It was with a grave face, yet with a brave and cheerful mien, that the worthy Harmer met his household upon the following morning.  He had passed the remainder of that strangely interrupted night in meditation and prayer, and had arrived now at a resolution which he intended to put into immediate effect.

His household consisted, it will be remembered, of his own family, together with apprentices, shopmen, and serving wenches.  To all of these he now addressed himself, told the story which his daughter had related of the treatment received in the house of the high-born lady by the poor girl stricken by the pestilence, and how it had made even his own child almost fear to enter her father’s house.

“My friends,” said the master, looking round upon the ring of grave and eager faces, “these things ought not to be.  In times of common trouble and peril the hearts of men should draw closer together, and we should remember that God’s command to us is to love our neighbour as ourself.  If we were to lie stricken of mortal illness, should we think it a Christ-like act for all men to flee away from us?  But inasmuch as we ought all of us to take every care not to run into needless peril, so must we take every right and reasonable precaution to keep from ourselves and our homes this just but terrible visitation, which God has doubtless sent for our admonition and chastisement.”

After this preface, Harmer proceeded to tell his household what he had himself resolved upon.  His two apprentices ­other than his own son Joseph ­were sons of a farmer living in Greenwich; and he purposed that very day to get his sailor son Dan to take them down the river in a boat, that he might deliver the lads safe and sound to their parents before further peril threatened, advising them to keep them at home till the distemper should have abated, and arranging with them for a regular supply of fresh and untainted provisions, to be conveyed to his house from week to week by water, so long as there should be any fear of marketing in the city.  He foresaw that very soon trade would come almost to a standstill.  The scare and the pestilence together were emptying London of all its wealthier inhabitants.  There would be soon no work for either shopmen or apprentices, and he counselled the former, if they had homes out of London to go to, to remain no longer in town, but to take their wages and seek safety and employment elsewhere, until the calamity should be overpast.  He also gave the same liberty to the serving wenches, one of whom came from Islington and the other from Rotherhithe.  And all of these persons having home and friends, decided to leave forthwith, to be out of the danger of infection, and of that still more dreaded danger of being shut up in an infected house with a plague-stricken person.

The master gave liberally to each of his servants according to their past service, and promised that if he should escape the pestilence, and continue his business in more prosperous times, he would take them back into his house again.

For the present, however, it seemed good to him that only his own family should remain with him.  His wife and three daughters could well manage the house, and he did not desire that any other person should be imperilled through the course of action he himself intended to take.

When he took boat with his apprentices, he offered to Joseph to accompany his companions and remain under the charge of the farmer and his wife at Greenwich; but the boy begged so earnestly to remain at home with the rest, that he was permitted to do so.  Truth to tell, Joseph was more fascinated than alarmed by the thought of the advance of the dreaded plague, and was by no means anxious to be taken away from the city when all the world was saying that such strange things would be seen ere long.  The lad felt so safe beneath the care of wise and loving parents, that he would never of his own will consent to leave them.

The moment the party had started by boat, the shop being that day shut for the first time, albeit for some days nothing had been stirring in the way of custom ­Joseph darted away down a network of alleys hard by in search of his younger brother Benjamin, who was apprenticed to a carpenter in Lad Lane, off Wood Street, and therefore much nearer to the infected parishes than the house on the bridge.  Benjamin was sure to know the latest news as to the spread of the pestilence.  Joseph was of opinion that it was all rather fine fun, especially since it seemed like to get him a spell of unwonted holiday.

Already as he passed through the streets he noted a great many empty and shut-up houses.  Men were going about with grave and anxious faces.  Often they would look askance at some passerby who might be walking a little feebly or unsteadily, and once Joseph saw a man some fifty paces in advance of him stagger and fall to the ground with a lamentable cry.

Instead of flying to his assistance, all who saw him fled in terror, crying one to the other, “It is the pestilence!  Send for the watch to get him away!”

