The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  “That would be terrible, indeed,” cried Patience, with a look of dismay.

  “I think the wedding had better take place as soon as the fire is over.

  It can’t last many days if it goes on at this rate.”

  “You are right,” returned Blaize. “I have no objection. I’ll speak to my mother at once.” And stepping into the scullery, where old Josyna was washing some dishes, he addressed her— “Mother, I’m sadly afraid this great fire will reach us before our master will allow us to move. Hadn’t you better let me take care of the money you intended giving me on my marriage with Patience?”

  “No, no, myn goed zoon,” replied Josyna, shaking her head— “I musd zee you married virsd.”

  “But I can’t be married to-day,” cried Blaize— “and there’s no time to lose. The fire will be upon us directly.”

  “I cand help dat,” returned his mother. “We musd place our drusd in

  God.”

  “There I quite agree with you, mother,” replied Blaize; “but we must also take care of ourselves. If you won’t give me the money, at least put it in a box to carry off at a moment’s notice.”

  “Don’t be afraid, myn zoon,” replied Josyna. “I wond forged id.”

  “I’m sadly afraid you will, though,” muttered Blaize, as he walked away. “There’s no doing any good with her,” he added to Patience. “She’s as obstinate as Mr. Bloundel. I should like to see the fire of all things; but I suppose I musn’t leave the house.”

  “Of course not,” replied Patience, pettishly; “at such a time it would be highly improper. I forbid that.”

  “Then I must need submit,” groaned Blaize— “I can’t even have my own way before marriage.”

  When the proper time arrived, the grocer, accompanied by all his family and household, except old Josyna, who was left in charge of the house, repaired to the neighbouring church of Saint Alban’s, but, finding the doors closed, and that no service was to be performed, he returned home with a sorrowful heart. Soon after this, Leonard took Mr. Bloundel apart, and observed to him, “I have a strong conviction that I could be useful in arresting the progress of the conflagration, and, as I cannot attend church service, I will, with your permission, devote myself to that object. It is my intention to proceed to Whitehall, and, if possible, obtain an audience of the king, and if I succeed in doing so, to lay a plan before him, which I think would prove efficacious.”

  “I will not ask what the plan is,” rejoined the grocer, “because I doubt its success. Neither will I oppose your design, which is praiseworthy. Go, and may it prosper. Return in the evening, for I may need your assistance — perhaps protection.”

  Leonard then prepared to set forth. Blaize begged hard to accompany him, but was refused. Forcing his way through the host of carts, coaches, drays, and other vehicles thronging the streets, Leonard made the best of his way to Whitehall, where he speedily arrived. A large body of mounted troopers were stationed before the gates of the palace, and a regiment of the foot-guards were drawn up in the court. Drums were beating to arms, and other martial sounds were heard, showing the alarm that was felt. Leonard was stopped at the gate by a sentinel, and refused admittance; and he would in all probability have been turned back, if at that moment the Lords Argentine and Rochester had not come up. On seeing him, the former frowned, and passed quickly on, but the latter halted.

  “You seem to be in some difficulty,” remarked Rochester. “Can I help you?”

  Leonard was about to turn away, but he checked himself. “I will not suffer my resentful feelings to operate injuriously to others,” he muttered. “I desire to see the king, my lord,” he added, to the earl. “I have a proposal to make to him, which I think would be a means of checking the conflagration.”

  “Say you so?” cried Rochester. “Come along, then. Heaven grant your plan may prove successful; in which case, I promise you, you shall be nobly rewarded.”

  “I seek no reward, my lord,” replied Leonard. “All I desire is to save the city.”

  “Well, well,” rejoined Rochester, “it will be time enough to refuse his majesty’s bounty when offered.”

