University of Virginia Library

18. CHAPTER XVIII.

I wandered over this deserted mansion, in a
considerable degree, at random. Effluvia of a pestilential
nature, assailed me from every corner. In the front room of
the second story, I imagined that I discovered vestiges of
that catastrophe which the past night had produced. The
bed appeared as if some one had recently been dragged from
it. The sheets were tinged with yellow, and with that substance
which is said to be characteristic of this disease, the
gangrenous or black vomit. The floor exhibited similar
stains.

There are many, who will regard my conduct as the last
refinement of temerity, or of heroism. Nothing, indeed, more
perplexes me than a review of my own conduct. Not, indeed,
that death is an object always to be dreaded, or that my motive
did not justify my actions; but of all dangers, those allied to
pestilence, by being mysterious and unseen, are the most
formidable. To disarm them of their terrors, requires the
longest familiarity. Nurses and physicians soonest become
intrepid or indifferent; but the rest of mankind recoil from
the scene with unconquerable loathing.

I was sustained, not by confidence of safety, and a belief
of exemption from this malady, or by the influence of habit,
which inures us to all that is detestable or perilous, but by a
belief that this was as eligible an avenue to death as any
other; and that life is a trivial sacrifice in the cause of duty.

I passed from one room to the other. A portmanteau,
marked with the initials of Wallace's name, at length,
attracted my notice. From this circumstance I inferred, that
this apartment had been occupied by him. The room was
neatly arranged, and appeared as if no one had lately used it.
There were trunks and drawers. That which I have mentioned,
was the only one that bore marks of Wallace's
ownership. This I lifted in my arms with a view to remove
it to Medlicote's house.

At that moment, methought I heard a foots-tep slowly and
lingeringly ascending the stair. I was disconcerted at this
incident. The foot-step had in it a ghost-like solemnity and
tardiness. This phantom vanished in a moment, and yielded
place to more humble conjectures. A human being approached,
whose office and commission were inscrutable. That we were
strangers to each other was easily imagined; but how would
my appearance, in this remote chamber, and loaded with
another's property, be interpreted? Did he enter the house
after me, or was he the tenant of some chamber hitherto
unvisited; whom my entrance had awakened from his trance
and called from his couch?

In the confusion of my mind, I still held my burthen
uplifted. To have placed it on the floor, and encountered
this visitant, without this equivocal token about me,
was the obvious proceeding. Indeed, time only could decide
whether these foot-steps tended to this, or to some other
apartment.

My doubts were quickly dispelled. The door opened, and a
figure glided in. The portmanteau dropped from my arms,
and my heart's-blood was chilled. If an apparition of the
dead were possible, and that possibility I could not deny,
this was such an apparition. A hue, yellowish and livid;
bones, uncovered with flesh; eyes, ghastly, hollow, woebegone,
and fixed in an agony of wonder upon me; and
locks, matted and negligent, constituted the image which
I now beheld. My belief of somewhat preternatural in this

appearance, was confirmed by recollection of resemblances
between these features and those of one who was dead. In
this shape and visage, shadowy and death-like as they were,
the lineaments of Wallace, of him who had misled my rustic
simplicity on my first visit to this city, and whose death
I had conceived to be incontestably ascertained, were forcibly
recognized.

This recognition, which at first alarmed my superstition,
speedily led to more rational inferences. Wallace had been
dragged to the hospital. Nothing was less to be suspected
than that he would return alive from that hideous receptacle,
but this was by no means impossible. The figure that stood
before me, had just risen from the bed of sickness, and from
the brink of the grave. The crisis of his malady had passed,
and he was once more entitled to be ranked among the
living.

This event, and the consequences which my imagination
connected with it, filled me with the liveliest joy. I thought
not of his ignorance of the causes of my satisfaction, of the
doubts to which the circumstances of our interview would
give birth, respecting the integrity of my purpose. I forgot
the artifices by which I had formerly been betrayed, and the
embarrassments which a meeting with the victim of his artifices
would excite in him; I thought only of the happiness
which his recovery would confer upon his uncle and his
cousins.

I advanced towards him with an air of congratulation, and
offered him my hand. He shrunk back, and exclaimed in a
feeble voice, Who are you? What business have you here?

