Dinah Morse and her niece Janet were faring sumptuously in Lord
Desborough's house, hard by St. Paul's Churchyard. His young wife
lay sick of a grievous fever, and he was well nigh distracted by
the fear of losing her.
Nothing was too good for her, or for the gentle-faced, soft-voiced
nurses who had come to tend her in her hour of need. The best of
everything was at their disposal; and it was no great source of
regret to them that several of the hired servants had fled before
their arrival, a whisper having gone through the house that her
ladyship had taken the plague.
Dinah and Janet had seen too much of the plague to be deceived by a
few trifling similarities in some of the symptoms. They were able
to assure the distracted husband that it was not the dreaded
distemper, and then they settled to the task of nursing like those
habituated to it; and so different were they in their ways from the
women he had seen before in the office of sick nurse, many of whom
were creatures of no good reputation, and of evil habits and life,
that his mind was almost relieved of its fears and anxiety, and he
began to entertain joyful hopes of the recovery of his spouse.
Upon the Sunday morning which had passed so strangely and
eventfully for those in the east of the city, there was nothing to
disturb the tranquillity of patient or of nurses. It had been a hot
night, and Janet, when she relieved Dinah towards morning, said she
had seen a red light in the sky towards the east, and feared there
had been a bad fire. But neither of them thought much of this; and
when the bell of St. Paul's rang for morning service, Dinah bade
Janet put on her hood and go, for Lady Desborough was sleeping
quietly, and would only need quiet watching for the next few hours.
When Janet entered the great building she was aware that a certain
excitement and commotion seemed to prevail in some of the groups
gathered together in Paul's Walk, as the long nave of the old
building was called. Paul's Walk was a place of no very good
repute, and any modest girl was wont to hurry through it with her
hood drawn and her eyes bent upon the ground. Disgraceful as such
desecration must be accounted, there can be no doubt that Paul's
walk was a regular lounge for the dissipated and licentious young
gallants of the day, a place where barter and traffic were
shamelessly carried on, and where all sorts of evil practices
prevailed.
The sacredness of a building solemnly consecrated to God by their
pious forefathers seemed to mean nothing to the reckless roisterers
of that shameless age. The Puritans during the late civil war had
set the example of desecrating churches, by using them as stables
and hospitals, and for other secular purposes. It was a natural
outcome of such practices that the succeeding generation should go
a step further and do infinitely worse. If God-fearing men did not
scruple to desecrate consecrated churches, was it likely that their
godless successors would have greater misgivings?
Janet therefore hurried along without seeking to know what men were
talking of, and during the time that the service went on she almost
forgot the impression she had taken in on her first entrance.
As she came out she joined the old door porter of Lord Desborough's
house, and was glad to walk with him through the crowded nave and
into the bright, sunny air without.
Although the sun was shining, she was aware of a certain murkiness
in the air, but did not specially heed it until some loudly-spoken
words fell upon her ears.
"But forty hours, and this whole city shall be consumed by fire!"
shouted a strange-looking man, who, in very scanty attire, was
stationed upon the top of the steps, and was declaiming and
gesticulating as he addressed a rather frightened-looking crowd
beneath him. "Within forty hours there shall not be left standing
one stone upon another in all this mighty edifice. The hand of the
Lord is stretched forth against this evil city, and judgment shall
begin at His sanctuary. Beware, and bewail, and repent in dust and
ashes, for the Lord will do a thing this day which will cause the
ears of every one who hears it to tingle. He is coming! He is
coming! He is coming in clouds and majesty in a flaming fire, even
as He appeared on the mount of Sinai! Be ready to meet Him. He
comes to smite and not to spare! His chariots of fire are over us
already. They travel apace upon the wings of the wind. I see them!
I hear them! They come! they come! they come!"
The fanatic waved his hands in the air with frantic gestures, and
pointed eastward. Certainly there did appear to be a strange
murkiness and haze in the air; and was there not a smell as of
burning? or was it but the idea suggested by the man's words? Janet
trembled as she slipped her arm within that of the old porter.
"What does he mean?" she asked nervously. "The people seem very
attentive to hear. They look affrighted, and some of them seem to
tremble. What does it all mean?"
"I scarce know myself. I heard men speak of a terrible fire right
away in the east that has been burning many hours now. But sure
they cannot fear that it will come nigh to St. Paul's. That were
madness indeed! Why, each dry summer, as it comes, brings us plenty
of bad fires. The fellow is but one of those mad fools who love to
scare honest folks out of their senses. Heed him not, mistress.
