a flying angel, armed with a
shield protecting the city, indicating the engraver’s
intention to show Hamburg as a place looked after
by God. At this time, plague was often viewed as a
divine punishment.
(Mary & Michael Grizzard, Cover Art Editors) Volume 70, Issue 6
                          Volume 70, Issue 6
                          15 March 2020
                          Pages 995–1265
                          Cover image

                          Cover image

                          On the cover: Hamburg’s Escape from a Plague Epidemic, silver medal, 1714, craftsman unknown, (German). Science Museum, London. Reproduced with permission. This silver medal commemorates Hamburg’s deliverance from a plague epidemic in 1714. The Great Northern War (1700–1721), a conflict in which a coalition led by the Tsardom of Russia successfully contested the supremacy of the Swedish Empire in Northern, Central and Eastern Europe provided the setting for the pestilence. Many towns and areas of the Circum-Baltic and East-Central Europe had a severe outbreak of the plague with a peak from 1708 to 1712. Originating in Central Asia, the plague spread via Constantinople and onward through trade routes to all areas around the Baltic Sea, reaching Hamburg by 1712. Though the region had experienced several waves of the Black Death of the mid 1300s, the epidemic of 1712 was far worse for several regions of the southern Baltic where many villages were completely decimated. When the plague finally faded in 1714, approximately 15% of the population had succumbed. The medal depicts a flying angel, armed with a shield protecting the city, indicating the engraver’s intention to show Hamburg as a place looked after by God. At this time, plague was often viewed as a divine punishment. (Mary & Michael Grizzard, Cover Art Editors)

                        • On the cover: Leonard Wood, Maverick in the
Making. Oil on canvas, 1903, by John Singer
Sargent (American, 1856-1925). National Portrait
Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, DC.
Reproduced with permission.
Leonard Wood began his military career as an
army doctor on the frontier, having participated
in the last campaign against Geronimo in the
summer of 1886, for which he was awarded the
Medal of honor for his bravery. At the outbreak of
the Spanish–American War, Wood, and his close
friend, Theodore Roosevelt, organized the Rough
Riders, a volunteer cavalry regiment. The success
in Cuba propelled Roosevelt to the White House
and led Wood to be appointed Military Governor
of Cuba from 1899 to 1902. In Cuba, his primary
charge was to address the problem of yellow
fever. Wood understood the magnitude of the
problem, and as military governor had the power to
enact stringent requirements. Applying the results
from the mosquito transmission experiments of
Walter Reed, Wood ordered mandatory mosquito
extermination for the entire population of Cuba.
The latter led to opposition by a majority of the
Cuban population but by September 1901, yellow
fever in Havana had essentially ceased to exist,
and had almost eradicated malaria as well. The
American portrait artist, John Singer Sargent,
painted the portrait of Wood in 1903, the same
year he painted the official White House image of
Wood’s friend, Theodore Roosevelt.
(Mary & Michael Grizzard, Cover Art Editors) Volume 70, Issue 7
                          Volume 70, Issue 7
                          1 April 2020
                          Pages 1267–1524
                          Cover image

                          Cover image

                          On the cover: Leonard Wood, Maverick in the Making. Oil on canvas, 1903, by John Singer Sargent (American, 1856-1925). National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, DC. Reproduced with permission. Leonard Wood began his military career as an army doctor on the frontier, having participated in the last campaign against Geronimo in the summer of 1886, for which he was awarded the Medal of honor for his bravery. At the outbreak of the Spanish–American War, Wood, and his close friend, Theodore Roosevelt, organized the Rough Riders, a volunteer cavalry regiment. The success in Cuba propelled Roosevelt to the White House and led Wood to be appointed Military Governor of Cuba from 1899 to 1902. In Cuba, his primary charge was to address the problem of yellow fever. Wood understood the magnitude of the problem, and as military governor had the power to enact stringent requirements. Applying the results from the mosquito transmission experiments of Walter Reed, Wood ordered mandatory mosquito extermination for the entire population of Cuba. The latter led to opposition by a majority of the Cuban population but by September 1901, yellow fever in Havana had essentially ceased to exist, and had almost eradicated malaria as well. The American portrait artist, John Singer Sargent, painted the portrait of Wood in 1903, the same year he painted the official White House image of Wood’s friend, Theodore Roosevelt. (Mary & Michael Grizzard, Cover Art Editors)

