replied Argentine. "Buy the title--_buy_ it, I say. My sister left me
yesterday. I visited my anger on her head, and she fled. I believe she
took refuge with Doctor Hodges, but I am sure he can tell you where she
is. One thing more," continued the dying man, fixing his glazing eyes on
Leonard. "Go to Newgate--to--to a prisoner there--an incendiary--and
obtain a document of him. Tell him, with my dying breath I charged you
to do this. It will enable you to act as I have directed. Promise me you
will go. Promise me you will fulfil my injunctions."
"I do," replied Leonard.
"Enough," rejoined Argentine. "May you be happy with Isabella." And
removing his hand from his side, a copious effusion of blood followed,
and, sinking backwards, he expired.
VII. THE BURNING OF SAINT PAUL'S.
Several other persons having by this time come up, the body of Lord
Argentine was conveyed to Bishop Kempe's Chapel, and left there till a
fitting season should arrive for its removal. Confounded by the tragical
event that had taken place, Leonard remained with his eyes fixed upon
the blood-stained pavement, until he was roused by an arm which gently
drew him away, while the voice of the Earl of Rochester breathed in his
ear, "This is a sad occurrence, Leonard; and yet it is most fortunate
for you, for it removes the only obstacle to your union with the Lady
Isabella. You see how fleeting life is, and how easily we may be
deprived of it. I tried to reason Lord Argentine into calmness; but
nothing would satisfy him except my blood; and there he lies, though not
by my hand. Let his fate be a lesson to us, and teach us to live in
charity with each other. I have wronged you--deeply wronged you; but I
will make all the atonement in my power, and let me think I am
forgiven."
The blood rushed tumultuously to Leonard's heart as he listened to what
the earl said, but overcoming his feelings of aversion by a powerful
effort, he took the proffered hand.
"I do forgive you my lord," he said.
"Those words have removed a heavy weight from my soul," replied
Rochester; "and if death should trip up my heels as suddenly as he did
his who perished on this spot, I shall be better prepared to meet him.
And now let me advise you to repair to Newgate without delay, and see
the wretched man, and obtain the document from him. The fire will reach
the gaol ere long, and the prisoners must of necessity be removed. Amid
the confusion his escape might be easily accomplished."
"Recollect, my lord, that the direful conflagration now prevailing
without is owing to him," replied Leonard. "I will never be accessory to
his escape."
"And yet his death by the public executioner," urged Rochester. "Think
of its effect on his daughter."
"Justice must take its course," rejoined Leonard. "I would not aid him
to escape if he were my own father."
"In that case, nothing more is to be said," replied Rochester. "But at
all events, see him as quickly as you can. I would accompany you, but my
duty detains me here. When you return from your errand you will find me
at my post near the entrance of the churchyard in front of Saint
Michael's le Quern; that is, if I am not beaten from it. Having seen the
father, your next business must be to seek out the daughter, and remove
her from this dangerous neighbourhood. You have heard where she is to be
found."
Upon this they separated, Leonard and his companions quitting the
cathedral by the great western entrance, and proceeding towards
Paul's-alley, and the earl betaking himself to the north-east corner of
the churchyard. The former got as far as Ivy-lane, but found it wholly
impassable, in consequence of the goods and furniture with which it was
blocked up. They were, therefore, obliged to return to the precincts of
the cathedral, where Blaize, who was greatly terrified by what he had
seen, expressed his determination of quitting them, and hurried back to
the sacred pile. Leonard and the farmer next essayed to get up Ave
Maria-lane; but, finding that also impassable, they made for Ludgate,
and, after a long delay and severe struggle, got through the portal. The
Old Bailey was entirely filled with persons removing their goods; and
they were here informed, to their great dismay, that the conflagration
had already reached Newgate Market, which was burning with the greatest
fury, and was at that moment seizing upon the gaol. No one, however, in
answer to Leonard's inquiries, could tell him what had become of the
prisoners.
