The Plague, Pestilence & Apocalypse MEGAPACK™

by Robert Reed

  with our present circumstances . Great pains had been taken in the

  scenery to give the semblance of reality to the impossible . The ex-

  treme darkness of the stage, whose only light was received from the

  fire under the cauldron, joined to a kind of mist that floated about it,

  rendered the unearthly shapes of the witches obscure and shadowy .

  It was not three decrepid old hags that bent over their pot throw-

  ing in the grim ingredients of the magic charm, but forms frightful,

  unreal, and fanciful . The entrance of Hecate, and the wild music that

  followed, took us out of this world . The cavern shape the stage as-

  sumed, the beetling rocks, the glare of the fire, the misty shades that

  crossed the scene at times, the music in harmony with all witch-like

  fancies, permitted the imagination to revel, without fear of contra-

  diction, or reproof from reason or the heart . The entrance of Mac-

  beth did not destroy the illusion, for he was actuated by the same

  feelings that inspired us, and while the work of magic proceeded we

  sympathized in his wonder and his daring, and gave ourselves up

  with our whole souls to the influence of scenic delusion. I felt the

  beneficial result of such excitement, in a renewal of those pleasing

  flights of fancy to which I had long been a stranger. The effect of

  this scene of incantation communicated a portion of its power to that

  which followed . We forgot that Malcolm and Macduff were mere

  human beings, acted upon by such simple passions as warmed our

  own breasts . By slow degrees however we were drawn to the real

  interest of the scene . A shudder like the swift passing of an electric

  shock ran through the house, when Rosse exclaimed, in answer to

  “Stands Scotland where it did?”

  Alas, poor country;

  Almost afraid to know itself! It cannot

  Be called our mother, but our grave: where nothing,

  But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile;

  Where sighs, and groans, and shrieks that rent the air,

  Are made, not marked; where violent sorrow seems

  A modern extasy: the dead man’s knell

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  Is there scarce asked, for who; and good men’s lives

  Expire before the flowers in their caps,

  Dying, or ere they sicken.

  Each word struck the sense, as our life’s passing bell; we feared

  to look at each other, but bent our gaze on the stage, as if our eyes

  could fall innocuous on that alone . The person who played the part

  of Rosse, suddenly became aware of the dangerous ground he trod .

  He was an inferior actor, but truth now made him excellent; as he

  went on to announce to Macduff the slaughter of his family, he was

  afraid to speak, trembling from apprehension of a burst of grief from

  the audience, not from his fellow-mime . Each word was drawn out

  with difficulty; real anguish painted his features; his eyes were now

  lifted in sudden horror, now fixed in dread upon the ground. This

  shew of terror encreased ours, we gasped with him, each neck was

  stretched out, each face changed with the actor’s changes— at length

  while Macduff, who, attending to his part, was unobservant of the

  high wrought sympathy of the house, cried with well acted passion:

  All my pretty ones?

  Did you say all?—O hell kite! All?

  What! all my pretty chickens, and their dam,

  At one fell swoop!

  A pang of tameless grief wrenched every heart, a burst of de-

  spair was echoed from every lip .—I had entered into the universal

  feeling—I had been absorbed by the terrors of Rosse—I re-echoed

  the cry of Macduff, and then rushed out as from an hell of torture, to

  find calm in the free air and silent street.

  Free the air was not, or the street silent . Oh, how I longed then

  for the dear soothings of maternal Nature, as my wounded heart was

  still further stung by the roar of heartless merriment from the public-

  house, by the sight of the drunkard reeling home, having lost the

  memory of what he would find there in oblivious debauch, and by

  the more appalling salutations of those melancholy beings to whom

  the name of home was a mockery . I ran on at my utmost speed until

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  I found myself I knew not how, close to Westminster Abbey, and

  was attracted by the deep and swelling tone of the organ . I entered

  with soothing awe the lighted chancel, and listened to the solemn

  religious chaunt, which spoke peace and hope to the unhappy . The

  notes, freighted with man’s dearest prayers, re-echoed through the

  dim aisles, and the bleeding of the soul’s wounds was staunched by

  heavenly balm . In spite of the misery I deprecated, and could not

  understand; in spite of the cold hearths of wide London, and the

  corpse-strewn fields of my native land; in spite of all the variety of

  agonizing emotions I had that evening experienced, I thought that

  in reply to our melodious adjurations, the Creator looked down in

  compassion and promise of relief; the awful peal of the heaven-

  winged music seemed fitting voice wherewith to commune with the

  Supreme; calm was produced by its sound, and by the sight of many

  other human creatures offering up prayers and submission with me .

