burnt throughout the whole of Monday night, and having destroyed Saint
Paul's, as before related, poured down Ludgate-hill, consuming all in
its way, and, crossing Fleet Bridge, commenced its ravages upon the
great thoroughfare adjoining it. On Tuesday an immense tract was on
fire. All Fleet-street, as far as the Inner Temple, Ludgate-hill, and
the whole of the city eastwards, along the banks of the Thames, up to
the Tower Dock, where the devastation was checked by the vast gap of
houses demolished, were in flames. From thence the boundary of the fire
extended to the end of Mark-lane, Lime-street, and Leadenhall, the
strong walls of which resisted its fury. Ascending again by the Standard
on Cornhill, Threadneedle-street, and Austin Friars, it embraced
Drapers' Hall, and the whole mass of buildings to the west of
Throgmorton-street. It next proceeded to the then new buildings behind
Saint Margaret's, Lothbury, and so on westward to the upper end of
Cateaton-street, whence it spread to the second postern in London Wall,
and destroying the ramparts and suburbs as far as Cripplegate, consumed
Little Wood-street, Mungwell-street, and the whole of the city wall on
the west as far as Aldersgate. Passing a little to the north of Saint
Sepulchre's, which it destroyed, it crossed Holborn Bridge, and
ascending Saint Andrew's-hill, passed the end of Shoe-lane, and so on to
the end of Fetter-lane. The whole of the buildings contained within this
boundary were now on fire, and burning with terrific fury. And so they
continued till the middle of Wednesday, when the wind abating, and an
immense quantity of houses being demolished according to Lord
Argentine's plan, the conflagration was got under; and though it broke
out in several places after that time, little mischief was done, and it
may be said to have ceased on the middle of that day.
On Saturday morning in that week, soon after daybreak, a young man,
plainly yet richly attired in the habiliments then worn by persons of
high rank, took his way over the smouldering heaps of rubbish, and along
the ranks of ruined and blackened walls denoting the habitations that
had once constituted Fleet-street. It was with no little risk, and some
difficulty, that he could force his way, now clambering over heaps of
smouldering ashes, now passing by some toppling wall, which fell with a
terrific crash after he had just passed it--now creeping under an
immense pile of blackened rafters; but he at length reached Fleet
Bridge, where he paused to gaze at the scene of devastation around him.
It was indeed a melancholy sight, and drew tears to his eyes. The
ravages of the fire were almost inconceivable. Great beams were burnt to
charcoal--stones calcined, and as white as snow, and such walls and
towers as were left standing were so damaged that their instant fall was
to be expected. The very water in the wells and fountains was boiling,
and even the muddy Fleet sent forth a hot steam. The fire still lingered
in the lower parts of many habitations, especially where wine, spirits,
or inflammable goods had been kept; and these "voragos of subterranean
cellars," as Evelyn terms them, still emitted flames, together with a
prodigious smoke and stench. Undismayed by the dangers of the path he
had to traverse, the young man ascended Ludgate-hill, still encountering
the same devastation, and passing through the ruined gateway, the end of
which remained perfect, approached what had once been Saint Paul's
Cathedral. Mounting a heap of rubbish at the end of Ludgate street, he
gazed at the mighty ruin, which looked more like the remains of a city
than those of a single edifice.
The solid walls and buttresses were split and rent asunder; enormous
stones were splintered and calcined by the heat; and vast flakes having
scaled from off the pillars, gave them a hoary and almost ghostly
appearance. Its enormous extent was now for the first time clearly seen,
and, strange to say it looked twice as large in ruins as when entire.
The central tower was still standing, but chipped, broken, and calcined,
like the rest of the structure, by the vehement heat of the flames. Part
of the roof, in its fall, broke through the solid floor of the choir,
which was of immense thickness, into Saint Faith's, and destroyed the
magazine of books and paper deposited there by the booksellers. The
portico, erected by Inigo Jones, and which found so much favour in
Evelyn's eyes, that he describes it as "comparable to any in Europe,"
and particularly deplores its loss, shared the fate of the rest of the
building--the only part left uninjured being the architrave, the
inscription on which was undefaced.
