The bills of mortality rose the first week in September to seven
thousand, and though they slightly decreased during the second
week--awakening a momentary hope--on the third they advanced to twelve
thousand! In less than ten days, upwards of two thousand persons
perished in the parish of Aldgate alone; while Whitechapel suffered
equally severely. Out of the hundred parishes in and about the city, one
only, that of Saint John the Evangelist in Watling-street, remained
uninfected, and this merely because there was scarcely a soul left
within it, the greater part of the inhabitants having quitted their
houses, and fled into the country.
The deepest despair now seized upon all the survivors. Scarcely a family
but had lost half of its number--many, more than half--while those who
were left felt assured that their turn would speedily arrive. Even the
reckless were appalled, and abandoned their evil courses. Not only were
the dead lying in the passages and alleys, but even in the main
thoroughfares, and none would remove them. The awful prediction of
Solomon Eagle that "grass would grow in the streets, and that the living
should not be able to bury the dead," had come to pass. London had
become one vast lazar-house, and seemed in a fair way of becoming a
mighty sepulchre.
During all this time, Saint Paul's continued to be used as a pest-house,
but it was not so crowded as heretofore, because, as not one in fifty of
the infected recovered when placed under medical care, it was not
thought worth while to remove them from their own abodes.
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