confusion prevailed, that they were wholly unobserved, and under the
plea of rendering assistance, they entered houses and carried off
whatever excited their cupidity, or was sufficiently portable. No
wealthy house had been attacked as yet, and therefore their spoil was
but trifling. The poor baker seemed to be the bearer of ill-luck, for he
had not been many minutes in his new asylum before it likewise caught
fire. Another house, too, in Fish-street-hill, and lower down than the
first, was observed to be burning, and as this was out of the current of
the wind, and consequently could not have been occasioned by the showers
of sparks that marked its course, a cry was instantly raised that
incendiaries were abroad, and several suspicious-looking persons were
seized in consequence.
Meantime no efforts had been made to stop the progress of the original
conflagration in Pudding-lane, which continued to rage with the greatest
fury, spreading from house to house with astonishing rapidity. All the
buildings in this neighbourhood being old, and of wood, which was as dry
as tinder, a spark alighting upon them would have sufficed to set them
on fire. It may be conceived, therefore, what must have been the effect
of a vast volume of flame, fanned by a powerful wind. House after house
caught, as if constructed of touchwood, and the fire roared and raged to
such a degree, that those who stood by were too much terrified to render
any effectual assistance. Indeed, the sole thought that now seemed to
influence all was the preservation of a portion of their property. No
one regarded his neighbour, or the safety of the city. The narrow street
was instantly filled with goods and furniture of all kinds, thrown out
of the windows or pushed out of the doors; but such was the fierceness
of the fire, and the extraordinary rapidity with which it advanced, that
the very articles attempted to be saved were seized by it, and thus
formed a means of conveying it to the opposite houses.
In this way a number of persons were inclosed for a short time between
two fires, and seemed in imminent danger of being burned to death. The
perilous nature of their situation was, moreover, increased by a sudden
and violent gust of wind, which, blowing the flames right across the
street, seemed to envelop all within them. The shrieks that burst from
the poor creatures thus involved were most appalling. Fortunately, they
sustained no greater damage than was occasioned by the fright and a
slight scorching, for the next moment the wind shifted, and, sweeping
back the flames, they were enabled to effect their retreat. Chowles and
Judith were among the sufferers, and in the alarm of the moment lost all
the booty they had obtained.
Soon after this the whole street was on fire. All idea of preserving
their property was therefore abandoned by the inhabitants, and they
thought only of saving themselves. Hundreds of half-naked persons of
both sexes rushed towards Thames-street in search of a place of refuge.
The scene was wholly without parallel for terror. Many fires had
occurred in London, but none that raged with such fierceness as the
present conflagration, or promised to be so generally destructive. It
gathered strength and fury each moment, now rising high into the air in
a towering sheet of flame, now shooting forward like an enormous dragon
vomiting streams of fire upon its foes. All at once the flames changed
colour, and were partially obscured by a thick black smoke. A large
warehouse filled with resin, tar, and other combustible matters, had
caught fire, and the dense vapour proceeded from the burning pitch. But
it cleared off in a few minutes, and the flames burnt more brightly and
fiercely than ever.
Up to this time, none of the civic authorities having arrived, several
persons set off to give information of the calamity to the lord mayor
(Sir Thomas Bludworth), and the other magistrates. A small party of the
watch were on the spot, but they were unable to render any effectual
assistance. As the conflagration advanced, those occupying houses in its
track quitted them, and left their goods a prey to the numerous
plunderers, who were now gathered together pursuing their vocation like
unhallowed beings amid the raging element. The whole presented a scene
of the wildest alarm, confusion, and license. Vociferations, oaths,
shrieks, and outcries of every description stunned the ear. Night was
turned into day. The awful roaring of the flames was ever and anon
broken by the thundering fall of some heavy roof. Flakes of fire were
scattered far and wide by the driving wind, carrying destruction
wherever they alighted, and spreading the conflagration on all sides,
till it seemed like a vast wedge of fire driven into the heart of the
city. And thus it went on, swallowing up all before it, like an
insatiate monster, and roaring for very joy.
