Chapter - 4
This was an extraordinary case, and I am therefore the more particular in it, because I came so much
to the knowledge of it; but there were innumerable such-like cases, and it was seldom that the weekly bill came in but there
were two or three put in, "frighted"; that is, that may well be called frighted to death. But besides those who were so frighted
as to die upon the spot, there were great numbers frighted to other extremes, some frighted out of their senses, some out
of their memory, and some out of their understanding. But I return to the shutting up of houses.
As several people, I
say, got out of their houses by stratagem after they were shut UP, so others got out by bribing the watchmen, and giving them
money to let them go privately out in the night. I must confess I thought it at that time the most innocent corruption or
bribery that any man could be guilty of, and therefore could not but pity the poor men, and think it was hard when three of
those watchmen were publicly whipped through the streets for suffering people to go out of houses shut up.
that severity, money prevailed with the poor men, and many families found means to make sallies out, and escape that way after
they had been shut up; but these were generally such as had some places to retire to; and though there was no easy passing
the roads any whither after the 1st of August, yet there were many ways of retreat, and particularly, as I hinted, some got
tents and set them up in the fields, carrying beds or straw to lie on, and provisions to eat, and so lived in them as hermits
in a cell, for nobody would venture to come near them; and several stories were told of such, some comical, some tragical,
some who lived like wandering pilgrims in the deserts, and escaped by making themselves exiles in such a manner as is scarce
to be credited, and who yet enjoyed more liberty than was to be expected in such cases.
I have by me a story of two brothers
and their kinsman, who being single men, but that had stayed in the city too long to get away, and indeed not knowing where
to go to have any retreat, nor having wherewith to travel far, took a course for their own preservation, which though in itself
at first desperate, yet was so natural that it may be wondered that no more did so at that time. They were but of mean condition,
and yet not so very poor as that they could not furnish themselves with some little conveniences such as might serve to keep
life and soul together; and finding the distemper increasing in a terrible manner, they resolved to shift as well as they
could, and to be gone.
One of them had been a soldier in the late wars, and before that in the Low Countries, and having
been bred to no particular employment but his arms, and besides being wounded, and not able to work very hard, had for some
time been employed at a baker's of sea-biscuit in Wapping.
The brother of this man was a seaman too, but somehow or other
had been hurt of one leg, that he could not go to sea, but had worked for his living at a sailmaker's in Wapping, or thereabouts;
and being a good husband, had laid up some money, and was the richest of the three.
The third man was a joiner or carpenter
by trade, a handy fellow, and he had no wealth but his box or basket of tools, with the help of which he could at any time
get his living, such a time as this excepted, wherever he went - and he lived near Shadwell.
They all lived in Stepney
parish, which, as I have said, being the last that was infected, or at least violently, they stayed there till they evidently
saw the plague was abating at the west part of the town, and coming towards the east, where they lived.
The story of those
three men, if the reader will be content to have me give it in their own persons, without taking upon me to either vouch the
particulars or answer for any mistakes, I shall give as distinctly as I can, believing the history will be a very good pattern
for any poor man to follow, in case the like public desolation should happen here; and if there may be no such occasion, which
God of His infinite mercy grant us, still the story may have its- uses so many ways as that it will, I hope, never be said
that the relating has been unprofitable.
I say all this previous to the history, having yet, for the present, much more
to say before I quit my own part.
I went all the first part of the time freely about the streets, though not so freely
as to run myself into apparent danger, except when they dug the great pit in the churchyard of our parish of Aldgate. A terrible
pit it was, and I could not resist my curiosity to go and see it. As near as I may judge, it was about forty feet in length,
and about fifteen or sixteen feet broad, and at the time I first looked at it, about nine feet deep; but it was said they
dug it near twenty feet deep afterwards in one part of it, till they could go no deeper for the water; for they had, it seems,
dug several large pits before this. For though the plague was long a-coming to our parish, yet, when it did come, there was
no parish in or about London where it raged with such violence as in the two parishes of Aldgate and Whitechappel.
they had dug several pits in another ground, when the distemper began to spread in our parish, and especially when the dead-carts
began to go about, which was not, in our parish, till the beginning of August. Into these pits they had put perhaps fifty
or sixty bodies each; then they made larger holes wherein they buried all that the cart brought in a week, which, by the middle
to the end of August, came to from 200 to 400 a week; and they could not well dig them larger, because of the order of the
magistrates confining them to leave no bodies within six feet of the surface; and the water coming on at about seventeen or
eighteen feet, they could not well, I say, put more in one pit. But now, at the beginning of September, the plague raging
in a dreadful manner, and the number of burials in our parish increasing to more than was ever buried in any parish about
London of no larger extent, they ordered this dreadful gulf to be dug - for such it was, rather than a pit.
They had supposed
this pit would have supplied them for a month or more when they dug it, and some blamed the churchwardens for suffering such
a frightful thing, telling them they were making preparations to bury the whole parish, and the like; but time made it appear
the churchwardens knew the condition of the parish better than they did: for, the pit being finished the 4th of September,
I think, they began to bury in it the 6th, and by the 20th, which was just two weeks, they had thrown into it 1114 bodies
when they were obliged to fill it up, the bodies being then come to lie within six feet of the surface. I doubt not but there
may be some ancient persons alive in the parish who can justify the fact of this, and are able to show even in what place
of the churchyard the pit lay better than I can. The mark of it also was many years to be seen in the churchyard on the surface,
lying in length parallel with the passage which goes by the west wall of the churchyard out of Houndsditch, and turns east
again into Whitechappel, coming out near the Three Nuns' Inn.
It was about the 10th of September that my curiosity led,
or rather drove, me to go and see this pit again, when there had been near 400 people buried in it; and I was not content
to see it in the day-time, as I had done before, for then there would have been nothing to have been seen but the loose earth;
for all the bodies that were thrown in were immediately covered with earth by those they called the buriers, which at other
times were called bearers; but I resolved to go in the night and see some of them thrown in.
There was a strict order
to prevent people coming to those pits, and that was only to prevent infection. But after some time that order was more necessary,
for people that were infected and near their end, and delirious also, would run to those pits, wrapt in blankets or rugs,
and throw themselves in, and, as they said, bury themselves. I cannot say that the officers suffered any willingly to lie
there; but I have heard that in a great pit in Finsbury, in the parish of Cripplegate, it lying open then to the fields, for
it was not then walled about, [many] came and threw themselves in, and expired there, before they threw any earth upon them;
and that when they came to bury others and found them there, they were quite dead, though not cold.
This may serve a little
to describe the dreadful condition of that day, though it is impossible to say anything that is able to give a true idea of
it to those who did not see it, other than this, that it was indeed very, very, very dreadful, and such as no tongue can express.
I got admittance into the churchyard by being acquainted with the sexton who attended; who, though he did not refuse me
at all, yet earnestly persuaded me not to go, telling me very seriously (for he was a good, religious, and sensible man) that
it was indeed their business and duty to venture, and to run all hazards, and that in it they might hope to be preserved;
but that I had no apparent call to it but my own curiosity, which, he said, he believed I would not pretend was sufficient
to justify my running that hazard. I told him I had been pressed in my mind to go, and that perhaps it might be an instructing
sight, that might not be without its uses. "Nay," says the good man, "if you will venture upon that score, name of God go
in; for, depend upon it, "twill be a sermon to you, it may be, the best that ever you heard in your life. 'Tis a speaking
sight," says he, "and has a voice with it, and a loud one, to call us all to repentance"; and with that he opened the door
and said, "Go, if you will."
His discourse had shocked my resolution a little, and I stood wavering for a good while,
but just at that interval I saw two links come over from the end of the Minories, and heard the bellman, and then appeared
a dead-cart, as they called it, coming over the streets; so I could no longer resist my desire of seeing it, and went in.
There was nobody, as I could perceive at first, in the churchyard, or going into it, but the buriers and the fellow that drove
the cart, or rather led the horse and cart; but when they came up to the pit they saw a man go to and again, muffled up in
a brown Cloak, and making motions with his hands under his cloak, as if he was in great agony, and the buriers immediately
gathered about him, supposing he was one of those poor delirious or desperate creatures that used to pretend, as I have said,
to bury themselves. He said nothing as he walked about, but two or three times groaned very deeply and loud, and sighed as
he would break his heart.
When the buriers came up to him they soon found he was neither a person infected and desperate,
as I have observed above, or a person distempered -in mind, but one oppressed with a dreadful weight of grief indeed, having
his wife and several of his children all in the cart that was just come in with him, and he followed in an agony and excess
of sorrow. He mourned heartily, as it was easy to see, but with a kind of masculine grief that could not give itself vent
by tears; and calmly defying the buriers to let him alone, said he would only see the bodies thrown in and go away, so they
left importuning him. But no sooner was the cart turned round and the bodies shot into the pit promiscuously, which was a
surprise to him, for he at least expected they would have been decently laid in, though indeed he was afterwards convinced
that was impracticable; I say, no sooner did he see the sight but he cried out aloud, unable to contain himself. I could not
hear what he said, but he went backward two or three steps and fell down in a swoon. The buriers ran to him and took him up,
and in a little while he came to himself, and they led him away to the Pie Tavern over against the end of Houndsditch, where,
it seems, the man was known, and where they took care of him. He looked into the pit again as he went away, but the buriers
had covered the bodies so immediately with throwing in earth, that though there was light enough, for there were lanterns,
and candles in them, placed all night round the sides of the pit, upon heaps of earth, seven or eight, or perhaps more, yet
nothing could be seen.
This was a mournful scene indeed, and affected me almost as much as the rest; but the other was
awful and full of terror. The cart had in it sixteen or seventeen bodies; some were wrapt up in linen sheets, some in rags,
some little other than naked, or so loose that what covering they had fell from them in the shooting out of the cart, and
they fell quite naked among the rest; but the matter was not much to them, or the indecency much to any one else, seeing they
were all dead, and were to be huddled together into the common grave of mankind, as we may call it, for here was no difference
made, but poor and rich went together; there was no other way of burials, neither was it possible there should, for coffins
were not to be had for the prodigious numbers that fell in such a calamity as this.
It was reported by way of scandal
upon the buriers, that if any corpse was delivered to them decently wound up, as we called it then, in a winding-sheet tied
over the head and feet, which some did, and which was generally of good linen; I say, it was reported that the buriers were
so wicked as to strip them in the cart and carry them quite naked to the ground. But as I cannot easily credit anything so
vile among Christians, and at a time so filled with terrors as that was, I can only relate it and leave it undetermined.
stories also went about of the cruel behaviours and practices of nurses who tended the sick, and of their hastening on the
fate of those they tended in their sickness. But I shall say more of this in its place.
I was indeed shocked with this
sight; it almost overwhelmed me, and I went away with my heart most afflicted, and full of the afflicting thoughts, such as
I cannot describe. just at my going out of the church, and turning up the street towards my own house, I saw another cart
with links, and a bellman going before, coming out of Harrow Alley in the Butcher Row, on the other side of the way, and being,
as I perceived, very full of dead bodies, it went directly over the street also toward the church. I stood a while, but I
had no stomach to go back again to see the same dismal scene over again, so I went directly home, where I could not but consider
with thankfulness the risk I had run, believing I had gotten no injury, as indeed I had not.
Here the poor unhappy gentleman's
grief came into my head again, and indeed I could not but shed tears in the reflection upon it, perhaps more than he did himself;
but his case lay so heavy upon my mind that I could not prevail with myself, but that I must go out again into the street,
and go to the Pie Tavern, resolving to inquire what became of him.
It was by this time one o'clock in the morning, and
yet the poor gentleman was there. The truth was, the people of the house, knowing him, had entertained him, and kept him there
all the night, notwithstanding the danger of being infected by him, though it appeared the man was perfectly sound himself.
It is with regret that I take notice of this tavern. The people were civil, mannerly, and an obliging sort of folks enough,
and had till this time kept their house open and their trade going on, though not so very publicly as formerly: but there
was a dreadful set of fellows that used their house, and who, in the middle of all this horror, met there every night, behaved
with all the revelling and roaring extravagances as is usual for such people to do at other times, and, indeed, to such an
offensive degree that the very master and mistress of the house grew first ashamed and then terrified at them.
generally in a room next the street, and as they always kept late hours, so when the dead-cart came across the street-end
to go into Houndsditch, which was in view of the tavern windows, they would frequently open the windows as soon as they heard
the bell and look out at them; and as they might often hear sad lamentations of people in the streets or at their windows
as the carts went along, they would make their impudent mocks and jeers at them, especially if they heard the poor people
call upon God to have mercy upon them, as many would do at those times in their ordinary passing along the streets.
gentlemen, being something disturbed with the clutter of bringing the poor gentleman into the house, as above, were first
angry and very high with the master of the house for suffering such a fellow, as they called him, to be brought out of the
grave into their house; but being answered that the man was a neighbour, and that he was sound, but overwhelmed with the calamity
of his family, and the like, they turned their anger into ridiculing the man and his sorrow for his wife and children, taunted
him with want of courage to leap into the great pit and go to heaven, as they jeeringly expressed it, along with them, adding
some very profane and even blasphemous expressions.
They were at this vile work when I came back to the house, and, as
far as I could see, though the man sat still, mute and disconsolate, and their affronts could not divert his sorrow, yet he
was both grieved and offended at their discourse. Upon this I gently reproved them, being well enough acquainted with their
characters, and not unknown in person to two of them.
They immediately fell upon me with ill language and oaths, asked
me what I did out of my grave at such a time when so many honester men were carried into the churchyard, and why I was not
at home saying my prayers against the dead-cart came for me, and the like.
I was indeed astonished at the impudence of
the men, though not at all discomposed at their treatment of me. However, I kept my temper. I told them that though I defied
them or any man in the world to tax me with any dishonesty, yet I acknowledged that in this terrible judgement of God many
better than I were swept away and carried to their grave. But to answer their question directly, the case was, that I was
mercifully preserved by that great God whose name they had blasphemed and taken in vain by cursing and swearing in a dreadful
manner, and that I believed I was preserved in particular, among other ends of His goodness, that I might reprove them for
their audacious boldness in behaving in such a manner and in such an awful time as this was, especially for their jeering
and mocking at an honest gentleman and a neighbour (for some of them knew him), who, they saw, was overwhelmed with sorrow
for the breaches which it had pleased God to make upon his family.
I cannot call exactly to mind the hellish, abominable
raillery which was the return they made to that talk of mine: being provoked, it seems, that I was not at all afraid to be
free with them; nor, if I could remember, would I fill my account with any of the words, the horrid oaths, curses, and vile
expressions, such as, at that time of the day, even the worst and ordinariest people in the street would not use; for, except
such hardened creatures as these, the most wicked wretches that could be found had at that time some terror upon their minds
of the hand of that Power which could thus in a moment destroy them.
But that which was the worst in all their devilish
language was, that they were not afraid to blaspheme God and talk atheistically, making a jest of my calling the plague the
hand of God; mocking, and even laughing, at the word judgement, as if the providence of God had no concern in the inflicting
such a desolating stroke; and that the people calling upon God as they saw the carts carrying away the dead bodies was all
enthusiastic, absurd, and impertinent.
I made them some reply, such as I thought proper, but which I found was so far
from putting a check to their horrid way of speaking that it made them rail the more, so that I confess it filled me with
horror and a kind of rage, and I came away, as I told them, lest the hand of that judgement which had visited the whole city
should glorify His vengeance upon them, and all that were near them.
