A Journal of the Plague Year

A Journal of the Plague Year

by Daniel Defoe
A Journal of the Plague Year

A Journal of the Plague Year

by Daniel Defoe

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Overview

Defoe’s gripping fictionalized account of the plague that racked seventeenth-century London

The year is 1665 and the plague has come to London. The air is heavy with death, the body count is rising, and the death carts are filling quickly. Our unflinching eyewitness narrator, HF, recounts the gruesome realities of life in a city overrun by the Black Death. Terror and hysteria seize the city as disease runs rampant.

Blending fiction with journalism, Defoe re-creates the plague in all its horrifying detail. First published in 1722, A Journal of the Plague Year is one of the most chilling accounts of the plague ever written.

This ebook has been professionally proofread to ensure accuracy and readability on all devices.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781497684188
Publisher: Open Road Media
Publication date: 01/27/2015
Sold by: Barnes & Noble
Format: eBook
Pages: 192
Sales rank: 434,089
File size: 3 MB

About the Author

About The Author
Daniel Defoe (c. 1660–1731) was an English merchant, author, and political pamphleteer best known for the classic adventure novel Robinson Crusoe.
Daniel Defoe (c. 1660–1731) was an English merchant, author, and political pamphleteer best known for the classic adventure novel Robinson Crusoe.

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A Journal of the Plague Year


By Daniel Defoe

OPEN ROAD INTEGRATED MEDIA

Copyright © 2015 Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4976-8418-8


CHAPTER 1

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 27 to January 3 { St Giles's 16
" { St Andrew's 17
"
January 3 " " 10 { St Giles's 12
" { St Andrew's 25
"
January 10 " " 17 { St Giles's 18
" { St Andrew's 28
"
January 17 " " 24 { St Giles's 23
" { St Andrew's 16

January 24 " " 31 { St Giles's 24
" { St Andrew's 15
"
January 30 " February 7 { St Giles's 21
" { St Andrew's 23
"
February 7 "
" 14 { St Giles's 24


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 20 to December 27 { St Bride's 0
" { St James's 8
" December 27 to January 3 { St Bride's 6
" { St James's 9
" January 3 " " 10 { St Bride's 11
" { St James's 7
" January 10 " " 17 { St Bride's 12
" { St James's 9
" January 17 " " 24 { St Bride's 9
" { St James's 15
" January 24 " " 31 { St Bride's 8
" { St James's 12
" January 31 " February 7 { St Bride's 13
" { St James's 5
" February 7 " " 14 { 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:—

Buried. Increased.
December the 20th to the 27th     291
...
"
" 27th " 3rd January     349
58
January the 3rd " 10th "     394
45
"
" 10th " 17th "     415
21
"
" 17th " 24th "     474
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 waggons and carts, with goods, women, servants, children, &c.; coaches filled with people of the better sort and horsemen attending them, and all hurrying away; then empty waggons 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 be 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.


(Continues...)

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All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Table of Contents

A Journal of the Plague YearChronology
Introduction
Notes
Further Reading
A Note on the Text

A Journal of the Plague Year

Appendix I: The Plague
Appendix II: Topographical Index
Appendix III: London Maps
Appendix IV: Introduction by Anthony Burgess to the 1966 Penguin English Library Edition
Glossary
Notes

Introduction

When the narrator of Daniel Defoe's A Journal of the Plague Year (1722, written about the great London plague of 1665) requested permission from the church sexton to visit the massive "pit" where plague victims are unceremoniously catapulted, he was told the grave was a "'speaking sight.'" This perfectly describes Defoe's historical novel. Punctuated by pained shrieks of victims and bereft loved ones alike, the Journal is, above all, a story of hope and survival. Defoe (under the guise of a first-person narrator, H.F.) deftly entangles the reader in a saga of an entire city's mortal combat with an enemy more powerful and inscrutable than any previously known. While Robinson Crusoe gave rise to a host of desert island tales, A Journal of the Plague Year spawned decades of survival stories, and the entire genre of historical fiction.

Defoe (born Foe) is an apt author for the first disaster novel, having survived numerous catastrophic events himself. A journalist and pamphleteer (who wrote for virtually all the major periodicals of the time, as well as edited his own Review ), this tradesman-turned-fiction-writer was twice bankrupt, worked as a secret agent (perhaps in payment for help getting out of prison), and spent three days in the pillory. Typical of Defoe's resourceful spirit of survival, while in the stocks he composed a poem about his experience that so moved the local flower sellers that they festooned his pillory with roses. Scorned by upper-class writers for his popularity with the masses and his interest in trade, he was deeply concerned about social issues, ones that included the well-being of London's poor, and the education of women. He was called by Jonathan Swift "so grave, sententious, dogmatical a rogue, that there is no enduring him," yet highly praised by Ben Franklin, Samuel Johnson, and Leigh Hunt. This prolific author of over 400 titles was so beloved by England's girls and boys that, in appreciation for Robinson Crusoe , they erected an elaborate monument over his grave. Many consider Defoe to be the father of the modern novel.

