London for the week ending June 27th was 684, of which number 267
were deaths from the plague. The number of deaths rose week by week
until September 19th, when the total was 8,297, and the deaths from
the plague 7,165. On September 26th the total had fallen to 6,460, and
deaths from the plague to 5,533. The number fell gradually, week by
week, till October 31st, when the total was 1,388, and the deaths from
the plague 1,031. On November 7th there was a rise to 1,787 and 1,414
respectively. On November 14th the numbers had gone down to 1,359 and
1,050 respectively. On December 12th the total had fallen to 442, and
deaths from plague to 243. On December 19th there was a rise to 525 and
281 respectively. The total of burials in 1665 was 97,306, of which
number the plague claimed 68,596 victims. Most of the inhabitants of
London who could get away took the first opportunity of escaping from
the town, and in 1665 there were many places that the Londoner could
visit with considerable chance of safety. The court went to Oxford, and
afterwards came back to Hampton Court before venturing to return to
Whitehall. The clergy and the doctors fled with very few exceptions,
and several of those who stayed in town doing the duty of others, as
well as their own, fell victims to the scourge.
Queen Elizabeth would have none of these removals. Stow says that
in the time of the plague of 1563, "a gallows was set up in the
Market-place of Windsor to hang all such as should come there from
London."
Dr. Hodges, author of _Loimologia_, enumerates among those who assisted
in the dangerous work of restraining the progress of the infection were
the learned Dr. Gibson, Regius Professor at Cambridge; Dr. Francis
Glisson, Dr. Nathaniel Paget, Dr. Peter Barwick, Dr. Humphrey Brookes,
etc. Of those he mentions eight or nine fell in their work, among whom
was Dr. William Conyers, to whose goodness and humanity he bears the
most honourable testimony. Dr. Alexander Burnett, of Fenchurch Street,
one of Pepys's friends, was another of the victims.
Of those to whom honour is due special mention must be made of Monk,
Duke of Albemarle, Evelyn, Pepys, Edmond Berry Godfrey; and there were,
of course, others.
The Duke of Albemarle stayed at the Cockpit; Evelyn sent his wife and
family to Wotton, but he remained in town himself, and had very arduous
duties to perform, for he was responsible for finding food and lodging
for the prisoners of war, and he found it difficult to get money for
these purposes. He tells in his _Diary_ how he was received by Charles
II. and the Duke of York on January 29th, 1665-6, when the pestilence
had partly abated and the court had ventured from Oxford to Hampton
Court. The King
"... ran towards me, and in a most gracious manner gave
me his hand to kisse, with many thanks for my care and
faithfulnesse in his service in a time of such greate danger,
when everybody fled their employment; he told me he was much
obliged to me, and said he was several times concerned for me,
and the peril I underwent, and did receive my service most
acceptably (though in truth I did but do my duty, and O that
I had performed it as I ought!) After that his Majesty was
pleased to talke with me alone, neere an houre, of severall
particulars of my employment and ordered me to attend him
againe on the Thursday following at Whitehall. Then the Duke
came towards me, and embraced me with much kindnesse, telling
me if he had thought my danger would have been so greate,
he would not have suffered his Majesty to employ me in that
station."
Pepys refers, on May 1st, 1667, to his visit to Sir Robert Viner's, the
eminent goldsmith, where he saw "two or three great silver flagons,
made with inscriptions as gifts of the King to such and such persons
of quality as did stay in town [during] the late plague for keeping
things in order in the town, which is a handsome thing." Godfrey was
a recipient of a silver tankard, and he was knighted by the King in
September, 1666, for his efforts to preserve order in the Great Fire.
The remembrance of his death, which had so great an influence on the
spread of the "Popish Plot" terror, is greater than that of his public
spirit during the plague and the fire.
