signs in the air
nd now the glorious restoration at length arrived, and ’tis incredible what a spur it was to trade, and how the mercers and drapers could hardly supply their customers fast enough with expensive goods; and how the tailors and sempstresses worked all night, and hairdressers sold their ellwigs, and hatters their hats, and horse-dealers their horses good and bad. for every one was for pouring out of london, across our bridge, at least as far as blackheath. oh! what a busy, what a joyous sight it was! all the streets from the 113bridge to whitehall were hung with tapestry, and the windows filled with ladies. the lord mayor’s cooks set up a gay tent in st. george’s fields, to prepare a refection for his majesty. the livery companies in their various rich dresses of crimson, violet, purple, and scarlet, lined the streets on one side, and the trained bands on the other: bursts of gay music were intermingled with cheers and laughter; everybody seemed in tip-top spirits that the king was coming. we let our windows for a good premium to some of the grandees; but had a good view ourselves of what was going on, from the leads—now there would come along a troop of two or three hundred or more, in cloth of silver doublets; then four or five times as many in velvet coats, with attendants in purple; then another party in buff 114coats with cloth of silver sleeves and green scarfs, others in pale blue and silver, others in scarlet: by and by, six hundred of the livery on horseback, in black velvet with gold chains, then the trumpeters, waits, city officers, sheriffs, and lord mayor ... in short, there was no end to the splendour and glory of that day; for we had hardly rested ourselves after seeing them all go forth, when 115they began to come back, with the king in the midst. oh! what shouts! what cheers! what bursts of music! and he, bowing this side and that, so smiling and gracious! “it seemed,” he said, “as if it must have been his own fault he came not sooner back, everyone appeared so glad to see him!”
but the ladies’ dresses!—oh, how grieved i was!—sure, they were resolved to make up for the dulness and decorum they had been restricted to during the protectorate; for, indeed, they seemed to think decorum and dulness went together, and should now be thrown overboard in company. the henrietta maria dress i had so complacently made up for our wax doll, was now twenty years behind the fashion! fit only to laugh at!—and what had taken its place, i thought fit only to blush at.
116for a moment, when the party that had hired our first-floor window had thrown off their clokes, i felt a dreadful presentiment that their characters could not be over-good; or else, thought i, they never could dress in such a manner. only, knowing who they were, i thought again, that can never be—dear heart! what can they be thinking of? we shall have stones and mud thrown up at the window. “sure, madam,” said i to the youngest and prettiest, “you will catch cold at the open window ... the wind blows in very fresh from the river—will you just have this scarf a little over your shoulders?” “no, thank you,” says she, shaking back quite a bush of fair hair, and looking up at me with her eyes half shut, as if she were sleepy already. “forsooth,” thought i, “those curls are equal to a 117fur tippet”—and, looking across at our neighbours’ windows, i saw we need not fear pelting, for that all the other ladies were dressed just the same. then thought i, oh, this is the restoration, is it? if you, fair ladies, provoke ill thoughts of you, you must not feel aggrieved if people think not of you very well.
i disliked this symptom of the restoration from the very first—not that it had, naturally, any connexion with it.—the king had lived long abroad, had become fond of foreign fashions; but were the modest ladies of england, therefore, to give in to them? then, what the upper classes affect, the lower classes soon ape: i knew we should presently have mistress blenkinsop and violet trying which could wear the longest curls and shortest petticoats, and look the most 118languishing. the only difference would be, that the one would become the fashion, and the other make it ridiculous. perhaps, thought i, i am growing prudish and old-maidish, i am eight and twenty; but so is violet.
i have often thought, that if the ladies of england had at this time been what they ought, a good deal of folly and sin that presently stained this reign would never have happened. what! could the merry glance and free word of a light young monarch break down barriers that were not tottering already? what had mothers and teachers been about? where were the lady fanshawes and lucy hutchinsons? there must have been something wrong in the bringing-up—i can never believe all these fair young ladies were so good one day and so bad the next.
