at the house of Mr. Lempriere, the British Consul.  Inquiring of him upon the subject, the old man lifted up his hands, and replied in a passionate manner, which I shall never forget, “Oh, sir, we escaped by the mercy of God; only by the mercy of God!” The governor of Algarve, even when the danger was known and acknowledged, would not venture to prohibit the communication with Spain till he received orders from Lisbon; and then the prohibition was so enforced as to be useless.  The crew of a boat from the infected province were seized and marched through the country to Tavira:  they were then sent to perform quarantine upon a little insulated ground, and the guards who were set over them, lived with them, and were regularly relieved.  When such were the precautionary measures, well indeed might it be said, that Portugal escaped only by the mercy of God!  I have often reflected upon the little effect which this imminent danger appeared to produce upon those persons with whom I associated.  The young, with that hilarity which belongs to thoughtless youth, used to converse about the places whither they should retire, and the course of life and expedients to which they should be driven in case it were necessary for them to fly from Lisbon.  A few elder and more considerate persons said little upon the subject, but that little denoted a deep sense of the danger, and more anxiety than they thought proper to express.  The great majority seemed to be altogether unconcerned; neither their business nor their amusements were interrupted; they feasted, they danced, they met at the card-table as usual; and the plague (for so it was called at that time, before its nature was clearly understood) was as regular a topic of conversation as the news brought by the last packet.

Sir Thomas More.—­And what was your own state of mind?

Montesinos.—­Very much what it has long been with regard to the moral pestilence of this unhappy age, and the condition of this country more especially.  I saw the danger in its whole extent and relied on the mercy of God.

Sir Thomas More.—­In all cases that is the surest reliance:  but when human means are available, it becomes a Mahommedan rather than a Christian to rely upon Providence or fate alone, and make no effort for its own preservation.  Individuals never fall into this error among you, drink as deeply as they may of fatalism; that narcotic will sometimes paralyse the moral sense, but it leaves the faculty of worldly prudence unimpaired.  Far otherwise is it with your government:  for such are the notions of liberty in England, that evils of every kind—­physical, moral, and political, are allowed their free range.  As relates to infectious diseases, for example, this kingdom is now in a less civilised state than it was in my days, three centuries ago, when the leper was separated from general society; and when, although the science of medicine was at once barbarous and fantastical, the existence of pesthouses showed at least some approaches towards a medical police.