  Upon this, he ordered the sentinel to withdraw, and Leonard followed him into the palace. They found the entrance-hall filled with groups of officers and attendants, all conversing together, it was evident from their looks and manner, on the one engrossing topic — the conflagration. Ascending a magnificent staircase, and traversing part of a grand gallery, they entered an ante-room, in which a number of courtiers and. pages — amongst the latter of whom was Chiffinch — were assembled. At the door of the inner chamber stood a couple of ushers, and as the earl approached, it was instantly thrown open. As Leonard, however, who followed close behind his leader, passed Chiffinch, the latter caught hold of his arm and detained him. Hearing the movement, Rochester turned, and said quickly to the page, “Let him pass, he is going with me.”

  “Old Rowley is in no humour for a jest to-day, my lord,” replied Chiffinch, familiarly. “He is more serious than I have ever before seen him, and takes this terrible fire sadly to heart, as well he may. Mr. Secretary Pepys, of the Admiralty, is with him, and is detailing all particulars of the calamity to him, I believe.”

  “It is in reference to the fire that I have brought this young man with me,” returned the earl. “Let him pass, I say. State your plan boldly,” he added, as they entered the audience-chamber.

  At the further end of the long apartment, on a chair of state, and beneath a canopy, sat Charles. He was evidently much disturbed, and looked eagerly at the new-comers, especially at Leonard, expecting to find him the bearer of some important intelligence. On the right of the king, and near an open window, which, looking towards the river, commanded a view of the fire on the bridge, as well as of part of the burning city, stood the Duke of York. The duke did not appear much concerned at the calamity, but was laughing with Lord Argentine, who stood close beside him. The smile fled from the lips of the latter as he beheld Leonard, and he looked angrily at Rochester, who did not, however, appear to notice his displeasure. On the left of the royal chair was Mr. Pepys, engaged, as Chiffinch had intimated, in detailing to the king the progress of the conflagration; and next to the secretary stood the Earl of Craven, — a handsome, commanding, and martial-looking personage, though somewhat stricken in years. Three other noblemen — namely, the Lords Hollis, Arlington, and Ashley — were likewise present.

  “Who have you with you, Rochester?” demanded Charles, as the earl and his companion approached him.

  “A young man, my liege, who desires to make known to you a plan for checking this conflagration,” replied the earl.

  “Ah!” exclaimed the king; “let him accomplish that for us, and he shall ask what he will in return.”

  “I ventured to promise him as much,” observed Rochester.

  “Mine is a very simple and a very obvious plan, sire,” said Leonard; “but I will engage, on the peril of my life, if you will give me sufficient authority, and means to work withal, to stop the further progress of this fire.”

  “In what way?” asked Charles, impatiently;— “in what way?”

  “By demolishing the houses around the conflagration with gunpowder, so as to form a wide gap between those left and the flames,” replied Leonard.

  “A short and summary process, truly,” replied the king; “but it would occasion great waste of property, and might be attended with other serious consequences.”

  “Not half so much property will be destroyed as if the slower and seemingly safer course of pulling down the houses is pursued,” rejoined Leonard. “That experiment has been tried and failed.”

  “I am of the young man’s opinion,” observed the Earl of Craven.

  “And I,” added Pepys. “Better lose half the city than the whole. As it is, your majesty is not safe in your palace.”

  “Why, you do not think it can reach Whitehall?” cried the king, rising, and walking to the window. “How say you
, brother,” he added, to the Duke of York— “shall we act upon this young man’s suggestion, and order the wholesale demolition of the houses which he recommends?”

  “I would not advise your majesty to do so — at least, not without consideration,” answered the duke. “This is a terrible fire, no doubt; but the danger may be greatly exaggerated, and if any ill consequences should result from the proposed scheme, the blame will be entirely laid upon your majesty.”

  “I care not for that,” replied the king, “provided I feel assured it is for the best.”

  “The plan would do incalculably more mischief than the fire itself,” observed Lord Argentine, “and would be met by the most determined opposition on the part of the owners of the habitations condemned to destruction. Whole streets will have to be blown up, and your majesty will easily comprehend the confusion and damage that will ensue.”

  “Lord Argentine has expressed my sentiments exactly,” said the Duke of

  York.

  “There is nothing for it, then, but for your majesty to call for a fiddle, and amuse yourself, like Nero, while your city is burning,” remarked Rochester, sarcastically.

