History of the Plague in London — Key Ideas to Explore

(6 User reviews)   1850
Defoe, Daniel, 1661?-1731 Project Gutenberg 2005 Not confirmed
Historical fiction; Plague -- Fiction; London (England) -- History -- 17th century -- Fiction Readers of public-domain and historical texts
Project Gutenberg digital edition en

Edition facts

Words 96,650
Reading time 421 min
Text sections 11

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Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Historical fiction,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.

Defoe's quasi-fictional account of the 1665 plague uses a narrator's precise observations to document social breakdown, quarantine measures, and the moral dilemmas of flight versus staying, with recurring attention to numbers, costs, and the voices of ordinary Londoners.
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ture had gifted Defoe with untiring energy, a keen taste for public affairs, and a special aptitude for chicanery and intrigue. These were not qualities likely to advance him in the ministry, and he wisely refused to adopt that profession. With a young man's love for adventure and a dissenter's hatred for Roman Catholicism, he took part in the Duke of Monmouth's rebellion (1685) against James II. More fortunate than three of his fellow students, who were executed for their share in this affair, Defoe escaped the hue and cry that followed the battle of Sedgemoor, and after some months' concealment set up as a wholesale merchant in Cornhill. When James II. was deposed in 1688, and the Protestant William of Orange elected to the English throne, Defoe hastened to give in his allegiance to the new dynasty. In 1691 he published his first pamphlet, "A New Discovery of an Old Intrigue, a Satire leveled at Treachery and Ambition." This is written in miserable doggerel verse. That Defoe should have mistaken it for poetry, and should have prided himself upon it accordingly, is only a proof of how incompetent an author is to pass judgment upon what is good and what is bad in his own work.

In 1692 Defoe failed in business, probably from too much attention to politics, which were now beginning to engross more and more of his time and thoughts. His political attitude is clearly defined in the title of his next pamphlet, "The Englishman's Choice and True Interest: in the Vigorous Prosecution of the War against France, and serving K. William and Q. Mary, and acknowledging their Right." "K. William" was too astute a manager to neglect a writer who showed the capacity to become a dangerous opponent. Defoe was accordingly given the place of accountant to the commissioners of the glass duty (1694). From this time until William's death (1702), he had no more loyal and active servant than Defoe. Innumerable pamphlets bear tribute to his devotion to the King and his policy,--pamphlets written in an easy, swinging, good-natured style, with little imagination and less passion; pamphlets whose principal arguments are based upon a reasonable self-interest, and for the comprehension of which no more intellectual power is called for than Providence has doled out to the average citizen. Had Defoe lived in the nineteenth century, instead of in the seventeenth, he would have commanded a princely salary as writer for the Sunday newspaper, and as composer of campaign documents and of speeches for members of the House of Representatives.

In 1701 Defoe published his "True-born Englishman," a satire upon the English people for their stupid opposition to the continental policy of the King. This is the only metrical composition of prolific Daniel that has any pretensions to be called a poem. It contains some lines not unworthy to rank with those of Dryden at his second-best. For instance, the opening:--

"Wherever God erects a house of prayer, The Devil always builds a chapel there; And 'twill be found upon examination The latter has the largest congregation."

Or, again, this keen and spirited description of the origin of the English race:--

"These are the heroes that despise the Dutch, And rail at newcome foreigners so much, Forgetting that themselves are all derived From the most scoundrel race that ever lived; A horrid crowd of rambling thieves and drones, Who ransacked kingdoms and dispeopled towns: The Pict and painted Briton, treach'rous Scot By hunger, theft, and rapine hither brought; Norwegian pirates, buccaneering Danes, Whose red-haired offspring everywhere remains: Who, joined with Norman French, compound the breed From whence your true-born Englishmen proceed."

Strange to say, the English people were so pleased with this humorous sketch of themselves, that they bought eighty thousand copies of the work. Not often is a truth teller so rewarded.

Not unnaturally elated by the success of this experiment, the next year Defoe came out with his famous "Shortest Way with the Dissenters," a satire upon those furious High Churchmen and Tories, who would devour the dissenters tooth and nail. Unfortunately, the author had overestimated the capacity of the average Tory to see through a stone wall. The irony was mistaken for sincerity, and quoted approvingly by those whom it was intended to satirize. When the truth dawned through the obscuration of the Tories' intellect, they were naturally enraged. They had influence enough to have Defoe arrested, and confined in Newgate for some eighteen months. He was also compelled to stand in the pillory for three days; but it is not true that his ears were cropped, as Pope intimates in his

"Earless on high stood unabashed Defoe."

