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    A Journal Of The Plague Year
    A Journal Of The Plague Year
    A Journal Of The Plague Year
    Ebook312 pages7 hours

    A Journal Of The Plague Year

    By Daniel Defoe

    3.5/5

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    Set against the backdrop of the Great Plague of London in the seventeenth century, Daniel Defoe’s classic novel, A Journal of the Plague Year, continues to be distinguished for its intense, honest, and realistic portrayal of the times. Over the course of a single year, the novel’s narrator examines events both political and personal, and comments on the social, political, economic, and human impact of the epidemic.

    Although originally read as non-fiction when it was published, A Journal of the Plague Year has over time been proven to be fiction, but is remarkable for its use of factual statistical analysis of the plague, and specific references to actual neighbourhoods and individual stories.

    HarperPerennial Classics brings great works of literature to life in digital format, upholding the highest standards in ebook production and celebrating reading in all its forms. Look for more titles in the HarperPerennial Classics collection to build your digital library.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHarperCollins
    Release dateJun 18, 2013
    ISBN9781443426503
    Author

    Daniel Defoe

    Daniel Defoe (1660-1731) was an English novelist, pamphleteer, journalist and political agent. He is best known for his novels Robinson Crusoe and Moll Flanders, and for his Journal of the Plague Year.

    Read more from Daniel Defoe

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    Reviews for A Journal Of The Plague Year

    3.5/5

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    • 3/5
      Kind of slow moving and repetitive in parts, not to mention long-winded. It was interesting, but I won't be rereading it.
    • 3/5
      This book contains the phrase "Bring out your dead". It also has a scene where a man is put alive onto the dead cart, at which he remarks "But I an't dead though, am I". If those aren't reason enough to read it, then I don't know what is. My understanding is that historians are unable to tell exactly where the line between truth and fiction lies. This edition is lightly modernised, which perhaps slightly spoils the effect of reading an original document but it is very cleverly written, as if by one who doesn't habitually write. He introduces the story of the three brothers several times before he actually tells it. Ultimately, I think the book is a victim of its own success as once the brothers' story is told it becomes repetitive and rather tiresome.
    • 4/5
      Some people reading this might think it is non-fiction, and Defoe strives to make it seem as if written by a guy who lived through the year 1665 in London. It seems pretty realistic and Defoe did research to make the book seem as factual as possible. The plague was a terrible affliction, and while many fled London there were many heroic people who stayed and kept the conditions from being much worse. The book is pretty didactic, but not disturbingly so. The language is kind of convoluted at times but when I finished the book I thought it well worth reading, even if during the reading it seemed heavy-handed at times. Defoe says the Great Fire of London, which occurred the next year--1666--was a blessing because it enabled many to have jobs after the economic disaster which was the plague.
    • 2/5
      Yep... Defoe's returns continue to diminish. This reminds me of Dostoevsky's 'House of the Dead,' since both books are absolutely riveting for the first 100 pages or so: you get an immediate impression of what it's like to live in a plague-ridden London (or Russian prison); you get drawn in by the odd 'life is stranger than fiction' moment, but then, before you know it, you're reading exactly the same thing two or even three times for no particular reason other than the narrator's inability to revise his own work. If you know much about the way plague was treated by the early moderns, you won't be surprised by too much here.

      This penguin edition has some things going for it, starting with an amazing cover illustration and ending with Anthony Burgess' old introduction which is now an appendix. I suspect that's there because Burgess does what an introducer ought to do: describes a bit about Defoe's life and times, a bit about the book you're about to read, and a very slight interpretation of that book (here: 'can we preserve the societies we build?') The editor of this volume, on the other hand, gives us a semi-rapturous 'analysis' of Defoe's use of 'place' in the book, which sounds interesting until you read the book and realize that it's utterly tendentious.

