England, had landed that night, and taken up his quarters at the hotel
above mentioned. The landlord, who had been roused by the cries of fire,
and alarmed by the rumours of incendiaries, immediately called to mind
his guest, and dragging him from his room, thrust him, half-naked, into
the street. Announcing his conviction that the poor priest was an
incendiary to the mob without, they seized him, and in spite of his
protestations and explanations, which, being uttered in a foreign
tongue, they could not comprehend, they were about to exercise summary
punishment upon him, by hanging him to the sign-post before the
landlord's door, when they were diverted from their dreadful purpose by
Solomon Eagle, who prevailed upon them to carry him to Newgate.
The conflagration had now assumed so terrific a character that it
appalled even the stoutest spectator. It has been mentioned, that for
many weeks previous to the direful calamity, the weather had been
remarkably dry and warm, a circumstance which had prepared the old
wooden houses, abounding in this part of the city, for almost
instantaneous ignition. Added to this, if the incendiaries themselves
had deposited combustible materials at certain spots to extend the
conflagration, they could not have selected better places than accident
had arranged. All sorts of inflammable goods were contained in the shops
and ware-houses,--oil, hemp, flax, pitch, tar, cordage, sugar, wine, and
spirits; and when any magazine of this sort caught fire, it spread the
conflagration with tenfold rapidity.
The heat of the flames had now become almost insufferable, and the
sparks and flakes of fire fell so fast and thick, that the spectators
were compelled to retreat to a considerable distance from the burning
buildings. The noise occasioned by the cracking of the timbers, and the
falling of walls and roofs, was awful in the extreme. All the avenues
and thoroughfares near the fire were now choked up by carts, coaches,
and other vehicles, which had been hastily brought thither to remove the
goods of the inhabitants, and the hurry of the poor people to save a
wreck of their property, and the attempts made by the gangs of
plunderers to deprive them of it, constituted a scene of unparalleled
tumult and confusion. As yet, no troops had appeared to maintain order,
and seeing that as much mischief was almost done by the plunderers as by
the fire, Leonard determined to go in search of the lord mayor, and
acquaint him with the mischief that was occurring. Having heard that the
fire had already reached London Bridge, he resolved to ascertain whether
the report was true. As he proceeded down Saint Michael's-lane, he found
the venerable church from which it was designated on fire, and with some
difficulty forcing his way through the crowd, reached Thames-street,
where he discovered that the conflagration had even made more fearful
progress than he had anticipated. Fishmongers' Hall, a large square
structure, was on fire, and burning swiftly,--the flames encircling its
high roof, and the turret by which it was surmounted. Streams of fire,
too, had darted down the numerous narrow alleys leading to the
river-side, and reaching the wharves, had kindled the heaps of wood and
coal with which they were filled. The party under the command of the
lord mayor had used their utmost exertions to get rid of these
combustible materials by flinging them into the Thames; but they came
too late, and were driven away by the approach of the fire. Most of the
barges and heavy craft were aground, and they, too, caught fire, and
were burned, with their contents.
Finding he could neither render any assistance, nor obtain speech with
the lord mayor, and anxious to behold the terrible yet sublime spectacle
from the river, Leonard hastened to Old Swan-Stairs, and springing into
a boat, ordered the waterman to row into the middle of the Thames. He
could then discern the full extent of the conflagration, and trace the
progress it was making. All the houses between Fishmongers' Hall and the
bridge were on fire, and behind them rose a vast sheet of flame. Saint
Magnus' Church, at the foot of the bridge, was next seized by the flame,
and Leonard watched its destruction. An ancient gateway followed, and
soon afterwards a large stack of houses erected upon the bridge burst
into flames.
The inhabitants of the houses on the bridge, having now become
thoroughly alarmed, flung bedding, boxes, and articles of furniture, out
of their windows into the river. A crowd of boats surrounded the
starlings, and the terrified occupants of the structures above
descending to them by the staircases in the interior of the piers,
embarked with every article they could carry off. The river presented a
most extraordinary scene. Lighted by the red and fierce reflection of
the fire, and covered with boats, filled with families who had just
quitted their habitations either on the bridge or in some other street
adjoining it, its whole surface was speckled with pieces of furniture,
or goods, that had been cast into it, and which were now floating up
with the tide. Great crowds were collected on the Southwark shore to
watch the conflagration, while on the opposite side the wharves and
quays were thronged with persons removing their goods, and embarking
them in boats. One circumstance, noted by Pepys, and which also struck
Leonard, was the singular attachment displayed by the pigeons, kept by
the owners of several houses on the bridge, to the spots they had been
accustomed to. Even when the flames attacked the buildings to which the
dovecots were attached, the birds wheeled round and round them, until,
their pinions being scorched by the fire, they dropped into the water.
