But before they could be separated, Lord Argentine's fury had exposed
him to his adversary, whose sword passed through his body. He fell to
the ground, weltering in his blood. While Leonard stood stupefied and
confounded at what had occurred, and Isabella, uttering a loud cry,
threw herself upon the body and tried to stanch the wound--two men, with
halberds in their hands rushed forward, and seizing Thirlby, cried, "We
arrest you as a murderer!"
Thirlby, who seemed utterly overcome by surprise and horror, offered no
resistance. At this juncture Leonard felt his arm seized by a
bystander--he did not know whom--and scarcely conscious of what was
taking place, suffered himself to be dragged from the scene.
BOOK THE SIXTH.
SEPTEMBER, 1666.
I. THE FIRE-HALL.
About nine o'clock on the night of Saturday, the second of September,
1666--and rather more than nine months after the incidents last
related,--three men took their way from Smithfield to Islington. They
proceeded at a swift pace and in silence, until, having mounted the
steep hill on which the suburb in question is situated, they halted at a
short distance from the high walls surrounding the great water-works
formed by the New-River-head. The night was dark, but free from cloud,
in consequence of a strong easterly wind which prevailed at the time.
"It is dark in London now," observed one of the three persons to his
companions as he cast his eye in the direction of the great city, that
lay buried in gloom beneath them; "but there will be light enough soon."
"A second dawn, and brighter than the first, shall arise upon it,"
replied one of his companions, a tall, gaunt man, whose sole covering
was a sheepskin, girded round his loins. "Such a flame shall be kindled
within it, as hath not been seen since showers of brimstone and fire
descended upon the sinful cities of the plain. 'The Lord shall come with
flames of fire,'" he added, pointing his long staff towards the city.
"'He shall make them like a fiery oven, in the time of his wrath. They
shall be utterly consumed.'"
"Amen!" exclaimed the third person, who stood near him, in a deep voice,
and with something of a foreign accent.
"Not so loud, friends," rejoined the first speaker. "Let us set about
the task. I will ascertain that no one is on the watch."
With this he moved towards the water-works, and skirting the circular
walls, to satisfy himself that all was secure, he returned to his
companions, and they proceeded to the principal entrance to the place.
Noiselessly unlocking the gates, the leader of the party admitted the
others into an open space of some extent, in the midst of which was a
large reservoir of water. He then gave each of them a small key, and
bidding them use despatch, they began to turn the cocks of the leaden
pipes connected with the reservoir, while he hastened to the further end
of the inclosure, and employed himself in a similar manner. In this way,
and in less than a quarter of an hour, the whole of the cocks were
stopped.
"And now give me the keys," said the leader.
Taking them as they were offered, he added his own to the number, and
flung them as far as he could into the reservoir, laughing slightly as
the noise of the splash occasioned by their fall into the water reached
the ears.
"They will not be found till this pool is drained," he observed to his
companions. "And now let us go. Our business here is done."
"Stay yet a moment," cried Solomon Eagle, who was standing at the brink
of the reservoir, with his eyes fixed upon it. "Stay!" he cried,
arresting him. "A vision rises before me. I see in this watery mirror a
representation of the burning city. And what are those fearful forms
that feed the flames? Fiends, in our likeness--fiends! And see how wide
and far the conflagration spreads. The whole city is swallowed up by an
earthquake. It sinks to the bottomless pit--down--down!"
"No more of this," cried the leader, impatiently. "Come along." And,
followed by the others, he rushed to the gates, and locking them after
him, flung the key away.
"A hundred pounds were paid to the servant of the chief officer of the
works to bring those keys to me," he said, "and he executed his
commission faithfully and well. Water will be vainly sought for to
quench the conflagration."
"I like not the vision I have just beheld," said Solomon Eagle, in a
troubled tone. "It seems to portend mischief."
"Think of it no more," rejoined the leader, "or regard it as it was--a
phantom created by your overheated imagination. Yon city has sinned so
deeply, that it is the will of Heaven it should be destroyed; and it has
been put into our hearts by the Supreme Power to undertake the terrible
task. We are the chosen instruments of the divine displeasure.