And presently there came two men who lifted him up and carried him away, but whether he was then alive or dead the boy did not know, and a great awe fell upon him; for he had never seen such a thing before, and could not understand how death could come so suddenly.

“Is it always so with them?” he asked of a woman who was craning her head out of a window to see where the bearers were taking him.

“I cannot tell,” she answered.  “They say that there be many walking about amongst us daily in the streets who carry death to all in their breath and in their touch, and yet they know it not themselves, and none know it till they fall as yon poor man did, and die ofttimes in a few minutes or hours.  If such be so, who knows when he is safe?  May the Lord have mercy upon us all!  There be seven lying dead in this street today, and though folks say they died of other fevers and distempers, who can tell?  They bribe the nurses and the leeches to return them dead of smaller ailments, but I verily believe the pestilence is stalking through our very midst even now.”

She shut down the window with a groan, and Joseph pursued his way with somewhat modified feelings, half elated at being in the thick of so much that was terrible and awesome, and yet beginning to understand somewhat of the horror that was possessing the minds of all.  He found himself walking in the middle of the street, and avoiding too close contact with the passersby; indeed all seemed disposed to give strangers a wide berth just now, so that it was not difficult to avoid contact.

Yet crowds were to be seen, too, at many open spaces.  Sometimes a fervid preacher would be declaiming to a pale-faced group on the subject of God’s righteous judgments upon a wicked and licentious city.  Sometimes a wizened old woman or a juggling charlatan would be seen selling all sorts of charms and potions as specifics against the plague.  Joseph pressing near in curiosity to one of these vendors, found him doing a brisk trade in dried toads, which he vowed would preserve the wearer from all infection.  Another had packets of dried herbs to which he gave terribly long names, and which he declared acted as an antidote to the poison.  Another had small leaflets on which directions were given for applying a certain ointment to the plague spots, which at once cured them as by magic.  The leaflets were given away, but the ointment had to be bought.  Those, however, who once read what the paper said, seldom went away without a box of the precious specific.

Joseph would have liked one himself, but had no money, and was further restrained by a sense of conviction that his father would say it was all nonsense and quackery.

Church bells were ringing, and many were tolling ­tolling for the dead, and ringing the living into the churches, where special prayers were being offered and many excellent discourses preached, to which crowds of people listened with bated breath.  Joseph crept into one church on his way for a few minutes, but was too restless to listen long, and soon came forth again.

He was now near to Lad Lane, and hastening his steps lest he might be further delayed, came quickly upon the back premises of the carpenter’s shop, where the sound of hammer and chisel and saw made quite a clamour in the quiet air.

“They are busy here at all events,” muttered Joseph, as he pushed open the gate of the yard, and in truth they were busy within; but yet the sight that presented itself to his eyes was anything hut a cheerful one, for every man in the large number assembled there was at work upon a coffin.  Coffins in every stage of construction stood everywhere, and the carpenters were toiling away at them as if for dear life.  Nothing but coffins was to be seen; and scarcely was one finished, in never so rude a fashion, but it was borne hurriedly away by some waiting messenger, and the master kept coming into the yard to see if his men could not work yet faster.

“They say they must bury the corpses uncoffined soon,” Joseph heard him whisper to his foreman as he passed by.  “No bodies may wait above ground after the first night when the cart goes its round.  Six orders have come in within the last hour.  No one knows how many we shall have by nightfall, or how many men we shall have working soon.  I sent Job away but an hour since.  I hope it was not the distemper that turned his face so green!  They say it has broken out in three streets hard by, and that it is spreading like wildfire.”

Joseph shuddered as he listened and crept away to the corner where his brother was generally to be found.  And there sure enough was Benjamin, a pretty fair-haired boy, who looked scarce strong enough for the task in hand, but who was yet working might and main with chisel and hammer.  His face brightened at sight of his brother, yet he did not relax his efforts, only saying eagerly: 

“How goes it at home with them all, Joseph?  I trow it is the coffin makers, not the lace makers, who have all the trade nowadays!  We are working night and day, and yet cannot keep up with the orders.”