Pepys lived at Greenwich and Woolwich during the height of the plague,
but he was constantly in London. How much these men must have suffered
is brought very visibly before us in one of the best letters Pepys ever
wrote:
"To Lady Casteret, from Woolwich, Sept. 4, 1655. The absence
of the court and emptiness of the city takes away all occasion
of news, save only such melancholy stories as would rather
sadden than find your ladyship any divertissement in the
hearing. I have stayed in the city till about 7,400 died in
one week, and of them above 6,000 of the plague, and little
noise heard day or night but tolling of bells; till I could
walk Lumber Street and not meet twenty persons from one end to
the other, and not fifty on the Exchange; till whole families
have been swept away; till my very physician, Dr. Burnett, who
undertook to secure me against any infection, having survived
the month of his own house being shut up, died himself of the
plague; till the nights, though much lengthened, are grown
too short to conceal the burials of those that died the day
before, people thereby constrained to borrow daylight for that
service; lastly, till I could find neither meat nor drink
safe, the butchers being everywhere visited, my brewer's house
shut up, and my baker, with his whole family, dead of the
plague."
[Illustration: THE GREAT FIRE OF LONDON.
_The view shows Ludgate in the foreground, and in the distance St.
Paul's Cathedral and the Tower of St. Mary-le-Bow._]
Before the first calamity of pestilence was ended the second calamity
of fire commenced. On the night of September 1st, 1666, many houses
were destroyed. At three o'clock in the morning of the 2nd (Sunday)
his servant Jane awoke Pepys to tell him that a great fire was raging.
Not thinking much of the information, he went to sleep again, but when
he rose at seven he found that about 300 houses had been burned in the
night. He went first to the Tower, and saw the Lieutenant. Then he took
boat to Whitehall to see the King. He tells of what he has seen, and
says that, unless His Majesty will command houses to be pulled down,
nothing can stop the fire. On hearing this the King instructs him to
go to the Lord Mayor (Sir Thomas Bludworth) and command him to pull
down houses in every direction. The Mayor seems to have been but a poor
creature, and when he heard 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.'"
Fortunately, most of the Londoners were more vigorous than the Mayor.
The King and the Duke of York interested themselves in the matter, and
did their best to help those who were busy in trying to stop the fire.
Evelyn wrote on September 6th:--
"It is not indeede imaginable how extraordinary the vigilance
and activity of the King and the Duke was, even labouring
in person, and being present to command, order, reward, or
encourage workmen, by which he showed his affection to his
people and gained theirs."
Sir William Penn and Pepys were ready in resource, and saw to the
blowing up of houses to check the spread of the flames, the former
bringing workmen out of the dockyards to help in the work. During the
period when it was expected that the Navy Office would be destroyed,
Pepys sent off his money, plate, and most treasured property to Sir
W. Rider, at Bethnal Green, and then he and Penn dug a hole in their
garden, in which they put their wine and parmezan cheese.
On the 10th of September, Sir W. Rider let it be known that, as the
town is full of the report respecting the wealth in his house, he will
be glad if his friends will provide for the safety of their property
elsewhere.
On September 5th, when Evelyn went to Whitehall, the King commanded him
"... among the rest to looke after the quenching of Fetter
Lane end, to preserve if possible that part of Holborn, whilst
the rest of y^e gentlemen tooke their several posts, some
at one part, some at another (for now they began to bestir
themselves and not till now, who hitherto had stood as men
intoxicated with their hands acrosse) and began to consider
that nothing was likely to put a stop but the blowing up of
so many houses as might make a wider gap than any had yet
been made by the ordinary method of pulling them downe with
engines."
The daily records of the fire and of the movements of the people are
most striking. Now we see the river crowded with boats filled with the
goods of those who are houseless, and then we pass to Moorfields, where
are crowds carrying their belongings about with them, and doing their
best to keep these separate till some huts can be built to receive
them. Soon paved streets and two-storey houses were seen in Moorfields,
the city authorities having let the land on leases for seven years.
The wearied people complained that their feet were "ready to burn"
through walking in the streets "among the hot coals."
(September 5th, 1666.) Means were provided to save the unfortunate
multitudes from starvation, and on this same day proclamation was made
"... ordering that for the supply of the distressed persons
left destitute ... great proportions of bread be brought
daily, not only to the former markets, but to those lately
ordained. Churches and public places were to be thrown open
for the reception of poor people and their goods."
Westminster Hall was filled with "people's goods."
On September 7th Evelyn went towards Islington and Highgate
"... where one might have seen 200,000 people of all ranks
and degrees dispers'd and lying along by their heapes of what
they could save from the fire, deploring their losse, and tho'
ready to perish for hunger and destitution yet not asking one
penny for reliefe, which to me appear'd a stranger sight than
any I had yet beheld."