Everything favours the design--the long-continued dry weather--the
strong easterly wind, which will bear the flames into the heart of the
city--the want of water, occasioned by the stopping of these pipes, the
emptying of the various aqueducts, and the destruction of the Thames
water-tower, which we have accomplished. Everything favours it, I say,
and proves that the hand of Heaven directs us. Yes, London shall fall!
We have received our commission from on high, and must execute it,
regardless of the consequences. For my own part, I feel as little
compunction to the task, as the thunderbolt launched from on high does
for the tree it shivers."
"Philip Grant has uttered my sentiments exactly," said the man who, it
has been mentioned, spoke with a slight foreign accent. "I have neither
misgiving nor compunction. You appear to have forgotten your own
denunciations, brother."
"Not so, Brother Hubert," rejoined the enthusiast, "and I now recognise
in the vision a delusion of the Evil One to turn me from my holy
purpose. But it has failed. The impious and impenitent city is doomed,
and nothing can save it. And yet I would fain see it once more as I
beheld it this morn when day arose upon it for the last time, from the
summit of Saint Paul's. It looked so beautiful that my heart smote me,
and tears started to my eyes, to think that those goodly habitations,
those towers, temples, halls, and palaces, should so soon be levelled
with the dust."
"Hear what the prophet saith," rejoined Hubert. "'Thou hast defiled thy
sanctuaries by the multitude of thine iniquities, by the iniquity of thy
traffic. Therefore will I bring forth a fire from the midst of thee, and
will bring thee to ashes upon the earth, in the sight of all those that
behold thee.'"
Solomon Eagle flung himself upon his knees, and his example was imitated
by the others. Having recited a prayer in a low deep tone, he arose, and
stretching out his arms, solemnly denounced the city. As he pronounced
the words, a red and fiery star shot from the dark vault of the sky, and
seemed to fall in the midst of the city.
"Did you not see that sign?" cried Grant, eagerly. "It heralds us to our
task."
So saying, he ran swiftly down the hill, and, followed by the others,
did not slacken his pace till they reached the city. They then shaped
their course more slowly towards Saint Paul's, and having gained the
precincts of the cathedral, Solomon Eagle, who now assumed the place of
leader, conducted them to a small door on the left of the great northern
entrance, and unlocking it, ushered them into a narrow passage behind
the rich carved work of the choir. Traversing it, they crossed the mid
aisle, and soon reached the steps leading to Saint Faith's. It was
profoundly dark, but they were all well acquainted with the road, and
did not miss their footing. It required, however, some caution to thread
the ranks of the mighty pillars filling the subterranean church. But at
last this was accomplished, and they entered the vault beyond the
charnel, where they found Chowles and Judith Malmayns. The former was
wrapped in a long black cloak, and was pacing to and fro within the
narrow chamber. When Solomon Eagle appeared, he sprang towards him, and
regarding him inquiringly, cried, "Have you done it?--have you done it?"
The enthusiast replied in the affirmative. "Heaven be praised!"
exclaimed Chowles. And he skipped about with the wildest expressions of
delight. A gleam of satisfaction, too, darted from Judith's savage eyes.
She had neither risen nor altered her position on the arrival of the
party, but she now got up, and addressed the enthusiast. A small iron
lamp, suspended by a chain from the vaulted roof, lighted the chamber.
The most noticeable figure amidst the group was that of Solomon Eagle,
who, with his blazing eyes, long jet-black locks, giant frame, and tawny
skin, looked like a supernatural being. Near him stood the person
designated as Robert Hubert. He was a young man, and appeared to have
lived a life of great austerity. His features were thin; his large black
eyes set in deep caverns; his limbs seemed almost destitute of flesh;
and his looks wild and uncertain, like those of an insane person. His
tattered and threadbare garb resembled that of a French ecclesiastic.
The third person, who went by the name of Philip Grant, had a powerful
frame, though somewhat bent, and a haughty deportment and look, greatly
at variance with his miserable attire and haggard looks. His beard was
long and grizzled, and his features, though sharpened by care, retained
some traces of a noble expression. A few minutes having passed in
conversation, Grant observed to the enthusiast, "I must now leave you
for a short time. Give me the key that I may let myself out."
"You are not going to betray us?" cried Chowles, suspiciously.
