116 • Confusionsort or kind soever before Thursday next at ye furthest.” The deadline passed
and negligent pet owners faced prosecution, if the arm of the law could reach
them.^6
A flurry of controls on human movement came next. Public gatherings
were forbidden. Schools for boys and girls closed down, including dancing
and French schools. To the detriment of justice, the city’s law courts also
stopped their normal functioning. Old Bailey was shut with spectacular
abruptness. A man was indicted for blasphemy, but when he appeared before
the judges he looked very sickly. A physician from the pesthouse was called
in and searched him, discovering a plague sore. The justices suspended trials,
and the penal system limped along with occasional arrests and interim de-
tention.^7
Dissenters holding illegal “conventicles” in private dwellings were prime
targets for arrest, for they might be plotting an uprising against the absent
king and cathedral dean under cover of plague. Quakers were well repre-
sented at Newgate prison, where jail fever and plague broke out. Debtors
were more likely to be put into Ludgate prison or a secondary jail, called a
“comptor.” Prisoners were provided with food and running water from the
city conduits by order of the Guildhall, though supplies were not dependable.
Watches were mounted at the gates and landing places on the Thames “to
restrain and prevent the ingress of all vagrants, beggars, loose and dangerous
people.” Watermen were forbidden to carry into the city any obviously in-
fected or suspicious-looking person. The mayor ordered the high parish au-
thorities to clamp down on disorderly tippling, gaming, rowing on the river,
“and other offenses,” especially on Sundays. Here was a multipurpose decree,
linking existing laws against profaning the Lord’s Day with punishment of
licentious behavior that spread the infection and further provoked God’s
righteous anger.
Taverns and inns were also suspect. All vintners, inn holders, sellers of
strong water, and alehouse and coffeehouse keepers were forbidden to “en-
tertain” citizens (though citizens could still order food and drink sent to their
homes). Only traveling guests were to be accommodated on the premises—
“with sobriety and moderation.” This was just one regulation too much for
city dwellers with precious few avenues left to allay their jitters. Samuel
Pepys had already chafed at the ban on fairs, maypole dancing, and cherry
bobbing. He was especially inconvenienced by the closing of the theaters—
his favorite nonamorous entertainment. In noncompliance he continued to
use the taverns and inns of London and Westminster, both for flirting and
for arranging contracts with navy suppliers. These establishments closed only