William Harrison Ainsworth

Old Saint Paul’s

Warsaw 2022

Contents

BOOK THE FIRST — APRIL, 1665

I. THE GROCER OF WOOD-STREET AND HIS FAMILY

II. THE COFFIN-MAKER

III. THE GAMESTER AND THE BULLY

IV. THE INTERVIEW

V. THE POMANDER-BOX

VI. THE LIBERTINE PUNISHED

VII. THE PLAGUE NURSE

VIII. THE MOSAICAL RODS

IX. THE MINIATURE

X. THE DUEL

BOOK THE SECOND — MAY, 1665

I. PROGRESS OF THE PESTILENCE

II. IN WHAT MANNER THE GROCER VICTUALLED HIS HOUSE

III. THE QUACK DOCTORS

IV. THE TWO WATCHMEN

V. THE BLIND PIPER AND HIS DAUGHTER

VI. OLD LONDON FROM OLD SAINT PAUL’S

VII. PAUL’S WALK

VIII. THE AMULET

IX. HOW LEONARD WAS CURED OF THE PLAGUE

X. THE PEST-HOUSE IN FINSBURY FIELDS

XI. HOW THE GROCER SHUT UP HIS HOUSE

BOOK THE THIRD JUNE, 1665

I. THE IMPRISONED FAMILY

II. HOW FIRES WERE LIGHTED IN THE STREETS

III. THE DANCE OF DEATH

IV. THE PLAGUE-PIT

V. HOW SAINT PATHOS WAS USED AS A PEST-HOUSE

VI. THE DEPARTURE

VII. THE JOURNEY

VIII. ASHDOWN LODGE

IX. KINGSTON LISLE

BOOK THE FOURTH — SEPTEMBER, 1665

I. THE PLAGUE AT ITS HEIGHT

II. THE SECOND PLAGUE-PIT

III. THE HOUSE IN NICHOLAS-LANE

IV. THE TRIALS OF AMABEL

V. THE MARRIAGE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES

VI. THE CERTIFICATE

BOOK THE FIFTH — DECEMBER, 1665

I. THE DECLINE OF THE PLAGUE

II. THE MIDNIGHT MEETING

BOOK THE SIXTH — SEPTEMBER, 1666

I. THE FIRE-HALL

II. THE FIRST NIGHT OF THE FIRE

III. PROGRESS OF THE FIRE

IV. LEONARD’S INTERVIEW WITH THE KING

V. HOW LEONARD SAVED THE KING’S LIFE

VI. HOW THE GROCER’S HOUSE WAS BURNT

VII. THE BURNING OF SAINT PAUL’S

VIII. HOW LEONARD RESCUED THE LADY ISABELLA

IX. WHAT BEFEL CHOWLES AND JUDITH IN THE VAULTS OF SAINT FAITH’S

X. CONCLUSION

BOOK THE FIRST–APRIL, 1665

I. THE GROCER OF WOOD-STREET AND HIS FAMILY

One night, at the latter end of April, 1665, the family of a citizen of London carrying on an extensive business as a grocer in Wood-street, Cheapside, were assembled, according to custom, at prayer. The grocer’s name was Stephen Bloundel. His family consisted of his wife, three sons, and two daughters. He had, moreover, an apprentice; an elderly female serving as cook; her son, a young man about five-and-twenty, filling the place of porter to the shop and general assistant; and a kitchen-maid. The whole household attended; for the worthy grocer, being a strict observer of his religious duties, as well as a rigid disciplinarian in other respects, suffered no one to be absent, on any plea whatever, except indisposition, from morning and evening devotions; and these were always performed at stated times. In fact, the establishment was conducted with the regularity of clockwork, it being the aim of its master not to pass a single hour of the day unprofitably.

The Grocer and His Family at Prayers

The ordinary prayers gone through, Stephen Bloundel offered up along and fervent supplication to the Most High for protection against the devouring pestilence with which the city was then scourged. He acknowledged that this terrible visitation had been justly brought upon it by the wickedness of its inhabitants; that they deserved their doom, dreadful though it was; that, like the dwellers in Jerusalem before it was given up to ruin and desolation, they “had mocked the messengers of God and despised His word;” that in the language of the prophet, “they had refused to hearken, and pulled away the shoulder, and stopped their ears that they should not hear; yea, had made their heart like an adamant stone, lest they should hear the law and the words which the Lord of Hosts had sent in his spirit by the former prophets.” He admitted that great sins require great chastisement, and that the sins of London were enormous; that it was filled with strifes, seditions, heresies, murders, drunkenness, revellings, and every kind of abomination; that the ordinances of God were neglected, and all manner of vice openly practised; that, despite repeated warnings and afflictions less grievous than the present, these vicious practices had been persisted in. All this he humbly acknowledged. But he implored a gracious Providence, in consideration of his few faithful servants, to spare the others yet a little longer, and give them a last chance of repentance and amendment; or, if this could not be, and their utter extirpation was inevitable, that the habitations of the devout might be exempted from the general destruction–might be places of refuge, as Zoar was to Lot. He concluded by earnestly exhorting those around him to keep constant watch upon themselves; not to murmur at God’s dealings and dispensations; but so to comport themselves, that “they might be able to stand in the day of wrath, in the day of death, and in the day of judgment.” The exhortation produced a powerful effect upon its hearers, and they arose, some with serious, others with terrified looks.