"Why should I betray you?" rejoined Grant, sternly. "I am too anxious
for the event to disclose it."
"True, true," replied Chowles.
"_I_ do not mistrust you, brother," observed Solomon Eagle, giving him
the key.
"I know whither you are going," observed Judith Malmayns. "You are about
to warn Mr. Bloundel and his partner--apprentice no longer--Leonard
Holt, of the approaching conflagration. But your care will be thrown
away."
"Does she speak the truth, brother?" demanded Hubert, raising his eyes
from the Bible which he was reading in the corner of the vault.
"I will do nothing to endanger the design," rejoined Grant; "of that
rest assured."
With this, he strode forth, traversed Saint Faith's, and,
notwithstanding the gloom, reached, without difficulty, the little door
by which he had entered the cathedral. Issuing from it, he took the way,
as Judith had surmised, to Wood-street, and pausing before the grocer's
door, knocked against it. The summons was presently answered by Blaize;
and to Grant's inquiries whether his master was within, he replied,
"Which of my masters did you mean? I have two."
"The younger," replied Grant, "Leonard Holt."
"So far you are fortunate," rejoined Blaize. "Mr. Bloundel has retired
to rest, but Mr. Holt is still downstairs. Pray what may be your
business with him at this hour? It should be important."
"It is important," rejoined Grant, "and does not admit of a moment's
delay. Tell him so."
Eyeing the stranger with a look of suspicion, the porter was about to
enter into a parley with him, when Leonard himself cut it short, and
learning the nature of the application, desired Grant to follow him into
the adjoining room. The nine months which had passed over Leonard's head
since he was last brought under notice, had wrought a material change in
his appearance. He had a grave and thoughtful air, somewhat inclining to
melancholy, but in other respects he was greatly improved. His health
was completely restored, and the thoughtful expression added character
to his handsome physiognomy, and harmonised well with his manly and
determined bearing. He was habited plainly, but with some degree of
taste. As Judith Malmayns had intimated, he was now Mr. Bloundel's
partner, and his whole appearance denoted his improved circumstances.
The alteration did not escape the notice of the stranger, who regarded
him with much curiosity, and closed the door behind him as he entered
the room.
"You are looking much better than when we last met, Leonard Holt," he
said, in tones that made his hearer start, "and I am glad to perceive
it. Prosperity seems to attend your path, and you deserve it; whereas
misery and every other ill--and I deserve them--dog mine."
"I did not recognise you at first, Mr. Thirlby," replied Leonard; "for,
in truth, you are much changed. But you desire to speak with me on a
matter of importance. Can I aid you? You may need money. Here is my
purse."
"I do not want it," replied the other, scornfully rejecting the offer.
"I have a proposal to make to you."
"I shall be glad to hear it," replied Leonard. "But first tell me how
you effected your escape after your arrest on that disastrous night
when, in self-defence, and unintentionally, I wounded your son, Lord
Argentine?"
"Would you had killed him!" cried the other, fiercely. "I have lost all
feelings of a father for him. He it was who contrived my arrest, and he
would have gladly seen me borne to the scaffold, certain it would have
freed him from me for ever. I was hurried away by the officers from the
scene of strife, and conveyed to the Tun at Cornhill, which you know has
been converted into a round-house, and where I was locked up for the
night. But while I was lying on the floor of my prison, driven well-nigh
frantic by what had occurred, there were two persons without labouring
to effect my deliverance--nor did they labour in vain. These were
Chowles and Judith, my foster-sister, and whom, you may remember, I
suspected--and most unfairly--of intending my betrayal. By means of a
heavy bribe, they prevailed on one of the officers to connive at my
escape. An iron bar was removed from the window of my prison, and I got
through the aperture. Judith concealed me for some days in the vaults of
Saint Faith's, after which I fled into the country, where I wandered
about for several months, under the name of Philip Grant. Having learnt
that my son though severely hurt by you, had recovered from his wound,
and that his sister, the Lady Isabella, had accompanied him to his seat
in Staffordshire, I proceeded thither, and saw her, unknown to him. I
found her heart still true to you. She told me you had disappeared
immediately after the termination of the conflict, and had not been
heard of till her brother was out of danger, when you returned to
Wood-street."