      Literary fashion is an odd beast- wouldn't it have made more sense to redo Roxana than to redo this?
    • 4/5
      World War Z long before it was written--a narrative description of the year the plague hit London--this novel was originally printed and accepted as a factual description of what was happening in the streets of London when plague came across the English Channel.
    • 3/5
      Daniel Defoe is a fascinating writer. He can write a marvelous melodrama and then create a novel that reads as if it is non-fiction. This fictional documentation of the great plague of 1665 in England is quite remarkable. Apparently some historians think it is better than actual documentation in its ability to convey the progression and social repercussions of this horrifying black death. He carefully lays out the slow unraveling of the societal fabric. He seems to say that fear and suffering result in chaos and irrational behavior. The desire to survive drives people to behave in ways they would not otherwise even consider or believe themselves capable of. I have to say that the power of this book seems, unfortunately, as relevant now as ever. With an Aids epidemic, Ebola epidemic, and threats of biological warfare in our lives, it is a pretty scary insight into the likely chain of events should some form of massive biological threat present itself. This was not a fun read, but very thought provoking.
    • 3/5
      I find it difficult to give this a rating not only because of what it is--a book that straddles the fiction/non-fiction line, written centuries ago--but also because of the reasons I read it. I wasn't looking for the story, but for insight into the time period, the science and the language and the people and the geography. It's part anecdote and part statistic, and it makes me wonder what it would have been like to be a contemporary reader of something like this, when it felt like an authentic representation of something that could conceivably happen again tomorrow and not a fictionalized account of something that we no longer fear...or if we do, not at all in the same way or context.
    • 4/5
      Despite its age, this is a well written, very readable account of the the 1665 Great Plague of London. Although in actuality just historical fiction, the account is accurate enough to provide the reader with a meaningful understanding of the event.My only complaint is that, by the second half of the book, DeFoe becomes mired in repetition, hence at times I found my attention waning.All in all, a very interesting account.
    • 4/5
      Defoe's fictionalized first-person account of plague in 17th-century London. Rivetting.
    • 5/5
      This is not an easy book to read. The reason is that Daniel has written the book in the style that was prevalent during his time. The sentences are lengthy and complicated. I would even use the word ‘convoluted’ to describe the sentence structure. Moreover, the book has not been broken into distinct chapters. Once you get past this hurdle, then you will find the book to be a fascinating one. It was written about 50 years after the great plague of London. I believe that he was a young boy at the time that the epidemic, and used the notes that one of his relatives left behind. He has described the scenes without much emotion and has avoided melodrama. Daniel Defoe’s descriptions of human behaviour during this period are revealing. I believe that they hold valuable lessons for us today. He has spoken about how the poor people crowded the streets in desperation; how astrologers and quacks took advantage of the people; the breakdown of trade; how the rich folk escaped to the countryside. It is now about 450 years since the days of the plague that ravaged London, yet human behaviour does not seem to have changed very much. I recommend this book to anyone interested in human behaviour, and anyone interested in the events of those dark days in London.
    • 4/5
      Well, I started reading this after the world was entering a shutdown because of the Covid19 disease caused by Corona virus. I just wondered what we might be able to learn from the previous experiences with pandemics. (I guess the black plague in London was not truly a world wide pandemic but the local impact would be similar to local impacts today). A few things stood out for me. One was that the epidemic moved across London ...more or less from suburb to suburb and didn't overwhelm the whole place at once. So some areas were free from the disease whilst others were overwhelmed. At it's peak there were around 12,000 people dying per week...maybe even up to 10,000 in one day. Niceties went out the window, People were unceremoniously dumped into mass graves.According to Defoe, the authorities actually did a pretty good job of managing the whole thing; burials were all done at night. the streets were cleaned. people with the plague were locked into their houses together with all the inhabitants and watchmen placed outside. Up to 20,000 watchmen were employed. And there were various levels of inspectors allocated to check that the rules wee being followed. But, according to Defoe , the whole policy of locking people int their homes was wrong. It was almost possible to police, many people broke out and escaped and spread the infection, and it condemned the healthy to live with the unhealthy and thus contract the disease. The rich escaped into the country at the start of the epidemic......leaving mainly the poor behind. The poor lost their livelihoods and would undertake any work ....hence there was never a shortage of people to run the death carts...even though they were most susceptible to catching the disease. The same with nurses to attend the sick. They really had no idea what was causing the plague but felt it was transmitted via the air in some way...and certainly by contact with the infected. Interestingly enough the famous cry "bring out your dead" accompanied by the ringing of a bell...I think....was along cited once in the whole book. There was actually a great deal of charity in terms of providing provisions for the poor and attending to the sick....especially in the early stages. The plague started in December 1664 ....reached its peak around August September 1665 and had almost disappeared by Feb 1666. (And then the great fire of London swept away much of the poor wooden dwellings and the home of the vector (rats and the rat flea). Also the virulence of the plague seemed to have declined as time went on so that by February, most people seemed to be recovering from the disease. Normally the time from the obvious signs of the disease ...black marks on the thigh or chest etc (buboes) ....to death...was very rapid:..... a couple of days. But the pain and torment was obviously very great....with some people throwing themselves, still alive, into the burial pits.One thing that struck me (and the author) was the number of "snake-oil" salesmen a soothsayers that appeared at the beginning of the plague...offering all sorts of protections and cures against the sickness. Of course, none worked and Defoe comments that all these people had disappeared at the end of the plague .......whether carried away by it or gone on to other scams elsewhere. International trade tended to disappear during this time. Other ports were reluctant to accept goods from London for fear of importing the plague and were reluctant to export to London for fear of acquiring it when they were there. Though of course there were various subterfuges .....sending goods to other ports in England and then re-exporting from there ....or passing the goods off as Dutch etc. Though there were grave penalties if caught. (And, rightly so, because of the consequences if plague was imported along with a cargo from London). Interestingly, many people lived on board ships moored in the Thames throughout the period. And some people.....notably Dutch families....sequestered themselves in their houses/compounds with supplies and never ventured out for the whole period. (Though this sounds a little hard to believe).There is one in treating story within the story of a group of 4 friends who broke out of the city with some tools and a tent and established themselves in the forest ...eventually meeting up with some similar people and also making some kind of rapprochement with local villagers and drawing on the charity of locals.Throughout, Defoe praises the Mayor, the aldermen and the civic leaders for their fairness and their governance. On the other hand is is rather scathing of the clergy...especially those of the Church of England who fled the city at the start and were not at all well received when they returned at the end of the plague. What can we learn from this for the current pandemic? Well a couple of things I think. Locking people into their houses wasn't a great policy and a better policy would have been to remove the sick to specialised "pest houses" ...maybe we should be removing people from self quarantine the moment they show any sort of flu symptoms. Exponential growth of deaths can rapidly overwhelm the social systems and cause extreme anti-social behaviour.....avoidance etc. If we have tests for Covid 19 we should be really utilising them.
    • 4/5
      The years 1665-1666 were rough for London. 1665 brought plague, and 1666 brought a city-wide fire. This book contains a fictionalized account of that plague year of 1665. Defoe, writing 50 years hence, constructed a narrative based upon research in journals from that era. In providing an account of these interesting times, this book provides several interesting interludes. Like the story of a naked Quaker who walked the streets. Or how the poor and city officers bravely attacked the disease to make the city function.

      It is always interesting to study British history through the lens of class. Ironically, the clergy and the well-to-do did not confront the illness with as much braveness as the lower classes. Although the poor suffered most from the disease (think of the close living quarters in pre-Industrial-Revolution London), they were less paralyzed by fear of the "distemper." Remember that people at that time did not know that the plague was caused by rats. They just knew that it was a "contagion" that was transmitted in an area. For all they knew, it was an act of God's displeasure upon London, not a relatively random event in the history of bacteria!