Belike he knows no more than thou and I. It is his trade to set men
trembling. Let us go home; there is no danger for us."
Rather consoled by these words, and certainly without any real
apprehensions for their personal safety, Janet returned to the
house, where she and Dinah passed a quiet day. Neither of them went
out again; and though they spoke sometimes of the fire, and
wondered if it had been extinguished, they did not suffer any real
anxiety of mind.
"I trust it went not nigh to our homes," said Janet once or twice.
"I would that one of the boys might come and give us news of them.
But if folks are in trouble over yonder, father is certain to have
his hands full. He will never stand by idle whilst other folks are
suffering danger and loss."
"He is a good man," answered Dinah, and with her these words stood
for much.
Towards nightfall Lord Desborough came in with rather an anxious
look upon his face. His eyes first sought the face of his wife; but
seeing her lie in the tranquil sleep which was her best medicine,
he was satisfied of her well being, and without putting his usual
string of questions he began abruptly to ask of Dinah:
"Have you heard news of this terrible fire?"
Both nurses looked earnestly at him.
"Is it not yet extinguished, my lord?"
"Extinguished? no, nor likely to be, if all we hear be true. I have
not seen it with mine own eyes. I was at Whitehall all the day, and
heard no more than that some houses and churches in the east had
been burned. But they say now that the flames are spreading this
way with all the violence of a tempest at sea, and those who have
been to see say that it is like a great sea of fire, rushing over
everything so that nothing can hinder it. The Lord Mayor and his
aldermen have been down since the morning, striving to do what they
can; but, so far as report says, the flames are yet unchecked. It
seems impossible that they should ever reach even to us here; but I
am somewhat full of fear. What would befall my poor young wife if
the fire were to threaten this house?"
Dinah looked grave and anxious. Lady Desborough's condition was
critical, and she could only be moved at considerable risk. But it
seemed impossible that the fire could travel all this distance.
Only the troubled look on the husband's face would have convinced
her that such a thing could be contemplated for a moment even by
the faintest-hearted.
"You would not have us move her now, ere the danger approaches?"
asked the husband anxiously.
"No, my lord. To move her tonight would be, I think, certain
death," answered Dinah gravely. "She has but passed the crisis of a
very serious fever, and is weak as a newborn babe. We will strive
all we can to get up her strength, that she may be able for what
may come. But I trust and hope the fire will be extinguished long
ere it reaches us. Oh, surely never was there fire that burned for
days and destroyed whole streets and parishes!"
"And oh, my lord, can you tell us if the bridge is safe?" asked
Janet clasping her hands together in an agony of uncertainty and
fear. "Have you heard news of the bridge? Oh, say it is not burned!
They all talk of the east, but what does that mean? Who can tell me
if my father's house has escaped?"
Lord Desborough was a very kindly man, and the distress of the girl
touched him.
"I will go forth and ask news of all who have been thither to see,"
he answered. "Many have gone both by land and water to see the
great sight. I would go likewise, save that I fear to leave my
wife. But, at least, I will seek all the news I can get, and come
again to you."
The master of the house went forth, and the two anxious watchers,
after a long look at their patient to satisfy themselves that she
was sleeping peacefully, and not likely to wake suddenly, crept
silently into an adjoining room, where a large window looking
eastward enabled them to see in the sky that strange and terrible
glow, which was so bright and fierce as darkness fell that they
were appalled in beholding it spreading and brightening in the sky.
"Good lack, what a terrible fire it must be!" cried Janet, wringing
her hands together. "O good aunt, what can resist the oncoming fury
of such a fearful conflagration? Would that I knew my father's
house was safe. But, at least, those within must have had warning,
and they could with ease escape by water if even the streets were
in flames. Alack, this poor city! It does indeed seem as though the
vials of God's wrath were being poured out upon it! Will His hand
be stayed till all is destroyed? Surely the hearts of men must turn
back to Him in these days of dire calamity!"
Dinah gravely shook her head, her face lighted up by the
ever-increasing light in the eastern sky, which grew brighter and
brighter with the gathering shades of night.
"Methought in those terrible days of the plague that surely men's
hearts would, for the future, be set upon higher things, seeing how
they had learned by fearful experience that man's life is but a
vapour that the wind carrieth away. But as soon as the pressing
peril abated, they hardened their hearts, and turned hack to their
evil ways. It may be that even this warning will be lost upon them.
God alone knows how many will see His hand in this great judgment,
and will turn to Him in fear if not in love!"