Having satiated himself with this sad but striking prospect, the young
man, with some toil and trouble, crossed the churchyard, and gained
Cheapside, where a yet more terrific scene of devastation than that
which he had previously witnessed burst upon him. On the right of London
Bridge, which he could discern through the chasms of the houses, and
almost to the Tower, were nothing but ruins, while a similar waste lay
on the left. Such was the terrible change that had been wrought in the
aspect of the ruined city, that if the young man had not had some marks
to guide him, he would not have known where he was. The tower and ruined
walls of Saint Peter's Church pointed out to him the entrance to
Wood-street, and, entering it, he traversed it with considerable
difficulty--for the narrow thoroughfares were much fuller of rubbish,
and much less freed from smoke and fiery vapour, than the wider--until
he reached a part of it with which he had once been well acquainted.
But, alas! how changed was that familiar spot. The house he sought was a
mere heap of ruins. While gazing at them, he heard a voice behind him,
and turning, beheld Mr. Bloundel and his son Stephen, forcing their way
through what had once been Maiden-lane. A warm greeting passed between
them, and Mr. Bloundel gazed for some time in silence upon the wreck of
his dwelling. Tears forced themselves into his eyes, and his companions
were no less moved. As he turned to depart, he observed to the young man
with some severity:
"How is it, Leonard, that I see you in this gay apparel? Surely, the
present is not a fitting season for such idle display."
Lord Argentine, for such it was, now explained to the wonder-stricken
grocer all that had occurred to him, adding that he had intended coming
to him that very day, if he had not been thus anticipated, to give him
the present explanation.
"And where are Farmer Wingfield and Blaize?" asked Mr. Bloundel. "We
have been extremely uneasy at your prolonged absence."
"They are both at the palace," replied Lord Argentine, "and have both
been laid up with slight injuries received during the conflagration; but
I believe--nay, I am sure--they will get out to-day."
"That is well," replied Mr. Bloundel; "and now let me congratulate you,
Leonard--that is, my lord--how strange such a title sounds!--on your new
dignity.
"And accept my congratulations, too, my lord," said Stephen.
"Oh! do not style me thus," said Argentine. "With you, at least, let me
be ever Leonard Holt."
"You are still my old apprentice, I see," cried the grocer, warmly
grasping his hand.
"And such I shall ever continue in feeling," returned the other,
cordially returning the pressure.
Three days after this, Lord Argentine was united to the Lady
Isabella.--the king, as he had promised, giving away the bride. The Earl
of Rochester was present, together with the grocer and his wife, and the
whole of their family. Another marriage also took place on the same day
between Blaize and Patience. Both unions, it is satisfactory to be able
to state, were extremely happy, though it would be uncandid not to
mention, that in the latter case, to use a homely but expressive phrase,
"the grey mare proved the better horse." Blaize, however, was
exceedingly content under his government. He settled at Willesden with
his wife, where they lived to a good old age, and where some of his
descendants may still be found.
Mr. Bloundel sustained only a trifling loss by the fire. Another house
was erected on the site of the old habitation, where he carried on his
business as respectably and as profitably as before, until, in the
course of nature, he was gathered to his fathers, and succeeded by his
son Stephen, leaving an unblemished character behind him as a legacy to
his family. Nor was it his only legacy, in a worldly sense, for his time
had not been misspent, and he had well-husbanded his money. All his
family turned out well, and were successful in the world. Stephen rose
to the highest civic dignities, and the younger obtained great
distinction. Their daughter Christiana became Lady Argentine, being
wedded to the eldest son of the baron and baroness.
Mike Macascree, the piper, and Bell, found a happy asylum with the same
noble family.
As to Lord and Lady Argentine, theirs was a life of uninterrupted
happiness. Devotedly attached to her lord, the Lady Isabella seemed only
to live for him, and he well repaid her affection. By sedulously
cultivating his talents and powers, which were considerable, he was
enabled to reflect credit upon the high rank to which it had pleased a
grateful sovereign to elevate him. He lived to see the new cathedral
completed by Sir Christopher Wren, and often visited it with feelings of
admiration, but never with the same sentiments of veneration and awe
that he had experienced when, in times long gone by, he had repaired to
OLD SAINT PAUL'S.
THE END.
End of Project Gutenberg's Old Saint Paul's, by William Harrison Ainsworth