  A sentiment approaching happiness followed the total resignation

  of one’s being to the guardianship of the world’s ruler . Alas! with

  the failing of this solemn strain, the elevated spirit sank again to

  earth . Suddenly one of the choristers died—he was lifted from his

  desk, the vaults below were hastily opened—he was consigned with

  a few muttered prayers to the darksome cavern, abode of thousands

  who had gone before—now wide yawning to receive even all who

  fulfilled the funeral rites. In vain I would then have turned from

  this scene, to darkened aisle or lofty dome, echoing with melodious

  praise . In the open air alone I found relief; among nature’s beauteous

  works, her God reassumed his attribute of benevolence, and again I

  could trust that he who built up the mountains, planted the forests,

  and poured out the rivers, would erect another state for lost human-

  ity, where we might awaken again to our affections, our happiness,

  and our faith .

  Fortunately for me those circumstances were of rare occurrence

  that obliged me to visit London, and my duties were confined to

  the rural district which our lofty castle overlooked; and here labour

  stood in the place of pastime, to occupy such of the country people

  as were sufficiently exempt from sorrow or disease. My endeavours

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  were directed towards urging them to their usual attention to their

  crops, and to the acting as if pestilence did not exist . The mower’s

  scythe was at times heard; yet the joyless haymakers after they had

  listlessly turned the grass, forgot to cart it; the shepherd, when he

  had sheared his sheep, would let the wool lie to be scattered by the

  winds, deeming it useless to provide clothing for another winter .

  At times however the spirit of life was awakened by the
se employ-

  ments; the sun, the refreshing breeze, the sweet smell of the hay, the

  rustling leaves and prattling rivulets brought repose to the agitated

  bosom, and bestowed a feeling akin to happiness on the apprehen-

  sive . Nor, strange to say, was the time without its pleasures . Young

  couples, who had loved long and hopelessly, suddenly found every

  impediment removed, and wealth pour in from the death of rela-

  tives . The very danger drew them closer . The immediate peril urged

  them to seize the immediate opportunity; wildly and passionately

  they sought to know what delights existence afforded, before they

  yielded to death, and

  Snatching their pleasures with rough strife

  Thorough the iron gates of life,13

  they defied the conquering pestilence to destroy what had been, or to

  erase even from their death-bed thoughts the sentiment of happiness

  which had been theirs .

  One instance of this kind came immediately under our notice,

  where a high-born girl had in early youth given her heart to one

  of meaner extraction . He was a schoolfellow and friend of her

  brother’s, and usually spent a part of the holidays at the mansion of

  the duke her father . They had played together as children, been the

  confidants of each other’s little secrets, mutual aids and consolers in

  difficulty and sorrow. Love had crept in, noiseless, terrorless at first,

  till each felt their life bound up in the other, and at the same time

  knew that they must part . Their extreme youth, and the purity of

  their attachment, made them yield with less resistance to the tyranny

  13

  Andrew Marvell .

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  of circumstances . The father of the fair Juliet separated them; but

  not until the young lover had promised to remain absent only till he

  had rendered himself worthy of her, and she had vowed to preserve

  her virgin heart, his treasure, till he returned to claim and possess it .

  Plague came, threatening to destroy at once the aim of the ambi-

  tious and the hopes of love . Long the Duke of L——derided the idea

  that there could be danger while he pursued his plans of cautious se-

  clusion; and he so far succeeded, that it was not till this second sum-

  mer, that the destroyer, at one fell stroke, overthrew his precautions,

  his security, and his life . Poor Juliet saw one by one, father, mother,

  brothers, and sisters, sicken and die. Most of the servants fled on the

  first appearance of disease, those who remained were infected mor-

  tally; no neighbour or rustic ventured within the verge of contagion .

  By a strange fatality Juliet alone escaped, and she to the last waited

  on her relatives, and smoothed the pillow of death . The moment at

  length came, when the last blow was given to the last of the house:

  the youthful survivor of her race sat alone among the dead . There

  was no living being near to soothe her, or withdraw her from this

  hideous company . With the declining heat of a September night, a

  whirlwind of storm, thunder, and hail, rattled round the house, and

  with ghastly harmony sung the dirge of her family . She sat upon the

  ground absorbed in wordless despair, when through the gusty wind

  and bickering rain she thought she heard her name called . Whose

  could that familiar voice be? Not one of her relations, for they lay

  glaring on her with stony eyes . Again her name was syllabled, and

  she shuddered as she asked herself, am I becoming mad, or am I dy-

  ing, that I hear the voices of the departed? A second thought passed,

  swift as an arrow, into her brain; she rushed to the window; and a

  flash of lightning shewed to her the expected vision, her lover in

  the shrubbery beneath; joy lent her strength to descend the stairs, to

  open the door, and then she fainted in his supporting arms .

