Arthur Mervyn; Or, Memoirs of the Year 1793 Read online

  CHAPTER XV.

  These meditations did not enfeeble my resolution, or slacken my pace. Inproportion as I drew near the city, the tokens of its calamitouscondition became more apparent. Every farm-house was filled withsupernumerary tenants, fugitives from home, and haunting the skirts ofthe road, eager to detain every passenger with inquiries after news. Thepassengers were numerous; for the tide of emigration was by no meansexhausted. Some were on foot, bearing in their countenances the tokensof their recent terror, and filled with mournful reflections on theforlornness of their state. Few had secured to themselves an asylum;some were without the means of paying for victuals or lodging for thecoming night; others, who were not thus destitute, yet knew not whitherto apply for entertainment, every house being already overstocked withinhabitants, or barring its inhospitable doors at their approach.

  Families of weeping mothers and dismayed children, attended with a fewpieces of indispensable furniture, were carried in vehicles of everyform. The parent or husband had perished; and the price of some movable,or the pittance handed forth by public charity, had been expended topurchase the means of retiring from this theatre of disasters, thoughuncertain and hopeless of accommodation in the neighbouring districts.

  Between these and the fugitives whom curiosity had led to the road,dialogues frequently took place, to which I was suffered to listen. Fromevery mouth the tale of sorrow was repeated with new aggravations.Pictures of their own distress, or of that of their neighbours, wereexhibited in all the hues which imagination can annex to pestilence andpoverty.

  My preconceptions of the evil now appeared to have fallen short of thetruth. The dangers into which I was rushing seemed more numerous andimminent than I had previously imagined. I wavered not in my purpose. Apanic crept to my heart, which more vehement exertions were necessary tosubdue or control; but I harboured not a momentary doubt that the coursewhich I had taken was prescribed by duty. There was no difficulty orreluctance in proceeding. All for which my efforts were demanded was towalk in this path without tumult or alarm.

  Various circumstances had hindered me from setting out upon this journeyas early as was proper. My frequent pauses to listen to the narrativesof travellers contributed likewise to procrastination. The sun hadnearly set before I reached the precincts of the city. I pursued thetrack which I had formerly taken, and entered High Street afternightfall. Instead of equipages and a throng of passengers, the voice oflevity and glee, which I had formerly observed, and which the mildnessof the season would, at other times, have produced, I found nothing buta dreary solitude.

  The market-place, and each side of this magnificent avenue, wereilluminated, as before, by lamps; but between the verge of Schuylkilland the heart of the city I met not more than a dozen figures; and thesewere ghost-like, wrapped in cloaks, from behind which they cast upon meglances of wonder and suspicion, and, as I approached, changed theircourse, to avoid touching me. Their clothes were sprinkled with vinegar,and their nostrils defended from contagion by some powerful perfume.

  I cast a look upon the houses, which I recollected to have formerlybeen, at this hour, brilliant with lights, resounding with livelyvoices, and thronged with busy faces. Now they were closed, above andbelow; dark, and without tokens of being inhabited. From the upperwindows of some, a gleam sometimes fell upon the pavement I wastraversing, and showed that their tenants had not fled, but weresecluded or disabled.

  These tokens were new, and awakened all my panics. Death seemed tohover over this scene, and I dreaded that the floating pestilence hadalready lighted on my frame. I had scarcely overcome these tremors, whenI approached a house the door of which was opened, and before whichstood a vehicle, which I presently recognised to be a _hearse_.

  The driver was seated on it. I stood still to mark his visage, and toobserve the course which he proposed to take. Presently a coffin, borneby two men, issued from the house. The driver was a negro; but hiscompanions were white. Their features were marked by ferociousindifference to danger or pity. One of them, as he assisted in thrustingthe coffin into the cavity provided for it, said, "I'll be damned if Ithink the poor dog was quite dead. It wasn't the _fever_ that ailed him,but the sight of the girl and her mother on the floor. I wonder how theyall got into that room. What carried them there?"

  The other surlily muttered, "Their legs, to-be-sure."

  "But what should they hug together in one room for?"

  "To save us trouble, to-be-sure."

  "And I thank them with all my heart; but, damn it, it wasn't right toput him in his coffin before the breath was fairly gone. I thought thelast look he gave me told me to stay a few minutes."

  "Pshaw! He could not live. The sooner dead the better for him; as wellas for us. Did you mark how he eyed us when we carried away his wife anddaughter? I never cried in my life, since I was knee-high, but curse meif I ever felt in better tune for the business than just then. Hey!"continued he, looking up, and observing me standing a few paces distant,and listening to their discourse; "what's wanted? Anybody dead?"

