plans would be defeated in an unexpected manner. He engaged Dallison to
procure another trusty companion to take his place at night, and
furnished him with money to purchase arms. He no longer slept as
tranquilly as before, but frequently repaired to his place of
observation to see that the watchman was at his post, and that all was
secure. For the last few days, he had remarked with some uneasiness that
a youth frequently passed the house and gazed at the barred windows, and
he at first imagined he might be leagued with the nocturnal marauders he
had heard of; but the prepossessing appearance of the stripling, who
could not be more than sixteen, and who was singularly slightly made,
soon dispelled the idea. Still, as he constantly appeared at the same
spot, the grocer began to have a new apprehension, and to suspect he was
an emissary of the Earl of Rochester, and he sent Dallison to inquire
his business. The youth returned an evasive answer, and withdrew; but
the next day he was there again. On this occasion, Mr. Bloundel pointed
him out to Leonard Holt, and asked him if he had seen him before. The
youth's back being towards them, the apprentice unhesitatingly answered
in the negative, but as the subject of investigation turned the next
moment, and looked up, revealing features of feminine delicacy and
beauty, set off by long flowing jet-black ringlets, Leonard started, and
coloured.
"I was mistaken," he said, "I _have_ seen him before."
"Is he one of the Earl of Rochester's pages?" asked Mr. Bloundel.
"No," replied Leonard, "and you need not be uneasy about him. I am sure
he intends no harm."
Thus satisfied, the grocer thought no more about the matter. He then
arranged with Leonard that he should visit the window at certain hours
on alternate nights with himself, and appointed the following night as
that on which the apprentice's duties should commence.
On the same night, however, an alarming incident occurred, which kept
the grocer and his apprentice for a long time on the watch. The family
had just retired to rest when the report of fire-arms was heard close to
the street door, and Mr. Bloundel hastily calling up Leonard, they
repaired to the room overlooking the street, and found that a desperate
struggle was going on below. The moon being overclouded, and the lantern
extinguished, it was too dark to discern the figures of the combatants,
and in a few seconds all became silent, except the groans of a wounded
man. Mr. Bloundel then called out to know what was the matter, and
ascertained from the sufferer, who proved to be his own watchman, that
the adjoining house, being infected, had been shut up by the
authorities; and its owner, unable to bear the restraint, had burst open
the door, shot the watchman stationed at it, and firing another pistol
at the poor wretch who was making the statement, because he endeavoured
to oppose his flight, had subsequently attacked him with his sword. It
was a great grief to Mr. Bloundel not to be able to aid the unfortunate
watchman, and he had almost determined to hazard a descent by the
pulley, when a musical voice was heard below, and the grocer soon
understood that the youth, about whom his curiosity had been excited,
was raising the sufferer, and endeavouring to stanch his wounds. Finding
this impossible, however, at Mr. Bloundel's request, he went in search
of assistance, and presently afterwards returned with a posse of men,
bearing halberds and lanterns, who carried off the wounded man, and
afterwards started in pursuit of the murderer.
Mr. Bloundel then entered into conversation with the youth, who informed
him that his name was Flitcroft, that he was without a home, all his
relations having died of the plague, and that he was anxious to serve as
a watchman in place of the poor wretch who had just been removed.
Leonard remonstrated against this arrangement, but Mr. Bloundel was so
much pleased with Flitcroft's conduct that he would listen to no
objection. Accordingly provisions were lowered down in a basket to the
poor youth, and he stationed himself in the hutch. Nothing material
occurred during the day. Flitcroft resigned his post to Dallison, but
returned in the evening.
At midnight, Leonard took his turn to watch. It was a bright moonlight
night, but though he occasionally looked out into the street, and
perceived Flitcroft below, he gave no intimation of his presence. All at
once, however, he was alarmed by a loud cry, and opening the shutter,
perceived the youth struggling with two persons, whom he recognised as
Sir Paul Parravicin and Pillichody.
He shouted to them to release their captive, but they laughed at his
vociferations, and in spite of his resistance dragged the youth away.
Maddened at the sight, Leonard lowered the rope as quickly as he could
with the intention of descending by it. At this moment, Flitcroft turned
an agonized look behind him, and perceiving what had been done, broke
suddenly from his captors, and before he could be prevented, sprang into
the basket, and laid hold of the rope. Leonard, who had seen the
movement, and divined its object, drew up the pulley with the quickness
of thought; and so expeditiously was the whole accomplished, that ere
the knight and his companion reached the spot, Flitcroft was above their
heads, and the next moment was pulled through the window, and in safety
by the side of Leonard.
