CHAPTER XVI.
The features of one whom I had seen so transiently as Wallace may beimagined to be not easily recognised, especially when those featureswere tremulous and deathful. Here, however, the differences were tooconspicuous to mislead me. I beheld one in whom I could recollect nonethat bore resemblance. Though ghastly and livid, the traces ofintelligence and beauty were undefaced. The life of Wallace was of morevalue to a feeble individual; but surely the being that was stretchedbefore me, and who was hastening to his last breath, was precious tothousands.
Was he not one in whose place I would willingly have died? The offeringwas too late. His extremities were already cold. A vapour, noisome andcontagious, hovered over him. The flutterings of his pulse had ceased.His existence was about to close amidst convulsion and pangs.
I withdrew my gaze from this object, and walked to a table. I was nearlyunconscious of my movements. My thoughts were occupied withcontemplations of the train of horrors and disasters that pursue therace of man. My musings were quickly interrupted by the sight of a smallcabinet, the hinges of which were broken and the lid half raised. In thepresent state of my thoughts, I was prone to suspect the worst. Herewere traces of pillage. Some casual or mercenary attendant had not onlycontributed to hasten the death of the patient, but had rifled hisproperty and fled.
This suspicion would, perhaps, have yielded to mature reflections, if Ihad been suffered to reflect. A moment scarcely elapsed, when someappearance in the mirror, which hung over the table, called myattention. It was a human figure. Nothing could be briefer than theglance that I fixed upon this apparition; yet there was room enough forthe vague conception to suggest itself, that the dying man had startedfrom his bed and was approaching me. This belief was, at the sameinstant, confuted, by the survey of his form and garb. One eye, a scarupon his cheek, a tawny skin, a form grotesquely misproportioned, brawnyas Hercules, and habited in livery, composed, as it were, the parts ofone view.
To perceive, to fear, and to confront this apparition were blended intoone sentiment. I turned towards him with the swiftness of lightning; butmy speed was useless to my safety. A blow upon my temple was succeededby an utter oblivion of thought and of feeling. I sunk upon the floorprostrate and senseless.
My insensibility might be mistaken by observers for death, yet some partof this interval was haunted by a fearful dream. I conceived myselflying on the brink of a pit, whose bottom the eye could not reach. Myhands and legs were fettered, so as to disable me from resisting twogrim and gigantic figures who stooped to lift me from the earth. Theirpurpose, methought, was to cast me into this abyss. My terrors wereunspeakable, and I struggled with such force, that my bonds snapped andI found myself at liberty. At this moment my senses returned, and Iopened my eyes.
The memory of recent events was, for a time, effaced by my visionaryhorrors. I was conscious of transition from one state of being toanother; but my imagination was still filled with images of danger. Thebottomless gulf and my gigantic persecutors were still dreaded. I lookedup with eagerness. Beside me I discovered three figures, whose characteror office was explained by a coffin of pine boards which lay upon thefloor. One stood with hammer and nails in his hand, as ready to replaceand fasten the lid of the coffin as soon as its burden should bereceived.
I attempted to rise from the floor, but my head was dizzy and my sightconfused. Perceiving me revive, one of the men assisted me to regain myfeet. The mist and confusion presently vanished, so as to allow me tostand unsupported and to move. I once more gazed at my attendants, andrecognised the three men whom I had met in High Street, and whoseconversation I have mentioned that I overheard. I looked again upon thecoffin. A wavering recollection of the incidents that led me hither, andof the stunning blow which I had received, occurred to me. I saw intowhat error appearances had misled these men, and shuddered to reflect bywhat hairbreadth means I had escaped being buried alive.
Before the men had time to interrogate me, or to comment upon mysituation, one entered the apartment, whose habit and mien tended toencourage me. The stranger was characterized by an aspect full ofcomposure and benignity, a face in which the serious lines of age wereblended with the ruddiness and smoothness of youth, and a garb thatbespoke that religious profession with whose benevolent doctrines theexample of Hadwin had rendered me familiar.
On observing me on my feet, he betrayed marks of surprise andsatisfaction. He addressed me in a tone of mildness:--
"Young man," said he, "what is thy condition? Art thou sick? If thouart, thou must consent to receive the best treatment which the timeswill afford. These men will convey thee to the hospital at Bush Hill."
The mention of that contagious and abhorred receptacle inspired me withsome degree of energy. "No," said I, "I am not sick; a violent blowreduced me to this situation. I shall presently recover strength enoughto leave this spot without assistance."
He looked at me with an incredulous but compassionate air:--"I fear thoudost deceive thyself or me. The necessity of going to the hospital ismuch to be regretted, but, on the whole, it is best. Perhaps, indeed,thou hast kindred or friends who will take care of thee?"
"No," said I; "neither kindred nor friends. I am a stranger in the city.I do not even know a single being."
"Alas!" returned the stranger, with a sigh, "thy state is sorrowful.But how camest thou hither?" continued he, looking around him; "andwhence comest thou?"