Leonard remained on the river nearly two hours. He could not, in fact,
tear himself away from the spectacle, which possessed a strange
fascination in his eyes. He began to think that all the efforts of men
were unavailing to arrest the progress of destruction, and he was for
awhile content to regard it as a mere spectacle. And never had he beheld
a more impressive--a more terrible sight. There lay the vast and
populous city before him, which he had once before known to be invaded
by an invisible but extirminating foe, now attacked by a furious and
far-seen enemy. The fire seemed to form a vast arch--many-coloured as a
rainbow,--reflected in the sky, and re-reflected in all its horrible
splendour in the river.
Nor was the aspect of the city less striking. The innumerable towers and
spires of the churches rose tall and dark through the wavering sheet of
flame, and every now and then one of them would topple down or
disappear, as if swallowed up by the devouring element. For a short
space, the fire seemed to observe a regular progressive movement, but
when it fell upon better material, it reared its blazing crest aloft,
changed its hues, and burnt with redoubled intensity. Leonard watched it
thread narrow alleys, and firing every lesser habitation in its course,
kindle some great hall or other structure, whose remoteness seemed to
secure it from immediate danger. At this distance, the roaring of the
flames resembled that of a thousand furnaces. Ever and anon, it was
broken by a sound like thunder, occasioned by the fall of some mighty
edifice. Then there would come a quick succession of reports like the
discharge of artillery, followed by a shower of fiery flakes and sparks
blown aloft, like the explosion of some stupendous firework. Mixed with
the roaring of the flames, the thunder of falling roofs, the cracking of
timber, was a wild hubbub of human voices, that sounded afar off like a
dismal wail. In spite of its terror, the appearance of the fire was at
that time beautiful beyond description. Its varying colours--its
fanciful forms--now shooting out in a hundred different directions, like
lightning-flashes,--now drawing itself up, as it were, and soaring
aloft,--now splitting into a million tongues of flame,--these aspects so
riveted the attention of Leonard, that he almost forgot in the sight the
dreadful devastation going forward. His eyes ached with gazing at the
fiery spectacle, and he was glad to rest them on the black masses of
building that stood in stern relief against it, and which there could be
little doubt would soon become its prey.
It was now broad daylight, except for the mighty cloud of smoke, which
o'er-canopied the city, creating an artificial gloom. Leonard's troubled
gaze wandered from the scene of destruction to Saint Paul's--an edifice,
which; from the many events connected with his fortunes that had
occurred there, had always a singular interest in his eyes. Calling to
mind the denunciations poured forth by Solomon Eagle against this fane,
he could not help fearing they would now be fulfilled. What added to his
misgivings was, that it was now almost entirely surrounded by poles and
scaffolding. Ever since the cessation of the plague, the repairs,
suspended during that awful season, had been recommenced under the
superintendence of Doctor Christopher Wren, and were now proceeding with
renewed activity. The whole of the building was under repair, and a vast
number of masons were employed upon it, and it was their scaffolding
that impressed Leonard with a dread of what afterwards actually
occurred. Accustomed to connect the figure of Solomon Eagle with the
sacred structure, he could not help fancying that he discovered a speck
resembling a human figure on the central tower. If it were the
enthusiast, what must his feelings be at finding his predictions so
fatally fulfilled? Little did Leonard think how the prophecy had been
accomplished!