II. HOW FIRES WERE LIGHTED IN THE STREETS.
Nizza Macascree, for it is useless to affect further mystery, as soon as
she could find utterance, murmured her thanks to the apprentice, whose
satisfaction at her deliverance was greatly diminished by his fears lest
his master should disapprove of what he had done. Seeing his uneasiness,
and guessing the cause, Nizza hastened to relieve it.
"I reproach myself bitterly for having placed you in this situation!"
she said, "but I could not help it, and will free you from my presence
the moment I can do so with safety. When I bade you farewell, I meant it
to be for ever, and persuaded myself I could adhere to my resolution.
But I was deceived. You would pity me, were I to tell you the anguish I
endured. I could not accompany my poor father in his rambles; and if I
went forth at all, my steps involuntarily led me to Wood-street. At
last, I resolved to disguise myself, and borrowed this suit from a Jew
clothesman, who has a stall in Saint Paul's. Thus equipped, I paced
backwards and forwards before the house, in the hope of obtaining a
glimpse of you, and fortune has favoured me more than I expected, though
it has led to this unhappy result. Heaven only knows what will become of
me!" she added, bursting into tears. "Oh! that the pestilence would
select me as one of its victims. But, like your own sex, it shuns all
those who court it."
"I can neither advise you," replied Leonard, in sombre tone, "nor help
you. Ah!" he exclaimed, as the sounds of violent blows were heard
against the door below--"your persecutors are trying to break into the
house."
Rushing to the window, and gazing downwards, he perceived Sir Paul
Parravicin and Pillichody battering against the shop door, and
endeavouring to burst it open. It was, however, so stoutly barricaded,
that it resisted all their efforts.
"What is to be done?" cried Leonard. "The noise will certainly alarm my
master, and you will be discovered."
"Heed me not," rejoined Nizza, distractedly, "you shall not run any risk
on my account. Let me down the pulley. Deliver me to them. Anything is
better than that you should suffer by my indiscretion."
"No, no," replied Leonard; "Mr. Bloundel shall know all. His love for
his own daughter will make him feel for you. But come what will, I will
not abandon you."
As he spoke a timid knock was heard at the door, and a voice without
exclaimed, in accents of the utmost trepidation, "Are you there,
Leonard?--Robbers are breaking into the house. We shall all be
murdered."
"Come in, Blaize," returned Leonard, opening the door and admitting the
porter--"you may be of some assistance to me."
"In what way?" demanded Blaize. "Ah! who's this?" he added, perceiving
Nizza--"what is this page doing here?"
"Do not concern yourself about him but attend to me," replied Leonard.
"I am about to drive away those persons from the door. You must lower me
down in the basket attached to the pulley."
"And will you dare to engage them?" asked Blaize, peeping out at the
shutter. "They are armed. As I live, one is Major Pillichody, the rascal
who dared to make love to Patience. I have half a mind to go down with
you, and give him a sound drubbing."
"You shall not encounter this danger for me," interposed Nizza,
endeavouring to stay Leonard, who, having thrust a sword into his
girdle, was about to pass through the window.
"Do not hinder me," replied the apprentice, breaking from her. "Take
hold of the rope, Blaize, and mind it does not run down too quickly."
With this, he got into the basket, and as the porter carefully obeyed
his instructions, he reached the ground in safety. On seeing him,
Pillichody bolted across the street, and flourishing his sword, and
uttering tremendous imprecations, held himself in readiness to beat an
immediate retreat. Not so Parravicin. Instantly assailing the
apprentice, he slightly wounded him in the arm. Seeing how matters
stood, and that victory was pretty certain to declare itself for his
patron, Pillichody returned, and, attacking the apprentice, by their
combined efforts, he was speedily disarmed. Pillichody would have passed
his sword through his body, but the knight stayed his hand.
"The fool has placed himself in our power," he said, "and he shall pay
for his temerity; nevertheless, I will spare his life provided he assist
us to get into the house, or will deliver up Nizza Macascree."
"I will do neither," replied Leonard, fiercely.