Benjamin was half proud of all this press of business, but he did not look as though it agreed with him.  His face was pale, and when at last he threw down his hammer it was with a gasp of exhaustion.  The day was very hot, and he had been at work before the dawn.  It was no wonder, perhaps, that he looked wan and weary, yet the master passing by paused and cast an uneasy glance at him.  For it was from the very next stool that he had recently dismissed the man Job of whom he had spoken, and of whose condition he felt grave doubts.

Seeing Joseph close by he gave him a nod, and said: 

“Hast come to fetch home thy brother?  Two of my apprentices have been taken away since yesterday.  He is a good lad, and does his best; but he may take a holiday at home if he likes.  You are healthier at your end of the town, and they say the distemper comes not near water.

“Wilt thou go home to thy mother, boy?  We want men rather than lads at our work in these days.”

Joseph had had no thought of fetching home his brother when he started, but it seemed to him that Benjamin would be much better at home than in this crowded yard, where already the infection might have spread.  The boy confessed to a headache and pains in his limbs; and so fearful were all men now of any symptom of illness, however trifling, that the master sent him forth without delay, bidding Joseph take him straight home to his mother, and keep him there at his father’s pleasure.  A young boy was better at home in these days, as indeed might well be the case.

Benjamin was well pleased with this arrangement, having had something too much of over hours and hard work.

“He thinks perchance I have the distemper upon me,” he remarked slyly to Joseph, “but it is not that.  It is but the long hours and the heat and noise of the yard.  I shall be well enough when I get home to mother.”

And this indeed proved to be the case.  The child was overdone, and wanted but a little rest and care and mothering; and right glad were both his parents to have him safe under their own wing.

Upon that hot evening, almost the first in June, James Harmer had the satisfaction of feeling that he had every member of his family under his own roof, and that his household contained now none who were not indeed his very own flesh and blood.  Janet had slept peacefully almost the whole day, and had conversed happily and affectionately through the closed door with her sisters, who were rejoiced to have her there.  She spoke of feeling perfectly well but desired to remain in seclusion until certain that she could injure none beside.  She was not therefore able to be present when her father unfolded his plans to the rest of the family, though she was quickly apprised of the result later on.

“My dear wife and dutiful children,” said the master of the house, as he sat at table and looked about him at the ring of dear faces round him, “I have been thinking much as to what it is right for us to do in face of this peril and scourge which God has sent upon the city; and albeit I am well aware that it is the duty of every man to take reasonable care of himself and his household, yet I also feel very strongly that in the protection of the Lord is our greatest strength and safeguard, and that our best and strongest defence is in throwing ourselves upon His mercy, and asking day by day for His merciful protection for a household which looks to Him as the Lord of life and death.”

Then the good man proceeded to quote from Holy Writ certain passages in which the pestilence is represented as being the scourge of the Lord, and is spoken of as being an angel of the Lord with a drawn sword slaying right and left, yet ever ready to spare where the Lord shall bid.

“I shall then,” continued Harmer, “daily and nightly confide those of this household into the keeping of Almighty God, and pray to Him for His protection and special blessing.  It may be (since His ears are always open to the supplication of His children) that He will send His angel of life to watch over us and keep us from harm; and having this confidence, and using such means as seem wise and reasonable for the protection of all, I shall strive ­and you must all strive with me ­to dismiss selfish terrors and the horror that begets cruelty and callousness, that we may all of us do our duty towards those about us, and show that even the scourge of a righteous and offended God may become a blessing if taken in meekness and humility.”

