Part 3 out of 5
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.
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.
And 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 extreamest 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
From the 8th to the 15th August -
St Giles-in-the-Fields 242
St Margaret, Bermondsey 24
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
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
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
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 -
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: -
Child-bed. Abortive. Still-born.
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 17
" " 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.
The 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 again.
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 no.
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
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
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.
Thomas. But you know every vagrant person may by the laws of
England be taken up, and passed back to their last legal settlement.
John. 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.'
The 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.
The joiner 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.
But 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 of Essex.
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.
Ford. 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
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.
This was 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 loth 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.
The constables and attendants, not to be persuaded by reason,
continued obstinate, and would hearken to nothing; so the two men
that talked with them went back to their fellows to consult what was
to be done. It was very discouraging in the whole, and they knew not
what to do for a good while; but at last John the soldier and biscuit-
maker, considering a while, 'Come,' says he, 'leave the rest of the
parley to me.' He had not appeared yet, so he sets the joiner, Richard,
to work to cut some poles out of the trees and shape them as like guns
as he could, and in a little time he had five or six fair muskets, which
at a distance would not be known; and about the part where the lock
of a gun is he caused them to wrap cloth and rags such as they had, as
soldiers do in wet weather to preserve the locks of their pieces from
rust; the rest was discoloured with clay or mud, such as they could
get; and all this while the rest of them sat under the trees by his
direction, in two or three bodies, where they made fires at a good
distance from one another.
While this was doing he advanced himself and two or three with
him, and set up their tent in the lane within sight of the barrier which
the town's men had made, and set a sentinel just by it with the real
gun, the only one they had, and who walked to and fro with the gun on
his shoulder, so as that the people of the town might see them. Also,
he tied the horse to a gate in the hedge just by, and got some dry sticks
together and kindled a fire on the other side of the tent, so that the
people of the town could see the fire and the smoke, but could not see
what they were doing at it.
After the country people had looked upon them very earnestly a
great while, and, by all that they could see, could not but suppose that
they were a great many in company, they began to be uneasy, not for
their going away, but for staying where they were; and above all,
perceiving they had horses and arms, for they had seen one horse and
one gun at the tent, and they had seen others of them walk about the
field on the inside of the hedge by the side of the lane with their
muskets, as they took them to be, shouldered; I say, upon such a sight
as this, you may be assured they were alarmed and terribly frighted,
and it seems they went to a justice of the peace to know what they
should do. What the justice advised them to I know not, but towards
the evening they called from the barrier, as above, to the sentinel at
'What do you want?' says John.*
'Why, what do you intend to do?' says the constable. 'To do,' says
John; 'what would you have us to do?' Constable. Why don't you be
gone? What do you stay there for?
John. Why do you stop us on the king's highway, and pretend to
refuse us leave to go on our way?
Constable. We are not bound to tell you our reason, though we did
let you know it was because of the plague.
John. We told you we were all sound and free from the plague,
which we were not bound to have satisfied you of, and yet you pretend
to stop us on the highway.
Constable. We have a right to stop it up, and our own safety obliges
us to it. Besides, this is not the king's highway; 'tis a way upon
sufferance. You see here is a gate, and if we do let people pass here,
we make them pay toll.
John. We have a right to seek our own safety as well as you, and
you may see we are flying for our lives: and 'tis very unchristian and
unjust to stop us.
Constable. You may go back from whence you came; we do not
hinder you from that.
John. No; it is a stronger enemy than you that keeps us from doing
that, or else we should not have come hither.
Constable. Well, you may go any other way, then.
John. No, no; I suppose you see we are able to send you going, and
all the people of your parish, and come through your town when we
will; but since you have stopped us here, we are content. You see we
have encamped here, and here we will live. We hope you will furnish
us with victuals.
*It seems John was in the tent, but hearing them call, he steps out, and
taking the gun upon his shoulder, talked to them as if he had been the
sentinel placed there upon the guard by some officer that was his
superior. [Footnote in the original.]
Constable. We furnish you I What mean you by that?
John. Why, you would not have us starve, would you? If you stop us
here, you must keep us.
Constable. You will be ill kept at our maintenance.
John. If you stint us, we shall make ourselves the better allowance.
Constable. Why, you will not pretend to quarter upon us by force,
John. We have offered no violence to you yet. Why do you seem to
oblige us to it? I am an old soldier, and cannot starve, and if you think
that we shall be obliged to go back for want of provisions, you are
Constable. Since you threaten us, we shall take care to be strong
enough for you. I have orders to raise the county upon you.
John. It is you that threaten, not we. And since you are for
mischief, you cannot blame us if we do not give you time for it; we
shall begin our march in a few minutes.*
Constable. What is it you demand of us?
John. At first we desired nothing of you but leave to go through the
town; we should have offered no injury to any of you, neither would
you have had any injury or loss by us. We are not thieves, but poor
people in distress, and flying from the dreadful plague in London,
which devours thousands every week. We wonder how you could be
Constable. Self-preservation obliges us.
John. What! To shut up your compassion in a case of such distress
Constable. Well, if you will pass over the fields on your left hand,
and behind that part of the town, I will endeavour to have gates
opened for you.
John. Our horsemen ** cannot pass with our baggage that way; it
does not lead into the road that we want to go, and why should you
force us out of the road? Besides, you have kept us here all
* This frighted the constable and the people that were with him, that
they immediately changed their note.
** They had but one horse among them. [Footnotes in the original.]
day without any provisions but such as we brought with us. I think
you ought to send us some provisions for our relief.
Constable. If you will go another way we will send you some
John. That is the way to have all the towns in the county stop up the
ways against us.
Constable. If they all furnish you with food, what will you be the
worse? I see you have tents; you want no lodging.
John. Well, what quantity of provisions will you send us?
Constable. How many are you?
John. Nay, we do not ask enough for all our company; we are in
three companies. If you will send us bread for twenty men and about
six or seven women for three days, and show us the way over the field
you speak of, we desire not to put your people into any fear for us; we
will go out of our way to oblige you, though we are as free from
infection as you are.*
Constable. And will you assure us that your other people shall offer
us no new disturbance?
John. No, no you may depend on it.