I am the friend of Wallace, if he will allow me to be so.
I am a messenger from your uncle and cousins at Malverton
I came to know the cause of your silence, and to afford you
any assistance in my power.

He continued to regard me with an air of suspicion and
doubt. These I endeavoured to remove by explaining the
motives that led me hither. It was with difficulty that he

seemed to credit my representations. When thoroughly
convinced of the truth of my assertions, he inquired with
great anxiety and tenderness concerning his relations; and
expressed his hope that they were ignorant of what had
befallen him.

I could not encourage his hopes, I regretted my own
precipitation in adopting the belief of his death. This belief,
had been uttered with confidence, and without stating my
reasons for embracing it, to Mr. Hadwin. These tidings
would be borne to his daughters, and their grief would be
exasperated to a deplorable, and, perhaps, to a fatal degree.

There was but one method of repairing or eluding this mischief.
Intelligence ought to be conveyed to them of his recovery.
But where was the messenger to be found? No one's
attention could be found disengaged from his own concerns.
Those who were able or willing to leave the city had sufficient
motives for departure, in relation to themselves. If
vehicle or horse were procurable for money, ought it not to
be secured for the use of Wallace himself, whose health
required the easiest and speediest conveyance from this theatre
of death?

My companion was powerless in mind as in limbs. He
seemed unable to consult upon the means of escaping from
the inconveniences by which he was surrounded. As soon as
sufficient strength was regained, he had left the hospital. To
repair to Malverton was the measure which prudence obviously
dictated; but he was hopeless of effecting it. The city
was close at hand; this was his usual home; and hither
his tottering, and almost involuntary steps had conducted
him.

He listened to my representations and councils, and
acknowledged their propriety. He put himself under my
protection and guidance, and promised to conform implicitly
to my directions. His strength had sufficed to bring him thus
far, but was now utterly exhausted. The task of searching
for a carriage and horse devolved upon me.

In effecting this purpose, I was obliged to rely upon my
own ingenuity and diligence. Wallace, though so long a
resident in the city, knew not to whom I could apply, or by
whom carriages were let to hire. My own reflections taught
me, that this accommodation was most likely to be furnished
by innkeepers, or that some of those might at least inform
me of the best measures to be taken. I resolved to set out
immediately on this search. Meanwhile, Wallace was persuaded
to take refuge in Medlicote's apartments; and to
make, by the assistance of Austin, the necessary preparation
for his journey.

The morning had now advanced. The rays of a sultry sun
had a sickening and enfeebling influence, beyond any which I
had ever experienced. The drought of unusual duration had
bereft the air and the earth of every particle of moisture.
The element which I breathed appeared to have stagnated
into noxiousness and putrifaction. I was astonished at observing
the enormous diminution of my strength. My brows
were heavy, my intellects benumbed, my sinews enfeebled,
and my sensations universally unquiet.

These prognostics were easily interpreted. What I chiefly
dreaded was, that they would disable me from executing the
task which I had undertaken. I summoned up all my resolution,
and cherished a disdain of yielding to this ignoble destiny.
I reflected that the source of all energy, and even of
life, is seated in thought; that nothing is arduous to human
efforts; that the external frame will seldom languish, while
actuated by an unconquerable soul.

I fought against my dreary feelings, which pulled me to the
earth. I quickened my pace, raised my drooping eye-lids,
and hummed a cheerful and favourite air. For all that I
accomplished during this day, I believe myself indebted to the
strenuousness and ardour of my resolutions.

I went from one tavern to another. One was deserted; in
another the people were sick, and their attendents refused to
hearken to my inquiries or offers; at a third, their horses

were engaged. I was determined to prosecute my search as
long as an inn or a livery-stable remained unexamined, and
my strength would permit.

To detail the events of this expedition, the arguments and
supplications which I used to overcome the dictates of avarice
and fear, the fluctuation of my hopes and my incessant
disappointments, would be useless. Having exhausted all
my expedients ineffectually, I was compelled to turn my
weary steps once more to Medlicote's lodgings.

My meditations were deeply engaged by the present circumstances
of my situation. Since the means which were
first suggested, were impracticable, I endeavoured to investigate
others. Wallace's debility made it impossible for him
to perform this journey on foot: but would not his strength
and his resolution suffice to carry him beyond Schuylkill?
A carriage or horse, though not to be obtained in
the city, could, without difficulty, be procured, in the country.
Every farmer had beasts for burthen and draught.
One of these might be hired at no immoderate expense, for
half a day.

