Historical fiction; London (England) -- History -- 17th century -- Fiction; Plague -- Fiction
As the richer sort got into ships, so the lower rank got into hoys,[182]
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 above bridge[183] 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!
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.
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 clothes, 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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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