Constable. You must oblige yourself, too, that none of your people
shall come a step nearer than where the provisions we send you shall
be set down.
John. I answer for it we will not.
Accordingly they sent to the place twenty loaves of bread and three
or four large pieces of good beef, and opened some gates, through
which they passed; but none of them had courage so much as to look
out to see them go, and, as it was evening, if they had looked they
could not have seen them as to know how few they were.
This was John the soldier's management. But this gave such an
alarm to the county, that had they really been two or three hundred the
whole county would have been raised upon them, and
* Here he called to one of his men, and bade him order Captain
Richard and his people to march the lower way on the side of the
marches, and meet them in the forest; which was all a sham, for they
had no Captain Richard, or any such company. [Footnote in the original.]
they would have been sent to prison, or perhaps knocked on the head.
They were soon made sensible of this, for two days afterwards they
found several parties of horsemen and footmen also about, in pursuit
of three companies of men, armed, as they said, with muskets, who
were broke out from London and had the plague upon them, and that
were not only spreading the distemper among the people, but
plundering the country.
As they saw now the consequence of their case, they soon saw the
danger they were in; so they resolved by the advice also of the old
soldier to divide themselves again. John and his two comrades, with
the horse, went away, as if towards Waltham; the other in two
companies, but all a little asunder, and went towards Epping.
The first night they encamped all in the forest, and not far off of one
another, but not setting up the tent, lest that should discover them. On
the other hand, Richard went to work with his axe and his hatchet, and
cutting down branches of trees, he built three tents or hovels, in which
they all encamped with as much convenience as they could expect.
The provisions they had at Walthamstow served them very
plentifully this night; and as for the next, they left it to Providence.
They had fared so well with the old soldier's conduct that they now
willingly made him their leader, and the first of his conduct appeared
to be very good. He told them that they were now at a proper distance
enough from London; that as they need not be immediately beholden
to the country for relief, so they ought to be as careful the country did
not infect them as that they did not infect the country; that what little
money they had, they must be as frugal of as they could; that as he
would not have them think of offering the country any violence, so
they must endeavour to make the sense of their condition go as far
with the country as it could. They all referred themselves to his
direction, so they left their three houses standing, and the next day
went away towards Epping. The captain also (for so they now called
him), and his two fellow-travellers, laid aside their design of going to
Waltham, and all went together.
When they came near Epping they halted, choosing out a proper
place in the open forest, not very near the highway, but not far out of
it on the north side, under a little cluster of low pollard-trees. Here
they pitched their little camp - which consisted of three large tents or
huts made of poles which their carpenter, and such as were his
assistants, cut down and fixed in the ground in a circle, binding all the
small ends together at the top and thickening the sides with boughs of
trees and bushes, so that they were completely close and warm. They
had, besides this, a little tent where the women lay by themselves, and
a hut to put the horse in.
It happened that the next day, or next but one, was market-day at
Epping, when Captain John and one of the other men went to market
and bought some provisions; that is to say, bread, and some mutton
and beef; and two of the women went separately, as if they had not
belonged to the rest, and bought more. John took the horse to bring it
home, and the sack which the carpenter carried his tools in, to put it
in. The carpenter went to work and made them benches and stools to
sit on, such as the wood he could get would afford, and a kind of table
to dine on.
They were taken no notice of for two or three days, but after that
abundance of people ran out of the town to look at them, and all the
country was alarmed about them. The people at first seemed afraid to
come near them; and, on the other hand, they desired the people to
keep off, for there was a rumour that the plague was at Waltham, and
that it had been in Epping two or three days; so John called out to
them not to come to them, 'for,' says he, 'we are all whole and sound
people here, and we would not have you bring the plague among us,
nor pretend we brought it among you.'
After this the parish officers came up to them and parleyed with
them at a distance, and desired to know who they were, and by what
authority they pretended to fix their stand at that place. John answered
very frankly, they were poor distressed people from London who,
foreseeing the misery they should be reduced to if plague spread into
the city, had fled out in time for their lives, and, having no
acquaintance or relations to fly to, had first taken up at Islington; but,
the plague being come into that town, were fled farther; and as they
supposed that the people of Epping might have refused them coming
into their town, they had pitched their tents thus in the open field and
in the forest, being willing to bear all the hardships of such a
disconsolate lodging rather than have any one think or be afraid that
they should receive injury by them.
At first the Epping people talked roughly to them, and told them
they must remove; that this was no place for them; and that they
pretended to be sound and well, but that they might be infected with
the plague for aught they knew, and might infect the whole country,
and they could not suffer them there.
John argued very calmly with them a great while, and told them that
London was the place by which they - that is, the townsmen of Epping
and all the country round them - subsisted; to whom they sold the
produce of their lands, and out of whom they made their rent of their
farms; and to be so cruel to the inhabitants of London, or to any of
those by whom they gained so much, was very hard, and they would
be loth to have it remembered hereafter, and have it told how
barbarous, how inhospitable, and how unkind they were to the people
of London when they fled from the face of the most terrible enemy in
the world; that it would be enough to make the name of an Epping
man hateful through all the city, and to have the rabble stone them in
the very streets whenever they came so much as to market; that they
were not yet secure from being visited themselves, and that, as he
heard, Waltham was already; that they would think it very hard that
when any of them fled for fear before they were touched, they should
be denied the liberty of lying so much as in the open fields.
The Epping men told them again, that they, indeed, said they were
sound and free from the infection, but that they had no assurance of it;
and that it was reported that there had been a great rabble of people at
Walthamstow, who made such pretences of being sound as they did,
but that they threatened to plunder the town and force their way,
whether the parish officers would or no; that there were near two
hundred of them, and had arms and tents like Low Country soldiers;
that they extorted provisions from the town, by threatening them with
living upon them at free quarter, showing their arms, and talking in
the language of soldiers; and that several of them being gone away
toward Rumford and Brentwood, the country had been infected by
them, and the plague spread into both those large towns, so that the
people durst not go to market there as usual; that it was very likely
they were some of that party; and if so, they deserved to be sent to the
county jail, and be secured till they had made satisfaction for the
damage they had done, and for the terror and fright they had put the
John answered that what other people had done was nothing to
them; that they assured them they were all of one company; that they
had never been more in number than they saw them at that time
(which, by the way, was very true); that they came out in two separate
companies, but joined by the way, their cases being the same; that
they were ready to give what account of themselves anybody could
desire of them, and to give in their names and places of abode, that so
they might be called to an account for any disorder that they might be
guilty of; that the townsmen might see they were content to live
hardly, and only desired a little room to breathe in on the forest where
it was wholesome; for where it was not they could not stay, and would
decamp if they found it otherwise there.
