第 36 页

entirely unaffected, and here shops were open, and the streets still

retained something of their usual appearance. There had been great

want among the poorer classes, owing to the cessation of work,

especially along the riverside. The Lord Mayor, some of the Aldermen,

and most other rich citizens had hastened to leave the City. While

many of the clergy were deserting their flocks, and many doctors

their patients, others remained firmly at their posts, and worked

incessantly, and did all that was possible in order to check the

spread of the Plague and to relieve the distress of the poor.

Numbers of the women were engaged as nurses. Examiners were appointed

in each parish, and these, with their assistants, paid house-to-house

visitations, in order to discover any who were infected; and as soon

as the case was discovered the house was closed, and none suffered to

go in or out, a watchman being placed before the door day and night.

Two men therefore were needed to each infected house, and this

afforded employment for numbers of poor. Others were engaged in

digging graves, or in going round at night, with carts, collecting

the dead.

So great was the dread of the people at the thought of being shut up

in their houses, without communication with the world, that every

means was used for concealing the fact that one of the inmates was

smitten down. This was the more easy because the early stages of the

disease were without pain, and people were generally ignorant that

they had been attacked until within a few hours, and sometimes within

a few minutes, of their death; consequently, when the Plague had once

spread, all the precautions taken to prevent its increase were

useless, while they caused great misery and suffering, and doubtless

very much greater loss of life. For, owing to so many being shut up

in the houses with those affected, and there being no escape from the

infection, whole families, with the servants and apprentices, sickened

and died together.

Cyril frequently went up to view the infected districts. He was not

moved by curiosity, but by a desire to see if there were no way of

being of use. There was not a street but many of the houses were

marked with the red cross. In front of these the watchmen sat on

stools or chairs lent by the inmates, or borrowed from some house

whence the inhabitants had all fled. The air rang with pitiful cries.

Sometimes women, distraught with terror or grief, screamed wildly

through open windows. Sometimes people talked from the upper stories

to their neighbours on either hand, or opposite, prisoners like

themselves, each telling their lamentable tale of misery, of how many

had died and how many remained.

It was by no means uncommon to see on the pavement men and women who,

in the excess of despair or pain, had thrown themselves headlong

down. While such sounds and sights filled Cyril with horror, they

aroused still more his feelings of pity and desire to be of some use.

Very frequently he went on errands for people who called down from

above to him. Money was lowered in a tin dish, or other vessel, in

which it lay covered with vinegar as a disinfectant. Taking it out,

he would go and buy the required articles, generally food or

medicine, and, returning, place them in a basket that was again

lowered.

The watchmen mostly executed these commissions, but many of them were

surly fellows, and, as they were often abused and cursed by those

whom they held prisoners, would do but little for them. They had,

moreover, an excuse for refusing to leave the door, because, as often

happened, it might be opened in their absence and the inmates escape.

It was true that the watchmen had the keys, but the screws were often

drawn from the locks inside; and so frequently was this done that at

last chains with padlocks were fastened to all the doors as soon as

the watch was set over them. But even this did not avail. Many of the

houses had communications at the backs into other streets, and so

eluded the vigilance of the watch; while, in other cases,

communications were broken through the walls into other houses, empty

either by desertion or death, and the escape could thus be made under

the very eye of the watchman.

Very frequently Cyril went into a church when he saw the door open.

Here very small congregations would be gathered, for there was a fear

on the part of all of meeting with strangers, for these might,

unknown to themselves, be already stricken with the pest, and all

public meetings of any kind were, for this reason, strictly

forbidden. One day, he was passing a church that had hitherto been

always closed, its incumbent being one of those who had fled at the

outbreak of the Plague. Upon entering he saw a larger congregation

than usual, some twenty or thirty people being present.

The minister had just mounted the pulpit, and was beginning his

address as Cyril entered. The latter was struck with his appearance.

He was a man of some thirty years of age, with a strangely earnest

face. His voice was deep, but soft and flexible, and in the stillness

of the almost empty church its lowest tones seemed to come with

impressive power, and Cyril thought that he had never heard such

preaching before. The very text seemed strange at such a time:

_"Rejoice ye, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand."_ From most of

the discourses he had heard Cyril had gone out depressed rather than

inspirited. They had been pitched in one tone. The terrible scourge

that raged round them was held up as a punishment sent by the wrath

of God upon a sinful people, and the congregation were warned to

prepare themselves for the fate, that might at any moment be theirs,

by repentance and humiliation. The preacher to whom Cyril was now

listening spoke in an altogether different strain.

"You are all soldiers of Christ," he said, "and now is an opportunity

given to you to show that you are worthy soldiers. When the troops of

a worldly monarch go into battle they do so with head erect, with

proud and resolute bearing, with flashing eye, and with high courage,

determined to bear aloft his banner and to crown it with victory,

even though it cost them their lives. Such is the mien that soldiers

of Christ should bear in the mortal strife now raging round us. Let

them show the same fearlessness of death, the same high courage, the

same unlimited confidence in their Leader. What matter if they die in

His service? He has told them what their work should be. He has

bidden them visit the sick and comfort the sorrowing. What if there

be danger in the work? Did He shrink from the Cross which was to end

His work of love, and is it for His followers to do so? 'Though you

go down into the pit,' He has said, 'I am there also'; and with His

companionship one must be craven indeed to tremble. This is a noble

opportunity for holding high the banner of Christ. There is work to

be done for all, and as the work is done, men should see by the calm

courage, the cheerfulness, and the patience of those that do it, that

they know that they are doing His work, and that they are content to

leave the issue, whatever it be, in His hands."

