The Plague, Pestilence & Apocalypse MEGAPACK™

by Robert Reed

  mighty a calamity as the loss of our adored infant made the current

  of my blood pause with chilly horror; but the remembrance of the

  mother restored my presence of mind . I sought the little bed of my

  darling; he was oppressed by fever; but I trusted, I fondly and fear-

  fully trusted, that there were no symptoms of the plague . He was not

  three years old, and his illness appeared only one of those attacks

  incident to infancy . I watched him long—his heavy half-closed lids,

  his burning cheeks and restless twining of his small fingers—the

  fever was violent, the torpor complete—enough, without the greater

  fear of pestilence, to awaken alarm . Idris must not see him in this

  state . Clara, though only twelve years old, was rendered, through

  extreme sensibility, so prudent and careful, that I felt secure in en-

  trusting the charge of him to her, and it was my task to prevent Idris

  from observing their absence. I administered the fitting remedies,

  and left my sweet niece to watch beside him, and bring me notice of

  any change she should observe .

  I then went to Idris, contriving in my way, plausible excuses for

  remaining all day in the Castle, and endeavouring to disperse the

  traces of care from my brow . Fortunately she was not alone . I found

  Merrival, the astronomer, with her . He was far too long sighted in

  his view of humanity to heed the casualties of the day, and lived

  in the midst of contagion unconscious of its existence . This poor

  man, learned as La Place, guileless and unforeseeing as a child, had

  often been on the point of starvation, he, his pale wife and numer-

  ous offspring, while he neither felt hunger, nor observed distress .

  His astronomical theories absorbed him; calculations were scrawled

  with coal on the bare walls of his garret: a hard-earned guinea, or

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  an article of dress, was exchanged for a book without remorse; he

  neither heard his children cry, nor observed his companion’s ema-

  ciated form, and the excess of calamity was merely to him as the

  occurrence of a cloudy night, when he would have given his right

  hand to observe a celestial phenomenon . His wife was one of those

  wondrous beings, to be found only among women, with affections

  not to be diminished by misfortune . Her mind was divided between

  boundless admiration for her husband, and tender anxiety for her

  children—she waited on him, worked for them, and never com-

  plained, though care rendered her life one long-drawn, melancholy

  dream .

  He had introduced himself to Adrian, by a request he made to

  observe some planetary motions from his glass . His poverty was

  easily detected and relieved . He often thanked us for the books we

  lent him, and for the use of our instruments, but never spoke of his

  altered abode or change of circumstances . His wife assured us, that

  he had not observed any difference, except in the absence of the

  children from his study, and to her infinite surprise he complained

  of this unaccustomed quiet .

  He came now to announce to us the completion of his Essay on

  the Pericyclical Motions of the Earth’s Axis, and the precession of

  the equinoctial points . If an old Roman of the period of the Republic

  had returned to life, and talked of the impending election of some

  laurel-crowned consul, or of the last battle with Mithridates, his

  ideas would not have been more alien to the times, than the conver-

  sation of Merrival . Man, no longer with an appetite for sympathy,

  clothed his thoughts in visible signs; nor were there any readers left:

  while each one, having thrown away his sword with opposing shield

  alone, awaited the plague, Merrival talked of the state of mankind

  six thousand years hence . He might with equal interest to us, have

  added a commentary, to describe the unknown and unimaginable

  lineaments of the creatures, who would then occupy the vacated

  dwelling of mankind . We had not the heart to undeceive the poor old

  man; and at the moment I came in, he was reading parts of his book

  to Idris, asking what answer could be given to this or that position .

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  Idris could not refrain from a smile, as she listened; she had al-

  ready gathered from him that his family was alive and in health;

  though not apt to forget the precipice of time on which she stood, yet

  I could perceive that she was amused for a moment, by the contrast

  between the contracted view we had so long taken of human life,

  and the seven league strides with which Merrival paced a coming

  eternity . I was glad to see her smile, because it assured me of her

  total ignorance of her infant’s danger: but I shuddered to think of

  the revulsion that would be occasioned by a discovery of the truth .

  While Merrival was talking, Clara softly opened a door behind Id-

  ris, and beckoned me to come with a gesture and look of grief . A

  mirror betrayed the sign to Idris—she started up . To suspect evil,

  to perceive that, Alfred being with us, the danger must regard her

  youngest darling, to fly across the long chambers into his apartment,

  was the work but of a moment . There she beheld her Evelyn lying

  fever-stricken and motionless . I followed her, and strove to inspire

  more hope than I could myself entertain; but she shook her head

  mournfully . Anguish deprived her of presence of mind; she gave

  up to me and Clara the physician’s and nurse’s parts; she sat by the

  bed, holding one little burning hand, and, with glazed eyes fixed

  on her babe, passed the long day in one unvaried agony . It was not

  the plague that visited our little boy so roughly; but she could not

  listen to my assurances; apprehension deprived her of judgment and

  reflection; every slight convulsion of her child’s features shook her

  frame —if he moved, she dreaded the instant crisis; if he remained

  still, she saw death in his torpor, and the cloud on her brow darkened .