Meanwhile, the incendiaries had met, as concerted, near the foot of the
bridge, and all except Philip Grant seemed to rejoice in the progress of
the conflagration. Chowles made some comment upon his moody looks and
silence, and whispered in his ear, "You have now an opportunity of
retrieving your fortune, and may make yourself richer than your son.
Take my advice, and do not let it pass."
"Away, tempter!" cried Grant--"I have lighted a fire within my breast
which never will be quenched."
"Poh, poh!" rejoined Judith; "do not turn faint-hearted now."
"The fire rages fiercely," cried Solomon Eagle, gazing at the vast sheet
of flame overtopping the buildings near them, "but we must keep it
alive. Take the remainder of the fire-balls, Hubert, and cast them into
some of the old houses in Crooked-lane."
Hubert prepared to obey. "I will go with you, and point out the best
spots," said Chowles. "Our next place of rendezvous must be the vaults
beneath Saint Faith's."
"Agreed!" exclaimed the others. And they again separated, Hubert and
Chowles to kindle fresh fires, and Grant to watch the conflagration at a
distance. As to Solomon Eagle, he rushed towards the scene of
destruction, and forcing himself into the midst of the crowd, mounted a
post, crying in a loud voice:
"I told you a second judgment would come upon you on account of your
iniquities, and you now find that I avouched the truth. The Lord himself
hath come to preach to you, as he did in the fiery mount of Sinai, and a
terrible exhortation it shall be, and one ye shall not easily forget.
This fire shall not be quenched till the whole city is laid prostrate.
Ye doubted my words when I told you of the plague; ye laughed at me and
scoffed me; but ye became believers in the end, and now conviction is
forced upon you a second time. You will vainly attempt to save your
dwellings. It is the Lord's will they should be destroyed, and man's
efforts to avert the judgment will be ineffectual!"
While the majority listened to him with fear and trembling, and regarded
him as a prophet, a few took the opposite view of the question, and
coupling his appearance with the sudden outbreak of the fire, were
disposed to regard him as an incendiary. They therefore cried out--"He
has set fire to our houses. Down with him! down with him!"
Other voices joined in the outcry, and an attempt was made to carry the
menace into effect; but a strong party rallied round the enthusiast, who
derided the attempts of his opponents. Planting himself on the steps of
Saint Margaret's Church, he continued to pour forth exhortations to the
crowd, until he was driven into the interior of the pile by the
fast-approaching flames. The whole body of the church was filled with
poor wretches who had sought refuge within it, having brought with them
such of their goods as they were able to carry off. But it soon became
evident that the sacred structure would be destroyed, and their screams
and cries on quitting it were truly heartrending. Solomon Eagle was the
last to go forth, and he delayed his departure till the flames burst
through the windows. Another great storehouse of oil, tar, cordage,
hemp, flax, and other highly inflammable articles, adjoining the church,
had caught fire, and the flames speedily reached the sacred fabric. The
glass within the windows was shivered; the stone bars split asunder; and
the seats and other woodwork withinside catching fire, the flames
ascended to the roof, and kindled its massive rafters.
Great efforts were now made to check the fire. A few of the cumbrous and
unmanageable engines of the day were brought to the spot, but no water
could be obtained. All the aqueducts, pipes, and sluices were dry, and
the Thames water-tower was found to be out of order, and the pipes
connected with it empty. To add to the calamity, the tide was out, and
it was not only difficult, but dangerous, to obtain water from the
river. The scanty supply served rather to increase than check the
flames. All sorts of rumours prevailed among the crowd. It could no
longer be doubted that the fire, which kept continually breaking out in
fresh places, was the work of incendiaries, and it was now supposed that
it must have been caused by the French or the Dutch, with both of which
nations the country was then at war, and the most fearful anticipations
that it was only the prelude of a sudden invasion were entertained. Some
conjectured it might be the work of the Papists; and it chancing that a
professor of that religion was discovered among the mob, he was with
difficulty rescued from their fury by the watch, and conveyed to
Newgate. Other persons, who were likewise suspected of being
incendiaries, were conveyed with him.