                        • On the cover: Bracelet with Wedjat Eye, insets
of gold, lapis lazuli, carnelian, white faience, ca.
890 BC., unknown artisan, (Ancient Egyptian, 22nd
dynasty, ca. 890 BC), Egyptian Museum, Cairo.
Art Resource, New York, NY. Reproduced with
permission.
A bracelet with a wedjat eye, meant to serve as
a protective amulet against disease and harm, was
found in Tanis, on the body of Pharaoh Shoshenq
II. This left eye of the sky god Horus, called the
wedjat eye, became the Egyptian symbol for
protection, sacrifice, healing and good health.
By wearing this apotropaic bracelet the Pharaoh
would be protected from misfortunes such as
trauma and infections, including several of those
at that time which have since been revealed
through paleopathology, including tuberculosis,
malaria, and schistosomiasis. Evidence of all three
infectious diseases have been found in mummies,
and given the lack of knowledge among the
ancient Egyptians about the causes of these and
other diseases, a protective bracelet provided at
least a sense of peace of mind.
(Mary & Michael Grizzard, Cover Art Editors) Volume 70, Issue 8
                          Volume 70, Issue 8
                          15 April 2020
                          Pages 1525–1797
                          Cover image

                          Cover image

                          On the cover: Bracelet with Wedjat Eye, insets of gold, lapis lazuli, carnelian, white faience, ca. 890 BC., unknown artisan, (Ancient Egyptian, 22nd dynasty, ca. 890 BC), Egyptian Museum, Cairo. Art Resource, New York, NY. Reproduced with permission. A bracelet with a wedjat eye, meant to serve as a protective amulet against disease and harm, was found in Tanis, on the body of Pharaoh Shoshenq II. This left eye of the sky god Horus, called the wedjat eye, became the Egyptian symbol for protection, sacrifice, healing and good health. By wearing this apotropaic bracelet the Pharaoh would be protected from misfortunes such as trauma and infections, including several of those at that time which have since been revealed through paleopathology, including tuberculosis, malaria, and schistosomiasis. Evidence of all three infectious diseases have been found in mummies, and given the lack of knowledge among the ancient Egyptians about the causes of these and other diseases, a protective bracelet provided at least a sense of peace of mind. (Mary & Michael Grizzard, Cover Art Editors)

                        • On the cover: Al conde palatino, etching, aquatint, drypoint and burin, 1799, by Francisco de Goya (Spanish, 1746-1828), National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C., Art Resource, New York, N.Y., Reproduced with permission.
Al conde palatino is a print from the Los Caprichos series, published in 1799, by the Spanish painter Francisco de Goya.
A contemporary commentary reveals that the image is a warning not to trust the ignorant. The same print in the Prado Museum states: “In all the sciences there are charlatans, who have not studied anything, but know everything, and have a solution for everything. One should have no trust in anything they say. The true learned person distrusts certainty: promises little and achieves much; but Count Palatino does not achieve any of the things he promises.”
A quack doctor forces a remedy into a man’s mouth, while two other patients are sick.
Goya was inspired in part by British satirists, but his dark views of societal ills are generally more grim, as in this example, which warns of scientific ignorance, practiced by those with wealth and power.
(Mary & Michael Grizzard, Cover Art Editors) Volume 70, Issue 9
                          Volume 70, Issue 9
                          1 May 2020
                          Pages 1799–2021
                          Cover image

