Chapter iv.
An unforeseen circumstance greatly increased the sentiment of respectwhich the Count d'Erfeuil experienced already, almost without knowingit, for his travelling companion. The health of Lord Nelville hadobliged him to stop some days at Ancona. The mountains and the searender the situation of this city very fine, and the crowd of Greeks whowork in front of their shops seated in the oriental manner, thediversity of costume of the inhabitants of the Levant, whom one meets inthe streets, give it an original and interesting appearance. The art ofcivilization has a continual tendency to render all men alike inappearance and almost in reality; but the mind and the imagination takepleasure in the characteristic differences of nations: it is only byaffectation and by calculation that men resemble each other; all that isnatural is varied. The eyes then, at least, derive some little pleasurefrom diversity of costume; it seems to promise a new manner of feelingand of judging.
The Greek, the Catholic, and the Jewish worships exist simultaneouslyand peaceably in the city of Ancona. The ceremonies of these severalreligions differ widely from each other; but in those various forms ofworship, the same sentiment lifts the soul to heaven--the same cry ofgrief, the same need of support.
The catholic church is on the top of a mountain, which dominates thesea: the roaring of the waves is often mingled with the song of thepriests. The interior of the church is overladen with a crowd of rathertawdry ornaments; but if one stop beneath the portico of the temple, thesoul is filled with the purest sentiments of religion, heightened bythat sublime spectacle the sea, on whose bosom man has never been ableto imprint the smallest trace. The earth is tilled by him, the mountainsare cut through by his roads, and rivers shut up into canals totransport his merchandise; but if the waves are furrowed for a moment byhis vessels the billows immediately efface this slight mark ofservitude, and the sea appears again as it was the first day of thecreation.
Lord Nelville had fixed his departure for Rome for the morrow, when heheard, during the night the most dreadful cries in the city. He hastilyquitted the inn in order to learn the cause, when he beheld a terriblefire, which proceeded from the port, and climbed from house to houseeven to the very top of the city. The flames were mirrored at a distancein the sea; the wind, which increased their fierceness, also disturbedtheir image in the surging waves, which reflected in a thousand ways thelurid traits of the conflagration.
The inhabitants of Ancona[2], not having among them pumps in goodcondition, were obliged to carry water to extinguish the flames, whichthey did with great eagerness. Amidst the din of different cries washeard the clank of chains, from the galley slaves, who were employed insaving that city which served them for a prison. The different nationsof the Levant, which commerce draws to Ancona, expressed their fear bythe stupor which appeared in their looks. The merchants, on beholdingtheir warehouses in flames, entirely lost their presence of mind. Alarmfor the loss of fortune affects the common order of men as much as thefear of death, and does not inspire that energy of the soul, thatenthusiasm which brings resources to our aid.
The cries of sailors have always something doleful and prolonged inthem, and were now rendered still more so by terror. The mariners on theshores of the Adriatic are clad in a red and brown hooded cloak of mostsingular appearance, and from the midst of this vestment emerged theanimated countenances of the Italians, painting fear in a thousandshapes. The inhabitants, throwing themselves down in the streets,covered their heads with their cloaks, as if nothing remained for themnow to do but to avoid seeing their disaster; others precipitatedthemselves into those flames from which they entertained no hope ofescaping. A thoughtless fury and a blind resignation appeared by turns;but nowhere was seen that cool deliberation which redoubles ourresources and our strength.
Oswald recollected that there were two English vessels in the harbourwhich had on board pumps of the best construction: he ran to thecaptain, who accompanied him in a boat to bring away these pumps. Theinhabitants, seeing them enter the boat, exclaimed, "_Ah! strangers youdo well to quit our unhappy city_!" "We shall come back again," saidOswald. They did not believe him. He returned however, fixed one of thepumps opposite the first house on fire, near the port, and the otherfacing that which was burning in the middle of the street. The Countd'Erfeuil exposed his life with carelessness, courage, and gaiety; theEnglish sailors, and the domestics of Lord Nelville, all came to hisaid; for the inhabitants of Ancona remained motionless, hardlycomprehending what these strangers were about, and not expecting theleast success from them.
The bells rang in every quarter, the priests made processions, the womenlamented and prostrated themselves before the images of the saints atthe corners of the streets; but no one thought of those natural meanswhich God has given to man for his defence. However, when theinhabitants perceived the happy effect of Oswald's activity; when theysaw that the flames were being extinguished, and that their houses wouldbe saved, they passed from astonishment to enthusiasm; they throngedabout Lord Nelville, and kissed his hands with such lively eagernessthat he was obliged to appear angry in order to drive away from him allwho might obstruct the rapid succession of orders, and of effortsnecessary to save the city. Every body was arranged under his command;for, in the least as well as in the greatest circumstances, when dangerpresents itself courage assumes its proper station; as soon as men arepossessed with fear they cease to be jealous of one another.
Oswald, however, amid the general din, distinguished some cries morehorrible than the rest, which resounded from the other extremity of thecity. He demanded whence these cries proceeded, and was informed thatthey came from the quarter which was allotted for the Jews: the officerof the police was accustomed to shut the gates of this quarter in theevening, and, the fire having reached that part of the city, the Jewshad no means of escape.
Oswald shuddered at this idea, and demanded that the gate should beimmediately opened; but some women of the people who heard him threwthemselves at his feet, entreating him to desist.--"_You see verywell_," said they, "_our good angel! that it is certainly on account ofthese Jews who reside here that we have suffered this fire, it is theywho bring calamity upon us, and if you set them at liberty all the waterin the sea will not extinguish the flames_." And they besought Oswald tolet the Jews be burnt with as much eloquence and tenderness as if theywere soliciting an act of clemency. This was not the effect of naturalcruelty, but of a superstitious imagination acutely impressed by a greatmisfortune; however, Oswald could hardly contain his indignation onhearing these strange entreaties.
