The Storm

by Daniel Defoe

  It is the receiv’d Opinion of abundance of People, that they felt, during the impetuous fury of the Wind, several Movements of the Earth; and we have several Letters which affirm it: But as an Earthquake must have been so general, that every body must have discern’d it; and as the People were in their Houses when they imagin’d they felt it, the Shaking and Terror of which might deceive their Imagination, and impose upon their Judgment; I shall not venture to affirm it was so: And being resolv’d to use so much Caution in this Relation as to transmit nothing to Posterity without authentick Vouchers, and such Testimony as no reasonable Man will dispute; so if any Relation come in our way, which may afford us a Probability, tho’ it may be related for the sake of its Strangeness or Novelty, it shall nevertheless come in the Company of all its Uncertainties, and the Reader left to judge of its Truth: for this Account had not been undertaken, but with design to undeceive the World in false Relations, and to give an Account back’d with such Authorities, as that the Credit of it shou’d admit of no Disputes.

  For this reason I cannot venture to affirm that there was any such thing as an Earthquake; but the Concern and Consternation of all People was so great, that I cannot wonder at their imagining several things which were not, any more than their enlarging on things that were, since nothing is more frequent, than for Fear to double every Object, and impose upon the Understanding, strong Apprehensions being apt very often to perswade us of the Reality of such things which we have no other reasons to shew for the probability of, than what are grounded in those Fears which prevail at that juncture.

  Others thought they heard it thunder. ’Tis confess’d, the Wind by its unusual Violence made such a noise in the Air as had a resemblance to Thunder; and ’twas observ’d, the roaring had a Voice as much louder than usual, as the Fury of the Wind was greater than was ever known: the Noise had also something in it more formidable; it sounded aloft, and roar’d not very much unlike remote Thunder.

  And yet tho’ I cannot remember to have heard it thunder, or that I saw any Lightning, or heard of any that did in or near London; yet in the Counties the Air was seen full of Meteors and vaporous Fires: and in some places both Thundrings and unusual Flashes of Lightning, to the great terror of the Inhabitants.

  And yet I cannot but observe here, how fearless such People as are addicted to Wickedness, are both of God’s Judgments and uncommon Prodigies; which is visible in this Particular, That a Gang of hardned Rogues assaulted a Family at Poplar, in the very Height of the Storm, broke into the House, and robb’d them: it is observable, that the People cryed Thieves, and after that cryed Fire, in hopes to raise the Neighbourhood, and to get some Assistance; but such is the Power of Self-Preservation, and such was the Fear, the Minds of the People were possess’d with, that no Body would venture out to the Assistance of the distressed Family, who were rifled and plundered in the middle of all the Extremity of the Tempest.

  It would admit of a large Comment here, and perhaps not very unprofitable, to examine from what sad Defect in Principle it must be that Men can be so destitute of all manner of Regard to invisible and superiour Power, to be acting one of the vilest Parts of a Villain, while infinite Power was threatning the whole World with Disolation, and Multitudes of People expected the Last Day was at Hand.

  Several Women in the City of London who were in Travail,12 or who fell into Travail by the Fright of the Storm, were oblig’d to run the risque of being delivered with such Help as they had; and Midwives found their own Lives in such Danger, that few of them thought themselves oblig’d to shew any Concern for the Lives of others.

  Fire was the only Mischief that did not happen to make the Night compleatly dreadful; and yet that was not so every where, for in Norfolk the Town of—was almost ruin’d by a furious Fire, which burnt with such Vehemence, and was so fann’d by the Tempest, that the Inhabitants had no Power to concern themselves in the extinguishing it; the Wind blew the Flames, together with the Ruines, so about, that there was no standing near it; for if the People came to Windward they were in Danger to be blown into the Flames; and if to Leeward the Flames were so blown up in their Faces, they could not bear to come near it.

  If this Disaster had happen’d in London, it must have been very fatal; for as no regular Application could have been made for the extinguishing it, so the very People in Danger would have had no Opportunity to have sav’d their Goods, and hardly their Lives: for though a Man will run any Risque to avoid being burnt, yet it must have been next to a Miracle, if any Person so oblig’d to escape from the Flames had escap’d being knock’d on the Head in the Streets; for the Bricks and Tiles flew about like small Shot; and ’twas a miserable Sight, in the Morning after the Storm, to see the Streets covered with Tyle-sherds, and Heaps of Rubbish, from the Tops of the Houses, lying almost at every Door.

