Sweating sickness. The disease that killed thousands

In 16th-century England, a disease emerged that killed within hours. Today, we still don’t know what caused it. The English sweating sickness – for that is what we’re discussing – haunted Europe for seventy years, only to vanish as mysteriously as it had appeared.

Death Within a Single Day

The first epidemic erupted in August 1485, shortly after Henry VII landed in Wales. The disease swept through his army and then reached London. In just six weeks, the capital lost tens of thousands of inhabitants. By comparison, medieval plague killed over days or weeks, while the English sweat could strike a person down between breakfast and supper.

Tudor-era physicians were helpless against the lightning-fast progression of the illness. Hospitals as we know them didn’t exist then, and medicine relied primarily on humoral theory and bloodletting. Most therapies – from leeches to prayers – not only failed to help but often further weakened the body. In a society where hygiene was a luxury available to few, the disease spread with terrifying ease.

The strangest feature of the English sweat was its selectivity. The epidemic spared children and the elderly, attacking primarily men in their prime. It struck in summer or early autumn, never in winter. After a few weeks, it vanished without a trace, as if it had never existed. This irregularity and unpredictability inspired more fear than the mortality rate itself.

Europe in the Shadow of Epidemic

The second half of the 1520s brought the greatest catastrophe. In 1528, the disease left the British Isles and moved onto the continent. Germany, Denmark, Sweden, Norway – everywhere, people who felt healthy in the morning lay dying in fever by evening. Hamburg lost a thousand residents, Gdańsk three thousand. In Hanseatic cities, where trade connected distant regions, the English sweat spread along merchant routes.

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What the disease didn’t do is fascinating. France and Italy, countries with developed urban culture and intensive contacts with the rest of Europe, remained untouched. No contemporary epidemiological theory convincingly explains why political borders would stop a contagion spreading between people. Perhaps the Mediterranean climate didn’t favor the pathogen’s survival, but this is mere speculation.

Between epidemics, life returned to normal. Cities rebuilt their population losses, trade revived, royal courts resumed operations. Yet fear remained – each summer brought the question of whether the disease would return. Society lived in the shadow of a threat that could neither be predicted nor controlled.

Fear at the Royal Court

Henry VIII, known for his passion for medicine, responded to the epidemic in a manner characteristic of monarchs of that era. He surrounded himself with the kingdom’s finest physicians and constantly changed residences, fleeing from the disease. He mixed his own medicines from herbs, roots, and exotic ingredients – from powdered pearls to lead oxide. He sent these to loved ones, believing in their efficacy.

The royal court then functioned as the center of power and culture, concentrating hundreds of people in a confined space. Such concentration facilitated the spread of infectious diseases. When the English sweat appeared nearby, the entire court fell into paralysis. Audiences were canceled, ceremonies postponed, and nobility dispersed to country estates.

Interestingly, the disease showed no respect for social status. In 1502, it probably killed Arthur Tudor, heir to the throne. His death changed English history – it was thanks to this that his younger brother became ruler, Henry VIII. The disease shaped the fate of dynasty and state as effectively as wars or conspiracies.

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A Medical Mystery

John Caius, physician to Mary I Tudor, left the most detailed description of the disease. His 16th-century treatise is one of the few sources that allow us to reconstruct the course of the epidemic today. Caius suspected that the cause was filth and bad air – a theory typical of pre-modern medicine.

Contemporary researchers consider various hypotheses. Some point to hantaviruses transmitted by rodents, others to a form of influenza or typhus. There’s also a theory about anthrax or an exotic variant of hemorrhagic fever. The problem is that no disease known today fully matches the description of the English sweat. The combination of lightning-fast progression, seasonality, and sudden disappearance finds no counterpart in medical annals.

The last epidemic in 1551 claimed fifteen to twenty thousand English lives. Then the disease vanished. No later epidemic had similar symptoms. The English sweating sickness remains one of the unsolved mysteries of medical history – a reminder that nature can surprise us in ways we cannot predict or comprehend.

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Marcus Renfell
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Marcus Renfell is a historian driven by curiosity and passion. He refuses to accept the “safe,” polished versions of the past. Instead, he brings forgotten, overlooked, and distorted stories back to life. His work blends scholarly precision with the art of storytelling, turning historical narratives into vivid, page-turning experiences.
His mission is simple: to prove that history can be gripping, alive, and deeply personal.

His debut book: Women of Science. Stories You Were Never Told

In his first publication, Marcus Renfell shines a light on the remarkable women who shaped the world of science — both the pioneers whose names we know and the brilliant minds history forgot. It’s an inspiring journey through untold stories, groundbreaking achievements, and the resilience of women who changed our understanding of the world.

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