  I stayed not to answer or parley, but hurried forward. My jointstrembled, and cold drops stood on my forehead. I was ashamed of my owninfirmity; and, by vigorous efforts of my reason, regained some degreeof composure. The evening had now advanced, and it behooved me toprocure accommodation at some of the inns.

  These were easily distinguished by their _signs_, but many were withoutinhabitants. At length I lighted upon one, the hall of which was openand the windows lifted. After knocking for some time, a young girlappeared, with many marks of distress. In answer to my question, sheanswered that both her parents were sick, and that they could receive noone. I inquired, in vain, for any other tavern at which strangers mightbe accommodated. She knew of none such, and left me, on someone'scalling to her from above, in the midst of my embarrassment. After amoment's pause, I returned, discomfited and perplexed, to the street.

  I proceeded, in a considerable degree, at random. At length I reached aspacious building in Fourth Street, which the signpost showed me to bean inn. I knocked loudly and often at the door. At length a femaleopened the window of the second story, and, in a tone of peevishness,demanded what I wanted. I told her that I wanted lodging.

  "Go hunt for it somewhere else," said she; "you'll find none here." Ibegan to expostulate; but she shut the window with quickness, and leftme to my own reflections.

  I began now to feel some regret at the journey I had taken. Never, inthe depth of caverns or forests, was I equally conscious of loneliness.I was surrounded by the habitations of men; but I was destitute ofassociate or friend. I had money, but a horse-shelter, or a morsel offood, could not be purchased. I came for the purpose of relievingothers, but stood in the utmost need myself. Even in health my conditionwas helpless and forlorn; but what would become of me should this fatalmalady be contracted? To hope that an asylum would be afforded to a sickman, which was denied to one in health, was unreasonable.

  The first impulse which flowed from these reflections was to hasten backto _Malverton_; which, with sufficient diligence, I might hope to regainbefore the morning light. I could not, methought, return upon my stepswith too much speed. I was prompted to run, as if the pest was rushingupon me and could be eluded only by the most precipitate flight.

  This impulse was quickly counteracted by new ideas. I thought withindignation and shame on the imbecility of my proceeding. I called upthe images of Susan Hadwin, and of Wallace. I reviewed the motives whichhad led me to the undertaking of this journey. Time had, by no means,diminished their force. I had, indeed, nearly arrived at theaccomplishment of what I had intended. A few steps would carry me toThetford's habitation. This might be the critical moment when succourwas most needed and would be most efficacious.

  I had previously concluded to defer going thither till the ensuingmorning; but why should I allow myself a moment's delay? I might atleast gain an external view of the house, and circumstances might arisewhich would absolve me from the obligation of remaining an hour longeri
n the city. All for which I came might be performed; the destiny ofWallace be ascertained; and I be once more safe within the precincts of_Malverton_ before the return of day.

  I immediately directed my steps towards the habitation of Thetford.Carriages bearing the dead were frequently discovered. A few passengerslikewise occurred, whose hasty and perturbed steps denoted theirparticipation in the common distress. The house of which I was in questquickly appeared. Light from an upper window indicated that it was stillinhabited.

  I paused a moment to reflect in what manner it became me to proceed. Toascertain the existence and condition of Wallace was the purpose of myjourney. He had inhabited this house; and whether he remained in it wasnow to be known. I felt repugnance to enter, since my safety might, byentering, be unawares and uselessly endangered. Most of the neighbouringhouses were apparently deserted. In some there were various tokens ofpeople being within. Might I not inquire, at one of these, respectingthe condition of Thetford's family? Yet why should I disturb them byinquiries so impertinent at this unseasonable hour? To knock atThetford's door, and put my questions to him who should obey the signal,was the obvious method.

  I knocked dubiously and lightly. No one came. I knocked again, and moreloudly; I likewise drew the bell. I distinctly heard its distant peals.If any were within, my signal could not fail to be noticed. I paused,and listened, but neither voice nor footsteps could be heard. The light,though obscured by window-curtains, which seemed to be drawn close, wasstill perceptible.

  I ruminated on the causes that might hinder my summons from beingobeyed. I figured to myself nothing but the helplessness of disease, orthe insensibility of death. These images only urged me to persist inendeavouring to obtain admission. Without weighing the consequences ofmy act, I involuntarily lifted the latch. The door yielded to my hand,and I put my feet within the passage.