"I came from the country. I reached the city a few hours ago. I was insearch of a friend who lived in this house."
"Thy undertaking was strangely hazardous and rash; but who is the friendthou seekest? Was it he who died in that bed, and whose corpse has justbeen removed?"
The men now betrayed some impatience; and inquired of the last comer,whom they called Mr. Estwick, what they were to do. He turned to me, andasked if I were willing to be conducted to the hospital.
I assured him that I was free from disease, and stood in no need ofassistance; adding, that my feebleness was owing to a stunning blowreceived from a ruffian on my temple. The marks of this blow wereconspicuous, and after some hesitation he dismissed the men; who,lifting the empty coffin on their shoulders, disappeared.
He now invited me to descend into the parlour; "for," said he, "the airof this room is deadly. I feel already as if I should have reason torepent of having entered it."
He now inquired into the cause of those appearances which he hadwitnessed. I explained my situation as clearly and succinctly as I wasable.
After pondering, in silence, on my story,--"I see how it is," said he;"the person whom thou sawest in the agonies of death was a stranger. Hewas attended by his servant and a hired nurse. His master's death beingcertain, the nurse was despatched by the servant to procure a coffin. Heprobably chose that opportunity to rifle his master's trunk, that stoodupon the table. Thy unseasonable entrance interrupted him; and hedesigned, by the blow which he gave thee, to secure his retreat beforethe arrival of a hearse. I know the man, and the apparition thou hast sowell described was his. Thou sayest that a friend of thine lived in thishouse: thou hast come too late to be of service. The whole family haveperished. Not one was suffered to escape."
This intelligence was fatal to my hopes. It required some efforts tosubdue my rising emotions. Compassion not only for Wallace, but forThetford, his father, his wife and his child, caused a passionateeffusion of tears. I was ashamed of this useless and childlikesensibility; and attempted to apologize to my companion. The sympathy,however, had proved contagious, and the stranger turned away his face tohide his own tears.
"Nay," said he, in answer to my excuses, "there is no need to be ashamedof thy emotion. Merely to have known this family, and to have witnessedtheir deplorable fate, is sufficient to melt the most obdurate heart. Isuspect that thou wast united to some one of this family by ties oftenderness like those which led the unfortunate _Maravegli_ hither."
This suggestion was attended, in relation to myself, with some degree ofobscurity; but my curiosity was som
ewhat excited by the name that he hadmentioned, I inquired into the character and situation of this person,and particularly respecting his connection with this family.
"Maravegli," answered he, "was the lover of the eldest daughter, andalready betrothed to her. The whole family, consisting of helplessfemales, had placed themselves under his peculiar guardianship. MaryWalpole and her children enjoyed in him a husband and a father."
The name of Walpole, to which I was a stranger, suggested doubts which Ihastened to communicate. "I am in search," said I, "not of a femalefriend, though not devoid of interest in the welfare of Thetford and hisfamily. My principal concern is for a youth, by name Wallace."
He looked at me with surprise. "Thetford! this is not his abode. Hechanged his habitation some weeks previous to the _fever_. Those wholast dwelt under this roof were an Englishwoman and seven daughters."
This detection of my error somewhat consoled me. It was still possiblethat Wallace was alive and in safety. I eagerly inquired whitherThetford had removed, and whether he had any knowledge of his presentcondition.
They had removed to No.--, in Market Street. Concerning their state heknew nothing. His acquaintance with Thetford was imperfect. Whether hehad left the city or had remained, he was wholly uninformed.
It became me to ascertain the truth in these respects. I was preparingto offer my parting thanks to the person by whom I had been so highlybenefited; since, as he now informed me, it was by his interpositionthat I was hindered from being enclosed alive in a coffin. He wasdubious of my true condition, and peremptorily commanded the followersof the hearse to desist. A delay of twenty minutes, and some medicalapplication, would, he believed, determine whether my life wasextinguished or suspended. At the end of this time, happily, my senseswere recovered.
Seeing my intention to depart, he inquired why, and whither I was going.Having heard my answer,--"Thy design," resumed he, "is highly indiscreetand rash. Nothing will sooner generate this fever than fatigue andanxiety. Thou hast scarcely recovered from the blow so lately received.Instead of being useful to others, this precipitation will only disablethyself. Instead of roaming the streets and inhaling this unwholesomeair, thou hadst better betake thyself to bed and try to obtain somesleep. In the morning, thou wilt be better qualified to ascertain thefate of thy friend, and afford him the relief which he shall want."
I could not but admit the reasonableness of these remonstrances; butwhere should a chamber and bed be sought? It was not likely that a newattempt to procure accommodation at the inns would succeed better thanthe former.