"The information was correct," replied Leonard. "I was dragged away by a
person whom I did not recognise at the time, but who proved to be the
Earl of Rochester. He conducted me to a place of safety, thrust a purse
into my hand, and left me. As soon as I could do so with safety, I
returned to my master's house. But how long have you been in London?"
"Nearly a month," replied Grant. "And now let me ask you one question.
Do you ever think of Isabella?"
"Often, very often," replied Leonard. "But as I dare not indulge the
hope of a union with her, I have striven to banish her image from my
mind."
"She cannot forget _you_, Leonard," rejoined Grant. "And now to my
proposal. I have another plan for your aggrandisement that cannot fail.
I am in possession of a monstrous design, the revelation of which will
procure you whatever you desire. Ask a title from the king, and he will
give it; and when in possession of that title, demand the hand of the
Lady Isabella, and her proud brother will not refuse you. Call in your
porter--seize me. I will offer a feigned resistance. Convey me before
the king. Make your own terms with him. He will accede to them. Will you
do it?"
"No," replied Leonard, "I will not purchase the daughter at the price of
the father's life."
"Heed me not," replied Grant, supplicatingly, "I am wholly indifferent
to life. And what matters it whether I am dragged to the scaffold for
one crime or another?"
"You plead in vain," returned Leonard, firmly.
"Reflect," cried Grant, in an agonised tone. "A word from you will not
only win you Isabella, but save the city from destruction."
"Save the city!" exclaimed Leonard. "What mean you?"
"Swear to comply with my request, and you shall know. But not
otherwise," replied Grant.
"I cannot--I cannot," rejoined Leonard; "and unfortunately you have said
too much for your own safety. I must, though most reluctantly, detain
you."
"Hear me, Leonard, and consider well what you do," cried Grant, planting
himself before the door. "I love you next to my daughter, and chiefly
because she loves you. I have told you I have a design to discover, to
which I am a party--a hellish, horrible design--which threatens this
whole city with destruction. It is your duty, having told you thus much,
to arrest me, and I will offer no resistance. Will you not turn this to
your advantage? Will you not make a bargain with the king?"
"I have said I will not," rejoined Leonard.
"Then be warned by me," rejoined Grant. "Arouse your partner. Pack up
all your goods and make preparations for instant flight, for the danger
will invade you before you are aware of it."
"Is it fire?" demanded Leonard, upon whose mind the denunciations of
Solomon Eagle now rushed.
"You will see," replied Grant, with a terrible laugh. "You will repent
your determination when it is too late. Farewell."
"Hold!" cried Leonard, advancing towards him, and trying to lay hands
upon him, "I arrest you in the king's name."
"Off!" exclaimed Grant, dashing him forcibly backwards. And striking
down Blaize, who tried to stop him in the passage, he threw open the
street-door, and disappeared. Fearful of pursuit, Grant took a
circuitous route to Saint Paul's, and it was full half an hour after the
interview above related before he reached the cathedral. Just as he
passed through the small door, the clock tolled forth the hour of
midnight, and when he gained the mid aisle, he heard footsteps
approaching, and encountered his friends.
"We had given you up," said Chowles, "and fearing you intended us some
treachery, were about to do the job without you."
"I have been unavoidably detained," replied Grant. "Let us about it at
once."
"I have got the fire-balls with me," observed Hubert.
"It is well," returned Grant.
Quitting the cathedral, they proceeded to Thames-street, and tracking it
to Fish-street-hill, struck off on the right into an alley that brought
them to Pudding-lane.
"This is the house," said Chowles, halting before a two-storied wooden
habitation, over the door of which was suspended the sign of the "Wheat
Sheaf, with the name THOMAS FARRYNER, BAKER, inscribed beneath it.
"And here," said Hubert, "shall begin the great fire of London."
As he said this, he gave a fire-ball to Solomon Eagle, who lighted the
fuze at Chowles's lantern. The enthusiast then approached a window of
the baker's shop, and breaking a small pane of glass within it, threw
the fire-ball into the room. It alighted upon a heap of chips and fagots
lying near a large stack of wood used for the oven, and in a few minutes
the whole pile had caught and burst into a flame, which, quickly
mounting to the ceiling, set fire to the old, dry, half-decayed timber
that composed it.