      Fear, courage, and madness are all on display in this dystopian tale. One cannot help but wonder how modern London would respond to a similar crisis. We have record of an Ebola outbreak in recent years in Africa to compare to. That public health crisis was not handled too well by the international community. Fortunately, London now has a public health system that can respond to emergent outbreaks with speed and skill. Perhaps that prevention is the lesson of the plague year for us. We do not suffer these kind of events commonly because we attend to their prevention in the early stages of problems. What of our problems will those 300 years from now read and wonder about in the pages of our literature? One can only dream...
    • 3/5
      Kind of slow moving and repetitive in parts, not to mention long-winded. It was interesting, but I won't be rereading it.
    • 3/5
      This was first published in 1722 and purports to be a true account of the Great Plague, which took place in 1665. However, the events described were not personally experienced by Defoe, who was a small child during the plague. Apparently, Defoe got his information from his uncle, Henry Foe, H.F. The language is of course that of the time in which the book was written but nonetheless is clearly understandable; the main difference from our modern language was that the nouns began with a capital letter, as in German, and the spelling of some words was slightly different. Defoe has precise knowledge of the areas of London and the various streets are continually referred to in the book. The narrator tells individual stories of those taken sick and who died, and the various frightening occurrences. An “inward Gangreen” could affect people’s “Vitals” so that they suddenly died on the streets with no warning. There were “dead-carts” that drove round and picked up bodies and dumped them together in large graves. There were many dismal scenes, including “”terrible Shrieks and Shreekings of Women”. The infected had violent pain from swellings, and “Physicians and Surgeons – tortured many poor Creatures, even to Death”. These physicians would apply “”drawing Plasters, or Pultices”” to break hard swellings or “cut and scarified them in a terrible Manner”. Many “died raving mad with the Torment””. When people were known to be infected, they were locked into their houses so they could not get out, though family and friends were permitted to come with food for them; sometimes no-one came. A watchman was placed outside these houses day and night; sometimes people broke out by force or escaped through some back entrance. It was mostly the poor that died of the plague since the rich had the means and opportunity to escape London and move into the country, The narrator informs us that nothing was more fatal than the negligence of the people themelves who had adequate warning of the “Visitation” but failed to lay in a store of provisions or other necessaries. “”This Necessity of going out of our Houses to buy Provisions, was in a great Measure the Ruin of the whole City, for the People catch’d the Distemper, on those Occasions one of another”. I did not get through the book since it became somewhat repetitive. It certainly seemed to be a plausible and true account of the Great Plague. There is a glossary, but I did not feel required to use it.
    • 3/5
      Many consciences were awakened; many hard hearts melted into tears; many a penitent confession was made of crimes long concealed. It would wound the soul of any Christian to have heard the dying groans of many a despairing creature, and none durst come near to comfort them. Many a robbery, many a murder, was then confessed aloud, and nobody surviving to record the accounts of it.When A Journal of the Plague Year was first published in 1722 as the "Observations and Memorials" of a "citizen" who called himself "H.F.," readers accepted it as the real journal of a survivor of the London plague of 1665. That's not surprising, given the book's attention to detail, including tables of casualties for different geographical areas. One of the book's greatest strengths is its feeling of authenticity. Over time, however, it was revealed that the author was actually Daniel Defoe, who was only five years old during the outbreak, and who therefore could not have written his own first-hand account of the plague. Though it reads like an authentic journal, it is actually a well researched work of historical fiction, probably based on the journal of Defoe's uncle, Henry Foe.A Journal of the Plague Year is one of those books that is more interesting to me as a literary artifact than as a book in its own right. What I mean is, I can appreciate its importance in the development of fiction, but beyond that it did not mean much to me. It's also the second book I've read in the last twelve months that describes the effects of the plague on a town, the first being Manzoni's The Betrothed, which dealt with the Milan plague of 1630.Not a bad read, but not something that I plan on rereading again.
    • 4/5
      Because 300 years later, so little has changed...
    • 3/5
      Pretty much at every step we match the behaviour of people from 17th century to the point that makes you think that human society has only evolved superficially and underneath the obvious modernity of air travel, vaccines and instant communication is the same herd of clueless and lost apes. China even put padlocks on people's houses. Let's hope we don't also copy the great fire of London idea.
    • 4/5
      A fascinating look at London in 1665, when the bubonic plague swept through the city. Reading it in New York City during the 2020 COVID-19 pandemic was especially enlightening, as one can see so many similarities. Hoarding supplies, fleeing the cities for country homes, self-isolation, all of these things were happening in the London pandemic over 300 years ago. There is even the "double-peak" we hear so much about today, where cases start to go on the decline, quarantine restrictions are lifted so people start mingling again, and we see a second wave of infections, albeit not quite as high as the first.