  From Two of the Clock the Storm continued, and encreased till Five in the Morning; and from Five, to half an Hour after Six, it blew with the greatest Violence: the Fury of it was so exceeding great for that particular Hour and half, that if it had not abated as it did, nothing could have stood its Violence much longer.

  In this last Part of the Time the greatest Part of the Damage was done: Several Ships that rode it out till now, gave up all; for no Anchor could hold. Even the Ships in the River of Thames were all blown away from their Moorings, and from Execution-Dock to Lime-House Hole there was but four Ships that rid it out, the rest were driven down into the Bite, as the Sailors call it, from Bell-Wharf to Lime-House; where they were huddeld together and drove on Shore, Heads and Sterns, one upon another, in such a manner, as any one would have thought it had been impossible: and the Damage done on that Account was incredible.

  Together with the Violence of the Wind, the Darkness of the Night added to the Terror of it; and as it was just New Moon, the Spring Tides being then up at about Four a Clock, made the Vessels, which were a-float in the River, drive the farther up upon the Shore: of all which, in the Process of this Story, we shall find very strange Instances.

  The Points from whence the Wind blew, are variously reported from various Hands: ’Tis certain, it blew all the Day before at S. W. and I thought it continued so till about Two a Clock; when, as near as I could judge by the Impressions it made on the House, for we durst not look out, it veer’d to the S. S. W. then to the W. and about Six a Clock to W. by N. and still the more Northward it shifted, the harder it blew, till it shifted again Southerly about Seven a Clock; and as it did so, it gradually abated.

  About Eight a Clock in the Morning it ceased so much, that our Fears were also abated, and People began to peep out of Doors; but ’tis impossible to express the Concern that appear’d in every Place: the Distraction and Fury of the Night was visible in the Faces of the People, and every Body’s first Work was to visit and enquire after Friends and Relations. The next Day or Two was almost entirely spent in the Curiosity of the People, in viewing the Havock the Storm had made, which was so universal in London, and especially in the Out-Parts,13 that nothing can be said sufficient to describe it.

  Another unhappy Circumstance with which this Disaster was join’d, was a prodigious Tide, which happen’d the next Day but one, and was occasion’d by the Fury of the Winds: which is also a Demonstration, that the Winds veer’d for Part of the Time to the Northward: and as it is observable, and known by all that understand our Sea Affairs, that a North West Wind makes the Highest Tide, so this blowing to the Northward, and that with such unusual Violence, brought up the Sea raging in such a manner, that in some Parts of England ’twas incredible, the Water rising Six or Eight Foot higher than it was ever known to do in the Memory of Man; by which Ships were fleeted up upon the firm Land several Rods14 off from the Banks, and an incredible Number of Cattle and People drown’d; as in the Pursuit of this Story will appear.

  It was a special Providence that so directed the Waters, that in the River of Thames, the Tide, though it rise higher than usual, yet it did not so prodigiously exceed; but the Height of them as it w
as, prov’d very prejudicial to abundance of People whose Cellars and Ware-houses were near the River; and had the Water risen a Foot higher, all the Marshes and Levels on both sides the River had been over-flowed, and a great part of the Cattle drowned.

  Though the Storm abated with the rising of the Sun, it still blew exceeding hard; so hard, that no Boats durst stir out on the River, but on extraordinary Occasions: and about Three a Clock in the Afternoon, the next Day being Saturday, it increas’d again, and we were in a fresh Consternation, lest it should return with the same Violence. At Four it blew an extreme Storm, with Sudden Gusts as violent as any time of the Night; but as it came with a great black Cloud, and some Thunder, it brought a hasty Shower of Rain which allay’d the Storm: so that in a quarter of an Hour it went off, and only continued blowing as before.

  This sort of Weather held all Sabbath-Day and Monday, till on Tuesday Afternoon it encreased again; and all Tuesday Night it blew with such Fury, that many Families were afraid to go to Bed: And had not the former terrible Night harden’d the People to all things less than it self, this Night would have pass’d for a Storm fit to have been noted in our Almanacks.15 Several Stacks of Chimneys that stood out the great Storm, were blown down in this; several Ships which escap’d in the great Storm, perish’d this Night; and several People who had repair’d their Houses, had them untiled again. Not but that I may allow those Chimneys that fell now might have been disabled before.

