_Camping out in Epping Forest_
WHEN I returned Home, my Neighbours looked strangely on me, as though I were
one risen from the Dead, after nursing two People through the Plague
without Hurt. I said not much, however, to any of them except to
_Violet_.
When I had told her all I had to tell, she said, “Well, I think the Tale
ends rather flatly: you and Master _Blower_ might as well have made a
Match of it.”
“Truly, _Violet_,” said I, “I think Women of our age may be capable of a
disinterested Action, without Question of Matchmaking.”
“As to Women of _our_ Age,” retorted she, “speak for yourself, if you
please! You may make out yourself to be as old as you will; but I mean
to stick at Twenty-eight!”
I said not another Word, but secretly wondered how strangely tender some
People are on the Subject of Age. Even Master _Blower_, who had owned to
Forty-four, did not like me to reckon him at Fifty.
It was now quite the latter End of _October_, the Distemper was abating,
and People were beginning to venture back to their Homes, and a few
Shops were re-opened. _Hugh Braidfoot_ and his Family returned among the
rest. But too heedless an Exposure to the Infection yet lingering among
us caused the Distemper to rage again with great Fury before it abated
for good.
I now kept myself close, and spent the Chief of the Day at my Needle or
Book, working much for the Poor, who were like enough to be destitute in
the Winter. First, however, I put on Mourning for my poor, dear Father,
whom I could not bear to deny this Mark of Remembrance, though the
Mortality being so great, People had quite left off wearing Black for
their Friends. Much he dwelt in my sad, solitary Thoughts; and when they
ran not on him, they chiefly settled on Master _Blower_. The more I
considered their Characters, the more Beauty I found in them.
I never opened the Shop-shutters now, except for a little Light. Trade
was utterly stagnant; and my Father’s Business had dropped with him. The
little I might have done in the Perfumery Line, had the Town not been
empty, would not have been worth speaking of: it was a Mercy, therefore,
that my dear Father had left me well provided.
One Evening, when it was getting too dusk to work or read, and I was
falling into a Muse, a tall Shadow darkened the Door, which happened to
be ajar, and the next Moment a Man whom I did not immediately recognise,
entered the Parlour and stepped up to me.
“_Cherry!_ dear _Cherry_!” he said in a stifled Voice, and took me in
his Arms with a Brother’s Affection. It was poor _Mark_.
“Dear _Mark_!” I said, “where _have_ you been? Oh, how often have I
thought of you!”
“Aye, _Cherry_, well you might, and pray for me, too,” said he, somewhat
wildly. “Oh, what a Tale I have to tell you!—You will either hate or
despise me.”
“You are ill, very ill,” said I, looking fearfully at his haggard Face;
“let me give you Something before you say another Word.”
“Wine, then,” said he; and drank with avidity the Glass I poured out,
and then filled it again himself. “Thanks, dear _Cherry_!—will my Uncle
be coming in?”
I looked at him and at my Dress, and could not speak; but there was no
need—“Ah!”—said he; and wrung my Hand, and then dropped it.
[Illustration]
“_Cherry_,” said he, after a Moment’s Pause, “you know how afraid I was
of the Plague, and how my Wife taunted me for it, and for taking the
commonest Precautions. She herself braved it, defied it; secure in her
Amulet and Fortune-telling. What was worse, she cruelly exposed her
Servants to it, for the merest Trifles. We had Words about it often:
bitter Words, at last—She accused me, utterly without Foundation, of
caring more for the Servant-girl than for her, reviled me for tempting
my own Fate by Fear; finally, said I should be no great Loss, for I had
never cared much for her, nor she for me. All this embittered me against
her. Well, the poor Maid caught the Plague at the Butchers’ Stalls, and,
the next Night, was in the Dead-cart. The following Day, our youngest
’Prentice died. The other decamped in the Night. I now became nearly Mad
with Fear and Anger; and, finding my Wife would not stir, or at least,
as she said, ‘not yet,’ I considered that Self-preservation was the
first Law of Nature; and, taking a good Supply of Money with me, I left
the House in the Night. Fear of being driven back was my sole Feeling
till I got clear out of _London_; then, I began to have an Impression I
had done wrong. But ’twas Death, ’twas Madness to think of turning back.