Before many minutes had passed affrighted servants began peeping
and then crowding into the room, as though they felt more assurance
in presence of Dinah's quiet steadfastness and courage. The faces
of the maids were pale with apprehension. It was difficult to
believe, in the midst of this ruddy glare which actually palpitated
as the lights and shadows danced upon the wall, that the fire was
yet as distant as was reported. All the menservants had run out
into the streets after news of the progress of the fire, and the
women were scared by their absence. Dinah did what she could to
calm them, pointing out that since they could as yet neither hear
nor feel anything of so great a fire, it must still be a great way
off. It was hardly possible to believe that it would be permitted
to sweep onwards much longer unchecked. By this time men's minds
must be fully alive to the great peril in which all London stood,
and she doubted not that some wise measures would soon be taken to
stay the spread of the flames. She advised the maidens to go to bed
and not think any more about it. Let them commend themselves to God
and seek to sleep. She would undertake to watch, and to rouse them
up should there be any need during the night.
Somewhat appeased and comforted by these words, the maids withdrew
and sought their needed rest. But Janet and Dinah returned to the
sickroom, resolved to keep vigil there, and only to sleep by turns
upon the couch, ready dressed in case of emergency.
It was nigh upon midnight before Lord Desborough returned, and he
was so blackened and begrimed that they scarcely knew him.
His wife was still sleeping the sleep of exhausted nature, and,
after one glance at her, the young nobleman turned towards Janet,
who was quivering all over in her anxiety to hear the news.
"Well, maiden, thy father's house is safe, and half the bridge is
safe; and the thanks of that are due to him and to a worthy
neighbour, who by their wise exertions stayed the fire, which might
else have spread even to the other side of the river."
Janet and Dinah exchanged looks of unspeakable relief, and Lord
Desborough continued in the same cautious undertone:
"Once out of doors, the fire fever quickly got its hold on me, even
as it has gotten hold upon almost every person in the city. I had
not meant to go far but I took a wherry, and, the tide serving
well, I was swiftly borne along towards the bridge, and from the
river I saw the raging of such a fire as, methinks, the world has
never seen before. No words of mine can paint the awful grandeur of
the sight I saw. It was as light as day upon the water, and there
were times when the river itself seemed ablaze. For, as the flames
wrought havoc amongst the warehouses and stores along the wharfs,
burning masses of oil and tar would pour out upon the bosom of the
water, blazing terribly, and the boatmen had to keep a sharp watch
sometimes lest they and their craft should be engulfed in the fiery
stream. To the ignorant, who knew not what caused the water to wear
this aspect of burning, it appeared as though even the river had
ignited. This increased their terrors tenfold, and they say that
some poor distraught creatures actually flung themselves into the
fire or the water, convinced that the end of the world had come,
and careless as to whether they perished soon or late."
"But my father--my father!" cried Janet earnestly.
"Ah, true, thy father. I heard of him from the watermen in the
wherries, who told me the tale of how he had saved the bridge by
pulling down his workshops and drenching the ruins with water. It
seemeth to me that unless some prompt and resolute course of a
similar kind is taken tomorrow or tonight, infinite loss must
ensue. No ordinary means can now check this great fire. But surely
the Lord Mayor and his advisers will have by now a plan on foot.
Were I not so weary, and anxious about my wife, I would go forth
once more to see what was doing. But I must wait now for the
morrow, and then, pray Heaven all danger may be at an end. Fear
not, good friends, if you hear terrible sounds as of an earthquake
shaking the house this night. Men say that if the city is to be
saved it must be by the blowing up of whole streets of small houses
somewhere in the path of the flames, so that they shall have
nothing whereon to feed. Others say that nothing will stop them,
and that none will be found ready to make sacrifice of their
dwellings for the public good, preferring to risk the chance of the
flames reaching them. I know not the truth of all the rumours
flying about; but the thing might be, and might be wisely done. So
fear not if you should hear some sounds that will make you think of
an earthquake. And call me if aught alarms you, or if my wife
should change either for the better or the worse."
So saying, Lord Desborough took himself off to his well-earned
repose; and the two nurses passed the night, sometimes waking and
sometimes sleeping, but not disturbed by any strange sounds of
explosion, and hopeful, as the night passed without special event,
that the fire had been extinguished.
But morning brought appalling accounts of its spread. Nothing had
been done, it seemed, to stay its course. It had reached Cheapside,
and was rushing a headlong course down it, and even the Guildhall,
men said, would not escape. North and west the great, rolling body
of the flames was spreading; churches were going down before it,
one after the other, as helplessly as the timber and plaster
houses, which burned like so much tinder. Hour after hour as that
day passed by fresh and terrible items of news were brought in.
