Now let any man judge from a case like this if it is possible for

the regulations of magistrates, either by shutting up the sick or

removing them, to stop an infection which spreads itself from man

to man even while they are perfectly well and insensible of its

approach, and may be so for many days.

It may be proper to ask here how long it may be supposed men

might have the seeds of the contagion in them before it

discovered itself in this fatal manner, and how long they might

go about seemingly whole, and yet be contagious to all those that

came near them. I believe the most experienced physicians cannot

answer this question directly any more than I can; and something

an ordinary observer may take notice of, which may pass their

observations. The opinion of physicians abroad seems to be that

it may lie dormant in the spirits or in the blood-vessels a very

considerable time. Why else do they exact a quarantine of those

who came into their harbours and ports from suspected places?

Forty days is, one would think, too long for nature to struggle

with such an enemy as this, and not conquer it or yield to it.

But I could not think, by my own observation, that they can be

infected so as to be contagious to others above fifteen or

sixteen days at furthest; and on that score it was, that when a

house was shut up in the city and any one had died of the plague,

but nobody appeared to be ill in the family for sixteen or

eighteen days after, they were not so strict but that they would

connive at their going privately abroad; nor would people be much

afraid of them afterward, but rather think they were fortified

the better, having not been vulnerable when the enemy was in

their own house; but we sometimes found it had lain much longer

concealed.

Upon the foot of all these observations I must say that though

Providence seemed to direct my conduct to be otherwise, yet it is

my opinion, and I must leave it as a prescription, viz., that the

best physic against the plague is to run away from it. I know

people encourage themselves by saying God is able to keep us in

the midst of danger, and able to overtake us when we think

ourselves out of danger; and this kept thousands in the town

whose carcases went into the great pits by cartloads, and who, if

they had fled from the danger, had, I believe, been safe from the

disaster; at least ’tis probable they had been safe.

And were this very fundamental only duly considered by the people

on any future occasion of this or the like nature, I am persuaded

it would put them upon quite different measures for managing the

people from those that they took in 1665, or than any that have

been taken abroad that I have heard of. In a word, they would

consider of separating the people into smaller bodies, and

removing them in time farther from one another—and not let such a

contagion as this, which is indeed chiefly dangerous to collected

bodies of people, find a million of people in a body together, as

was very near the case before, and would certainly be the case if

it should ever appear again.

The plague, like a great fire, if a few houses only are

contiguous where it happens, can only burn a few houses; or if it

begins in a single, or, as we call it, a lone house, can only

burn that lone house where it begins. But if it begins in a

close-built town or city and gets a head, there its fury

increases: it rages over the whole place, and consumes all it can

reach.

I could propose many schemes on the foot of which the government

of this city, if ever they should be under the apprehensions of

such another enemy (God forbid they should), might ease

themselves of the greatest part of the dangerous people that

belong to them; I mean such as the begging, starving, labouring

poor, and among them chiefly those who, in case of a siege, are

called the useless mouths; who being then prudently and to their

own advantage disposed of, and the wealthy inhabitants disposing

of themselves and of their servants and children, the city and

its adjacent parts would be so effectually evacuated that there

would not be above a tenth part of its people left together for

the disease to take hold upon. But suppose them to be a fifth

part, and that two hundred and fifty thousand people were left:

and if it did seize upon them, they would, by their living so

much at large, be much better prepared to defend themselves

against the infection, and be less liable to the effects of it

than if the same number of people lived close together in one

smaller city such as Dublin or Amsterdam or the like.

It is true hundreds, yea, thousands of families fled away at this

last plague, but then of them, many fled too late, and not only

died in their flight, but carried the distemper with them into

the countries where they went and infected those whom they went

among for safety; which confounded the thing, and made that be a

propagation of the distemper which was the best means to prevent

it; and this too is an evidence of it, and brings me back to what

I only hinted at before, but must speak more fully to here,

namely, that men went about apparently well many days after they

had the taint of the disease in their vitals, and after their

spirits were so seized as that they could never escape it, and

that all the while they did so they were dangerous to others; I

say, this proves that so it was; for such people infected the

very towns they went through, as well as the families they went

among; and it was by that means that almost all the great towns

in England had the distemper among them, more or less, and always

they would tell you such a Londoner or such a Londoner brought it

down.

It must not be omitted that when I speak of those people who were

really thus dangerous, I suppose them to be utterly ignorant of

their own conditions; for if they really knew their circumstances

to be such as indeed they were, they must have been a kind of

wilful murtherers if they would have gone abroad among healthy

people—and it would have verified indeed the suggestion which I

mentioned above, and which I thought seemed untrue: viz., that

the infected people were utterly careless as to giving the

infection to others, and rather forward to do it than not; and I

believe it was partly from this very thing that they raised that

suggestion, which I hope was not really true in fact.

I confess no particular case is sufficient to prove a general,

but I could name several people within the knowledge of some of

their neighbours and families yet living who showed the contrary

to an extreme. One man, a master of a family in my neighbourhood,

having had the distemper, he thought he had it given him by a

poor workman whom he employed, and whom he went to his house to

see, or went for some work that he wanted to have finished; and

he had some apprehensions even while he was at the poor workman’s

door, but did not discover it fully; but the next day it

discovered itself, and he was taken very in, upon which he

immediately caused himself to be carried into an outbuilding

which he had in his yard, and where there was a chamber over a

workhouse (the man being a brazier). Here he lay, and here he

died, and would be tended by none of his neighbours, but by a

nurse from abroad; and would not suffer his wife, nor children,

nor servants to come up into the room, lest they should be

infected—but sent them his blessing and prayers for them by the

nurse, who spoke it to them at a distance, and all this for fear

of giving them the distemper; and without which he knew, as they

were kept up, they could not have it.

And here I must observe also that the plague, as I suppose all

distempers do, operated in a different manner on differing

constitutions; some were immediately overwhelmed with it, and it

came to violent fevers, vomitings, insufferable headaches, pains

in the back, and so up to ravings and ragings with those pains;

others with swellings and tumours in the neck or groin, or

armpits, which till they could be broke put them into

insufferable agonies and torment; while others, as I have

observed, were silently infected, the fever preying upon their

spirits insensibly, and they seeing little of it till they fell

into swooning, and faintings, and death without pain. I am not

physician enough to enter into the particular reasons and manner

of these differing effects of one and the same distemper, and of

its differing operation in several bodies; nor is it my business

here to record the observations which I really made, because the

doctors themselves have done that part much more effectually than

I can do, and because my opinion may in some things differ from

theirs. I am only relating what I know, or have heard, or believe

of the particular cases, and what fell within the compass of my

view, and the different nature of the infection as it appeared in

the particular cases which I have related; but this may be added

too: that though the former sort of those cases, namely, those

openly visited, were the worst for themselves as to pain—I mean

those that had such fevers, vomitings, headaches, pains, and

swellings, because they died in such a dreadful manner—yet the

latter had the worst state of the disease; for in the former they

frequently recovered, especially if the swellings broke; but the

latter was inevitable death; no cure, no help, could be possible,

nothing could follow but death. And it was worse also to others,

because, as above, it secretly and unperceived by others or by

themselves, communicated death to those they conversed with, the

penetrating poison insinuating itself into their blood in a

manner which it is impossible to describe, or indeed conceive.

This infecting and being infected without so much as its being

known to either person is evident from two sorts of cases which

frequently happened at that time; and there is hardly anybody

living who was in London during the infection but must have known

several of the cases of both sorts.

(1) Fathers and mothers have gone about as if they had been well,

and have believed themselves to be so, till they have insensibly

infected and been the destruction of their whole families, which

they would have been far from doing if they had the least

apprehensions of their being unsound and dangerous themselves. A

family, whose story I have heard, was thus infected by the

father; and the distemper began to appear upon some of them even

before he found it upon himself. But searching more narrowly, it

appeared he had been affected some time; and as soon as he found

that his family had been poisoned by himself he went distracted,

and would have laid violent hands upon himself, but was kept from

that by those who looked to him, and in a few days died.

(2) The other particular is, that many people having been well to

the best of their own judgement, or by the best observation which

they could make of themselves for several days, and only finding

a decay of appetite, or a light sickness upon their stomachs;

nay, some whose appetite has been strong, and even craving, and

only a light pain in their heads, have sent for physicians to

know what ailed them, and have been found, to their great

surprise, at the brink of death: the tokens upon them, or the

plague grown up to an incurable height.

It was very sad to reflect how such a person as this last

mentioned above had been a walking destroyer perhaps for a week

or a fortnight before that; how he had ruined those that he would

have hazarded his life to save, and had been breathing death upon

them, even perhaps in his tender kissing and embracings of his

own children. Yet thus certainly it was, and often has been, and

I could give many particular cases where it has been so. If then

the blow is thus insensibly striking—if the arrow flies thus

unseen, and cannot be discovered—to what purpose are all the

schemes for shutting up or removing the sick people? Those

schemes cannot take place but upon those that appear to be sick,

or to be infected; whereas there are among them at the same time

thousands of people who seem to be well, but are all that while

carrying death with them into all companies which they come into.

This frequently puzzled our physicians, and especially the

apothecaries and surgeons, who knew not how to discover the sick

from the sound; they all allowed that it was really so, that many

people had the plague in their very blood, and preying upon their

spirits, and were in themselves but walking putrefied carcases

whose breath was infectious and their sweat poison, and yet were

as well to look on as other people, and even knew it not

themselves; I say, they all allowed that it was really true in

fact, but they knew not how to propose a discovery.

My friend Dr Heath was of opinion that it might be known by the

smell of their breath; but then, as he said, who durst smell to

that breath for his information? since, to know it, he must draw

the stench of the plague up into his own brain, in order to

distinguish the smell! I have heard it was the opinion of others

that it might be distinguished by the party’s breathing upon a

piece of glass, where, the breath condensing, there might living

creatures be seen by a microscope, of strange, monstrous, and

frightful shapes, such as dragons, snakes, serpents, and devils,

horrible to behold. But this I very much question the truth of,

and we had no microscopes at that time, as I remember, to make

the experiment with.

It was the opinion also of another learned man, that the breath

of such a person would poison and instantly kill a bird; not only

a small bird, but even a cock or hen, and that, if it did not

immediately kill the latter, it would cause them to be roupy, as

they call it; particularly that if they had laid any eggs at any

time, they would be all rotten. But those are opinions which I

never found supported by any experiments, or heard of others that

had seen it; so I leave them as I find them; only with this

remark, namely, that I think the probabilities are very strong

for them.

