Now the citizens of London are put to a stop in the career of their

trade; they begin to fear whom they converse withal, and deal

withal, lest they should have come out of infected places. Now roses

and other sweet flowers wither in the gardens, are disregarded in

the markets, and people dare not offer them to their noses lest with

their sweet savour, that which is infectious should be attracted:

rue and wormwood are taken into the hand; myrrh and zedoary into the

mouth; and without some antidote few stir abroad in the morning. Now

many houses are shut up where the plague comes, and the inhabitants

shut in, lest coming abroad they should spread infection. It was

very dismal to behold the red crosses, and read in great letters,

LORD HAVE MERCY UPON US, on the doors, and watchmen standing before

them with halberts; and such a solitude about those places, and

people passing by them so gingerly, and with such fearful looks as

if they had been lined with enemies in ambush, that waited to

destroy them.

Now rich tradesmen provide themselves to depart; if they have not

country-houses they seek lodgings abroad for themselves and

families, and the poorer tradesmen, that they may imitate the rich

in their fear, stretch themselves to take a country journey, though

they have scarce wherewithal to bring them back again. The ministers

also (many of them) take occasion to go to their country-places for

the summer time; or (it may be) to find out some few of their

parishioners that were gone before them, leaving the greatest part

of their flock without food or physic, in the time of their greatest

need. (I don't speak of all ministers, those which did stay out of

choice and duty, deserve true honour.) Possibly they might think God

was now preaching to the city, and what need their preaching? or

rather did not the thunder of God's voice affrighten their guilty

consciences and make them fly away, lest a bolt from heaven should

fall upon them, and spoil their preaching for the future; and

therefore they would reserve themselves till the people had less

need of them. I do not blame any citizens retiring, when there was

so little trading, and the presence of all might have helped forward

the increase and spreading of the infection; but how did guilt drive

many away, where duty would have engaged them to stay in the place?

Now the highways are thronged with passengers and goods, and London

doth empty itself into the country; great are the stirs and hurries

in London by the removal of so many families; fear puts many

thousands on the wing, and those think themselves most safe, that

can fly furthest off from the city.

In August how dreadful is the increase: from 2010, the number

amounts up to 2817 in one week; and thence to 3880 the next; thence

to 4237 the next; thence to 6102 the next; and all these of the

plague, besides other diseases.

Now the cloud is very black, and the storm comes down upon us very

sharp. Now Death rides triumphantly on his pale horse through our

streets; and breaks into every house almost, where any inhabitants

are to be found. Now people fall as thick as leaves from the trees

in autumn, when they are shaken by a mighty wind. Now there is a

dismal solitude in London's streets, every day looks with the face

of a Sabbath day, observed with greater solemnity than it used to be

in the city. Now shops are shut in, people rare and very few that

walk about, insomuch that the grass begins to spring up in some

places, and a deep silence almost in every place, especially within

the walls; no rattling coaches, no prancing horses, no calling in

customers, nor offering wares; no London Cries sounding in the ears:

if any voice be heard, it is the groans of dying persons, breathing

forth their last: and the funeral knells of them that are ready to

be carried to their graves. Now shutting up of visited houses (there

being so many) is at an end, and most of the well are mingled among

the sick, which otherwise would have got no help. Now in some places

where the people did generally stay, not one house in a hundred but

is infected; and in many houses half the family is swept away; in

some the whole, from the eldest to the youngest; few escape with the

death of but one or two; never did so many husbands and wives die

together; never did so many parents carry their children with them

to the grave, and go together into the same house under earth, who

had lived together in the same house upon it. Now the nights are too

short to bury the dead; the long summer days are spent from morning

unto the twilight in conveying the vast number of dead bodies unto

the bed of their graves.

THE FIRE (1666).

By the terrible conflagration of 1666, the whole of the City was

destroyed, except a narrow circle round its boundaries. It is not at all

difficult to account for the outbreak: the closeness of the streets, the

wooden structure of the houses, the number of families occupying the

same house, the common use of wood for fuel—all these circumstances were

favourable to the origin and spread of the flames. But obvious as these

causes were, there was evidenced an enormous anxiety to fix the blame

upon some unpopular party, and wildly improbable and grossly exaggerated

accounts were given. The republican party were first charged with the

crime of setting fire to the City; then the Dutch were believed to be

the authors. In neither case was there any shadow of reasonable proof.

