Great as the mortality was during this affliction, the history of various other pestilences in foreign countries presents as melancholy a result. In Moscow, the plague introduced by the Turkish army carried off 22,000 inhabitants in a single month, and sometimes 12,000 in twenty-four hours. In Morocco, the mortality amounted to 1000 daily; in Old and New Fez, to 1500; in Terodant to 800. The total loss sustained in these cities and in the Mogadore was estimated at 124,500 souls.
The black pestilence of the fourteenth century also caused the most terrific ravages in England. It has been supposed to have borne some resemblance to the cholera, but that is not the case; it derived its name from the dark livid colour of the spots and boils that broke out upon the patient’s body. Like the cholera, the fatal disease appeared to have followed a regular route in its destructive progress; but it did not, like the cholera, advance westward, although like that fearful visitation it appears to have originated in Asia.
The black pestilence descended along the Caucasus to the shores of the Mediterranean, and instead of entering Europe through Russia, first spread over the south, and after devastating the rest of Europe penetrated into that country. It followed the caravan, which came from China across Central Asia, until it reached the shores of the Black Sea; thence it was conveyed by ships to Constantinople, the centre of commercial intercourse between Asia, Europe, and Africa. In 1347 it reached Sicily and some of the maritime cities of Italy and Marseilles. During the following year it spread over the northern part of Italy, France, Germany, and England. The northern kingdom of Europe was invaded by it in 1349, and finally Russia in 1351,—four years after it had appeared in Constantinople.
The following estimate of deaths was considered far below the actual number of victims:
| Florence | lost | 60,000 | inhabitants | |
| Venice | " | 10,000 | " | |
| Marseilles | " | in one month | 56,000 | " |
| Paris | " | " | 50,000 | " |
| Avignon | " | " | 60,000 | " |
| Strasburg | " | " | 16,000 | " |
| Basle | " | " | 14,000 | " |
| Erfurth | " | " | 16,000 | " |
| London | " | " | 100,000 | " |
| Norwich | " | " | 50,000 | " |
Hecker states that this pestilence was preceded by great commotion in the interior of the globe. About 1333, several earthquakes and volcanic eruptions did considerable injury in upper Asia, while in the same year, Greece, Italy, France, and Germany suffered under similar disasters. The harvests were swept away by inundations, and clouds of locusts destroyed all that the floods had spared, while dense masses of offensive insects strewed the land.
As in the recent invasion of cholera, the populace attributed this scourge to poison and to the Jews, and these hapless beings were persecuted and destroyed wherever they could be found. In Mayence, after vainly attempting to defend themselves, they shut themselves up in their quarters, where 1200 of them were burnt to death. The only asylum found by them was Lithuania where Casimir afforded them protection; and it is perhaps owing to this circumstance that so many Jewish families are still to be found in Poland.
A curious monumental record of the plague is to be seen at Eyam, an insignificant village in Derbyshire, to the eastward of Tideswell. It is an ancient stone cross of curious form and workmanship, erroneously stated to have been erected to commemorate the extinction of the pestilence which was supposed to have been brought there in a bag of woollen clothes, sent from London to a tailor of the place. The hamlet was soon infected, and its panic-struck inhabitants fled in every direction, scattering death in their flight, until driven back within their boundaries. During the prevalence of this scourge, tradition makes honourable mention of the rector of the parish, William Mompesson. Determined not to abandon his flock in the hour of need, he never quitted the devoted spot. In vain he entreated his wife to remove from the pestilential sphere of action—she would not leave him. Eyam was now cut off from all communication with the neighbourhood. The worthy clergyman addressed the Earl of Devonshire, then residing at Chatsworth, acquainting him with his resolution, and requesting that regular supplies of provisions might be duly placed in certain points of the adjacent hills. If this request was attended to, he pledged himself that none of his parishioners should transgress a given boundary. Troughs and wells, which are still there, were dug to secure water supplied by a stream, which to this day bears the hallowed name of Mompesson brook. The following account of this benevolent pastor’s conduct in this emergency is not without interest:
“Aware that any assemblage of people breathing the same air under a confined roof, and coming into immediate contact with each other, must be highly dangerous, he closed the door of the church, availing himself of a nobler substitute “not made with hands,”—a rock that projected from the side of a steep hill, near the village, in a deep and narrow dingle. This rock is excavated through in different directions, the arches being from 12 to 19 feet high. In the middle of this romantic dell, from one of these natural porticoes, three times a week did he read prayers, and twice on Sundays did he address to his death-stricken congregation, the words of eternal life. By his own immediate directions, they arranged themselves on the declivity near the bottom, at the distance of a yard asunder. This spot is deservedly still held sacred, and known by the name of Cucklet church.”
The following letter from this worthy clergyman, dated 20th November, 1666, energetically describes the calamity: