the burning city
ext day, the holiday of life was over, its duties re-commenced. master blower had an accumulation of business to attend to, and i had plenty to do about the house. before the end of the week, i was immersed in cares that were pleasures to me, inasmuch as they lightened his own. but i could not resist paying a visit to the bridge, and spending an hour in the dear old house, and another, afterwards, with violet. she and mark came to sup with us. i found they were not going to marry till six months were 281out, which was full quick, after all; but i was thankful they would wait so long. a change seemed coming over mark; he was steady, composed, attentive to business, and far pleasanter, whether lively or sad, than in his earlier days. as to violet, she was infinitely softened, and the old spirit of coquetry seemed quite to have burned out. we did not see them often, but master blower always received them kindly, and they seemed to consider it a privilege as well as a pleasure to come to us.
thus, the winter wore on: the plague was stayed; and though it was common to meet in the streets men in their nightcaps, limping, or with their throats bound up, no one thought of getting out of their way, for the infection had spent itself. and persons that were strangers to each other might be heard exchanging 282congratulations on the improved state of things, now that houses and shops were re-opening, the weeds beginning to disappear from the thoroughfares, and men no longer walked along the middle of the streets, but on the foot-pavements.
my dear husband endeavoured to impress the hearts and minds of his people, in season and out of season, with a sense of the mercy that had preserved them; but, i am sorry to say, with very little permanent effect. true it is, at first the ground was broken up, and the clods were soft, and the good seed that was cast in seemed likely to fructify; but alas, the hot sun of worldly temptation soon hardened the ground and burnt the seed up, and people that had almost miraculously escaped the general judgment, seemed little better than they 283were before. this depressed my dear husband very much; but, instead of relaxing his efforts, he only redoubled them; and he said i strengthened his hands.
there was also a great deal of distress, owing to the general stagnation of trade, and the vast numbers of people thrown out of employ. so that, though we did all we could, it was heart-rending to witness the misery in some of the lower districts of our parish. we pinched ourselves to help them, voluntarily giving up such and such things at our table; and this with such cheerfulness that i really believe our self-privations gave us more actual enjoyment than if we had ate the fat and drank the sweet to our hearts’ desire. and once or twice it remarkably happened that when we had a little exceeded 284in this way, and had supplied thereby the needs of a more than ordinary number, a great hamper would arrive from mistress blower, full of game, poultry, eggs, butter, brawn, hams, tongues, and everything that was good. often we talked over that sweet place the hampers came from; and it seemed to me that my husband more and more inclined towards the country; especially as his throat had never quite recovered the effects of the plague, and he found he could not make himself heard throughout the remoter parts of his large church without difficulty. quite at the end of the summer, the old incumbent of bucklands parsonage died; and as the living was in the squire’s gift, and he had some notion his brother would like it, he wrote to offer it to him. my husband asked my mind about it; i 285said i should like it of all things, if he could be content with so small and quiet a field of action. he said, yes, the time had been when it had been otherwise with him—the harder the work the greater the pleasure, especially as carrying some sense of glory in the victory over it; but it was not so with him now: he could be content with trying to do good on a small scale; especially as he had not been quite so successful on the larger field of action as he had hoped and expected.
“could i preach like apollos,” continued he, “to what good, to the half of my congregation, who cannot catch one word in ten? so that, in fact, i preach to a small congregation already. and i’ve no mind to receive the pay without doing the work. there’s no fear, cherry, of my not making myself 286audible in bucklands church!—besides, do you know i fancy i have a little domestic mission there. my dear, good brother, who has dozed under doctor bray for so many years, has languished under a spiritual dearth. he is now getting in years, and i think i may do something for him—you know he told you he thought my sermons were the real thing.”
“he said,” replied i, “that you not only hit the right nail on the head, but hammered it well in.”
after some further talk, which only went to prove how completely we were of a mind on the matter, the letters were written and sent—to accept the one living and resign the other. that was on the second of september. the same night, broke out that dreadful fire, which lasted three days and three 287nights, and destroyed fifteen of the twenty-six city wards, including four hundred streets and lanes, and thirteen thousand houses. oh, what a dreadful calamity! we were in bed, a little after ten, when shrieks and cries of “fire!” awoke us; and my dear husband put his head forth of the window and asked where it was. a man running along answered, “on or at the foot of london bridge!” then our hearts failed us for violet and mark, and all our old friends; and we dressed and went forth, for i could not be stayed from accompanying master blower. but before we could reach the bridge foot, we found access to it cut off, both by reason of the crowd and of the flames: the only comfort was, that the fire kept off the bridge. there was so much tumult and pressure that we could only keep on 288the skirts of the crowd, where we hung about without doing any good for some hours.
the next morning, we were in hope of hearing the fire had been got under; instead of which, the whole bankside was wrapped in flames, and all the houses from the bridge foot, and all thames street, were lying in ashes. the people seemed all at pause, gazing on, without stirring hand or foot, and those that were personal sufferers were venting their grief in cries and lamentations. but we could not find that any life had yet been lost; and the fire kept off the bridge.