119but the joyfullest event, to ourselves, on that glorious twenty-ninth of may, was the restoration to his country and home of our excellent friend and lodger, master blower. he seemed to be rejuvenized by the general spirit of hilariousness; for i protest it seemed as though ten years were taken off his shoulders. and he talked of being soon replaced in his curacy; but, instead of that, his friends presently got him a living in the city, which took him away from us, as there was a parsonage house. but we went to his church on sundays; and, as he was not one of those who forget old friends or humble ones, he would make my father and me sup with him about once a quarter, and come to us of his own accord about as often, and talk over the times, which in some respects, as far as sabbath-keeping and general 120morality went, we could not say were bettered.
and now a shocking sight was to be seen at the bridge gate,—the heads, namely, of those traitors who brought about the death of the late king, and who richly deserved their bad end. there they have remained for many a year, a terror to all evil-doers.
and now a shocking sight was to be seen at the bridge gate
it was in the spring following the restoration, in the month of march, that we and the braidfoots were taking our supper together on the leads, the weather being very warm for the season, when our attention was attracted by the uncommon appearance of the clouds, which, as will often be the case after much rain, were exceeding gorgeous and grotesque. master braidfoot was the first of us who noticed them, and cried, “see, see, neighbours! cannot you now 121credit how lovers of the marvellous have oft-times set tales afloat of armies seen fighting in the air? do not those two battalions of clouds, impelled by opposite currents, look like two great armies with spears and banners, about to encounter each other? now they meet, now they fall together, now one vanishes away! now, they both are gone!”
“and see, dear hugh,” cries kitty, “there’s another that looks like a cathedral; and another like an exceeding big mountain, with a rent in its side; and out of the rent comes something that looks like a crocodile, with its jaws wide open; no! now it is liker to a bull, or rather to a lion.”
“very like a whale!” said a man, as if to himself, on the top of the next 122house. it was master benskin’s lodger, who wrote for the booksellers.
kitty started, and lowered her voice; for we were not on speaking terms with him; however, she squeezed my arm and said softly, “it really is becoming something like a whale now, though!” on which, master braidfoot burst into one of his ringing laughs, and cried, “why, kitty, you give it as many faces as the moon! what will you fancy it next?”
“i wonder what it means,” says she, very gravely.
“means?” said her husband, still laughing; “why, it means we shall have some more wet weather. so we’ll put off our pleasure party. see what a red flame the setting sun casts all along the city!”
about a week after this, our neighbour, 123master benskin, gave my father a little pamphlet of four leaves, writ by his lodger; the title of which was truly tremendous. it was this,—
“strange news from the west! being a true and perfect account of several miraculous sights seen in the air westward, on thursday last, by divers persons of credit, standing on london bridge between seven and eight of the clock. two great armies marching forth of two clouds, and encountering each other; but, after a sharp dispute, they suddenly vanished. also, some remarkable sights that were seen to issue forth of a cloud that seemed like a mountain, in the shapes of a bull, a bear, a lyon, and an elephant with a castle on his back; and the manner how they all vanished.”
“well,” said my father, turning the leaf, “is it dedicated to mistress braidfoot? here seems to be much ado about nothing, i think.”
“nothing or something,” said master 124benskin, laughing, and jingling his pockets, “it has enabled my lodger to pay up seven weeks’ arrears; so it’s an ill wind that blows nobody any good. the trifle has had a run, sir!”
“so this is the way books are made, and stories are vamped up,” said my father. “truly, it makes one serious.”
but, a little time after, a rumour was repeated in the shop that did indeed make one serious, to wit, that the plague was in holland, and would very likely come across to us. however, though the following year it did indeed rage very badly in amsterdam and rotterdam, yet it crossed not the water for another twelve months or more; and as we had no such things as printed newspapers in those days, such as i have lived to see since, reports did not instantly spread over the whole nation as they do now.
125howbeit, at the latter end of november, 1664, there really were two cases of plague in long acre, which frightened people a good deal. a third man afterwards died of the same distemper in the same house, which kept alive our uneasiness; but after that, nothing was heard of it for six weeks or more, when it broke out beyond concealment.
at this time, master benskin’s shop-window was full of small books with awakening titles, such as “britain’s remembrancer,”—“come out of her, my people,”—“give ear, ye careless daughters,” and such-like, many of them emanating from the pen of his lodger in the attick; and with these and lilly’s almanacks, he drove a thriving trade.
violet was sitting with me one morning, when mark suddenly entered, and 126seeing her with me, lost his presence of mind directly, and forgot what he had to say. she on her part, being just then in mourning for one of her brother’s children, for whom i am bold to say she had scarce shed a tear, (he being a humoursome child, particularly disagreeable to her,) fetches a deep sigh, and with a pretty, pensive air takes up her work, rises, mutely curtsies to him, and retires. on which he, after a minute’s silence, says sadly, “violet is as beautiful, i see, as ever,”—and i was grieved to find he still thought so much about her.
just then, my father enters; and mark, of a sudden recollecting his business, exclaimed, “oh, uncle, here is a capital opening for you. ’tis an ill wind, sure enough, that blows nobody any good,—i don’t know why you should not do a good turn of business as well 127as ourselves by being agent for the sale of these patent nostrums” ... and thereon pulled out a parcel of bills, headed “infallible preventive-pills against the plague.” ... “never-failing preservatives against infection.” ... “sovereign cordials against the corruption of the air.” ... “the royal antidote—” and so forth.