  “Another such jest, my lord,” rejoined the king, sternly, “and it shall cost you your liberty. I will go upon the river instantly, and view the fire myself, and then decide what course shall be adopted.”

  “There are rumours that incendiaries are abroad, your majesty,” remarked Argentine, glancing maliciously at Leonard— “it is not unlikely that he who lighted the fire should know how to extinguish it.”

  “His lordship says truly,” rejoined Leonard. “There are incendiaries abroad, and the chief of them was taken by my hand, and lodged in Newgate, where he lies for examination.”

  “Ah!” exclaimed the king, eagerly; “did you catch the miscreant in the fact?”

  “No, my liege,” replied Leonard; “but he came to me a few hours before the outbreak of the fire, intimating that he was in possession of a plot against the city — a design so monstrous, that your majesty would give any reward to the discloser of it. He proposed to reveal this plot to me on certain terms.”

  “And you accepted them?” cried the king.

  “No, my liege,” replied Leonard; “I refused them, and would have secured him, but he escaped me at that time. I afterwards discovered him among the spectators near the fire, and caused his arrest.”

  “And who is this villain?” cried the king.

  “I must refer your majesty to Lord Argentine,” replied Leonard.

  “Do you know anything of the transaction, my lord?” said Charles, appealing to him.

  “Not I, your majesty,” said Argentine, vainly endeavouring to conceal his anger and confusion. “The knave has spoken falsely.”

  “He shall rue it, if he has done so,” rejoined the monarch. “What has the man you speak of to do with Lord Argentine?” he added to Leonard.

  “He is his father,” was the reply.

  Charles looked at Lord Argentine, and became convinced from the altered expression of his countenance that the truth had been spoken. He, therefore, arose, and motioning him to follow him, led him into the recess of a window, where they remained in conversation for some minutes. While this was passing, the Earl of Rochester observed, in an undertone to Leonard, “You have made a mortal foe of Lord Argentine, but I will protect you.”

  “I require no other protection than I can afford myself, my lord,” rejoined Leonard, coldly.

  Shortly after this, Charles stepped forward with a graver aspect than before, and said, “Before proceeding to view this conflagration, I must give some directions in reference to it. To you, my Lord Craven, whose intrepidity I well know, I intrust the most important post. You will station yourself at the east of the conflagration, and if you find it making its way to the Tower, as I hear is the case, check it at all hazards. The old fortress must be preserved at any risk. But do not resort to gunpowder unless you receive an order from me accompanied by my signet-ring. My Lords Hollis and Ashley, you will have the care of the north-west of the city. Station yourselves near Newgate Market. Rochester and Arlington, your posts will be at Saint Paul’s. Watch over the august cathedral. I would not have it injured for half my kingdom. Brother,” he added to the Duke of York, “you will accompany me in my barge — and you, Mr. Pepys. You, young man,” to Leonard, “can follow in my train.”

  “Has your majesty no post for me?” asked Argentine.

  “No,” replied Charles, turning coldly from him.

  “Had not your majesty better let him have the custody of your gaol of Newgate?” remarked Rochester, sarcastically; “he has an interest in its safe keeping.”

  Lord Argentine turned deadly pale, but he made no answer. Attended by the Duke of York and Mr. Pepys, and followed at a respectful distance by Leonard, the king then passed through the ante-room, and descending the grand staircase, traversed a variety of passages, until he reached the private stairs communicating with the river. At the foot lay the royal barge, in which he embarked with his train. Charles appeared greatly moved by the sight of the thousands of his houseless subjects, whom he encountered in his passage down the Thames, and whenever a feeble shout was raised for him, he returned it with a blessing. When nearly opposite Queenhithe, he commanded the rowers to pause. The conflagration had made formidable progress since Leonard’ beheld it a few hours back, and had advanced, nearly as far as the Still-yard on the river-side, while it was burning upwards through thick ranks of houses, almost as far as Cannon-street. The roaring of the flames was louder than ever — and the crash of falling habitations, and the tumult and cries of the affrighted populace, yet more terrific.