  A thousand times she reproached herself, as with a crime, that

  she should revive to happiness with him . The natural clinging of

  the human mind to life and joy was in its full energy in her young

  heart; she gave herself impetuously up to the enchantment: they

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  were married; and in their radiant features I saw incarnate, for the

  last time, the spirit of love, of rapturous sympathy, which once had

  been the life of the world .

  I envied them, but felt how impossible it was to imbibe the

  same feeling, now that years had multiplied my ties in the world .

  Above all, the anxious mother, my own beloved and drooping Idris,

  claimed my earnest care; I could not reproach the anxiety that never

  for a moment slept in her heart, but I exerted myself to distract her

  attention from too keen an observation of the truth of things, of the

  near and nearer approaches of disease, misery, and death, of the

  wild look of our attendants as intelligence of another and yet an-

  other death reached us; for to the last something new occurred that

  seemed to transcend in horror all that had gone before . Wretched be-

  ings crawled to die under our succouring roof; the inhabitants of the

  Castle decreased daily, while the survivors huddled together in fear,

  and, as in a famine-struck boat, the sport of the wild, interminable

  waves, each looked in the other’s face, to guess on whom the death-

  lot would next fall . All this I endeavoured to veil, so that it might

  least impress my Idris; yet, as I have said, my courage survived even

  despair: I might be vanquished, but I would not yield .

  One day, it was the ninth of September, seemed devoted to every

  disaster, to every harrowing incident . Early in the day, I heard of

  the arrival of the aged grandmother of one of our servants at the

  Castle . This old woman had reached her hundredth year; her skin

  was shrivelled, her form was bent and lost in extreme decrepitude;

  but as still from year to year she continued in existence, out-living

  many younger and stronger, she began to feel as if she were to live

  for ever . The plague came, and the inhabitants of her village died .

  Clinging, with the dastard feeling of the aged, to the remnant of

  her spent life, she had, on hearing that the pestilence had come into

  her neighbourhood, barred her door, and closed her casement, refus-

  ing to communicate with any . She would wander out at night to get

  food, and returned home, pleased that she had met no one, that she

  was in no danger from the plague . As the earth became more deso-

  late, her difficulty in acquiring sustenance increased; at first, her

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  son, who lived near, had humoured her by placing articles of food

  in her way: at last he died . But, even though threatened by famine,

  her fear of the plague was paramount; and her greatest care was to

  avoid her fellow creatures . She grew weaker each day, and each day

  she had further to go . The night before, she had reached Datchet;

  and, prowling about, had found a baker’s shop open and deserted .

  Laden with spoil, she hastened to return, and lost her way . The night

  was windless, hot, and cloudy; her load became too heavy for her;r />
  and one by one she threw away her loaves, still endeavouring to get

  along, though her hobbling fell into lameness, and her weakness at

  last into inability to move .

  She lay down among the tall corn, and fell asleep . Deep in mid-

  night, she was awaked by a rustling near her; she would have started

  up, but her stiff joints refused to obey her will . A low moan close to

  her ear followed, and the rustling increased; she heard a smothered

  voice breathe out, Water, Water! several times; and then again a sigh

  heaved from the heart of the sufferer . The old woman shuddered,

  she contrived at length to sit upright; but her teeth chattered, and her

  knees knocked together—close, very close, lay a half-naked figure,

  just discernible in the gloom, and the cry for water and the stifled

  moan were again uttered . Her motions at length attracted the atten-

  tion of her unknown companion; her hand was seized with a convul-

  sive violence that made the grasp feel like iron, the fingers like the

  keen teeth of a trap .—“At last you are come!” were the words given

  forth—but this exertion was the last effort of the dying—the joints

  relaxed, the figure fell prostrate, one low moan, the last, marked the

  moment of death . Morning broke; and the old woman saw the corpse,

  marked with the fatal disease, close to her; her wrist was livid with

  the hold loosened by death . She felt struck by the plague; her aged

  frame was unable to bear her away with sufficient speed; and now,

  believing herself infected, she no longer dreaded the association of

  others; but, as swiftly as she might, came to her grand-daughter, at

  Windsor Castle, there to lament and die . The sight was horrible; still

  she clung to life, and lamented her mischance with cries and hideous

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  groans; while the swift advance of the disease shewed, what proved

  to be the fact, that she could not survive many hours .

  While I was directing that the necessary care should be taken of

  her, Clara came in; she was trembling and pale; and, when I anx-

  iously asked her the cause of her agitation, she threw herself into

  my arms weeping and exclaiming—“Uncle, dearest uncle, do not

  hate me for ever! I must tell you, for you must know, that Evelyn,

  poor little Evelyn”—her voice was choked by sobs . The fear of so