'But,' said the townsmen, 'we have a great charge of poor upon our
hands already, and we must take care not to increase it; we suppose
you can give us no security against your being chargeable to our
parish and to the inhabitants, any more than you can of being
dangerous to us as to the infection.'
'Why, look you,' says John, 'as to being chargeable to you, we hope
we shall not. If you will relieve us with provisions for our present
necessity, we will be very thankful; as we all lived without charity
when we were at home, so we will oblige ourselves fully to repay you,
if God pleases to bring us back to our own families and houses in
safety, and to restore health to the people of London.
'As to our dying here: we assure you, if any of us die, we that survive
will bury them, and put you to no expense, except it should be that we
should all die; and then, indeed, the last man not being able to bury
himself, would put you to that single expense which I am persuaded',
says John, 'he would leave enough behind him to pay you for the
'On the other hand,' says John, 'if you shut up all bowels of
compassion, and not relieve us at all, we shall not extort anything by
violence or steal from any one; but when what little we have is spent,
if we perish for want, God's will be done.'
John wrought so upon the townsmen, by talking thus rationally and
smoothly to them, that they went away; and though they did not give
any consent to their staying there, yet they did not molest them; and
the poor people continued there three or four days longer without any
disturbance. In this time they had got some remote acquaintance with
a victualling-house at the outskirts of the town, to whom they called at
a distance to bring some little things that they wanted, and which they
caused to be set down at a distance, and always paid for very honestly.
During this time the younger people of the town came frequently
pretty near them, and would stand and look at them, and sometimes
talk with them at some space between; and particularly it was
observed that the first Sabbath-day the poor people kept retired,
worshipped God together, and were heard to sing psalms.
These things, and a quiet, inoffensive behaviour, began to get them
the good opinion of the country, and people began to pity them and
speak very well of them; the consequence of which was, that upon the
occasion of a very wet, rainy night, a certain gentleman who lived in
the neighbourhood sent them a little cart with twelve trusses or
bundles of straw, as well for them to lodge upon as to cover and
thatch their huts and to keep them dry. The minister of a parish not
far off, not knowing of the other, sent them also about two bushels of
wheat and half a bushel of white peas.
They were very thankful, to be sure, for this relief, and particularly
the straw was a -very great comfort to them; for though the ingenious
carpenter had made frames for them to lie in like troughs, and filled
them with leaves of trees, and such things as they could get, and had
cut all their tent-cloth out to make them coverlids, yet they lay damp
and hard and unwholesome till this straw came, which was to them
like feather-beds, and, as John said, more welcome than feather-beds
would have been at another time.
This gentleman and the minister having thus begun, and given an
example of charity to these wanderers, others quickly followed, and
they received every day some benevolence or other from the people,
but chiefly from the gentlemen who dwelt in the country round them.
Some sent them chairs, stools, tables, and such household things as
they gave notice they wanted; some sent them blankets, rugs, and
coverlids, some earthenware, and some kitchen ware for ordering
Encouraged by this good usage, their carpenter in a few days built
them a large shed or house with rafters, and a roof in form, and an
upper floor, in which they lodged warm: for the weather began to be
damp and cold in the beginning of September. But this house, being
well thatched, and the sides and roof made very thick, kept out the
cold well enough. He made, also, an earthen wall at one end with a
chimney in it, and another of the company, with a vast deal of trouble
and pains, made a funnel to the chimney to carry out the smoke.
Here they lived comfortably, though coarsely, till the beginning of
September, when they had the bad news to hear, whether true or not,
that the plague, which was very hot at Waltham Abbey on one side
and at Rumford and Brentwood on the other side, was also coming to
Epping, to Woodford, and to most of the towns upon the Forest, and
which, as they said, was brought down among them chiefly by the
higlers, and such people as went to and from London with provisions.
If this was true, it was an evident contradiction to that report which
was afterwards spread all over England, but which, as I have said, I
cannot confirm of my own knowledge: namely, that the market-people
carrying provisions to the city never got the infection or carried it
back into the country; both which, I have been assured, has been false.
It might be that they were preserved even beyond expectation,
though not to a miracle, that abundance went and came and were not
touched; and that was much for the encouragement of the poor people
of London, who had been completely miserable if the people that
brought provisions to the markets had not been many times
wonderfully preserved, or at least more preserved than could be
But now these new inmates began to be disturbed more effectually,
for the towns about them were really infected, and they began to be
afraid to trust one another so much as to go abroad for such things as
they wanted, and this pinched them very hard, for now they had little
or nothing but what the charitable gentlemen of the country supplied
them with. But, for their encouragement, it happened that other
gentlemen in the country who had not sent them anything before,
began to hear of them and supply them, and one sent them a large pig
- that is to say, a porker another two sheep, and another sent them a
calf. In short, they had meat enough, and sometimes had cheese and
milk, and all such things. They were chiefly put to it for bread, for
when the gentlemen sent them corn they had nowhere to bake it or to
grind it. This made them eat the first two bushel of wheat that was
sent them in parched corn, as the Israelites of old did, without
grinding or making bread of it.
At last they found means to carry their corn to a windmill near
Woodford, where they bad it ground, and afterwards the biscuit-maker
made a hearth so hollow and dry that he could bake biscuit-cakes
tolerably well; and thus they came into a condition to live without any
assistance or supplies from the towns; and it was well they did, for the
country was soon after fully infected, and about 120 were said to have
died of the distemper in the villages near them, which was a terrible
thing to them.