They received all reproof with the utmost contempt,
and made the greatest mockery that was possible for them to do at me, giving me all the opprobrious, insolent scoffs that
they could think of for preaching to them, as they called it, which indeed grieved me, rather than angered me; and I went
away, blessing God, however, in my mind that I had not spared them, though they had insulted me so much.
this wretched course three or four days after this, continually mocking and jeering at all that showed themselves religious
or serious, or that were any way touched with the sense of the terrible judgement of God upon us; and I was informed they
flouted in the same manner at the good people who, notwithstanding the contagion, met at the church, fasted, and prayed to
God to remove His hand from them.
I say, they continued this dreadful course three or four days - I think it was no more
- when one of them, particularly he who asked the poor gentleman what he did out of his grave, was struck from Heaven with
the plague, and died in a most deplorable manner; and, in a word, they were every one of them carried into the great pit which
I have mentioned above, before it was quite filled up, which was not above a fortnight or thereabout.
These men were guilty
of many extravagances, such as one would think human nature should have trembled at the thoughts of at such a time of general
terror as was then upon us, and particularly scoffing and mocking at everything which they happened to see that was religious
among the people, especially at their thronging zealously to the place of public worship to implore mercy from Heaven in such
a time of distress; and this tavern where they held their dub being within view of the church-door, they had the more particular
occasion for their atheistical profane mirth.
But this began to abate a little with them before the accident which I have
related happened, for the infection increased so violently at this part of the town now, that people began to be afraid to
come to the church; at least such numbers did not resort thither as was usual. Many of the clergymen likewise were dead, and
others gone into the country; for it really required a steady courage and a strong faith for a man not only to venture being
in town at such a time as this, but likewise to venture to come to church and perform the office of a minister to a congregation,
of whom he had reason to believe many of them were actually infected with the plague, and to do this every day, or twice a
day, as in some places was done.
It is true the people showed an extraordinary zeal in these religious exercises, and
as the church-doors were always open, people would go in single at all times, whether the minister was officiating or no,
and locking themselves into separate pews, would be praying to God with great fervency and devotion.
at meeting-houses, every one as their different opinions in such things guided, but all were promiscuously the subject of
these men's drollery, especially at the beginning of the visitation.
It seems they had been checked for their open insulting
religion in this manner by several good people of every persuasion, and that, and the violent raging of the infection, I suppose,
was the occasion that they had abated much of their rudeness for some time before, and were only roused by the spirit of ribaldry
and atheism at the clamour which was made when the gentleman was first brought in there, and perhaps were agitated by the
same devil, when I took upon me to reprove them; though I did it at first with all the calmness, temper, and good manners
that I could, which for a while they insulted me the more for thinking it had been in fear of their resentment, though afterwards
they found the contrary.
I went home, indeed, grieved and afflicted in my mind at the abominable wickedness of those men,
not doubting, however, that they would be made dreadful examples of God's justice; for I looked upon this dismal time to be
a particular season of Divine vengeance, and that God would on this occasion single out the proper objects of His displeasure
in a more especial and remarkable manner than at another time; and that though I did believe that many good people would,
and did, fall in the common calamity, and that it was no certain rule to ' judge of the eternal state of any one by their
being distinguished in such a time of general destruction neither one way or other; yet, I say, it could not but seem reasonable
to believe that God would not think fit to spare by His mercy such open declared enemies, that should insult His name and
Being, defy His vengeance, and mock at His worship and worshippers at such a time; no, not though His mercy had thought fit
to bear with and spare them at other times; that this was a day of visitation, a day of God's anger, and those words came
into my thought, Jer. v. 9: "Shall I not visit for these things? saith the Lord: and shall not My soul be avenged of such
a nation as this?"
These things, I say, lay upon my mind, and I went home very much grieved and oppressed with the horror
of these men's wickedness, and to think that anything could be so vile, so hardened, and notoriously wicked as to insult God,
and His servants, and His worship in such a manner, and at such a time as this was, when He had, as it were, His sword drawn
in His hand on purpose to take vengeance not on them only, but on the whole nation.
I had, indeed, been in some passion
at first with them - though it was really raised, not by any affront they had offered me personally, but by the horror their
blaspheming tongues filled me with. However, I was doubtful in my thoughts whether the resentment I retained was not all upon
my own private account, for they had given me a great deal of ill language too - I mean personally; but after some pause,
and having a weight of grief upon my mind, I retired myself as soon as I came home, for I slept not that night; and giving
God most humble thanks for my preservation in the eminent danger I had been in, I set my mind seriously and with the utmost
earnestness to pray for those desperate wretches, that God would pardon them, open their eyes, and effectually humble them.
By this I not only did my duty, namely, to pray for those who despitefully used me, but I fully tried my own heart, to
my fun satisfaction, that it was not filled with any spirit of resentment as they had offended me in particular; and I humbly
recommend the method to all those that would know, or be certain, how to distinguish between their zeal for the honour of
God and the effects of their private passions and resentment.
But I must go back here to the particular incidents which
occur to my thoughts of the time of the visitation, and particularly to the time of their shutting up houses in the first
part of their sickness; for before the sickness was come to its height people had more room to make their observations than
they had afterward; but when it was in the extremity there was no such thing as communication with one another, as before.
During the shutting up of houses, as I have said, some violence was offered to the watchmen. As to soldiers, there were
none to be found.- the few guards which the king then had, which were nothing like the number entertained since, were dispersed,
either at Oxford with the Court, or in quarters in the remoter parts of the country, small detachments excepted, who did duty
at the Tower and at Whitehall, and these but very few. Neither am I positive that there was any other guard at the Tower than
the warders, as they called them, who stand at the gate with gowns and caps, the same as the yeomen of the guard, except the
ordinary gunners, who were twenty-four, and the officers appointed to look after the magazine, who were called armourers.
As to trained bands, there was no possibility of raising any; neither, if the Lieutenancy, either of London or Middlesex,
had ordered the drums to beat for the militia, would any of the companies, I believe, have drawn together, whatever risk they
This made the watchmen be the less regarded, and perhaps occasioned the greater violence to be used against them.
I mention it on this score to observe that the setting watchmen thus to keep the people in was, first of all, not effectual,
but that the people broke out, whether by force or by stratagem, even almost as often as they pleased; and, second, that those
that did thus break out were generally people infected who, in their desperation, running about from one place to another,
valued not whom they injured: and which perhaps, as I have said, might give birth to report that it was natural to the infected
people to desire to infect others, which report was really false.
And I know it so well, and in so many several cases,
that I could give several relations of good, pious, and religious people who, when they have had the distemper, have been
so far from being forward to infect others that they have forbid their own family to come near them, in hopes of their being
preserved, and have even died without seeing their nearest relations lest they should be instrumental to give them the distemper,
and infect or endanger them. If, then, there were cases wherein the infected people were careless of the injury they did to
others, this was certainly one of them, if not the chief, namely, when people who had the distemper had broken out from houses
which were so shut up, and having been driven to extremities for provision or for entertainment, had endeavoured to conceal
their condition, and have been thereby instrumental involuntarily to infect others who have been ignorant and unwary.
is one of the reasons why I believed then, and do believe still, that the shutting up houses thus by force, and restraining,
or rather imprisoning, people in their own houses, as I said above, was of little or no service in the whole. Nay, I am of
opinion it was rather hurtful, having forced those desperate people to wander abroad with the plague upon them, who would
otherwise have died quietly in their beds.
I remember one citizen who, having thus broken out of his house in Aldersgate
Street or thereabout, went along the road to Islington; he attempted to have gone in at the Angel Inn, and after that the
White Horse, two inns known still by the same signs, but was refused; after which he came to the Pied Bull, an inn also still
continuing the same sign. He asked them for lodging for one night only, pretending to be going into Lincolnshire, and assuring
them of his being very sound and free from the infection, which also at that time had not reached much that way.
told him they had no lodging that they could spare but one bed up in the garret, and that they could spare that bed for one
night, some drovers being expected the next day with cattle; so, if he would accept of that lodging, he might have it, which
he did. So a servant was sent up with a candle with him to show him the room. He was very well dressed, and looked like a
person not used to lie in a garret; and when he came to the room he fetched a deep sigh, and said to the servant, "I have
seldom lain in such a lodging as this. "However, the servant assuring him again that they had no better, "Well," says he,
"I must make shift; this is a dreadful time; but it is but for one night." So he sat down upon the bedside, and bade the maid,
I think it was, fetch him up a pint of warm ale. Accordingly the servant went for the ale, but some hurry in the house, which
perhaps employed her other ways, put it out of her head, and she went up no more to him.
The next morning, seeing no appearance
of the gentleman, somebody in the house asked the servant that had showed him upstairs what was become of him. She started.
"Alas l" says she, "I never thought more of him. He bade me carry him some warm ale, but I forgot." Upon which, not the maid,
but some other person was sent up to see after him, who, coming into the room, found him stark dead and almost cold, stretched
out across the bed. His clothes were pulled off, his jaw fallen, his eyes open in a most frightful posture, the rug of the
bed being grasped hard in one of his hands, so that it was plain he died soon after the maid left him; and 'tis probable,
had she gone up with the ale, she had found him dead in a few minutes after he sat down upon the bed. The alarm was great
in the house, as anyone may suppose, they having been free from the distemper till that disaster, which, bringing the infection
to the house, spread it immediately to other houses round about it. I do not remember how many died in the house itself, but
I think the maid-servant who went up first with him fell presently ill by the fright, and several others; for, whereas there
died but two in Islington of the plague the week before, there died seventeen the week after, whereof fourteen were of the
plague. This was in the week from the 11th of July to the 18th.
There was one shift that some families had, and that not
a few, when their houses happened to be infected, and that was this: the families who, in the first breaking-out of the distemper,
fled away into the country and had retreats among their friends, generally found some or other of their neighbours or relations
to commit the charge of those houses to for the safety of the goods and the like. Some houses were, indeed, entirely locked
up, the doors padlocked, the windows and doors having deal boards nailed over them, and only the inspection of them committed
to the ordinary watchmen and parish officers; bat these were but few.
It was thought that there were not less than 10,000
houses forsaken of the inhabitants in the city and suburbs, including what was in the out-parishes and in Surrey, or the side
of the water they called Southwark. This was besides the numbers of lodgers, and of particular persons who were fled out of
other families; so that in all it was computed that about 200,000 people were fled and gone. But of this I shall speak again.
But I mention it here on this account, namely, that it was a rule with those who had thus two houses in their keeping or care,
that if anybody was taken sick in a family, before the master of the family let the examiners or any other officer know of
it, he immediately would send all the rest of his family, whether children or servants, as it fell out to be, to such other
house which he had so in charge, and then giving notice of the sick person to the examiner, have a nurse or nurses appointed,
and have another person to be shut up in the house with them (which many for money would do), so to take charge of the house
in case the person should die.
This was, in many cases, the saving a whole family, who, if they had been shut up with
the sick person, would inevitably have perished. But, on the other hand, this was another of the inconveniences of shutting
up houses; for the apprehensions and terror of being shut up made many run away with the rest of the family, who, though it
was not publicly known, and they were not quite sick, had yet the distemper upon them; and who, by having an uninterrupted
liberty to go about, but being obliged still to conceal their circumstances, or perhaps not knowing it themselves, gave the
distemper to others, and spread the infection in a dreadful manner, as I shall explain further hereafter.
And here I may
be able to make an observation or two of my own, which may be of use hereafter to those into whose bands these may come, if
they should ever see the like dreadful visitation. (1) The infection generally came into the houses of the citizens by the
means of their servants, whom they were obliged to send up and down the streets for necessaries; that is to say, for food
or physic, to bakehouses, brew-houses, shops, &c.; and who going necessarily through the streets into shops, markets,
and the like, it was impossible but that they should, one way or other, meet with distempered people, who conveyed the fatal
breath into them, and they brought it home to the families to which they belonged. (2) It was a great mistake that such a
great city as this had but one pest-house; for had there been, instead of one pest-house - viz., beyond Bunhill Fields, where,
at most, they could receive, perhaps, two hundred or three hundred people - I say, had there, instead of that one, been several
pest-houses, every one able to contain a thousand people, without lying two in a bed, or two beds in a room; and had every
master of a family, as soon as any servant especially had been taken sick in his house, been obliged to send them to the next
pest-house, if they were willing, as many were, and had the examiners done the like among the poor people when any had been
stricken with the infection; I say, had this been done where the people were willing (not otherwise), and the houses not been
shut, I am persuaded, and was all the while of that opinion, that not so many, by several thousands, had died; for it was
observed, and I could give several instances within the compass of my own knowledge, where a servant had been taken sick,
and the family had either time to send him out or retire from the house and leave the sick person, as I have said above, they
had all been preserved; whereas when, upon one or more sickening in a family, the house has been shut up, the whole family
have perished, and the bearers been obliged to go in to fetch out the dead bodies, not being able to bring them to the door,
and at last none left to do it.
(3) This put it out of question to me, that the calamity was spread by infection; that
is to say, by some certain steams or fumes, which the physicians call effluvia, by the breath, or by the sweat, or by the
stench of the sores of the sick persons, or some other way, perhaps, beyond even the reach of the physicians themselves, which
effluvia affected the sound who came within certain distances of the sick, immediately penetrating the vital parts of the
said sound persons, putting their blood into an immediate ferment, and agitating their spirits to that degree which it was
found they were agitated; and so those newly infected persons communicated it in the same manner to others. And this I shall
give some instances of, that cannot but convince those who seriously consider it; and I cannot but with some wonder find some
people, now the contagion is over, talk of its being an immediate stroke from Heaven, without the agency of means, having
commission to strike this and that particular person, and none other - which I look upon with contempt as the effect of manifest
ignorance and enthusiasm; likewise the opinion of others, who talk of infection being carried on by the air only, by carrying
with it vast numbers of insects and invisible creatures, who enter into the body with the breath, or even at the pores with
the air, and there generate or emit most acute poisons, or poisonous ovae or eggs, which mingle themselves with the blood,
and so infect the body: a discourse full of learned simplicity, and manifested to be so by universal experience; but I shall
say more to this case in its order.
I must here take further notice that nothing was more fatal to the inhabitants of
this city than the supine negligence of the people themselves, who, during the long notice or warning they had of the visitation,
made no provision for it by laying in store of provisions, or of other necessaries, by which they might have lived retired
and within their own houses, as I have observed others did, and who were in a great measure preserved by that caution; nor
were they, after they were a little hardened to it, so shy of conversing with one another, when actually infected, as they
were at first: no, though they knew it.
I acknowledge I was one of those thoughtless ones that had made so little provision
that my servants were obliged to go out of doors to buy every trifle by penny and halfpenny, just as before it began, even
till my experience showing me the folly, I began to be wiser so late that I had scarce time to store myself sufficient for
our common subsistence for a month.
I had in family only an ancient woman that managed the house, a maid-servant, two
apprentices, and myself; and the plague beginning to increase about us, I had many sad thoughts about what course I should
take, and how I should act. The many dismal objects which happened everywhere as I went about the streets, had filled my mind
with a great deal of horror for fear of the distemper, which was indeed very horrible in itself, and in some more than in
others. The swellings, which were generally in the neck or groin, when they grew hard and would not break, grew so painful
that it was equal to the most exquisite torture; and some, not able to bear the torment, threw themselves out at windows or
shot themselves, or otherwise made themselves away, and I saw several dismal objects of that kind. Others, unable to contain
themselves, vented their pain by incessant roarings, and such loud and lamentable cries were to be heard as we walked along
the streets that would pierce the very heart to think of, especially when it was to be considered that the same dreadful scourge
might be expected every moment to seize upon ourselves.