Would anything ever stop the oncoming sea of fire? Surely--surely
something would be done to save St. Paul's. Surely that magnificent
and time-honoured structure would not be permitted to perish
without some attempt to save it!
Dinah went out at midday for a mouthful of air, leaving Janet in
charge of the sick lady. She turned her steps towards the great
edifice towering up in all its grandeur towards the sunny sky. It
was hard indeed to believe that it could succumb to the devouring
element, so solid and unconsumable it looked. Yet, although all men
were asserting vehemently that "Paul's could never burn," all faces
were looking anxious, and all ears were eagerly attuned to catch
any new item of news which a messenger or passerby might bring.
The murkiness in the air, faintly discernible even yesterday, had
become very marked by this time. The smell of fire was in the air,
although as yet the terrible roaring of the flames, of which all
men who had been near it were speaking, had not yet become audible
in the Babel of talk going on in the streets and about the great
church. The dean and canons were grouped about the precincts,
looking anxiously into each other's faces, as though to seek to
read encouragement from one another. Nothing was talked of but the
fire, the incapacity shown by the civic authorities in dealing with
it, and lamentations that good Sir John Lawrence, who had coped so
ably with the pestilence last year, should be no longer in office
at this second great crisis.
Still it was averred on all hands that something was about to be
done; that it was too scandalous to stand by panic stricken whilst
the whole city perished. Every one seemed to have heard talk
respecting the demolition or blowing up of houses in the path of
the flames; but none could say actually that it had been done, or
was about to be done, in any given locality.
Burned out households were pouring continually along the choked
thoroughfares, striving to find safe places where they might bestow
such goods as they had succeeded in saving. Charitable persons were
occupied in housing and feeding those who had nothing of their own;
whilst others, whose fears were on a larger scale, were fleeing
altogether away from the city to friends in the country beyond,
desiring only to escape the coming judgment, which seemed like that
poured out on Sodom.
Dinah went back with a very grave face to her charge. The poor lady
had now recovered her senses, and though as weak as a newborn babe,
was able to smile from time to time upon her husband, who sat
beside her holding her hand between his. He was so overjoyed at
this happy change in his wife's condition that he had no thought to
spare at this moment for the peril of the city. He asked for no
news as Dinah appeared; and indeed it was very necessary that the
patient should not be in any wise alarmed or excited.
Dinah, however, was becoming very uneasy as time went on; and she
was certain that the air grew darker than could be accounted for by
the falling dusk, and upon going to the east window as the twilight
fell, she was appalled by the awful glare in the sky, and was
certain that now, indeed, she did begin to distinguish the roaring
of the flames as the wind drifted them ever onwards and onwards.
Had it not been for the exceedingly critical state in which the
patient lay, she would have suggested her removal before things
grew worse. As it was, it might be death to move her; and perhaps
the flames would be stayed ere they reached the noble cathedral
pile. Surely every effort would be made for that end. It was
difficult to imagine that the citizens would not combine together
in some great and mighty effort to save their homes and their
sanctuary before it should be too late.
"What an awful sight!" exclaimed a soft voice behind her. "Heaven
grant the peril be not so nigh as it looks!"
It was Lord Desborough, who had come in and was looking with
anxious eyes at the flaming sky, over which great clouds of sparks
and flaming splinters could be seen drifting. It might only be
fancy, but the room seemed to be growing hot with the breath of the
fire. The young nobleman's face was very grave and disturbed.
"What must we do?" he asked of Dinah. "Can she be moved? Ought we
to take her elsewhere?"
"I would we could," answered Dinah, "but she is so weak that it may
be death to carry her hence, and if we spoke to her of this
terrible thing that is happening, the shock might bring back the
fever, and then, indeed, all would be lost."
The husband wrung his hands together in the utmost anxiety. Dinah
stood thinking deeply.
"My lord," she presently said, "it may come to this, that she will
have to be moved, risk or no risk. Should we not think about
whither to take her if it be needful?"
"Ay, verily; but where may that be? Who can know what place is
safe? And to transport her far would be certain death. She would
die on the road thither."
"That is very true, my lord," answered Dinah; "but it has come into
my mind that, perchance, my sister's house could receive her--that
house upon the bridge, which is now safe, and which can be in no
danger again, since all the city about it lies in ashes. By boat we
could transport her most gently of all; and tonight, upon the
rising tide, it might well be done, if the need should become more
pressing."
"A good thought! a happy thought indeed!" cried Lord Desborough.
"But art thou sure that thy good kinsmen will have room within
their walls? They may have befriended so many."