In the end it was fixed upon the Papists, on the strength of a single

confession of a mad Frenchman, who told a ridiculous and contradictory

story of a Roman Catholic conspiracy; only the extraordinary temper of

the times can explain the credulity with which this story in common with

many others concerning Roman Catholics was received. Although the

slander could not stand examination, it was inscribed on the Monument,

and remained there during the whole of the eighteenth century. (_See_

1681, Popish Panic.)

=Sources.=—(_a_) Pepys' _Diary_;

(_b_) _London Gazette_, September 8, 1666.

(_a_) _September 2, 1666._—Some of our mayds sitting up late last

night to get things ready against our feast to-day, Jane called us

up about three in the morning, to tell us of the great fire they saw

in the city. So I rose and slipped on my nightgowne, and went to her

window, and thought it to be on the back-side of Marke-lane at the

farthest; but, being unused to such fires as followed, I thought it

to be far enough off; and so went to bed again and to sleep. About

seven rose again to dress myself, and there looked out of the

window, and saw the fire not so much as it was and further off. So

to my closett to set things right after yesterday's cleaning. By and

by Jane comes and tells me that she hears that above 300 houses have

been burned down to night by the fire we saw, and that it is now

burning down all Fish-Street by London Bridge. So I made myself

ready presently, and walked to the Tower; ... and there I did see

the houses at the end of the bridge all on fire, and an infinite

great fire on this and the other side the end of the bridge; which,

among other people, did trouble me for poor little Michell and our

Sarah on the bridge. So down, with my heart full of trouble, to the

Lieutenant of the Tower, who tells me it begun this morning in the

King's baker's house in Pudding Lane, and that it hath burned St.

Magnus's Church and most part of Fish-Street already. So I down to

the waterside, and there got a boat and through bridge, and there

saw a lamentable fire. Poor Michell's house, as far as the Old Swan,

already burned that way, and the fire running further, that in a

very little time it got as far as the Steele-yard, while I was

there. Everybody endeavouring to remove their goods, and flinging

into the river or bringing them into lighters that lay off; poor

people staying in the houses as long as till the very fire touched

them, and then running into boats, or clambering from one pair of

stairs by the water side to another. And among other things, the

poor pigeons, I perceive, were loth to leave their houses, but

hovered about the windows and balconys till they burned their wings,

and fell down.

Having staid, and in an hour's time seen the fire rage every way,

and nobody, to my sight, endeavouring to quench it, but to remove

their goods, and leave all to the fire, and having seen it get as

far as Steele-yard; and the wind mighty high and driving it into the

City; and everything, after so long a drought, proving combustible,

even the very stones of the churches, and among other things, the

poor steeple by which pretty Mrs. ⸺ lives, and whereof my old

school-fellow Elborough is parson, taken fire in the very top, and

there burned till it fell down: to White Hall ... and there up to

the King's closett in the Chappell, where people come about me, and

I did give them an account that dismayed them all, and word was

carried in to the King. So I was called for, and did tell the King

and the Duke of York what I saw, and that unless his Majesty did

command houses to be pulled down nothing could stop the fire. They

seemed much troubled, and the King commanded me to go to my Lord

Mayor from him, and commanded him to spare no houses, but to pull

down before the fire every way. The Duke of York bid me tell him

that if he would have any more soldiers he shall; and so did my Lord

Arlington afterwards, as a great secret. Here meeting with Captain

Cocke, I in his coach, which he lent me, and Creed with me to

Paul's, and there walked along Watling-street as well as I could,

every creature coming away loaden with goods to save, and here and

there sicke people carried away in beds. Extraordinary good goods

carried in carts or on backs. At last met my Lord Major in

Canning-street, like a man spent, with a handkercher about his neck.

To the King's message he cried, like a fainting woman, "Lord, what

can I do? I am spent; people will not obey me. I have been pulling

down houses; but the fire overtakes us faster than we can do it."