Parravicin raised his sword, and was about to strike, when, at the
moment, the basket was again quickly lowered to the ground. It bore
Nizza Macascree, who, rushing between them, arrested the stroke.
"Oh! why have you done this?" cried Leonard, in a tone of reproach.
"I will tell you why," rejoined Parravicin, triumphantly; "because she
saw you were unable to defend her, and, like a true woman, surrendered
herself to the victor. Take care of him, Pillichody, while I secure the
girl. Spit him, if he attempts to stir."
And twining his arms round Nizza, notwithstanding her shrieks and
resistance, he bore her away. Infuriated by the sight, Leonard Holt
threw himself upon Pillichody, and a desperate struggle took place
between them, which terminated this time successfully for the
apprentice. Wresting his long rapier from the bully, Leonard rushed
after Parravicin, and reached the end of Wood-street, just in time to
see him spring into a coach, and drive off with his prize. Speeding
after them along Blowbladder-street, and Middle-row, as Newgate-street
was then termed, the apprentice shouted to the coachman to stop, but no
attention being paid to his vociferations, and finding pursuit
unavailing, he came to a halt. He then more slowly retraced his steps,
and on arriving at the grocer's residence, found the basket drawn up.
Almost afraid to call out, he at length mustered courage enough to shout
to Blaize to lower it, and was answered by Mr. Bloundel, who, putting
his head through the window, demanded in a stern tone why he had left
the house?
Leonard briefly explained.
"I deeply regret your imprudence," replied his master; "because I can
now no more admit you. It is my fixed determination, as you well know,
not to suffer any member of my family who may quit my house, to enter it
again."
"I shall not attempt to remonstrate with you, sir," replied Leonard.
"All I pray of you is to allow me to occupy this hutch, and to act as
your porter."
"Willingly," rejoined Mr. Bloundel; "and as you have had the plague, you
will run no risk of infection. You shall know all that passes within
doors; and I only lament that you should have banished yourself from the
asylum which I hoped to afford you."
After some further conversation between them, a bundle was lowered by
the grocer, containing a change of clothes and a couple of blankets. On
receiving these, Leonard retired to the hutch, and tying a handkerchief
round his wounded arm, wrapped himself in a night trail, and stretching
himself on the ground, in spite of his anxiety, soon sank asleep. He
awoke about four o'clock in the morning, with a painful consciousness of
what had taken place during the night. It was just beginning to grow
light, and he walked across the street to gaze at the house from which
he was exiled. Its melancholy, uninhabited look did not serve to cheer
him. It seemed totally altered since he knew it first. The sign, which
then invited the passers-by to enter the shop and deal with its honest
owner, now appeared no longer significant, unless--and it will be
remembered it was the Noah's Ark--it could be supposed to have reference
to those shut up within. The apprentice looked at the habitation with
misgiving, and, instead of regarding it as a sanctuary from the
pestilence, could not help picturing it as a living tomb. The last
conversation he had had with Amabel also arose forcibly to his
recollection, and the little likelihood there appeared of seeing her
again gave him acute agony. Oppressed by this painful idea, and unable
to exclude from his thoughts the unhappy situation of Nizza Macascree,
he bent his steps, scarcely knowing whither he was going, towards Saint
Paul's.
Having passed so much of his time of late in the cathedral, Leonard
began to regard it as a sort of home, and it now appeared like a place
of refuge to him. Proceeding to the great western entrance, he seated
himself on one of the large blocks of stone left there by the masons
occupied in repairing the exterior of the fane. His eye rested upon the
mighty edifice before him, and the clear sparkling light revealed
numberless points of architectural grandeur and beauty which he had
never before noticed. The enormous buttresses and lofty pinnacles of the
central tower were tinged with the beams of the rising sun, and glowed
as if built of porphyry. While gazing at the summit of this tower, and
calling to mind the magnificent view he had recently witnessed from it
at the same hour, if a wish could have transported him thither at that
moment, he would have enjoyed it again. But as this could not be, he
tried to summon before his mental vision the whole glorious
prospect--the broad and shining river, with its moving or motionless
craft--the gardens, the noble mansions, the warehouses, and mighty
wharfs on its banks--London Bridge, with its enormous pile of
habitations--the old and picturesque city, with its innumerable towers,
and spires, and girdle of grey walls--the green fields and winding lanes
leading to the lovely hills around it--all these objects arose obedient
to his fancy, and came arrayed in colouring as fresh as that wherein
they had before appeared to him. While thus occupied, his gaze remained
riveted on the summit of the central tower, and he fancied he perceived
some one leaning over the balustrade; but as little beyond the upper
part of the figure could be discerned, and as it appeared perfectly
motionless, he could not be quite sure that his eyes did not deceive
him. Having gazed at the object for some minutes, during which it
maintained the same attitude, he continued his survey of the pile, and
became so excited by the sublime emotions inspired by the contemplation,
as to be insensible to aught else.