On this they called a new council, and now the towns had no need to
be afraid they should settle near them; but, on the contrary, several
families of the poorer sort of the inhabitants quitted their houses and
built huts in the forest after the same manner as they had done. But it
was observed that several of these poor people that had so removed
had the sickness even in their huts
or booths; the reason of which was plain, namely, not because they
removed into the air, but, () because they did not remove time enough;
that is to say, not till, by openly conversing with the other people their
neighbours, they had the distemper upon them, or (as may be said)
among them, and so carried it about them whither they went. Or (2)
because they were not careful enough, after they were safely removed
out of the towns, not to come in again and mingle with the diseased people.
But be it which of these it will, when our travellers began to
perceive that the plague was not only in the towns, but even in the
tents and huts on the forest near them, they began then not only to be
afraid, but to think of decamping and removing; for had they stayed
they would have been in manifest danger of their lives.
It is not to be wondered that they were greatly afflicted at being
obliged to quit the place where they had been so kindly received, and
where they had been treated with so much humanity and charity; but
necessity and the hazard of life, which they came out so far to
preserve, prevailed with them, and they saw no remedy. John,
however, thought of a remedy for their present misfortune: namely,
that he would first acquaint that gentleman who was their principal
benefactor with the distress they were in, and to crave his assistance
The good, charitable gentleman encouraged them to quit the Place
for fear they should be cut off from any retreat at all by the violence
of the distemper; but whither they should go, that he found very hard
to direct them to. At last John asked of him whether he, being a
justice of the peace, would give them certificates of health to other
justices whom they might come before; that so whatever might be
their lot, they might not be repulsed now they had been also so long
from London. This his worship immediately granted, and gave them
proper letters of health, and from thence they were at liberty to travel
whither they pleased.
Accordingly they had a full certificate of health, intimating that they
had resided in a village in the county of Essex so long that, being
examined and scrutinised sufficiently, and having been retired from
all conversation for above forty days, without any appearance of
sickness, they were therefore certainly concluded to be sound men,
and might be safely entertained anywhere, having at last removed
rather for fear of the plague which was come into such a town, rather
than for having any signal of infection upon them, or upon any
belonging to them.
With this certificate they removed, though with great reluctance;
and John inclining not to go far from home, they moved towards the
marshes on the side of Waltham. But here they found a man who, it
seems, kept a weir or stop upon the river, made to raise the water for
the barges which go up and down the river, and he terrified them with
dismal stories of the sickness having been spread into all the towns on
the river and near the river, on the side of Middlesex and Hertfordshire;
that is to say, into Waltham, Waltham Cross, Enfield, and Ware, and all
the towns on the road, that they were afraid to go that way; though it
seems the man imposed upon them, for that the thing was not really true.
However, it terrified them, and they resolved to move across the
forest towards Rumford and Brentwood; but they heard that there
were numbers of people fled out of London that way, who lay up and
down in the forest called Henalt Forest, reaching near Rumford, and
who, having no subsistence or habitation, not only lived oddly and
suffered great extremities in the woods and fields for want of relief,
but were said to be made so desperate by those extremities as that they
offered many violences to the county robbed and plundered, and
killed cattle, and the like; that others, building huts and hovels by the
roadside, begged, and that with an importunity next door to
demanding relief; so that the county was very uneasy, and had been
obliged to take some of them up.
This in the first place intimated to them, that they would be sure to
find the charity and kindness of the county, which they had found here
where they were before, hardened and shut up against them; and that,
on the other hand, they would be questioned wherever they came, and
would be in danger of violence from others in like cases as
Upon all these considerations John, their captain, in all their names,
went back to their good friend and benefactor, who had relieved them
before, and laying their case truly before him, humbly asked his
advice; and he as kindly advised them to take up their old quarters
again, or if not, to remove but a little farther out of the road, and
directed them to a proper place for them; and as they really wanted
some house rather than huts to shelter them at that time of the year, it
growing on towards Michaelmas, they found an old decayed house
which had been formerly some cottage or little habitation but was so
out of repair as scarce habitable; and by the consent of a farmer to
whose farm it belonged, they got leave to make what use of it they could.
The ingenious joiner, and all the rest, by his directions went to work
with it, and in a very few days made it capable to shelter them all in
case of bad weather; and in which there was an old chimney and old
oven, though both lying in ruins; yet they made them both fit for use,
and, raising additions, sheds, and leantos on every side, they soon
made the house capable to hold them all.
They chiefly wanted boards to make window-shutters, floors, doors,
and several other things; but as the gentlemen above favoured them,
and the country was by that means made easy with them, and above
all, that they were known to be all sound and in good health,
everybody helped them with what they could spare.
Here they encamped for good and all, and resolved to remove no
more. They saw plainly how terribly alarmed that county was
everywhere at anybody that came from London, and that they should
have no admittance anywhere but with the utmost difficulty; at least
no friendly reception and assistance as they had received here.
Now, although they received great assistance and encouragement
from the country gentlemen and from the people round about them,
yet they were put to great straits: for the weather grew cold and wet in
October and November, and they had not been used to so much
hardship; so that they got colds in their limbs, and distempers, but
never had the infection; and thus about December they came home to
the city again.
I give this story thus at large, principally to give an account what
became of the great numbers of people which immediately appeared
in the city as soon as the sickness abated; for, as I have said, great
numbers of those that were able and had retreats in the country fled to
those retreats. So, when it was increased to such a frightful extremity
as I have related, the middling people who had not friends fled to all
parts of the country where they could get shelter, as well those that
had money to relieve themselves as those that had not. Those that had
money always fled farthest, because they were able to subsist
themselves; but those who were empty suffered, as I have said, great
hardships, and were often driven by necessity to relieve their wants at
the expense of the country. By that means the country was made very
uneasy at them, and sometimes took them up; though even then they
scarce knew what to do with them, and were always very backward to
punish them, but often, too, they forced them from place to place till
they were obliged to come back again to London.
