Adrian’s chief endeavour, after the immediate succour of the sick, had been to disguise the symptoms and progress of the plague from the inhabitants of London.  He knew that fear and melancholy forebodings were powerful assistants to disease; that desponding and brooding care rendered the physical nature of man peculiarly susceptible of infection.  No unseemly sights were therefore discernible:  the shops were in general open, the concourse of passengers in some degree kept up.  But although the appearance of an infected town was avoided, to me, who had not beheld it since the commencement of the visitation, London appeared sufficiently changed.  There were no carriages, and grass had sprung high in the streets; the houses had a desolate look; most of the shutters were closed; and there was a ghast and frightened stare in the persons I met, very different from the usual business-like demeanour of the Londoners.  My solitary carriage attracted notice, as it rattled along towards the Protectoral Palace—­and the fashionable streets leading to it wore a still more dreary and deserted appearance.  I found Adrian’s anti-chamber crowded—­it was his hour for giving audience.  I was unwilling to disturb his labours, and waited, watching the ingress and egress of the petitioners.  They consisted of people of the middling and lower classes of society, whose means of subsistence failed with the cessation of trade, and of the busy spirit of money-making in all its branches, peculiar to our country.  There was an air of anxiety, sometimes of terror in the new-comers, strongly contrasted with the resigned and even satisfied mien of those who had had audience.  I could read the influence of my friend in their quickened motions and cheerful faces.  Two o’clock struck, after which none were admitted; those who had been disappointed went sullenly or sorrowfully away, while I entered the audience-chamber.

I was struck by the improvement that appeared in the health of Adrian.  He was no longer bent to the ground, like an over-nursed flower of spring, that, shooting up beyond its strength, is weighed down even by its own coronal of blossoms.  His eyes were bright, his countenance composed, an air of concentrated energy was diffused over his whole person, much unlike its former languor.  He sat at a table with several secretaries, who were arranging petitions, or registering the notes made during that day’s audience.  Two or three petitioners were still in attendance.  I admired his justice and patience.  Those who possessed a power of living out of London, he advised immediately to quit it, affording them the means of so doing.  Others, whose trade was beneficial to the city, or who possessed no other refuge, he provided with advice for better avoiding the epidemic; relieving overloaded families, supplying the gaps made in others by death.  Order, comfort, and even health, rose under his influence, as from the touch of a magician’s wand.