This, though it satisfied the multitude, did not check the progress of
the fire, nor put a stop to the terror and tumult that prevailed. Every
moment a fresh family were turned into the street, and by their cries
added to the confusion. The plunderers had formed themselves into bands,
pillaging everything they could lay hands on--carrying off boxes, goods,
and coffers, breaking into cellars, broaching casks of spirits and ale,
and emptying flasks of wine. Hundreds of persons who did not join in the
pillage made free with the contents of the cellars, and a large portion
of the concourse was soon in a state of intoxication.
Thus, wild laughter and exclamations of frenzied mirth were heard amid
the wailings of women and the piteous cries of children. It was indeed
dreadful to see the old and bed-ridden forced into the street to seek a
home where they could; nor yet less dreadful to behold others roused
from a bed of sickness at dead of night, and by such a fearful summons.
Still, fanned by the wind, and fed by a thousand combustible matters,
the fire pressed fearfully on, devouring all before it, and increasing
in fury and power each instant; while the drunken mob laughed, roared,
shouted, and rejoiced beside it, as if in emulation of the raging
flames.
To proceed for a moment to Wood Street. When Philip Grant quitted
Leonard in the manner before related, the latter followed him to the
door, and saw him disappear in the gloom. But he did not attempt
pursuit, because he could not persuade himself that any danger was
really to be apprehended. He thought it, however, advisable to consult
with Mr. Bloundel on the subject, and accordingly proceeded to his room
and roused him.
After hearing what had occurred, the grocer looked very grave, and said,
"I am not disposed to treat this matter so lightly as you do, Leonard. I
fear this unhappy man has some desperate design in view. What it is I
cannot--dare not--conjecture. But I confess I am full of apprehension. I
shall not retire to rest to-night, but shall hold myself in readiness to
act in whatever way may be necessary, You had better go forth, and if
anything occurs, give notice to the proper authorities. We have not now
such a lord mayor as we had during the season of the plague. The firm
and courageous Sir John Lawrence is but ill succeeded by the weak and
vacillating Sir Thomas Bludworth. Still, the latter may be equal to this
emergency, and if anything happens, you must apply to him."
"I will follow your advice implicitly," rejoined Leonard. "At the same
time, I think there is nothing to apprehend."
"It is better to err on the safe side," observed the grocer; "you cannot
then reproach yourself with want of caution."
Shortly after this, Leonard sallied forth, and having determined what
course to pursue in the first instance, proceeded to Saint Paul's. He
found every door in the sacred structure fast closed. Not satisfied with
this, he knocked at the great northern entrance till the summons was
answered by a verger, and stating his object, demanded to be admitted,
and to search the cathedral, as well as Saint Faith's. The verger
offered no objection, and having examined the old building throughout,
without discovering any traces of the person he was in quest of, Leonard
quitted it.
More than ever convinced that he was right in his supposition, and that
no danger was to be apprehended, he was about to return home, when the
idea occurred to him that he might perhaps find Grant at the plague-pit
in Finsbury Fields, and he accordingly shaped his course thither. A long
period had elapsed since he had last visited the melancholy spot, and it
was not without much painful emotion that he drew near the vast mound
covering the victims of the pestilence. But Grant was not there, and
though he paced round and round the dreary inclosure for some time, no
one came. He then proceeded to the lesser plague-pit, and kneeling
beside the grave of Amabel, bedewed it with his tears.
As he arose, with the intention of returning to Wood Street, he observed
an extraordinary light in the sky a little to the left, evidently
produced by the reflection of a great fire in that direction. On
beholding this light, he said to himself, "Mr. Bloundel was right. This
is the danger with which the city is threatened. It is now too late to
avert it." Determined, however, to ascertain the extent of the calamity
without an instant's loss of time, he set off at a swift pace, and in
less than half an hour reached Fish Street Hill, and stood beside the
conflagration. It was then nearly three o'clock, and a vast chasm of
blackening ruins proclaimed the devastation that had been committed.
Just as he arrived, the roof of Saint Margaret's fell in with a
tremendous crash, and for a few minutes the fire was subdued. It then
arose with greater fury than ever; burst out on both sides of the sacred
structure, and caught the line of houses leading towards London Bridge.
The first house was that of a vintner; and the lower part of the
premises--the cellars and vaults--were filled with wine and spirits.