I have, since my knowing this story of John and his brother, inquired
and found that there were a great many of the poor disconsolate
people, as above, fled into the country every way; and some of them
got little sheds and barns and outhouses to live in, where they could
obtain so much kindness of the country, and especially where they had
any the least satisfactory account to give of themselves, and
particularly that they did not come out of London too late. But others,
and that in great numbers, built themselves little huts and retreats in
the fields and woods, and lived like hermits in holes and caves, or any
place they could find, and where, we may be sure, they suffered great
extremities, such that many of them were obliged to come back again
whatever the danger was; and so those little huts were often found
empty, and the country people supposed the inhabitants lay dead in
them of the plague, and would not go near them for fear - no, not in a
great while; nor is it unlikely but that some of the unhappy wanderers
might die so all alone, even sometimes for want of help, as
particularly in one tent or hut was found a man dead, and on the gate
of a field just by was cut with his knife in uneven letters the following
words, by which it may be supposed the other man escaped, or that,
one dying first, the other buried him as well as he could: -
We BoTH ShaLL DyE,
I have given an account already of what I found to have been the
case down the river among the seafaring men; how the ships lay in the
offing, as it's called, in rows or lines astern of one another, quite down
from the Pool as far as I could see. I have been told that they lay in
the same manner quite down the river as low as Gravesend, and some
far beyond: even everywhere or in every place where they could ride
with safety as to wind and weather; nor did I ever hear that the plague
reached to any of the people on board those ships - except such as lay
up in the Pool, or as high as Deptford Reach, although the people
went frequently on shore to the country towns and villages and
farmers' houses, to buy fresh provisions, fowls, pigs, calves, and the
like for their supply.
Likewise I found that the watermen on the river above the bridge
found means to convey themselves away up the river as far as they
could go, and that they had, many of them, their whole families in
their boats, covered with tilts and bales, as they call them, and
furnished with straw within for their lodging, and that they lay thus all
along by the shore in the marshes, some of them setting up little tents
with their sails, and so lying under them on shore in the day, and
going into their boats at night; and in this manner, as I have heard, the
river-sides were lined with boats and people as long as they had
anything to subsist on, or could get anything of the country; and
indeed the country people, as well Gentlemen as others, on these and
all other occasions, were very forward to relieve them - but they were
by no means willing to receive them into their towns and houses, and
for that we cannot blame them.
There was one unhappy citizen within my knowledge who had been
visited in a dreadful manner, so that his wife and all his children were
dead, and himself and two servants only left, with an elderly woman,
a near relation, who had nursed those that were dead as well as she
could. This disconsolate man goes to a village near the town, though
not within the bills of mortality, and finding an empty house there,
inquires out the owner, and took the house. After a few days he got a
cart and loaded it with goods, and carries them down to the house; the
people of the village opposed his driving the cart along; but with some
arguings and some force, the men that drove the cart along got
through the street up to the door of the house. There the constable
resisted them again, and would not let them be brought in. The man
caused the goods to be unloaden and laid at the door, and sent the cart
away; upon which they carried the man before a justice of peace; that
is to say, they commanded him to go, which he did. The justice
ordered him to cause the cart to fetch away the goods again, which he
refused to do; upon which the justice ordered the constable to pursue
the carters and fetch them back, and make them reload the goods and
carry them away, or to set them in the stocks till they came for further
orders; and if they could not find them, nor the man would not
consent to take them away, they should cause them to be drawn with
hooks from the house-door and burned in the street. The poor
distressed man upon this fetched the goods again, but with grievous
cries and lamentations at the hardship of his case. But there was no
remedy; self-preservation obliged the people to those severities which
they would not otherwise have been concerned in. Whether this poor
man lived or died I cannot tell, but it was reported that he had the
plague upon him at that time; and perhaps the people might report that
to justify their usage of him; but it was not unlikely that either he or
his goods, or both, were dangerous, when his whole family had been
dead of the distempers so little a while before.
I know that the inhabitants of the towns adjacent to London were
much blamed for cruelty to the poor people that ran from the
contagion in their distress, and many very severe things were done, as
may be seen from what has been said; but I cannot but say also that,
where there was room for charity and assistance to the people, without
apparent danger to themselves, they were
willing enough to help and relieve them. But as every town were
indeed judges in their own case, so the poor people who ran abroad in
their extremities were often ill-used and driven back again into the
town; and this caused infinite exclamations and outcries against the
country towns, and made the clamour very popular.
And yet, more or less, maugre all the caution, there was not a town
of any note within ten (or, I believe, twenty) miles of the city but what
was more or less infected and had some died among them. I have
heard the accounts of several, such as they were reckoned up, as follows: -
In Enfield 32 In Uxbridge 117
" Hornsey 58 " Hertford 90
" Newington 17 " Ware 160
" Tottenham 42 " Hodsdon 30
" Edmonton 19 " Waltham Abbey 23
" Barnet and Hadly 19 " Epping 26
" St Albans 121 " Deptford 623
" Watford 45 " Greenwich 231
" Eltham and Lusum 85 " Kingston 122
" Croydon 61 " Stanes 82
" Brentwood 70 " Chertsey 18
" Rumford 109 " Windsor 103
" Barking Abbot 200
" Brentford 432 Cum aliis.
Another thing might render the country more strict with respect to
the citizens, and especially with respect to the poor, and this was what
I hinted at before: namely, that there was a seeming propensity or a
wicked inclination in those that were infected to infect others.
There have been great debates among our physicians as to the
reason of this. Some will have it to be in the nature of the disease,
and that it impresses every one that is seized upon by it with a kind of
a rage, and a hatred against their own kind - as if there was a
malignity not only in the distemper to communicate itself, but in the
very nature of man, prompting him with evil will or
an evil eye, that, as they say in the case of a mad dog, who though the
gentlest creature before of any of his kind, yet then will fly upon and
bite any one that comes next him, and those as soon as any who had
been most observed by him before.
Others placed it to the account of the corruption of human nature,
who cannot bear to see itself more miserable than others of its own
species, and has a kind of involuntary wish that all men were as
unhappy or in as bad a condition as itself.
Others say it was only a kind of desperation, not knowing or
regarding what they did, and consequently unconcerned at the danger
or safety not only of anybody near them, but even of themselves also.
And indeed, when men are once come to a condition to abandon
themselves, and be unconcerned for the safety or at the danger of
themselves, it cannot be so much wondered that they should be
careless of the safety of other people.