"Thy state," replied he, "is sorrowful. I have no house to which I canlead thee. I divide my chamber, and even my bed, with another, and mylandlady could not be prevailed upon to admit a stranger. What thou wiltdo, I know not. This house has no one to defend it. It was purchased andfurnished by the last possessor; but the whole family, includingmistress, children, and servants, were cut off in a single week.Perhaps no one in America can claim the property. Meanwhile, plunderersare numerous and active. A house thus totally deserted, and replenishedwith valuable furniture, will, I fear, become their prey. To-nightnothing can be done towards rendering it secure, but staying in it. Artthou willing to remain here till the morrow?
"Every bed in the house has probably sustained a dead person. It wouldnot be proper, therefore, to lie in any one of them. Perhaps thou mayestfind some repose upon this carpet. It is, at least, better than theharder pavement and the open air."
This proposal, after some hesitation, I embraced. He was preparing toleave me, promising, if life were spared to him, to return early in themorning. My curiosity respecting the person whose dying agonies I hadwitnessed prompted me to detain him a few minutes.
"Ah!" said he, "this, perhaps, is the only one of many victims to thispestilence whose loss the remotest generations may have reason todeplore. He was the only descendant of an illustrious house of Venice.He has been devoted from his childhood to the acquisition of knowledgeand the practice of virtue. He came hither as an enlightened observer;and, after traversing the country, conversing with all the men in iteminent for their talents or their office, and collecting a fund ofobservations whose solidity and justice have seldom been paralleled, heembarked, three months ago, for Europe.
"Previously to his departure, he formed a tender connection with theeldest daughter of this family. The mother and her children had recentlyarrived from England. So many faultless women, both mentally andpersonally considered, it was not my fortune to meet with before. Thisyouth well deserved to be adopted into this family. He proposed toreturn with the utmost expedition to his native country, and, after thesettlement of his affairs, to hasten back to America and ratify hiscontract with Fanny Walpole.
"The ship in which he embarked had scarcely gone twenty leagues to sea,before she was disabled by a storm, and obliged to return to port. Heposted to New York, to gain a passage in a packet shortly to sail.Meanwhile this malady prevailed among us. Mary Walpole pole was hinderedby her ignorance of the nature of that evil which assailed us, and thecounsel of injudicious friends, from taking the due precautions for hersafety. She hesitated to fly till flight was rendered impracticable. Herdeath added to the helplessness and distraction of the family. They weresuccessively seized and destroyed by the same pest.
"Maravegli was apprized of their danger. He allowed the packet to departwithout him, and hastened to rescue the Walpoles from the perils whichencompassed them. He arrived in this city time enough to witness theinterment of the last survivor. In the same hour he was seized himselfby this disease: the catastrophe is known to thee.
"I will now leave thee to thy repose. Sleep is no less needful to myselfthan to thee; for this is the second night which has passed without it."Saying this, my companion took his leave.
I now enjoyed leisure to review my situation. I experienced noinclination to sleep. I lay down for a moment, but my comfortlesssensations and restless contemplations would not permit me to rest.Before I entered this house, I was tormented with hunger; but my cravinghad given place to inquietude and loathing. I paced, in thoughtful andanxious mood, across the floor of the apartment.
I mused upon the incidents related by Estwick, upon the exterminatingnature of this pestilence, and on the horrors of which it wasproductive. I compared the experience of the last hours with thosepictures which my imagination had drawn in the retirements of_Malverton_. I wondered at the contrariety that exists between thescenes of the city and the country; and fostered, with more zeal thanever, the resolution to avoid those seats of depravity and danger.
Concerning my own destiny, however, I entertained no doubt. My newsensations assured me that my stomach had received this corrosivepoison. Whether I should die or live was easily decided. The sicknesswhich assiduous attendance and powerful prescriptions might removewould, by negligence and solitude, be rendered fatal; but from whomcould I expect medical or friendly treatment?
I had indeed a roof over my head. I should not perish in the public way;but what was my ground for hoping to continue under this roof? Mysickness being suspected, I should be dragged in a cart to the hospital;where I should, indeed, die, but not with the consolation of lonelinessand silence. Dying groans were the only music, and livid corpses werethe only spectacle, to which I should there be introduced.
Immured in these dreary meditations, the night passed away. The lightglancing through the window awakened in my bosom a gleam ofcheerfulness. Contrary to my expectations, my feelings were not moredistempered, notwithstanding my want of sleep, than on the last evening.This was a token that my state was far from being so desperate as Isuspected. It was possible, I thought, that this was the worstindisposition to which I was liable.
Meanwhile, the coming of Estwick was impatiently expected. The sunarose, and the morning advanced, but he came not. I remembered that hetalked of having reason to repent his visit to this house. Perhaps he,likewise, was sick, and this was the cause of his delay. This man'skindness had even my love. If I had known t
he way to his dwelling, Ishould have hastened thither, to inquire into his condition, and toperform for him every office that humanity might enjoin; but he had notafforded me any information on that head.
Arthur Mervyn; Or, Memoirs of the Year 1793 Page 16