A Journal of the Plague Year comes mid-way in Defoe's amazing output of nine major works of fiction in about five years: Robinson Crusoe (1719, plus two sequels), Memoirs of a Cavalier (1720), Captain Singleton (1720), Moll Flanders (1722), A Journal of the Plague Year (1722), Colonel Jack (1722), and Roxana (1724). His works further include two major texts regarding trade (The Complete English Tradesman and A Plan of the English Commerce ), as well as a three-volume guidebook to England, one widely used for a half century (A Tour Through the Whole Island of Great Britain .) While the popularity of most works (by any author) pales in comparison to the ever-popular Robinson Crusoe , Defoe's entire fictional output has been receiving increased critical attention in the last fifty years, as the definition of "fine literature" - i.e., worthy of critical study - has broadened to include a much wider variety of authors, subjects, and genres than ever before.

It is difficult to address the issue of Defoe's contemporaries. Although John Locke, William Congreve, Jonathan Swift, and Alexander Pope were his chronological contemporaries, Defoe did not begin writing fiction until he was sixty (1719), making Pope's The Rape of the Lock (1717), Swift's Gulliver's Travels (1726), John Gay's The Beggar's Opera (1728), Samuel Richardson's Pamela (1740), and Henry Fielding's Joseph Andrews (1742) his nearest literary contemporaries. (It is easier to cite his contemporaries in journalism: Richard Steele, Tattler , 1709, and Joseph Addison, Spectator ,1711.) Moreover, it is unfair to criticize him, as many do, for not conforming to the as-yet-unformulated conventions of the novel. He is amazingly well educated for someone who, because he was a religious dissenter, was barred from attending university. Perhaps not surprisingly, the major literary debate regarding Defoe's Journal , still raging, concerns its categorization as either fiction, history, or historical fiction.

Defoe's historical work about the plague (his second, preceded by Due Preparations for the Plague ) was written directly in response to a fresh outbreak of the infection in Marseilles in 1720. In 1721 Sir Robert Walpole passed an unpopular act stipulating that were the disease to spread to England, the movement of people and goods would be severely restricted. Tellingly, throughout the Journal , Defoe debates the practice of "shutting up" houses where infected people reside - i.e., not allowing seemingly healthy family members or servants to leave, many of whom died as a result. Yet, the greater good - slowing the spread of the infection - may have been served. Moreover, in the book, Defoe incessantly praises "the prudence of the magistrates, their charity, their vigilance for the poor, and for preserving good order, furnishing provisions and the like."

Ostensibly, it was H.F., not Defoe, who praised the local government. When A Journal of the Plague Year was published, it was genuinely presented as true, written by a saddlemaker in Whitechapel. Then and in ensuing decades, it was viewed almost exclusively as an authentic, historical account; the text's focus on individual characters and moral lessons was not considered to be inappropriate, as they would be today in a history text. In the 1770s, Daniel Defoe became widely known as the author. Some believed the observations in the Journal to be his, with H.F. merely serving as a pseudonym. This was of course impossible, because Daniel Defoe was only five years old in 1665, and did not remain in London (as did the narrator) during the plague. Subsequently, Daniel Defoe's uncle H.F. has been generally thought to be the model for the narrator, although there is evidence neither that he kept a journal, nor that he resided in London during the plague.

From the 1770s onward, critical debate has focused almost exclusively on the genre of A Journal of the Plague Year . The claim that it is a history text is bolstered by its using many historical documents. The principal ones are Orders Conceived and Published by the Lord Mayor and Aldermen of the City of London concerning the Infection of the Plague (reprinted in 1721) and The Weekly Bills of Mortality , both of which liberally pepper the Journal with charts and proclamations. Defoe also used Richard Meade's A Short Discourse Concerning Pestilential Contagion (1720) and Nathaniel Hodge's Loimologia . Although proponents of the "Journal as history" camp note Defoe's factual errors, they counter with equal numbers of internal inconsistencies in the source documents. Defoe undoubtedly knew people who had survived the plague year (in addition to his uncle, H.F.) and, as with any major disaster, stories about it kept circulating and re-circulating. Although notable critics through the years have continued to see the Journal as history (most recently, and adamantly, Watson Nicholson in 1919), this viewpoint is no longer accepted. Once Daniel Defoe was revealed as the work's actual author, the Journal has increasingly been viewed as fiction, most notably in Sir Walter Scott's comment that it "hovers between romance and history." He contends that even though "the subject is hideous almost to disgust.... De Foe would have deserved immortality for the genius which he displayed in this work." The Journal is now almost universally viewed as historical fiction, a narration containing elements of historical truth, but one that cannot be relied upon for accuracy.