But I choose to give this grave debate a quite different turn, and
answer it or resolve it all by saying that I do not grant the fact. On the
contrary, I say that the thing is not really so, but that it was a general
complaint raised by the people inhabiting the outlying villages against
the citizens to justify, or at least excuse, those hardships and severities
so much talked of, and in which complaints both sides may be said to
have injured one another; that is to say, the citizens pressing to be
received and harboured in time of distress, and with the plague upon
them, complain of the cruelty and injustice of the country people in
being refused entrance and forced back again with their goods and
families; and the inhabitants, finding themselves so imposed upon,
and the citizens breaking in as it were upon them whether they would
or no, complain that when they were infected they were not only
regardless of others, but even willing to infect them; neither of which
were really true - that is to say, in the colours they were described in.
It is true there is something to be said for the frequent alarms which
were given to the country of the resolution of the people of London to
come out by force, not only for relief, but to plunder and rob; that they
ran about the streets with the distemper upon them without any
control; and that no care was taken to shut up houses, and confine the
sick people from infecting others; whereas, to do the Londoners
justice, they never practised such things, except in such particular
cases as I have mentioned above, and such like. On the other hand,
everything was managed with so much care, and such excellent order
was observed in the whole city and suburbs by the care of the Lord
Mayor and aldermen and by the justices of the peace, church-wardens,
&c., in the outparts, that London may be a pattern to all the cities in
the world for the good government and the excellent order that was
everywhere kept, even in the time of the most violent infection, and
when the people were in the utmost consternation and distress. But of
this I shall speak by itself.
One thing, it is to be observed, was owing principally to the
prudence of the magistrates, and ought to be mentioned to their
honour: viz., the moderation which they used in the great and difficult
work of shutting up of houses. It is true, as I have mentioned, that the
shutting up of houses was a great subject of discontent, and I may say
indeed the only subject of discontent among the people at that time;
for the confining the sound in the same house with the sick was
counted very terrible, and the complaints of people so confined were
very grievous. They were heard into the very streets, and they were
sometimes such that called for resentment, though oftener for
compassion. They had no way to converse with any of their friends
but out at their windows, where they would make such piteous
lamentations as often moved the hearts of those they talked with, and
of others who, passing by, heard their story; and as those complaints
oftentimes reproached the severity, and sometimes the insolence, of
the watchmen placed at their doors, those watchmen would answer
saucily enough, and perhaps be apt to affront the people who were in
the street talking to the said families; for which, or for their ill-
treatment of the families, I think seven or eight of them in several
places were killed; I know not whether I should say murdered or not,
because I cannot enter into the particular cases. It is true the
watchmen were on their duty, and acting in the post where they were
placed by a lawful authority; and killing any public legal officer in the
execution of his office is always, in the language of the law, called
murder. But as they were not authorised by the magistrates'
instructions, or by the power they acted under, to be injurious or
abusive either to the people who were under their observation or to
any that concerned themselves for them; so when they did so, they
might he said to act themselves, not their office; ' to act as private
persons, not as persons employed; and consequently, if they brought
mischief upon themselves by such an undue behaviour, that mischief
was upon their own heads; and indeed they had so much the hearty
curses of the people, whether they deserved it or not, that whatever
befell them nobody pitied them, and everybody was apt to say they
deserved it, whatever it was. Nor do I remember that anybody was
ever punished, at least to any considerable degree, for whatever was
done to the watchmen that guarded their houses.
What variety of stratagems were used to escape and get out of
houses thus shut up, by which the watchmen were deceived or
overpowered, and that the people got away, I have taken notice of
already, and shall say no more to that. But I say the magistrates did
moderate and ease families upon many occasions in this case, and
particularly in that of taking away, or suffering to be removed, the
sick persons out of such houses when they were willing to be removed
either to a pest-house or other Places; and sometimes giving the well
persons in the family so shut up, leave to remove upon information
given that they were well, and that they would confine themselves in
such houses where they went so long as should be required of them.
The concern, also, of the magistrates for the supplying such poor
families as were infected - I say, supplying them with necessaries, as
well physic as food - was very great, and in which they did not content
themselves with giving the necessary orders to the officers appointed,
but the aldermen in person, and on horseback, frequently rode to such
houses and caused the people to be asked at their windows whether
they were duly attended or not; also, whether they wanted anything
that was necessary, and if the officers had constantly carried their
messages and fetched them such things as they wanted or not. And if
they answered in the affirmative, all was well; but if they complained
that they were ill supplied, and that the officer did not do his duty, or
did not treat them civilly, they (the officers) were generally removed,
and others placed in their stead.
It is true such complaint might be unjust, and if the officer had such
arguments to use as would convince the magistrate that he was right,
and that the people had injured him, he was continued and they
reproved. But this part could not well bear a particular inquiry, for the
parties could very ill be well heard and answered in the street from the
windows, as was the case then. The magistrates, therefore, generally
chose to favour the people and remove the man, as what seemed to be
the least wrong and of the least ill consequence; seeing if the
watchman was injured, yet they could easily make him amends by
giving him another post of the like nature; but if the family was
injured, there was no satisfaction could be made to them, the damage
perhaps being irreparable, as it concerned their lives.
A great variety of these cases frequently happened between the
watchmen and the poor people shut up, besides those I formerly
mentioned about escaping. Sometimes the watchmen were absent,
sometimes drunk, sometimes asleep when the people wanted them,
and such never failed to be punished severely, as indeed they
But after all that was or could be done in these cases, the shutting up
of houses, so as to confine those that were well with those that were
sick, had very great inconveniences in it, and some that were very
tragical, and which merited to have been considered if there had been
room for it. But it was authorised by a law, it had the public good in
view as the end chiefly aimed at, and all the private injuries that were
done by the putting it in execution must be put to the account of the
It is doubtful to this day whether, in the whole, it contributed
anything to the stop of the infection; and indeed I cannot say it did, for
nothing could run with greater fury and rage than the infection did
when it was in its chief violence, though the houses infected were shut
up as exactly and as effectually as it was possible. Certain it is that if
all the infected persons were effectually shut in, no sound person
could have been infected by them, because they could not have come
near them. But the case was this (and I shall only touch it here):
namely, that the infection was propagated insensibly, and by such
persons as were not visibly infected, who neither knew whom they
infected or who they were infected by.