—“no, boy, no,” said my father, putting them by, one after another, as he looked over them, “time was when i should have thought it as innocent to laugh in my sleeve at other people’s credulity and turn a penny by their delusions as yourself, and many others that are counted honest men; but i’m older and sadder now. to the best of my belief, every and all of these remedies are counterfeits, that will not only rob people of their money, but peradventure 128of their lives, by inducing them to trust in what they have bought instead of going to the expense of proper medicines. a solemn time is coming; my own time may be short; and whether i be taken or whether i be left, god forbid i should carry a lie in my right hand, or set it in my shop-window.”
a customer here summoned him away; and mark, instead of departing, sat down beside me and said, “what think you, cherry, of this approaching visitation? are you very much affrighted?”
“awe-stricken, rather,” i made answer; “i only fear for myself along with the rest, and i fear most for my father, who will be more exposed to it than i shall; but i feel i can leave the matter in god’s hand.”
129“i wish i could,” said poor mark, sighing. “i own to you, cherry, i am horribly dismayed. i have a presentiment that i shall not escape. my wife,” continued he, with great bitterness in his tone ... he commonly spoke of her with assumed recklessness as “his old lady” ... “my wife has no sense of the danger—mocks at it, defies it; refuses to leave her house and her business, come what may, and tells me with a scoff i shall frighten myself to death, and that ralph denzel shall be her third.—don’t you hate, cherry, to hear husbands and wives, even in sport, making light of each other’s deaths?”
her grossness was offensive to me, and i said in a low voice, “i do.”
“and if i die, as die i very likely 130shall,” pursued he hurriedly, “you may do me a kindness, cherry, by telling violet that i never——”
this was insupportable to me. “dear mark,” i cried, “why yield to this notion of evil which may be its own fulfilment? god watches over all. with proper precaution, and with his blessing, we may escape. no one knows his hour: the brittle cup oft lasts the longest.—many a casualty may cut us off before the day of general visitation.”
“aye,” he replied, with a sickened look, “but i had a dream last night ... and, just now, as i came through bishopgate churchyard, a crowd of people were watching a ghost among the tombs, that was signing to houses that should be stricken, and to yet undug graves.”
131“watching it?” said i. “did you see it?”
“well, i rather think i did,” said mark, “but am not quite assured—the press was very great. at any rate, i saw those who evidently did see it. my wife has had her fortune told, and the fortune-teller avouched to her she should escape; so there’s the ground of her comfort. to make doubly sure, she wears a charm. for me, i am neither for charm nor fortune-telling,—if i die, i die, and what then! i’ve often felt life scarce worth keeping; only one don’t know what comes after!”
and, with a faint laugh, he rose to go away. i said, “mark! mark!”
“what is it?” he said, and stopped. i said, “don’t go away with that light saying in your mouth——”
132he said, “oh!” and smiling, opened the door. i said, looking full at him, “faith in god is the best amulet.”
“it is,” he said more gravely; and went out.
presently my father came in to supper; and sat down, while it was making ready, near the window, looking out on the river quite calmly. our large white cat sat purring beside him. stroking her kindly, he said, “pussy, you must keep close, or your days will be few ... they’ve given orders, now, to kill all the dogs and cats. i believe, cherry, we are as safe here as we should be in the privatest retreat in the kingdom, for infection never harbours on the bridge, the current of air always blows it away, one way or the other. but, my dear, we may be called away at any hour, and i never sleep worse 133of a night for bearing in mind i may not see another morning. but i rest all the peacefuller, cherry, for knowing you will never be in want, though this poor business should dwindle away to nothing. master benskin and hugh braidfoot know all about my little hoard, and will manage it well for you, my daughter. and now, let’s see what is under this bright little cover. pettitoes, as sure as london bridge is built on wool-packs!”
and he ate his frugal meal cheerfully, i thinking in my mind, as i had so often done before, that the firmest heart is oft found in the littlest body.