II. THE FIRST NIGHT OF THE FIRE.
Having seen the stack of wood kindled, and the flames attack the
building in such a manner as to leave no doubt they would destroy it,
the incendiaries separated, previously agreeing to meet together in half
an hour at the foot of London Bridge; and while the others started off
in different directions, Chowles and Judith retreated to a neighbouring
alley commanding a view of the burning habitation.
"At last the great design is executed," observed Chowles, rubbing his
hands gleefully. "The fire burns right merrily, and will not soon be
extinguished. Who would have thought we should have found such famous
assistants as the two madmen, Solomon Eagle and Robert Hubert--and your
scarcely less mad foster-brother, Philip Grant? I can understand the
motives that influenced the two first to the deed, but not those of the
other."
"Nor I," replied Judith, "unless he wishes in some way or other to
benefit Leonard Holt by it. For my part, I shall enjoy this fire quite
as much on its own account as for the plunder it will bring us. I should
like to see every house in this great city destroyed."
"You are in a fair way of obtaining your wish," replied Chowles; "but
provided I have the sacking of them, I don't care how many are saved.
Not but that such a fire will be a grand sight, which I should be sorry
to miss. You forget, too, that if Saint Paul's should be burnt down, we
shall lose our hoards. However, there's no chance of that."
"Not much," replied Judith, interrupting him. "But see! the baker has at
last discovered that his dwelling is on fire. He bursts open the window,
and, as I live, is about to throw himself out of it."
As she spoke, one of the upper windows in the burning habitation was
burst open, and a poor terrified wretch appeared at it in his
night-dress, vociferating in tones of the wildest alarm, "Fire!
fire!--help! help!"
"Shall we go forward?" said Chowles. Judith hesitated for a moment, and
then assenting, they hurried towards the spot.
"Can we give you any help, friend?" cried Chowles.
"Take care of this," rejoined the baker, flinging a bag of money to the
ground, "and I will endeavour to let down my wife and children. The
staircase is on fire, and we are almost stifled with smoke. God help
us!" And the exclamation was followed by fearful shrieks from within,
followed by the appearance of a woman, holding two little children in
her arms, at the window.
"This must be money," said Judith, utterly heedless of the fearful scene
occurring above, and taking up the bag and chinking it; "silver, by the
sound. Shall we make off with it?"
"No, no," replied Chowles, "we must not run any risk for such a paltry
booty. Let us bide our time."
At this juncture, the baker, who had disappeared for a few seconds from
the window, again presented himself at it, and, with some difficulty,
forced a feather bed through it, which was instantly placed by Chowles
in such a position beneath, as to break the fall of the descending
parties. Tying a couple of sheets together, and fastening one end round
his wife's waist, the baker lowered her and the children to the ground.
They alighted in safety; but just as he was about to follow their
example, the floor of the room gave way, and though he succeeded in
springing through the window, he missed the feather bed, and broke his
leg in the fall. He was picked up by Chowles and Judith, and placed upon
the bed in a state of insensibility, and was soon afterwards conveyed
with his family to the house of a neighbour.
Meanwhile, the fire had spread to the houses on either side of the
unfortunate man's habitation, and both of them being built entirely of
wood, they were almost instantly in flames. The alarm too had become
general; the inhabitants of the adjoining houses were filled with
indescribable terror, and the narrow street was speedily crowded with
persons of both sexes, who had rushed from their beds to ascertain the
extent of the danger. All was terror and confusion. The fire-bells of
Saint Margaret's, Saint George's, and Saint Andrew's, in Botolph-lane,
began to toll, and shouts were heard on every side, proving that the
whole neighbourhood was roused.
To add to the general distress, a report was raised that a house in
Fish-street-hill was on fire, and it was soon found to be true, as an
immense volume of flames burst forth in that quarter. While the rest of
the spectators, distracted by this calamity, and hardly knowing what to
do, hurried in the direction of the new fire, Chowles and Judith eyed
each other askance, and the former whispered to his companion, "This is
another piece of Hubert's handiwork."