I cannot say but that now I began to faint in my resolutions;
my heart failed me very much, and sorely I repented of my rashness. When I had been out, and met with such terrible things
as these I have talked of, I say I repented my rashness in venturing to abide in town. I wished often that I had not taken
upon me to stay, but had gone away with my brother and his family.
Terrified by those frightful objects, I would retire
home sometimes and resolve to go out no more; and perhaps I would keep those resolutions for three or four days, which time
I spent in the most serious thankfulness for my preservation and the preservation of my family, and the constant confession
of my sins, giving myself up to God every day, and applying to Him with fasting, humiliation, and meditation. Such intervals
as I had I employed in reading books and in writing down my memorandums of what occurred to me every day, and out of which
afterwards I took most of this work, as it relates to my observations without doors. What I wrote of my private meditations
I reserve for private use, and desire it may not be made public on any account whatever.
I also wrote other meditations
upon divine subjects, such as occurred to me at that time and were profitable to myself, but not fit for any other view, and
therefore I say no more of that.
I had a very good friend, a physician, whose name was Heath, whom I frequently visited
during this dismal time, and to whose advice I was very much obliged for many things which he directed me to take, by way
of preventing the infection when I went out, as he found I frequently did, and to hold in my mouth when I was in the streets.
He also came very often to see me, and as he was a good Christian as well as a good physician, his agreeable conversation
was a very great support to me in the worst of this terrible time.
It was now the beginning of August, and the plague
grew very violent and terrible in the place where I lived, and Dr Heath coming to visit me, and finding that I ventured so
often out in the streets, earnestly persuaded me to lock myself up and my family, and not to suffer any of us to go out of
doors; to keep all our windows fast, shutters and curtains close, and never to open them; but first, to make a very strong
smoke in the room where the window or door was to be opened, with rozen and pitch, brimstone or gunpowder and the like; and
we did this for some time; but as I had not laid in a store of provision for such a retreat, it was impossible that we could
keep within doors entirely. However, I attempted, though it was so very late, to do something towards it; and first, as I
had convenience both for brewing and baking, I went and bought two sacks of meal, and for several weeks, having an oven, we
baked all our own bread; also I bought malt, and brewed as much beer as all the casks I had would hold, and which seemed enough
to serve my house for five or six weeks; also I laid in a quantity of salt butter and Cheshire cheese; but I had no flesh-meat,
and the plague raged so violently among the butchers and slaughter-houses on the other side of our street, where they are
known to dwell in great numbers, that it was not advisable so much as to go over the street among them.
And here I must
observe again, that this necessity of going out of our houses to buy provisions was in a great measure the ruin of the whole
city, for the people catched the distemper on these occasions one of another, and even the provisions themselves were often
tainted; at least I have great reason to believe so; and therefore I cannot say with satisfaction what I know is repeated
with great assurance, that the market-people and such as brought provisions to town were never infected. I am certain the
butchers of Whitechappel, where the greatest part of the flesh-meat was killed, were dreadfully visited, and that at least
to such a degree that few of their shops were kept open, and those that remained of them killed their meat at Mile End and
that way, and brought it to market upon horses.
However, the poor people could not lay up provisions, and there was a
necessity that they must go to market to buy, and others to send servants or their children; and as this was a necessity which
renewed itself daily, it brought abundance of unsound people to the markets, and a great many that went thither sound brought
death home with them.
It is true people used all possible precaution. When any one bought a joint of meat in the market
they would not take it off the butcher's hand, but took it off the hooks themselves. On the other hand, the butcher would
not touch the money, but have it put into a pot full of vinegar, which he kept for that purpose. The buyer carried always
small money to make up any odd sum, that they might take no change. They carried bottles of scents and perfumes in their hands,
and all the means that could be used were used, but then the poor could not do even these things, and they went at all hazards.
Innumerable dismal stories we heard every day on this very account. Sometimes a man or woman dropped down dead in the
very markets, for many people that had the plague upon them knew nothing of it till the inward gangrene had affected their
vitals, and they died in a few moments. This caused that many died frequently in that manner in the streets suddenly, without
any warning; others perhaps had time to go to the next bulk or stall, or to any door-porch, and just sit down and die, as
I have said before.
These objects were so frequent in the streets that when the plague came to be very raging on one side,
there was scarce any passing by the streets but that several dead bodies would be lying here and there upon the ground. On
the other hand, it is observable that though at first the people would stop as they went along and call to the neighbours
to come out on such an occasion, yet afterward no notice was taken of them; but that if at any time we found a corpse lying,
go across the way and not come near it; or, if in a narrow lane or passage, go back again and seek some other way to go on
the business we were upon; and in those cases the corpse was always left till the officers had notice to come and take them
away, or till night, when the bearers attending the dead-cart would take them up and carry them away. Nor did those undaunted
creatures who performed these offices fail to search their pockets, and sometimes strip off their clothes if they were well
dressed, as sometimes they were, and carry off what they could get.
But to return to the markets. The butchers took that
care that if any person died in the market they had the officers always at band to take them up upon hand-barrows and carry
them to the next churchyard; and this was so frequent that such were not entered in the weekly bill, "Found dead in the streets
or fields", as is the case now, but they went into the general articles of the great distemper.
But now the fury of the
distemper increased to such a degree that even the markets were but very thinly furnished with provisions or frequented with
buyers compared to what they were before; and the Lord Mayor caused the country people who brought provisions to be stopped
in the streets leading into the town, and to sit down there with their goods, where they sold what they brought, and went
immediately away; and this encouraged the country people greatly-to do so, for they sold their provisions at the very entrances
into the town, and even in the fields, as particularly in the fields beyond Whitechappel, in Spittlefields; also in St George's
Fields in Southwark, in Bunhill Fields, and in a great field called Wood's Close, near Islington. Thither the Lord Mayor,
aldermen, and magistrates sent their officers and servants to buy for their families, themselves keeping within doors as much
as possible, and the like did many other people; and after this method was taken the country people came with great cheerfulness,
and brought provisions of all sorts, and very seldom got any harm, which, I suppose, added also to that report of their being
As for my little family, having thus, as I have said, laid in a store of bread, butter, cheese,
and beer, I took my friend and physician's advice, and locked myself up, and my family, and resolved to suffer the hardship
of living a few months without flesh-meat, rather than to purchase it at the hazard of our lives.
But though I confined
my family, I could not prevail upon my unsatisfied curiosity to stay within entirely myself; and though I generally came frighted
and terrified home, vet I could not restrain; only that indeed I did not do it so frequently as at first.
I had some little
obligations, indeed, upon me to go to my brother's house, which was in Coleman Street parish and which he had left to my care,
and I went at first every day, but afterwards only once or twice a week.
In these walks I had many dismal scenes before
my eyes, as particularly of persons falling dead in the streets, terrible shrieks and screechings of women, who, in their
agonies, would throw open their chamber windows and cry out in a dismal, surprising manner. It is impossible to describe the
variety of postures in which the passions of the poor people would express themselves.
Passing through Tokenhouse Yard,
in Lothbury, of a sudden a casement violently opened just over my head, and a woman gave three frightful screeches, and then
cried, "Oh! death, death, death!" in a most inimitable tone, and which struck me with horror and a chillness in my very blood.
There was nobody to be seen in the whole street, neither did any other window open. for people had no curiosity now in any
case, nor could anybody help one another, so I went on to pass into Bell Alley.
Just in Bell Alley, on the right hand
of the passage, there was a more terrible cry than that, though it was not so directed out at the window; but the whole family
was in a terrible fright, and I could hear women and children run screaming about the rooms like distracted, when a garret-window
opened and somebody from a window on the other side the alley called and asked, "What is the matter?" upon which, from the
first window, it was answered, "Oh Lord, my old master has hanged himself!" The other asked again, "Is he quite dead?" and
the first answered, "Ay, ay, quite dead; quite dead and cold!" This person was a merchant and a deputy alderman, and very
rich. I care not to mention the name, though I knew his name too, but that would be an hardship to the family, which is now
But this is but one; it is scarce credible what dreadful cases happened in particular families every
day. People in the rage of the distemper, or in the torment of their swellings, which was indeed intolerable, running out
of their own government, raving and distracted, and oftentimes laying violent hands upon themselves, throwing themselves out
at their windows, shooting themselves.,;, &c.; mothers murdering their own children in their lunacy, some dying of mere
grief as a passion, some of mere fright and surprise without any infection at all, others frighted into idiotism and foolish
distractions, some into despair and lunacy, others into melancholy madness.
The pain of the swelling was in particular
very violent, and to some intolerable; the physicians and surgeons may be said to have tortured many poor creatures even to
death. The swellings in some grew hard, and they applied violent drawing-plaisters or poultices to break them, and if these
did not do they cut and scarified them in a terrible manner. In some those swellings were made hard partly by the force of
the distemper and partly by their being too violently drawn, and were so hard that no instrument could cut them, and then
they burnt them with caustics, so that many died raving mad with the torment, and some in the very operation. In these distresses,
some, for want of help to hold them down in their beds, or to look to them, laid hands upon themselves as above. Some broke
out into the streets, perhaps naked, and would run directly down to the river if they were not stopped by the watchman or
other officers, and plunge themselves into the water wherever they found it.
It often pierced my very soul to hear the
groans and cries of those who were thus tormented, but of the two this was counted the most promising particular in the whole
infection, for if these swellings could be brought to a head, and to break and run, or, as the surgeons call it, to digest,
the patient generally recovered; whereas those who, like the gentlewoman's daughter, were struck with death at the beginning,
and had the tokens come out upon them, often went about indifferent easy till a little before they died, and some till the
moment they dropped down, as in apoplexies and epilepsies is often the case. Such would be taken suddenly very sick, and would
run to a bench or bulk, or any convenient place that offered itself, or to their own houses if possible, as I mentioned before,
and there sit down, grow faint, and die. This kind of dying was much the same as it was with those who die of common mortifications,
who die swooning, and, as it were, go away in a dream. Such as died thus had very little notice of their being infected at
all till the gangrene was spread through their whole body; nor could physicians themselves know certainly how it was with
them till they opened their breasts or other parts of their body and saw the tokens.
We had at this time a great many
frightful stories told us of nurses and watchmen who looked after the dying people; that is to say, hired nurses who attended
infected people, using them barbarously, starving them, smothering them, or by other wicked means hastening their end, that
is to say, murdering of them; and watchmen, being set to guard houses that were shut up when there has been but one person
left, and perhaps that one lying sick, that they have broke in and murdered that body, and immediately thrown them out into
the dead-cart! And so they have gone scarce cold to the grave.
I cannot say but that some such murders were committed,
and I think two were sent to prison for it, but died before they could be tried; and I have heard that three others, at several
times, were excused for murders of that kind; but I must say I believe nothing of its being so common a crime as some have
since been pleased to say, nor did it seem to be so rational where the people were brought so low as not to be able to help
themselves, for such seldom recovered, and there was no temptation to commit a murder, at least none equal to the fact, where
they were sure persons would die in so short a time, and could not live.
Chapter - 5
That there were a great many
robberies and wicked practices committed even in this dreadful time I do not deny. The power of avarice was so strong in some
that they would run any hazard to steal and to plunder; and particularly in houses where all the families or inhabitants have
been dead and carried out, they would break in at all hazards, and without regard to the danger of infection, take even the
clothes off the dead bodies and the bed-clothes from others where they lay dead.
This, I suppose, must be the case of
a family in Houndsditch, where a man and his daughter, the rest of the family being, as I suppose, carried away before by
the dead-cart, were found stark naked, one in one chamber and one in another, lying dead on the floor, and the clothes of
the beds, from whence 'tis supposed they were rolled off by thieves, stolen and carried quite away.
It is indeed to be
observed that the women were in all this calamity the most rash, fearless, and desperate creatures, and as there were vast
numbers that went about as nurses to tend those that were sick, they committed a great many petty thieveries in the houses
where they were employed; and some of them were publicly whipped for it, when perhaps they ought rather to have been hanged
for examples, for numbers of houses were robbed on these occasions, till at length the parish officers were sent to recommend
nurses to the sick, and always took an account whom it was they sent, so as that they might call them to account if the house
had been abused where they were placed.
But these robberies extended chiefly to wearing-clothes, linen, and what rings
or money they could come at when the person died who was under their care, but not to a general plunder of the houses; and
I could give you an account of one of these nurses, who, several years after, being on her deathbed, confessed with the utmost
horror the robberies she had committed at the time of her being a nurse, and by which she had enriched herself to a great
degree. But as for murders, I do not find that there was ever any proof of the facts in the manner as it has been reported,
except as above.
They did tell me, indeed, of a nurse in one place that laid a wet cloth upon the face of a dying patient
whom she tended, and so put an end to his life, who was just expiring before; and another that smothered a young woman she
was looking to when she was in a fainting fit, and would have come to herself; some that killed them by giving them one thing,
some another, and some starved them by giving them nothing at all. But these stories had two marks of suspicion that always
attended them, which caused me always to slight them and to look on them as mere stories that people continually frighted
one another with. First, that wherever it was that we heard it, they always placed the scene at the farther end of the town,
opposite or most remote from where you were to hear it. If you heard it in Whitechappel, it had happened at St Giles's, or
at Westminster, or Holborn, or that end of the town. If you heard of it at that end of the town, then it was done in Whitechappel,
or the Minories, or about Cripplegate parish. If you heard of it in the city, why, then it happened in Southwark; and if you
heard of it in Southwark, then it was done in the city, and the like.
In the next place, of what part soever you heard
the story, the particulars were always the same, especially that of laying a wet double clout on a dying man's face, and that
of smothering a young gentlewoman; so that it was apparent, at least to my judgement, that there was more of tale than of
truth in those things.
However, I cannot say but it had some effect upon the people, and particularly that, as I said
before, they grew more cautious whom they took into their houses, and whom they trusted their lives with, and had them always
recommended if they could; and where they could not find such, for they were not very plenty, they applied to the parish officers.
But here again the misery of that time lay upon the poor who, being infected, had neither food or physic, neither physician
or apothecary to assist them, or nurse to attend them. Many of those died calling for help, and even for sustenance, out at
their windows in a most miserable and deplorable manner; but it must be added that whenever the cases of such persons or families
were represented to my Lord Mayor they always were relieved.
It is true, in some houses where the people were not very
poor, yet where they had sent perhaps their wives and children away, and if they had any servants they had been dismissed;
- I say it is true that to save the expenses, many such as these shut themselves in, and not having help, died alone.
neighbour and acquaintance of mine, having some money owing to him from a shopkeeper in Whitecross Street or thereabouts,
sent his apprentice, a youth about eighteen years of age, to endeavour to get the money. He came to the door, and finding
it shut, knocked pretty hard; and, as he thought, heard somebody answer within, but was not sure, so he waited, and after
some stay knocked again, and then a third time, when he heard somebody coming downstairs.
At length the man of the house
came to the door; he had on his breeches or drawers, and a yellow flannel waistcoat, no stockings, a pair of slipped-shoes,
a white cap on his head, and, as the young man said, "death in his face".
