no horse or man was able to tread on them," and the east wind all the time still driving the flames impetuously forward. "But," writes the reverend gentleman before mentioned, "the great fury of the fire was in the broader streets; in the midst of the night it was come down to Cornhill, and laid it in the dust, and runs along by the Stocks, and there meets with another fire, which came down Threadneedle Street; a little further with another, which came up from Walbrook; a little further with another, which came up from Bucklersbury: and all these four, joining together, break into one great flame at the corner of Cheapside, with such a dazzling light and burning heat, and roaring noise by the fall of so many houses together, that was very amazing." By Tuesday, the 5th, the fire had reached the end of Fetter Lane in Holborn, and the entrance of Smithfield. But now the wind somewhat abated, and the spirits of the people rose in a still greater proportion. Instead of pulling down houses by" engines," as they had before done, gunpowder was used, which soon produced gaps too wide to be overleaped by the fire; a measure that, according to Evelyn, "some stout seamen proposed early enough to have saved near the whole city; but this some tenacious and avaricious men, aldermen, &c., would not permit, because their houses must have been of the first." About noon the fury of the flames began sensibly to abate in most parts, although they burned as fiercely as ever towards Cripplegate and the Tower. But the fire was gradually checked here also by the same means. On the 6th Pepys was once more waked by "new cries of fire," a species of alarm that continued for some days to distract the attention of the miserable population when the great conflagration was dying away among the ruins it had made. He was, however, able to walk through some of the principal streets; and on the 7th his fellow diarist took a still longer and more careful survey. The description of the scene which met his eye appears to us one of the most painfully interesting pictures of desolation we ever read. "I went this morning on foot from Whitehall as far as London Bridge, through the late Fleet Street, Ludgate Hill, by St. Paul's, Cheapside, Exchange, Bishopsgate, Aldersgate, and out to Moorfields, thence through Cornhill, &c., with extraordinary difficulty, clambering over heaps of yet smoking rubbish, and frequently mistaking where I was. The ground under my feet so hot that it even burnt the soles of my shoes. At my return I was infinitely concerned to find that goodly church, St. Paul's, now a sad ruin, and that beautiful portico (for structure comparable to any in Europe, as not long before repaired by the late King) now rent in pieces, flakes of vast stone split asunder, and nothing remaining entire but the inscription in the architrave, showing by whom it was built, which had not one letter of it defaced. It was astonishing to see what immense stones the heat had in a manner calcined, so that all the ornaments, columns, friezes, capitals, and projectures of massy Portland stone flew off, even to the very roof, where a sheet of lead covering a great space (no less than six acres by measure) was totally melted; the ruins of the vaulted roof falling broke into St. Faith's, which being filled with the magazines of books belonging to the stationers, and carried thither for safety, they were all consumed, burning for a week following. There lay in ashes that most venerable church, one of the most ancient pieces of early piety in the Christian world, besides near 100 more; the lead, iron-work, bells, plate, &c., melted; the exquisitely wrought Mercers' Chapel, the sumptuous Exchange, the august fabric of Christ Church, all the rest of the Companies' Halls, splendid buildings, arches, entries, all in dust; the fountains dried up and ruined, whilst the very water remained boiling; subterranean cellars, wells, and dungeons, formerly warehouses, still burning in stench and dark clouds of smoke, so that in five or six miles traversing about I did not see one load of timber unconsumed, nor many stones but what were calcined white as snow. The people who now walked about the ruins appeared like men in some dismal desert, or rather in some great city wasted by a cruel enemy; to which was added the stench that came from some poor creatures' bodies, beds, and other combustible goods. Sir Thomas Gresham's statue, though fallen from its niche in the Royal Exchange, remained entire when all those of the Kings since the Conquest were broken to pieces; also the Standard in Cornhill and Queen Elizabeth's effigies, with some arms on Ludgate, continued with but little detriment, whilst the vast iron chains of the city streets, hinges, bars, and gates of prisons were many of them melted and reduced to cinders by the vehement heat. Nor was I yet able to pass through any of the narrower streets, but kept the widest: the ground and air, smoke, and fiery vapour continued so intense that my hair was almost singed, and my feet unsufferably surbated.