Then the good man proceeded to say what precautions he was about to take for the preservation of his family.  He did not propose to fly the city.  He had many valuable goods on the premises, which he might probably lose were he to shut up his house and leave.  He had no place to go to in the country, and believed that the scourge might well follow them there, were every householder to seek to quit his abode.  Moreover, never was there greater need in the city for honest men of courage and probity to help to meet the coming crisis and to see carried out all the wise regulations proposed by the Mayor and Aldermen.  He had resolved to join them ­since business was like to be at a standstill for a while ­and do whatsoever a man could do to forward that good work.  His son Reuben was of the same mind with him; whilst his wife would far rather face the peril in her own house than go out, she knew not whither, to be perhaps overtaken by the plague on the road.  Her heart had yearned over the sick ever since she had heard her daughter’s harrowing tale, and knew that her sister was at work amongst the stricken.  She knew not what she might be able to do, but she trusted to her husband for guidance, and would be entirely under his direction.

Some citizens spoke of victualling their houses as for a siege, and entirely secluding themselves and their families till the plague was overpast ­and indeed this was many times done with success, although the plan broke down in other cases ­but this was not Harmer’s idea.  He did indeed advise his wife and daughters to be careful how they adventured themselves abroad, and where they went.  He had arranged at the farm near Greenwich for a regular supply of provisions to be brought by water to the stairs hard by the bridge; and since their house was supplied by water from the New River, they were sure of a constant fresh supply.  But he had no intention of incarcerating himself or any of his household, and preventing them from being of use to afflicted neighbours, whilst he himself anticipated having to go into many stricken homes and into infected houses.  All the restriction he imposed was that any person sallying forth into places where infection might be met should change his raiment before going out, in a small building in the rear of the shop which he was about to fit up for that purpose, and to keep constantly fumigated by the frequent burning of certain perfumes, of oil of sulphur, and of a coarse medicated vinegar which was said to be an excellent disinfectant.  On returning home again, the person who had been exposed would doff all outer garments in this little room, would resume his former clothing, and hang up the discarded garments where they would be subjected to this disinfecting fumigation for a number of hours, and would be then safe to wear upon another occasion.  He intended burning regularly in his house a fire of pungent wood such as pine or cedar, which was to be constantly fed with such spices and perfumes and disinfectants as the physicians should pronounce most efficacious.  Perfect cleanliness he did not need to insist upon, for his wife could not endure a speck of dust upon anything in the house.

A careful diet, regular hours, and freedom from needless fears would, he was assured, do much towards maintaining them all in health, and he concluded his address by kneeling down in the midst of his sons and daughters, and commending them all most fervently to the protection of Heaven, praying for grace to do their duty towards all about them, and for leading and guidance that they ran not into needless peril, but were directed in all things by the Spirit of God.

They had hardly risen from their knees before a knock at the door announced the arrival of a visitor, and Joseph running to answer the summons ­since there was now no servant in the house ­came back almost immediately ushering in the Master Builder, whose face wore a very troubled look.

“Heaven guard us all!  I think my wife will go distraught with the terror of this visitation, if it goes on much longer.  What is a man to do for the best?  She raves at me sometimes like a maniac for not having taken her away ere the scourge spread as it is doing now.  But when I tell her that if she is bent upon it she must e’en go now, she cries out that nothing would induce her to set her foot outside the house.  She sits with the curtains and shutters fast closed, and a fire of spices on the hearth, till one is fairly stifled, and will touch nothing that is not well-nigh soaked in vinegar.  And each time that Frederick comes in with some fresh tale, she is like to swoon with fear, and every time she vows that it is the pestilence attacking her, and is like to die from sheer fright.  What is a man to do with such a wife and such a son?”

“Surely Frederick will cease to repeat tales of horror when he sees they so alarm his mother,” said Rachel; but the Master Builder shook his head with an air of more than doubt.

“It seems his delight to torment her with terror; and she appears almost equally eager to hear all, though it almost scares her out of her senses.  As for Gertrude, the child is pining like a caged bird shut up in the house and not suffered to stir into the fresh air.  I am fair beset to know what to do for them.  Nothing will convince Madam but that there be dead carts at every street corner, and that the child will bring home death with her every time she stirs out.  Yet Frederick comes to and fro, and she admits him to her presence (though she holds a handkerchief steeped in vinegar to her nose the while), and she gets no harm from him.”