After a while he arose, and was about to proceed towards the portico,
when, chancing to look at the top of the tower, he remarked that the
figure had disappeared, and while wondering who it could be, he
perceived a person emerge from one of the tall windows in the lower part
of the tower. It was Solomon Eagle, and he no longer wondered at what he
had seen. The enthusiast was without his brazier, but carried a long
stout staff. He ran along the pointed roof of the nave with
inconceivable swiftness, till, reaching the vast stone cross, upwards of
twelve feet in height, ornamenting the western extremity, he climbed its
base, and clasping the transverse bar of the sacred symbol of his faith
with his left arm, extended his staff with his right, and described a
circle, as if pointing out the walls of the city. He then raised his
staff towards heaven to invoke its vengeance, and anon pointed it
menacingly downwards. After this he broke into loud denunciations; but
though the apprentice could not hear the words, he gathered their
purport from his gestures.
By this time a few masons had assembled, and producing their implements,
commenced working at the blocks of stone. Glancing at the enthusiast,
one of them observed with a smile to his companion, "There is Solomon
Eagle pronouncing his morning curse upon the city. I wonder whether the
judgments he utters against it will come to pass."
"Assuredly, Phil Gatford," replied the other mason, gravely; "and I look
upon all the work we are now doing as labour thrown away. Was he not
right about the plague? Did he not foretell the devouring scourge by
which we are visited? And he will be right also about the fire. Since he
has doomed it, this cathedral will be consumed by flames, and one stone
will not be left standing on another."
"It is strange, Ned Turgis," observed Gatford, "that, though Solomon
Eagle may always be seen at daybreak at the top of the tower or on the
roof of the cathedral--sometimes at one point and sometimes at
another--no one can tell where he hides himself at other times. He no
longer roams the streets at night, but you may remember when the
officers of justice were in search of him, to give evidence against
Mother Malmayns and Chowles, he was not to be found."
"I remember it," replied Turgis; "but I have no doubt he was hidden in
some out-of-the-way corner of the cathedral--perhaps among the immense
wooden beams of the clerestory."
"Or in some of the secret passages or cells contrived in the thickness
of the walls," rejoined the first speaker. "I say, Ned Turgis, if the
plague increases, as there is every likelihood it will, Solomon Eagle
will be the only preacher left in Saint Paul's. Neither deans, prebends,
minor-canons, nor vicars will attend. As it is, they have almost
abandoned it."
"Shame on them!" exclaimed Leonard Holt, who, being much interested in
the conversation of the masons, had silently approached them. "At this
season, more than ever, they are bound to attend to their duty."
"Why, so I think," rejoined Gatford; "but I suppose they consider
self-preservation their first duty. They aver that all assemblages,
whether called together for religious purposes or not, are dangerous,
and likely to extend the pestilence."
"And yet crowds are permitted to assemble for purposes of amusement, if
not for worship, in those holy walls," returned Leonard.
"Not so," replied Gatford. "Very few persons now come there, and none
for amusement. Paul's Walk is completely deserted. The shops and stalls
have been removed, and the pillars to which they were attached are
restored to their former appearance."
"I am glad to hear it," rejoined Leonard. "I would far rather the sacred
edifice were altogether abandoned than be what it has been of late--a
den of thieves."
"It was a stable and a magazine of arms in the time of the
Commonwealth," remarked Gatford.
"And if Solomon Eagle's foreboding come to pass, it will be a heap of
ruins in our own time," rejoined Turgis. "But I see the prophet of ill
has quitted his post, and retired to his hiding-place."
Looking up as this was said, Leonard saw that the enthusiast had
disappeared. At this moment the great door of the cathedral was thrown
open, and, quitting the masons, he ascended the broad steps under the
portico, and entered the fane, where he found that the information he
had received was correct, and that the stalls and other disfigurements
to the pillars had been removed. After pacing the solitary aisles for
some time, he made inquiries from the verger concerning Solomon Eagle.
