When the buriers came up to him they soon found he was neither a person infected and desperate,as I have observed above,or a person distempered -in mind,but one oppressed with a dreadful weight of grief indeed,having his wife and several of his children all in the cart that was just come in with him,and he followed in an agony and excess of sorrow.He mourned heartily,as it was easy to see,but with a kind of masculine grief that could not give itself vent by tears;and calmly defying the buriers to let him alone,said he would only see the bodies thrown in and go away,so they left importuning him.But 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;I say,no sooner did he see the sight but he cried out aloud,unable to contain himself.I could not hear what he said,but he went backward two or three steps and fell down in a swoon.The buriers ran to him and took him up,and in a little while he came to himself,and they led him away to the Pie Tavern over against the end of Houndsditch,where,it seems,the man was known,and where they took care of him.He looked into the pit again as he went away,but the buriers had covered the bodies so immediately with throwing in earth,that though there was light enough,for there were lanterns,and candles in them,placed all night round the sides of the pit,upon heaps of earth,seven or eight,or perhaps more,yet nothing could be seen.
This was a mournful scene indeed,and affected me almost as much as the rest;but the other was awful and full of terror.The cart had in it sixteen or seventeen bodies;some were wrapt up in linen sheets,some in rags,some little other than naked,or so loose that what covering they had fell from them in the shooting out of the cart,and they fell quite naked among the rest;but the matter was not much to them,or the indecency much to any one else,seeing they were all dead,and were to be huddled together into the common grave of mankind,as we may call it,for here was no difference made,but poor and rich went together;there was no other way of burials,neither was it possible there should,for coffins were not to be had for the prodigious numbers that fell in such a calamity as this.
It was reported by way of scandal upon the buriers,that if any corpse was delivered to them decently wound up,as we called it then,in a winding-sheet tied over the head and feet,which some did,and which was generally of good linen;I say,it was reported that the buriers were so wicked as to strip them in the cart and carry them quite naked to the ground.But as I cannot easily credit anything so vile among Christians,and at a time so filled with terrors as that was,I can only relate it and leave it undetermined.
Innumerable stories also went about of the cruel behaviours and practices of nurses who tended the sick,and of their hastening on the fate of those they tended in their sickness.But I shall say more of this in its place.
I was indeed shocked with this sight;it almost overwhelmed me,and I went away with my heart most afflicted,and full of the afflicting thoughts,such as I cannot describe.just at my going out of the church,and turning up the street towards my own house,I saw another cart with links,and a bellman going before,coming out of Harrow Alley in the Butcher Row,on the other side of the way,and being,as Iperceived,very full of dead bodies,it went directly over the street also toward the church.I stood a while,but I had no stomach to go back again to see the same dismal scene over again,so I went directly home,where I could not but consider with thankfulness the risk I had run,believing I had gotten no injury,as indeed I had not.
Here the poor unhappy gentleman's grief came into my head again,and indeed I could not but shed tears in the reflection upon it,perhaps more than he did himself;but his case lay so heavy upon my mind that I could not prevail with myself,but that I must go out again into the street,and go to the Pie Tavern,resolving to inquire what became of him.
It was by this time one o'clock in the morning,and yet the poor gentleman was there.The truth was,the people of the house,knowing him,had entertained him,and kept him there all the night,notwithstanding the danger of being infected by him,though it appeared the man was perfectly sound himself.
It is with regret that I take notice of this tavern.The people were civil,mannerly,and an obliging sort of folks enough,and had till this time kept their house open and their trade going on,though not so very publicly as formerly:but there was a dreadful set of fellows that used their house,and who,in the middle of all this horror,met there every night,behaved with all the revelling and roaring extravagances as is usual for such people to do at other times,and,indeed,to such an offensive degree that the very master and mistress of the house grew first ashamed and then terrified at them.
They sat generally in a room next the street,and as they always kept late hours,so when the dead-cart came across the street-end to go into Houndsditch,which was in view of the tavern windows,they would frequently open the windows as soon as they heard the bell and look out at them;and as they might often hear sad lamentations of people in the streets or at their windows as the carts went along,they would make their impudent mocks and jeers at them,especially if they heard the poor people call upon God to have mercy upon them,as many would do at those times in their ordinary passing along the streets.