“Poor child!” said Rachel, thinking of Gertrude, whom once she had known so well, running to and fro in the house almost like one of her own.  “Would that we could do somewhat for her.  But I fear me her mother would not suffer her to visit us, especially since poor Janet came home last night from a plague-stricken house.”

Reuben’s eyes had brightened suddenly at his mother’s words, but the gleam died out again, and he remained quite silent whilst the story of Janet’s appearance at home was told.  The Master Builder listened with interest and sighed at the same time.  Perhaps he was contrasting the nature of his neighbour’s wife with that of his own.  How would Madam have acted had her child come to her in such a plight?

Harmer then told his neighbour the rules he was about to lay down for his own household, all of which the Master Builder, who was a keen practical man, cordially approved.  He was himself likely soon to be in a great strait, for most probably he would be appointed in due course to serve as an examiner of health, and would of necessity come into contact with those who had been amongst the sick, even if not with the infected themselves, and how his wife would bear such a thing as that he scarce dared to think.  Business, too, was at a standstill, all except the carpentering branch, and that was only busy with coffins.  If London became depopulated, there would be nothing doing in the building and furnishing line for long enough.  Some prophets declared that the city was doomed to a destruction such as had never been seen by mortal man before.  Even as it was the plague seemed like to sweep away a fourth of the inhabitants; and if that were so, what would become of such trades as his for many a year to come?  Already the Master Builder spoke of himself as a half-ruined man.

His neighbour did all he could to cheer him, but it was only too true that misfortune appeared imminent.  Harmer had always been a careful and cautious man, laying by against a rainy day, and not striving after a rapid increase of wealth.  But the Master Builder had worked on different lines.  He had enlarged his borders wherever he could see his way to doing so, and although he had a large capital by this time, it was all floating in this and that venture; so that in spite of his appearance of wealth and prosperity, he had often very little ready money.  So long as trade was brisk this mattered little, and he turned his capital over in a fashion that was very pleasing to himself.  But this sudden and totally unexpected collapse of business came upon him at a time when he could ill afford to meet it.  Already he had had to discharge the greater part of his workmen, having nothing for them to do.  The expenses which he could not put down drained his resources in a way that bid fair to bring him to bankruptcy, and it was almost impossible to get in outstanding accounts when the rich persons in his debt had fled hither and thither with such speed and haste that often no trace of them could be found, and their houses in town were shut up and absolutely empty.

“As for Frederick, he spends money like water ­and his mother encourages him,” groaned the unhappy father in confidence to his friend.  “Ah me! when I look at your fine sons, and see their conduct at home and abroad, it makes my heart burn with shame.  What is it that makes the difference? for I am sure I have denied Frederick no advantage that money could purchase.”

“Perhaps it is those advantages which money cannot purchase that he lacks,” said James Harmer, gravely ­“the prayers of a godly mother, the chastisement of a father who would not spoil the child by sparing the rod.  There are things in the upbringing of children, my good friend, of far more value than those which gold will purchase.”

The Master Builder gave vent to a sound almost like a groan.

“You are right, Harmer, you are right.  I have not done well in this thing.  My son is no better than an idle profligate.  I say it to my shame, but so it is.  Nothing that I say will keep him from his riotous comrades and licentious ways.  I have spoken till I am weary of speaking, and all is in vain.  And now that this terrible scourge of God has fallen upon the city, instead of turning from their evil courses with fear and loathing, he and such as he are but the more reckless and impious, and turn into a jest even this fearful visitation.  They scour the streets as before, and drink themselves drunk night by night.  Ah, should the pestilence reach some amongst them, what would be their terrible doom!  I cannot bear even to think of it!  Yet that is too like to be the end of my wretched boy, my poor, unhappy Frederick!”