That he needed no more soldiers; and that, for himself, he must go

and refresh himself, having been up all night. So he left me, and I

him, and walked home, seeing people all almost distracted, and no

manner of means used to quench the fire. The houses, too, so very

thick thereabouts, and full of matter for burning, as pitch and tar,

in Thames-street; and ware houses of oyle, and wines, and brandy,

and other things. Here I saw Mr. Isaake Houblon, the handsome man,

prettily dressed and dirty, at his door at Dow-gate, receiving some

of his brother's things, whose houses were on fire; and, as he says,

have been removed twice already; and he doubts (as it soon proved)

that they must be in a little time removed from his house also,

which was a sad consideration. And to see the churches all filling

with goods by people who themselves should have been quietly there

at this time. By this time it was about twelve o'clock; and so

home....

While at dinner Mrs. Batelier came to enquire after Mr Woolfe and

Stanes ... whose houses in Fish-Street are all burned, and they in a

sad condition. She would not stay in the fright. Soon as dined, I

and Moone away, and walked through the City, the streets full of but

people and horses and carts loaden with goods, ready to run over one

another, and removing goods from one burned house to another. They

now removing out of Canning-Street (which received goods in the

morning) into Lumbard-Street, and further; and among others I now

saw my little gold-smith, Stokes, receiving some friends goods,

whose house itself was burned the day after.

We parted at Paul's; he home, and I to Paul's Wharf, where I had

appointed a boat to attend me, and took in Mr. Carcasse and his

brother, whom I met in the streete, and carried them below and above

bridge to ... see the fire, which was now got further, both below

and above, and no likelihood of stopping it. Met with the King and

Duke of York in their barge, and with them to Queenhithe, and there

called Sir Richard Browne to them. Their order was only to pull down

houses apace, and so below bridge at the water side; but little was

or could be done, the fire coming upon them so fast. Good hopes

there were of stopping it at the Three Cranes above, and at

Buttolph's Wharf below bridge, if care be used; but the wind carries

it into the City, so as we know not by the water-side what it do

there. River full of lighters and boats taking in goods, and good

goods swimming in the water, and only I observed that hardly one

lighter or boat in three that had the goods of a house in, but there

was a pair of Virginalls in it.

Having seen as much as I could now, I away to Whitehall by

appointment and there walked to St. James's Parke, and there met my

wife and Creed and Wood and his wife and walked to my boat; and

there upon the water again, and to the fire up and down, it still

increasing, and the wind great. So near the fire as we could for

smoke; and all over the Thames, with one's face in the wind, you

were almost burned with a shower of fire-drops. This is very true;

so as houses were burned by these drops and flakes of fire, three or

four, nay, five or six houses, one from another. When we could

endure no more upon the water, we to a little ale-house on the

Bankside, over against the three Cranes, and there staid till it was

dark almost, and saw the fire grow; and, as it grew darker, appeared

more and more, and in corners and upon steeples, and between

churches and houses, as far as we could see up the hill of the City,

in a most horrid malicious bloody flame, not like the fine flame of

an ordinary fire.... We staid till, it being darkish, we saw the

fire as only one entire arch of fire from this to the other side of

the bridge, and in a bow up the hill for an arch of above a mile

long; it made me weep to see it. The church, houses, and all on fire

and flaming at once; and a horrid noise the flames made, and the

cracking of houses at their ruine. So home with a sad heart, and

there find everybody discursing and lamenting the fire: and poor Tom

Hater come with some few of his goods saved out of his house, which

is burned upon Fish-Street Hill. I invited him to lie at my house,

and receive his goods, but was deceived in his lying there; so as we

were forced to begin to pack up our owne goods, and prepare for

their removal; and did by moonshine (it being brave dry, and

moonshine, and warm weather) carry much of my goods into the garden,

and Mr. Hater and I did remove my money and iron chests into my

cellar, as thinking that the safest place. And got ready my bags of

gold into my office, ready to carry away, and my chief papers of

accounts also there, and my tallys into a box by themselves. So

great was our fear, as Sir W. Batten hath carts come out of the

country to fetch away his goods this night. We did put Mr. Hater,

poor man, to bed a little; but he got but very little rest, so much

noise being in my house, taking down of goods.