"I suppose they have left them to burn," observed a bystander, who heard
the question with a malicious look; "and it is the best way of getting
rid of them." Paying no attention to the remark, nor to the brutal laugh
accompanying it, Leonard, assisted by Wingfield, fought his way through
the crowd till he reached the prison. The flames were bursting through
its grated windows, and both wings, as well as the massive gate
connecting them, were on fire. Regardless of the risk he ran, Leonard
forced his way to the lodge-door, where two turnkeys were standing,
removing their goods.
"What has become of the prisoners?" he asked.
"The debtors are set free," replied the turnkey addressed, "and all but
one or two of the common felons are removed."
"And where are those poor creatures?" cried Leonard, horror-stricken.
"In the Stone Hold," replied the turnkey.
"And have you left them to perish there?" demanded Leonard.
"We couldn't help it," rejoined the turnkey. "It would have been risking
our lives to venture near them. One is a murderer, taken in the fact;
and the other is quite as bad, for he set the city on fire; so its right
and fair he should perish by his own contrivance."
"Where does the Stone Hold lie?" cried Leonard, in a tone that startled
the turnkey. "I must get these prisoners out."
"You can't, I tell you," rejoined the turnkey, doggedly. "They're burnt
to a cinder by this time."
"Give me your keys, and show me the way to the cell," cried Leonard,
authoritatively. "I will at least attempt to save them."
"Well, if you're determined to put an end to yourself, you may try,"
replied the turnkey; "but I've warned you as to what you may expect.
This way," he added, opening a door, from which a thick volume of smoke
issued; "if any of 'em's alive, you'll soon know by the cries." And, as
if in answer to his remark, a most terrific shriek at that moment burst
on their ears.
"Here are the keys," cried the turnkey, delivering them to Leonard. "You
are not going too?" he added, as Wingfield pushed past him. "A couple of
madmen! I shouldn't wonder if they were incendiaries."
Directed by the cries, Leonard pressed forward through the blinding and
stifling smoke. After proceeding about twenty yards, he arrived at a
cross passage where the smoke was not quite so dense, as it found an
escape through a small grated aperture in the wall. And here a horrible
sight was presented to him. At the further extremity of this passage was
a small cell, from which the cries he had heard issued. Not far from it
the stone roof had fallen in, and from the chasm thus caused the flames
were pouring into the passage. Regardless of the risk he ran, Leonard
dashed forward, and reaching the cell, beheld Grant, still living, but
in such a dreadful state, that it was evident his sufferings must soon
be ended. His hair and beard were singed close to his head and face, and
his flesh was blistered, blackened, and scorched to the bone. On seeing
Leonard, he uttered a hoarse cry, and attempted to speak, but the words
rattled in his throat. He then staggered forward, and, to Leonard's
inexpressible horror, thrust his arms through the bars of the cage,
which were literally red-hot. Seeing he had something in one hand,
though he could not unclose his fingers, Leonard took it from him, and
the wretched man fell backwards. At this moment a loud crack was heard
in the wall behind. Several ponderous stones dropped from their places,
admitting a volume of flame that filled the whole cell, and disclosing
another body on the floor, near which lay that of Grant. Horrified by
the spectacle, Leonard staggered off, and, catching Wingfield's arm,
sought to retrace his steps. This was no easy matter, the smoke being so
dense, that they could not see a foot before them, and was obliged to
feel their way along the wall. On arriving at the cross passage,
Wingfield would fain have turned off to the right, but Leonard drew him
forcibly in the opposite direction; and most fortunate was it that he
did so, or the worthy farmer would inevitably have perished. At last
they reached the lodge, and sank down on a bench from exhaustion.
"So, my masters," observed the turnkey, with a grim smile, "you were not
able to rescue them, I perceive?" But receiving no answer, he added,
"Well, and what did you see?"
"A sight that would have moved even your stony heart to compassion,"
returned Leonard, getting up and quitting the lodge. Followed by
Wingfield, and scarcely knowing where he was going, he forced his way
through the crowd, and dashing down Snow-hill, did not stop till he
reached Holborn Conduit, where, seizing a leathern bucket, he filled it
with water, and plunged his head into it. Refreshed by the immersion, he
now glanced at the document committed to him by Grant. It was a piece of
parchment, and showed by its shrivelled and scorched appearance the
agony which its late possessor must have endured, Leonard did not open
it, but thrust it with a shudder into his doublet.