A house in Whitechappel was shut up for the sake of one infected
maid, who had only spots, not the tokens come out upon her, and
recovered; yet these people obtained no liberty to stir, neither for air
or exercise, forty days. Want of breath, fear, anger, vexation, and all
the other gifts attending such an injurious treatment cast the mistress
of the family into a fever, and visitors came into the house and said it
was the plague, though the physicians declared it was not. However,
the family were obliged to begin their quarantine anew on the report
of the visitors or examiner, though their former quarantine wanted but
a few days of being finished. This oppressed them so with anger and
grief, and, as before, straitened them also so much as to room, and for
want of breathing and free air, that most of the family fell sick, one of
one distemper, one of another, chiefly scorbutic ailments; only one, a
violent colic; till, after several prolongings of their confinement, some
or other of those that came in with the visitors to inspect the persons
that were ill, in hopes of releasing them, brought the distemper with
them and infected the whole house; and all or most of them died, not
of the plague as really upon them before, but of the plague that those
people brought them, who should have been careful to have protected
them from it. And this was a thing which frequently happened, and
was indeed one of the worst consequences of shutting houses up.
I had about this time a little hardship put upon me, which I was at
first greatly afflicted at, and very much disturbed about though, as it
proved, it did not expose me to any disaster; and this was being
appointed by the alderman of Portsoken Ward one of the examiners of
the houses in the precinct where I lived. We had a large parish, and
had no less than eighteen examiners, as the order called us; the people
called us visitors. I endeavoured with all my might to be excused
from such an employment, and used many arguments with the
alderman's deputy to be excused; particularly I alleged that I was
against shutting up houses at all, and that it would be very hard to
oblige me to be an instrument in that which was against my
judgement, and which I did verily believe would not answer the end it
was intended for; but all the abatement I could get was only, that
whereas the officer was appointed by my Lord Mayor to continue two
months, I should be obliged to hold it but three weeks, on condition
nevertheless that I could then get some other sufficient housekeeper to
serve the rest of the time for me - which was, in short, but a very small
favour, it being very difficult to get any man to accept of such an
employment, that was fit to be entrusted with it.
It is true that shutting up of houses had one effect, which I am
sensible was of moment, namely, it confined the distempered people,
who would otherwise have been both very troublesome and very
dangerous in their running about streets with the distemper upon them
- which, when they were delirious, they would have done in a most
frightful manner, and as indeed they began to do at first very much,
till they were thus restraided; nay, so very open they were that the
poor would go about and beg at people's doors, and say they had the
plague upon them, and beg rags for their sores, or both, or anything
that delirious nature happened to think of.
A poor, unhappy gentlewoman, a substantial citizen's wife, was (if
the story be true) murdered by one of these creatures in Aldersgate
Street, or that way. He was going along the street, raving mad to be
sure, and singing; the people only said he was drunk, but he himself
said he had the plague upon him, which it seems was true; and
meeting this gentlewoman, he would kiss her. She was terribly
frighted, as he was only a rude fellow, and she ran from him, but the
street being very thin of people, there was nobody near enough to help
her. When she saw he would overtake her, she turned and gave him a
thrust so forcibly, he being but weak, and pushed him down
backward. But very unhappily, she being so near, he caught hold of
her and pulled her down also, and getting up first, mastered her and
kissed her; and which was worst of all, when he had done, told her he
had the plague, and why should not she have it as well as he? She was
frighted enough before, being also young with child; but when she
heard him say he had the plague, she screamed out and fell down into
a swoon, or in a fit, which, though she recovered a little, yet killed her
in a very few days; and I never heard whether she had the plague or no.
Another infected person came and knocked at the door of a citizen's
house where they knew him very well; the servant let him in, and
being told the master of the house was above, he ran up and came into
the room to them as the whole family was at supper. They began to
rise up, a little surprised, not knowing what the matter was; but he bid
them sit still, he only came to take his leave of them. They asked him,
'Why, Mr -, where are you going?' 'Going,' says he; 'I have got the
sickness, and shall die tomorrow night.' 'Tis easy to believe, though
not to describe, the consternation they were all in. The women and
the man's daughters, which were but little girls, were frighted almost
to death and got up, one running out at one door and one at another,
some downstairs and some upstairs, and getting together as well as
they could, locked themselves into their chambers and screamed out
at the window for help, as if they had been frighted out of their, wits.
The master, more composed than they, though both frighted and
provoked, was going to lay hands on him and throw him downstairs,
being in a passion; but then, considering a little the condition of the
man and the danger of touching him, horror seized his mind, and he
stood still like one astonished. The poor distempered man all this
while, being as well diseased in his brain as in his body, stood still
like one amazed. At length he turns round: 'Ay!' says he, with all the
seeming calmness imaginable, 'is it so with you all? Are you all
disturbed at me? Why, then I'll e'en go home and die there.' And so he
goes immediately downstairs. The servant that had let him in goes
down after him with a candle, but was afraid to go past him and open
the door, so he stood on the stairs to see what he would do. The man
went and opened the door, and went out and flung the door after him.
It was some while before the family recovered the fright, but as no ill
consequence attended, they have had occasion since to speak of it
(You may be sure) with great satisfaction. Though the man was gone,
it was some time - nay, as I heard, some days before they recovered
themselves of the hurry they were in; nor did they go up and down the
house with any assurance till they had burnt a great variety of fumes
and perfumes in all the rooms, and made a great many smokes of
pitch, of gunpowder, and of sulphur, all separately shifted, and
washed their clothes, and the like. As to the poor man, whether he
lived or died I don't remember.
It is most certain that, if by the shutting up of houses the sick bad
not been confined, multitudes who in the height of their fever were
delirious and distracted would have been continually running up and
down the streets; and even as it was a very great number did so, and
offered all sorts of violence to those they met,. even just as a mad dog
runs on and bites at every one he meets; nor can I doubt but that,
should one of those infected, diseased creatures have bitten any man
or woman while the frenzy of the distemper was upon them, they, I
mean the person so wounded, would as certainly have been incurably
infected as one that was sick before, and had the tokens upon him.