                          Cover image

                          On the cover: Al conde palatino, etching, aquatint, drypoint and burin, 1799, by Francisco de Goya (Spanish, 1746-1828), National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C., Art Resource, New York, N.Y., Reproduced with permission. Al conde palatino is a print from the Los Caprichos series, published in 1799, by the Spanish painter Francisco de Goya. A contemporary commentary reveals that the image is a warning not to trust the ignorant. The same print in the Prado Museum states: “In all the sciences there are charlatans, who have not studied anything, but know everything, and have a solution for everything. One should have no trust in anything they say. The true learned person distrusts certainty: promises little and achieves much; but Count Palatino does not achieve any of the things he promises.” A quack doctor forces a remedy into a man’s mouth, while two other patients are sick. Goya was inspired in part by British satirists, but his dark views of societal ills are generally more grim, as in this example, which warns of scientific ignorance, practiced by those with wealth and power. (Mary & Michael Grizzard, Cover Art Editors)

                        • Runaways fleeing from the plague, unsigned woodcut from A Looking glass for City and Country, 1630, printed by H. Gosson, (British, 1630). Wellcome Collection. Attribution 4.0 International (CC BY 4.0), Reproduced with permission.
This scene of well-to-do city dwellers fleeing the plague epidemic in 17th-century Britain is timeless, for in current times, there are similar episodes of people fleeing crowded cities during the pandemic of COVID-19. Regardless of the passage of hundreds of years, the idea persists that the safety sought in the country is not viewed the same way by rural dwellers, who view the new arrivals as possibly bearing the disease.
As the 1630 text says “… the terrors of the plague, which makes the country-man shun a Londoner as from a Basilisk [a mythical monster]… whose very sight and eyes seem to carry infection…” Also similar during the 17thcentury plague were the many jobs that were lost, as the text states: “London… how art thou left disconsolate, for lack of thy merchants, and industrious tradesmen…”
In the woodcut, the well-dressed passengers in the coach are accompanied by death, represented  by a skeleton, as they head away from the city walls. Ahead  of them, at their destination, stands another skeleton, presiding over a corpse.
(Mary & Michael Grizzard, Cover Art Editors)
 Volume 70, Issue 10
                          Volume 70, Issue 10
                          15 May 2020
                          Pages 2023–2240
                          Cover image

                          Cover image

                          Runaways fleeing from the plague, unsigned woodcut from A Looking glass for City and Country, 1630, printed by H. Gosson, (British, 1630). Wellcome Collection. Attribution 4.0 International (CC BY 4.0), Reproduced with permission. This scene of well-to-do city dwellers fleeing the plague epidemic in 17th-century Britain is timeless, for in current times, there are similar episodes of people fleeing crowded cities during the pandemic of COVID-19. Regardless of the passage of hundreds of years, the idea persists that the safety sought in the country is not viewed the same way by rural dwellers, who view the new arrivals as possibly bearing the disease. As the 1630 text says “… the terrors of the plague, which makes the country-man shun a Londoner as from a Basilisk [a mythical monster]… whose very sight and eyes seem to carry infection…” Also similar during the 17thcentury plague were the many jobs that were lost, as the text states: “London… how art thou left disconsolate, for lack of thy merchants, and industrious tradesmen…” In the woodcut, the well-dressed passengers in the coach are accompanied by death, represented by a skeleton, as they head away from the city walls. Ahead of them, at their destination, stands another skeleton, presiding over a corpse. (Mary & Michael Grizzard, Cover Art Editors)

                        • On the cover: Mass grave site in East
Smithfield, London, showing the skeletal remains
of victims of the Black Death, a plague pandemic
that began in the 14th century. This burial trench
was uncovered in 1986 during construction of the
Royal Mint. It contained the remains of nearly fifty
people, buried up to five bodies deep.
Photo credit: Museum of London Archaeology Volume 70, Issue Supplement_1
                          Volume 70, Issue Supplement_1
                          1 May 2020
                          Cover image

                          Cover image

                          On the cover: Mass grave site in East Smithfield, London, showing the skeletal remains of victims of the Black Death, a plague pandemic that began in the 14th century. This burial trench was uncovered in 1986 during construction of the Royal Mint. It contained the remains of nearly fifty people, buried up to five bodies deep. Photo credit: Museum of London Archaeology