"I know nothing about him," replied the man, reluctantly. "I believe he
always appears at daybreak on some part of the roof, but I am as
ignorant as yourself where he hides himself. The door of the winding
staircase leading to the central tower is open. You can ascend it, and
search for him, if you think proper."
Acting upon the suggestion, Leonard mounted to the belfry, and from
thence to the summit of the tower. Having indulged himself with a brief
survey of the glorious view around, he descended, and glanced into every
cell and chamber as he passed, in the hopes of meeting with the
enthusiast, but he was disappointed. At length, as he got about half-way
down, he felt his arm forcibly grasped, and, instantly conjecturing who
it was, offered no resistance. Without uttering a word, the person who
had seized him dragged him up a few steps, pushed aside a secret door,
which closed behind them with a hollow clangour, and leading him along a
dark narrow passage, opened another door, and they emerged upon the
roof. He then found that his suspicion was correct, and that his
mysterious guide was no other than Solomon Eagle.
"I am glad to find you have recovered from the pestilence," said the
enthusiast, regarding him with a friendly glance; "it proves you are
favoured by Heaven. I saw you in the open space before the cathedral
this morning, and instantly recognised you. I was in the belfry when you
descended, but you did not perceive me, and I wished to be certain you
were alone before I discovered myself."
"You have ceased to roam the streets at night, and rouse the slumbering
citizens to repentance?" asked Leonard.
"For the present I have," returned Solomon Eagle. "But I shall appear
again when I am required. But you shall now learn why I have brought you
hither. Look along those streets," he added, pointing to the
thoroughfares opening in different directions. "What see you?"
"I see men piling heaps of wood and coals at certain distances, as if
they were preparing bonfires," replied Leonard. "And yet it cannot be.
This is no season for rejoicing."
"It has been supposed that the lighting of many thousand fires at once
will purify the air," replied Solomon Eagle; "and therefore the Lord
Mayor has given orders that heaps of fuel shall be placed before every
house in every street in the city, and that all these heaps shall be
kindled at a certain hour. But it will be of no avail. The weather is
now fine and settled, and the sky cloudless. But the offended Deity will
cause the heaviest rain to descend, and extinguish their fires. No--the
way to avert the pestilence is not by fire, but by prayer and penitence,
by humiliation and fasting. Let this sinful people put on sackcloth and
ashes. Let them beseech God, by constant prayer, to forgive them, and
they may prevail, but not otherwise."
"And when are these fires to be lighted?" asked the apprentice.
"To-night, at midnight," replied Solomon Eagle.
He then took Leonard by the hand, and led him back the same way he had
brought him. On reaching the spiral staircase, he said, "If you desire
to behold a sight, such as a man has seldom witnessed, ascend to the
summit of this tower an hour after midnight, when all these fires are
lighted. A small door on the left of the northern entrance shall be left
open. It will conduct you to the back of the choir, and you must then
find your way hither as well as you can."
Murmuring his thanks, Leonard hurried down the spiral staircase, and
quitting the cathedral, proceeded in the direction of Wood-street.
Preparations were everywhere making for carrying the Lord Mayor's orders
into effect; and such was the beneficial result anticipated, that a
general liveliness prevailed, on reaching his master's residence, he
found him at the shutter, curious to know what was going forward; and
having informed him, the grocer immediately threw him down money to
procure wood and coal.
"I have but little faith in the experiment," he said, "but the Lord
Mayor's injunctions must be obeyed."
With the help of Dallison, who had now arrived, Leonard Holt soon
procured a large heap of fuel, and placed it in the middle of the
street. The day was passed in executing other commissions for the
grocer, and he took his meals in the hutch with the porter. Time
appeared to pass with unusual slowness, and not he alone, but anxious
thousands, awaited the signal to kindle their fires. The night was
profoundly dark and sultry, and Leonard could not help thinking that the
enthusiast's prediction would be verified, and that rain would fall. But
these gloomy anticipations vanished as the hour of midnight was tolled
forth by the neighbouring clocks of Saint Michael's and Saint Alban's.
Scarcely had the strokes died away, when Leonard seized a light and set
fire to the pile. Ten thousand other piles were kindled at the same
moment, and in an instant the pitchy darkness was converted into light
as bright as that of noonday.