Before proceeding further, it may be desirable to show in what manner the dreadful pestilence referred to by the grocer commenced, and how far its ravages had already extended. Two years before, namely, in 1663, more than a third of the population of Amsterdam was carried off by a desolating plague. Hamburgh was also grievously afflicted about the same time, and in the same manner. Notwithstanding every effort to cut off communication with these states, the insidious disease found its way into England by means of some bales of merchandise, as it was suspected, at the latter end of the year 1664, when two persons died suddenly, with undoubted symptoms of the distemper, in Westminster. Its next appearance was at a house in Long Acre, and its victims two Frenchmen, who had brought goods from the Levant. Smothered for a short time, like a fire upon which coals had been heaped, it broke out with fresh fury in several places.

The consternation now began. The whole city was panic-stricken: nothing was talked of but the plague–nothing planned but means of arresting its progress–one grim and ghastly idea possessed the minds of all. Like a hideous phantom stalking the streets at noon-day, and scaring all in its path, Death took his course through London, and selected his prey at pleasure. The alarm was further increased by the predictions confidently made as to the vast numbers who would be swept away by the visitation; by the prognostications of astrologers; by the prophesyings of enthusiasts; by the denunciations of preachers, and by the portents and prodigies reported to have occurred. During the long and frosty winter preceding this fatal year, a comet appeared in the heavens, the sickly colour of which was supposed to forebode the judgment about to follow. Blazing stars and other meteors, of a lurid hue and strange and preternatural shape, were likewise seen. The sun was said to have set in streams of blood, and the moon to have shown without reflecting a shadow; grisly shapes appeared at night–strange clamours and groans were heard in the air–hearses, coffins, and heaps of unburied dead were discovered in the sky, and great cakes and clots of blood were found in the Tower moat; while a marvellous double tide occurred at London Bridge. All these prodigies were currently reported, and in most cases believed.

The severe frost, before noticed, did not break up till the end of February, and with the thaw the plague frightfully increased in violence. From Drury-lane it spread along Holborn, eastward as far as Great Turnstile, and westward to Saint Giles’s Pound, and so along the Tyburn-road. Saint Andrew’s, Holborn, was next infected; and as this was a much more populous parish than the former, the deaths were more numerous within it. For a while, the disease was checked by Fleet Ditch; it then leaped this narrow boundary, and ascending the opposite hill, carried fearful devastation into Saint James’s, Clerkenwell. At the same time, it attacked Saint Bride’s; thinned the ranks of the thievish horde haunting Whitefriars, and proceeding in a westerly course, decimated Saint Clement Danes.

Hitherto, the city had escaped. The destroyer had not passed Ludgate or Newgate, but environed the walls like a besieging enemy. A few days, however, before the opening of this history, fine weather having commenced, the horrible disease began to grow more rife, and laughing all precautions and impediments to scorn, broke out in the very heart of the stronghold–namely, in Bearbinder-lane, near Stock’s Market, where nine persons died.

At a season so awful, it may be imagined how an impressive address, like that delivered by the grocer, would be received by those who saw in the pestilence, not merely an overwhelming scourge from which few could escape, but a direct manifestation of the Divine displeasure. Not a word was said. Blaize Shotterel, the porter, and old Josyna, his mother, together with Patience, the other woman-servant, betook themselves silently, and with troubled countenances, to the kitchen. Leonard Holt, the apprentice, lingered for a moment to catch a glance from the soft blue eyes of Amabel, the grocer’s eldest daughter (for even the plague was a secondary consideration with him when she was present), and failing in the attempt, he heaved a deep sigh, which was luckily laid to the account of the discourse he had just listened to by his sharp-sighted master, and proceeded to the shop, where he busied himself in arranging matters for the night.

Having just completed his twenty-first year, and his apprenticeship being within a few months of its expiration, Leonard Holt began to think of returning to his native town of Manchester, where he intended to settle, and where he had once fondly hoped the fair Amabel would accompany him, in the character of his bride. Not that he had ever ventured to declare his passion, nor that he had received sufficient encouragement to make it matter of certainty that if he did so declare himself, he should be accepted; but being both “proper and tall,” and having tolerable confidence in his good looks, he had made himself, up to a short time prior to his introduction to the reader, quite easy on the point.