But his attention was speedily called to the progress of the
conflagration. From the increased tumult in the city, it was evident the
inhabitants were now thoroughly roused, and actively bestirring
themselves to save their property. This was apparent, even on the river,
from the multitude of boats deeply laden with goods of all kinds, which
were now seen shaping their course towards Westminster. The fire, also,
had made rapid progress on all sides. The vast pile of habitations at
the north side of the bridge was now entirely in flames. The effect of
this was awfully fine. Not only did the flames mount to a greater
height, and appear singularly conspicuous from the situation of the
houses, but every instant some blazing fragment fell with a tremendous
splash into the water, where it hissed for a moment, and then was for
ever quenched, floating a black mass upon the surface. From the foot of
the bridge to Coal Harbour Stairs, extended what Dryden finely calls "a
quay of fire." All the wharves and warehouses were in flames, and
burning with astonishing rapidity, while this part of Thames-street,
"the lodge of all combustibles," had likewise become a prey to the
devouring element. The fire, too, had spread in an easterly direction,
and consuming three churches, namely, Saint Andrew's, in Botolph-lane,
Saint Mary's, in Love-lane, and Saint Dunstan's in the East, had invaded
Tower-street, and seemed fast approaching the ancient fortress. So
fascinated was Leonard with the sight, that he could have been well
content to remain all day gazing at it, but he now recollected that he
had other duties to perform, and directing the waterman to land him at
Queenhithe, ascended Bread-street-hill, and betook himself to
Wood-street.
IV. LEONARD'S INTERVIEW WITH THE KING.
Some rumours of the conflagration, as will be supposed, had ere this
reached Mr. Bloundel, but he had no idea of the extent of the direful
calamity, and when informed of it by Leonard, lifted up his hands
despairingly, exclaiming, in accents of the deepest affliction--"Another
judgment, then, has fallen upon this sinful city,--another judgment yet
more terrible than the first. Man may have kindled this great fire, but
the hand of God is apparent in it. 'Alas! alas! for thee, thou great
city, Babylon! Alas for thee, thou mighty city! for in one hour is thy
judgment come. The kings of the earth shall bewail thee, and lament for
thee, when they see the smoke of thy burning.'"
"Your dwelling was spared in the last visitation, sir," observed
Leonard, after a pause, "and you were able to shut yourself up, as in a
strong castle, against the all-exterminating foe. But I fear you will
not be able to ward off the assaults of the present enemy, and recommend
you to remove your family and goods without delay to some place of
security far from this doomed city."
"This is the Lord's Day, Leonard, and must be kept holy," replied the
grocer. "To-morrow, if I am spared so long, I will endeavour to find
some place of shelter."
"If the conflagration continues to spread as rapidly as it is now doing,
to-morrow will be too late," rejoined Leonard.
"It may be so," returned the grocer, "but I will not violate the
Sabbath. If the safety of my family is threatened, that is another
matter, but I will not attempt to preserve my goods. Do not, however,
let me influence you. Take such portion of our stock as belongs to you,
and you know that a third of the whole is yours, and convey it where you
please."
"On no account, sir," interrupted Leonard. "I should never think of
acting in opposition to your wishes. This will be a sad Sunday for
London."
"The saddest she has ever seen," replied the grocer; "for though the
voice of prayer was silenced in her churches during the awful season of
the plague, yet then men's minds had been gradually prepared for the
calamity, and though filled with terror, they were not taken by
surprise, as must now be the case. But let us to prayers, and may our
earnest supplications avail in turning aside the Divine displeasure."
And summoning his family and household, all of whom were by this time
stirring, and in the utmost consternation at what they had heard of the
fire, he commenced a prayer adapted to the occasion in a strain of the
utmost fervour; and as Leonard gazed at his austere countenance, now
lighted up with holy zeal, and listened to his earnest intercessions in
behalf of the devoted city, he was reminded of the prophet Jeremiah
weeping for Jerusalem before the throne of grace.
Prayers over, the whole party sat down to their morning repast, after
which, the grocer and his eldest son, accompanied by Leonard and Blaize,
mounted to the roof of the house, and gazing in the direction of the
conflagration, they could plainly distinguish the vast cloud of yellow
smoke commingled with flame that marked the scene of its ravages. As the
wind blew from this quarter, charged, as has been stated, with a cloud
of sparks, many of the fire-drops were dashed in their faces, and
compelled them to shade their eyes. The same awful roar which Leonard
had heard on the river likewise broke upon their ears, while from all
the adjoining streets arose a wild clamour of human voices, the burden
of whose cries was "Fire! Fire!" The church bells, which should have
been tolling to early devotion, were now loudly ringing the alarm, while
their towers were crowded, as were the roofs of most of the houses, with
persons gazing towards the scene of devastation. Nothing could be more
opposite to the stillness and quiet of a Sabbath morn; and as the grocer
listened to the noise and tumult prevailing around him, he could not
repress a groan.