* The by lanes and narrower streets were quite filled up with rubbish, nor could any one have possibly known where he was but by the ruins of some church or hall that had some remarkable tower or pinnacle remaining. I then went towards Islington and Highgate, where one might have seen two hundred thousand people of all ranks and degrees dispersed and lying along by their heaps of what they could save from the fire, deploring their loss, and, though ready to perish for hunger and destitution, yet not asking one penny for relief, which to me appeared a stranger sight than any I had yet beheld. His Majesty and council, indeed, took all imaginable care for their relief by proclamation for the country to come in and refresh them with provisions. In the midst of all this calamity and confusion there was, I know not how, Surbated--battered, bruised, sore. an alarm begun that the French and Dutch, with whom we were in hostility, were not only landed, but even entering the city. There was in truth some days before great suspicion of those two nations joining, and now that they had been the occasion of firing the town. This report did so terrify, that on a sudden there was such an uproar and tumult that they ran from their goods, and, taking what weapons they could come at, they could not be stopped from falling on some of those nations whom they casually met, without sense or reason. The clamour and peril grew so excessive that it made the whole court amazed, and they did with infinite pains and great difficulty reduce and appease the people, sending troops of soldiers and guards to cause them to retire into the fields again, where they were watched all this night. I left them pretty quiet, and came home sufficiently weary and broken." From the inscription on the north side of the Monument it appears that the total amount of destruction was "eighty-nine churches, the City gates, Guildhall, many public structures, hospitals, schools, libraries, a vast number of stately edifices, thirteen thousand two hundred dwelling-houses, four hundred streets; of twenty-six wards it utterly destroyed fifteen, and left eight others shattered and half burnt. The ruins of the City were four hundred and thirty-six acres from the Tower by the Thames side to the Temple Church, and from the north-east gate along the City Wall to Holborn Bridge. To the estates and fortunes of the citizens it was merciless, but to their lives very favourable (only eight being lost), that it might in all things resemble the last conflagration of the world."* The limits of the fire may be thus traced :-Temple Church, Holborn Bridge, Pye Corner, Smithfield, Aldersgate, Cripplegate, near the end of Coleman Street, at the end of Basinghall Street by the Postern, at the upper end of Bishopsgate Street, in Leadenhall Street, by the Standard in Cornhill, at the Church in Fenchurch Street, by the Clothworkers' Hall, at the middle of Mark Lane, and at the Tower Dock. The part of the City left standing within the walls contained eleven parishes, occupying an area of seventy-five acres. And this was all that the Great Fire had left of London! A table of estimates of the loss is given in Maitland's History,' which amounts to nearly eleven millions. We have seen from the preceding extracts that the King and his brother exerted themselves greatly in endeavouring to check the progress of the fire, to preserve as far as possible something like order in the midst of so much inevitable confusion, and to ameliorate the unhappy condition of the inhabitants thus suddenly deprived of their homes, and dispersed through the open country, "several miles in circle, some under tents, some under miserable huts and hovels; many without a rag or any necessary utensils, bed or board; who, from delicateness, riches, and every accommodation in stately and well-furnished houses, were now reduced to extremest poverty and misery."† In a manuscript from the secretary's office, quoted by Dr. Echard in his History of England,' we have a picture of the "merry monarch" which places him in a very favourable light." All own the immediate hand of God, and bless the goodness of the King, who made the round of the fire usually twice every day, and for many hours together, on horseback and on foot, gave orders for pursuing the work by threatenings, desires, example, and good store of money, which he himself distributed to the workers out of a hundred-pound bag, which he carried with him * From the translation of the Latin inscription given in Maitland. † Evelyn. for that purpose." Conduct like this was calculated to attract the popular favour, as it deserved; and the poets were not slow in commemorating it in verse sufficiently panegyrical, whatever other defects it might exhibit. Here is one specimen from The Conflagration of London Poetically Delineated, by Sir J. L., Knight and Baronet, 1667,' which must make the most serious smile, in spite of the awful nature of the subject: "Here Cæsar comes, with buckets in his eyes, And father in his heart. Come, come, he cries, We return to more serious matters. The origin of so awful a calamity was of course the very first object that engaged the attention of the King and the Parliament after the lapse of the first few anxious days. A Committee was appointed on the 25th of the same month. The report was made on the 22d of January following, by Sir Richard Brook, chairman, who stated that they had received "many considerable informations from divers credible persons about the matter," which they now laid before the House. The first evidence was "a letter from Alanson," of the 23rd of August, 1666, New Style, written from one Dural to a gentleman lodging in the house of one of the ministers of