Meditating on the strange and terrible events that had just occurred,
Leonard's thoughts involuntarily wandered to the Lady Isabella, whose
image appeared to him like a bright star shining on troubled waters, and
for the first time venturing to indulge in a hope that she might indeed
be his, he determined immediately to proceed in search of her.
It was now high noon, but the mid-day sun was scarcely visible, or not
visible at all; as it struggled through the masses of yellow vapour it
looked red as blood. Bands of workmen were demolishing houses on the
western side of Fleet Ditch, and casting the rubbish into the muddy
sluice before them, by which means it was confidently but vainly hoped
that the progress of the fire would be checked. Shaping their course
along the opposite side of the ditch, and crossing to Fleet Bridge,
Leonard and his companion passed through Salisbury-court to Whitefriars,
and taking a boat, directed the waterman to land them at Puddle Dock.
The river was still covered with craft of every description laden with
goods, and Baynard's Castle, an embattled stone structure of great
strength and solidity, built at the beginning of the fifteenth century
on the site of another castle as old as the Conquest, being now wrapped
in flames from foundation to turret, offered a magnificent spectacle.
From this point the four ascents leading to the cathedral, namely,
Addle-hill, Saint Bennet's-hill, Saint Peter's-hill, and Lambert-hill,
with all their throng of habitations, were burning--the black lines of
ruined walls standing in bold relief against the white sheet of flame.
Billows of fire rolled upwards every moment towards Saint Paul's, and
threatened it with destruction.
Landing at the appointed place Leonard and his companion ascended Saint
Andrew's-hill, and, proceeding along Carter-lane, soon gained the
precincts of the cathedral. Here the whole mass of habitations on the
summit of Saint Bennet's-hill extending from the eastern, end of
Carter-lane to Distaff-lane, was on fire, and the flames were dashed by
the fierce wind against the south-east corner of the cathedral. A large
crowd was collected at this point, and great efforts were made to save
the venerable pile, but Leonard saw that its destruction was inevitable.
Forcing a way through the throng with his companion, they reached Doctor
Hodges's residence at the corner of Watling-street, and Leonard, without
waiting to knock, tried the door, which yielded to his touch. The
habitation was empty, and from the various articles scattered about it
was evident its inmates must have fled with the greatest precipitation.
Alarmed at this discovery, Leonard rushed forth with Wingfield, and
sought to ascertain from the crowd without whither Doctor Hodges was
gone, but could learn nothing more than that he had departed with his
whole household a few hours before. At last it occurred to him that he
might obtain some information from the Earl of Rochester, and he was
about to cross to the other side of the churchyard, when he was arrested
by a simultaneous cry of horror from the assemblage. Looking upwards,
for there he saw the general gaze directed, he perceived that the
scaffolding around the roof and tower of the cathedral had kindled, and
was enveloping the whole upper part of the fabric in a network of fire.
Flames were likewise bursting from the belfry, and from the lofty
pointed windows below it, flickering and playing round the hoary
buttresses, and disturbing the numerous jackdaws that built in their
timeworn crevices, and now flew screaming forth. As Leonard gazed at the
summit of the tower, be discerned through the circling eddies of smoke
that enveloped it the figure of Solomon Eagle standing on the top of the
battlements and waving his staff, and almost fancied he could hear his
voice. After remaining in this perilous situation for some minutes, as
if to raise anxiety for his safety to the highest pitch, the enthusiast
sprang upon a portion of the scaffolding that was only partly consumed,
and descended from pole to pole, regardless whether burning or not, with
marvellous swiftness, and apparently without injury. Alighting on the
roof, he speeded to the eastern extremity of the fane, and there
commenced his exhortations to the crowd below.
It now became evident also, from the strange roaring noise proceeding
from the tower, that the flames were descending the spiral staircase,
and forcing their way through some secret doors or passages to the roof.
Determined to take one last survey of the interior of the cathedral
before its destruction, which he now saw was inevitable, Leonard
motioned to Wingfield, and forcing his way through the crowd, which was
now considerably thinned, entered the southern door. He had scarcely
gained the middle of the transept when the door opened behind him, and
two persons, whom, even in the brief glimpse he caught of them, he knew
to be Chowles and Judith, darted towards the steps leading to Saint
Faith's. They appeared to be carrying a large chest, but Leonard was too
much interested in what was occurring to pay much attention to them.