Some have proposed that such persons should breathe hard upon

warm water, and that they would leave an unusual scum upon it, or

upon several other things, especially such as are of a glutinous

substance and are apt to receive a scum and support it.

But from the whole I found that the nature of this contagion was

such that it was impossible to discover it at all, or to prevent

its spreading from one to another by any human skill.

Here was indeed one difficulty which I could never thoroughly get

over to this time, and which there is but one way of answering

that I know of, and it is this, viz., the first person that died

of the plague was on December 20, or thereabouts, 1664, and in or

about long Acre; whence the first person had the infection was

generally said to be from a parcel of silks imported from

Holland, and first opened in that house.

But after this we heard no more of any person dying of the

plague, or of the distemper being in that place, till the 9th of

February, which was about seven weeks after, and then one more

was buried out of the same house. Then it was hushed, and we were

perfectly easy as to the public for a great while; for there were

no more entered in the weekly bill to be dead of the plague till

the 22nd of April, when there was two more buried, not out of the

same house, but out of the same street; and, as near as I can

remember, it was out of the next house to the first. This was

nine weeks asunder, and after this we had no more till a

fortnight, and then it broke out in several streets and spread

every way. Now the question seems to lie thus: Where lay the

seeds of the infection all this while? How came it to stop so

long, and not stop any longer? Either the distemper did not come

immediately by contagion from body to body, or, if it did, then a

body may be capable to continue infected without the disease

discovering itself many days, nay, weeks together; even not a

quarantine of days only, but soixantine; not only forty days, but

sixty days or longer.

It is true there was, as I observed at first, and is well known

to many yet living, a very cold winter and a long frost which

continued three months; and this, the doctors say, might check

the infection; but then the learned must allow me to say that if,

according to their notion, the disease was (as I may say) only

frozen up, it would like a frozen river have returned to its

usual force and current when it thawed—whereas the principal

recess of this infection, which was from February to April, was

after the frost was broken and the weather mild and warm.

But there is another way of solving all this difficulty, which I

think my own remembrance of the thing will supply; and that is,

the fact is not granted—namely, that there died none in those

long intervals, viz., from the 20th of December to the 9th of

February, and from thence to the 22nd of April. The weekly bills

are the only evidence on the other side, and those bills were not

of credit enough, at least with me, to support an hypothesis or

determine a question of such importance as this; for it was our

received opinion at that time, and I believe upon very good

grounds, that the fraud lay in the parish officers, searchers,

and persons appointed to give account of the dead, and what

diseases they died of; and as people were very loth at first to

have the neighbours believe their houses were infected, so they

gave money to procure, or otherwise procured, the dead persons to

be returned as dying of other distempers; and this I know was

practised afterwards in many places, I believe I might say in all

places where the distemper came, as will be seen by the vast

increase of the numbers placed in the weekly bills under other

articles of diseases during the time of the infection. For

example, in the months of July and August, when the plague was

coming on to its highest pitch, it was very ordinary to have from

a thousand to twelve hundred, nay, to almost fifteen hundred a

week of other distempers. Not that the numbers of those

distempers were really increased to such a degree, but the great

number of families and houses where really the infection was,

obtained the favour to have their dead be returned of other

distempers, to prevent the shutting up their houses. For

example:—

Dead of other diseases beside the plague—

From the 18th July to the 25th 942

” 25th July ” 1st August 1004

” 1st August ” 8th 1213

” 8th ” 15th 1439

” 15th ” 22nd 1331

” 22nd ” 29th 1394

” 29th ” 5th September 1264

” 5th September to the 12th 1056

” 12th ” 19th 1132

” 19th ” 26th 927

Now it was not doubted but the greatest part of these, or a great

part of them, were dead of the plague, but the officers were

prevailed with to return them as above, and the numbers of some

particular articles of distempers discovered is as follows:—

Aug. Aug. Aug. Aug. Aug. Sept. Sept. Sept.

1 8 15 22 29 5 12 19

to 8 to 15 to 22 to 29 to Sept.5 to 12 to 19 to 26

Fever 314 353 348 383 364 332 309 268

Spotted 174 190 166 165 157 97 101 65

Fever

Surfeit 85 87 74 99 68 45 49 36

Teeth 90 113 111 133 138 128 121 112

—— —— —— —— —— —— —— ——

663 743 699 780 727 602 580 481

There were several other articles which bore a proportion to

these, and which, it is easy to perceive, were increased on the

same account, as aged, consumptions, vomitings, imposthumes,

gripes, and the like, many of which were not doubted to be

infected people; but as it was of the utmost consequence to

families not to be known to be infected, if it was possible to

avoid it, so they took all the measures they could to have it not

believed, and if any died in their houses, to get them returned

to the examiners, and by the searchers, as having died of other

distempers.

This, I say, will account for the long interval which, as I have

said, was between the dying of the first persons that were

returned in the bill to be dead of the plague and the time when

the distemper spread openly and could not be concealed.

Besides, the weekly bills themselves at that time evidently

discover the truth; for, while there was no mention of the

plague, and no increase after it had been mentioned, yet it was

apparent that there was an increase of those distempers which

bordered nearest upon it; for example, there were eight, twelve,

seventeen of the spotted fever in a week, when there were none,

or but very few, of the plague; whereas before, one, three, or

four were the ordinary weekly numbers of that distemper.

Likewise, as I observed before, the burials increased weekly in

that particular parish and the parishes adjacent more than in any

other parish, although there were none set down of the plague;

all which tells us, that the infection was handed on, and the

succession of the distemper really preserved, though it seemed to

us at that time to be ceased, and to come again in a manner

surprising.

It might be, also, that the infection might remain in other parts

of the same parcel of goods which at first it came in, and which

might not be perhaps opened, or at least not fully, or in the

clothes of the first infected person; for I cannot think that

anybody could be seized with the contagion in a fatal and mortal

degree for nine weeks together, and support his state of health

so well as even not to discover it to themselves; yet if it were

so, the argument is the stronger in favour of what I am saying:

namely, that the infection is retained in bodies apparently well,

and conveyed from them to those they converse with, while it is

known to neither the one nor the other.

Great were the confusions at that time upon this very account,

and when people began to be convinced that the infection was

received in this surprising manner from persons apparently well,

they began to be exceeding shy and jealous of every one that came

near them. Once, on a public day, whether a Sabbath-day or not I

do not remember, in Aldgate Church, in a pew full of people, on a

sudden one fancied she smelt an ill smell. Immediately she

fancies the plague was in the pew, whispers her notion or

suspicion to the next, then rises and goes out of the pew. It

immediately took with the next, and so to them all; and every one

of them, and of the two or three adjoining pews, got up and went

out of the church, nobody knowing what it was offended them, or

from whom.

This immediately filled everybody’s mouths with one preparation

or other, such as the old woman directed, and some perhaps as

physicians directed, in order to prevent infection by the breath

of others; insomuch that if we came to go into a church when it

was anything full of people, there would be such a mixture of

smells at the entrance that it was much more strong, though

perhaps not so wholesome, than if you were going into an

apothecary’s or druggist’s shop. In a word, the whole church was

like a smelling-bottle; in one corner it was all perfumes; in

another, aromatics, balsamics, and variety of drugs and herbs; in

another, salts and spirits, as every one was furnished for their

own preservation. Yet I observed that after people were

possessed, as I have said, with the belief, or rather assurance,

of the infection being thus carried on by persons apparently in

health, the churches and meeting-houses were much thinner of

people than at other times before that they used to be. For this

is to be said of the people of London, that during the whole time

of the pestilence the churches or meetings were never wholly shut

up, nor did the people decline coming out to the public worship

of God, except only in some parishes when the violence of the

distemper was more particularly in that parish at that time, and

even then no longer than it continued to be so.

Indeed nothing was more strange than to see with what courage the

people went to the public service of God, even at that time when

they were afraid to stir out of their own houses upon any other

occasion; this, I mean, before the time of desperation, which I

have mentioned already. This was a proof of the exceeding

populousness of the city at the time of the infection,

notwithstanding the great numbers that were gone into the country

at the first alarm, and that fled out into the forests and woods

when they were further terrified with the extraordinary increase

of it. For when we came to see the crowds and throngs of people

which appeared on the Sabbath-days at the churches, and

especially in those parts of the town where the plague was

abated, or where it was not yet come to its height, it was

amazing. But of this I shall speak again presently. I return in

the meantime to the article of infecting one another at first,

before people came to right notions of the infection, and of

infecting one another. People were only shy of those that were

really sick, a man with a cap upon his head, or with clothes

round his neck, which was the case of those that had swellings

there. Such was indeed frightful; but when we saw a gentleman

dressed, with his band on and his gloves in his hand, his hat

upon his head, and his hair combed, of such we had not the least

apprehensions, and people conversed a great while freely,

especially with their neighbours and such as they knew. But when

the physicians assured us that the danger was as well from the

sound (that is, the seemingly sound) as the sick, and that those

people who thought themselves entirely free were oftentimes the

most fatal, and that it came to be generally understood that

people were sensible of it, and of the reason of it; then, I say,

they began to be jealous of everybody, and a vast number of

people locked themselves up, so as not to come abroad into any

company at all, nor suffer any that had been abroad in

promiscuous company to come into their houses, or near them—at

least not so near them as to be within the reach of their breath

or of any smell from them; and when they were obliged to converse

at a distance with strangers, they would always have

preservatives in their mouths and about their clothes to repel

and keep off the infection.

It must be acknowledged that when people began to use these

cautions they were less exposed to danger, and the infection did

not break into such houses so furiously as it did into others

before; and thousands of families were preserved (speaking with

due reserve to the direction of Divine Providence) by that means.

But it was impossible to beat anything into the heads of the

poor. They went on with the usual impetuosity of their tempers,

full of outcries and lamentations when taken, but madly careless

of themselves, foolhardy and obstinate, while they were well.

Where they could get employment they pushed into any kind of

business, the most dangerous and the most liable to infection;

and if they were spoken to, their answer would be, ‘I must trust

to God for that; if I am taken, then I am provided for, and there

is an end of me’, and the like. Or thus, ‘Why, what must I do? I

can’t starve. I had as good have the plague as perish for want. I

have no work; what could I do? I must do this or beg.’ Suppose it

was burying the dead, or attending the sick, or watching infected

houses, which were all terrible hazards; but their tale was

generally the same. It is true, necessity was a very justifiable,

warrantable plea, and nothing could be better; but their way of

talk was much the same where the necessities were not the same.