_September 3rd._—About four o'clock in the morning, my Lady Batten

sent me a cart to carry away all my money, and plate, and best

things, to Sir W. Rider's at Bednall Green, which I did riding

myself in my night-gowne in the cart; and, Lord! to see how the

streets and highways are crowded with people running and riding, and

getting of carts at any rate to fetch away things. I find Sir W.

Rider tired with being called up all night, and receiving things

from several friends. His house full of goods, and much of Sir W.

Batten's and Sir W. Penn's. I am eased at my heart to have my

treasure so well secured. Then home, with much ado to find a way,

nor any sleep at all this night to me nor my poor wife.

(_b_) On the second instant, at one of the clock of the morning,

there happened to break out, a sad and deplorable fire, in

Pudding-lane near Fish Street, which falling out at that hour of the

night, and in a quarter of the town so close built with wooden

pitched houses, spread itself so far before day, and with such

distraction to the inhabitants and neighbours, that care was not

taken for the timely preventing the further diffusion of it, by

pulling down houses, as ought to have been; so that this lamentable

fire in a short time became too big to be mastered by any engines or

working near it. It fell out most unhappily too, that a violent

easterly wind fomented, and kept it burning all that day, and the

night following, spreading itself up to Gracechurch Street, and

downwards from Cannon Street to the water-side, as far as the Three

Cranes in the Vintrey.

The people in all parts about it distracted by the vastness of it,

and their particular care to carry away their goods, many attempts

were made to prevent the spreading of it by pulling down houses, and

making great intervals, but all in vain, the fire seizing upon the

timber and rubbish and so continuing itself, even through those

spaces, and raging in a bright flame all Monday and Tuesday,

notwithstanding his majesties own, and his royal highness's

indefatigable and personal pains to apply all possible remedies to

prevent it, calling upon and helping the people with their guards,

and a great number of nobility and gentry unwearied assisting

therein, for which they were requited with a thousand blessings from

the poor distressed people. By the favour of God, the wind slackened

a little on Tuesday night and the flames meeting with brick

buildings at the Temple, by little and little it was observed to

lose its force on that side, so that on Wednesday morning we began

to hope well, and his royal highness never despairing or slackening

his personal care, wrought so well that day, assisted in some parts

by the lords of the council before and behind it, that a stop was

put to it at the Temple-Church, near Holborn-Bridge, Pie-corner,

Aldersgate, Cripplegate, near the lower end of Coleman-Street, at

the end of Basinghall Street, by the Postern, at the upper end of

Bishopsgate street, and Leadenhall-street, at the standard in

Cornhill, at the church in Fenchurch street, near Clothworkers-Hall

in Mincing Lane, at the middle of Mark-lane, and at the Tower-dock.

On Thursday by the blessing of God it was wholly beat down and

extinguished. But so as that evening it unhappily burst out again

afresh at the Temple, by the falling of some sparks (as is supposed)

upon a pile of wooden buildings; but his royal highness, who watched

there that whole night in person, by the great labours and diligence

used, and especially by applying powder to blow up the houses about

it, before day most happily mastered it.

Divers strangers, Dutch and French were, during the fire,

apprehended, upon suspicion that they contributed mischievously to

it, who are all imprisoned, and informations prepared to make a

severe inquisition thereupon by my lord chief justice Keeling,

assisted by some of the lords of the privy-council, and some

principal members of the city, notwithstanding which suspicions, the

manner of the burning all along in a train, and so blown forwards in

all its way by strong winds, makes us conclude the whole was an

effect of an unhappy chance, or to speak better, the heavy hand of

God upon us for our sins, shewing us the terror of his judgment in

thus raising the fire, and immediately after his miraculous and

never enough to be acknowledged mercy in putting a stop to it when

we were in the last despair, and that all attempts for the quenching

it however industriously pursued, seemed insufficient. His Majesty

then sat hourly in council, and ever since hath continued making

rounds about the city in all parts of it where the danger and

mischief was greatest, till this morning that he hath sent his grace

the duke of Albemarle, whom he hath called for to assist him in this

great occasion, to put his happy and successful hand to the

finishing this memorable deliverance.

