There was such a general calm and serenity of weather, as if both wind and rain
had been expelled from the Kingdom... The birds did pant for breath, especially
of the larger sort, who were likewise observed to fly more heavily than usual.
—Dr. Baynard,September 1665Nameless in Death
Londoners reflected on the disappearance from their streets of horses, car-
riages, and wagons—except for the ubiquitous dead-carts with their lam-
entable cargo. Grass was sprouting up on the streets inside the wall and in
Whitehall’s abandoned courtyard. Occasionally, a stylish coach conveyed a
poor person to the Westminster pesthouse at parish expense.
Little rain had fallen in London since the plague’s appearance with the
warming breezes of spring. Death and drought held the citizens in their
grasp, contrasting strangely with the bountiful harvests of the countryside
that continued to feed Londoners still alive. The lack of rainfall alone
mocked their effort to keep up their spirits. Why should a householder or
shopkeeper continue the weekly ritual of clearing the filth from the doorway
when dust and dirt piled up as soon as one’s servant put away the broom? No
matter what Londoners did, the capital’s death toll spiraled upward with the
heat as if there was no limit to the number of persons who could die. Almost
7 , 000 of the 8 , 252 burials during the first week of September were acknowl-
edged to be the result of plague. In desperation, Captain General Albemarle
and Lord Mayor Lawrence ordered public fires to be lit on every street in the
vain hope that the smoke would banish the poisonous miasmas and effluvia
Requiem for London
[ 177 ]9