I'm Joan Vicent Franco, bookseller and plague victim.

I thought death was a certain at an uncertain time, but now I know that, affected by buboes, I have no more than three days and I intend to face them with dignity and Christian compassion. Valencia is suffering the worst pestilence in living memory. It started last year, 1647, a year of need and poverty. The ships brought no relief; the wheat used for storing in the silos of Burjassot. The township increased prices to pay for the war in Catalonia and Canvis Taula could not satisfy their customers. If the rich thought they had problems, many people were only able to live off bread and grapes. In early June, there were more deaths than usual in Russafa because of the corruption of the air. The doctors failed to apply the necessary remedies to prevent the evil from spreading and the contagion invaded San Dionís and Valencia. Then the doctors felt that evil was plague and had come with from Algiers, so that all ships were quarantined. They burned the goods, clothes and objects suspected of infection. Those who were ill were held in infirmaries, the poor and homeless were expelled. Cleaning the city’s filth was intensified and the streets were watered with vinegar. But the disease was already everywhere. Over 15,000 people have died, more than a quarter of the city.