There were but few persons besides himself and his companion within the
cathedral, and these few were chiefly booksellers' porters, who were
hurrying out of Saint Faith's in the utmost trepidation. By-and-by,
these were gone, and they were alone--alone within that vast structure,
and at such a moment. Their situation, though perilous, was one that
awakened thrilling and sublime emotions. The cries of the multitude,
coupled with the roaring of the conflagration, resounded from without,
while the fierce glare of the flames lighted up the painted windows at
the head of the choir with unwonted splendour. Overhead was heard a
hollow rumbling noise like that of distant thunder, which continued for
a short time, while fluid streams of smoke crept through the mighty
rafters of the roof, and gradually filled the whole interior of the
fabric with vapour. Suddenly a tremendous cracking was heard, as if the
whole pile were tumbling in pieces. So appalling was this sound, that
Leonard and his companion would have fled, but they were completely
transfixed by terror.
While they were in this state, the flames, which had long been burning
in secret, burst through the roof at the other end of the choir, and
instantaneously spread over its whole expanse. At this juncture, a cry
of wild exultation was heard in the great northern gallery, and looking
up, Leonard beheld Solomon Eagle, hurrying with lightning swiftness
around it, and shouting in tones of exultation, "My words have come to
pass--it burns--it burns--and will be utterly consumed!"
The vociferations of the enthusiast were answered by a piercing cry from
below, proceeding from Blaize, who at that moment rushed from the
entrance of Saint Faith's. On seeing the porter, Leonard shouted to him,
and the poor fellow hurried towards him. At this juncture, a strange
hissing sound was heard, as if a heavy shower of rain were descending
upon the roof, and through the yawning gap over the choir there poured a
stream of molten lead of silvery brightness. Nothing can be conceived
more beautiful than this shining yet terrible cascade, which descended
with momentarily increasing fury, sparkling, flashing, hissing, and
consuming all before it. All the elaborately carved woodwork and stalls
upon which it fell were presently in flames. Leonard and his companions
now turned to fly, but they had scarcely moved a few paces when another
fiery cascade burst through the roof near the great western entrance,
for which they were making, flooding the aisles and plashing against the
massive columns. At the same moment, too, a third stream began to fall
over the northern transept, not far from where Blaize stood, and a few
drops of the burning metal reaching him, caused him to utter the most
fearful outcries. Seriously alarmed, Leonard and Wingfield now rushed to
one of the monuments in the northern aisle, and hastily clambering it,
reached a window, which they burst open. Blaize followed them, but not
without receiving a few accidental plashes from the fiery torrents,
which elicited from him the most astounding yells. Having helped him to
climb the monument, Leonard pushed him through the window after
Wingfield, and then cast his eye round the building before he himself
descended. The sight was magnificent in the extreme. Prom the flaming
roof three silvery cascades descended. The choir was in flame, and a
glowing stream like lava was spreading over the floor, and slowly
trickling down the steps leading to the body of the church. The
transepts and the greater part of the nave were similarly flooded. Above
the roar of the flames and the hissing plash of the descending torrents,
was heard the wild laughter of Solomon Eagle. Perceiving him in one of
the arcades of the southern gallery, Leonard shouted to him to descend,
and make good his escape while there was yet time, adding that in a few
moments it would be too late.
"I shall never quit it more," rejoined the enthusiast, in a voice of
thunder, "but shall perish with the fire I have kindled. No monarch on
earth ever lighted a nobler funeral pyre."
And as Leonard passed through the window, he disappeared along the
gallery. Breaking through the crowd collected round Wingfield and
Blaize, and calling to them to follow him, Leonard made his way to the
north-east of the churchyard, where he found a large assemblage of
persons, in the midst of which were the king, the Duke of York,
Rochester, Arlington, and many others. As Leonard advanced, Charles
discerned him amid the crowd, and motioned him to come forward. A
passage was then cleared, for him, through which Wingfield and Blaize,
who kept close beside him, were permitted to pass.