This adventurous conduct of the poor was that which brought the

plague among them in a most furious manner; and this, joined to

the distress of their circumstances when taken, was the reason

why they died so by heaps; for I cannot say I could observe one

jot of better husbandry among them, I mean the labouring poor,

while they were all well and getting money than there was before,

but as lavish, as extravagant, and as thoughtless for tomorrow as

ever; so that when they came to be taken sick they were

immediately in the utmost distress, as well for want as for

sickness, as well for lack of food as lack of health.

This misery of the poor I had many occasions to be an eyewitness

of, and sometimes also of the charitable assistance that some

pious people daily gave to such, sending them relief and supplies

both of food, physic, and other help, as they found they wanted;

and indeed it is a debt of justice due to the temper of the

people of that day to take notice here, that not only great sums,

very great sums of money were charitably sent to the Lord Mayor

and aldermen for the assistance and support of the poor

distempered people, but abundance of private people daily

distributed large sums of money for their relief, and sent people

about to inquire into the condition of particular distressed and

visited families, and relieved them; nay, some pious ladies were

so transported with zeal in so good a work, and so confident in

the protection of Providence in discharge of the great duty of

charity, that they went about in person distributing alms to the

poor, and even visiting poor families, though sick and infected,

in their very houses, appointing nurses to attend those that

wanted attending, and ordering apothecaries and surgeons, the

first to supply them with drugs or plasters, and such things as

they wanted; and the last to lance and dress the swellings and

tumours, where such were wanting; giving their blessing to the

poor in substantial relief to them, as well as hearty prayers for

them.

I will not undertake to say, as some do, that none of those

charitable people were suffered to fall under the calamity

itself; but this I may say, that I never knew any one of them

that miscarried, which I mention for the encouragement of others

in case of the like distress; and doubtless, if they that give to

the poor lend to the Lord, and He will repay them, those that

hazard their lives to give to the poor, and to comfort and assist

the poor in such a misery as this, may hope to be protected in

the work.

Nor was this charity so extraordinary eminent only in a few, but

(for I cannot lightly quit this point) the charity of the rich,

as well in the city and suburbs as from the country, was so great

that, in a word, a prodigious number of people who must otherwise

inevitably have perished for want as well as sickness were

supported and subsisted by it; and though I could never, nor I

believe any one else, come to a full knowledge of what was so

contributed, yet I do believe that, as I heard one say that was a

critical observer of that part, there was not only many thousand

pounds contributed, but many hundred thousand pounds, to the

relief of the poor of this distressed, afflicted city; nay, one

man affirmed to me that he could reckon up above one hundred

thousand pounds a week, which was distributed by the

churchwardens at the several parish vestries by the Lord Mayor

and aldermen in the several wards and precincts, and by the

particular direction of the court and of the justices

respectively in the parts where they resided, over and above the

private charity distributed by pious bands in the manner I speak

of; and this continued for many weeks together.

I confess this is a very great sum; but if it be true that there

was distributed in the parish of Cripplegate only, 17,800 in one

week to the relief of the poor, as I heard reported, and which I

really believe was true, the other may not be improbable.

It was doubtless to be reckoned among the many signal good

providences which attended this great city, and of which there

were many other worth recording,—I say, this was a very

remarkable one, that it pleased God thus to move the hearts of

the people in all parts of the kingdom so cheerfully to

contribute to the relief and support of the poor at London, the

good consequences of which were felt many ways, and particularly

in preserving the lives and recovering the health of so many

thousands, and keeping so many thousands of families from

perishing and starving.

And now I am talking of the merciful disposition of Providence in

this time of calamity, I cannot but mention again, though I have

spoken several times of it already on other accounts, I mean that

of the progression of the distemper; how it began at one end of

the town, and proceeded gradually and slowly from one part to

another, and like a dark cloud that passes over our heads, which,

as it thickens and overcasts the air at one end, clears up at the

other end; so, while the plague went on raging from west to east,

as it went forwards east, it abated in the west, by which means

those parts of the town which were not seized, or who were left,

and where it had spent its fury, were (as it were) spared to help

and assist the other; whereas, had the distemper spread itself

over the whole city and suburbs, at once, raging in all places

alike, as it has done since in some places abroad, the whole body

of the people must have been overwhelmed, and there would have

died twenty thousand a day, as they say there did at Naples; nor

would the people have been able to have helped or assisted one

another.

For it must be observed that where the plague was in its full

force, there indeed the people were very miserable, and the

consternation was inexpressible. But a little before it reached

even to that place, or presently after it was gone, they were

quite another sort of people; and I cannot but acknowledge that

there was too much of that common temper of mankind to be found

among us all at that time, namely, to forget the deliverance when

the danger is past. But I shall come to speak of that part again.

It must not be forgot here to take some notice of the state of

trade during the time of this common calamity, and this with

respect to foreign trade, as also to our home trade.

As to foreign trade, there needs little to be said. The trading

nations of Europe were all afraid of us; no port of France, or

Holland, or Spain, or Italy would admit our ships or correspond

with us; indeed we stood on ill terms with the Dutch, and were in

a furious war with them, but though in a bad condition to fight

abroad, who had such dreadful enemies to struggle with at home.

Our merchants were accordingly at a full stop; their ships could

go nowhere—that is to say, to no place abroad; their manufactures

and merchandise—that is to say, of our growth—would not be

touched abroad. They were as much afraid of our goods as they

were of our people; and indeed they had reason: for our woollen

manufactures are as retentive of infection as human bodies, and

if packed up by persons infected, would receive the infection and

be as dangerous to touch as a man would be that was infected; and

therefore, when any English vessel arrived in foreign countries,

if they did take the goods on shore, they always caused the bales

to be opened and aired in places appointed for that purpose. But

from London they would not suffer them to come into port, much

less to unlade their goods, upon any terms whatever, and this

strictness was especially used with them in Spain and Italy. In

Turkey and the islands of the Arches indeed, as they are called,

as well those belonging to the Turks as to the Venetians, they

were not so very rigid. In the first there was no obstruction at

all; and four ships which were then in the river loading for

Italy—that is, for Leghorn and Naples—being denied product, as

they call it, went on to Turkey, and were freely admitted to

unlade their cargo without any difficulty; only that when they

arrived there, some of their cargo was not fit for sale in that

country; and other parts of it being consigned to merchants at

Leghorn, the captains of the ships had no right nor any orders to

dispose of the goods; so that great inconveniences followed to

the merchants. But this was nothing but what the necessity of

affairs required, and the merchants at Leghorn and Naples having

notice given them, sent again from thence to take care of the

effects which were particularly consigned to those ports, and to

bring back in other ships such as were improper for the markets

at Smyrna and Scanderoon.

The inconveniences in Spain and Portugal were still greater, for

they would by no means suffer our ships, especially those from

London, to come into any of their ports, much less to unlade.

There was a report that one of our ships having by stealth

delivered her cargo, among which was some bales of English cloth,

cotton, kerseys, and such-like goods, the Spaniards caused all

the goods to be burned, and punished the men with death who were

concerned in carrying them on shore. This, I believe, was in part

true, though I do not affirm it; but it is not at all unlikely,

seeing the danger was really very great, the infection being so

violent in London.

I heard likewise that the plague was carried into those countries

by some of our ships, and particularly to the port of Faro in the

kingdom of Algarve, belonging to the King of Portugal, and that

several persons died of it there; but it was not confirmed.

On the other hand, though the Spaniards and Portuguese were so

shy of us, it is most certain that the plague (as has been said)

keeping at first much at that end of the town next Westminster,

the merchandising part of the town (such as the city and the

water-side) was perfectly sound till at least the beginning of

July, and the ships in the river till the beginning of August;

for to the 1st of July there had died but seven within the whole

city, and but sixty within the liberties, but one in all the

parishes of Stepney, Aldgate, and Whitechappel, and but two in

the eight parishes of Southwark. But it was the same thing

abroad, for the bad news was gone over the whole world that the

city of London was infected with the plague, and there was no

inquiring there how the infection proceeded, or at which part of

the town it was begun or was reached to.

Besides, after it began to spread it increased so fast, and the

bills grew so high all on a sudden, that it was to no purpose to

lessen the report of it, or endeavour to make the people abroad

think it better than it was; the account which the weekly bills

gave in was sufficient; and that there died two thousand to three

or four thousand a week was sufficient to alarm the whole trading

part of the world; and the following time, being so dreadful also

in the very city itself, put the whole world, I say, upon their

guard against it.

You may be sure, also, that the report of these things lost

nothing in the carriage. The plague was itself very terrible, and

the distress of the people very great, as you may observe of what

I have said. But the rumour was infinitely greater, and it must

not be wondered that our friends abroad (as my brother’s

correspondents in particular were told there, namely, in Portugal

and Italy, where he chiefly traded) [said] that in London there

died twenty thousand in a week; that the dead bodies lay unburied

by heaps; that the living were not sufficient to bury the dead or

the sound to look after the sick; that all the kingdom was

infected likewise, so that it was an universal malady such as was

never heard of in those parts of the world; and they could hardly

believe us when we gave them an account how things really were,

and how there was not above one-tenth part of the people dead;

that there was 500,000, left that lived all the time in the town;

that now the people began to walk the streets again, and those

who were fled to return, there was no miss of the usual throng of

people in the streets, except as every family might miss their

relations and neighbours, and the like. I say they could not

believe these things; and if inquiry were now to be made in

Naples, or in other cities on the coast of Italy, they would tell

you that there was a dreadful infection in London so many years

ago, in which, as above, there died twenty thousand in a week,

&c., just as we have had it reported in London that there was a

plague in the city of Naples in the year 1656, in which there

died 20,000 people in a day, of which I have had very good

satisfaction that it was utterly false.

But these extravagant reports were very prejudicial to our trade,

as well as unjust and injurious in themselves, for it was a long

time after the plague was quite over before our trade could

recover itself in those parts of the world; and the Flemings and

Dutch (but especially the last) made very great advantages of it,

having all the market to themselves, and even buying our

manufactures in several parts of England where the plague was

not, and carrying them to Holland and Flanders, and from thence

transporting them to Spain and to Italy as if they had been of

their own making.