                        • On the cover: Cupid Mourns the Death of Queen
Mary II, Who Died of Smallpox, mezzotint, 1694, by
J.Smith (British, 1652-1743), after Godfrey Kneller
(British, 1646-1723), Wellcome Library, London,
UK. Reproduced with permission.
Queen Mary II died of smallpox in 1694 when
she was only 32, at a time in which Britain was
heavily affected by this disease, according to
the the English historian Macaulay, who wrote
that “the smallpox was always present, filling
the church-yards with corpses, tormenting with
constant fears all whom it had not yet stricken…”
Her death was mourned by all members of
Parliament standing in the streets as her hearse
passed by, and also honored with commemorative
prints such as this. Her death was only 11 months
after signing a charter to establish the College
of William & Mary in Virginia, and unfortunately,
just 27 years before variolation was introduced to
Britain by Lady Mary Wortley Montague
(Mary & Michael Grizzard, Cover Art Editors) Volume 70, Issue 11
                          Volume 70, Issue 11
                          1 June 2020
                          Pages 2241–2459
                          Cover image

                          Cover image

                          On the cover: Cupid Mourns the Death of Queen Mary II, Who Died of Smallpox, mezzotint, 1694, by J.Smith (British, 1652-1743), after Godfrey Kneller (British, 1646-1723), Wellcome Library, London, UK. Reproduced with permission. Queen Mary II died of smallpox in 1694 when she was only 32, at a time in which Britain was heavily affected by this disease, according to the the English historian Macaulay, who wrote that “the smallpox was always present, filling the church-yards with corpses, tormenting with constant fears all whom it had not yet stricken…” Her death was mourned by all members of Parliament standing in the streets as her hearse passed by, and also honored with commemorative prints such as this. Her death was only 11 months after signing a charter to establish the College of William & Mary in Virginia, and unfortunately, just 27 years before variolation was introduced to Britain by Lady Mary Wortley Montague (Mary & Michael Grizzard, Cover Art Editors)

                        • On the cover: Model Alligator, 1801-1900,
taxidermist unknown, (English) Wellcome
Collection, London, England. Reproduced with
permission.
The workshop of a medieval apothecary
was never complete without a stuffed alligator
suspended from the ceiling. Perhaps the replica
was a show of wealth or simply to attract
customers.
Such stuffed reptiles appear to have been
the symbols of the profession and worthy of a
reference by William Shakespeare in Romeo and
Juliet in which he describes an apothecary in
which hangs “An alligator stuff’d, and others skins
of ill-shaped fishes”.
Apothecaries were the pharmacy of the medical
profession and would be the destination of those
seeking a cure for a debilitating or embarrassing
affliction. Mercury for syphilis, quinine for malaria,
honey for a variety of infections and garlic for
plague are but a few of the ingredients in the
apothecary’s armamentarium.
(Mary & Michael Grizzard, Cover Art Editors)
 Volume 70, Issue 12
                          Volume 70, Issue 12
                          15 June 2020
                          Pages 2461–2752
                          Cover image

                          Cover image

                          On the cover: Model Alligator, 1801-1900, taxidermist unknown, (English) Wellcome Collection, London, England. Reproduced with permission. The workshop of a medieval apothecary was never complete without a stuffed alligator suspended from the ceiling. Perhaps the replica was a show of wealth or simply to attract customers. Such stuffed reptiles appear to have been the symbols of the profession and worthy of a reference by William Shakespeare in Romeo and Juliet in which he describes an apothecary in which hangs “An alligator stuff’d, and others skins of ill-shaped fishes”. Apothecaries were the pharmacy of the medical profession and would be the destination of those seeking a cure for a debilitating or embarrassing affliction. Mercury for syphilis, quinine for malaria, honey for a variety of infections and garlic for plague are but a few of the ingredients in the apothecary’s armamentarium. (Mary & Michael Grizzard, Cover Art Editors)

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