he Jews be burnt with as much eloquence and tenderness as if they
were soliciting an act of clemency. This was not the effect of natural
cruelty, but of a superstitious imagination acutely impressed by a great
misfortune; however, Oswald could hardly contain his indignation on
hearing these strange entreaties.

He sent four English sailors with hatchets to break open the gates which
inclosed these unfortunate people, who spread themselves in an instant
through the city, running to their merchandise with that greed of
possession which has something very melancholy in it, when it induces
mortals to risk their lives for worldly wealth. One would say that in
the present state of society the simple blessing of life is esteemed by
man of little value.

There now remained but one house at the top of the city, which the
flames surrounded in such a manner that it was impossible to extinguish
them, and more impossible to enter it. The inhabitants of Ancona had
manifested so little concern for this house, that the English sailors,
not believing it to be inhabited, had dragged their pumps towards the
harbour. Oswald himself, stunned by the cries of those who surrounded
him and solicited his aid, had not paid attention to it. The fire had
extended the latest to that quarter, but had made considerable progress
there. Lord Nelville demanded so impatiently what house that was, that
at length a man informed him it was the madhouse. At this idea his whole
soul was agitated; he turned, but found none of the sailors around him;
the Count d'Erfeuil was not there either, and he would vainly have
addressed himself to the inhabitants of Ancona: they were almost all
occupied in saving their merchandise, and considered it absurd to run
any risk to rescue men, of whom there was not one who was not incurably
mad: "_It is a blessing from Heaven_," said they, "_for them, and for
their relations, that they should die in this manner; without any one
incurring a crime by their death_."

Whilst they held such language as this around Oswald, he proceeded with
the utmost speed towards the madhouse, and the crowd, by whom he was
censured, followed him with a confused sentiment of involuntary
enthusiasm. As Oswald approached the house, he saw, at the only window
which was not surrounded with flames, a number of lunatics, who regarded
the progress of the fire with that horrid kind of smile which either
supposes ignorance of all the ills of life, or so much