But they were detected sometimes and punished: that is to say,

their goods confiscated and ships also; for if it was true that

our manufactures as well as our people were infected, and that it

was dangerous to touch or to open and receive the smell of them,

then those people ran the hazard by that clandestine trade not

only of carrying the contagion into their own country, but also

of infecting the nations to whom they traded with those goods;

which, considering how many lives might be lost in consequence of

such an action, must be a trade that no men of conscience could

suffer themselves to be concerned in.

I do not take upon me to say that any harm was done, I mean of

that kind, by those people. But I doubt I need not make any such

proviso in the case of our own country; for either by our people

of London, or by the commerce which made their conversing with

all sorts of people in every country and of every considerable

town necessary, I say, by this means the plague was first or last

spread all over the kingdom, as well in London as in all the

cities and great towns, especially in the trading manufacturing

towns and seaports; so that, first or last, all the considerable

places in England were visited more or less, and the kingdom of

Ireland in some places, but not so universally. How it fared with

the people in Scotland I had no opportunity to inquire.

It is to be observed that while the plague continued so violent

in London, the outports, as they are called, enjoyed a very great

trade, especially to the adjacent countries and to our own

plantations. For example, the towns of Colchester, Yarmouth, and

Hull, on that side of England, exported to Holland and Hamburg

the manufactures of the adjacent countries for several months

after the trade with London was, as it were, entirely shut up;

likewise the cities of Bristol and Exeter, with the port of

Plymouth, had the like advantage to Spain, to the Canaries, to

Guinea, and to the West Indies, and particularly to Ireland; but

as the plague spread itself every way after it had been in London

to such a degree as it was in August and September, so all or

most of those cities and towns were infected first or last; and

then trade was, as it were, under a general embargo or at a full

stop—as I shall observe further when I speak of our home trade.

One thing, however, must be observed: that as to ships coming in

from abroad (as many, you may be sure, did) some who were out in

all parts of the world a considerable while before, and some who

when they went out knew nothing of an infection, or at least of

one so terrible—these came up the river boldly, and delivered

their cargoes as they were obliged to do, except just in the two

months of August and September, when the weight of the infection

lying, as I may say, all below Bridge, nobody durst appear in

business for a while. But as this continued but for a few weeks,

the homeward-bound ships, especially such whose cargoes were not

liable to spoil, came to an anchor for a time short of the

Pool,[5] or fresh-water part of the river, even as low as the

river Medway, where several of them ran in; and others lay at the

Nore, and in the Hope below Gravesend. So that by the latter end

of October there was a very great fleet of homeward-bound ships

to come up, such as the like had not been known for many years.

[5] That part of the river where the ships lie up when they come home

is called the Pool, and takes in all the river on both sides of the

water, from the Tower to Cuckold’s Point and Limehouse. [Footnote in

the original.]

Two particular trades were carried on by water-carriage all the

while of the infection, and that with little or no interruption,

very much to the advantage and comfort of the poor distressed

people of the city: and those were the coasting trade for corn

and the Newcastle trade for coals.

The first of these was particularly carried on by small vessels

from the port of Hull and other places on the Humber, by which

great quantities of corn were brought in from Yorkshire and

Lincolnshire. The other part of this corn-trade was from Lynn, in

Norfolk, from Wells and Burnham, and from Yarmouth, all in the

same county; and the third branch was from the river Medway, and

from Milton, Feversham, Margate, and Sandwich, and all the other

little places and ports round the coast of Kent and Essex.

There was also a very good trade from the coast of Suffolk with

corn, butter, and cheese; these vessels kept a constant course of

trade, and without interruption came up to that market known

still by the name of Bear Key, where they supplied the city

plentifully with corn when land-carriage began to fail, and when

the people began to be sick of coming from many places in the

country.

This also was much of it owing to the prudence and conduct of the

Lord Mayor, who took such care to keep the masters and seamen

from danger when they came up, causing their corn to be bought

off at any time they wanted a market (which, however, was very

seldom), and causing the corn-factors immediately to unlade and

deliver the vessels loaden with corn, that they had very little

occasion to come out of their ships or vessels, the money being

always carried on board to them and put into a pail of vinegar

before it was carried.

The second trade was that of coals from Newcastle-upon-Tyne,

without which the city would have been greatly distressed; for

not in the streets only, but in private houses and families,

great quantities of coals were then burnt, even all the summer

long and when the weather was hottest, which was done by the

advice of the physicians. Some indeed opposed it, and insisted

that to keep the houses and rooms hot was a means to propagate

the temper, which was a fermentation and heat already in the

blood; that it was known to spread and increase in hot weather

and abate in cold; and therefore they alleged that all contagious

distempers are the worse for heat, because the contagion was

nourished and gained strength in hot weather, and was, as it

were, propagated in heat.

Others said they granted that heat in the climate might propagate

infection—as sultry, hot weather fills the air with vermin and

nourishes innumerable numbers and kinds of venomous creatures

which breed in our food, in the plants, and even in our bodies,

by the very stench of which infection may be propagated; also

that heat in the air, or heat of weather, as we ordinarily call

it, makes bodies relax and faint, exhausts the spirits, opens the

pores, and makes us more apt to receive infection, or any evil

influence, be it from noxious pestilential vapours or any other

thing in the air; but that the heat of fire, and especially of

coal fires kept in our houses, or near us, had a quite different

operation; the heat being not of the same kind, but quick and

fierce, tending not to nourish but to consume and dissipate all

those noxious fumes which the other kind of heat rather exhaled

and stagnated than separated and burnt up. Besides, it was

alleged that the sulphurous and nitrous particles that are often

found to be in the coal, with that bituminous substance which

burns, are all assisting to clear and purge the air, and render

it wholesome and safe to breathe in after the noxious particles,

as above, are dispersed and burnt up.

The latter opinion prevailed at that time, and, as I must

confess, I think with good reason; and the experience of the

citizens confirmed it, many houses which had constant fires kept

in the rooms having never been infected at all; and I must join

my experience to it, for I found the keeping good fires kept our

rooms sweet and wholesome, and I do verily believe made our whole

family so, more than would otherwise have been.

But I return to the coals as a trade. It was with no little

difficulty that this trade was kept open, and particularly

because, as we were in an open war with the Dutch at that time,

the Dutch capers at first took a great many of our collier-ships,

which made the rest cautious, and made them to stay to come in

fleets together. But after some time the capers were either

afraid to take them, or their masters, the States, were afraid

they should, and forbade them, lest the plague should be among

them, which made them fare the better.

For the security of those northern traders, the coal-ships were

ordered by my Lord Mayor not to come up into the Pool above a

certain number at a time, and ordered lighters and other vessels

such as the woodmongers (that is, the wharf-keepers or

coal-sellers) furnished, to go down and take out the coals as low

as Deptford and Greenwich, and some farther down.

Others delivered great quantities of coals in particular places

where the ships could come to the shore, as at Greenwich,

Blackwall, and other places, in vast heaps, as if to be kept for

sale; but were then fetched away after the ships which brought

them were gone, so that the seamen had no communication with the

river-men, nor so much as came near one another.

Yet all this caution could not effectually prevent the distemper

getting among the colliery: that is to say among the ships, by

which a great many seamen died of it; and that which was still

worse was, that they carried it down to Ipswich and Yarmouth, to

Newcastle-upon-Tyne, and other places on the coast—where,

especially at Newcastle and at Sunderland, it carried off a great

number of people.

The making so many fires, as above, did indeed consume an unusual

quantity of coals; and that upon one or two stops of the ships

coming up, whether by contrary weather or by the interruption of

enemies I do not remember, but the price of coals was exceeding

dear, even as high as 4 l. a chalder; but it soon abated when the

ships came in, and as afterwards they had a freer passage, the

price was very reasonable all the rest of that year.

The public fires which were made on these occasions, as I have

calculated it, must necessarily have cost the city about 200

chalders of coals a week, if they had continued, which was indeed

a very great quantity; but as it was thought necessary, nothing

was spared. However, as some of the physicians cried them down,

they were not kept alight above four or five days. The fires were

ordered thus:—

One at the Custom House, one at Billingsgate, one at Queenhith,

and one at the Three Cranes; one in Blackfriars, and one at the

gate of Bridewell; one at the corner of Leadenhal Street and

Gracechurch; one at the north and one at the south gate of the

Royal Exchange; one at Guild Hall, and one at Blackwell Hall

gate; one at the Lord Mayor’s door in St Helen’s, one at the west

entrance into St Paul’s, and one at the entrance into Bow Church.

I do not remember whether there was any at the city gates, but

one at the Bridge-foot there was, just by St Magnus Church.

I know some have quarrelled since that at the experiment, and

said that there died the more people because of those fires; but

I am persuaded those that say so offer no evidence to prove it,

neither can I believe it on any account whatever.

It remains to give some account of the state of trade at home in

England during this dreadful time, and particularly as it relates

to the manufactures and the trade in the city. At the first

breaking out of the infection there was, as it is easy to

suppose, a very great fright among the people, and consequently a

general stop of trade, except in provisions and necessaries of

life; and even in those things, as there was a vast number of

people fled and a very great number always sick, besides the

number which died, so there could not be above two-thirds, if

above one-half, of the consumption of provisions in the city as

used to be.

It pleased God to send a very plentiful year of corn and fruit,

but not of hay or grass—by which means bread was cheap, by reason

of the plenty of corn. Flesh was cheap, by reason of the scarcity

of grass; but butter and cheese were dear for the same reason,

and hay in the market just beyond Whitechappel Bars was sold at 4

pound per load. But that affected not the poor. There was a most

excessive plenty of all sorts of fruit, such as apples, pears,

plums, cherries, grapes, and they were the cheaper because of the

want of people; but this made the poor eat them to excess, and

this brought them into fluxes, griping of the guts, surfeits, and

the like, which often precipitated them into the plague.

But to come to matters of trade. First, foreign exportation being

stopped or at least very much interrupted and rendered difficult,

a general stop of all those manufactures followed of course which

were usually brought for exportation; and though sometimes

merchants abroad were importunate for goods, yet little was sent,

the passages being so generally stopped that the English ships

would not be admitted, as is said already, into their port.

This put a stop to the manufactures that were for exportation in

most parts of England, except in some out-ports; and even that

was soon stopped, for they all had the plague in their turn. But

though this was felt all over England, yet, what was still worse,

all intercourse of trade for home consumption of manufactures,

especially those which usually circulated through the Londoner’s

hands, was stopped at once, the trade of the city being stopped.