A PROCLAMATION OF CHARLES II. (1666).

It seems clear from this proclamation that the King and his advisers not

only realised the faults and dangers of the recently destroyed City, but

entertained worthy and lofty ideals for its re-erection. Ingenious

schemes were not lacking, and only a strong and firm and enthusiastic

government was required to insure the building of a beautiful, safe, and

convenient city to replace the old picturesque, but dangerous,

unhealthy, and crowded buildings. However, royal favour and public

convenience could not prevail against "vested interests"; and most of

the pious hopes of Charles, and the plans of enlightened architects and

others, were not fulfilled.

Charles, R.—As no particular man hath sustained any loss or damage

by the late terrible and deplorable fire in his fortune or estate,

in any degree to be compared with the loss and damage we ourself

have sustained, so it is not possible for any man to take the same

more to heart, and to be more concerned and solicitous for the

rebuilding this famous city with as much expedition as is possible;

and since it hath pleased God to lay this heavy judgment upon us all

in this time, as an evidence of his displeasure for our sins, we do

comfort ourself with some hope, that he will, upon our due

humiliation before him, as a new instance of his signal blessing

upon us, give us life, not only to see the foundations laid, but the

buildings finished, of a much more beautiful city than is at this

time consumed.

In the first place, the woeful experience in this late heavy

visitation hath sufficiently convinced all men of the pernicious

consequences which have attended the building with timber, and even

with stone itself, and the notable benefit of brick, which in so

many places hath resisted and even extinguished the fire: and we do

therefore hereby declare our express will and pleasure that no man

whatsoever shall presume to erect any house or building, great or

small, but of brick or stone; and if any man shall do the contrary,

the next magistrate shall forthwith cause it to be pulled down, and

such further course shall be taken for his punishment as he

deserves. And we suppose that the notable benefit many men have

received from those cellars which have been well and strongly

arched, will persuade most men, who build good houses, to practise

that good husbandry, by arching all convenient places.

We do declare, that Fleet Street, Cheapside, Cornhill, and all other

eminent and notorious streets, shall be of such a breadth, as may,

with God's blessing, prevent the mischief that one side may suffer

if the other be on fire, which was the case lately in Cheapside; the

precise breadth of which several streets shall be, upon advice with

the lord mayor and aldermen, shortly published, with many other

particular orders and rules, which cannot yet be adjusted: in the

mean time we resolve, though all streets cannot be of all equal

breadth, yet none shall be so narrow as to make the passage uneasy

or inconvenient, especially towards the water-side; nor will we

suffer any lanes or alleys to be erected, but where, upon mature

deliberation, the same shall be found absolutely necessary; except

such places shall be set aside, which shall be designed only for

buildings of that kind, and from whence no public mischief may

probably arise.

The irreparable damage and loss by the late fire being, next to the

hand of God in the terrible wind, to be imputed to the place in

which it first broke out, amongst small timber houses standing so

close together, that as no remedy could be applied from the river

for the quenching thereof, to the contiguousness of the buildings

hindering and keeping all possible relief from the land-side, we do

resolve and declare, that there shall be a fair key or wharf on all

the river-side; that no house shall be erected within so many feet

of the river, as shall be within few days declared in the rules

formerly mentioned; nor shall there be in those buildings which

shall be erected next the river, which we desire may be fair

structures, for the ornament of the city, any houses to be inhabited

by brewers, or dyers, or sugar-bakers; which trades, by their

continual smokes, contribute very much to the unhealthiness of the

adjacent places; but we require the lord mayor and aldermen of

London, upon a full consideration, and weighing all conveniences and

inconveniences that can be foreseen, to propose such a place as may

be fit for all those trades which are carried on by smoke to inhabit

together, or at least several places for the several quarters of the

town for those occupations, and in which they shall find their

account in convenience and profit, as well as other places shall

receive the benefit in the distance of the neighbourhood; it being

our purpose, that they who exercise those necessary professions,

shall be in all respects as well provided for and encouraged as ever

they have been, and undergo as little prejudice as may be by being

less inconvenient to their neighbours.

Source Book of London History, from the earliest times to 1800 · 第 12 / 16 段