      Highly recommended, especially if you want to see how human behavior hasn't changed in the intervening three-and-a-half centuries.
    • 4/5
      We all learnt of the 1665 Black Death in school- "Bring out your dead"; plague pits, infected houses marked....but what was it LIKE living through it? What were the feelings, the responses, of the people?This is an absolutely FASCINATING social document, visiting topics I'd never really pondered.Daniel Defoe was only 5 at the time; he seems to have re-worked notes kept by his Uncle Henry Foe, who lived through it, unscathed, after ignoring advice and remaining in the city.A recurrent theme is Defoe's conviction that the state policy of barricading an infected family (the healthy along with the dying)in their home, with a guard on the door, did no good at all. He tells of much dissimulation, so that the authorities shouldnt find out; of people fleeing (and spreading the disease far afield) for fear of being so confined.Many who could escape did so...though patrols began preventing outsiders from entering the parish and possibly infecting them. Many were living rough in tents throughout that summer (it reached a crescendo in Aug/Sep).Religion and sundry dire prognostications became more important. Defoe observes an eradication of usual religious differences as Dissenting ministers stepped into the breach to hold services for other sects (their own priests having died or fled.)Terror and trauma naturally abound; suicides of those who realise the tell tale signs of the "distemper".Defoe considers the govt to have done a pretty good job at ensuring constant food; at ensuring the burials were done promptly and at night. A lot of donations were received- though with the economy almost shot, there was much need of it.And, with the realisation by the late autumn, that it was on the way out, an imprudent rush to resume normal living.When youve read this, you realise more strongly than ever, that whatever covid is, it assuredly ISNT any kind of pandemic!!
    • 2/5
      I didn't enjoy this book. When I am given a novel, I want strong characters. This was a book about a thing (the plague); not so much about people. Once in a while, we get glimpse of someone (e.g. the man bringing provisions to people living on boats) but then we'd be back to data tables. To be generous, though, this book is an early example of historical fiction. It was introducing a new genre. And it does paint a vivid picture of London's streets. It was interesting to note the many similarities and differences between the Plague and Covid-19. Diseases mutate and learn much faster than people!
    • 4/5
      With Ebola outbreaks on the news and debates on vaccinations on every blog, it seemed like a perfect time to return to one of the original records of a disease outbreak. I was particularly curious to read this book because it was mentioned multiple times in “On Immunity”. The author of Robinson Crusoe wrote this fictionalized account of a man who lives through the bubonic plague in England in 1665. Defoe was only 5-years-old at that time, but his account is considered one of the most accurate ones of the plague. Defoe looks at the plague through the eyes of one man. He’s forced to decide if he should stay or go when the outbreak begins. So many people fled, but some didn’t realize they had already been infected. They carried the plague with them to other towns. Some people who were sick would throw themselves into the pits of the dead and wait their death out. The book is surprisingly interesting for a nonfiction account written centuries ago. Defoe talked about the actually details of how the outbreak was handle. For example, when one person in a family got sick, the rest of the family was kept in their house with a guard posted out front or other times they were all sent to the sick house, where they often became infected even if they weren’t sick before. Random Tidbits: The scene from “Monty Python and the Search for the Holy Grail” where they are yelling out “Bring out your dead!” was a real thing. People went around with carts and actually yelled that out to collect the dead bodies. The standard of burying people six feet under was also established at this point. It used to be a very arbitrary depth before the plague.BOTTOM LINE: It’s less about the plague itself than it is about the study of a society in duress. It was fascinating to see the different ways people reacted. Their fight or flight tendencies haven’t changed much over the last 300 years.
    • 5/5
      Reading this in 2020 is like knowing that we've been here before. I got to know this book via the appendices before even starting the volume which gave me a good grounding on what to expect. Because seriously, I never would have wanted to read this book until now. And I cannot recommend it enough.There are charlatans called out for peddling false cures. There are sick people stuck in their homes to prevent the rest of the City from getting the Plague. There are people who don't know they're sick who go about their business until they literally fall down dead. There are people who don't want to abide by the new law to stay in their homes, so they leave to go about their business, or go into the countryside. Whether they infect others is determined by where they were in the City when the Plague hit. There are people who turn to religion with a depth that they had not had before. And there are dead carts.It is a series of observations, not a full narrative of events. Although there are two or three "stories" in here (a trio of brothers, a waterman who struggles to feed his family locked in their home), the vast majority of the pages are full of anecdotes, observations, and lists of the numbers of dead. What is fascinating is how the Plague started by one merchant from the Low Countries who arrives, not knowing he is infected, and the Plague moves from West to East. Were I not living now, I would never have known the importance of such a detail.
    • 3/5
      This book reads more like a documentary than a novel, although Dafoe was 5 or 6 when the great plague hit London. Statistics and history are interspersed with more specific stories of people escaping or attempting to escape the ravages of the disease, and the adherence or lack of adherence to what were presumed to be safety measures. Not much has changed. The work dates to 1722, and the complicated writing style, combined with a lack of chapters, made it a little difficult to read. But I highlighted a lot of passages to think about in light of our current predicament.
    • 4/5
      Daniel Defoe, while only five when the plague ravaged London in 1665, writes a first hand fictional narrative of a citizen who remained in the city throughout the pestilence based upon parish/church records and personal accounts. The telling is consumed with misery, yet I was surprised at how well government officials were able to keep order during such an extreme and uncontrollable calamity. Many well-off families fled to the countryside leaving behind a primarily poor populace. The government, church, and private citizens donated significant funds to provide necessities for those without thus preventing riots. The redonk amount of dead were buried by and the even more numerous sick were cared for by the poor. Defoe details many attempts to escape, alleviate, and contain the disease by city officials acting on the advice of respected physicians and by quacks looking to make a quick profit - largely to no avail. I was, however, impressed with the level of understanding the physicians had of the disease. If a similar scenario occurred today, I believe we would be fucked since the populace was largely controlled by their resignation to God's fury.
    • 3/5
      A rambling account of the London plague of 1665, repetitious and at times rather dry - but nonetheless a fascinating insight into the disaster. Includes death figures from the bills, anecdotes and rumours, opinion and contradictions, and is at times (unwittingly?) funny. With the constant references to the infected, I couldn't help but reread the plague as a zombie apocalypse - ironically, the account bears this rather well.
    • 3/5
      I must admit to a morbid fascination with accounts of natural disasters, harrowing exploration tales and historical plagues. This ostensibly first-hand account of the 1665 visitation of the Black Death upon London, written by Daniel DeFoe, certainly fits nicely into that genre. I say “ostensibly”, because while Defoe was alive at the time of the event, he was a very young child and wrote this work in 1722. Therefore, while we can be assured that many of the accounts therein are largely accurate, it would be stretch to label it as strictly non-fiction.This is not a spellbinding or even captivating read. It is full of statistics and seemingly never ending references to specific neighborhoods and precincts as existed in London at the time. Much of the book is taken up with body counts and comparisons of mortality from time to time in the different areas of London and its environs. As most people have no geographic knowledge of the area, this is largely wasted, except to realize that, “Gee, a lot of people died in Whiteside, but not so many in Wapping.”Sprinkled throughout this relatively short work (under 200 dense pages), are interesting anecdotes, and this is the beauty of the book; the actions and reactions of everyday people to the scourge within their midst. How did the authorities address the problem? What was the medical knowledge and prevailing treatments as existed at the time? What did people in London do when commerce and society effectively broke down? What did they do to acquire food? How were the bodies disposed of? All intriguing and practical questions that are asked and answered herein.Given the factual and dry nature of most of the prose, coupled with the early 18th century writing style, I cannot recommend this work to the casual reader or one looking strictly for entertainment or to pass the time. Even an aficionado of the genre will likely be hard pressed to profess an unreserved endorsement of the book as anything other than what it is; a dry, at times enlightening, account of the Black Death’s impact on the city and citizens of London, written in close proximity to the event itself.
    • 4/5
      My reactions upon reading this in 1990.I expected a more straight forward, organized narrative full of more anecdotes and not any references to what public policy and private behavior should be in the next plague epidemic. I found Defoe's narrative disorganized. (As the critic points out in the introduction, this leads versimilitude to an ostensible common man's journal, but it's not really planned -- just a feature of Defoe's rushed, first-person style.). Defoe never really seems to make up his mind whether it was a good idea to quarantine plague victims in their homes. On the other hand, Defoe gives us some compelling anecdotes of the plague and a balanced portrait of the good and evil of government and private responses to the epidemic. It's also interesting to see Defoe's mind grapple with some questions: is it faithless to flee London or is it wrong not to do all to save oneself? It's interesting to see Defoe try to reconcile the contemporary theory of the plague's infectiousness with how it actually spread. And it's interesting to see, in passing, a reference to some of the doctors of the time believing that the plague is due to "living Creatures ... seen by a microscope of strange monstrous and frightful Shapes." But Defoe says he doubts this, a glimmering of the bacteriological theory of disease.
    • 2/5
      Gave up. Boring. Not a fan of journalistic-style fiction, really.
    • 4/5
      Although ostensibly fiction, this is very much written as a non-fictional memoir of one man's experiences during the Great Plague of 1665 (who signs off at the end as H F - Defoe himself was only five years old when the plague happened). Defoe usually calls it "distemper" rather than "plague". The full gamut of human emotions and experiences are revealed in this slightly rambling, but very human narrative. You get a real feeling of colourful incident and emotion, but there are a lot of statistics as well. Good stuff. 4/5
    • 3/5
      An interesting and believable account of the plague of 1665. It's difficult to be sure how much is fact and how much fiction, but it feels like it's based on a true account.Some of the interesting things are the effect of the plague on the businesses and trades, and the measures put in place by the Mayor and magistrates to give work and distribute alms which did a lot to reduce the problem and may have prevented a riot.It's a bit repetitive in places, with the same point often being made a few times. The lack of chapters also makes it more difficult to read than would otherwise be the case.