When he opened the door, says he, "What do you
disturb me thus for?" The boy, though a little surprised, replied, "I come from such a one, and my master sent me for the
money which he says you know of." "Very well, child," returns the living ghost; "call as you go by at Cripplegate Church,
and bid them ring the bell"; and with these words shut the door again, and went up again, and died the same day; nay, perhaps
the same hour. This the young man told me himself, and I have reason to believe it. This was while the plague was not come
to a height. I think it was in June, towards the latter end of the month; it must be before the dead-carts came about, and
while they used the ceremony of ringing the bell for the dead, which was over for certain, in that parish at least, before
the month of July, for by the 25th of July there died 550 and upwards in a week, and then they could no more bury in form,
rich or poor.
I have mentioned above that notwithstanding this dreadful calamity, yet the numbers of thieves were abroad
upon all occasions, where they had found any prey, and that these were generally women. It was one morning about eleven o'clock,
I had walked out to my brother's house in Coleman Street parish, as I often did, to see that all was safe.
house had a little court before it, and a brick wall and a gate in it, and within that several warehouses where his goods
of several sorts lay. It happened that in one of these warehouses were several packs of women's high-crowned hats, which came
out of the country and were, as I suppose, for exportation: whither, I know not.
I was surprised that when I came near
my brother's door, which was in a place they called Swan Alley, I met three or four women with high-crowned hats on their
heads; and, as I remembered afterwards, one, if not more, had some hats likewise in their hands; but as I did not see them
come out at my brother's door, and not knowing that my brother had any such goods in his warehouse, I did not offer to say
anything to them, but went across the way to shun meeting them, as was usual to do at that time, for fear of the plague. But
when I came nearer to the gate I met another woman with more hats come out of the gate. "What business, mistress," said I,
"have you had there?" "There are more people there," said she; "I have had no more business there than they." I was hasty
to get to the gate then, and said no more to her, by which means she got away. But just as I came to the gate, I saw two more
coming across the yard to come out with hats also on their heads and under their arms, at which I threw the gate to behind
me, which having a spring lock fastened itself; and turning to the women, "Forsooth," said I, "what are you doing here?" and
seized upon the hats, and took them from them. One of them, who, I confess, did not look like a thief - "Indeed," says she,
"we are wrong, but we were told they were goods that had no owner. Be pleased to take them again; and look yonder, there are
more such customers as we." She cried and looked pitifully, so I took the hats from her and opened the gate, and bade them
be gone, for I pitied the women indeed; but when I looked towards the warehouse, as she directed, there were six or seven
more, all women, fitting themselves with hats as unconcerned and quiet as if they had been at a hatter's shop buying for their
I was surprised, not at the sight of so many thieves only, but at the circumstances I was in; being now to thrust
myself in among so many people, who for some weeks had been so shy of myself that if I met anybody in the street I would cross
the way from them.
They were equally surprised, though on another account. They all told me they were neighbours, that
they had heard anyone might take them, that they were nobody's goods, and the like. I talked big to them at first, went back
to the gate and took out the key, so that they were all my prisoners, threatened to lock them all into the warehouse, and
go and fetch my Lord Mayor's officers for them.
They begged heartily, protested they found the gate open, and the warehouse
door open; and that it had no doubt been broken open by some who expected to find goods of greater value: which indeed was
reasonable to believe, because the lock was broke, and a padlock that hung to the door on the outside also loose, and not
abundance of the hats carried away.
At length I considered that this was not a time to be cruel and rigorous; and besides
that, it would necessarily oblige me to go much about, to have several people come to me, and I go to several whose circumstances
of health I knew nothing of; and that even at this time the plague was so high as that there died 4000 a week; so that in
showing my resentment, or even in seeking justice for my brother's goods, I might lose my own life; so I contented myself
with taking the names and places where some of them lived, who were really inhabitants in the neighbourhood, and threatening
that my brother should call them to an account for it when he returned to his habitation.
Then I talked a little upon
another foot with them, and asked them how they could do such things as these in a time of such general calamity, and, as
it were, in the face of God's most dreadful judgements, when the plague was at their very doors, and, it may be, in their
very houses, and they did not know but that the dead-cart might stop at their doors in a few hours to carry them to their
I could not perceive that my discourse made much impression upon them all that while, till it happened that there
came two men of the neighbourhood, hearing of the disturbance, and knowing my brother, for they had been both dependents upon
his family, and they came to my assistance. These being, as I said, neighbours, presently knew three of the women and told
me who they were and where they lived; and it seems they had given me a true account of themselves before.
these two men to a further remembrance. The name of one was John Hayward, who was at that time undersexton of the parish of
St Stephen, Coleman Street. By undersexton was understood at that time gravedigger and bearer of the dead. This man carried,
or assisted to carry, all the dead to their graves which were buried in that large parish, and who were carried in form; and
after that form of burying was stopped, went with the dead-cart and the bell to fetch the dead bodies from the houses where
they lay, and fetched many of them out of the chambers and houses; for the parish was, and is still, remarkable particularly,
above all the parishes in London, for a great number of alleys and thoroughfares, very long, into which no carts could come,
and where they were obliged to go and fetch the bodies a very long way; which alleys now remain to witness it, such as White's
Alley, Cross Key Court, Swan Alley, Bell Alley, White Horse Alley, and many more. Here they went with a kind of hand- barrow
and laid the dead bodies on it, and carried them out to the carts; which work he performed and never had the distemper at
all, but lived about twenty years after it, and was sexton of the parish to the time of his death. His wife at the same time
was a nurse to infected people, and tended many that died in the parish, being for her honesty recommended by the parish officers;
yet she never was infected neither.
He never used any preservative against the infection, other than holding garlic and
rue in his mouth, and smoking tobacco. This I also had from his own mouth. And his wife's remedy was washing her head in vinegar
and sprinkling her head-clothes so with vinegar as to keep them always moist, and if the smell of any of those she waited
on was more than ordinary offensive, she snuffed vinegar up her nose and sprinkled vinegar upon her head-clothes, and held
a handkerchief wetted with vinegar to her mouth.
It must be confessed that though the plague was chiefly among the poor,
yet were the poor the most venturous and fearless of it, and went about their employment with a sort of brutal courage; I
must call it so, for it was founded neither on religion nor prudence; scarce did they use any caution, but ran into any business
which they could get employment in, though it was the most hazardous. Such was that of tending the sick, watching houses shut
up, carrying infected persons to the pest-house, and, which was still worse, carrying the dead away to their graves.
was under this John Hayward's care, and within his bounds, that the story of the piper, with which people have made themselves
so merry, happened, and he assured me that it was true. It is said that it was a blind piper; but, as John told me, the fellow
was not blind, but an ignorant, weak, poor man, and usually walked his rounds about ten o'clock at night and went piping along
from door to door, and the people usually took him in at public-houses where they knew him, and would give him drink and victuals,
and sometimes farthings; and he in return would pipe and sing and talk simply, which diverted the people; and thus he lived.
It was but a very bad time for this diversion while things were as I have told, yet the poor fellow went about as usual, but
was almost starved; and when anybody asked how he did he would answer, the dead cart had not taken him yet, but that they
had promised to call for him next week.
It happened one night that this poor fellow, whether somebody had given him too
much drink or no - John Hayward said he had not drink in his house, but that they had given him a little more victuals than
ordinary at a public-house in Coleman Street - and the poor fellow, having not usually had a bellyful for perhaps not a good
while, was laid all along upon the top of a bulk or stall, and fast asleep, at a door in the street near London Wall, towards
Cripplegate-, and that upon the same bulk or stall the people of some house, in the alley of which the house was a corner,
hearing a bell which they always rang before the cart came, had laid a body really dead of the plague just by him, thinking,
too, that this poor fellow had been a dead body, as the other was, and laid there by some of the neighbours.
when John Hayward with his bell and the cart came along, finding two dead bodies lie upon the stall, they took them up with
the instrument they used and threw them into the cart, and, all this while the piper slept soundly.
From hence they passed
along and took in other dead bodies, till, as honest John Hayward told me, they almost buried him alive in the cart; yet all
this while he slept soundly. At length the cart came to the place where the bodies were to be thrown into the ground, which,
as I do remember, was at Mount Mill; and as the cart usually stopped some time before they were ready to shoot out the melancholy
load they had in it, as soon as the cart stopped the fellow awaked and struggled a little to get his head out from among the
dead bodies, when, raising himself up in the cart, he called out, "Hey! where am I?" This frighted the fellow that attended
about the work; but after some pause John Hayward, recovering himself, said, "Lord, bless us! There's somebody in the cart
not quite dead!" So another called to him and said, "Who are you?" The fellow answered, "I am the poor piper. Where am I?"
"Where are you?" says Hayward. "Why, you are in the dead-cart, and we are going to bury you." "But I an't dead though, am
I?" says the piper, which made them laugh a little though, as John said, they were heartily frighted at first; so they helped
the poor fellow down, and he went about his business.
I know the story goes he set up his pipes in the cart and frighted
the bearers and others so that they ran away; but John Hayward did not tell the story so, nor say anything of his piping at
all; but that he was a poor piper, and that he was carried away as above I am fully satisfied of the truth of.
It is to
be noted here that the dead-carts in the city were not confined to particular parishes, but one cart went through several
parishes, according as the number of dead presented; nor were they tied to carry the dead to their respective parishes, but
many of the dead taken up in the city were carried to the burying-ground in the out-parts for want of room.
I have already
mentioned the surprise that this judgement was at first among the people. I must be allowed to give some of my observations
on the more serious and religious part. Surely never city, at least of this bulk and magnitude, was taken in a condition so
perfectly unprepared for such a dreadful visitation, whether I am to speak of the civil preparations or religious. They were,
indeed, as if they had had no warning, no expectation, no apprehensions, and consequently the least provision imaginable was
made for it in a public way. For example, the Lord Mayor and sheriffs had made no provision as magistrates for the regulations
which were to be observed. They had gone into no measures for relief of the poor. The citizens had no public magazines or
storehouses for corn or meal for the subsistence of the poor, which if they had provided themselves, as in such cases is done
abroad, many miserable families who were now reduced to the utmost distress would have been relieved, and that in a better
manner than now could be done.
The stock of the city's money I can say but little to. The Chamber of London was said to
be exceedingly rich, and it may be concluded that they were so, by the vast of money issued from thence in the rebuilding
the public edifices after the fire of London, and in building new works, such as, for the first part, the Guildhall, Blackwell
Hall, part of Leadenhall, half the Exchange, the Session House, the Compter, the prisons of Ludgate, Newgate, &c., several
of the wharfs and stairs and landing-places on the river; all which were either burned down or damaged by the great fire of
London, the next year after the plague; and of the second sort, the Monument, Fleet Ditch with its bridges, and the Hospital
of Bethlem or Bedlam, &c. But possibly the managers of the city's credit at that time made more conscience of breaking
in upon the orphan's money to show charity to the distressed citizens than the managers in the following years did to beautify
the city and re-edify the buildings; though, in the first case, the losers would have thought their fortunes better bestowed,
and the public faith of the city have been less subjected to scandal and reproach.
It must be acknowledged that the absent
citizens, who, though they were fled for safety into the country, were yet greatly interested in the welfare of those whom
they left behind, forgot not to contribute liberally to the relief of the poor, and large sums were also collected among trading
towns in the remotest parts of England; and, as I have heard also, the nobility and the gentry in all parts of England took
the deplorable condition of the city into their consideration, and sent up large sums of money in charity to the Lord Mayor
and magistrates for the relief of the poor. The king also, as I was told, ordered a thousand pounds a week to be distributed
in four parts: one quarter to the city and liberty of Westminster; one quarter or part among the inhabitants of the Southwark
side of the water; one quarter to the liberty and parts within of the city, exclusive of the city within the walls; and one-
fourth part to the suburbs in the county of Middlesex, and the east and north parts of the city. But this latter I only speak
of as a report.
Certain it is, the greatest part of the poor or families who formerly lived by their labour, or by retail
trade, lived now on charity; and had there not been prodigious sums of money given by charitable, well- minded Christians
for the support of such, the city could never have subsisted. There were, no question, accounts kept of their charity, and
of the just distribution of it by the magistrates. But as such multitudes of those very officers died through whose hands
it was distributed, and also that, as I have been told, most of the accounts of those things were lost in the great fire which
happened in the very next year, and which burnt even the chamberlain's office and many of their papers, so I could never come
at the particular account, which I used great endeavours to have seen.
It may, however, be a direction in case of the
approach of a like visitation, which God keep the city from; - I say, it may be of use to observe that by the care of the
Lord Mayor and aldermen at that time in distributing weekly great sums of money for relief of the poor, a multitude of people
who would otherwise have perished, were relieved, and their lives preserved. And here let me enter into a brief state of the
case of the poor at that time, and what way apprehended from them, from whence may be judged hereafter what may be expected
if the like distress should come upon the city.
At the beginning of the plague, when there was now no more hope but that
the whole city would be visited; when, as I have said, all that had friends or estates in the country retired with their families;
and when, indeed, one would have thought the very city itself was running out of the gates, and that there would be nobody
left behind; you may be sure from that hour all trade, except such as related to immediate subsistence, was, as it were, at
a full stop.
This is so lively a case, and contains in it so much of the real condition of the people, that I think I
cannot be too particular in it, and therefore I descend to the several arrangements or classes of people who fell into immediate
distress upon this occasion. For example:
1. All master-workmen in manufactures, especially such as belonged to ornament
and the less necessary parts of the people's dress, clothes, and furniture for houses, such as riband-weavers and other weavers,
gold and silver lace makers, and gold and silver wire drawers, seamstresses, milliners, shoemakers, hatmakers, and glovemakers;
also upholsterers, joiners, cabinet-makers, looking-glass makers, and innumerable trades which depend upon such as these;
- I say, the master-workmen in such stopped their work, dismissed their journeymen and workmen, and all their dependents.
2. As merchandising was at a full stop, for very few ships ventured to come up the river and none at all went out, so
all the extraordinary officers of the customs, likewise the watermen, carmen, porters, and all the poor whose labour depended
upon the merchants, were at once dismissed and put out of business.
3. All the tradesmen usually employed in building
or repairing of houses were at a full stop, for the people were far from wanting to build houses when so many thousand houses
were at once stripped of their inhabitants; so that this one article turned all the ordinary workmen of that kind out of business,
such as bricklayers, masons, carpenters, joiners, plasterers, painters, glaziers, smiths, plumbers, and all the labourers
depending on such.
4. As navigation was at a stop, our ships neither coming in or going out as before, so the seamen were
all out of employment, and many of them in the last and lowest degree of distress; and with the seamen were all the several
tradesmen and workmen belonging to and depending upon the building and fitting out of ships, such as ship- carpenters, caulkers,
ropemakers, dry coopers, sailmakers, anchorsmiths, and other smiths; blockmakers, carvers, gunsmiths, ship-chandlers, ship-carvers,
and the like. The masters of those perhaps might live upon their substance, but the traders were universally at a stop, and
consequently all their workmen discharged. Add to these that the river was in a manner without boats, and all or most part
of the watermen, lightermen, boat-builders, and lighter- builders in like manner idle and laid by.
5. All families retrenched
their living as much as possible, as well those that fled as those that stayed; so that an innumerable multitude of footmen,
serving-men, shopkeepers, journeymen, merchants' bookkeepers, and such sort of people, and especially poor maid- servants,
were turned off, and left friendless and helpless, without employment and without habitation, and this was really a dismal
I might be more particular as to this part, but it may suffice to mention in general, all trades being stopped,
employment ceased: the labour, and by that the bread, of the poor were cut off; and at first indeed the cries of the poor
were most lamentable to hear, though by the distribution of charity their misery that way was greatly abated. Many indeed
fled into the counties, but thousands of them having stayed in London till nothing but desperation sent them away, death overtook
them on the road, and they served for no better than the messengers of death; indeed, others carrying the infection along
with them, spread it very unhappily into the remotest parts of the kingdom.