when i went home at dusk, it was to pray for the poor sufferers, and then to muse how far the calamity might extend. supper was on table, but i had no mind to eat; which was all the 289better, as my husband presently brought in a poor, weeping family who had lost everything, and had not touched a morsel all day. we gave them a good meal, and shelter for the night. they slept, but we could not. there was no need of candles all that night, which was as light as day for ten miles round. the fire was now spreading all along the south part of the city, leaping from house to house, and street to street, for the very air seemed ignited; showers of sparks and ashes were falling in every direction, and the pavement was growing almost too hot to tread upon. my husband kept bringing in new refugees as long as our house would hold them, and i was too busy caring for them to have leisure to go forth, even had it been safe; but each new-comer brought fresh tidings of the desolation, which 290was now extending to churches, public monuments, hospitals, companies’ halls, as though it would carry all before it. we now began to be in some alarm for ourselves; and to consider what we should do if it came our way; and now we experienced the convenience of having but little treasure that moth, rust, or fire could injure, for when master blower had made up a small packet of papers and ready money that we could readily carry about us, there was nothing left for the destroyer to consume but our poor furniture and the house over our heads. very opportunely, at this time came to our door a berkshire countryman with one of the good squire’s hampers full of eatables. i never saw a poor fellow look so scared! he got a good view of the calamity from a distance, and then set his face homewards 291in as great a hurry as if the flames were in chase of him. the streets were now full of carts loaded with moveables, which their owners were conveying out of town; giving way to the calamity rather than seeking to arrest it, which, indeed, it was now vain to attempt, though i think something might have been done at first. st. paul’s was now in a blaze; the great stones exploding with intense heat, and the melted lead running along the gutters. this night, also, we got scarce any rest.
st paul’s was now in a blaze
the next morning, while i was overlooking my stores, and considering how i should best husband them for my poor inmates, in comes mark, his face blackened, his hair full of ashes, his clothes singed in many places, and his shoes nearly burnt off his feet.
“thank god, you are safe, then!” 292cries he, catching hold of both my hands. “the sky looked so fiery in this quarter during the night, that violet and i were in dreadful fear for you, and i started at daybreak, and came here by making a great round, to see how it fared with you. and violet bids me say that she has not forgotten your father’s and mother’s kindness to her father and mother when they were burned out of house and home, nor how she and you were put together in the same cradle; and it will make her and me, dear cherry, unspeakably happy to receive you and master blower under the very same roof, should you be burnt out of your own.”
i said, “dear mark, that is so like you and violet! just the kindness i should have expected! believe me, we shall thankfully accept it, if there 293be need. but at present the fire is all about us, yet comes not to us. we have made up our little parcel of treasures, (a little one, indeed, mark!) and are ready to start at a minute’s notice, trusting to a good god to spare our lives. this old house, if it once catches, will burn like tinder; meanwhile, come and see how many it holds.”
so i led him from room to room, and shewed him mothers nursing their infants, children eating bread and milk, and old people still sleeping heavily. he was greatly interested and impressed. “what a good soul you are!” said he,—“i can give you no notion of the scenes of misery on the outskirts through which i passed on my way here. people huddled in tents, or lying under hedges, or on 294heaps of litter and broken furniture, without a morsel of bread or a cup of milk, yet none begging!... i saw a few bread-carts and milk-people coming up to them as i passed along, but many had no money, not even a penny, to buy a breakfast. i had filled my purse, cherry, with all that was in the till, before i set out; but you see there’s not much in it now——”
and he pulled out an empty purse, with a smile that showed he was well pleased with the way its contents had gone. then we shook hands heartily, and parted.
to the loud crackling of flames and crash of falling buildings, was now added the blowing up of houses with gunpowder, which, indeed, made the neighbourhood of them very dangerous 295to bystanders, but checked the progress of the fire. however, nothing effectual could have been done, had it not pleased almighty god to stay his judgment by abating the high wind, which fell all at once; whereby the flames ceased to spread, though the glowing ruins continued to burn.
the crisis being now past, we ceased to be in apprehension for ourselves, and devoted all our attention to the poor, bereft people under our care. some of these were fetched away by their country friends; sooner or later all dispersed; and then we went out into the fields adjoining the city, to afford what little help we could. but oh! the desolation! to attempt to assuage that accumulation of destitution by our trivial means seemed like essaying to subdue the fire with a cup of water: 296yet we know that every little helps; and that even a cup of water, to the thirsty man who drinks it, quenches not his thirst the less, that thousands beside are parched with drought. and thus, by analogy, concerning the general amount of human suffering surrounding us at all times, which the wife of a whitechapel parson is perhaps as well qualified to speak of as any one else—we need not be discouraged from aiding any, because we cannot succour all; since the relief afforded is as grateful to him who has it, as though all were relieved, which it is not god’s will that any should have power to accomplish.
by the end of the month this terrible calamity was over-past; at least, as far as we had anything to do with it, though we continued to give shelter 297to poor, ruined householders as long as the parsonage was our own. the gentleman who succeeded my dear husband seemed a benevolent sort of man, a little pompous, maybe, but tenderly disposed towards the poor.
and now, everything being settled, we sold some of our old furniture, and sent down the rest, with mistress peach, by the wagon. and my dear husband and i entered bucklands exactly as we had left it, and on the very same horse; i in my cherry-colour habit, that was as fresh as on my wedding-day. and here we have been ever since; and he calls me his right hand, and says my attention to all his secular affairs leaves his mind at liberty to pursue his duties and studies without distraction—and that i understand the poor even better than he does—and that i am his best 298counsellor, his dearest friend, his pleasantest companion, his darling cherry!—yes; he calls me, and i believe he thinks me all this: and as for my being happy in him ... i should think so, indeed!