All kinds of handicrafts in the city, &c., tradesmen and

mechanics, were, as I have said before, out of employ; and this

occasioned the putting-off and dismissing an innumerable number

of journeymen and workmen of all sorts, seeing nothing was done

relating to such trades but what might be said to be absolutely

necessary.

This caused the multitude of single people in London to be

unprovided for, as also families whose living depended upon the

labour of the heads of those families; I say, this reduced them

to extreme misery; and I must confess it is for the honour of the

city of London, and will be for many ages, as long as this is to

be spoken of, that they were able to supply with charitable

provision the wants of so many thousands of those as afterwards

fell sick and were distressed: so that it may be safely averred

that nobody perished for want, at least that the magistrates had

any notice given them of.

This stagnation of our manufacturing trade in the country would

have put the people there to much greater difficulties, but that

the master-workmen, clothiers and others, to the uttermost of

their stocks and strength, kept on making their goods to keep the

poor at work, believing that soon as the sickness should abate

they would have a quick demand in proportion to the decay of

their trade at that time. But as none but those masters that were

rich could do thus, and that many were poor and not able, the

manufacturing trade in England suffered greatly, and the poor

were pinched all over England by the calamity of the city of

London only.

It is true that the next year made them full amends by another

terrible calamity upon the city; so that the city by one calamity

impoverished and weakened the country, and by another calamity,

even terrible too of its kind, enriched the country and made them

again amends; for an infinite quantity of household Stuff,

wearing apparel, and other things, besides whole warehouses

filled with merchandise and manufactures such as come from all

parts of England, were consumed in the fire of London the next

year after this terrible visitation. It is incredible what a

trade this made all over the whole kingdom, to make good the want

and to supply that loss; so that, in short, all the manufacturing

hands in the nation were set on work, and were little enough for

several years to supply the market and answer the demands. All

foreign markets also were empty of our goods by the stop which

had been occasioned by the plague, and before an open trade was

allowed again; and the prodigious demand at home falling in,

joined to make a quick vent for all sort of goods; so that there

never was known such a trade all over England for the time as was

in the first seven years after the plague, and after the fire of

London.

It remains now that I should say something of the merciful part

of this terrible judgement. The last week in September, the

plague being come to its crisis, its fury began to assuage. I

remember my friend Dr Heath, coming to see me the week before,

told me he was sure that the violence of it would assuage in a

few days; but when I saw the weekly bill of that week, which was

the highest of the whole year, being 8297 of all diseases, I

upbraided him with it, and asked him what he had made his

judgement from. His answer, however, was not so much to seek as I

thought it would have been. ‘Look you,’ says he, ‘by the number

which are at this time sick and infected, there should have been

twenty thousand dead the last week instead of eight thousand, if

the inveterate mortal contagion had been as it was two weeks ago;

for then it ordinarily killed in two or three days, now not under

eight or ten; and then not above one in five recovered, whereas I

have observed that now not above two in five miscarry. And,

observe it from me, the next bill will decrease, and you will see

many more people recover than used to do; for though a vast

multitude are now everywhere infected, and as many every day fall

sick, yet there will not so many die as there did, for the

malignity of the distemper is abated’;—adding that he began now

to hope, nay, more than hope, that the infection had passed its

crisis and was going off; and accordingly so it was, for the next

week being, as I said, the last in September, the bill decreased

almost two thousand.

It is true the plague was still at a frightful height, and the

next bill was no less than 6460, and the next to that, 5720; but

still my friend’s observation was just, and it did appear the

people did recover faster and more in number than they used to

do; and indeed, if it had not been so, what had been the

condition of the city of London? For, according to my friend,

there were not fewer than 60,000 people at that time infected,

whereof, as above, 20,477 died, and near 40,000 recovered;

whereas, had it been as it was before, 50,000 of that number

would very probably have died, if not more, and 50,000 more would

have sickened; for, in a word, the whole mass of people began to

sicken, and it looked as if none would escape.

But this remark of my friend’s appeared more evident in a few

weeks more, for the decrease went on, and another week in October

it decreased 1843, so that the number dead of the plague was but

2665; and the next week it decreased 1413 more, and yet it was

seen plainly that there was abundance of people sick, nay,

abundance more than ordinary, and abundance fell sick every day

but (as above) the malignity of the disease abated.

Such is the precipitant disposition of our people (whether it is

so or not all over the world, that’s none of my particular

business to inquire), but I saw it apparently here, that as upon

the first fright of the infection they shunned one another, and

fled from one another’s houses and from the city with an

unaccountable and, as I thought, unnecessary fright, so now, upon

this notion spreading, viz., that the distemper was not so

catching as formerly, and that if it was catched it was not so

mortal, and seeing abundance of people who really fell sick

recover again daily, they took to such a precipitant courage, and

grew so entirely regardless of themselves and of the infection,

that they made no more of the plague than of an ordinary fever,

nor indeed so much. They not only went boldly into company with

those who had tumours and carbuncles upon them that were running,

and consequently contagious, but ate and drank with them, nay,

into their houses to visit them, and even, as I was told, into

their very chambers where they lay sick.

This I could not see rational. My friend Dr Heath allowed, and it

was plain to experience, that the distemper was as catching as

ever, and as many fell sick, but only he alleged that so many of

those that fell sick did not die; but I think that while many did

die, and that at best the distemper itself was very terrible, the

sores and swellings very tormenting, and the danger of death not

left out of the circumstances of sickness, though not so frequent

as before; all those things, together with the exceeding

tediousness of the cure, the loathsomeness of the disease, and

many other articles, were enough to deter any man living from a

dangerous mixture with the sick people, and make them as anxious

almost to avoid the infections as before.

Nay, there was another thing which made the mere catching of the

distemper frightful, and that was the terrible burning of the

caustics which the surgeons laid on the swellings to bring them

to break and to run, without which the danger of death was very

great, even to the last. Also, the insufferable torment of the

swellings, which, though it might not make people raving and

distracted, as they were before, and as I have given several

instances of already, yet they put the patient to inexpressible

torment; and those that fell into it, though they did escape with

life, yet they made bitter complaints of those that had told them

there was no danger, and sadly repented their rashness and folly

in venturing to run into the reach of it.

Nor did this unwary conduct of the people end here, for a great

many that thus cast off their cautions suffered more deeply

still, and though many escaped, yet many died; and at least it

had this public mischief attending it, that it made the decrease

of burials slower than it would otherwise have been. For as this

notion ran like lightning through the city, and people’s heads

were possessed with it, even as soon as the first great decrease

in the bills appeared, we found that the two next bills did not

decrease in proportion; the reason I take to be the people’s

running so rashly into danger, giving up all their former

cautions and care, and all the shyness which they used to

practise, depending that the sickness would not reach them—or

that if it did, they should not die.

The physicians opposed this thoughtless humour of the people with

all their might, and gave out printed directions, spreading them

all over the city and suburbs, advising the people to continue

reserved, and to use still the utmost caution in their ordinary

conduct, notwithstanding the decrease of the distemper,

terrifying them with the danger of bringing a relapse upon the

whole city, and telling them how such a relapse might be more

fatal and dangerous than the whole visitation that had been

already; with many arguments and reasons to explain and prove

that part to them, and which are too long to repeat here.

But it was all to no purpose; the audacious creatures were so

possessed with the first joy and so surprised with the

satisfaction of seeing a vast decrease in the weekly bills, that

they were impenetrable by any new terrors, and would not be

persuaded but that the bitterness of death was past; and it was

to no more purpose to talk to them than to an east wind; but they

opened shops, went about streets, did business, and conversed

with anybody that came in their way to converse with, whether

with business or without, neither inquiring of their health or so

much as being apprehensive of any danger from them, though they

knew them not to be sound.

This imprudent, rash conduct cost a great many their lives who

had with great care and caution shut themselves up and kept

retired, as it were, from all mankind, and had by that means,

under God’s providence, been preserved through all the heat of

that infection.

This rash and foolish conduct, I say, of the people went so far

that the ministers took notice to them of it at last, and laid

before them both the folly and danger of it; and this checked it

a little, so that they grew more cautious. But it had another

effect, which they could not check; for as the first rumour had

spread not over the city only, but into the country, it had the

like effect: and the people were so tired with being so long from

London, and so eager to come back, that they flocked to town

without fear or forecast, and began to show themselves in the

streets as if all the danger was over. It was indeed surprising

to see it, for though there died still from 1000 to 1800 a week,

yet the people flocked to town as if all had been well.

The consequence of this was, that the bills increased again 400

the very first week in November; and if I might believe the

physicians, there was above 3000 fell sick that week, most of

them new-comers, too.

One John Cock, a barber in St Martin’s-le-Grand, was an eminent

example of this; I mean of the hasty return of the people when

the plague was abated. This John Cock had left the town with his

whole family, and locked up his house, and was gone in the

country, as many others did; and finding the plague so decreased

in November that there died but 905 per week of all diseases, he

ventured home again. He had in his family ten persons; that is to

say, himself and wife, five children, two apprentices, and a

maid-servant. He had not returned to his house above a week, and

began to open his shop and carry on his trade, but the distemper

broke out in his family, and within about five days they all

died, except one; that is to say, himself, his wife, all his five

children, and his two apprentices; and only the maid remained

alive.

But the mercy of God was greater to the rest than we had reason

to expect; for the malignity (as I have said) of the distemper

was spent, the contagion was exhausted, and also the winter

weather came on apace, and the air was clear and cold, with sharp

frosts; and this increasing still, most of those that had fallen

sick recovered, and the health of the city began to return. There

were indeed some returns of the distemper even in the month of

December, and the bills increased near a hundred; but it went off

again, and so in a short while things began to return to their

own channel. And wonderful it was to see how populous the city

was again all on a sudden, so that a stranger could not miss the

numbers that were lost. Neither was there any miss of the

inhabitants as to their dwellings—few or no empty houses were to

be seen, or if there were some, there was no want of tenants for

them.

I wish I could say that as the city had a new face, so the

manners of the people had a new appearance. I doubt not but there

were many that retained a sincere sense of their deliverance, and

were that heartily thankful to that Sovereign Hand that had

protected them in so dangerous a time; it would be very

uncharitable to judge otherwise in a city so populous, and where

the people were so devout as they were here in the time of the

visitation itself; but except what of this was to be found in

particular families and faces, it must be acknowledged that the

general practice of the people was just as it was before, and

very little difference was to be seen.