On I went....
“It had been my Impression, _Cherry_, that, with plenty of Money in my
Pocket, I could make my Way wherever I would; but now, in whatever
Direction I went, I came upon a Watchman, who, because I had no Clean
Bill of Health to show, would not let me pass. At length, after running
hither and thither, throughout the Night, I came upon a couple of Men,
with a small Cart and Horse. They seemed to be in the same Strait as
myself, and talked of fetching a Compass to _Bow_. I asked them to let
me join them, and they consented. They were a rough Sort of Fellows; one
it seemed had deserted his Mother, the other his Wife. Their Conduct,
and their brutal Way of talking of it, only made mine seem more ugly.
“On _Bow Bridge_ the Watch would have questioned us, but we crossed the
Road into a narrow Way leading to _Old Ford_. Afterwards we got on to
_Homerton_ and _Hackney_, and at length into the northern Road. Here we
went on till we saw some Men running towards us; then we struck into a
Lane, halted at a Barn, and had some Bread and Cheese. The Food was
theirs, but I paid for my Share; and I saw them curiously eyeing my
Money. Afterwards they asked one or two Questions about my Resources,
which I did not much like.
“Well, we kept on till we were many Miles from _London_, occasionally
dodging Villages and Constables. At Nightfall we reached the Skirt of a
Wood. Here my Companions proposed to sleep; but as soon as they were
fairly off, I stole away. I wandered a long Way from them in the Wood;
at length took refuge in a Cow-shed. I thought I heard Voices, not far
off, which made me uneasy; however, I was so tired that I fell asleep.
“As soon as Day dawned, I made off; and, not knowing which Track to
take, went on at Random, till I came to a large old Barn. To my
Surprise, I heard some one praying within. I looked in, and saw, not
one, but a dozen Men, and two or three Women and Children. I stood
reverently aside till the old Man had done, and heard him pray that they
might all continue to be spared from the awful Visitation. When they
uncovered their Faces, I stept forward, on which there was a loud Cry,
and they warned me off. It was to no Use speaking, they would not hear
me as I had no Passport. Dispirited and hungry, I strayed away till I
came to the Skirt of the Wood, in Sight of a Cluster of Houses. I was
about to make for them, when three Men, with a Pitchfork, Bludgeon, and
Horsewhip, rushed upon me and collared me, saying, ‘Here’s one of
them!’—I struggled, and said, ‘One of whom? I belong to no Party, and am
a healthy, innocent Man.’ ‘That sounds well,’ said one of them, ‘but we
guess you are one of a Gang that, after threatening and intimidating our
Town yesterday, broke into a lone Farmhouse last Night; so we’ll take
you before a Magistrate.’ ‘Do so,’ said I, ‘for it will be better than
starving in the Wood, and I shall be able to clear myself.’ So, after a
Time, finding I made no Resistance, they gave over dragging me, and let
me walk by myself, only keeping close about me, with an ugly Bull-dog at
my Heels. However, I did not feel over-sure, _Cherry_, that my Story
would satisfy the Magistrate, so when we reached a small Public-house
where we found a Constable, I privately slipped a Half-crown into his
Hand, and he, after a little Parley, gave it as his Opinion that I was
an honest Man, whereon the others desisted from giving me in Charge. But
they would by no Means admit me into the House, only brought out some
Bread and Beer and set them at a Distance, and then went away while I
ate and drank.
“There seemed nothing to do but to turn again into the Wood; and as I
was without Object, foot-sore, and spiritless, I paused at the first
inviting Spot I came to, and cast myself along under a Tree. Here I
suppose I slept a good While: when I awoke, it was with a strange Sense
of Depression, and it occurred to me I might be plague-stricken after
all. As if I could fly yet from the Distemper, if that were the Case, I
resolved to be moving; for I had no Mind to die like a Rat in a Hole.
