History of the Plague in England | Page 3

odd books and pamphlets written by
Defoe, it may fairly be said that only two--"Robinson Crusoe" and the
"History of the Plague in London"--are read by any but the special
students of eighteenth-century literature. The latter will be discussed in
another part of this Introduction. Of the former it may be asserted, that
it arose naturally out of the circumstances of Defoe's trade as a
journalist. So long as the papers would take his articles, nobody of
distinction could die without Defoe's rushing out with a biography of
him. In these biographies, when facts were scanty, Defoe supplied them
from his imagination, attributing to his hero such sentiments as he
thought the average Londoner could understand, and describing his
appearance with that minute fidelity of which only an eyewitness is
supposed to be capable. Long practice in this kind of composition made
Defoe an adept in the art of "lying like truth." When, therefore, the
actual and extraordinary adventures of Alexander Selkirk came under
his notice, nothing was more natural and more profitable for Defoe than
to seize upon this material, and work it up, just as he worked up the
lives of Jack Sheppard the highwayman, and of Avery the king of the
pirates. It is interesting to notice also that the date of publication of
"Robinson Crusoe" (1719) corresponds with a time at which Defoe was
playing the desperate and dangerous game of a political spy. A single
false move might bring him a stab in the dark, or might land him in the
hulks for transportation to some tropical island, where he might have
abundant need for the exercise of those mental resources that interest us
so much in Crusoe. The secret of Defoe's life at this time was known
only to himself and to the minister that paid him. He was almost as

much alone in London as was Crusoe on his desert island.
The success which Defoe scored in "Robinson Crusoe" he never
repeated. His entire lack of artistic conscience is shown by his adding a
dull second part to "Robinson Crusoe," and a duller series of serious
reflections such as might have passed through Crusoe's mind during his
island captivity. Of even the best of Defoe's other novels,--"Moll
Flanders," "Roxana," "Captain Singleton,"--the writer must confess that
his judgment coincides with that of Mr. Leslie Stephen, who finds two
thirds of them "deadly dull," and the treatment such as "cannot raise
[the story] above a very moderate level."[3]
The closing scenes of Defoe's life were not cheerful. He appears to
have lost most of the fortune he acquired from his numerous writings
and scarcely less numerous speculations. For the two years
immediately preceding his death, he lived in concealment away from
his home, though why he fled, and from what danger, is not definitely
known. He died in a lodging in Ropemaker's Alley, Moorfields, on
April 26, 1731.
The only description we have of Defoe's personal appearance is an
advertisement published in 1703, when he was in hiding to avoid arrest
for his "Shortest Way with the Dissenters:"--
"He is a middle-aged, spare man, about forty years old, of a brown
complexion, and dark-brown colored hair, but wears a wig; a hooked
nose, a sharp chin, gray eyes, and a large mole near his mouth."
In the years 1720-21 the plague, which had not visited Western Europe
for fifty-five years, broke out with great violence in Marseilles. About
fifty thousand people died of the disease in that city, and great alarm
was felt in London lest the infection should reach England. Here was a
journalistic chance that so experienced a newspaper man as Defoe
could not let slip. Accordingly, on the 17th of March, 1722, appeared
his "Journal of the Plague Year: Being Observations or Memorials of
the most Remarkable Occurrences, as well Publick as Private, which
happened in London during the Last Great Visitation in 1665. Written
by a Citizen who continued all the while in London. Never made public

before." The story is told with such an air of veracity, the little
circumstantial details are introduced with such apparent artlessness, the
grotesque incidents are described with such animation, (and relish!) the
horror borne in upon the mind of the narrator is so apparently genuine,
that we can easily understand how almost everybody not in the secret
of the authorship believed he had here an authentic "Journal," written
by one who had actually beheld the scenes he describes. Indeed, we
know that twenty-three years after the "Journal" was published, this
impression still prevailed; for Defoe is gravely quoted as an authority
in "A Discourse on the Plague; by Richard Mead, Fellow of the College
of Physicians and of the Royal Society, and Physician to his Majesty.
9th Edition. London, 1744." Though Defoe, like his admiring critic