  The poor little thing’s fever encreased towards night . The sensa-

  tion is most dreary, to use no stronger term, with which one looks

  forward to passing the long hours of night beside a sick bed, espe-

  cially if the patient be an infant, who cannot explain its pain, and

  whose flickering life resembles the wasting flame of the watch-light,

  Whose narrow fire

  Is shaken by the wind, and on whose edge

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  Devouring darkness hovers.14

  With eagerness one turns toward the east, with angry impatience

  one marks the unchequered darkness; the crowing of a cock, that

  sound of glee during day-time, comes wailing and untuneable—the

  creaking of rafters, and slight stir of invisible insect is heard and

  felt as the signal and type of desolation . Clara, overcome by weari-

  ness, had seated herself at the foot of her cousin’s bed, and in spite

  of her efforts slumber weighed down her lids; twice or thrice she

  shook it off; but at length she was conquered and slept . Idris sat

  at the bedside, holding Evelyn’s hand; we were afraid to speak
to

  each other; I watched the stars —I hung over my child—I felt his

  little pulse—I drew near the mother—again I receded . At the turn

  of morning a gentle sigh from the patient attracted me, the burning

  spot on his cheek faded—his pulse beat softly and regularly—torpor

  yielded to sleep . For a long time I dared not hope; but when his

  unobstructed breathing and the moisture that suffused his forehead,

  were tokens no longer to be mistaken of the departure of mortal

  malady, I ventured to whisper the news of the change to Idris, and at

  length succeeded in persuading her that I spoke truth .

  But neither this assurance, nor the speedy convalescence of our

  child could restore her, even to the portion of peace she before

  enjoyed . Her fear had been too deep, too absorbing, too entire, to

  be changed to security . She felt as if during her past calm she had

  dreamed, but was now awake; she was

  As one

  In some lone watch-tower on the deep, awakened

  From soothing visions of the home he loves,

  Trembling to hear the wrathful billows roar;15

  as one who has been cradled by a storm, and awakes to find the

  vessel sinking . Before, she had been visited by pangs of fear—now,

  she never enjoyed an interval of hope . No smile of the heart ever

  14

  The Cenci

  15

  The Brides’ Tragedy, by T . L . Beddoes, Esq .

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  irradiated her fair countenance; sometimes she forced one, and then

  gushing tears would flow, and the sea of grief close above these

  wrecks of past happiness . Still while I was near her, she could not be

  in utter despair— she fully confided herself to me—she did not seem

  to fear my death, or revert to its possibility; to my guardianship she

  consigned the full freight of her anxieties, reposing on my love, as a

  wind-nipped fawn by the side of a doe, as a wounded nestling under

  its mother’s wing, as a tiny, shattered boat, quivering still, beneath

  some protecting willow-tree . While I, not proudly as in days of joy,

  yet tenderly, and with glad consciousness of the comfort I afforded,

  drew my trembling girl close to my heart, and tried to ward every

  painful thought or rough circumstance from her sensitive nature .

  One other incident occurred at the end of this summer . The Count-

  ess of Windsor, Ex-Queen of England, returned from Germany . She

  had at the beginning of the season quitted the vacant city of Vienna;

  and, unable to tame her haughty mind to anything like submission,

  she had delayed at Hamburgh, and, when at last she came to London,

  many weeks elapsed before she gave Adrian notice of her arrival .

  In spite of her coldness and long absence, he welcomed her with

  sensibility, displaying such affection as sought to heal the wounds of

  pride and sorrow, and was repulsed only by her total apparent want

  of sympathy . Idris heard of her mother’s return with pleasure . Her

  own maternal feelings were so ardent, that she imagined her parent

  must now, in this waste world, have lost pride and harshness, and

  would receive with delight her filial attentions. The first check to

  her duteous demonstrations was a formal intimation from the fallen

  majesty of England, that I was in no manner to be intruded upon her .

  She consented, she said, to forgive her daughter, and acknowledge

  her grandchildren; larger concessions must not be expected .

  To me this proceeding appeared (if so light a term may be per-

  mitted) extremely whimsical . Now that the race of man had lost

  in fact all distinction of rank, this pride was doubly fatuitous; now

  that we felt a kindred, fraternal nature with all who bore the stamp

  of humanity, this angry reminiscence of times for ever gone, was

  worse than foolish . Idris was too much taken up by her own dreadful

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  fears, to be angry, hardly grieved; for she judged that insensibility

  must be the source of this continued rancour . This was not altogether

  the fact: but predominant self-will assumed the arms and masque of

  callous feeling; and the haughty lady disdained to exhibit any token

  of the struggle she endured; while the slave of pride, she fancied that

  she sacrificed her happiness to immutable principle.