Many of these were the miserable objects of
despair which I have mentioned before, and were removed by the destruction which followed. These might be said to perish not
by the infection itself but by the consequence of it; indeed, namely, by hunger and distress and the want of all things: being
without lodging, without money, without friends, without means to get their bread, or without anyone to give it them; for
many of them were without what we call legal settlements, and so could not claim of the parishes, and all the support they
had was by application to the magistrates for relief, which relief was (to give the magistrates their due) carefully and cheerfully
administered as they found it necessary, and those that stayed behind never felt the want and distress of that kind which
they felt who went away in the manner above noted.
Let any one who is acquainted with what multitudes of people get their
daily bread in this city by their labour, whether artificers or mere workmen - I say, let any man consider what must be the
miserable condition of this town if, on a sudden, they should be all turned out of employment, that labour should cease, and
wages for work be no more.
This was the case with us at that time; and had not the sums of money contributed in charity
by well-disposed people of every kind, as well abroad as at home, been prodigiously great, it had not been in the power of
the Lord Mayor and sheriffs to have kept the public peace. Nor were they without apprehensions, as it was, that desperation
should push the people upon tumults, and cause them to rifle the houses of rich men and plunder the markets of provisions;
in which case the country people, who brought provisions very freely and boldly to town, would have been terrified from coming
any more, and the town would have sunk under an unavoidable famine.
But the prudence of my Lord Mayor and the Court of
Aldermen within the city, and of the justices of peace in the out-parts, was such, and they were supported with money from
all parts so well, that the poor people were kept quiet, and their wants everywhere relieved, as far as was possible to be
Two things besides this contributed to prevent the mob doing any mischief. One was, that really the rich themselves
had not laid up stores of provisions in their houses as indeed they ought to have done, and which if they had been wise enough
to have done, and locked themselves entirely up, as some few did, they had perhaps escaped the disease better. But as it appeared
they had not, so the mob had no notion of finding stores of provisions there if they had broken in. as it is plain they were
sometimes very near doing, and which: if they bad, they had finished the ruin of the whole city, for there were no regular
troops to have withstood them, nor could the trained bands have been brought together to defend the city, no men being to
be found to bear arms.
But the vigilance of the Lord Mayor and such magistrates as could be had (for some, even of the
aldermen, were dead, and some absent) prevented this; and they did it by the most kind and gentle methods they could think
of, as particularly by relieving the most desperate with money, and putting others into business, and particularly that employment
of watching houses that were infected and shut up. And as the number of these were very great (for it was said there was at
one time ten thousand houses shut up, and every house had two watchmen to guard it, viz., one by night and the other by day),
this gave opportunity to employ a very great number of poor men at a time.
The women and servants that were turned off
from their places were likewise employed as nurses to tend the sick in all places, and this took off a very great number of
And, which though a melancholy article in itself, yet was a deliverance in its kind: namely, the plague, which raged
in a dreadful manner from the middle of August to the middle of October, carried off in that time thirty or forty thousand
of these very people which, had they been left, would certainly have been an insufferable burden by their poverty; that is
to say, the whole city could not have supported the expense of them, or have provided food for them; and they would in time
have been even driven to the necessity of plundering either the city itself or the country adjacent, to have subsisted themselves,
which would first or last have put the whole nation, as well as the city, into the utmost terror and confusion.
observable, then, that this calamity of the people made them very humble; for now for about nine weeks together there died
near a thousand a day, one day with another, even by the account of the weekly bills, which yet, I have reason to be assured,
never gave a full account, by many thousands; the confusion being such, and the carts working in the dark when they carried
the dead, that in some places no account at all was kept, but they worked on, the clerks and sextons not attending for weeks
together, and not knowing what number they carried. This account is verified by the following bills of mortality: -
all of the
From August 8 to August 15 5319 3880
" " 15 " 22 5568 4237
" " 22 " 29 7496 6102
" " 29 to September 5 8252 6988
" September 5 " 12 7690 6544
" " 12 " 19 8297 7165
" " 19 " 26 6460 5533
" 26 to October 3 5720 4979
" October 3 " 10 5068 4327
So that the gross of the
people were carried off in these two months; for, as the whole number which was brought in to die of the plague was but 68,590,
here is 50,000 of them, within a trifle, in two months; I say 50,000, because, as there wants 295 in the number above, so
there wants two days of two months in the account of time.
Now when I say that the parish officers did not give in a full
account, or were not to be depended upon for their account, let any one but consider how men could be exact in such a time
of dreadful distress, and when many of them were taken sick themselves and perhaps died in the very time when their accounts
were to be given in; I mean the parish clerks, besides inferior officers; for though these poor men ventured at all hazards,
yet they were far from being exempt from the common calamity, especially if it be true that the parish of Stepney had, within
the year, 116 sextons, gravediggers, and their assistants; that is to say, bearers, bellmen, and drivers of carts for carrying
off the dead bodies.
Indeed the work was not of a nature to allow them leisure to take an exact tale of the dead bodies,
which were all huddled together in the dark into a pit; which pit or trench no man could come nigh but at the utmost peril.
I observed often that in the parishes of Aldgate and Cripplegate, Whitechappel and Stepney, there were five, six, seven, and
eight hundred in a week in the bills; whereas if we may believe the opinion of those that lived in the city all the time as
well as I, there died sometimes 2000 a week in those parishes; and I saw it under the hand of one that made as strict an examination
into that part as he could, that there really died an hundred thousand people of the plague in that one year whereas in the
bills, the articles of the plague, it was but 68,590.
If I may be allowed to give my opinion, by what I saw with my eyes
and heard from other people that were eye-witnesses, I do verily believe the same, viz., that there died at least 100,000
of the plague only, besides other distempers and besides those which died in the fields and highways and secret Places out
of the compass of the communication, as it was called, and who were not put down in the bills though they really belonged
to the body of the inhabitants. It was known to us all that abundance of poor despairing creatures who had the distemper upon
them, and were grown stupid or melancholy by their misery, as many were, wandered away into the fields and Woods, and into
secret uncouth places almost anywhere, to creep into a bush or hedge and die.
The inhabitants of the villages adjacent
would, in pity, carry them food and set it at a distance, that they might fetch it, if they were able; and sometimes they
were not able, and the next time they went they should find the poor wretches lie dead and the food untouched. The number
of these miserable objects were many, and I know so many that perished thus, and so exactly where, that I believe I could
go to the very place and dig their bones up still; for the country people would go and dig a hole at a distance from them,
and then with long poles, and hooks at the end of them, drag the bodies into these pits, and then throw the earth in from
as far as they could cast it, to cover them, taking notice how the wind blew, and so coming on that side which the seamen
call to windward, that the scent of the bodies might blow from them; and thus great numbers went out of the world who were
never known, or any account of them taken, as well within the bills of mortality as without.
This, indeed, I had in the
main only from the relation of others, for I seldom walked into the fields, except towards Bethnal Green and Hackney, or as
hereafter. But when I did walk, I always saw a great many poor wanderers at a distance; but I could know little of their cases,
for whether it were in the street or in the fields, if we had seen anybody coming, it was a general method to walk away; yet
I believe the account is exactly true.
As this puts me upon mentioning my walking the streets and fields, I cannot omit
taking notice what a desolate place the city was at that time. The great street I lived in (which is known to be one of the
broadest of all the streets of London, I mean of the suburbs as well as the liberties) all the side where the butchers lived,
especially without the bars, was more like a green field than a paved street, and the people generally went in the middle
with the horses and carts. It is true that the farthest end towards Whitechappel Church was not all paved, but even the part
that was paved was full of grass also; but this need not seem strange, since the great streets within the city, such as Leadenhall
Street, Bishopsgate Street, Cornhill, and even the Exchange itself, had grass growing in them in several places; neither cart
or coach were seen in the streets from morning to evening, except some country carts to bring roots and beans, or peas, hay,
and straw, to the market, and those but very few compared to what was usual. As for coaches, they were scarce used but to
carry sick people to the pest-house, and to other hospitals, and some few to carry physicians to such places as they thought
fit to venture to visit; for really coaches were dangerous things, and people did not care to venture into them, because they
did not know who might have been carried in them last, and sick, infected people were, as I have said, ordinarily carried
in them to the pest-houses, and sometimes people expired in them as they went along.
It is true, when the infection came
to such a height as I have now mentioned, there were very few physicians which cared to stir abroad to sick houses, and very
many of the most eminent of the faculty were dead, as well as the surgeons also; for now it was indeed a dismal time, and
for about a month together, not taking any notice of the bills of mortality, I believe there did not die less than 1500 or
1700 a day, one day with another.
One of the worst days we had in the whole time, as I thought, was in the beginning of
September, when, indeed, good people began to think that God was resolved to make a full end of the people in this miserable
city. This was at that time when the plague was fully come into the eastern parishes. The parish of Aldgate, if I may give
my opinion, buried above a thousand a week for two weeks, though the bills did not say so many; - but it surrounded me at
so dismal a rate that there was not a house in twenty uninfected in the Minories, in Houndsditch, and in those parts of Aldgate
parish about the Butcher Row and the alleys over against me. I say, in those places death reigned in every corner. Whitechappel
parish was in the same condition, and though much less than the parish I lived in, yet buried near 600 a week by the bills,
and in my opinion near twice as many. Whole families, and indeed whole streets of families, were swept away together; insomuch
that it was frequent for neighbours to call to the bellman to go to such-and-such houses and fetch out the people, for that
they were all dead.
And, indeed, the work of removing the dead bodies by carts was now grown so very odious and dangerous
that it was complained of that the bearers did not take care to dear such houses where all the inhabitants were dead, but
that sometimes the bodies lay several days unburied, till the neighbouring families were offended with the stench, and consequently
infected; and this neglect of the officers was such that the churchwardens and constables were summoned to look after it,
and even the justices of the Hamlets were obliged to venture their lives among them to quicken and encourage them, for innumerable
of the bearers died of the distemper, infected by the bodies they were obliged to come so near. And had it not been that the
number of poor people who wanted employment and wanted bread (as I have said before) was so great that necessity drove them
to undertake anything and venture anything, they would never have found people to be employed. And then the bodies of the
dead would have lain above ground, and have perished and rotted in a dreadful manner.
But the magistrates cannot be enough
commended in this, that they kept such good order for the burying of the dead, that as fast as any of these they employed
to carry off and bury the dead fell sick or died, as was many times the case, they immediately supplied the places with others,
which, by reason of the great number of poor that was left out of business, as above, was not hard to do. This occasioned,
that notwithstanding the infinite number of people which died and were sick, almost all together, yet they were always cleared
away and carried off every night, so that it was never to be said of London that the living were not able to bury the dead.
As the desolation was greater during those terrible times, so the amazement of the people increased, and a thousand unaccountable
things they would do in the violence of their fright, as others did the same in the agonies of their distemper, and this part
was very affecting. Some went roaring and crying and wringing their hands along the street; some would go praying and lifting
up their hands to heaven, calling upon God for mercy. I cannot say, indeed, whether this was not in their distraction, but,
be it so, it was still an indication of a more serious mind, when they had the use of their senses, and was much better, even
as it was, than the frightful yellings and cryings that every day, and especially in the evenings, were heard in some streets.
I suppose the world has heard of the famous Solomon Eagle, an enthusiast. He, though not infected at all but in his head,
went about denouncing of judgement upon the city in a frightful manner, sometimes quite naked, and with a pan of burning charcoal
on his head. What he said, or pretended, indeed I could not learn.
I will not say whether that clergyman was distracted
or not, or whether he did it in pure zeal for the poor people, who went every evening through the streets of Whitechappel,
and, with his hands lifted up, repeated that part of the Liturgy of the Church continually, "Spare us, good Lord; spare Thy
people, whom Thou has redeemed with Thy most precious blood." I say, I cannot speak positively of these things, because these
were only the dismal objects which represented themselves to me as I looked through my chamber windows (for I seldom opened
the casements), while I confined myself within doors during that most violent raging of the pestilence; when, indeed, as I
have said, many began to think, and even to say, that there would none escape; and indeed I began to think so too, and therefore
kept within doors for about a fortnight and never stirred out. But I could not hold it. Besides, there were some people who,
notwithstanding the danger, did not omit publicly to attend the worship of God, even in the most dangerous times; and though
it is true that a great many clergymen did shut up their churches, and fled, as other people did, for the safety of their
lives, yet all did not do so. Some ventured to officiate and to keep up the assemblies of the people by constant prayers,
and sometimes sermons or brief exhortations to repentance and reformation, and this as long as any would come to hear them.
And Dissenters did the like also, and even in the very churches where the parish ministers were either dead or fled; nor was
there any room for making difference at such a time as this was.
It was indeed a lamentable thing to hear the miserable
lamentations of poor dying creatures calling out for ministers to comfort them and pray with them, to counsel them and to
direct them, calling out to God for pardon and mercy, and confessing aloud their past sins. It would make the stoutest heart
bleed to hear how many warnings were then given by dying penitents to others not to put off and delay their repentance to
the day of distress; that such a time of calamity as this was no time for repentance, was no time to call upon God. I wish
I could repeat the very sound of those groans and of those exclamations that I heard from some poor dying creatures when in
the height of their agonies and distress, and that I could make him that reads this hear, as I imagine I now hear them, for
the sound seems still to ring in my ears.
If I could but tell this part in such moving accents as should alarm the very
soul of the reader, I should rejoice that I recorded those things, however short and imperfect.
It pleased God that I
was still spared, and very hearty and sound in health, but very impatient of being pent up within doors without air, as I
had been for fourteen days or thereabouts; and I could not restrain myself, but I would go to carry a letter for my brother
to the post- house. Then it was indeed that I observed a profound silence in the streets. When I came to the post-house, as
I went to put in my letter I saw a man stand in one corner of the yard and talking to another at a window, and a third had
opened a door belonging to the office. In the middle of the yard lay a small leather purse with two keys hanging at it, with
money in it, but nobody would meddle with it. I asked how long it had lain there; the man at the window said it had lain almost
an hour, but that they had not meddled with it, because they did not know but the person who dropped it might come back to
look for it. I had no such need of money, nor was the sum so big that I had any inclination to meddle with it, or to get the
money at the hazard it might be attended with; so I seemed to go away, when the man who had opened the door said he would
take it up, but so that if the right owner came for it he should be sure to have it. So he went in and fetched a pail of water
and set it down hard by the purse, then went again and fetch some gunpowder, and cast a good deal of powder upon the purse,
and then made a train from that which he had thrown loose upon the purse. The train reached about two yards. After this he
goes in a third time and fetches out a pair of tongs red hot, and which he had prepared, I suppose, on purpose; and first
setting fire to the train of powder, that singed the purse and also smoked the air sufficiently. But he was not content with
that, but he then takes up the purse with the tongs, holding it so long till the tongs burnt through the purse, and then he
shook the money out into the pail of water, so he carried it in. The money, as I remember, was about thirteen shilling and
some smooth groats and brass farthings.