  At this Rate it held blowing till Wednesday about One a Clock in the Afternoon, which was that Day Seven-night on which it began; so that it might be called one continued Storm from Wednesday Noon to Wednesday Noon: in all which time, there was not one Interval of Time in which a Sailor would not have acknowledged it blew a Storm; and in that time two such terrible Nights as I have describ’d.

  And this I particularly noted as to Time, Wednesday, Nov. the 14th was a calm fine Day as at that time of Year shall be seen; till above Four a Clock, when it began to be Cloudy, and the Wind rose of a sudden, and in half an Hours Time it blew a Storm. Wednesday, Dec. the 2d. it was very tempestuous all the Morning; at One a Clock the Wind abated, the Sky clear’d, and by Four a Clock there was not a Breath of Wind.

  Thus ended the Greatest and the Longest Storm that ever the World saw. The Effects of this terrible Providence are the Subject of the ensuing Chapter; and I close this with a Pastoral Poem sent us among the Accounts of the Storm from a very ingenious Author, and desir’d to be publish’d in this Account.

  A PASTORAL, Occasion’d by the Late Violent Storm

  Damon, Melibáus.16

  DAM.

  Walking alone by pleasant Isis17 side

  Where the two Streams their wanton course divide,

  And gently forward in soft Murmurs glide;

  Pensive and sad I Melibáus meet,

  And thus the melancholy Shepherd greet.

  Kind Swain, what Cloud dares overcast your brow,

  Bright as the Skies o’re happy Nile till now!

  Does Chloe prove unkind, or some new Fair?

  MEL.

  No Damon, mine’s a publick, nobler, Care;

  Such in which you and all the World must share.

  One Friend may mollifie another’s Grief,

  But publick Loss admits of no relief.

  DAM.

  I guess your Cause: O you that use to sing

  Of Beauty’s Charms and the Delights of Spring;

  Now change your Note, and let your Lute rehearse

  The dismal Tale in melancholy Verse.

  MEL.

  Prepare then, lovely Swain; prepare to hear,

  The worst Report that ever reach’d your Ear.

  My Bower you know, hard by yon shady Grove,

  A fit Recess for Damons’ pensive Love:

  As there dissolv’d I in sweet Slumbers lay,

  Tir’d with the Toils of the precedent Day,

  The blust’ring Winds disturb my kind Repose,

  Till frightned with the threatning Blasts, I rose.

  But O, what havock did the Day disclose!

  Those charming Willows which on Cherwels’ banks18

  Flourish’d, and thriv’d, and grew in evener ranks

  Than those which follow’d the Divine Command

  Of Orpheus Lyre, or sweet Amphions’ Hand,19

  By hundreds fall, while hardly twenty stand. 30

  The stately Oaks which reach’d the azure Sky,

  And kiss’d the very Clouds, now prostrate lie.

  Long a huge Pine did with the Winds contend;

  This way, and that, his reeling Trunk they bend,

  Till forc’d at last to yield, with hideous Sound

  He falls, and all the Country feels the Wound.

  Nor was the God of Winds content with these;

  Such humble Victims can’t his Wrath appease:

  The Rivers swell, not like the happy Nile,

  To fatten, dew, and fructifie our Isle:

  But like the Deluge, by great Jove design’d

  To drown the Universe, and scourge Mankind.

  In vain the frighted Cattel climb so high,

  In vain for Refuge to the Hills they fly;

  The Waters know no Limits but the Sky.

  So now the bleating Flock exchange in vain,

  For barren Clifts, their dewy fertil Plain:

  In vain, their fatal Destiny to shun,

  From Severns’ Banks to higher Grounds they run.

  Nor has the Navy better Quarter found;

  There we’ve receiv’d our worst, our deepest Wound.

  The Billows swell, and haughty Neptune20 raves,

  The Winds insulting o’re th’ impetuous Waves.

  Thetis21 incens’d, rises with angry Frown,

  And once more threatens all the World to drown,

  And owns no Power, but Englands’ and her own.

  Yet the áolian God22 dares vent his Rage;

  And ev’n the Sovereign of the Seas engage.

  What tho’ the mighty Charles of Spains’23 on board,

  The Winds obey none but their blust’ring Lord.

  Some Ships were stranded, some by Surges rent,

  Down with their Cargo to the bottom went.

  Th’ absorbent Ocean could desire no more;

  So well regal’d he never was before.

  The hungry Fish could hardly wait the day,

  When the Sun’s beams should chase the Storm away,

  But quickly seize with greedy Jaws their Prey.