  False was all this—false all but the affections of our nature, and

  the links of sympathy with pleasure or pain . There was but one good

  and one evil in the world—life and death . The pomp of rank, the as-

  sumption of power, the possessions of wealth vanished like morning

  mist . One living beggar had become of more worth than a national

  peerage of dead lords— alas the day!—than of dead heroes, patriots,

  or men of genius . There was much of degradation in this: for even

  vice and virtue had lost their attributes—life—life—the continua-

  tion of our animal mechanism— was the Alpha and Omega of the

  desires, the prayers, the prostrate ambition of human race .

  CHAPTER IX.

  Half England was desolate, when October came, and the equi-

  noctial winds swept over the earth, chilling the ardours of the un-

  healthy season . The summer, which was uncommonly hot, had been

  protracted into the beginning of this month, when on the eighteenth

  a sudden change was brought about from summer temperature to

  winter frost . Pestilence then made a pause in her death-dealing ca-

  reer . Gasping, not daring to name our hopes, yet full even to the

  brim with intense expectation, we stood, as a ship-wrecked sailor

  stands on a barren rock islanded by the ocean, watching a distant

  vessel, fancying that now it nears, and then again that it is bearing

  from sight . This promise of a renewed lease of life turned rugged

  natures to melting tenderness, and by contrast filled the soft with

  harsh and unnatural sentiments . When it seemed destined that all

  were to die, we were reckless of the how and when—now that the

  virulence of the disease was mitigated, and it appeared willing to

  spare some, each was eager to be among the elect, and clung to life

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  with dastard tenacity . Instances of desertion became more frequent;

  and even murders, which made the hearer sick with horror, where

  the fear of contagion had armed those nearest in blood against each

  other . But these smaller and separate tragedies were about to yield to

  a mightier interest—and, while we were promised calm from infec-

  tious influences, a tempest arose wilder than the winds, a tempest

  bred by the passions of man, nourished by his most violent impulses,

  unexampled and dire .

  A number of people from North America, the relics of that popu-

  lous continent, had set sail for the East with mad desire of change,

  leaving their native plains for lands not less afflicted than their own.

  Several hundreds landed in Ireland, about the first of November, and

  took possession of such vacant habitations as they could find; seiz-

  ing upon the superabundant food, and the stray cattle . As they ex-

  hausted the produce of one spot,
they went on to another . At length

  they began to interfere with the inhabitants, and strong in their

  concentrated numbers, ejected the natives from their dwellings, and

  robbed them of their winter store . A few events of this kind roused

  the fiery nature of the Irish; and they attacked the invaders. Some

  were destroyed; the major part escaped by quick and well ordered

  movements; and danger made them careful . Their numbers ably ar-

  ranged; the very deaths among them concealed; moving on in good

  order, and apparently given up to enjoyment, they excited the envy

  of the Irish . The Americans permitted a few to join their band, and

  presently the recruits outnumbered the strangers—nor did they join

  with them, nor imitate the admirable order which, preserved by the

  Trans-Atlantic chiefs, rendered them at once secure and formidable .

  The Irish followed their track in disorganized multitudes; each day

  encreasing; each day becoming more lawless . The Americans were

  eager to escape from the spirit they had roused, and, reaching the

  eastern shores of the island, embarked for England . Their incursion

  would hardly have been felt had they come alone; but the Irish, col-

  lected in unnatural numbers, began to feel the inroads of famine, and

  they followed in the wake of the Americans for England also . The

  crossing of the sea could not arrest their progress . The harbours of

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  the desolate sea-ports of the west of Ireland were filled with vessels

  of all sizes, from the man of war to the small fishers’ boat, which lay

  sailorless, and rotting on the lazy deep . The emigrants embarked by

  hundreds, and unfurling their sails with rude hands, made strange

  havoc of buoy and cordage . Those who modestly betook themselves

  to the smaller craft, for the most part achieved their watery journey

  in safety . Some, in the true spirit of reckless enterprise, went on

  board a ship of an hundred and twenty guns; the vast hull drifted

  with the tide out of the bay, and after many hours its crew of lands-

  men contrived to spread a great part of her enormous canvass—the

  wind took it, and while a thousand mistakes of the helmsman made

  her present her head now to one point, and now to another, the vast

  fields of canvass that formed her sails flapped with a sound like that

  of a huge cataract; or such as a sea-like forest may give forth when