    Book preview

    A Journal Of The Plague Year - Daniel Defoe

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    A Journal of the Plague Year

    Daniel Defoe

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    CONTENTS

    Cover

    Title Page

    History of the Plague in London

    About the Author

    About the Series

    Copyright

    About the Publisher

    History of the Plague in London

    It was about the beginning of September, 1664, that I, among the rest of my neighbours, heard in ordinary discourse that the plague was returned again in Holland; for it had been very violent there, and particularly at Amsterdam and Rotterdam, in the year 1663, whither, they say, it was brought, some said from Italy, others from the Levant, among some goods which were brought home by their Turkey fleet; others said it was brought from Candia; others from Cyprus. It mattered not from whence it came; but all agreed it was come into Holland again.

    We had no such thing as printed newspapers in those days to spread rumours and reports of things, and to improve them by the invention of men, as I have lived to see practised since. But such things as these were gathered from the letters of merchants and others who corresponded abroad, and from them was handed about by word of mouth only; so that things did not spread instantly over the whole nation, as they do now. But it seems that the Government had a true account of it, and several councils were held about ways to prevent its coming over; but all was kept very private. Hence it was that this rumour died off again, and people began to forget it as a thing we were very little concerned in, and that we hoped was not true; till the latter end of November or the beginning of December 1664 when two men, said to be Frenchmen, died of the plague in Long Acre, or rather at the upper end of Drury Lane. The family they were in endeavoured to conceal it as much as possible, but as it had gotten some vent in the discourse of the neighbourhood, the Secretaries of State got knowledge of it; and concerning themselves to inquire about it, in order to be certain of the truth, two physicians and a surgeon were ordered to go to the house and make inspection. This they did; and finding evident tokens of the sickness upon both the bodies that were dead, they gave their opinions publicly that they died of the plague. Whereupon it was given in to the parish clerk, and he also returned them to the Hall; and it was printed in the weekly bill of mortality in the usual manner, thus—

    Plague: 2

    Parishes Infected: 1

    The people showed a great concern at this, and began to be alarmed all over the town, and the more, because in the last week in December 1664 another man died in the same house, and of the same distemper. And then we were easy again for about six weeks, when none having died with any marks of infection, it was said the distemper was gone; but after that, I think it was about the 12th of February, another died in another house, but in the same parish and in the same manner.