the French Crown in London, called Monsieur Herault: these were the expressions "They acquaint me with the truth of certain news which is common in this country, that a fire from Heaven is fallen upon a city called Belke, situated on the side of the river of Thames, where a world of people have been killed and burnt, and houses also consumed: which seemed a word of cabal, cast out by some that were knowing, and others that might be ignorant of the signification of it." Mrs. Elizabeth Styles informed the Committee that a French servant of Sir Vere Fan had said to her in April last," You English maids will like the Frenchmen better when there is not a house left between Temple Bar and London Bridge;" and, on her answering, "I hope your eyes will never see that," he replied, "This will come to pass between June and October." William Tinsdale heard one Fitz-Harris, an Irish Papist, say, about the beginning of July," there would be a sad desolation in September, in November a worse; in December all would be united into one." Two other witnesses reported conversations of a very similar nature," Papists" in each case being the prophets. This was one line of evidence. The next, could it be depended on, was very much more to the purpose. This was the confession of "Robert Hubert, of Rouen in Normandy, who acknowledged that he was one of those that fired the house of Mr. Farryner, a baker, in Pudding Lane," at the instigation of one Stephen Piedloe, who came out of France with him, by putting a fire-ball at the end of a long pole, and lighting it with a piece of match which he put in at a window. He had also, he said, "Three-and-twenty complices, whereof Piedloe was the chief." Mr. Graves, a French merchant, living in St. Mary Axe, declared he knew Hubert to be "fit for any villanous enterprise," and that, having visited him in gaol, the latter had confessed himself guilty, remarking he had not done it "out of any malice to the English nation, but from a desire of reward," which Piedloe had promised him on his return to France. "It is observable," remarks the report, "that this miserable creature, who confessed himself before the Committee to be a Protestant, was a Papist and died so." The well-informed Mr. Graves was also acquainted with Piedloe, who was "a very deboist (debauched) person, and apt to any wicked design." The baker, Farryner, being examined, said it was impossible any fire could happen in his house by accident; for he had, as before mentioned, after twelve of the clock that night, gone through every room thereof, and found no fire but in one chimney, where the room was paved with bricks, which fire he diligently raked up in embers. Lastly, Hubert was sent under guard to "see if he could find out the place where he threw the fireball," which he did with perfect accuracy. The third species of evidence related to the fireballs and other combustible matter said to be thrown into various houses during the days: Daniel Weymanset, Esq., "saw a man apprehended near the Temple, with his pockets stuffed with combustible matter." Dr. John Parker saw some "combustible matter" thrown into a shop in the Old Bailey; "thereupon he saw a great smoke and smelt a smell of brimstone." Three witnesses all agreed that they saw a person flinging something into a house near St. Antholine's church, and that thereupon the house was on fire .... and when this was done there was no fire near the place. Testimony of a somewhat similar nature was offered by other persons. Lastly, Mr. Freeman, of Southwark, brewer, found in his house, which had been lately burnt, about a quarter of an hour before that happened, a paper with a ball of wild-fire in the nave of a wheel; and Mr. Richard Harwood, being near the Feathers tavern, by St. Paul's, on the 4th of September, thing through a grate in a cellar, like wild-fire; by the sparkling and spitting of it he could judge it to be no other; whereupon he gave notice of it to some soldiers that were near the place, who caused it to be quenched." Thus far the first report. Additions were subsequently made of a similar, but certainly not more trustworthy, character. Then follows the report of the "Committee appointed to certify information touching the insolency of Popish priests and Jesuits, and the increase of Popery." The very heading of this last report shows the animus of the then Parliament; yet the Committee of that House, in making the report before mentioned, offer no decided opinion of their own. This is surely a significant fact. Hubert may have fired the house; there may have been wicked, mischievous, and discontented individuals who endeavoured to increase the horrors of the time in the modes described in the evidence; yet how much of this evidence might not be explained by the general excitement of mind in which all the witnesses must have participated, and by the important remark of Pepys already transcribed concerning the "shower of fire-drops," which he expressly says set fire to houses which the conflagration had not reached! But, at all events, that no large body of people, whether foreigners or Papists, were concerned in the affair, seems to us to be partly proved by the very absence of such a charge in the Committee's report; but still more by the facts that, first, it is impossible to discover how "Papists," the body chiefly suspected, could have been benefited by 66 saw some |