This project appeared so practicable and so specious, that
I deeply regretted the time and the efforts which had already
been so fruitlessly expended. If my project, however, had
been mischievous, to review it with regret, was only to prolong
and to multiply its mischiefs. I trusted that time and
strength would not be wanting to the execution of this new
design.

On entering Medlicote's house, my looks, which, in spite
of my languors, were sprightly and confident, flattered Wallace
with the belief that my exertions had succeeded. When
acquainted with their failure, he sunk as quickly into hopelessness.
My new expedient was heard by him with no
marks of satisfaction. It was impossible, he said, to move
from this spot by his own strength. All his powers were
exhausted by his walk from Bush-hill.

I endeavoured, by arguments and railleries, to revive his
courage. The pure air of the country would exhilirate him
into new life. He might stop at every fifty yards, and rest
upon the green sod. If overtaken by the night, we would
procure a lodging, by address and importunity; but if every
door should be shut against us, we should at least, enjoy the
shelter of some barn, and might diet wholsomely upon the
new-laid eggs that we should find there. The worst treatment
we could meet with, was better than continuance in
the city.

These remonstrances had some influence, and he at length
consented to put his ability to the test. First, however, it
was necessary to invigorate himself by a few hours rest. To
this, though with infinite reluctance, I consented.

This interval allowed him to reflect upon the past, and to
inquire into the fate of Thetford and his family. The intelligence,
which Medlicote had enabled me to afford him, was
heard with more satisfaction than regret. The ingratitude
and cruelty with which he had been treated, seemed to have
extinguished every sentiment, but hatred and vengence. I
was willing to profit by this interval to know more of Thetford,
than I already possessed. I inquired why Wallace,
had so perversely neglected the advice of his uncle and cousin,
and persisted to brave so many dangers when flight was so
easy.

I cannot justify my conduct, answered he. It was in
the highest degree, thoughtless and perverse. I was confident
and unconcerned as long as our neighbourhood was
free from disease, and as long as I forbore any communication
with the sick; yet I should have withdrawn to Malverton,
merely to gratify my friends, if Thetford had not used
the most powerful arguments to detain me. He laboured to
extenuate the danger.

Why not stay, said he, as long as I and my family stay?
Do you think that we would linger here, if the danger were
imminent. As soon as it becomes so, we will fly. You

know that we have a country-house prepared for our reception.
When we go, you shall accompany us. Your services
at this time are indispensable to my affairs. If you will not
desert me, your salary next year shall be double; and that
will enable you to marry your cousin immediately. Nothing
is more improbable than that any of us should be sick,
but if this should happen to you, I plight my honour that
you shall be carefully and faithfully attended.

These assurances were solemn and generous. To make
Susan Hadwin my wife, was the scope of all my wishes and
labours. By staying I should hasten this desirable event,
and incur little hazard. By going, I should alienate the
affections of Thetford; by whom, it is but justice to acknowledge,
that I had hitherto been treated with unexampled
generosity and kindness; and blast all the schemes I had
formed for rising into wealth.

My resolution was by no means stedfast. As often as a
letter from Malverton arrived, I felt myself disposed to hasten
away, but this inclination was combated by new arguments
and new intreaties of Thetford.

In this state of suspense, the girl by whom Mrs. Thetford's
infant was nursed, fell sick. She was an excellent creature,
and merited better treatment than she received. Like me,
she resisted the persuasions of her friends, but her motives
for remaining were disinterested and heroic.

No sooner did her indisposition appear, than she was hurried
to the hospital. I saw that no reliance could be placed
upon the assurances of Thetford. Every consideration gave
way to his fear of death. After the girl's departure, though
he knew that she was led by his means to execution,—yet
he consoled himself with repeating and believing her assertions,
that her disease was not the fever.

I was now greatly alarmed for my own safety. I was
determined to encounter his anger and repel his persuasions;
and to depart with the market-man, next morning. That
night, however, I was seized with a violent fever. I knew

in what manner patients were treated at the hospital, and
removal thither was to the last degree abhorred.