These instantly blazed up, and burnt with such intensity that the
adjoining habitation was presently in flames.
"I know who hath done all this!" exclaimed Leonard, half involuntarily,
as he gazed on the work of destruction.
"Indeed!" exclaimed a bystander, gazing at him. "Who is it?--the
Dutchman or the Frenchman?"
"Neither," replied Leonard, who at that moment discovered Grant among
the group opposite him. "Yonder stands the incendiary!"
III. PROGRESS OF THE FIRE.
Instantly surrounded and seized by the mob, Grant offered no resistance,
but demanded to be led with his accuser before a magistrate. Almost as
the words were uttered, a cry was raised that the lord mayor and the
sheriffs were coming along East-cheap, and the prisoner and Leonard were
immediately hurried off in that direction. They met the civic
authorities at the corner of Saint Clement's-lane; but instead of paying
any attention to them, the lord mayor, who appeared to be in a state of
great agitation and excitement, ordered the javelin-men, by whom he was
attended, to push the mob aside.
"I will not delay your worship an instant," cried Leonard; "but this
dreadful fire is the work of incendiaries, of whom that man," pointing
to Grant, "is the principal. I pray your worship to question him. He may
have important revelations to make."
"Eh, what?" cried the lord mayor, addressing Grant. "Is it true you are
an incendiary? Who are your accomplices? Where are they?"
"I have none," replied Grant, boldly--"I deny the charge altogether. Let
my accuser prove it if he can."
"You hear what he says, young man," said the mayor. "Did you see him set
fire to any house? Did you find any fire-balls on his person?"
"I did not," replied Leonard.
"I searched him, your worship," cried Chowles, who was among the
bystanders, "the moment he was seized, and found nothing upon him. It is
a false and malicious charge."
"It looks like it, I must say," replied the mayor. "On what grounds do
you accuse him?" he added, angrily, to Leonard.
"On these," replied Leonard. "He came to me three hours ago, and
confessed that he had a desperate design against the safety of the city,
and made certain proposals to me, to which I would not listen. This is
not the season for a full explanation of the matter. But I pray your
worship, as you value the welfare of the city, to have him secured."
"There can be no harm in that," replied the lord mayor. "His appearance
is decidedly against him. Let him be taken care of till the morrow, when
I will examine further into the matter. Your name and place of abode,
young man?"
"I am called Leonard Holt, and my business is that of a grocer, in
Wood-street," was the reply.
"Enough," rejoined the mayor. "Take away the prisoner. I will hear
nothing further now. Lord! Lord! how the fire rages, to be sure. We
shall have the whole city burnt down, if we do not take care."
"That we shall, indeed," replied Sir Robert Viner, one of the sheriffs,
"unless the most prompt and decisive measures are immediately adopted."
"What would you recommend?" cried the lord mayor, despairingly. Sir
Robert looked perplexed by the question.
"If I might offer an opinion," interposed Leonard, "I would advise your
worship to pull down all the houses in the way of the fire, as the only
means of checking it."
"Pull down the houses!" cried the lord mayor. "Who ever heard of such an
idea? Why, that would be worse than the fire. No, no; that will never
do."
"The young man is in the right," observed Sir Joseph Sheldon, the other
sheriff.
"Well, well--we shall see," replied the mayor. "But we are losing time
here. Forward! forward!"
And while Grant was borne off to Newgate by a guard of javelin-men, the
lord mayor and his company proceeded to Fish-street-hill, where the
whole conflagration burst upon them. The moment the lord mayor appeared,
he was beset on all sides by hundreds of families soliciting his
protection. Others came to give him the alarming intelligence that a
very scanty supply of water only could be obtained, and that already two
engines had been destroyed, while the firemen who worked them had
narrowly escaped with life. Others again pressed him for instructions
how to act--some suggesting one plan--some another,--and being of a weak
and irresolute character, and utterly unequal to a fearful emergency
like the present, he was completely bewildered. Bidding the houseless
families take refuge in the churches, he ordered certain officers to
attend them, and affecting to doubt the statement of those who affirmed
there was no water, advised them to go to the river, where they would
find plenty. In vain they assured him the tide was out, the Thames
water-tower empty, the pipes and conduits dry. He would not believe
anything of the sort, but upbraiding his informants with neglect, bade
them try again. As to instructions, he could give none.