The fire was fairly got under on September 7th, but on the previous
day Clothworkers' Hall was burning, as it had been for three days and
nights, in one volume of flame. This was caused by the cellars being
full of oil. How long the streets remained in a dangerous condition
may be guessed by Pepys's mention, on May 16th, 1666-7, of the smoke
issuing from the cellars in the ruined streets of London.
The fire consumed about five-sixths of the whole city, and outside the
walls a space was cleared about equal to an oblong square of a mile and
a half in length and half a mile in breadth. Well might Evelyn say, "I
went againe to y^e ruines for it was no longer a citty" (September
10th, 1666).
The destruction was fearful, and the disappearance of the grand old
Cathedral of St. Paul's was among the most to be regretted of the
losses. One reads these particulars with a sort of dulled apathy, and
it requires such a terribly realistic picture as the following, by
Evelyn, to bring the scene home to us in all its magnitude and horror:
"The conflagration was so universal, and the people so
astonish'd, that from the beginning I know not by what
despondency or fate, they hardly stirr'd to quench it, so
that there was nothing heard or seene but crying out and
lamentation, running about like distracted creatures without
at all attempting to save even their goods; such a strange
consternation there was upon them, so as it burned both in
breadth and length, the churches, public halls, Exchange,
hospitals, monuments and ornaments, leaping after a prodigious
manner, from house to house, and streete to streete, at greate
distances one from y^e other; for y^e heat with a long
set of faire and warm weather had even ignited the aire and
prepared the materials to conceive the fire, which devour'd
after an incredible manner houses, furniture, and every thing.
Here we saw the Thames cover'd with goods floating, all the
barges and boates laden with what some had time and courage to
save, as, on y^e other, y^e carts, &c., carrying out to
the fields, which for many miles were strew'd with moveables
of all sorts, and tents erecting to shelter both people
and what goods they could get away. Oh the miserable and
calamitous spectacle! Such as haply the world had not seene
since the foundation of it, nor be outdon till the universal
conflagration thereof. All the skie was of a fiery aspect,
like the top of a burning oven, and the light seene above 40
miles round about for many nights. God grant mine eyes may
never behold the like, who now saw above 10,000 houses all in
one flame; the noise and cracking and thunder of the impetuous
flames, y^e shrieking of women and children, the hurry of
people, the fall of towers, houses and churches was like a
hideous storme and the aire all about so hot and inflam'd that
at the last one was not able to approach it, so that they were
forc'd to stand still and let y^e flames burn on, which they
did neere two miles in length and one in breadth. The clouds
also of smoke were dismall and reach'd upon computation neer
50 miles in length. Thus I left it this afternoone burning, a
resemblance of Sodom, or the last day. It forcibly call'd to
mind that passage--_non enim hic habemus stabilem civitatem_:
the ruines resembling the picture of Troy. London was, but is
no more."--(Sept. 3rd, 1666.)
Can we be surprised at the bewildered feelings of the people? Rather
must we admire the practical and heroic conduct of the homeless
multitude. It took long to rebuild the city, but directly anything
could be done the workers were up and doing.
An Act of Parliament was passed "for erecting a Judicature for
determination of differences touching Houses burned or demolished by
reason of the late Fire which happened in London" (18 and 19 Car. II.,
cap. 7), and Sir Matthew Hale was the moving spirit in the planning it
and in carrying out its provisions when it was passed. Burnet affirms
that it was through his judgment and foresight "that the whole city
was raised out of its ashes without any suits of law" (_History of
his Own Time_, Book ii.). By a subsequent Act (18 and 19 Car. II.,
cap. 8) the machinery for a satisfactory rebuilding of the city was
arranged. The rulings of the judges appointed by these Acts gave
general satisfaction, and after a time the city was rebuilt very much
on the old lines, and things went on as before.[10] At one time it was
supposed that the fire would cause a westward march of trade, but the
city asserted the old supremacy when it was rebuilt.
[Illustration: SOUTH-WEST VIEW OF OLD ST. PAUL'S.]