Such was the tone in which, for half an hour, he spoke. When he had

finished he offered up a prayer, gave the blessing, and then came

down from the pulpit and spoke to several of the congregation. He was

evidently personally known to most of them. One by one, after a few

words, they left the church. Cyril remained to the last.

"I am willing to work, sir," he said, as the preacher came up, "but,

so far, no work has come in my way."

"Have you father or mother, or any dependent on you?"

"No one, sir."

"Then come along with me; I lodge close by. I have eaten nothing

to-day, and must keep up my strength, and I have a long round of

calls to make."

"This is the first time I have seen the church open," Cyril said, as

they went out.

"It is not my church, sir, nor do I belong to the Church of England;

I am an Independent. But as many of the pastors have fled and left

their sheep untended, so have we--for there are others besides myself

who have done so--taken possession of their empty pulpits, none

gainsaying us, and are doing what good we can. You have been in the

war, I see," he went on, glancing at Cyril's arm, which was carried

in a sling.

"Yes; I was at the battle of Lowestoft, and having been wounded

there, came to London to stay in a friend's house till I was cured.

He and his family have left, but I am living with a trusty foreman

who is in charge of the house. I have a great desire to be useful. I

myself have little fear of the Plague."

"That is the best of all preservatives from its ravages, although not

a sure one; for many doctors who have laboured fearlessly have yet

died. Have you thought of any way of being useful?"

"No, sir; that is what is troubling me. As you see, I have but the

use of one arm, and I have not got back my full strength by a long

way."

"Everyone can be useful if he chooses," the minister said. "There is

need everywhere among this stricken, frightened, helpless people, of

men of calm courage and cool heads. Nine out of ten are so scared out

of their senses, when once the Plague enters the houses, as to be

well-nigh useless, and yet the law hinders those who would help if

they could. I am compelled to labour, not among those who are sick,

but among those who are well. When one enters a house with the red

cross on the door, he may leave it no more until he is either borne

out to the dead-cart, or the Plague has wholly disappeared within it,

and a month has elapsed. The sole exception are the doctors; they are

no more exempt from spreading the infection than other men, but as

they must do their work so far as they can they have free passage;

and yet, so few is their number and so heavy already their losses,

that not one in a hundred of those that are smitten can have their

aid. Here is one coming now, one of the best--Dr. Hodges. If you are

indeed willing so to risk your life, I will speak to him. But I know

not your name?"

"My name is Cyril Shenstone."

The clergyman looked at him suddenly, and would have spoken, but the

doctor was now close to them.

"Ah! Mr. Wallace," he said, "I am glad to see you, and to know that,

so far, you have not taken the disease, although constantly going

into the worst neighbourhoods."

"Like yourself, Dr. Hodges, I have no fear of it."

"I do not say I have no fear," the doctor replied. "I do my duty so

far as I can, but I do not doubt that, sooner or later, I shall catch

the malady, as many of us have done already. I take such precautions

as I can, but the distemper seems to baffle all precautions. My only

grief is that our skill avails so little. So far we have found

nothing that seems to be of any real use. Perhaps if we could attack

it in the earlier stages we might be more successful. The strange

nature of the disease, and the way in which it does its work

well-nigh to the end, before the patient is himself aware of it, puts

it out of our power to combat it. In many cases I am not sent for

until the patient is at the point of death, and by the time I reach

his door I am met with the news that he is dead. But I must be

going."

"One moment, Dr. Hodges. This young gentleman has been expressing to

me his desire to be of use. I know nothing of him save that he was

one of my congregation this morning, but, as he fears not the Plague,

and is moved by a desire to help his fellows in distress, I take it

that he is a good youth. He was wounded in the battle of Lowestoft,

and, being as ready to encounter the Plague as he was the Dutch,

would now fight in the cause of humanity. Would you take him as an

assistant? I doubt if he knows anything of medicine, but I think he

is one that would see your orders carried out. He has no relations or

friends, and therefore considers himself free to venture his life."

The doctor looked earnestly at Cyril and then raised his hat.

"Young sir," he said, "since you are willing so to venture your life,

I will gladly accept your help. There are few enough clear heads in

this city, God knows. As for the nurses, they are Jezebels. They have

the choice of starving or nursing, and they nurse; but they neglect

their patients, they rob them, and there is little doubt that in many

cases they murder them, so that at the end of their first nursing

they may have enough money to live on without going to another house.

But I am pressed for time. Here is my card. Call on me this evening

at six, and we will talk further on the matter."

Shaking hands with the minister he hurried away.

"Come as far as my lodgings," Mr. Wallace said to Cyril, "and stay

with me while I eat my meal. 'Tis a diversion to one's mind to turn

for a moment from the one topic that all men are speaking of.

"Your name is Shenstone. I come from Norfolk. There was a family of

that name formerly had estates near my native place. One Sir Aubrey

Shenstone was at its head--a brave gentleman. I well remember seeing

him when I was a boy, but he took the side of the King against the

Parliament, and, as we heard, passed over with Charles to France when

his cause was lost. I have not heard of him since."

"Sir Aubrey was my father," Cyril said quietly; "he died a year ago.

I am his only son."

"And therefore Sir Cyril," the minister said, "though you did not so

name yourself."

"It was needless," Cyril said. "I have no estates to support my

title, and though it is true that, when at sea with Prince Rupert, I

was called Sir Cyril, it was because the Prince had known my father,

and knew that I, at his death, inherited the title, though I

inherited nothing else."

They now reached the door of Mr. Wallace's lodging, and went up to