At last, a reluctant assent being wrung from him by Sir Joseph Sheldon,
that a house should be pulled down, as suggested by Leonard,
preparations were instantly made for putting the design into execution.
The house selected was about four doors from the top of
Fish-street-hill, and belonged to a birdcage-maker. But they encountered
an unexpected opposition. Having ascertained their purpose, the owner
fastened his doors, and refused to admit them. He harangued the mob from
one of the upper windows, and producing a pistol, threatened to fire
upon them if they attempted to gain a forcible entrance. The officers,
however, having received their orders, were not to be intimidated, and
commenced breaking down the door. The birdcage-maker then fired, but
without effect; and before he had time to reload, the door had yielded
to the combined efforts of the multitude, who were greatly enraged at
his strange conduct. They rushed upstairs, but finding he had locked
himself in the room, left him there, supposing him secure, and commenced
the work of demolition. More than a hundred men were engaged in the
task; but though they used the utmost exertion, they had little more
than unroofed the building, when a cry was raised by those in the
street that the house was on fire. Alarmed by the shout, they descended,
and found the report true. Flames were issuing from the room lately
occupied by the birdcage-maker. The wretch had set fire to his dwelling,
and then made his escape with his family by a back staircase. Thus
defeated, the workmen, with bitter imprecations on the fugitive,
withdrew, and Leonard, who had lent his best assistance to the task,
repaired to the lord mayor. He found him in greater consternation than
ever.
"We must go further off, if we would do any good," said Leonard; "and as
the present plan is evidently too slow, we must have recourse to
gunpowder."
"Gunpowder!" exclaimed the lord mayor. "Would you blow up the city, like
a second Guy Fawkes? I begin to suspect you are one of the incendiaries
yourself, young man. Lord, Lord! what will become of us?"
"If your worship disapproves of my suggestion, at least give orders what
is to be done," rejoined Leonard.
"I have done all I can," replied the mayor. "Who are you that talk to me
thus?"
"I have told your worship I am a simple tradesman," replied Leonard.
"But I have the welfare of the city at heart, and I cannot stand by and
see it burnt to the ground without an effort to save it."
"Well, well, I dare say you mean very well, young man," rejoined the
lord mayor, somewhat pacified. "But don't you perceive it's impossible
to stop such a fire as this without water, or engines. I'm sure I would
willingly lay down my life to preserve the city. But what can I
do?--what can any man do?"
"Much may be done if there is resolution to attempt it," returned
Leonard. "I would recommend your worship to proceed, in the first place,
to the wharves on the banks of the Thames, and cause the removal of the
wood, coal, and other combustible matter with which they are crowded."
"Well thought of," cried the lord mayor. "I will go thither at once. Do
you stay here. Your advice will be useful. I will examine you touching
the incendiary to-morrow--that is, if we are any of us left alive, which
I don't expect. Lord, Lord! what will become of us?" And with many
similar ejaculations, he hurried off with the sheriffs, and the greater
part of his attendants, and taking his way down Saint Michael's-lane,
soon reached the river-side.
By this time, the fire had approached the summit of Fish-street-hill,
and here the overhanging stories of the houses coming so close together
as almost to meet at the top, the flames speedily caught the other side,
and spread the conflagration in that direction. Two other houses were
likewise discovered to be on fire in Crooked-lane, and in an incredibly
short space the whole dense mass of habitations lying at the west side
of Fish-street-hill, and between Crooked-lane and Eastcheap, were in
flames, and threatening the venerable church of Saint Michael, which
stood in the midst of them, with instant destruction. To the
astonishment of all who witnessed it, the conflagration seemed to
proceed as rapidly against the wind, as with it, and to be approaching
Thames-street, both by Pudding-lane and Saint Michael's-lane. A large
stable, filled with straw and hay, at the back of the Star Inn, in
Little Eastcheap, caught fire, and carrying the conflagration eastward,
had already conveyed it as far as Botolph-lane.