Three great men, thoroughly competent to give valuable advice on the
rebuilding of the city, viz., Wren, Robert Hooke, and Evelyn, presented
to the King valuable plans for the best mode of arranging the new
streets, but none of these schemes was accepted. One cannot but regret
that the proposals of the great architect were not carried out.
With the reference to the Plague and the Great Fire we may conclude
this brief account of the later Stuart London. The picturesque, but
dirty, houses were replaced by healthier and cleaner ones. The West
End increased and extended its borders, but the growth to the north of
Piccadilly was very gradual. All periods have their chroniclers, but
no period has produced such delightful guides to the actual life of
the town as the later half of the seventeenth century did in the pages
of Evelyn and Pepys. It must ever be a sincere regret to all who love
to understand the more intimate side of history that Pepys did not
continue his _Diary_ to a later period. We must, however, be grateful
for what we possess, and I hope this slight and imperfect sketch of
Pepys's London may refresh the memories of my readers as to what the
London of that time was really like.
FOOTNOTES:
[6] _Cal. State Papers_, 1603-10, p. 367.
[7] During the time that the Jacobites were formidable, and long after,
it was firmly believed that the Old Pretender was brought into this
room as a baby in a warming pan, and plans of the room were common to
show how the fraud was committed.
[8] _Rariora_, vol. i., p. 17.
[9] Originally the crosses were of a blue colour, but Dr. Creighton
says that the colour was changed to red before the plague of 1603.
[10] A full account of the fire and of the rebuilding of the city has
still to be written, and the materials for the latter are to hand in
the remarkable "Fire Papers" in the British Museum. I have long desired
to work on this congenial subject, but having been prevented by other
duties from doing so, I hope that some London expert will be induced
to give the public a general idea of the contents of these valuable
collections.
THE OLD LONDON BRIDGES
BY J. TAVENOR-PERRY
"London Bridge is broken down,
Dance o'er my Lady Lee.
London Bridge is broken down
With a gay Ladee."
At the beginning of the last century only three bridges spanned the
Thames in its course through London, and of these two were scarcely
fifty years old; but before the century closed there were no less
than thirteen bridges across the river between Battersea and the
Pool. The three old bridges have been rebuilt, and even some of the
later ones have been reconstructed, whilst one has been removed
bodily, and now spans the gorge of the Avon at Bristol. Of all these
bridges unfortunately only two are constructed wholly of stone, and
can lay claim to any architectural merit; and even one of these two
has recently had the happy effect of its graceful arches destroyed by
the addition of overhanging pathways. Of the rest, some are frankly
utilitarian--mere iron girder railway bridges, with no attempt at
decoration beyond gilding the rivets--whilst the others have their
iron arches and construction disguised with coarse and meaningless
ornaments. One only of the iron bridges is in anyway worthy of its
position; in its perfect simplicity and the bold spans of its three
arches, Southwark Bridge bears comparison with the best in Europe, but
the gradients and approaches are so inconvenient that it is even now
threatened with reconstruction.
[Illustration: SIR JOHN EVELYN'S PLAN FOR REBUILDING LONDON AFTER THE
GREAT FIRE.]
Exactly when the first bridge was built across the Thames at London
we can only surmise, for even tradition is silent on the subject, and
we only know of the existence of one at an early date by very casual
references, which, however, do not help us to realise the character
of the work. Though no evidence remains of a Roman bridge, it seems
unlikely, having regard to the importance of London, and to the fact
that the great roads from the south coast converged on a point opposite
to it, on the other side of the river, that they should have been left
to end there without a bridge to carry them over. The difficulties of
building across a great tidal river had not prevented the Romans from
bridging the Medway at Rochester, as remains actually discovered have
proved; and if no evidences of Roman work were actually met with in the
rebuilding of London Bridge or the removal of the old one, this may be
due to the fact that each successive bridge--and there have been at
least three within historical times--was built some distance further up
the stream than its predecessor.
We know, however, with certainty that a bridge was standing in the
reign of King Ethelred from the references made to it, and we may
fairly assume that this must have been the Roman bridge, at least so
far as its main construction was concerned; and, like other Roman
bridges standing at that time in Gaul and in other parts of England, it
would have consisted merely of piers of masonry, with a wooden roadway
passing from one to the other. It was still standing, of sufficient
strength for resistance, when the Danes under Canute sailed up the
river, who, being unable to force a passage, tradition says--and
antiquaries have imagined they could discover traces of it--cut a ship
canal through the Surrey marshes from Bermondsey to Battersea, and
passed their fleet through that way.