    This turned the people’s eyes pretty much towards that end of the town, and the weekly bills showing an increase of burials in St. Giles’s parish more than usual, it began to be suspected that the plague was among the people at that end of the town, and that many had died of it, though they had taken care to keep it as much from the knowledge of the public as possible. This possessed the heads of the people very much, and few cared to go through Drury Lane, or the other streets suspected, unless they had extraordinary business that obliged them to it

    This increase of the bills stood thus: the usual number of burials in a week, in the parishes of St. Giles-in-the-Fields and St. Andrew’s, Holborn, were from twelve to seventeen or nineteen each, few more or less; but from the time that the plague first began in St. Giles’s parish, it was observed that the ordinary burials increased in number considerably. For example:—

    From December 27th to January 3rd

    St. Giles’s: 16

    St. Andrew’s: 17

    January 3rd to January 10th

    St. Giles’s: 12

    St. Andrew’s: 25

    January 10th to January 17th

    St. Giles’s: 18

    St. Andrew’s: 28

    January 17th to January 24th

    St. Giles’s: 23

    St. Andrew’s: 16

    January 30th to February 7th

    St. Giles’s: 21

    St. Andrew’s: 23

    February 7th to February 14th

    St. Giles’s: 24

    Whereof one of the plague.

    The like increase of the bills was observed in the parishes of St. Bride’s, adjoining on one side of Holborn parish, and in the parish of St. James, Clerkenwell, adjoining on the other side of Holborn; in both which parishes the usual numbers that died weekly were from four to six or eight, whereas at that time they were increased as follows:—

    From December 20th to December 27th

    St. Bride’s: 0

    St. James’s: 8

    From December 27th to January 3rd

    St. Bride’s: 6

    St. James’s: 9

    From January 3rd to January 10th

    St. Bride’s: 11

    St. James’s: 7

    From January 10th to January 17th

    St. Bride’s: 12

    St. James’s: 9

    From January 17th to January 24th

    St. Bride’s: 9

    St. James’s: 15

    From January 24th to January 31st

    St. Bride’s: 8

    St. James’s: 12

    From January 31st to February 7th

    St. Bride’s: 13

    St. James’s: 5

    From February 7th to January 14th

    St. Bride’s: 12

    St. James’s: 6

    Besides this, it was observed with great uneasiness by the people that the weekly bills in general increased very much during these weeks, although it was at a time of the year when usually the bills are very moderate.

    The usual number of burials within the bills of mortality for a week was from about 240 or thereabouts to 300. The last was esteemed a pretty high bill; but after this we found the bills successively increasing as follows:—

    December the 20th to the 27th

    Buried: 291.

    December 27th to January 3rd

    Buried: 349. Increased: 58.

    January 3rd to January 10th

    Buried: 394. Increased: 45.

    January 10th to January 17th

    Buried: 415. Increased: 21.

    January 17th to January 24th

    Buried: 474. Increased: 59.

    This last bill was really frightful, being a higher number than had been known to have been buried in one week since the preceding visitation of 1656.

    However, all this went off again, and the weather proving cold, and the frost, which began in December, still continuing very severe even till near the end of February, attended with sharp though moderate winds, the bills decreased again, and the city grew healthy, and everybody began to look upon the danger as good as over; only that still the burials in St. Giles’s continued high. From the beginning of April especially they stood at twenty-five each week, till the week from the 18th to the 25th, when there was buried in St. Giles’s parish thirty, whereof two of the plague and eight of the spotted-fever, which was looked upon as the same thing; likewise the number that died of the spotted-fever in the whole increased, being eight the week before, and twelve the week above-named.

    This alarmed us all again, and terrible apprehensions were among the people, especially the weather being now changed and growing warm, and the summer being at hand. However, the next week there seemed to be some hopes again; the bills were low, the number of the dead in all was but 388, there was none of the plague, and but four of the spotted-fever.

    But the following week it returned again, and the distemper was spread into two or three other parishes, viz., St. Andrew’s, Holborn; St. Clement Danes; and, to the great affliction of the city, one died within the walls, in the parish of St. Mary Woolchurch, that is to say, in Bearbinder Lane, near Stocks Market; in all there were nine of the plague and six of the spotted-fever. It was, however, upon inquiry found that this Frenchman who died in Bearbinder Lane was one who, having lived in Long Acre, near the infected houses, had removed for fear of the distemper, not knowing that he was already infected.

    This was the beginning of May, yet the weather was temperate, variable, and cool enough, and people had still some hopes. That which encouraged them was that the city was healthy: the whole ninety-seven parishes buried but fifty-four, and we began to hope that, as it was chiefly among the people at that end of the town, it might go no farther; and the rather, because the next week, which was from the 9th of May to the 16th, there died but three, of which not one within the whole city or liberties; and St. Andrew’s buried but fifteen, which was very low. ’Tis true St. Giles’s buried two-and-thirty, but still, as there was but one of the plague, people began to be easy. The whole bill also was very low, for the week before the bill was but 347, and the week above mentioned but 343. We continued in these hopes for a few days, but it was but for a few, for the people were no more to be deceived thus; they searched the houses and found that the plague was really spread every way, and that many died of it every day. So that now all our extenuations abated, and it was no more to be concealed; nay, it quickly appeared that the infection had spread itself beyond all hopes of abatement. That in the parish of St. Giles it was gotten into several streets, and several families lay all sick together; and, accordingly, in the weekly bill for the next week the thing began to show itself. There was indeed but fourteen set down of the plague, but this was all knavery and collusion, for in St. Giles’s parish they buried forty in all, whereof it was certain most of them died of the plague, though they were set down of other distempers; and though the number of all the burials were not increased above thirty-two, and the whole bill being but 385, yet there was fourteen of the spotted-fever, as well as fourteen of the plague; and we took it for granted upon the whole that there were fifty died that week of the plague.

    The next bill was from the 23rd of May to the 30th, when the number of the plague was seventeen. But the burials in St. Giles’s were fifty-three—a frightful number!—of whom they set down but nine of the plague; but on an examination more strictly by the justices of peace, and at the Lord Mayor’s request, it was found there were twenty more who were really dead of the plague in that parish, but had been set down of the spotted-fever or other distempers, besides others concealed.