"That is like enow," answered Dinah; "I have thought of that
myself. My lord, methinks it would be a good plan for you to take
boat now, at once, taking the maid Janet with you as a guide and
spokeswoman. She will take you to her father's house and explain
all; and then her father and brothers will come back with you, if
need presses more sorely, and help us to transport thither the poor
lady. I will sit by her the while, and by plying her with cordials
and such food as she can swallow, strive to feed her feeble
strength; and if the flames seem coming nearer and nearer, I will
make shift to dress her in such warm and easy garments as are best
suited to the journey she may have to take. And I will trust to you
to be back to save us ere the danger be over great."
"That I will! that I will!" cried the eager husband. "The plan is
an excellent one! I will lose not a moment in acting upon it. I
like not the look of yon sky. I fear me there will be no staying
the raging of the flames. I will lose not a minute. Bid the girl be
ready, and we will forth at once. We will take boat at Baynard's
Castle, and be back again ere two hours have passed!"
Janet was delighted with the plan. She was restless and nervous
here, and anxiously eager to know what had befallen her own people.
She would gladly have had Dinah to go also, but saw that the sick
lady could not be left, and that it would not be right to move her
save on urgent necessity; but to go and get a band of eager helpers
to come to the rescue if need be satisfied her entirely, and she
said a joyful farewell to her aunt, promising to send help right
speedily.
Left alone with her patient, Dinah commenced her task of feeding
the lamp of life, and seeking by every means in her power to
prepare the patient for the possible transit. Once she was called
from the room by some commotion without, and found the frightened
servants all huddled together outside the door, uncertain whether
to fly the place altogether or to wait till some one came with
definite news as to the magnitude of the peril. The light in the
sky was terrible. The showers of sparks were falling all round the
houses and the cathedral. The roar of the approaching fire began to
be clearly distinguished above every other sound.
Dinah, who knew that tumult and affright were the worst things
possible for her patient, counselled the cowering maids to make
good their escape at once, since there was nothing to be done in
the house that night, and they were far too frightened to sleep.
All had friends who would give them shelter. And soon the house was
silent and empty, for the men had gone off either to the fire or
out of sheer fright, and Dinah was left quite alone with her
patient.
"What is that noise I hear all the time?" asked Lady Desborough
presently, in a feeble voice. "I feel as though there was something
burning in the room. The air seems thick and heavy. Is it my
fantasy, or do I smell burning? Where is my husband? Is there
something the matter going on?"
"There is a bad fire not very far from here, my lady," answered
Dinah quietly. "My lord has gone to see if it be like to spread,
that he may take such steps as are needful. Be not anxious; we are
safe beneath his care. He will let no hurt come nigh us before he
is back to tell us what we shall do."
A tranquil smile lighted the lady's face at these words. She was in
that state of weakness when the mind is not easily ruffled, and
Dinah's calm face and steady voice were very tranquillizing.
"Ah yes, my good lord will not let hurt come nigh us. We will await
his good pleasure. I trust no poor creatures are in peril? There
will be many to help them I trow?"
"Yes, my lady. I have not heard of lives lost; and many say that it
is good for some of the old houses to burn, that they may build
better ones little by little. Now take this cordial, and sleep once
more. I will awaken you when my lord returns."
The lady obeyed, and soon slept again, her pulse stronger and
firmer and her mind at rest.
But Dinah was growing very uneasy. Far though she was above the
street, she heard shouts and cries--muffled and distant truly, but
very apparent to her strained faculties--all indicative of alarm
and the presence of peril. She dared not leave her post at the
bedside, but the air was becoming so thick with smoke that the
patient coughed from time to time, and the nurse was not certain
how much longer it would be possible to breathe in it. She was
certain, too, that the place was becoming hot, increasingly hot,
each minute.
Oh, where was Lord Desborough? why did he not come? At last she
stole from the room and into the adjoining chamber, and then indeed
an awful sight met her shrinking gaze.
A pillar of lambent flame, which seemed to her to be close at hand,
was rising up in the air as though it reached the very heavens. It
swayed slowly this way and that, surrounded by clouds of crimson
smoke and a veritable furnace of sparks. Then, as she watched with
awed and fascinated gaze, it suddenly seemed to make a bound
towards the tower of St. Paul's standing up majestic and beautiful
against the fiery sky. It fastened upon it like a living monster
greedy of prey. Tongues of flame seemed to be licking it on all
sides, and a mass of fire encircled it.
With a gasp of fear and horror Dinah turned away.
"St. Paul's on fire!" she exclaimed beneath her breath; "God in His
mercy have pity upon us! Can any one save us now?"