There might perhaps have been several poor people, as I have observed above, that
would have been hardy enough to have ventured for the sake of the money; but you may easily see by what I have observed that
the few people who were spared were very careful of themselves at that time when the distress was so exceeding great.
about the same time I walked out into the fields towards Bow; for I had a great mind to see how things were managed in the
river and among the ships; and as I had some concern in shipping, I had a notion that it had been one of the best ways of
securing one's self from the infection to have retired into a ship; and musing how to satisfy my curiosity in that point,
I turned away over the fields from Bow to Bromley, and down to Blackwall to the stairs which are there for landing or taking
Here I saw a poor man walking on the bank, or sea-wall, as they call it, by himself. I walked a while also about,
seeing the houses all shut up. At last I fell into some talk, at a distance, with this poor man; first I asked him how people
did thereabouts. "Alas, sir!" says he, "almost desolate; all dead or sick. Here are very few families in this part, or in
that village" (pointing at Poplar), "where half of them are not dead already, and the rest sick." Then he pointing to one
house, "There they are all dead", said he, "and the house stands open; nobody dares go into it. A poor thief", says he, "ventured
in to steal something, but he paid dear for his theft, for he was carried to the churchyard too last night." Then he pointed
to several other houses. "There", says he. "they are all dead, the man and his wife, and five children. There", says he, "they
are shut up; you see a watchman at the door"; and so of other houses. "Why," says I, "what do you here all alone?" "Why,"
says he, "I am a poor, desolate man; it has pleased God I am not yet visited, though my family is, and one of my children
dead." "How do you mean, then," said I, "that you are not visited?" "Why," says he, "that's my house" (pointing to a very
little, low-boarded house), "and there my poor wife and two children live," said he, "if they may be said to live, for my
wife and one of the children are visited, but I do not come at them." And with that word I saw the tears run very plentifully
down his face; and so they did down mine too, I assure you.
"But," said I, "why do you not come at them? How can you abandon
your own flesh and blood?" "Oh, sir," says he, "the Lord forbid! I do not abandon them; I work for them as much as I am able;
and, blessed be the Lord, I keep them from want"; and with that I observed he lifted up his eyes to heaven, with a countenance
that presently told me I had happened on a man that was no hypocrite, but a serious, religious, good man, and his ejaculation
was an expression of thankfulness that, in such a condition as he was in, he should be able to say his family did not want.
"Well," says I, "honest man, that is a great mercy as things go now with the poor. But how do you live, then, and how are
you kept from the dreadful calamity that is now upon us all?" "Why, sir," says he, "I am a waterman, and there's my boat,"
says he, "and the boat serves me for a house. I work in it in the day, and I sleep in it in the night; and what I get I lay
down upon that stone," says he, showing me a broad stone on the other side of the street, a good way from his house; "and
then," says he, "I halloo, and call to them till I make them hear; and they come and fetch it."
"Well, friend," says I,
"but how can you get any money as a waterman? Does an body go by water these times?" "Yes, sir," says he, "in the way I am
employed there does. Do you see there," says he, "five ships lie at anchor" (pointing down the river a good way below the
town), "and do you see", says he, "eight or ten ships lie at the chain there, and at anchor yonder?" pointing above the town).
"All those ships have families on board, of their merchants and owners, and such-like, who have locked themselves up and live
on board, close shut in, for fear of the infection; and I tend on them to fetch things for them, carry letters, and do what
is absolutely necessary, that they may not be obliged to come on shore; and every night I fasten my boat on board one of the
ship's boats, and there I sleep by myself, and, blessed be God, I am preserved hitherto."
"Well," said I, "friend, but
will they let you come on board after you have been on shore here, when this is such a terrible place, and so infected as
"Why, as to that," said he, "I very seldom go up the ship-side, but deliver what I bring to their boat, or lie
by the side, and they hoist it on board. If I did, I think they are in no danger from me, for I never go into any house on
shore, or touch anybody, no, not of my own family; but I fetch provisions for them."
"Nay," says I, "but that may be worse,
for you must have those provisions of somebody or other; and since all this part of the town is so infected, it is dangerous
so much as to speak with anybody, for the village", said I, "is, as it were, the beginning of London, though it be at some
distance from it."
"That is true," added he; "but you do not understand me right; I do not buy provisions for them here.
I row up to Greenwich and buy fresh meat there, and sometimes I row down the river to Woolwich and buy there; then I go to
single farm-houses on the Kentish side, where I am known, and buy fowls and eggs and butter, and bring to the ships, as they
direct me, sometimes one, sometimes the other. I seldom come on shore here, and I came now only to call on my wife and hear
how my family do, and give them a little money, which I received last night."
"Poor man!" said I; "and how much hast thou
gotten for them?"
"I have gotten four shillings," said he, "which is a great sum, as things go now with poor men; but
they have given me a bag of bread too, and a salt fish and some flesh; so all helps out." "Well," said I, "and have you given
it them yet?"
"No," said he; "but I have called, and my wife has answered that she cannot come out yet, but in half-an-hour
she hopes to come, and I am waiting for her. Poor woman!" says he, "she is brought sadly down. She has a swelling, and it
is broke, and I hope she will recover; but I fear the child will die, but it is the Lord -" Here he stopped, and wept very
"Well, honest friend," said I, "thou hast a sure Comforter, if thou hast brought thyself to be resigned to the will
of God; He is dealing with us all in judgement."
"Oh, sir!" says he, "it is infinite mercy if any of us are spared, and
who am I to repine!"
"Sayest thou so?" said I, "and how much less is my faith than thine?" And here my heart smote me,
suggesting how much better this poor man's foundation was on which he stayed in the danger than mine; that he had nowhere
to fly; that he had a family to bind him to attendance, which I had not; and mine was mere presumption, his a true dependence
and a courage resting on God; and yet that he used all possible caution for his safety.
I turned a little way from the
man while these thoughts engaged me, for, indeed, I could no more refrain from tears than he.
At length, after some further
talk, the poor woman opened the door and called, "Robert, Robert". He answered, and bid her stay a few moments and he would
come; so he ran down the common stairs to his boat and fetched up a sack, in which was the provisions he had brought from
the ships; and when he returned he hallooed again. Then he went to the great stone which he showed me and emptied the sack,
and laid all out, everything by themselves, and then retired; and his wife came with a little boy to fetch them away, and
called and said such a captain had sent such a thing, and such a captain such a thing, and at the end adds, "God has sent
it all; give thanks to Him." When the poor woman had taken up all, she was so weak she could not carry it at once in, though
the weight was not much neither; so she left the biscuit, which was in a little bag, and left a little boy to watch it till
she came again.
"Well, but", says I to him, "did you leave her the four shillings too, which you said was your week's
"Yes, yes," says he; "you shall hear her own it." So he calls again, "Rachel, Rachel," which it seems was her name,
"did you take up the money?" "Yes," said she. "How much was it?" said he. "Four shillings and a groat," said she. "Well, well,"
says he, "the Lord keep you all"; and so he turned to go away.
As I could not refrain contributing tears to this man's
story, so neither could I refrain my charity for his assistance. So I called him, "Hark thee, friend," said I, "come hither,
for I believe thou art in health, that I may venture thee"; so I pulled out my hand, which was in my pocket before, "Here,"
says I, "go and call thy Rachel once more, and give her a little more comfort from me. God will never forsake a family that
trust in Him as thou dost." So I gave him four other shillings, and bid him go lay them on the stone and call his wife.
have not words to express the poor man's thankfulness, neither could he express it himself but by tears running down his face.
He called his wife, and told her God had moved the heart of a stranger, upon hearing their condition, to give them all that
money, and a great deal more such as that he said to her. The woman, too, made signs of the like thankfulness, as well to
Heaven as to me, and joyfully picked it up; and I parted with no money all that year that I thought better bestowed.
then asked the poor man if the distemper had not reached to Greenwich. He said it had not till about a fortnight before; but
that then he feared it had, but that it was only at that end of the town which lay south towards Deptford Bridge; that he
went only to a butcher's shop and a grocer's, where he generally bought such things as they sent him for, but was very careful.
I asked him then how it came to pass that those people who had so shut themselves up in the ships had not laid in sufficient
stores of all things necessary. He said some of them had - but, on the other hand, some did not come on board till they were
frighted into it and till it was too dangerous for them to go to the proper people to lay in quantities of things, and that
he waited on two ships, which he showed me, that had laid in little or nothing but biscuit bread and ship beer, and that he
had bought everything else almost for them. I asked him if there was any more ships that had separated themselves as those
had done. He told me yes, all the way up from the point, right against Greenwich, to within the shore of Limehouse and Redriff,
all the ships that could have room rid two and two in the middle of the stream, and that some of them had several families
on board. I asked him if the distemper had not reached them. He said he believed it had not, except two or three ships whose
people had not been so watchful to keep the seamen from going on shore as others had been, and he said it was a very fine
sight to see how the ships lay up the Pool.
When he said he was going over to Greenwich as soon as the tide began to come
in, I asked if he would let me go with him and bring me back, for that I had a great mind to see how the ships were ranged,
as he had told me. He told me, if I would assure him on the word of a Christian and of an honest man that I had not the distemper,
he would. I assured him that I had not; that it had pleased God to preserve me; that I lived in Whitechappel, but was too
impatient of being so long within doors, and that I had ventured out so far for the refreshment of a little air, but that
none in my house had so much as been touched with it.
"Well, sir," says he, "as your charity has been moved to pity me
and my poor family, sure you cannot have so little pity left as to put yourself into my boat if you were not sound in health
which would be nothing less than killing me and ruining my whole family." The poor man troubled me so much when he spoke of
his family with such a sensible concern and in such an affectionate manner, that I could not satisfy myself at first to go
at all. I told him I would lay aside my curiosity rather than make him uneasy, though I was sure, and very thankful for it,
that I had no more distemper upon me than the freshest man in the world. Well, he would not have me put it off neither, but
to let me see how confident he was that I was just to him, now importuned me to go; so when the tide came up to his boat I
went in, and he carried me to Greenwich. While he bought the things which he had in his charge to buy, I walked up to the
top of the hill under which the town stands, and on the east side of the town, to get a prospect of the river. But it was
a surprising sight to see the number of ships which lay in rows, two and two, and some places two or three such lines in the
breadth of the river, and this not only up quite to the town, between the houses which we call Ratcliff and Redriff, which
they name the Pool, but even down the whole river as far as the head of Long Reach, which is as far as the hills give us leave
to see it.
I cannot guess at the number of ships, but I think there must be several hundreds of sail; and I could not
but applaud the contrivance: for ten thousand people and more who attended ship affairs were certainly sheltered here from
the violence of the contagion, and lived very safe and very easy.
Chapter - 6
I returned to my own dwelling very well
satisfied with my day's journey, and particularly with the poor man; also I rejoiced to see that such little sanctuaries were
provided for so many families in a time of such desolation. I observed also that, as the violence of the plague had increased,
so the ships which had families on board removed and went farther off, till, as I was told, some went quite away to sea, and
put into such harbours and safe roads on the north coast as they could best come at.
But it was also true that all the
people who thus left the land and lived on board the ships were not entirely safe from the infection, for many died and were
thrown overboard into the river, some in coffins, and some, as I heard, without coffins, whose bodies were seen sometimes
to drive up and down with the tide in the river.
But I believe I may venture to say that in those ships which were thus
infected it either happened where the people had recourse to them too late, and did not fly to the ship till they had stayed
too long on shore and had the distemper upon them (though perhaps they might not perceive it) and so the distemper did not
come to them on board the ships, but they really carried it with them; or it was in these ships where the poor waterman said
they had not had time to furnish themselves with provisions, but were obliged to send often on shore to buy what they had
occasion for, or suffered boats to come to them from the shore. And so the distemper was brought insensibly among them.
here I cannot but take notice that the strange temper of the people of London at that time contributed extremely to their
own destruction. The plague began, as I have observed, at the other end of the town, namely, in Long Acre, Drury Lane, &c.,
and came on towards the city very gradually and slowly. It was felt at first in December, then again in February, then again
in April, and always but a very little at a time; then it stopped till May, and even the last week in May there was but seventeen,
and all at that end of the town; and all this while, even so long as till there died above 3000 a week, yet had the people
in Redriff, and in Wapping and Ratcliff, on both sides of the river, and almost all Southwark side, a mighty fancy that they
should not be visited, or at least that it would not be so violent among them. Some people fancied the smell of the pitch
and tar, and such other things as oil and rosin and brimstone, which is so much used by all trades relating to shipping, would
preserve them. Others argued it, because it was in its extremist violence in Westminster and the parish of St Giles and St
Andrew, &c., and began to abate again before it came among them - which was true indeed, in part. For example -
the 8th to the 15th August -
St Giles-in-the-Fields 242
St Margaret, Bermondsey
Total this week 4030
From the 15th to the 22nd August -
St Giles-in-the-Fields 175
St Margaret, Bermondsey 36
Total this week 5319
N.B. - That it was observed
the numbers mentioned in Stepney parish at that time were generally all on that side where Stepney parish joined to Shoreditch,
which we now call Spittlefields, where the parish of Stepney comes up to the very wall of Shoreditch Churchyard, and the plague
at this time was abated at St Giles-in-the- Fields, and raged most violently in Cripplegate, Bishopsgate, and Shoreditch parishes;
but there was not ten people a week that died of it in all that part of Stepney parish which takes in Limehouse, Ratdiff Highway,
and which are now the parishes of Shadwell and Wapping, even to St Katherine's by the Tower, till after the whole month of
August was expired. But they paid for it afterwards, as I shall observe by-and-by.
This, I say, made the people of Redriff
and Wapping, Ratcliff and Limehouse, so secure, and flatter themselves so much with the plague's going off without reaching
them, that they took no care either to fly into the country or shut themselves up. Nay, so far were they from stirring that
they rather received their friends and relations from the city into their houses, and several from other places really took
sanctuary in that part of the town as a Place of safety, and as a place which they thought God would pass over, and not visit
as the rest was visited.
And this was the reason that when it came upon -them they were more surprised, more unprovided,
and more at a loss what to do than they were in other places; for when it came among them really and with violence, as it
did indeed in September and October, there was then no stirring out into the country, nobody would suffer a stranger to come
near them, no, nor near the towns where they dwelt; and, as I have been told, several that wandered into the country on Surrey
side were found starved to death in the woods and commons, that country being more open and more woody than any other part
so near London, especially about Norwood and the parishes of Camberwell, Dullege, and Lusum, where, it seems, nobody durst
relieve the poor distressed people for fear of the infection.
This notion having, as I said, prevailed with the people
in that part of the town, was in part the occasion, as I said before, that they had recourse to ships for their retreat; and
where they did this early and with prudence, furnishing themselves so with provisions that they had no need to go on shore
for supplies or suffer boats to come on board to bring them, - I say, where they did so they had certainly the safest retreat
of any people whatsoever; but the distress was such that people ran on board, in their fright, without bread to eat, and some
into ships that had no men on board to remove them farther off, or to take the boat and go down the river to buy provisions
where it might be done safely, and these often suffered and were infected on board as much as on shore.
As the richer
sort got into ships, so the lower rank got into hoys, smacks, lighters, and fishing-boats; and many, especially watermen,
lay in their boats; but those made sad work of it, especially the latter, for, going about for provision, and perhaps to get
their subsistence, the infection got in among them and made a fearful havoc; many of the watermen died alone in their wherries
as they rid at their roads, as well as above bridge as below, and were not found sometimes till they were not in condition
for anybody to touch or come near them.
Indeed, the distress of the people at this seafaring end of the town was very
deplorable, and deserved the greatest commiseration. But, alas I this was a time when every one's private safety lay so near
them that they had no room to pity the distresses of others; for every one had death, as it were, at his door, and many even
in their families, and knew not what to do or whither to fly.