I heard of one infected creature who, running out of his bed in his
shirt in the anguish and agony of his swellings, of which he had three
upon him, got his shoes on and went to put on his coat; but the nurse
resisting, and snatching the coat from him, he threw her down, ran
over her, ran downstairs and into the street, directly to the Thames in
his shirt; the nurse running after him, and calling to the watch to stop
him; but the watchman, ftighted at the man, and afraid to touch him,
let him go on; upon which he ran down to the Stillyard stairs, threw
away his shirt, and plunged into the Thames, and, being a good
swimmer, swam quite over the river; and the tide being coming in, as
they call it (that is, running westward) he reached the land not till he
came about the Falcon stairs, where landing, and finding no people
there, it being in the night, he ran about the streets there, naked as he
was, for a good while, when, it being by that time high water, he takes
the river again, and swam back to the Stillyard, landed, ran up the
streets again to his own house, knocking at the door, went up the stairs
and into his bed again; and that this terrible experiment cured him of
the plague, that is to say, that the violent motion of his arms and legs
stretched the parts where the swellings he had upon him were, that is
to say, under his arms and his groin, and caused them to ripen and
break; and that the cold of the water abated the fever in his blood.
I have only to add that I do not relate this any more than some of the
other, as a fact within my own knowledge, so as that I can vouch the
truth of them, and especially that of the man being cured by the
extravagant adventure, which I confess I do not think very possible;
but it may serve to confirm the many desperate things which the
distressed people falling into deliriums, and what we call light-
headedness, were frequently run upon at that time, and how infinitely
more such there would have been if such people had not been
confined by the shutting up of houses; and this I take to be the best, if
not the only good thing which was performed by that severe method.
On the other hand, the complaints and the murmurings were very
bitter against the thing itself. It would pierce the hearts of all that
came by to hear the piteous cries of those infected people, who, being
thus out of their understandings by the violence of their pain or the
heat of their blood, were either shut in or perhaps tied in their beds
and chairs, to prevent their doing themselves hurt - and who would
make a dreadful outcry at their being confined, and at their being not
permitted to die at large, as they called it, and as they would have
This running of distempered people about the streets was very
dismal, and the magistrates did their utmost to prevent it; but as it was
generally in the night and always sudden when such attempts were
made, the officers could not be at band to prevent it; and even when
any got out in the day, the officers appointed did not care to meddle
with them, because, as they were all grievously infected, to be sure,
when they were come to that height, so they were more than ordinarily
infectious, and it was one of the most dangerous things that could be
to touch them. On the other hand, they generally ran on, not knowing
what they did, till they dropped down stark dead, or till they had
exhausted their spirits so as that they would fall and then die in
perhaps half-an-hour or an hour; and, which was most piteous to hear,
they were sure to come to themselves entirely in that half-hour or
hour, and then to make most grievous and piercing cries and
lamentations in the deep, afflicting sense of the condition they were
in. This was much of it before the order for shutting up of houses was
strictly put in execution, for at first the watchmen were not so
vigorous and severe as they were afterward in the keeping the people
in; that is to say, before they were (I mean some of them) severely
punished for their neglect, failing in their duty, and letting people who
were under their care slip away, or conniving at their going abroad,
whether sick or well. But after they saw the officers appointed to
examine into their conduct were resolved to have them do their duty
or be punished for the omission, they were more exact, and the people
were strictly restrained; which was a thing they took so ill and bore so
impatiently that their discontents can hardly be described. But there
was an absolute necessity for it, that must be confessed, unless some
other measures had been timely entered upon, and it was too late for that.
Had not this particular (of the sick being restrained as above) been
our case at that time, London would have been the most dreadful
place that ever was in the world; there would, for aught I know, have
as many people died in the streets as died in their houses; for when the
distemper was at its height it generally made them raving and
delirious, and when they were so they would never be persuaded to
keep in their beds but by force; and many who were not tied threw
themselves out of windows when they found they could not get leave
to go out of their doors.
It was for want of people conversing one with another, in this time
of calamity, that it was impossible any particular person could come
at the knowledge of all the extraordinary cases that occurred in
different families; and particularly I believe it was never known to this
day how many people in their deliriums drowned themselves in the
Thames, and in the river which runs from the marshes by Hackney,
which we generally called Ware River, or Hackney River. As to those
which were set down in the weekly bill, they were indeed few; nor
could it be known of any of those whether they drowned themselves
by accident or not. But I believe I might reckon up more who within
the compass of my knowledge or observation really drowned
themselves in that year, than are put down in the bill of all put
together: for many of the bodies were never found who yet were
known to be lost; and the like in other methods of self-destruction.
There was also one man in or about Whitecross Street burned himself
to death in his bed; some said it was done by himself, others that it
was by the treachery of the nurse that attended him; but that he had
the plague upon him was agreed by all.
It was a merciful disposition of Providence also, and which I have
many times thought of at that time, that no fires, or no considerable
ones at least, happened in the city during that year, which, if it had
been otherwise, would have been very dreadful; and either the people
must have let them alone unquenched, or have come together in great
crowds and throngs, unconcerned at the danger of the infection, not
concerned at the houses they went into, at the goods they handled, or
at the persons or the people they came among. But so it was, that
excepting that in Cripplegate parish, and two or three little eruptions
of fires, which were presently extinguished, there was no disaster of
that kind happened in the whole year. They told us a story of a house
in a place called Swan Alley, passing from Goswell Street, near the
end of Old Street, into St John Street, that a family was infected there
in so terrible a manner that every one of the house died. The last
person lay dead on the floor, and, as it is supposed, had lain herself all
along to die just before the fire; the fire, it seems, had fallen from its
place, being of wood, and had taken hold of the boards and the joists
they lay on, and burnt as far as just to the body, but had not taken hold
of the dead body (though she had little more than her shift on) and had
gone out of itself, not burning the rest of the house, though it was a
slight timber house. How true this might be I do not determine, but
the city being to suffer severely the next year by fire, this year it felt
very little of that calamity.
Indeed, considering the deliriums which the agony threw people