    But those were trifling things to what followed immediately after; for now the weather set in hot, and from the first week in June the infection spread in a dreadful manner, and the bills rose high; the articles of the fever, spotted-fever, and teeth began to swell; for all that could conceal their distempers did it, to prevent their neighbours shunning and refusing to converse with them, and also to prevent authority shutting up their houses; which, though it was not yet practised, yet was threatened, and people were extremely terrified at the thoughts of it.

    The second week in June, the parish of St. Giles, where still the weight of the infection lay, buried 120, whereof though the bills said but sixty-eight of the plague, everybody said there had been 100 at least, calculating it from the usual number of funerals in that parish, as above.

    Till this week the city continued free, there having never any died, except that one Frenchman whom I mentioned before, within the whole ninety-seven parishes. Now there died four within the city, one in Wood Street, one in Fenchurch Street, and two in Crooked Lane. Southwark was entirely free, having not one yet died on that side of the water.

    I lived without Aldgate, about midway between Aldgate Church and Whitechappel Bars, on the left hand or north side of the street; and as the distemper had not reached to that side of the city, our neighbourhood continued very easy. But at the other end of the town their consternation was very great: and the richer sort of people, especially the nobility and gentry from the west part of the city, thronged out of town with their families and servants in an unusual manner; and this was more particularly seen in Whitechappel; that is to say, the Broad Street where I lived; indeed, nothing was to be seen but wagons and carts, with goods, women, servants, children, etc.; coaches filled with people of the better sort and horsemen attending them, and all hurrying away; then empty wagons and carts appeared, and spare horses with servants, who, it was apparent, were returning or sent from the countries to fetch more people; besides innumerable numbers of men on horseback, some alone, others with servants, and, generally speaking, all loaded with baggage and fitted out for travelling, as anyone might perceive by their appearance.

    This was a very terrible and melancholy thing to see, and as it was a sight which I could not but look on from morning to night (for indeed there was nothing else of moment to be seen), it filled me with very serious thoughts of the misery that was coming upon the city, and the unhappy condition of those that would be left in it.

    This hurry of the people was such for some weeks that there was no getting at the Lord Mayor’s door without exceeding difficulty; there were such pressing and crowding there to get passes and certificates of health for such as travelled abroad, for without these there was no being admitted to pass through the towns upon the road, or to lodge in any inn. Now, as there had none died in the city for all this time, my Lord Mayor gave certificates of health without any difficulty to all those who lived in the ninety-seven parishes, and to those within the liberties too for a while.

    This hurry, I say, continued some weeks, that is to say, all the month of May and June, and the more because it was rumoured that an order of the Government was to be issued out to place turnpikes and barriers on the road to prevent people travelling, and that the towns on the road would not suffer people from London to pass for fear of bringing the infection along with them, though neither of these rumours had any foundation but in the imagination, especially at first.

    I now began to consider seriously with myself concerning my own case, and how I should dispose of myself; that is to say, whether I should resolve to stay in London or shut up my house and flee, as many of my neighbours did. I have set this particular down so fully, because I know not but it may be of moment to those who come after me, if they come to be brought to the same distress, and to the same manner of making their choice; and therefore I desire this account may pass with them rather for a direction to themselves to act by than a history of my actings, seeing it may not he of one farthing value to them to note what became of me.

    I had two important things before me: the one was the carrying on my business and shop, which was considerable, and in which was embarked all my effects in the world; and the other was the preservation of my life in so dismal a calamity as I saw apparently was coming upon the whole city, and which, however great it was, my fears perhaps, as well as other people’s, represented to be much greater than it could be.

    The first consideration was of great moment to me; my trade was a saddler, and as my dealings were chiefly not by a shop or chance trade, but among the merchants trading to the English colonies in America, so my effects lay very much in the hands of such. I was a single man, ’tis true, but I had a family of servants whom I kept at my business; had a house, shop, and warehouses filled with goods; and, in short, to leave them all as things in such a case must be left (that is to say, without any overseer or person fit to be trusted with them), had been to hazard the loss not only of my trade, but of my goods, and indeed of all I had in the world.

    I had an elder brother at the same time in London, and not many years before come over from Portugal: and advising with him, his answer was in three words, the same that was given in another case quite different, viz., ‘Master, save thyself.’ In a word, he was for my retiring into the country, as he resolved to do himself with his family; telling me what he had, it seems, heard abroad, that the best preparation for the plague was to run away from it. As to my argument of losing my trade, my goods, or debts, he quite confuted me. He told me the same thing which I argued for my staying, viz., that I would trust God with my safety and health, was the strongest repulse to my pretensions of losing my trade and my goods; ‘for,’ says he, ‘is it not as reasonable that you should trust God with the chance or risk of losing your trade, as that you should stay in so eminent a point of danger, and trust Him with your life?’

    I could not argue that I was in any strait as to a place where to go, having several friends and relations in Northamptonshire, whence our family first came from; and particularly, I had an only sister in Lincolnshire, very willing to receive and entertain me.

    My brother, who had already sent his wife and two children into Bedfordshire, and resolved to follow them, pressed my going very earnestly; and I had once resolved to comply with his desires, but at that time could get no horse; for though it is true all the people did not go out of the city of London, yet I may venture to say that in a manner all the horses did; for there was hardly a horse to be bought or hired in the whole city for some weeks. Once I resolved to travel on foot with one servant, and, as many did, lie at no inn, but carry a soldier’s tent with us, and so lie in the fields, the weather being very warm, and no danger from taking cold. I say, as many did, because several did so at last, especially those who had been in the armies in the war which had not been many years past; and I must needs say that, speaking of second causes, had most of the people that travelled done so, the plague had not been carried into so many country towns and houses as it was, to the great damage, and indeed to the ruin, of abundance of people.