"I never thought my ears would be so much offended on this day," he
said. "Let us go down. I have seen and heard enough."
They then descended, and Stephen Bloundel, who was greatly alarmed by
what he had just witnessed, strongly urged his father to remove
immediately. "There are seasons," said the young man, "when even our
duty to Heaven becomes a secondary consideration; and I should be sorry
if the fruit of your industry were sacrificed to your religious
scruples."
"There are no such seasons," replied the grocer, severely; "and I am
grieved that a son of mine should think so. If the inhabitants of this
sinful city had not broken the Sabbath, and neglected God's
commandments, this heavy judgment would not have fallen upon them. I
shall neglect no precaution for the personal safety of my family, but I
place my worldly goods in the hands of Him from whom I derived them, and
to whom I am ready to restore them, whenever it shall please Him to take
them."
"I am rebuked, father," replied Stephen, humbly; "and entreat your
pardon for having ventured to differ with you. I am now fully sensible
of the propriety of your conduct."
"And I have ever acquiesced in your wishes, be they what they may," said
Mrs. Bloundel to her husband; "but I confess I am dreadfully frightened.
I hope you will remove the first thing to-morrow."
"When midnight has struck, and the Sabbath is past, I shall commence my
preparations," replied the grocer. "You must rest content till then."
Mrs. Bloundel heaved a sigh, but said no more; and the grocer, retiring
to a side-table, opened the Bible, and sat down calmly to its perusal.
But though no further remonstrances reached his ears, there was great
murmuring in the kitchen on the part of Blaize and Patience.
"Goodness knows what will become of us!" cried the latter. "I expect we
shall all be burnt alive, owing to our master's obstinacy. What harm can
there be in moving on a Sunday, I should like to know? I'm sure I'm too
much hurried and flurried to say my prayers as I ought to do."
"And so am I," replied Blaize. "Mr. Bloundel is a great deal too
particular. What a dreadful thing it would be if the house should be
burnt down, and all my mother's savings, which were to form a provision
for our marriage, lost."
"That would be terrible, indeed," cried Patience, with a look of dismay.
"I think the wedding had better take place as soon as the fire is over.
It can't last many days if it goes on at this rate."
"You are right," returned Blaize. "I have no objection. I'll speak to my
mother at once." And stepping into the scullery, where old Josyna was
washing some dishes, he addressed her--"Mother, I'm sadly afraid this
great fire will reach us before our master will allow us to move. Hadn't
you better let me take care of the money you intended giving me on my
marriage with Patience?"
"No, no, myn goed zoon," replied Josyna, shaking her head--"I musd zee
you married virsd."
"But I can't be married to-day," cried Blaize--"and there's no time to
lose. The fire will be upon us directly."
"I cand help dat," returned his mother. "We musd place our drusd in
God."
"There I quite agree with you, mother," replied Blaize; "but we must
also take care of ourselves. If you won't give me the money, at least
put it in a box to carry off at a moment's notice."
"Don't be afraid, myn zoon," replied Josyna. "I wond forged id."
"I'm sadly afraid you will, though," muttered Blaize, as he walked away.
"There's no doing any good with her," he added to Patience. "She's as
obstinate as Mr. Bloundel. I should like to see the fire of all things;
but I suppose I musn't leave the house."
"Of course not," replied Patience, pettishly; "at such a time it would
be highly improper. I forbid that."
"Then I must need submit," groaned Blaize--"I can't even have my own way
before marriage."
When the proper time arrived, the grocer, accompanied by all his family
and household, except old Josyna, who was left in charge of the house,
repaired to the neighbouring church of Saint Alban's, but, finding the
doors closed, and that no service was to be performed, he returned home
with a sorrowful heart. Soon after this, Leonard took Mr. Bloundel
apart, and observed to him, "I have a strong conviction that I could be
useful in arresting the progress of the conflagration, and, as I cannot
attend church service, I will, with your permission, devote myself to
that object. It is my intention to proceed to Whitehall, and, if
possible, obtain an audience of the king, and if I succeed in doing so,
to lay a plan before him, which I think would prove efficacious."