The morning arrived, and my situation was discovered.
At the first intimation, Thetford rushed out of the house, and
refused to re-enter it till I was removed. I knew not my fate,
till three ruffians made their appearance at my bed-side, and
communicated their commission.

I called on the name of Thetford and his wife. I intreated
a moment's delay, till I had seen these persons, and endeavoured
to procure a respite from my sentence. They were deaf
to my intreaties, and prepared to execute their office by force.
I was delirious with rage and with terror. I beaped the bitterest
execrations on my murderer; and by turns, invoked
the compassion, and poured a torrent of reproaches on, the
wretches whom he had selected for his ministers. My struggles
and outcries were vain.

I have no perfect recollection of what paffed till my arrival
at the hospital. My passions, combined with my disease,
to make me frantic and wild. In a state like mine, the
slightest motion could not be indured without agony. What
then must I have felt, scorched and dazled by the sun, sastained
by hard boards, and borne for miles over a rugged
pavement?

I cannot make you comprehend the anguish of my feelings.
To be disjointed and torn piece-meal by the rack, was a torment
inexpressibly inferior to this. Nothing excites my
wonder, but that I did not expire before the cart had
moved three paces.

I knew not how, or by whom I was moved from this vehicle.
Insensibility came at length to my relief. After a
time I opened my eyes, and slowly gained some knowledge
of my situation. I lay upon a mattress, whose condition
proved that an half-decayed corpse had recently been dragged
from it. The room was large, but it was covered with
beds like my own. Between each, there was scarcely the

interval of three feet. Each sustained a wretch, whose groans
and distortions, bespoke the desperateness of his condition.

The atmosphere was loaded by mortal stenches. A vapour,
suffocating and malignant, scarcely allowed me to breathe. No
suitable receptacle was provided for the evacuations produced
by medicine or disease. My nearest neighbour was struggling
with death, and my bed, casually extended, was
moist with the detestable matter which had flowed from his
stomach.

You will scarcely believe that, in this scene of horrors,
the sound of laughter should be overheard. While the upper
rooms of this building, are filled with the sick and the dying,
the lower apartments are the scene of carrousals and mirth.
The wretches who are hired, at enormous wages, to tend
the sick and convey away the dead, neglect their duty and
consume the cordials, which are provided for the patients,
in debauchery and riot.

A female visage, bloated with malignity and drunkenness,
occasionally looked in. Dying eyes were cast upon her,
invoking the boon, perhaps, of a drop of cold water, or her
assistance to change a posture which compelled him to behold
the ghastly writhings or deathful smile of his neighbour.

The visitant had left the banquet for a moment, only to
see who was dead. If she entered the room, blinking eyes
and reeling steps, shewed her to be totally unqualified for
ministering the aid that was needed. Presently, she disappeared
and others ascended the stair-case, a coffin was deposited
at the door, the wretch, whose heart still quivered,
was seized by rude hands, and dragged along the floor into
the passage.

O! how poor are the conceptions which are formed, by
the fortunate few, of the sufferings to which millions of their
fellow beings are condemned. This misery was more frightful,
because it was seen to flow from the depravity of the
attendents. My own eyes only would make me credit the
existance of wickedness so enormous. No wonder that to

die in garrets and cellars and stables unvisited and unknows,
had, by so many, been preferred to being brought hither.

A physician cast an eye upon my state. He gave some
directions to the person who attended him. I did not comprehend
them, they were never executed by the nurses, and
if the attempt had been made, I should probably have refused
to rceive what was offered. Recovery was equally beyond
my expectations and my wishes. The scene which was
hourly displayed before me, the entrance of the sick, most
of whom perished in a few hours, and their departure to the
graves prepared for them, reminded me of the fate to which
I, also, was reserved.

Three days passed away, in which every hour was expected
to be the last. That, amidst an atmosphere so contagious
and deadly, amidst causes of distruction hourly accumulating,
I should yet survive, appears to me nothing less than miraculous.
That of so many conducted to this house, the only
one who passed out of it alive, should be myself, almost surpasses
my belief.

Some inexplicable principle rendered harmless those potent
enemies of human life. My fever subsided and vanished.
My strength was revived, and the first use that I made of
my limbs, was to bear me far from the contemplation and
sufferance of those evils.