Here are some last thoughts on Daniel Defoe 's book A Journal of the Plague Year, an account of the dreadful plague of 1665, which decimated the London’s population.
The plague’s first cases were recorded in November, 1664. It picked up pace in March next year and had its peak in September when the intensity of the plague started to wain with each week, which was observed by the drop in the number of cases of deaths attributed to the plague in bills of mortality. According to Dafoe’s account, by the year’s end the plague was more or less gone. Other sources say that the plague did not cease at the beginning of the year 1666; the bills of mortality record 1998 deaths by the plague in that year. In fact, deaths from this disease are recorded each year, except 1670, until 1679.
Here are a few paragraphs from A Journal of the Plague Year on the plague losing its steam and reasons behind it, according to the author.
It remains now that I should say something of the merciful part of this terrible judgment. The last week in September, the plague being come to its crisis, its fury began to assuage. I remember my friend Dr. Heath, coming to see me the week before told me, he was sure that the violence of it would assuage in a few days; but when I saw the weekly bill of that week, which was the highest of the whole year, being 8297 of all diseases, I upbraided him with it, and asked him what he had made his judgment from? His answer, however, was not so much to seek, as I thought it would have been. "Look you," says he, "by the number which are at this time sick and infected, there should have been twenty thousand dead the last week, instead of eight thousand, if the inveterate mortal contagion had been as it was two weeks ago; for then it ordinarily killed in two or three days, now not under eight or ten, and then not above one in five recovered; whereas, I have observed, that now not above two in five miscarry, and observe it from me, the next bill will decrease, and you will see many more people recover than used to do; for though a vast multitude are now everywhere infected, and as many every day fall sick, yet there will not so many die as there did, for the malignity of the distemper is abated; " adding, that he began now to hope, nay, more than hope, that the infection had passed its crisis, and was going off ; — and accordingly so it was, for the next week being, as I said, the last in September, the bill decreased almost two thousand.
It is true, the plague was still at a frightful height, and the next bill was no less than 6460, and the next to that 5720; but still my friend's observation was just, and it did appear the people did recover faster, and more in number, than they used to do; and indeed, if it had not been so, what had been the condition of the City of London? For, according to my friend, there were not fewer than sixty thousand people at that time infected, whereof, as above, 24,477 died, and near forty thousand recovered; whereas, had it been as it was before, fifty thousand of that number would very probably have died, if not more, and fifty thousand more would have sickened ; for in a word, the whole mass of people began to sicken, and it looked as if none would escape.
But this remark of my friend's appeared more evident in a few weeks more; for the decrease went on, and another week in October it decreased 1849; so that the number dead of the plague was but 2665 ; and the next week it decreased 1413 more, and yet it was seen plainly that there was abundance of people sick, nay, abundance more than ordinary, and abundance fell sick every day, but, as above, the malignity of the disease abated.
In the middle of their distress, when the condition of the City of London was so truly calamitous, just then it pleased God, as it were by his immediate hand, to disarm this enemy; the poison was taken out of the sting: it was wonderful! Even the physicians themselves were surprised at it: wherever they visited, they found their patients better, either they had sweated kindly, or the tumors were broke, or the carbuncles went down, and the inflammations round them changed color, or the fever was gone, or the violent headache was assuaged, or some good symptom was in the case ; so that in a few days, everybody was recovering: whole families that were infected and down, that had ministers praying with them, and expected death every hour, were revived and healed, and none died at all out of them.
Nor was this by any new medicine found out, or new method of cure discovered, or by any experience in the operation, which the physicians or surgeons attained to; but it was evidently from the secret invisible hand of Him that had at first sent this disease as a judgment upon us; and let the atheistic part of mankind call my saying what they please, it is no enthusiasm. It was acknowledged at that time by all mankind. The disease was enervated, and its malignity spent, and let it proceed from whencesoever it will, let the philosophers search for reasons in nature to account for it by, and labor as much as they will to lessen the debt they owe to their Maker; those physicians who had the least share of religion in them, were obliged to acknowledge that it was all supernatural, that it was extraordinary, and that no account could be given of it!
Epilogue
Londoners beat the plague. Celebrations were in order… without any regards to social distancing.
“Some, indeed, paid for their audacious boldness with the price of their lives.”
Here are some scenes of nudity I found at
Mr. Skin tagged as party, celebration. Scene with
Holly Eglington from American Pie Presents: The Book of Love being among the favorite ones, Quanteisha’s Get Loose and scene editing and cutting being the main reasons, fake boobs… not so much.
