Old Saint Paul's: A Tale of the Plague and the Fire

by William Harrison Ainsworth

"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."