This, I say, took away all compassion; self-preservation,
indeed, appeared here to be the first law. For the children ran away from their parents as they languished in the utmost distress.
And in some places, though not so frequent as the other, parents did the like to their children; nay, some dreadful examples
there were, and particularly two in one week, of distressed mothers, raving and distracted, killing their own children; one
whereof was not far off from where I dwelt, the poor lunatic creature not living herself long enough to be sensible of the
sin of what she had done, much less to be punished for it.
It is not, indeed, to be wondered at: for the danger of immediate
death to ourselves took away all bowels of love, all concern for one another. I speak in general, for there were many instances
of immovable affection, pity, and duty in many, and some that came to my knowledge, that is to say, by hearsay; for I shall
not take upon me to vouch the truth of the particulars.
To introduce one, let me first mention that one of the most deplorable
cases in all the present calamity was that of women with child, who, when they came to the hour of their sorrows, and their
pains come upon them, could neither have help of one kind or another; neither midwife or neighbouring women to come near them.
Most of the midwives were dead, especially of such as served the poor; and many, if not all the midwives of note, were fled
into the country; so that it was next to impossible for a poor woman that could not pay an immoderate price to get any midwife
to come to her - and if they did, those they could get were generally unskilful and ignorant creatures; and the consequence
of this was that a most unusual and incredible number of women were reduced to the utmost distress. Some were delivered and
spoiled by the rashness and ignorance of those who pretended to lay them. Children without number were, I might say, murdered
by the same but a more justifiable ignorance: pretending they would save the mother, whatever became of the child; and many
times both mother and child were lost in the same manner; and especially where the mother had the distemper, there nobody
would come near them and both sometimes perished. Sometimes the mother has died of the plague, and the infant, it may be,
half born, or born but not parted from the mother. Some died in the very pains of their travail, and not delivered at all;
and so many were the cases of this kind that it is hard to judge of them.
Something of it will appear in the unusual numbers
which are put into the weekly bills (though I am far from allowing them to be able to give anything of a full account) under
the articles of - Child-bed. Abortive and Still-born. Christmas and Infants.
Take the weeks in which the plague was most
violent, and compare them with the weeks before the distemper began, even in the same year. For example: -
From January 3 to January 10 7 1 13
" " 10 " 17 8 6 11
" " 17 " 24 9 5 15
" " 24 " 31
3 2 9
" " 31 to February 7 3 3 8
" February7 " 14 6 2 11
" " 14 " 21 5 2 13
" " 21 " 28 2 2 10
" " 28
to March 7 5 1 10
--- --- ----
48 24 100
From August 1 to August 8 25 5 11
" " 8 " 15 23 6 8
" " 15
" 22 28 4 4
" " 22 " 29 40 6 10
" " 29 to September 5 38 2 11
September 5 " 12 39 23 ...
" " 12 " 19 42 5
" " 19 " 26 42 6 10
" " 26 to October 3 14 4 9
--- -- ---
291 61 80
To the disparity of these numbers
it is to be considered and allowed for, that according to our usual opinion who were then upon the spot, there were not one-third
of the people in the town during the months of August and September as were in the months of January and February. In a word,
the usual number that used to die of these three articles, and, as I hear, did die of them the year before, was thus: -
Child-bed 189 Child-bed 625
Abortive and still-born 458 Abortive and still-born 617
This inequality, I say, is exceedingly augmented when the numbers of people are considered. I pretend not to make any
exact calculation of the numbers of people which were at this time in the city, but I shall make a probable conjecture at
that part by-and-by. What I have said now is to explain the misery of those poor creatures above; so that it might well be
said, as in the Scripture, Woe be to those who are with child, and to those which give suck in that day. For, indeed, it was
a woe to them in particular.
I was not conversant in many particular families where these things happened, but the outcries
of the miserable were heard afar off. As to those who were with child, we have seen some calculation made; 291 women dead
in child-bed in nine weeks, out of one-third part of the number of whom there usually died in that time but eighty-four of
the same disaster. Let the reader calculate the proportion.
There is no room to doubt but the misery of those that gave
suck was in proportion as great. Our bills of mortality could give but little light in this, yet some it did. There were several
more than usual starved at nurse, but this was nothing. The misery was where they were, first, starved for want of a nurse,
the mother dying and all the family and the infants found dead by them, merely for want; and, if I may speak my opinion, I
do believe that many hundreds of poor helpless infants perished in this manner. Secondly, not starved, but poisoned by the
nurse. Nay, even where the mother has been nurse, and having received the infection, has poisoned, that is, infected the infant
with her milk even before they knew they were infected themselves; nay, and the infant has died in such a case before the
mother. I cannot but remember to leave this admonition upon record, if ever such another dreadful visitation should happen
in this city, that all women that are with child or that give suck should be gone, if they have any possible means, out of
the place, because their misery, if infected, will so much exceed all other people's.
I could tell here dismal stories
of living infants being found sucking the breasts of their mothers, or nurses, after they have been dead of the plague. Of
a mother in the parish where I lived, who, having a child that was not well, sent for an apothecary to view the child; and
when he came, as the relation goes, was giving the child suck at her breast, and to all appearance was herself very well;
but when the apothecary came close to her he saw the tokens upon that breast with which she was suckling the child. He was
surprised enough, to be sure, but, not willing to fright the poor woman too much, he desired she would give the child into
his hand; so he takes the child, and going to a cradle in the room, lays it in, and opening its cloths, found the tokens upon
the child too, and both died before he could get home to send a preventive medicine to the father of the child, to whom he
had told their condition. Whether the child infected the nurse-mother or the mother the child was not certain, but the last
most likely. Likewise of a child brought home to the parents from a nurse that had died of the plague, yet the tender mother
would not refuse to take in her child, and laid it in her bosom, by which she was infected; and died with the child in her
arms dead also.
It would make the hardest heart move at the instances that were frequently found of tender mothers tending
and watching with their dear children, and even dying before them, and sometimes taking the distemper from them and dying,
when the child for whom the affectionate heart had been sacrificed has got over it and escaped.
The like of a tradesman
in East Smithfield, whose wife was big with child of her first child, and fell in labour, having the plague upon her. He could
neither get midwife to assist her or nurse to tend her, and two servants which he kept fled both from her. He ran from house
to house like one distracted, but could get no help; the utmost he could get was, that a watchman, who attended at an infected
house shut up, promised to send a nurse in the morning. The poor man, with his heart broke, went back, assisted his wife what
he could, acted the part of the midwife, brought the child dead into the world, and his wife in about an hour died in his
arms, where he held her dead body fast till the morning, when the watchman came and brought the nurse as he had promised;
and coming up the stairs (for he had left the door open, or only latched), they found the man sitting with his dead wife in
his arms, and so overwhelmed with grief that he died in a few hours after without any sign of the infection upon him, but
merely sunk under the weight of his grief.
I have heard also of some who, on the death of their relations, have grown
stupid with the insupportable sorrow; and of one, in particular, who was so absolutely overcome with the pressure upon his
spirits that by degrees his head sank into his body, so between his shoulders that the crown of his head was very little seen
above the bone of his shoulders; and by degrees losing both voice and sense, his face, looking forward, lay against his collarbone
and could not be kept up any otherwise, unless held up by the hands of other people; and the poor man never came to himself
again, but languished near a year in that condition, and died. Nor was he ever once seen to lift up his eyes or to look upon
any particular object.
I cannot undertake to give any other than a summary of such passages as these, because it was not
possible to come at the particulars, where sometimes the whole families where such things happened were carried off by the
distemper. But there were innumerable cases of this kind which presented to the eye and the ear, even in passing along the
streets, as I have hinted above. Nor is it easy to give any story of this or that family which there was not divers parallel
stories to be met with of the same kind.
But as I am now talking of the time when the plague raged at the easternmost
part of the town - how for a long time the people of those parts had flattered themselves that they should escape, and how
they were surprised when it came upon them as it did; for, indeed, it came upon them like an armed man when it did come; -
I say, this brings me back to the three poor men who wandered from Wapping, not knowing whither to go or what to do, and whom
I mentioned before; one a biscuit-baker, one a sailmaker, and the other a joiner, all of Wapping, or there-abouts.
sleepiness and security of that part, as I have observed, was such that they not only did not shift for themselves as others
did, but they boasted of being safe, and of safety being with them; and many people fled out of the city, and out of the infected
suburbs, to Wapping, Ratcliff, Limehouse, Poplar, and such Places, as to Places of security; and it is not at all unlikely
that their doing this helped to bring the plague that way faster than it might otherwise have come. For though I am much for
people flying away and emptying such a town as this upon the first appearance of a like visitation, and that all people who
have any possible retreat should make use of it in time and be gone, yet I must say, when all that will fly are gone, those
that are left and must stand it should stand stock-still where they are, and not shift from one end of the town or one part
of the town to the other; for that is the bane and mischief of the whole, and they carry the plague from house to house in
their very clothes.
Wherefore were we ordered to kill all the dogs and cats, but because as they were domestic animals,
and are apt to run from house to house and from street to street, so they are capable of carrying the effluvia or infectious
streams of bodies infected even in their furs and hair? And therefore it was that, in the beginning of the infection, an order
was published by the Lord Mayor, and by the magistrates, according to the advice of the physicians, that all the dogs and
cats should be immediately killed, and an officer was appointed for the execution.
It is incredible, if their account
is to be depended upon, what a prodigious number of those creatures were destroyed. I think they talked of forty thousand
dogs, and five times as many cats; few houses being without a cat, some having several, sometimes five or six in a house.
All possible endeavours were used also to destroy the mice and rats, especially the latter, by laying ratsbane and other poisons
for them, and a prodigious multitude of them were also destroyed.
I often reflected upon the unprovided condition that
the whole body of the people were in at the first coming of this calamity upon them, and how it was for want of timely entering
into measures and managements, as well public as private, that all the confusions that followed were brought upon us, and
that such a prodigious number of people sank in that disaster, which, if proper steps had been taken, might, Providence concurring,
have been avoided, and which, if posterity think fit, they may take a caution and warning from. But I shall come to this part
I come back to my three men. Their story has a moral in every part of it, and their whole conduct, and that of
some whom they joined with, is a pattern for all poor men to follow, or women either, if ever such a time comes again; and
if there was no other end in recording it, I think this a very just one, whether my account be exactly according to fact or
Two of them are said to be brothers, the one an old soldier, but now a biscuit-maker; the other a lame sailor, but
now a sailmaker; the third a joiner. Says John the biscuit-maker one day to Thomas his brother, the sailmaker, "Brother Tom,
what will become of us? The plague grows hot in the city, and increases this way. What shall we do?"
"Truly," says Thomas,
"I am at a great loss what to do, for I find if it comes down into Wapping I shall be turned out of my lodging." And thus
they began to talk of it beforehand.
John. Turned out of your lodging, Tom I If you are, I don't know who will take you
in; for people are so afraid of one another now, there's no getting a lodging anywhere.
Thomas. Why, the people where
I lodge are good, civil people, and have kindness enough for me too; but they say I go abroad every day to my work, and it
will be dangerous; and they talk of locking themselves up and letting nobody come near them.
John. Why, they are in the
right, to be sure, if they resolve to venture staying in town.
Thomas. Nay, I might even resolve to stay within doors
too, for, except a suit of sails that my master has in hand, and which I am just finishing, I am like to get no more work
a great while. There's no trade stirs now. Workmen and servants are turned off everywhere, so that I might be glad to be locked
up too; but I do not see they will be willing to consent to that, any more than to the other.
John. Why, what will you
do then, brother? And what shall I do? for I am almost as bad as you. The people where I lodge are all gone into the country
but a maid, and she is to go next week, and to shut the house quite up, so that I shall be turned adrift to the wide world
before you, and I am resolved to go away too, if I knew but where to go.
Thomas. We were both distracted we did not go
away at first; then we might have travelled anywhere. There's no stirring now; we shall be starved if we pretend to go out
of town. They won't let us have victuals, no, not for our money, nor let us come into the towns, much less into their houses.
John. And that which is almost as bad, I have but little money to help myself with neither.
Thomas. As to that, we
might make shift, I have a little, though not much; but I tell you there's no stirring on the road. I know a couple of poor
honest men in our street have attempted to travel, and at Barnet, or Whetstone, or thereabouts, the people offered to fire
at them if they pretended to go forward, so they are come back again quite discouraged.
John. I would have ventured their
fire if I had been there. If I had been denied food for my money they should have seen me take it before their faces, and
if I had tendered money for it they could not have taken any course with me by law.
Thomas. You talk your old soldier's
language, as if you were in the Low Countries now, but this is a serious thing. The people have good reason to keep anybody
off that they are not satisfied are sound, at such a time as this, and we must not plunder them.
John. No, brother, you
mistake the case, and mistake me too. I would plunder nobody; but for any town upon the road to deny me leave to pass through
the town in the open highway, and deny me provisions for my money, is to say the town has a right to starve me to death, which
cannot be true.
Thomas. But they do not deny you liberty to go back again from whence you came, and therefore they do
not starve you.
John. But the next town behind me will, by the same rule, deny me leave to go back, and so they do starve
me between them. Besides, there is no law to prohibit my travelling wherever I will on the road.
Thomas. But there will
be so much difficulty in disputing with them at every town on the road that it is not for poor men to do it or undertake it,
at such a time as this is especially.
John. Why, brother, our condition at this rate is worse than anybody else's, for
we can neither go away nor stay here. I am of the same mind with the lepers of Samaria: "If we stay here we are sure to die",
I mean especially as you and I are stated, without a dwelling-house of our own, and without lodging in anybody else's. There
is no lying in the street at such a time as this; we had as good go into the dead-cart at once. Therefore I say, if we stay
here we are sure to die, and if we go away we can but die; I am resolved to be gone.
Thomas. You will go away. Whither
will you go, and what can you do? I would as willingly go away as you, if I knew whither. But we have no acquaintance, no
friends. Here we were born, and here we must die.
John. Look you, Tom, the whole kingdom is my native country as well
as this town. You may as well say I must not go out of my house if it is on fire as that I must not go out of the town I was
born in when it is infected with the plague. I was born in England, and have a right to live in it if I can.
you know every vagrant person may by the laws of England be taken up, and passed back to their last legal settlement.
But how shall they make me vagrant? I desire only to travel on, upon my lawful occasions.
Thomas. What lawful occasions
can we pretend to travel, or rather wander upon? They will not be put off with words.
John. Is not flying to save our
lives a lawful occasion? And do they not all know that the fact is true? We cannot be said to dissemble.
Thomas. But suppose
they let us pass, whither shall we go?
John. Anywhere, to save our lives; it is time enough to consider that when we are
got out of this town. If I am once out of this dreadful place, I care not where I go.
Thomas. We shall be driven to great
extremities. I know not what to think of it.
John. Well, Tom, consider of it a little.
This was about the beginning
of July; and though the plague was come forward in the west and north parts of the town, yet all Wapping, as I have observed
before, and Redriff, and Ratdiff, and Limehouse, and Poplar, in short, Deptford and Greenwich, all both sides of the river
from the Hermitage, and from over against it, quite down to Blackwall, was entirely free; there had not one person died of
the plague in all Stepney parish, and not one on the south side of Whitechappel Road, no, not in any parish; and yet the weekly
bill was that very week risen up to 1006.