  Charles gazed at the appalling spectacle like one who could not believe his senses, and it was some time before the overwhelming truth could force itself upon him. Tears then started to his eyes, and, uttering an ejaculation of despair, he commanded the rowers to make instantly for the shore.

  V.

  HOW LEONARD SAVED THE KING’S LIFE.

  The royal barge landed at Queenhithe, and Charles instantly disembarking, proceeded on foot, and at a pace that compelled, his attendants to move quickly, to keep up with him, to Thames-street. Here, however, the confusion was so great, owing to the rush of people, and the number of vehicles employed in the removal of goods, that he was obliged to come to a halt. Fortunately, at this moment, a company of the train-bands rode up, and their leader dismounting, offered his horse to the king, who instantly sprang into the saddle, and scarcely waiting till the Duke of York could be similarly accommodated, forced his way through the crowd as far as Brewer-lane, where his progress was stopped by the intense heat. A little more than a hundred yards from this point, the whole street was on fire, and the flames bursting from the windows and roofs of the houses, with a roar like that which might be supposed to be produced by the forges of the Cyclops, united in a vast blazing arch overhead. It chanced, too, that in some places cellars filled with combustible materials extended under the street, and here the ground would crack, and jets of fire shoot forth like the eruption of a volcano. The walls and timbers of the houses at some distance from the conflagration were scorched and blistered with the heat, and completely prepared for ignition; overhead being a vast and momentarily increasing cloud of flame-coloured smoke, which spread all over the city, filling it as with a thick mist, while the glowing vault above looked, as Evelyn expresses it, “like the top of a burning oven.”

  Two churches, namely, Allhallows the Great and Allhallows the Less, were burnt down in the king’s sight, and the lofty spire of a third, Saint Lawrence Poulteney, had just caught fire, and looked like a flame-tipped spear. After contemplating this spectacle for some time, Charles roused himself from the state of stupefaction into which he was thrown, and determined, if possible, to arrest the further progress of the devouring element along the river-side, commanded all the houses on the west of Dowgate Dock to be instantly demolished. A large body of men were therefore set upon this di
fficult and dangerous, and, as it proved, futile task. Another party were ordered to the same duty on Dowgate-hill; and the crash of tumbling walls and beams was soon added to the general uproar, while clouds of dust darkened the air. It was with some difficulty that a sufficient space could be kept clear for carrying these operations into effect; and long before they were half-completed, Charles had the mortification of finding the fire gaining ground so rapidly, that they must prove ineffectual. Word was brought at this juncture that a fresh fire had broken out in Elbow-lane, and while the monarch was listening to this dreary intelligence, a fearful cry was heard near the river, followed, the next moment, by a tumultuous rush of persons from that quarter. The fire, as if in scorn, had leapt across Dowgate Dock, and seizing upon the half-demolished houses, instantly made them its prey. The rapidity with which the conflagration proceeded was astounding, and completely baffled all attempts to check it. The wind continued blowing as furiously as ever, nor was there the slightest prospect of its abatement. All the king’s better qualities were called into play by the present terrible crisis. With a courage and devotion that he seldom displayed, he exposed himself to the greatest risk, personally assisting at all the operations he commanded; while his humane attention to the sufferers by the calamity almost reconciled them to their deplorable situation. His movements were almost as rapid as those of the fire itself. Riding up Cannon-street, and from thence by Sweeting’s-lane, to Lombard-street, and so on by Fenchurch-street to Tower-street, he issued directions all the way, checking every disturbance, and causing a band of depredators, who had broken into the house of a wealthy goldsmith, to be carried off to Newgate. Arrived in Tower-street, he found the Earl of Craven and his party stationed a little beyond Saint Dunstan’s in the East.

  All immediate apprehensions in this quarter appeared at an end. The church had been destroyed, as before mentioned, but several houses in its vicinity having been demolished, the fire had not extended eastward. Satisfied that the Tower was in no immediate danger, the king retraced his course, and encountering the lord mayor in Lombard-street, sharply reproved him for his want of zeal and discretion.