    But then my servant, whom I had intended to take down with me, deceived me; and being frightened at the increase of the distemper, and not knowing when I should go, he took other measures, and left me, so I was put off for that time; and, one way or other, I always found that to appoint to go away was always crossed by some accident or other, so as to disappoint and put it off again; and this brings in a story which otherwise might be thought a needless digression, viz., about these disappointments being from Heaven.

    I mention this story also as the best method I can advise any person to take in such a case, especially if he be one that makes conscience of his duty, and would be directed what to do in it, namely, that he should keep his eye upon the particular providences which occur at that time, and look upon them complexly, as they regard one another, and as all together regard the question before him: and then, I think, he may safely take them for intimations from Heaven of what is his unquestioned duty to do in such a case; I mean as to going away from or staying in the place where we dwell, when visited with an infectious distemper.

    It came very warmly into my mind one morning, as I was musing on this particular thing, that as nothing attended us without the direction or permission of Divine Power, so these disappointments must have something in them extraordinary; and I ought to consider whether it did not evidently point out, or intimate to me, that it was the will of Heaven I should not go. It immediately followed in my thoughts, that if it really was from God that I should stay, He was able effectually to preserve me in the midst of all the death and danger that would surround me; and that if I attempted to secure myself by fleeing from my habitation, and acted contrary to these intimations, which I believe to be Divine, it was a kind of flying from God, and that He could cause His justice to overtake me when and where He thought fit.

    These thoughts quite turned my resolutions again, and when I came to discourse with my brother again I told him that I inclined to stay and take my lot in that station in which God had placed me, and that it seemed to be made more especially my duty, on the account of what I have said.

    My brother, though a very religious man himself, laughed at all I had suggested about its being an intimation from Heaven, and told me several stories of such foolhardy people, as he called them, as I was; that I ought indeed to submit to it as a work of Heaven if I had been any way disabled by distempers or diseases, and that then not being able to go, I ought to acquiesce in the direction of Him, who, having been my Maker, had an undisputed right of sovereignty in disposing of me, and that then there had been no difficulty to determine which was the call of His providence and which was not; but that I should take it as an intimation from Heaven that I should not go out of town, only because I could not hire a horse to go, or my fellow was run away that was to attend me, was ridiculous, since at the time I had my health and limbs, and other servants, and might with ease travel a day or two on foot, and having a good certificate of being in perfect health, might either hire a horse or take post on the road, as I thought fit.

    Then he proceeded to tell me of the mischievous consequences which attended the presumption of the Turks and Mahometans in Asia and in other places where he had been (for my brother, being a merchant, was a few years before, as I have already observed, returned from abroad, coming last from Lisbon), and how, presuming upon their professed predestinating notions, and of every man’s end being predetermined and unalterably beforehand decreed, they would go unconcerned into infected places and converse with infected persons, by which means they died at the rate of ten or fifteen thousand a week, whereas the Europeans or Christian merchants, who kept themselves retired and reserved, generally escaped the contagion.

    Upon these arguments my brother changed my resolutions again, and I began to resolve to go, and accordingly made all things ready; for, in short, the infection increased round me, and the bills were risen to almost seven hundred a week, and my brother told me he would venture to stay no longer. I desired him to let me consider of it but till the next day, and I would resolve: and as I had already prepared everything as well as I could as to my business, and whom to entrust my affairs with, I had little to do but to resolve.

    I went home that evening greatly oppressed in my mind, irresolute, and not knowing what to do. I had set the evening wholly—apart to consider seriously about it, and was all alone; for already people had, as it were by a general consent, taken up the custom of not going out of doors after sunset; the reasons I shall have occasion to say more of by-and-by.

    In the retirement of this evening I endeavoured to resolve, first, what was my duty to do, and I stated the arguments with which my brother had pressed me to go into the country, and I set, against them the strong impressions which I had on my mind for staying; the visible call I seemed to have from the particular circumstance of my calling, and the care due from me for the preservation of my effects, which were, as I might say, my estate; also the intimations which I thought I had from Heaven, that to me signified a kind of direction to venture; and it occurred to me that if I had what I might call a direction to stay, I ought to suppose it contained a promise of being preserved if I obeyed.

    This lay close to me, and my mind seemed more and more encouraged to stay than ever, and supported with a secret satisfaction that I should be kept. Add to this, that, turning over the Bible which lay before me, and while my thoughts were more than ordinarily serious upon the question, I cried out, ‘Well, I know not what to do; Lord, direct me I’ and the like; and at that juncture I happened to stop turning over the book at the gist Psalm, and casting my eye on the second verse, I read on to the seventh verse exclusive, and after that included the tenth, as follows: ‘I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God, in Him will I trust. Surely He shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence. He shall cover thee with His feathers, and under His wings shalt thou trust: His truth shall be thy shield and buckler. Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day; nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness; nor for the destruction that wasteth at noonday. A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee. Only with thine eyes shalt thou behold and see the reward of the wicked. Because thou hast made the Lord, which is my refuge, even the most High, thy habitation; there shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling,’ etc.

    I scarce need tell the reader that from that moment I resolved that I would stay in the town, and casting myself entirely upon the goodness and protection of the Almighty, would not seek any other shelter whatever; and that, as my times were in His hands, He was as able to keep me in a time of the infection as in a time of health; and if He did not think fit to deliver me, still I was in His hands, and it was meet He should do with me as should seem good to Him.

    With this resolution I went to bed; and I was further confirmed in it the next day by the woman being taken ill with whom I had intended to entrust my house and all my affairs. But I had a further obligation laid on me on the same side, for the next day I found myself very much out of order also, so that if I would have gone away,

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