It was a fortnight after this before the two brothers met again, and then the
case was a little altered, and the' plague was exceedingly advanced and the number greatly increased; the bill was up at 2785,
and prodigiously increasing, though still both sides of the river, as below, kept pretty well. But some began to die in Redriff,
and about five or six in Ratdiff Highway, when the sailmaker came to his brother John express, and in some fright; for he
was absolutely warned out of his lodging, and had only a week to provide himself. His brother John was in as bad a case, for
he was quite out, and had only begged leave of his master, the biscuit-maker, to lodge in an outhouse belonging to his workhouse,
where he only lay upon straw, with some biscuit-sacks, or bread-sacks, as they called them, laid upon it, and some of the
same sacks to cover him.
Here they resolved (seeing all employment being at an end, and no work or wages to be had), they
would make the best of their way to get out of the reach of the dreadful infection, and, being as good husbands as they could,
would endeavour to live upon what they had as long as it would last, and then work for more if they could get work anywhere,
of any kind, let it be what it would.
While they were considering to put this resolution in practice in the best manner
they could, the third man, who was acquainted very well with the sailmaker, came to know of the design, and got leave to be
one of the number; and thus they prepared to set out.
It happened that they had not an equal share of money; but as the
sailmaker, who had the best stock, was, besides his being lame, the most unfit to expect to get anything by working in the
country, so he was content that what money they had should all go into one public stock, on condition that whatever any one
of them could gain more than another, it should without any grudging be all added to the public stock.
They resolved to
load themselves with as little baggage as possible because they resolved at first to travel on foot, and to go a great way
that they might, if possible, be effectually safe; and a great many consultations they had with themselves before they could
agree about what way they should travel, which they were so far from adjusting that even to the morning they set out they
were not resolved on it.
At last the seaman put in a hint that determined it. "First," says he, "the weather is very hot,
and therefore I am for travelling north, that we may not have the sun upon our faces and beating on our breasts, which will
heat and suffocate us; and I have been told", says he, "that it is not good to overheat our blood at a time when, for aught
we know, the infection may be in the very air. In the next place," says he, "I am for going the way that may be contrary to
the wind, as it may blow when we set out, that we may not have the wind blow the air of the city on our backs as we go." These
two cautions were approved of, if it could be brought so to hit that the wind might not be in the south when they set out
to go north.
John the baker, who bad been a soldier, then put in his opinion. "First," says he, "we none of us expect
to get any lodging on the road, and it will be a little too hard to lie just in the open air. Though it be warm weather, yet
it may be wet and damp, and we have a double reason to take care of our healths at such a time as this; and therefore," says
he, "you, brother Tom, that are a sailmaker, might easily make us a little tent, and I will undertake to set it up every night,
and take it down, and a fig for all the inns in England; if we have a good tent over our heads we shall do well enough."
joiner opposed this, and told them, let them leave that to him; he would undertake to build them a house every night with
his hatchet and mallet, though he had no other tools, which should be fully to their satisfaction, and as good as a tent.
The soldier and the joiner disputed that point some time, but at last the soldier carried it for a tent. The only objection
against it was, that it must be carried with them, and that would increase their baggage too much, the weather being hot;
but the sailmaker had a piece of good hap fell in which made that easy, for his master whom he worked for, having a rope-walk
as well as sailmaking trade, had a little, poor horse that he made no use of then; and being willing to assist the three honest
men, he gave them the horse for the carrying their baggage; also for a small matter of three days' work that his man did for
him before he went, he let him have an old top-gallant sail that was worn out, but was sufficient and more than enough to
make a very good tent. The soldier showed how to shape it, and they soon by his direction made their tent, and fitted it with
poles or staves for the purpose; and thus they were furnished for their journey, viz., three men, one tent, one horse, one
gun - for the soldier would not go without arms, for now he said he was no more a biscuit-baker, but a trooper.
had a small bag of tools such as might be useful if he should get any work abroad, as well for their subsistence as his own.
What money they had they brought all into one public stock, and thus they began their journey. It seems that in the morning
when they set out the wind blew, as the sailor said, by his pocket-compass, at N.W. by W. So they directed, or rather resolved
to direct, their course N.W.
But then a difficulty came in their way, that, as they set out from the hither end of Wapping,
near the Hermitage, and that the plague was now very violent, especially on the north side of the city, as in Shoreditch and
Cripplegate parish, they did not think it safe for them to go near those parts; so they went away east through Ratcliff Highway
as far as Ratcliff Cross, and leaving Stepney Church still on their left hand, being afraid to come up from Ratcliff Cross
to Mile End, because they must come just by the churchyard, and because the wind, that seemed to blow more from the west,
blew directly from the side of the city where the plague was hottest. So, I say, leaving Stepney they fetched a long compass,
and going to Poplar and Bromley, came into the great road just at Bow.
Here the watch placed upon Bow Bridge would have
questioned them, but they, crossing the road into a narrow way that turns out of the hither end of the town of Bow to Old
Ford, avoided any inquiry there, and travelled to Old Ford. The constables everywhere were upon their guard not so much, It
seems, to stop people passing by as to stop them from taking up their abode in their towns, and withal because of a report
that was newly raised at that time: and that, indeed, was not very improbable, viz., that the poor people in London, being
distressed and starved for want of work, and by that means for want of bread, were up in arms and had raised a tumult, and
that they would come out to all the towns round to plunder for bread. This, I say, was only a rumour, and it was very well
it was no more. But it was not so far off from being a reality as it has been thought, for in a few weeks more the poor people
became so desperate by the calamity they suffered that they were with great difficulty kept from g out into the fields and
towns, and tearing all in pieces wherever they came; and, as I have observed before, nothing hindered them but that the plague
raged so violently and fell in upon them so furiously that they rather went to the grave by thousands than into the fields
in mobs by thousands; for, in the parts about the parishes of St Sepulcher, Clarkenwell, Cripplegate, Bishopsgate, and Shoreditch,
which were the places where the mob began to threaten, the distemper came on so furiously that there died in those few parishes
even then, before the plague was come to its height, no less than 5361 people in the first three weeks in August; when at
the same time the parts about Wapping, Radcliffe, and Rotherhith were, as before described, hardly touched, or but very lightly;
so that in a word though, as I said before, the good management of the Lord Mayor and justices did much to prevent the rage
and desperation of the people from breaking out in rabbles and tumults, and in short from the poor plundering the rich, -
I say, though they did much, the dead-carts did more: for as I have said that in five parishes only there died above 5000
in twenty days, so there might be probably three times that number sick all that time; for some recovered, and great numbers
fell sick every day and died afterwards. Besides, I must still be allowed to say that if the bills of mortality said five
thousand, I always believed it was near twice as many in reality, there being no room to believe that the account they gave
was right, or that indeed they were among such confusions as I saw them in, in any condition to keep an exact account.
to return to my travellers. Here they were only examined, and as they seemed rather coming from the country than from the
city, they found the people the easier with them; that they talked to them, let them come into a public-house where the constable
and his warders were, and gave them drink and some victuals which greatly refreshed and encouraged them; and here it came
into their heads to say, when they should be inquired of afterwards, not that they came from London, but that they came out
To forward this little fraud, they obtained so much favour of the constable at Old Ford as to give them a certificate
of their passing from Essex through that village, and that they had not been at London; which, though false in the common
acceptance of London in the county, yet was literally true, Wapping or Ratcliff being no part either of the city or liberty.
This certificate directed to the next constable that was at Homerton, one of the hamlets of the parish of Hackney, was
so serviceable to them that it procured them, not a free passage there only, but a full certificate of health from a justice
of the peace, who upon the constable's application granted it without much difficulty; and thus they passed through the long
divided town of Hackney (for it lay then in several separated hamlets), and travelled on till they came into the great north
road on the top of Stamford Hill.
By this time they began to be weary, and so in the back-road from Hackney, a little
before it opened into the said great road, they resolved to set up their tent and encamp for the first night, which they did
accordingly, with this addition, that finding a barn, or a building like a barn, and first searching as well as they could
to be sure there was nobody in it, they set up their tent, with the head of it against the barn. This they did also because
the wind blew that night very high, and they were but young at such a way of lodging, as well as at the managing their tent.
Here they went to sleep; but the joiner, a grave and sober man, and not pleased with their lying at this loose rate the
first night, could not sleep, and resolved, after trying to sleep to no purpose, that he would get out, and, taking the gun
in his hand, stand sentinel and guard his companions. So with the gun in his hand, he walked to and again before the barn,
for that stood in the field near the road, but within the hedge. He had not been long upon the scout but he heard a noise
of people coming on, as if it had been a great number, and they came on, as he thought, directly towards the barn. He did
not presently awake his companions; but in a few minutes more, their noise growing louder and louder, the biscuit-baker called
to him and asked him what was the matter, and quickly started out too. The other, being the lame sailmaker and most weary,
lay still in the tent.
As they expected, so the people whom they had heard came on directly to the barn, when one of our
travellers challenged, like soldiers upon the guard, with "Who comes there?" The people did not answer immediately, but one
of them speaking to another that was behind him, "Alas I alas I we are all disappointed," says he. "Here are some people before
us; the barn is taken up."
They all stopped upon that, as under some surprise, and it seems there was about thirteen of
them in all, and some women among them. They consulted together what they should do, and by their discourse our travellers
soon found they were poor, distressed people too, like themselves, seeking shelter and safety; and besides, our travellers
had no need to be afraid of their coming up to disturb them, for as soon as- they heard the words, "Who comes there?" these
could hear the women say, as if frighted, "Do not go near them. How do you know but they may have the plague?" And when one
of the men said, "Let us but speak to them", the women said, "No, don't by any means. We have escaped thus far by the goodness
of God; do not let us run into danger now, we beseech you."
Our travellers found by this that they were a good, sober
sort of people, and flying for their lives, as they were; and, as they were encouraged by it, so John said to the joiner,
his comrade, "Let us encourage them too as much as we can"; so he called to them, "Hark ye, good people," says the joiner,
"we find by your talk that you are flying from the same dreadful enemy as we are. Do not be afraid of us; we are only three
poor men of us. If you are free from the distemper you shall not be hurt by us. We are not in the barn, but in a little tent
here in the outside, and we will remove for you; we can set up our tent again immediately anywhere else"; and upon this a
parley began between the joiner, whose name was Richard, and one of their men, who said his name was Ford.
Ford. And do
you assure us that you are all sound men?
Richard. Nay, we are concerned to tell you of it, that you may not be uneasy
or think yourselves in danger; but you see we do not desire you should put yourselves into any danger, and therefore I tell
you that we have not made use of the barn, so we will remove from it, that you may be safe and we also.
Ford. That is
very kind and charitable; but if we have reason to be satisfied that you are sound and free from the visitation, why should
we make you remove now you are settled in your lodging, and, it may be, are laid down to rest? We will go into the barn, if
you please, to rest ourselves a while, and we need not disturb you.
Richard. Well, but you are more than we are. I hope
you will assure us that you are all of you sound too, for the danger is as great from you to us as from us to you.
Blessed be God that some do escape, though it is but few; what may be our portion still we know not, but hitherto we are preserved.
Richard. What part of the town do you come from? Was the plague come to the places where you lived?
Ford. Ay, ay,
in a most frightful and terrible manner, or else we had not fled away as we do; but we believe there will be very few left
alive behind us.
Richard. What part do you come from?
Ford. We are most of us of Cripplegate parish, only two or three
of Clerkenwell parish, but on the hither side.
Richard. How then was it that you came away no sooner?
Ford. We have
been away some time, and kept together as well as we could at the hither end of Islington, where we got leave to lie in an
old uninhabited house, and had some bedding and conveniences of our own that we brought with us; but the plague is come up
into Islington too, and a house next door to our poor dwelling was infected and shut up; and we are come away in a fright.
Richard. And what way are you going?
Ford. As our lot shall cast us; we know not whither, but God will guide those
that look up to Him.
They parleyed no further at that time, but came all up to the barn, and with some difficulty got
into it. There was nothing but hay in the barn, but it was almost full of that, and they accommodated themselves as well as
they could, and went to rest; but our travellers observed that before they went to sleep an ancient man who it seems was father
of one of the women, went to prayer with all the company, recommending themselves to the blessing and direction of Providence,
before they went to sleep.
It was soon day at that time of the year, and as Richard the joiner had kept guard the first
part of the night, so John the soldier relieved him, and he had the post in the morning, and they began to be acquainted with
one another. It seems when they left Islington they intended to have gone north, away to Highgate, but were stopped at Holloway,
and there they would not let them pass; so they crossed over the fields and hills to the eastward, and came out at the Boarded
River, and so avoiding the towns, they left Hornsey on the left hand and Newington on the right hand, and came into the great
road about Stamford Hill on that side, as the three travellers had done on the other side. And now they had thoughts of going
over the river in the marshes, and make forwards to Epping Forest, where they hoped they should get leave to rest. It seems
they were not poor, at least not so poor as to be in want; at least they had enough to subsist them moderately for two or
three months, when, as they said, they were in hopes the cold weather would check the infection, or at least the violence
of it would have spent itself, and would abate, if it were only for want of people left alive to he infected.
much the fate of our three travellers, only that they seemed to be the better furnished for travelling, and had it in their
view to go farther off; for as to the first, they did not propose to go farther than one day's journey, that so they might
have intelligence every two or three days how things were at London.
But here our travellers found themselves under an
unexpected inconvenience: namely that of their horse, for by means of the horse to carry their baggage they were obliged to
keep in the road, whereas the people of this other band went over the fields or roads, path or no path, way or no way, as
they pleased; neither had they any occasion to pass through any town, or come near any town, other than to buy such things
as they wanted for their necessary subsistence, and in that indeed they were put to much difficulty; of which in its place.
But our three travellers were obliged to keep the road, or else they must commit spoil, and do the country a great deal
of damage in breaking down fences and gates to go over enclosed fields, which they were loathe to do if they could help it.
Our three travellers, however, had a great mind to join themselves to this company and take their lot with them; and after
some discourse they laid aside their first design which looked northward, and resolved to follow the other into Essex; so
in the morning they took up their tent and loaded their horse, and away they travelled all together.
They had some difficulty
in passing the ferry at the river-side, the ferryman being afraid of them; but after some parley at a distance, the ferryman
was content to bring his boat to a place distant from the usual ferry, and leave it there for them to take it; so putting
themselves over, he directed them to leave the boat, and he, having another boat, said he would fetch it again, which it seems,
however, he did not do for above eight days.
Here, giving the ferryman money beforehand, they had a supply of victuals
and drink, which he brought and left in the boat for them; but not without, as I said, having received the money beforehand.
But now our travellers were at a great loss and difficulty how to get the horse over, the boat being small and not fit for
it: and at last could not do it without unloading the baggage and making him swim over.
From the river they travelled
towards the forest, but when they came to Walthamstow the people of that town denied to admit them, as was the case everywhere.
The constables and their watchmen kept them off at a distance and parleyed with them. They gave the same account of themselves
as before, but these gave no credit to what they said, giving it for a reason that two or three companies had already come
that way and made the like pretences, but that they had given several people the distemper in the towns where they had passed;
and had been afterwards so hardly used by the country (though with justice, too, as they had deserved) that about Brentwood,
or that way, several of them perished in the fields - whether of the plague or of mere want and distress they could not tell.
This was a good reason indeed why the people of Walthamstow should be very cautious, and why they should resolve not to
entertain anybody that they were not well satisfied of. But, as Richard the joiner and one of the other men who parleyed with
them told them, it was no reason why they should block up the roads and refuse to let people pass through the town, and who
asked nothing of them but to go through the street; that if their people were afraid of them, they might go into their houses
and shut their doors; they would neither show them civility nor incivility, but go on about their business.
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