  Once more I paused. The passage was of considerable extent, and at theend of it I perceived light as from a lamp or candle. This impelled meto go forward, till I reached the foot of a staircase. A candle stoodupon the lowest step.

  This was a new proof that the house was not deserted. I struck my heelagainst the floor with some violence; but this, like my former signals,was unnoticed. Having proceeded thus far, it would have been absurd toretire with my purpose uneffected. Taking the candle in my hand, Iopened a door that was near. It led into a spacious parlour, furnishedwith profusion and splendour. I walked to and fro, gazing at the objectswhich presented themselves; and, involved in perplexity, I knocked withmy heel louder than ever; but no less ineffectually.

  Notwithstanding the lights which I had seen, it was possible that thehouse was uninhabited. This I was resolved to ascertain, by proceedingto the chamber which I had observed, from without, to be illuminated.This chamber, as far as the comparison of circumstances would permit meto decide, I believed to be the same in which I had passed the firstnight of my late abode in the city. Now was I, a second time, in almostequal ignorance of my situation, and of the consequences which impended,exploring my way to the same recess.

  I mounted the stair. As I approached the door of which I was in search,a vapour, infectious and deadly, assailed my senses. It resemblednothing of which I had ever before been sensible. Many odours had beenmet with, even since my arrival in the city, less supportable than this.I seemed not so much to smell as to taste the element that nowencompassed me. I felt as if I had inhaled a poisonous and subtle fluid,whose power instantly bereft my stomach of all vigour. Some fatalinfluence appeared to seize upon my vitals, and the work of corrosionand decomposition to be busily begun.

  For a moment, I doubted whether imagination had not some share inproducing my sensation; but I had not been previously panic-struck; andeven now I attended to my own sensations without mental discomposure.That I had imbibed this disease was not to be questioned. So far thechances in my favour were annihilated. The lot of sickness was drawn.

  Whether my case would be lenient or malignant, whether I should recoveror perish, was to be left to the decision of the future. This incident,instead of appalling me, tended rather to invigorate my courage. Thedanger which I feared had come. I might enter with indifference on thistheatre of pestilence. I might execute, without faltering, the dutiesthat my circumstances might create. My state was no longer hazardous;and my destiny would be totally uninfluenced by my future conduct.

  The pang with which I was first seized, and the momentary inclination tovomit, which it produced, presently subsided. My wholesome feelings,indeed, did not revisit me, but strength to proceed was restored to me.The effluvia became more sensible as I approached the door of thechamber. The door was ajar; and the light within was perceived. Mybelief that those within were dead was presently confuted by sound,which I first supposed to be that of steps moving quickly and timorouslyacross the floor. This ceased, and was succeeded by sounds of differentbut inexplicable import.

  Having entered the apartment, I saw a candle on the hearth. A table wascovered with vials and other apparatus of a sick-chamber. A bed stood onone side, the curtain of which was dropped at the foot, so as to concealany one within. I fixed my eyes upon this object. There were sufficienttokens that some one lay upon the bed. Breath, drawn at long intervals;mutterings scarcely audible; and a tremulous motion in the bedstead,were fearful and intelligible indications.

  If my heart faltered, it must not be supposed that my trepidations arosefrom any selfish considerations. Wallace only, the object of my search,was present to my fancy. Pervaded with remembrance of the Hadwins; ofthe agonies which they had already endured; of the despair which wouldoverwhelm the unhappy Susan when the death of her lover should beascertained; observant of the lonely condition of this house, whence Icould only infer that the sick had been denied suitable attendance; andreminded, by the symptoms that appeared, that this being was strugglingwith the agonies of death; a sickness of the heart, more insupportablethan that which I had just experienced, stole upon me.

  My fancy readily depicted the progress and completion of this tragedy.Wallace was the first of the family on whom the pestilence had seized.Thetford had fled from his habitation. Perhaps as a father and husband,to shun the danger attending his stay was the injunction of his duty. Itwas questionless the conduct which selfish regards would dictate.Wallace was left to perish alone; or, perhaps, (which, indeed, was asupposition somewhat justified by appearances,) he had been left to thetendance of mercenary wretches; by whom, at this desperate moment, hehad been abandoned.

  I was not mindless of the possibility that these forebodings, speciousas they were, might be false. The dying person might be some other thanWallace. The whispers of my hope were, indeed, faint; but they, atleast, prompted me to snatch a look at the expiring man. For thispurpose I advanced and thrust my head within the curtain.