His present misgivings were occasioned by Amabel’s altered manner towards him, and by a rival who, he had reason to fear, had completely superseded him in her good graces. Brought up together from an early age, the grocer’s daughter and the young apprentice had at first regarded each other as brother and sister. By degrees, the feeling changed; Amabel became more reserved, and held little intercourse with Leonard, who, busied with his own concerns, thought little about her. But, as he grew towards manhood, he could not remain insensible to her extraordinary beauty–for extraordinary it was, and such as to attract admiration wherever she went, so that the “Grocer’s Daughter” became the toast among the ruffling gallants of the town, many of whom sought to obtain speech with her. Her parents, however, were far too careful to permit any such approach. Amabel’s stature was lofty; her limbs slight, but exquisitely symmetrical; her features small, and cast in the most delicate mould; her eyes of the softest blue; and her hair luxuriant, and of the finest texture and richest brown. Her other beauties must be left to the imagination; but it ought not to be omitted that she was barely eighteen, and had all the freshness, the innocence, and vivacity of that most charming period of woman’s existence. No wonder she ravished every heart. No wonder, in an age when love-making was more general even than now, that she was beset by admirers. No wonder her father’s apprentice became desperately enamoured of her, and proportionately jealous.

And this brings us to his rival. On the 10th of April, two gallants, both richly attired, and both young and handsome, dismounted before the grocer’s door, and, leaving their steeds to the care of their attendants, entered the shop. They made sundry purchases of conserves, figs, and other dried fruit, chatted familiarly with the grocer, and tarried so long, that at last he began to suspect they must have some motive. All at once, however, they disagreed on some slight matter–Bloundel could not tell what, nor, perhaps, could the disputants, even if their quarrel was not preconcerted–high words arose, and in another moment, swords were drawn, and furious passes exchanged. The grocer called to his eldest son, a stout youth of nineteen, and to Leonard Holt, to separate them. The apprentice seized his cudgel–no apprentice in those days was without one–and rushed towards the combatants, but before he could interfere, the fray was ended. One of them had received a thrust through the sword arm, and his blade dropping, his antagonist declared himself satisfied, and with a grave salute walked off. The wounded man wrapped a lace handkerchief round his arm, but immediately afterwards complained of great faintness. Pitying his condition, and suspecting no harm, the grocer led him into an inner room, where restoratives were offered by Mrs. Bloundel and her daughter Amabel, both of whom had been alarmed by the noise of the conflict. In a short time, the wounded man was so far recovered as to be able to converse with his assistants, especially the younger one; and the grocer having returned to the shop, his discourse became so very animated and tender, that Mrs. Bloundel deemed it prudent to give her daughter a hint to retire. Amabel reluctantly obeyed, for the young stranger was so handsome, so richly dressed, had such a captivating manner, and so distinguished an air, that she was strongly prepossessed in his favour. A second look from her mother, however, caused her to disappear, nor did she return. After waiting with suppressed anxiety for some time, the young gallant departed, overwhelming the good dame with his thanks, and entreating permission to call again. This was peremptorily refused, but, notwithstanding the interdiction, he came on the following day. The grocer chanced to be out at the time, and the gallant, who had probably watched him go forth, deriding the remonstrances of the younger Bloundel and Leonard, marched straight to the inner room, where he found the dame and her daughter. They were much disconcerted at his appearance, and the latter instantly rose with the intention of retiring, but the gallant caught her arm and detained her.

“Do not fly me, Amabel,” he cried, in an impassioned tone, “but suffer me to declare the love I have for you. I cannot live without you.”

Amabel, whose neck and cheeks were crimsoned with blushes, cast down her eyes before the ardent regards of the gallant, and endeavoured to withdraw her hand.

“One word only,” he continued, “and I release you. Am I wholly indifferent to you! Answer me–yes or no!”

“Do notanswer him, Amabel,” interposed her mother. “He is deceiving you. He loves you not. He would ruin you. This is the way with all these court butterflies. Tell him you hate him, child, and bid him begone.”

“But I cannot tell him an untruth, mother,” returned Amabel, artlessly, “for I do nothate him.”

“Then you love me,” cried the young man, falling on his knees, and pressing her hand to his lips. “Tell me so, and make me the happiest of men.”

But Amabel had now recovered from the confusion into which she had been thrown, and, alarmed at her own indiscretion, forcibly withdrew her hand, exclaiming in a cold tone, and with much natural dignity, “Arise, sir. I will not tolerate these freedoms. My mother is right–you have some ill design.”

“By my soul, no!” cried the gallant, passionately. “I love you, and would make you mine.”

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