Just then I heard Voices close on the other Side the Tree; and, eyeing
the Speakers between the Branches, could make out a numerous Band of Men
and a few Women, who were eating and drinking. I did not like their
Appearance much, and thought of retreating, when one of them, seeing me
stir, cries,—‘A Spy!’ and drags me into the Midst. I was pretty roughly
handled till they settled it to their Minds I was a harmless Sort of a
Fellow; and then they told me they would let me join the Crew if I would
cast my Lot among them, and put whatever I had about me into the common
Stock. I was no Ways minded to do this; however, I gave them a few
Shillings, which, after a little Demur, they took, and I then was free
of the Company. I soon had Reason to apprehend they were the Band who
had affrighted the Townsmen the Day before, and plundered the Farm in
the Night; and it seemed as if a select Council of them were concerting
Something of the Sort again, though they did not invite me to
participate. As this was not the Sort of Company I had any Mind to
associate with, I dragged through the Afternoon and Evening as well as I
could, mostly apart. They then began to put up Booths and Tents for the
Night, at which I was glad to assist, rather than do Nothing; but I lay
a little Way off, under a Tree. In the Night I felt some one lugging at
the little Parcel of Clothing I laid my Head upon.—I hit a Blow at
Random, which made whoever it was move off without a Word; and then I
thought it was Time for me to move off too. I got away unperceived, and
could not settle again all Night. When Day broke, I was in a Part of the
Forest that was new to me.... The Sun was shining on some gnarled old
Oaks, and along green Glades; there were Birds singing, Hares running
across the Grass, and Wildflowers overhanging a little Brook of clear
Water. Oh, _Cherry_! how I should have enjoyed idling in such a Place if
I had had a quiet Mind!
“I drank some Water, and washed my Face; and just then I saw some Women
passing through the Trees, carrying large, country Loaves, and tin Cans
of Milk. They did not see me, but set down their Burthens near a large
Stone. Then they retreated and stood a little Way off, and presently,
two pretty-looking Girls came tripping out of the Wood, took up the
Loaves, emptied the Milk into brown Pitchers of their own, put some
Silver on the Stone, and cried, ‘Here’s your Money, good People!’”
[Illustration]
“Then they returned into the Wood, and I followed them. I said, ‘Shall I
carry one of your Pitchers?’ They looked affrighted, and cried, ‘Pray,
Sir, keep off ... how do we know that you may not have the Plague?’ I
said, ‘I assure you, it was to escape from the Plague that I came into
the Wood, and here I seem likely to starve, though I have Plenty of
Money.’ They looked at one another, and said, ‘If it be true, his Case
is hard,—let us tell my Father.’ They went away, and by and by an
elderly Man came to me from among the Trees. He questioned me very
narrowly, and satisfying himself at length that I was both sound and
respectable, he admitted me to their little Encampment, which consisted
of five or six little Huts, a Family in each; besides a few Cabins the
single Men had set up for themselves. I did the like, added my Stock to
theirs, and continued with them all the Time their Encampment lasted,
which was till Yesterday, when, the Weather turning cold, and the News
of the Abatement of the Distemper having reached us, we resolved to
return to our Homes.—I could make you quite in Love with our Camp Life,
_Cherry_, if I chose to enlarge upon some Things, and leave others out
of Sight,—in short, make it appear the Thing it was not. But, honestly
speaking, though we were very thankful to buy our Safety at the Price of
much Inconvenience, all the Romance of our Situation soon faded away,
and we were right glad to set our Faces homewards again, even without
being fully certified we could do so with Impunity.”
“But, to what a Home did I return! The House was padlocked up, and
Everything in the Possession of the _Lord Mayor_. And, from a Watchman
out of Employ, who was taking Care of a House over the Way, and who did
not know me, I heard the Circumstances of my Wife’s frightful Death. Oh,
_Cherry_! we did not care for each other much; but I fear it was
cowardly and cruel of me to forsake her!”
—And _Mark_ laid his Head on his Arms and wept. Presently he said, “What
to do, I know not. I shall be able, by Application to the _Lord Mayor_
to-morrow, to get back my House and Property; but—to tell you the
Truth—I have no great Fancy to go back there; at any Rate, till the
House has been well fumigated. So that ... will you take Compassion on
me, and let me return awhile to my old Quarters, _Cherry_?”
Of course I said I would.
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