[Illustration: FIG. 1--THE UNDERCROFT OF ST. THOMAS OF CANTERBURY ON
THE BRIDGE.]
The history of the bridge only opens with the beginning of the twelfth
century. According to tradition, the convent of St. Mary Overie,
Southwark, had been originally endowed with the profits of a ferry
across the river, and had in consequence undertaken the duty of
maintaining the bridge in a proper state of repair when a bridge was
built. This convent was refounded in 1106 as a priory of Austin Canons;
and it is not a little remarkable, having regard to the duties it had
undertaken, that of its founders, who were two Norman Knights, one was
William de Pont de l'Arche. At the Norman town, where stood his castle
and from which he took his name, was a bridge of twenty-two openings,
erected, it was said, by Charles the Bald, but most likely a Roman
work, across the Seine at the highest point reached by the tide. It
is a further curious coincidence that this same William appears as a
witness to a deed executed by Henry I., excusing the manor of Alciston,
in Sussex, from paying any dues for the repairs of London Bridge.
It is recorded that in 1136 the bridge was burnt, which may perhaps
merely mean that the deck was destroyed, whilst the piers remained
sufficiently uninjured to allow of the structure being repaired; but
in 1163 it had become so dangerous that Peter of Colechurch undertook
the erection of a new bridge, which he constructed of elm timber. This
sudden emergence of Peter from obscurity to carry out so important an
engineering work is as dramatic as is that of St. Bénezet, who founded
the confraternity of _Hospitaliers pontifices_, which undertook the
building of bridges and the establishment of ferries. According to
legend, this saint, although then only a young shepherd, essayed to
bridge the Rhone at Avignon, and the ruined arches of his great work
are still among the sights of that city. Peter may have possessed
many more qualifications for building than a shepherd could have
acquired, as large ecclesiastical works were in progress in London
throughout his life, which he must have observed and perhaps profited
by; but this is only surmise, as of his history, except in connection
with his great work, we know no more than the fact that he was the
chaplain of St. Mary Colechurch. His contemporary, Randulphus de
Decito, Dean of London, says that he was a native of the city, so
that it is scarcely likely that he had acquired his skill abroad; but
we are told that he traversed the country to collect the moneys for
his undertaking, and he may thus have obtained some knowledge of the
many Roman bridges which still survived, or even have seen the great
bridge which Bishop Flambard had recently erected across the Wear
at Durham. His selection as the architect of the earlier bridge of
1163 may perhaps not be due in any way to his especial engineering
skill, but rather to some intimate connection with the priory of St.
Mary Overie, whose canons were primarily responsible for the bridge
repairs; indeed, since he is merely described as the chaplain of his
church, he may himself have been one of the canons. But be the cause
what it may--and it was not his success in erecting this first bridge,
for it soon became dilapidated--thirteen years after its erection he
started afresh, on a site further up the river, to erect a bridge of
stone. In 1176, two years before St. Bénezet began his great bridge at
Avignon, he commenced his work, and thirty-three years passed before
its completion. Whether the delay was due to lack of funds or the
incapacity of the architect we do not know, though probably to both,
for before Peter's death King John, who had manifested considerable
interest in the new bridge, had urged Peter's dismissal, and, under the
advice of the Archbishop of Canterbury, suggested the appointment of
Isembert of Saintes to complete the work. This Isembert was credited
with the erection of the great bridge across the Charante at Saintes,
although that bridge was undoubtedly a Roman one, and all he appears to
have done was to turn arches between the original piers, and make it a
stone bridge throughout. The same master was said to have built another
bridge at La Rochelle, and had evidently gained much experience in
such engineering work; and it is perhaps a misfortune that the King's
advice was neglected, as a skilled architect, which Peter certainly
was not, might have saved the city of London much eventual loss and
trouble. Peter was, however, suffered to continue the bridge until his
death in 1205, when a commission of three city merchants completed the
work in four years.