"I am glad to find no harm has happened to you, friend," said Charles,
as he approached. "Rochester informed me you were gone to Newgate, and
as the gaol had been burnt down, I feared you might have met with the
same mishap. I now regret that I did not adopt your plan, but it may not
be yet too late."
"It is not too late to save a portion of your city, sire," replied
Leonard; "but, alas! how much is gone!"
"It is so," replied the king, mournfully.
Further conversation was here interrupted by the sudden breaking out of
the fire from the magnificent rose window of the cathedral, the effect
of which, being extraordinarily fine, attracted the monarch's attention.
By this time Solomon Eagle had again ascended the roof, and making his
way to the eastern extremity, clasped the great stone cross that
terminated it with his left hand, while with his right he menaced the
king and his party, uttering denunciations that were lost in the
terrible roar prevailing around him. The flames now raged with a
fierceness wholly inconceivable, considering the material they had to
work upon. The molten lead poured down in torrents, and not merely
flooded the whole interior of the fabric, but ran down in a wide and
boiling stream almost as far as the Thames, consuming everything in its
way, and rendering the very pavements red-hot. Every stone, spout, and
gutter in the sacred pile, of which there were some hundreds, added to
this fatal shower, and scattered destruction far and wide; nor will this
be wondered at when it is considered that the quantity of lead thus
melted covered a space of no less than six acres. Having burned with
incredible fury and fierceness for some time, the whole roof of the
sacred structure fell in at once, and with a crash heard at an amazing
distance. After an instant's pause, the flames burst forth from every
window in the fabric, producing such an intensity of heat, that the
stone pinnacles, transom beams, and mullions split and cracked with a
sound like volleys of artillery, shivering and flying in every
direction. The whole interior of the pile was now one vast sheet of
flame, which soared upwards, and consumed even the very stones. Not a
vestige of the reverend structure was left untouched--its bells--its
plate--its woodwork--its monuments--its mighty pillars--its
galleries--its chapels--all, all were destroyed. The fire raged
throughout all that night and the next day, till it had consumed all but
the mere shell, and rendered the venerable cathedral--"one of the most
ancient pieces of piety in the Christian world"--to use the words of
Evelyn, a heap of ruin and ashes.
VIII. HOW LEONARD RESCUED THE LADY ISABELLA.
The course of events having been somewhat anticipated in the last
chapter, it will now be necessary to return to an earlier stage in the
destruction of the cathedral, namely, soon after the furious bursting
forth of the flames from the great eastern windows. While Leonard, in
common with the rest of the assemblage, was gazing at this magnificent
spectacle, he heard a loud cry of distress behind him, and turning at
the sound, beheld Doctor Hodges rush forth from an adjoining house, the
upper part of which was on fire, almost in a state of distraction. An
elderly man and woman, and two or three female servants, all of whom
were crying as loud as himself, followed him. But their screams fell on
indifferent ears, for the crowd had become by this time too much
accustomed to such appeals to pay any particular attention to them.
Leonard, however, instantly rushed towards the doctor, and anxiously
inquired what was the matter; the latter was so bewildered that he did
not recognise the voice of the speaker, but gazing up at the house with
an indescribable anguish, cried, "Merciful God! the flames have by this
time reached her room--she will be burned--horror!"
"Who will be burned?" cried Leonard, seizing his arm, and gazing at him
with a look of apprehension and anguish equal to his own--"Not the Lady
Isabella?"
"Yes, Isabella," replied Hodges, regarding the speaker, and for the
first time perceiving by whom he was addressed. "Not a moment is to be
lost if you would save her from a terrible death. She was left in a
fainting state in one of the upper rooms by a female attendant, who
deserted her mistress to save herself. The staircase is on fire, or I
myself would have saved her."
"A ladder! a ladder!" cried Leonard.
"Here is one," cried Wingfield, pointing to one propped against an
adjoining house. And in another moment, by the combined efforts of the
crowd, the ladder was brought and placed against the burning building.
"Which is the window?" cried Leonard.
"That on the right, on the second floor," replied Hodges. "Gracious
Heaven! the flames are bursting from it."