"I will not ask what the plan is," rejoined the grocer, "because I doubt
its success. Neither will I oppose your design, which is praiseworthy.
Go, and may it prosper. Return in the evening, for I may need your
assistance--perhaps protection."
Leonard then prepared to set forth. Blaize begged hard to accompany him,
but was refused. Forcing his way through the host of carts, coaches,
drays, and other vehicles thronging the streets, Leonard made the best
of his way to Whitehall, where he speedily arrived. A large body of
mounted troopers were stationed before the gates of the palace, and a
regiment of the foot-guards were drawn up in the court. Drums were
beating to arms, and other martial sounds were heard, showing the alarm
that was felt. Leonard was stopped at the gate by a sentinel, and
refused admittance; and he would in all probability have been turned
back, if at that moment the Lords Argentine and Rochester had not come
up. On seeing him, the former frowned, and passed quickly on, but the
latter halted.
"You seem to be in some difficulty," remarked Rochester. "Can I help
you?"
Leonard was about to turn away, but he checked himself.
"I will not suffer my resentful feelings to operate injuriously to
others," he muttered. "I desire to see the king, my lord," he added, to
the earl. "I have a proposal to make to him, which I think would be a
means of checking the conflagration."
"Say you so?" cried Rochester. "Come along, then. Heaven grant your plan
may prove successful; in which case, I promise you, you shall be nobly
rewarded."
"I seek no reward, my lord," replied Leonard. "All I desire is to save
the city."
"Well, well," rejoined Rochester, "it will be time enough to refuse his
majesty's bounty when offered."
Upon this, he ordered the sentinel to withdraw, and Leonard followed him
into the palace. They found the entrance-hall filled with groups of
officers and attendants, all conversing together, it was evident from
their looks and manner, on the one engrossing topic--the conflagration.
Ascending a magnificent staircase, and traversing part of a grand
gallery, they entered an ante-room, in which a number of courtiers and
pages--amongst the latter of whom was Chiffinch--were assembled. At the
door of the inner chamber stood a couple of ushers, and as the earl
approached, it was instantly thrown open. As Leonard, however, who
followed close behind his leader, passed Chiffinch, the latter caught
hold of his arm and detained him. Hearing the movement, Rochester
turned, and said quickly to the page, "Let him pass, he is going with
me."
"Old Rowley is in no humour for a jest to-day, my lord," replied
Chiffinch, familiarly. "He is more serious than I have ever before seen
him, and takes this terrible fire sadly to heart, as well he may. Mr.
Secretary Pepys, of the Admiralty, is with him, and is detailing all
particulars of the calamity to him, I believe."
"It is in reference to the fire that I have brought this young man with
me," returned the earl. "Let him pass, I say. State your plan boldly,"
he added, as they entered the audience-chamber.
At the further end of the long apartment, on a chair of state, and
beneath a canopy, sat Charles. He was evidently much disturbed, and
looked eagerly at the new-comers, especially at Leonard, expecting to
find him the bearer of some important intelligence. On the right of the
king, and near an open window, which, looking towards the river,
commanded a view of the fire on the bridge, as well as of part of the
burning city, stood the Duke of York. The duke did not appear much
concerned at the calamity, but was laughing with Lord Argentine, who
stood close beside him. The smile fled from the lips of the latter as he
beheld Leonard, and he looked angrily at Rochester, who did not,
however, appear to notice his displeasure. On the left of the royal
chair was Mr. Pepys, engaged, as Chiffinch had intimated, in detailing
to the king the progress of the conflagration; and next to the secretary
stood the Earl of Craven,--a handsome, commanding, and martial-looking
personage, though somewhat stricken in years. Three other noblemen--
namely, the Lords Hollis, Arlington, and Ashley--were likewise present.
"Who have you with you, Rochester?" demanded Charles, as the earl and
his companion approached him.
"A young man, my liege, who desires to make known to you a plan for
checking this conflagration," replied the earl.
"Ah!" exclaimed the king; "let him accomplish that for us, and he shall
ask what he will in return."
"I ventured to promise him as much," observed Rochester.
"Mine is a very simple and a very obvious plan, sire," said Leonard;
"but I will engage, on the peril of my life, if you will give me
sufficient authority, and means to work withal, to stop the further
progress of this fire."
"In what way?" asked Charles, impatiently;--"in what way?"