Defoe's History of the Plague in London is not a straightforward history but a meticulously constructed narrative that blends documentary detail with the voice of a survivor-narrator. The text repeatedly foregrounds numbers—of deaths, of burials, of those fleeing—and the economic calculus of survival. In one extended episode, a group of refugees from London negotiates with country townspeople who fear both infection and the burden of supporting the poor. The refugees' spokesman, John, argues with rational restraint, offering to repay any charity and to bury their own dead. This scene exemplifies the book's persistent attention to the practical and moral negotiations that plague forces upon communities.

Negotiating Fear and Charity in the Countryside

The excerpt featuring John and the townspeople reveals a central tension: the conflict between civic duty and self-preservation. The townsmen voice two fears: infection and the parish poor rate. John's reply is a model of reasoned appeal—he promises no violence, offers to repay relief, and even calculates the cost of burying themselves. The townsmen do not grant permission but tacitly allow the refugees to stay. This ambiguous outcome, neither expulsion nor welcome, recurs throughout the narrative. Defoe's narrator records such exchanges with a reporter's eye, noting how the refugees' quiet behavior—singing psalms on the Sabbath—gradually earns them goodwill. A gentleman sends straw for bedding; a minister sends wheat. The episode shows how small acts of charity emerge from sustained, visible decency.

The Weight of Numbers and Costs

Throughout the text, the narrator returns to ledgers of loss: how many died, how many fled, how much money changed hands. In the refugees' plea, John explicitly offers to repay any provisions if they return home safely, and he calculates the expense of a worst-case scenario—if all die, the last man will leave enough to cover his own burial. This habit of quantifying human life and charity reflects a broader documentary impulse. The narrator does not simply report suffering; he tallies its economic dimensions. The townsmen's worry about the poor rate is not dismissed but met with a promise of reimbursement. Defoe's prose thus weaves together moral argument and financial accounting, suggesting that even in crisis, social relations are mediated by obligations and reckonings.

Voice and Perspective in the Plague Narrative

The narrator's voice is that of an observer who is also a participant—he speaks of "we" and "us" but maintains a detached, analytical tone. In the refugee episode, John's speech is rendered in direct quotation, giving the reader access to a commoner's eloquence and reason. The townsmen's objections are also quoted, creating a dialogue that dramatizes conflicting priorities. Defoe's method is to let these voices speak, then note the outcome: the refugees stay, undisturbed, for several days. The narrator does not moralize but records the gradual shift in opinion. This technique—presenting multiple perspectives through reported speech and then noting incremental change—gives the book its distinctive texture, part chronicle, part drama.

Readers should attend to the way Defoe's narrator oscillates between the general and the particular—between weekly mortality bills and the story of a single group of refugees. The book rewards those who follow its digressions and listen to its many voices, from magistrates to the poor. The plague is not a backdrop but an active force that reshapes language, behavior, and community.

Reading about Defoe’s plague — how he counts the dead, records the price of bread, listens to the panic in ordinary voices — I found myself drifting to The Threefold Destiny (From "Twice Told Tales") — A Reader’s Guide. There’s a similar feeling of watching a single life unfold through small, precise details, as if fate were simply a pattern of quiet choices noticed too late.

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4.5 out of 5 (6 User reviews )

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    Michelle Smith - 1 month ago
    This book is more a dry, old-fashioned chronicle than a compelling narrative. The repetitive accounts of deaths and regulations become monotonous. Defoe's style lacks the narrative drive to make it accessible today. I struggled to stay engaged, despite the fascinating subject. It's better suited for academic study than casual reading.

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    Amanda Whitaker - 2 weeks ago
    Defoe's account offers a fascinating glimpse into London's plague year, with rich detail on the social and emotional impact. The narrative is earnest and informative. However, the prose is of its time, with long sentences and digressions that may test modern readers' patience. Still, it remains a valuable historical document.

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    Derek Mcdaniel - 2 weeks ago
    Daniel Defoe's 'A Journal of the Plague Year' (often titled 'History of the Plague in London') is a gripping, meticulously detailed account of the 1665 outbreak. Defoe's blend of factual observation with vivid narrative makes the horror tangible. It's not just a historical record but a profound meditation on human suffering and resilience. A must-read for history buffs and literature lovers alike.


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