The party then returned to the cathedral, where they found Blaize, Pillichody, and the two other vergers keeping watch at the door near the choir. No one had come forth.
Rochester then walked apart with his companions, while Bloundel, feeling secure so long as he kept the earl in view, folded his arms upon his breast, and determined to await the result.
By this time, the doors being opened, a great crowd was soon collected within the sacred structure. Saint Paul's Churchyard, as is well known, was formerly the great mart for booksellers, who have not, even in later times, deserted the neighbourhood, but still congregate in Paternoster-row, Ave-Maria-lane, and the adjoining streets. At the period of this history they did not confine themselves to the precincts of the cathedral, but, as has been previously intimated, fixed their shops against the massive pillars of its nave. Besides booksellers, there were seamstresses, tobacco-merchants, vendors of fruit and provisions, and Jews—all of whom had stalls within the cathedral, and who were now making preparations for the business of the day. Shortly afterwards, numbers who came for recreation and amusement made their appearance, and before ten o'clock, Paul's Walk, as the nave was termed, was thronged, by apprentices, rufflers, porters, water-carriers, higglers, with baskets on their heads, or under their arms, fish-wives, quack-doctors, cutpurses, bonarobas, merchants, lawyers, and serving-men, who came to be hired, and who stationed themselves near an oaken block attached to one of the pillars, and which was denominated, from the use it was put to, the "serving-man's log." Some of the crowd were smoking, some laughing, others gathering round a ballad-singer, who was chanting one of Rochester's own licentious ditties; some were buying quack medicines and remedies for the plague, the virtues of which the vendor loudly extolled; while others were paying court to the dames, many of whom were masked. Everything seemed to be going forward within this sacred place, except devotion. Here, a man, mounted on the carved marble of a monument, bellowed forth the news of the Dutch war, while another, not far from him, on a bench, announced in lugubrious accents the number of those who had died on the previous day of the pestilence. There, at the very font, was a usurer paying over a sum of money to a gallant—it was Sir Paul Parravicin—who was sealing a bond for thrice the amount of the loan. There, a party of choristers, attended by a troop of boys, were pursuing another gallant, who had ventured into the cathedral booted and spurred, and were demanding "spur-money" of him—an exaction which they claimed as part of their perquisites.
An admirable picture of this curious scene has been given by Bishop Earle, in his Microcosmographia, published in 1629. "Paul's Walk," he writes, "is the land's epitome, or you may call it the lesser isle of Great Britain. It is more than this—it is the whole world's map, which you may here discern in its perfectest motion, jostling and turning. It is a heap of stones and men, with a vast confusion of languages; and were the steeple not sanctified, nothing could be liker Babel. The noise in it is like that of bees, a strange humming, or buzzing, mixed of walking, tongues, and feet: it is a kind of still roar, or loud whisper. It is the great exchange of all discourse, and no business whatsoever, but is here stirring and afoot. It is the synod of all parts politic, jointed and laid together in most serious posture, and they are not half so busy at the Parliament. It is the market of young lecturers, whom you may cheapen here at all rates and sizes. It is the general mint of all famous lies, which are here, like the legends of Popery, first coined and stamped in the church. All inventions are emptied here, and not a few pockets. The best sign of the Temple in it is that it is the thieves' sanctuary, who rob more safely in a crowd than a wilderness, while every pillar is a bush to hide them. It is the other expense of the day, after plays and taverns; and men have still some oaths to swear here. The visitants are all men without exceptions; but the principal inhabitants are stale knights and captains out of service, men of long rapiers and short purses, who after all turn merchants here, and traffic for news. Some make it a preface to their dinner, and travel for an appetite; but thirstier men make it their ordinary, and board here very cheap. Of all such places it is least haunted by hobgoblins, for if a ghost would walk here, he could not."
Decker, moreover, terms Paul's Walk, or the "Mediterranean Isle," in his "Gull's Hornbook"—"the only gallery wherein the pictures of all your true fashionate and complimental gulls are, and ought to be, hung up." After giving circumstantial directions for the manner of entering the walk, he proceeds thus: "Bend your course directly in the middle line that the whole body of the church may appear to be yours, where in view of all, you may publish your suit in what manner you affect most, either with the slide of your cloak from the one shoulder or the other." He then recommends the gull, after four or five turns in the nave, to betake himself to some of the semsters' shops the new tobacco office, or the booksellers' stalls, "where, if you cannot read, exercise your smoke, and inquire who has written against the divine weed." Such, or something like it, was Paul's Walk at the period of this history.
The grocer, who had not quitted his post, remained a silent and sorrowful spectator of the scene. Despite his anxiety, he could not help moralizing upon it, and it furnished him with abundant food for reflection. As to Rochester and his companions, they mingled with the crowd—though the earl kept a wary eye on the door—chatted with the prettiest damsels—listened to the newsmongers, and broke their fast at the stall of a vendor of provisions, who supplied them with tolerable viands, and a bottle of excellent Rhenish. Blaize was soon drawn away by one of the quacks, and, in spite of his master's angry looks, he could not help purchasing one of the infallible antidotes offered for sale by the charlatan. Parravicin had no sooner finished his business with the usurer than he strolled along the nave, and was equally surprised and delighted at meeting with his friends, who briefly explained to him why they were there.
"And how do you expect the adventure to terminate?" asked Parravicin, laughing heartily at the recital.
"Heaven knows," replied the earl. "But what are you doing here?"
"I came partly to replenish my purse, for I have had a run of ill luck of late," replied the knight; "and partly to see a most beautiful creature, whom I accidentally discovered here yesterday."
"A new beauty!" cried Rochester. "Who is she?"