Some, indeed, said things were worse; that the morals of the

people declined from this very time; that the people, hardened by

the danger they had been in, like seamen after a storm is over,

were more wicked and more stupid, more bold and hardened, in

their vices and immoralities than they were before; but I will

not carry it so far neither. It would take up a history of no

small length to give a particular of all the gradations by which

the course of things in this city came to be restored again, and

to run in their own channel as they did before.

Some parts of England were now infected as violently as London

had been; the cities of Norwich, Peterborough, Lincoln,

Colchester, and other places were now visited; and the

magistrates of London began to set rules for our conduct as to

corresponding with those cities. It is true we could not pretend

to forbid their people coming to London, because it was

impossible to know them asunder; so, after many consultations,

the Lord Mayor and Court of Aldermen were obliged to drop it. All

they could do was to warn and caution the people not to entertain

in their houses or converse with any people who they knew came

from such infected places.

But they might as well have talked to the air, for the people of

London thought themselves so plague-free now that they were past

all admonitions; they seemed to depend upon it that the air was

restored, and that the air was like a man that had had the

smallpox, not capable of being infected again. This revived that

notion that the infection was all in the air, that there was no

such thing as contagion from the sick people to the sound; and so

strongly did this whimsy prevail among people that they ran all

together promiscuously, sick and well. Not the Mahometans, who,

prepossessed with the principle of predestination, value nothing

of contagion, let it be in what it will, could be more obstinate

than the people of London; they that were perfectly sound, and

came out of the wholesome air, as we call it, into the city, made

nothing of going into the same houses and chambers, nay, even

into the same beds, with those that had the distemper upon them,

and were not recovered.

Some, indeed, paid for their audacious boldness with the price of

their lives; an infinite number fell sick, and the physicians had

more work than ever, only with this difference, that more of

their patients recovered; that is to say, they generally

recovered, but certainly there were more people infected and fell

sick now, when there did not die above a thousand or twelve

hundred in a week, than there was when there died five or six

thousand a week, so entirely negligent were the people at that

time in the great and dangerous case of health and infection, and

so ill were they able to take or accept of the advice of those

who cautioned them for their good.

The people being thus returned, as it were, in general, it was

very strange to find that in their inquiring after their friends,

some whole families were so entirely swept away that there was no

remembrance of them left, neither was anybody to be found to

possess or show any title to that little they had left; for in

such cases what was to be found was generally embezzled and

purloined, some gone one way, some another.

It was said such abandoned effects came to the king, as the

universal heir; upon which we are told, and I suppose it was in

part true, that the king granted all such, as deodands, to the

Lord Mayor and Court of Aldermen of London, to be applied to the

use of the poor, of whom there were very many. For it is to be

observed, that though the occasions of relief and the objects of

distress were very many more in the time of the violence of the

plague than now after all was over, yet the distress of the poor

was more now a great deal than it was then, because all the

sluices of general charity were now shut. People supposed the

main occasion to be over, and so stopped their hands; whereas

particular objects were still very moving, and the distress of

those that were poor was very great indeed.

Though the health of the city was now very much restored, yet

foreign trade did not begin to stir, neither would foreigners

admit our ships into their ports for a great while. As for the

Dutch, the misunderstandings between our court and them had

broken out into a war the year before, so that our trade that way

was wholly interrupted; but Spain and Portugal, Italy and

Barbary, as also Hamburg and all the ports in the Baltic, these

were all shy of us a great while, and would not restore trade

with us for many months.

The distemper sweeping away such multitudes, as I have observed,

many if not all the out-parishes were obliged to make new

burying-grounds, besides that I have mentioned in Bunhill Fields,

some of which were continued, and remain in use to this day. But

others were left off, and (which I confess I mention with some

reflection) being converted into other uses or built upon

afterwards, the dead bodies were disturbed, abused, dug up again,

some even before the flesh of them was perished from the bones,

and removed like dung or rubbish to other places. Some of those

which came within the reach of my observation are as follow:

(1) A piece of ground beyond Goswell Street, near Mount Mill,

being some of the remains of the old lines or fortifications of

the city, where abundance were buried promiscuously from the

parishes of Aldersgate, Clerkenwell, and even out of the city.

This ground, as I take it, was since made a physic garden, and

after that has been built upon.

(2) A piece of ground just over the Black Ditch, as it was then

called, at the end of Holloway Lane, in Shoreditch parish. It has

been since made a yard for keeping hogs, and for other ordinary

uses, but is quite out of use as a burying-ground.

(3) The upper end of Hand Alley, in Bishopsgate Street, which was

then a green field, and was taken in particularly for Bishopsgate

parish, though many of the carts out of the city brought their

dead thither also, particularly out of the parish of St

All-hallows on the Wall. This place I cannot mention without much

regret. It was, as I remember, about two or three years after the

plague was ceased that Sir Robert Clayton came to be possessed of

the ground. It was reported, how true I know not, that it fell to

the king for want of heirs, all those who had any right to it

being carried off by the pestilence, and that Sir Robert Clayton

obtained a grant of it from King Charles II. But however he came

by it, certain it is the ground was let out to build on, or built

upon, by his order. The first house built upon it was a large

fair house, still standing, which faces the street or way now

called Hand Alley which, though called an alley, is as wide as a

street. The houses in the same row with that house northward are

built on the very same ground where the poor people were buried,

and the bodies, on opening the ground for the foundations, were

dug up, some of them remaining so plain to be seen that the

women’s skulls were distinguished by their long hair, and of

others the flesh was not quite perished; so that the people began

to exclaim loudly against it, and some suggested that it might

endanger a return of the contagion; after which the bones and

bodies, as fast as they came at them, were carried to another

part of the same ground and thrown all together into a deep pit,

dug on purpose, which now is to be known in that it is not built

on, but is a passage to another house at the upper end of Rose

Alley, just against the door of a meeting-house which has been

built there many years since; and the ground is palisadoed off

from the rest of the passage, in a little square; there lie the

bones and remains of near two thousand bodies, carried by the

dead carts to their grave in that one year.

(4) Besides this, there was a piece of ground in Moorfields; by

the going into the street which is now called Old Bethlem, which

was enlarged much, though not wholly taken in on the same

occasion.

[N.B.—The author of this journal lies buried in that very ground,

being at his own desire, his sister having been buried there a

few years before.]

(5) Stepney parish, extending itself from the east part of London

to the north, even to the very edge of Shoreditch Churchyard, had

a piece of ground taken in to bury their dead close to the said

churchyard, and which for that very reason was left open, and is

since, I suppose, taken into the same churchyard. And they had

also two other burying-places in Spittlefields, one where since a

chapel or tabernacle has been built for ease to this great

parish, and another in Petticoat Lane.

There were no less than five other grounds made use of for the

parish of Stepney at that time: one where now stands the parish

church of St Paul, Shadwell, and the other where now stands the

parish church of St John’s at Wapping, both which had not the

names of parishes at that time, but were belonging to Stepney

parish.

I could name many more, but these coming within my particular

knowledge, the circumstance, I thought, made it of use to record

them. From the whole, it may be observed that they were obliged

in this time of distress to take in new burying-grounds in most

of the out-parishes for laying the prodigious numbers of people

which died in so short a space of time; but why care was not

taken to keep those places separate from ordinary uses, that so

the bodies might rest undisturbed, that I cannot answer for, and

must confess I think it was wrong. Who were to blame I know not.

I should have mentioned that the Quakers had at that time also a

burying-ground set apart to their use, and which they still make

use of; and they had also a particular dead-cart to fetch their

dead from their houses; and the famous Solomon Eagle, who, as I

mentioned before, had predicted the plague as a judgement, and

ran naked through the streets, telling the people that it was

come upon them to punish them for their sins, had his own wife

died the very next day of the plague, and was carried, one of the

first in the Quakers’ dead-cart, to their new burying-ground.

I might have thronged this account with many more remarkable

things which occurred in the time of the infection, and

particularly what passed between the Lord Mayor and the Court,

which was then at Oxford, and what directions were from time to

time received from the Government for their conduct on this

critical occasion. But really the Court concerned themselves so

little, and that little they did was of so small import, that I

do not see it of much moment to mention any part of it here:

except that of appointing a monthly fast in the city and the

sending the royal charity to the relief of the poor, both which I

have mentioned before.

Great was the reproach thrown on those physicians who left their

patients during the sickness, and now they came to town again

nobody cared to employ them. They were called deserters, and

frequently bills were set up upon their doors and written, ‘Here

is a doctor to be let’, so that several of those physicians were

fain for a while to sit still and look about them, or at least

remove their dwellings, and set up in new places and among new

acquaintance. The like was the case with the clergy, whom the

people were indeed very abusive to, writing verses and scandalous

reflections upon them, setting upon the church-door, ‘Here is a

pulpit to be let’, or sometimes, ‘to be sold’, which was worse.

It was not the least of our misfortunes that with our infection,

when it ceased, there did not cease the spirit of strife and

contention, slander and reproach, which was really the great

troubler of the nation’s peace before. It was said to be the

remains of the old animosities, which had so lately involved us

all in blood and disorder. But as the late Act of Indemnity had

laid asleep the quarrel itself, so the Government had recommended

family and personal peace upon all occasions to the whole nation.

But it could not be obtained; and particularly after the ceasing

of the plague in London, when any one that had seen the condition

which the people had been in, and how they caressed one another

at that time, promised to have more charity for the future, and

to raise no more reproaches; I say, any one that had seen them

then would have thought they would have come together with

another spirit at last. But, I say, it could not be obtained. The

quarrel remained; the Church and the Presbyterians were

incompatible. As soon as the plague was removed, the Dissenting

ousted ministers who had supplied the pulpits which were deserted

by the incumbents retired; they could expect no other but that

they should immediately fall upon them and harass them with their

penal laws, accept their preaching while they were sick, and

persecute them as soon as they were recovered again; this even we

that were of the Church thought was very hard, and could by no

means approve of it.

But it was the Government, and we could say nothing to hinder it;

we could only say it was not our doing, and we could not answer

for it.

On the other hand, the Dissenters reproaching those ministers of

the Church with going away and deserting their charge, abandoning

the people in their danger, and when they had most need of

comfort, and the like: this we could by no means approve, for all

men have not the same faith and the same courage, and the

Scripture commands us to judge the most favourably and according

to charity.