The genre debate aside, there are numerous important themes in this book of "speaking sights." As in many of Defoe's fictional works, the narrator presents the story from his own vantage point - in this case, by looking out his window, walking the streets, and serving as an "examiner" whose duty it is to identify the infected. The use of a narrator serves to personalize the experience, reinforced by his using phrases such as "I remember," as well as by his adding more detail than would have been necessary to tell a story - i.e., H. F. characteristically starts, "It was about the beginning of September, 1664, that I, among the rest of my neighbors, heard in ordinary discourse that the plague was returned again in Holland." This colloquial inception is followed by two pages of charts of the dead, which serve to carefully establish a factual tone. In the Journal (and other works) critics have commented on Defoe's ability to recreate natural speech, no where more evident than in the work's middle section, which is presented entirely as dialogue. Yet another tactic for promoting believability is the narrator's habitual practice of presenting, and then backing away from, more outrageous claims made at the time - as in the common assertion that none who went to minister the sick became infected. H.F. counters, "I never knew any one of them that miscarried" and that it is reasonable that they "may hope to be protected in the work."

Those ministered to were primarily the poor, the major victims of the plague. Not only did many of them lose their jobs, but most did not have access to the usual defense, of fleeing the city. Numerous critics, in fact, assert that the total group of the London poor is the book's major character. As Maximillian Novak asserts, "It is a novel with a collective hero - the London poor - and though it ends with the triumphant voice of the Saddler proclaiming his survival, it is the survival of London that matters." Serving as a foil to these London poor are those who prey on them: the quacks and fortunetellers. H.F. complains, "With what blind, absurd, and ridiculous stuff these oracles of the devil pleased and satisfied the people I really know not."

Both of these sets of characters are part of the larger living being of London, a city valiantly attempting to assume a face of normalcy by day - i.e., by having burials at night. Day and night, the diseased run through the streets (in various states of undress), dead-cart drivers expire even as they drive, people shout their death-bed confessions because the well dare not come near them, and, at the height of the outbreak, "There was nobody left to give notice to the buriers or sextons that there were any dead bodies there to be buried." Stories abound of hangings, people setting themselves on fire to escape the pain of the disease, and men "throwing themselves out at their windows; shooting themselves, & c.; mothers murdering their own children in their lunacy, some dying of mere grief as a passion, some of mere fright and surprise without any infection." Conversely, when the plague lifts, people eagerly come out of their homes and shake each other's hands.

Interspersed with stories of mass misery are descriptions of a few memorable characters (aside from the narrator, who carefully keeps himself in the role of observer). For example, there is a pathetic, personal story of a healthy man whose entire family is infected. He continues to work, yet dares not come close to his loved ones. Instead, he regularly puts his wages on a stone outside his home, and dejectedly watches from a distance as his wife or children come to collect them. H.F. is so moved that he adds his own pocket change to the day's offering. Another story is of a man whose wife and several of his children are on the dead cart: "No sooner was the cart turned round and the bodies shot into the pit promiscuously, which was a surprise to him, for he at least expected they would have been decently laid in, though indeed he was afterwards convinced that was impracticable.... but he cried out aloud.... but he went backward two or three steps and fell down in a swoon." In the very middle of the Journal , the author provides much-needed relief by taking the reader out of the city, as he recounts the saga of three poor, homeless kinsmen who resolve to leave London. The story of their struggle to survive both paints a larger view - the plague was not confined to London - and, unabashedly "has a moral in very part of it."

This emphasis on God is perhaps the dominant theme of the Journal . Although Defoe rejected his father's request that he become a minister, the story might be regarded as "a sermon to you, it may be, the best that ever you heard in your life." (This was the description of the mass grave presented to H.F.) Defoe seems to straddle the line of ascribing both natural and divine causes for the plague, saying that it is "a distemper arising from natural causes" yet "Divine Power has formed the whole scheme of nature and maintains nature in its course." Numerous references to divine justice include an implication of the "remarkable hand of Divine justice... that all the predictors, astrologers, fortune-tellers... were gone and vanished." At the book's end, when the plague is abating, "nothing but the immediate finger of God, nothing but omnipotent power, could have done it."

In conclusion, although the subject of A Journal of the Plague Year is indeed grim, the story, on the whole, is engaging and uplifting, in large part due to the countless stories of both public servants and private citizens alike selflessly and courageously contributing to the ease and survival of the infected, often at the cost of their own lives. A Journal of the Plague Year focuses on compassion for the poor, the goodness and effectiveness of the government, and, moreover, the human spirit of resourcefulness in the face of an immense impersonal disaster.

Catherine A. Henze is a writer for Tekno Books.
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