  DAM.

  So the great Trojan, by the Hand of Fate,

  And haughty Power of angry Junos’ Hate,24

  While with like aim he cross’d the Seas, was tost,

  From Shore to Shore, from foreign Coast to Coast:

  Yet safe at last his mighty Point he gain’d;

  In charming promis’d Peace and Splendor reign’d.

  MEL.

  So may Great Charles, whom equal Glories move,

  Like the great Dardan Prince25 successful prove:

  Like him, with Honour may he mount the Throne,

  And long enjoy a brighter destin’d Crown.

  CHAPTER IV

  Of the Extent of this Storm, and from what Parts it was suppos’d to come; with some Circumstances as to the Time of it

  As all our Histories are full of the Relations of Tempests and Storms which have happened in various Parts of the World, I hope it may not be improper that some of them have been thus observ’d with their remarkable Effects.

  But as I have all along insisted, that no Storm since the Universal Deluge was like this, either in its Violence or its Duration, so I must also confirm it as to the particular of its prodigious Extent.

  All the Storms and Tempests we have heard of in the World, have been Gusts or Squauls of Wind that have been carried on in their proper Channels, and have spent their Force in a shorter space.

  We feel nothing here of the Hurricanes of Barbadoes, the North-Wests of New England and Virgin
ia, the terrible Gusts of the Levant, or the frequent Tempests of the North Cape. When Sir Francis Wheelers’ Squadron perish’d at Gibralter, when the City of Straelsond1 was almost ruin’d by a Storm, England felt it not, nor was the Air here disturb’d with the Motion. Even at home we have had Storms of violent Wind in one part of England which have not been felt in another. And if what I have been told has any truth in it, in St. Georges’ Channel there has frequently blown a Storm at Sea right up and down the Channel, which has been felt on neither Coast, tho it is not above 20 Leagues from the English to the Irish Shore.

  Sir William Temple2 gives us the Particulars of two terrible Storms in Holland while he was there; in one of which the great Cathedral Church at Utrecht was utterly destroy’d: and after that there was a Storm so violent in Holland, that 46 Vessels were cast away at the Texel,3 and almost all the Men drowned: and yet we felt none of these Storms here.

  And for this very reason I have reserv’d an Abridgment of these former Cases to this place; which as they are recited by Sir William Temple, I shall put them down in his own Words, being not capable to mend them, and not vain enough to pretend to it.

  ‘I stay’d only a Night at Antwerp, which pass’d with so great Thunders and Lightnings, that I promis’d my self a very fair Day after it, to go back to Rotterdam in the States Yacht, that still attended me. The Morning prov’d so; but towards Evening the Sky grew foul, and the Sea men presag’d ill Weather, and so resolved to lie at Anchor before Bergen ap Zoom, the Wind being cross and little. When the Night was fallen as black as ever I saw, it soon began to clear up, with the most violent Flashes of Lightning as well as Cracks of Thunder, that I believe have ever been heard in our Age and Climate. This continued all Night; and we felt such a fierce Heat from every great Flash of Lightning, that the Captain apprehended it would fire his Ship. But about 8 the next Morning the Wind changed, and came up with so strong a Gale, that we came to Rotterdam in about 4 Hours, and there found all Mouths full of the Mischiefs and Accidents that the last Night’s Tempest had occasioned both among the Boats and the Houses, by the Thunder, Lightning, Hail, or Whirlwinds. But the Day after came Stories to the Hague from all Parts, of such violent Effects as were almost incredible: At Amsterdam they were deplorable, many Trees torn up by the Roots, Ships sunk in the Harbour, and Boats in the Channels; Houses beaten down, and several People were snatch’d from the Ground as they walk’d the Streets, and thrown into the Canals. But all was silenc’d by the Relations from Utrecht, where the Great and Ancient Cathedral was torn in pieces by the Violences of this Storm; and the vast Pillars of Stone that supported it, were wreathed like a twisted Club, having been so strongly compos’d and cimented, as rather to suffer such a Change of Figure than break in pieces, as other Parts of the Fabrick did; hardly any Church in the Town escap’d the Violence of this Storm; and very few Houses without the Marks of it; Nor were the Effects of it less astonishing by the Relations from France and Brussels, where the Damages were infinite, as well from Whirlwinds, Thunder, Lightning, as from Hail-stones of prodigious Bigness. This was in the Year 1674.