A plague is a formidable enemy, and is armed with terrors that

every man is not sufficiently fortified to resist or prepared to

stand the shock against. It is very certain that a great many of

the clergy who were in circumstances to do it withdrew and fled

for the safety of their lives; but ’tis true also that a great

many of them stayed, and many of them fell in the calamity and in

the discharge of their duty.

It is true some of the Dissenting turned-out ministers stayed,

and their courage is to be commended and highly valued—but these

were not abundance; it cannot be said that they all stayed, and

that none retired into the country, any more than it can be said

of the Church clergy that they all went away. Neither did all

those that went away go without substituting curates and others

in their places, to do the offices needful and to visit the sick,

as far as it was practicable; so that, upon the whole, an

allowance of charity might have been made on both sides, and we

should have considered that such a time as this of 1665 is not to

be paralleled in history, and that it is not the stoutest courage

that will always support men in such cases. I had not said this,

but had rather chosen to record the courage and religious zeal of

those of both sides, who did hazard themselves for the service of

the poor people in their distress, without remembering that any

failed in their duty on either side. But the want of temper among

us has made the contrary to this necessary: some that stayed not

only boasting too much of themselves, but reviling those that

fled, branding them with cowardice, deserting their flocks, and

acting the part of the hireling, and the like. I recommend it to

the charity of all good people to look back and reflect duly upon

the terrors of the time, and whoever does so will see that it is

not an ordinary strength that could support it. It was not like

appearing in the head of an army or charging a body of horse in

the field, but it was charging Death itself on his pale horse; to

stay was indeed to die, and it could be esteemed nothing less,

especially as things appeared at the latter end of August and the

beginning of September, and as there was reason to expect them at

that time; for no man expected, and I dare say believed, that the

distemper would take so sudden a turn as it did, and fall

immediately two thousand in a week, when there was such a

prodigious number of people sick at that time as it was known

there was; and then it was that many shifted away that had stayed

most of the time before.

Besides, if God gave strength to some more than to others, was it

to boast of their ability to abide the stroke, and upbraid those

that had not the same gift and support, or ought not they rather

to have been humble and thankful if they were rendered more

useful than their brethren?

I think it ought to be recorded to the honour of such men, as

well clergy as physicians, surgeons, apothecaries, magistrates,

and officers of every kind, as also all useful people who

ventured their lives in discharge of their duty, as most

certainly all such as stayed did to the last degree; and several

of all these kinds did not only venture but lose their lives on

that sad occasion.

I was once making a list of all such, I mean of all those

professions and employments who thus died, as I call it, in the

way of their duty; but it was impossible for a private man to

come at a certainty in the particulars. I only remember that

there died sixteen clergymen, two aldermen, five physicians,

thirteen surgeons, within the city and liberties before the

beginning of September. But this being, as I said before, the

great crisis and extremity of the infection, it can be no

complete list. As to inferior people, I think there died

six-and-forty constables and head-boroughs in the two parishes of

Stepney and Whitechappel; but I could not carry my list on, for

when the violent rage of the distemper in September came upon us,

it drove us out of all measures. Men did then no more die by tale

and by number. They might put out a weekly bill, and call them

seven or eight thousand, or what they pleased; ’tis certain they

died by heaps, and were buried by heaps, that is to say, without

account. And if I might believe some people, who were more abroad

and more conversant with those things than I though I was public

enough for one that had no more business to do than I had,—I say,

if I may believe them, there was not many less buried those first

three weeks in September than 20,000 per week. However, the

others aver the truth of it; yet I rather choose to keep to the

public account; seven and eight thousand per week is enough to

make good all that I have said of the terror of those times;—and

it is much to the satisfaction of me that write, as well as those

that read, to be able to say that everything is set down with

moderation, and rather within compass than beyond it.

Upon all these accounts, I say, I could wish, when we were

recovered, our conduct had been more distinguished for charity

and kindness in remembrance of the past calamity, and not so much

a valuing ourselves upon our boldness in staying, as if all men

were cowards that fly from the hand of God, or that those who

stay do not sometimes owe their courage to their ignorance, and

despising the hand of their Maker—which is a criminal kind of

desperation, and not a true courage.

I cannot but leave it upon record that the civil officers, such

as constables, head-boroughs, Lord Mayor’s and sheriffs’-men, as

also parish officers, whose business it was to take charge of the

poor, did their duties in general with as much courage as any,

and perhaps with more, because their work was attended with more

hazards, and lay more among the poor, who were more subject to be

infected, and in the most pitiful plight when they were taken

with the infection. But then it must be added, too, that a great

number of them died; indeed it was scarce possible it should be

otherwise.

I have not said one word here about the physic or preparations

that we ordinarily made use of on this terrible occasion—I mean

we that went frequently abroad and up down street, as I did; much

of this was talked of in the books and bills of our quack

doctors, of whom I have said enough already. It may, however, be

added, that the College of Physicians were daily publishing

several preparations, which they had considered of in the process

of their practice, and which, being to be had in print, I avoid

repeating them for that reason.

One thing I could not help observing: what befell one of the

quacks, who published that he had a most excellent preservative

against the plague, which whoever kept about them should never be

infected or liable to infection. This man, who, we may reasonably

suppose, did not go abroad without some of this excellent

preservative in his pocket, yet was taken by the distemper, and

carried off in two or three days.

I am not of the number of the physic-haters or physic-despisers;

on the contrary, I have often mentioned the regard I had to the

dictates of my particular friend Dr Heath; but yet I must

acknowledge I made use of little or nothing—except, as I have

observed, to keep a preparation of strong scent to have ready, in

case I met with anything of offensive smells or went too near any

burying-place or dead body.

Neither did I do what I know some did: keep the spirits always

high and hot with cordials and wine and such things; and which,

as I observed, one learned physician used himself so much to as

that he could not leave them off when the infection was quite

gone, and so became a sot for all his life after.

I remember my friend the doctor used to say that there was a

certain set of drugs and preparations which were all certainly

good and useful in the case of an infection; out of which, or

with which, physicians might make an infinite variety of

medicines, as the ringers of bells make several hundred different

rounds of music by the changing and order or sound but in six

bells, and that all these preparations shall be really very good:

‘Therefore,’ said he, ‘I do not wonder that so vast a throng of

medicines is offered in the present calamity, and almost every

physician prescribes or prepares a different thing, as his

judgement or experience guides him; but’, says my friend, ‘let

all the prescriptions of all the physicians in London be

examined, and it will be found that they are all compounded of

the same things, with such variations only as the particular

fancy of the doctor leads him to; so that’, says he, ‘every man,

judging a little of his own constitution and manner of his

living, and circumstances of his being infected, may direct his

own medicines out of the ordinary drugs and preparations. Only

that’, says he, ‘some recommend one thing as most sovereign, and

some another. Some’, says he, ‘think that pill. ruff., which is

called itself the anti-pestilential pill is the best preparation

that can be made; others think that Venice treacle is sufficient

of itself to resist the contagion; and I’, says he, ‘think as

both these think, viz., that the last is good to take beforehand

to prevent it, and the first, if touched, to expel it.’ According

to this opinion, I several times took Venice treacle, and a sound

sweat upon it, and thought myself as well fortified against the

infection as any one could be fortified by the power of physic.

As for quackery and mountebanks, of which the town was so full, I

listened to none of them, and have observed often since, with

some wonder, that for two years after the plague I scarcely saw

or heard of one of them about town. Some fancied they were all

swept away in the infection to a man, and were for calling it a

particular mark of God’s vengeance upon them for leading the poor

people into the pit of destruction, merely for the lucre of a

little money they got by them; but I cannot go that length

neither. That abundance of them died is certain—many of them came

within the reach of my own knowledge—but that all of them were

swept off I much question. I believe rather they fled into the

country and tried their practices upon the people there, who were

in apprehension of the infection before it came among them.

This, however, is certain, not a man of them appeared for a great

while in or about London. There were, indeed, several doctors who

published bills recommending their several physical preparations

for cleansing the body, as they call it, after the plague, and

needful, as they said, for such people to take who had been

visited and had been cured; whereas I must own I believe that it

was the opinion of the most eminent physicians at that time that

the plague was itself a sufficient purge, and that those who

escaped the infection needed no physic to cleanse their bodies of

any other things; the running sores, the tumours, &c., which were

broke and kept open by the directions of the physicians, having

sufficiently cleansed them; and that all other distempers, and

causes of distempers, were effectually carried off that way; and

as the physicians gave this as their opinions wherever they came,

the quacks got little business.

There were, indeed, several little hurries which happened after

the decrease of the plague, and which, whether they were

contrived to fright and disorder the people, as some imagined, I

cannot say, but sometimes we were told the plague would return by

such a time; and the famous Solomon Eagle, the naked Quaker I

have mentioned, prophesied evil tidings every day; and several

others telling us that London had not been sufficiently scourged,

and that sorer and severer strokes were yet behind. Had they

stopped there, or had they descended to particulars, and told us

that the city should the next year be destroyed by fire, then,

indeed, when we had seen it come to pass, we should not have been

to blame to have paid more than a common respect to their

prophetic spirits; at least we should have wondered at them, and

have been more serious in our inquiries after the meaning of it,

and whence they had the foreknowledge. But as they generally told

us of a relapse into the plague, we have had no concern since

that about them; yet by those frequent clamours, we were all kept

with some kind of apprehensions constantly upon us; and if any

died suddenly, or if the spotted fevers at any time increased, we

were presently alarmed; much more if the number of the plague

increased, for to the end of the year there were always between

200 and 300 of the plague. On any of these occasions, I say, we

were alarmed anew.

Those who remember the city of London before the fire must

remember that there was then no such place as we now call Newgate

Market, but that in the middle of the street which is now called

Blowbladder Street, and which had its name from the butchers, who

used to kill and dress their sheep there (and who, it seems, had

a custom to blow up their meat with pipes to make it look thicker

and fatter than it was, and were punished there for it by the

Lord Mayor); I say, from the end of the street towards Newgate

there stood two long rows of shambles for the selling meat.

It was in those shambles that two persons falling down dead, as

they were buying meat, gave rise to a rumour that the meat was

all infected; which, though it might affright the people, and

spoiled the market for two or three days, yet it appeared plainly

afterwards that there was nothing of truth in the suggestion. But

nobody can account for the possession of fear when it takes hold

of the mind.

However, it Pleased God, by the continuing of the winter weather,

so to restore the health of the city that by February following

we reckoned the distemper quite ceased, and then we were not so

easily frighted again.

There was still a question among the learned, and at first

perplexed the people a little: and that was in what manner to

purge the house and goods where the plague had been, and how to

render them habitable again, which had been left empty during the

time of the plague. Abundance of perfumes and preparations were

prescribed by physicians, some of one kind and some of another,

in which the people who listened to them put themselves to a

great, and indeed, in my opinion, to an unnecessary expense; and

the poorer people, who only set open their windows night and day,

burned brimstone, pitch, and gunpowder, and such things in their

rooms, did as well as the best; nay, the eager people who, as I

said above, came home in haste and at all hazards, found little

or no inconvenience in their houses, nor in the goods, and did

little or nothing to them.

However, in general, prudent, cautious people did enter into some

measures for airing and sweetening their houses, and burned

perfumes, incense, benjamin, rozin, and sulphur in their rooms

close shut up, and then let the air carry it all out with a blast

of gunpowder; others caused large fires to be made all day and

all night for several days and nights; by the same token that two

or three were pleased to set their houses on fire, and so

effectually sweetened them by burning them down to the ground; as

particularly one at Ratcliff, one in Holbourn, and one at

Westminster; besides two or three that were set on fire, but the

fire was happily got out again before it went far enough to burn

down the houses; and one citizen’s servant, I think it was in

Thames Street, carried so much gunpowder into his master’s house,

for clearing it of the infection, and managed it so foolishly,

that he blew up part of the roof of the house. But the time was

not fully come that the city was to be purged by fire, nor was it

far off; for within nine months more I saw it all lying in ashes;

when, as some of our quacking philosophers pretend, the seeds of

the plague were entirely destroyed, and not before; a notion too

ridiculous to speak of here: since, had the seeds of the plague

remained in the houses, not to be destroyed but by fire, how has

it been that they have not since broken out, seeing all those

buildings in the suburbs and liberties, all in the great parishes

of Stepney, Whitechappel, Aldgate, Bishopsgate, Shoreditch,

Cripplegate, and St Giles, where the fire never came, and where

the plague raged with the greatest violence, remain still in the

same condition they were in before?

But to leave these things just as I found them, it was certain

that those people who were more than ordinarily cautious of their

health, did take particular directions for what they called

seasoning of their houses, and abundance of costly things were

consumed on that account which I cannot but say not only seasoned

those houses, as they desired, but filled the air with very

grateful and wholesome smells which others had the share of the

benefit of as well as those who were at the expenses of them.

And yet after all, though the poor came to town very

precipitantly, as I have said, yet I must say the rich made no

such haste. The men of business, indeed, came up, but many of

them did not bring their families to town till the spring came

on, and that they saw reason to depend upon it that the plague

would not return.

The Court, indeed, came up soon after Christmas, but the nobility

and gentry, except such as depended upon and had employment under

the administration, did not come so soon.

I should have taken notice here that, notwithstanding the

violence of the plague in London and in other places, yet it was

very observable that it was never on board the fleet; and yet for

some time there was a strange press in the river, and even in the

streets, for seamen to man the fleet. But it was in the beginning

of the year, when the plague was scarce begun, and not at all

come down to that part of the city where they usually press for

seamen; and though a war with the Dutch was not at all grateful

to the people at that time, and the seamen went with a kind of

reluctancy into the service, and many complained of being dragged

into it by force, yet it proved in the event a happy violence to

several of them, who had probably perished in the general

calamity, and who, after the summer service was over, though they

had cause to lament the desolation of their families—who, when

they came back, were many of them in their graves—yet they had

room to be thankful that they were carried out of the reach of

it, though so much against their wills. We indeed had a hot war

with the Dutch that year, and one very great engagement at sea in

which the Dutch were worsted, but we lost a great many men and

some ships. But, as I observed, the plague was not in the fleet,

and when they came to lay up the ships in the river the violent

part of it began to abate.

I would be glad if I could close the account of this melancholy

year with some particular examples historically; I mean of the

thankfulness to God, our preserver, for our being delivered from

this dreadful calamity. Certainly the circumstance of the

deliverance, as well as the terrible enemy we were delivered

from, called upon the whole nation for it. The circumstances of

the deliverance were indeed very remarkable, as I have in part

mentioned already, and particularly the dreadful condition which

we were all in when we were to the surprise of the whole town

made joyful with the hope of a stop of the infection.

Nothing but the immediate finger of God, nothing but omnipotent

power, could have done it. The contagion despised all medicine;

death raged in every corner; and had it gone on as it did then, a

few weeks more would have cleared the town of all, and everything

that had a soul. Men everywhere began to despair; every heart

failed them for fear; people were made desperate through the

anguish of their souls, and the terrors of death sat in the very

faces and countenances of the people.

In that very moment when we might very well say, ‘Vain was the

help of man’,—I say, in that very moment it pleased God, with a

most agreeable surprise, to cause the fury of it to abate, even

of itself; and the malignity declining, as I have said, though

infinite numbers were sick, yet fewer died, and the very first

weeks’ bill decreased 1843; a vast number indeed!

It is impossible to express the change that appeared in the very

countenances of the people that Thursday morning when the weekly

bill came out. It might have been perceived in their countenances

that a secret surprise and smile of joy sat on everybody’s face.

They shook one another by the hands in the streets, who would

hardly go on the same side of the way with one another before.

Where the streets were not too broad they would open their

windows and call from one house to another, and ask how they did,

and if they had heard the good news that the plague was abated.

Some would return, when they said good news, and ask, ‘What good

news?’ and when they answered that the plague was abated and the

bills decreased almost two thousand, they would cry out, ‘God be

praised!’ and would weep aloud for joy, telling them they had

heard nothing of it; and such was the joy of the people that it

was, as it were, life to them from the grave. I could almost set

down as many extravagant things done in the excess of their joy

as of their grief; but that would be to lessen the value of it.

I must confess myself to have been very much dejected just before

this happened; for the prodigious number that were taken sick the

week or two before, besides those that died, was such, and the

lamentations were so great everywhere, that a man must have

seemed to have acted even against his reason if he had so much as

expected to escape; and as there was hardly a house but mine in

all my neighbourhood but was infected, so had it gone on it would

not have been long that there would have been any more neighbours

to be infected. Indeed it is hardly credible what dreadful havoc

the last three weeks had made, for if I might believe the person

whose calculations I always found very well grounded, there were

not less than 30,000 people dead and near 100,000 fallen sick in

the three weeks I speak of; for the number that sickened was

surprising, indeed it was astonishing, and those whose courage

upheld them all the time before, sank under it now.

In the middle of their distress, when the condition of the city

of London was so truly calamitous, just then it pleased God—as it

were by His immediate hand to disarm this enemy; the poison was

taken out of the sting. It was wonderful; even the physicians

themselves were surprised at it. Wherever they visited they found

their patients better; either they had sweated kindly, or the

tumours were broke, or the carbuncles went down and the

inflammations round them changed colour, or the fever was gone,

or the violent headache was assuaged, or some good symptom was in

the case; so that in a few days everybody was recovering, whole

families that were infected and down, that had ministers praying

with them, and expected death every hour, were revived and

healed, and none died at all out of them.

Nor was this by any new medicine found out, or new method of cure

discovered, or by any experience in the operation which the

physicians or surgeons attained to; but it was evidently from the

secret invisible hand of Him that had at first sent this disease

as a judgement upon us; and let the atheistic part of mankind

call my saying what they please, it is no enthusiasm; it was

acknowledged at that time by all mankind. The disease was

enervated and its malignity spent; and let it proceed from

whencesoever it will, let the philosophers search for reasons in

nature to account for it by, and labour as much as they will to

lessen the debt they owe to their Maker, those physicians who had

the least share of religion in them were obliged to acknowledge

that it was all supernatural, that it was extraordinary, and that

no account could be given of it.

If I should say that this is a visible summons to us all to

thankfulness, especially we that were under the terror of its

increase, perhaps it may be thought by some, after the sense of

the thing was over, an officious canting of religious things,

preaching a sermon instead of writing a history, making myself a

teacher instead of giving my observations of things; and this

restrains me very much from going on here as I might otherwise

do. But if ten lepers were healed, and but one returned to give

thanks, I desire to be as that one, and to be thankful for

myself.

Nor will I deny but there were abundance of people who, to all

appearance, were very thankful at that time; for their mouths

were stopped, even the mouths of those whose hearts were not

extraordinary long affected with it. But the impression was so

strong at that time that it could not be resisted; no, not by the

worst of the people.

It was a common thing to meet people in the street that were

strangers, and that we knew nothing at all of, expressing their

surprise. Going one day through Aldgate, and a pretty many people

being passing and repassing, there comes a man out of the end of

the Minories, and looking a little up the street and down, he

throws his hands abroad, ‘Lord, what an alteration is here! Why,

last week I came along here, and hardly anybody was to be seen.’

Another man—I heard him—adds to his words, ‘’Tis all wonderful;

’tis all a dream.’ ‘Blessed be God,’ says a third man, ‘and

let us give thanks to Him, for ’tis all His own doing, human help

and human skill was at an end.’ These were all strangers to one

another. But such salutations as these were frequent in the

street every day; and in spite of a loose behaviour, the very

common people went along the streets giving God thanks for their

deliverance.

It was now, as I said before, the people had cast off all

apprehensions, and that too fast; indeed we were no more afraid

now to pass by a man with a white cap upon his head, or with a

cloth wrapt round his neck, or with his leg limping, occasioned

by the sores in his groin, all which were frightful to the last

degree, but the week before. But now the street was full of them,

and these poor recovering creatures, give them their due,

appeared very sensible of their unexpected deliverance; and I

should wrong them very much if I should not acknowledge that I

believe many of them were really thankful. But I must own that,

for the generality of the people, it might too justly be said of

them as was said of the children of Israel after their being

delivered from the host of Pharaoh, when they passed the Red Sea,

and looked back and saw the Egyptians overwhelmed in the water:

viz., that they sang His praise, but they soon forgot His works.

I can go no farther here. I should be counted censorious, and

perhaps unjust, if I should enter into the unpleasing work of

reflecting, whatever cause there was for it, upon the

unthankfulness and return of all manner of wickedness among us,

which I was so much an eye-witness of myself. I shall conclude

the account of this calamitous year therefore with a coarse but

sincere stanza of my own, which I placed at the end of my

ordinary memorandums the same year they were written:

A dreadful plague in London was In the year sixty-five, Which

swept an hundred thousand souls Away; yet I alive!