He sent four English sailors with hatchets to break open the gates whichinclosed these unfortunate people, who spread themselves in an instantthrough the city, running to their merchandise with that greed ofpossession which has something very melancholy in it, when it inducesmortals to risk their lives for worldly wealth. One would say that inthe present state of society the simple blessing of life is esteemed byman of little value.
There now remained but one house at the top of the city, which theflames surrounded in such a manner that it was impossible to extinguishthem, and more impossible to enter it. The inhabitants of Ancona hadmanifested so little concern for this house, that the English sailors,not believing it to be inhabited, had dragged their pumps towards theharbour. Oswald himself, stunned by the cries of those who surroundedhim and solicited his aid, had not paid attention to it. The fire hadextended the latest to that quarter, but had made considerable progressthere. Lord Nelville demanded so impatiently what house that was, thatat length a man informed him it was the madhouse. At this idea his wholesoul was agitated; he turned, but found none of the sailors around him;the Count d'Erfeuil was not there either, and he would vainly haveaddressed himself to the inhabitants of Ancona: they were almost alloccupied in saving their merchandise, and considered it absurd to runany risk to rescue men, of whom there was not one who was not incurablymad: "_It is a blessing from Heaven_," said they, "_for them, and fortheir relations, that they should die in this manner; without any onein
curring a crime by their death_."
Whilst they held such language as this around Oswald, he proceeded withthe utmost speed towards the madhouse, and the crowd, by whom he wascensured, followed him with a confused sentiment of involuntaryenthusiasm. As Oswald approached the house, he saw, at the only windowwhich was not surrounded with flames, a number of lunatics, who regardedthe progress of the fire with that horrid kind of smile which eithersupposes ignorance of all the ills of life, or so much grief at thebottom of the soul that death in no shape can terrify it. Aninexpressible shudder seized upon Oswald at this sight; he had felt inthe most dreadful moment of his despair, that his reason was on thepoint of being affected, and since that epoch, the aspect of madnessalways inspired him with the most sorrowful emotions of pity. He seizeda ladder which he found near the spot, fixed it against the wall, andentered by the window into an apartment where the unhappy people whoremained in the madhouse were assembled together.
Their insanity was so harmless, that they were suffered to be at largein the interior of the house with the exception of one, who was chainedin this very room, where the flames already began to appear through thedoor, but had not yet consumed the floor. These miserable creatures,quite degraded by disease and suffering, were so surprised and enchantedby the appearance of Oswald among them, that they obeyed him at firstwithout resistance. He ordered them to descend before him, one afteranother, by means of the ladder, which the flames might devour in amoment. The first of these wretched people obeyed without uttering aword; the accent and the physiognomy of Lord Nelville had entirelysubdued him. A third wished to resist, without suspecting the dangerthat he incurred by each moment of delay, and without thinking of theperil to which he exposed Oswald in detaining him. The people, who feltall the horrors of his situation, cried out to Lord Nelville to return,and to let those maniacs get away how they could. But the delivererwould listen to nothing till he had achieved his generous enterprise.
Of the six lunatics who were in the madhouse, five were already saved;there now only remained the sixth who was chained. Oswald loosened hisirons, and endeavoured to make him take the same means of escaping ashis companions had done; but it was a poor young man, whose reason wasentirely destroyed, and, finding himself at liberty, after being chainedfor two years, he darted about the room with an extravagant joy. Thisjoy rose to fury, when Oswald tried to make him go out at the window.Lord Nelville perceiving that it was impossible to prevail upon thismaniac to save himself, though the flames increased around them, seizedhim in his arms, in spite of the efforts of the unhappy wretch, whostruggled against his benefactor. He carried him off, without knowingwhere he placed his feet, so much was his sight obscured by the smoke;he leaped from nearly the middle of the ladder, and consigned thelunatic, who loaded him with curses, to some people whom he made promiseto take care of him.
Oswald, animated by the danger he had just run, his hair dishevelled,his look so proud yet so mild, struck the crowd who beheld him withadmiration, and almost with fanaticism; the women, above all, expressedthemselves with that imagination which is an almost universal gift inItaly, and even gives a nobleness to the conversation of the commonpeople. They threw themselves on their knees before him, and cried,"_You are surely St Michael, the patron of our city; display thy wingsmost holy saint! but do not quit us: deign to ascend the steeple of thecathedral, that all the city may behold, and pray to thee_." "_My childis sick_," said one, "_heal him_." "_Tell me_," said another, "_where myhusband is, who has been absent several years_?" Oswald sought a meansof escape. The Count d'Erfeuil arrived, and said to him, pressing hishand, "My dear Nelville, we ought to share all things with our friends;it is unkind of you thus to monopolise all the danger." "Release me fromthese people," said Oswald to him, in a low voice. A moment of darknessfavoured their flight, and both of them went in haste to get posthorses.
Lord Nelville experienced, at first, some pleasure from the good actionhe had just performed, but with whom could he enjoy it now that his bestfriend was no more? How unhappy is the lot of orphans! The mostfortunate events, as well as the most painful, make them feel alike thesolitude of the heart. How is it possible, in effect, ever to replacethat affection which is born with us, that intelligence, that sympathyof blood, that friendship prepared by heaven between the child and thefather? We may still, it is true, find an object of love; but one inwhom we can confide our whole soul is a happiness which can never befound again.
FOOTNOTE:
[2] Ancona is now pretty nearly in the same predicament that it wasthen.