THE GREAT FIRE OF 1666.

The fire of London broke out on Sunday morning, September 2, 1666,

O.S., and being impelled by strong winds, raged with irresistible fury

nearly four days and nights; nor was it entirely mastered till the fifth

morning after it began. The conflagration commenced at the house of one

Farryner, a baker, in Pudding-lane, near [New] Fish-street-hill, and

within ten houses of Thames-street, into which it spread within a few

hours; nearly the whole of the contiguous buildings being of timber,

lath, and plaster, and the whole neighbourhood presenting little else

than closely confined passages and narrow alleys. The fire quickly

spread, and was not to be conquered by any human means, "Then, (says

a contemporary writer,) then the city did shake indeed, and the

inhabitants did tremble, and flew away in great amazement from their

houses, lest the flames should devour them: _rattle, rattle, rattle_,

was the noise which the fire struck upon the ear round about, as if

there had been a thousand iron chariots beating upon the stones. You

might see the houses _tumble, tumble, tumble_, from one end of the

street to the other, with a great crash, leaving the foundations open

to the view of the heavens."[5]

The destructive fury of this conflagration was never, perhaps, exceeded

in any part of the world, by any fire originating in accident. _Within

the walls_, it consumed almost five-sixths of the whole city; and

_without_ the walls it cleared a space nearly as extensive as the

one-sixth part left unburnt within. Scarcely a single building that came

within the range of the flames was left standing. Public buildings,

churches, and dwelling-houses, were alike involved in one common fate.

In the summary account of this vast devastation, given in one of the

inscriptions on the Monument, and which was drawn up from the reports of

the surveyors appointed after the fire, it is stated, that "The ruins of

the city were 436 acres, [viz. 333 acres within the walls, and 63 in the

liberties of the city;] that, of the six-and-twenty wards, it utterly

destroyed fifteen, and left eight others shattered and half burnt;

and that it consumed 400 streets, 13,200 dwelling-houses, 89 churches

[besides chapels; 4 of] the city gates, Guildhall, many public

structures, hospitals, schools, libraries, and a vast number of stately

edifices." The immense property destroyed in this dreadful time cannot

be estimated at less than _ten millions_ sterling. Amid all the

confusion and multiplied dangers that arose from the fire, it does not

appear that more than _six_ persons lost their lives. Calamitous as were

the immediate consequences of this dreadful fire, its _remote effects_

have proved an incalculable blessing to subsequent generations. To

this conflagration may be attributed the complete destruction of the

_plague_, which, the year before only, swept off 68,590 persons!! To

this tremendous fire we owe most of our grand public structures--the

regularity and beauty of our streets--and, finally, the great salubrity

and extreme cleanliness of a large part of the city of London.

In relation to this awful calamity we add the following remarks:--Heaven

be praised (says Mr. Malcolm[6]) old London _was burnt_. Good reader,

turn to the ancient prints, in order to see what it has been; observe

those hovels convulsed; imagine the chambers within them, and wonder why

the plague, the leprosy, and the sweating-sickness raged. Turn then to

the prints illustrative of our present dwellings, and be happy. The

misery of 1665 must have operated on the minds of the legislature and

the citizens, when they rebuilt and inhabited their houses. The former

enacted many salutary clauses for the preservation of health, and would

have done more, had not the public rejected that which was for their

benefit; those who preferred high habitations and narrow dark streets

had them. It is only to be lamented that we are compelled to suffer for

their folly. These errors are now frequently partially removed by the

exertion of the Corporation of London; but a complete reformation is

impossible. It is to the improved dwellings composed of brick, the

wainscot or papered walls, the high ceilings, the boarded floors, and

large windows, and cleanliness, that we are indebted for the general

preservation of health since 1666. From that auspicious year the very

existence of the natives of London improved; their bodies moved in a

large space of pure air; and, finding every thing clean and new around

them, they determined to keep them so. Previously-unknown luxuries and

improvements in furniture were suggested; and a man of moderate fortune

saw his house vie with, nay, superior to, the old palaces of his

governors. When he paced his streets, he felt the genial western breeze

pass him, rich with the perfumes of the country, instead of the stench

described by Erasmus; and looking upward, he beheld the beautiful blue

of the air, variegated with fleecy clouds, in place of projecting black

beams and plaster, obscured by vapour and smoke.

The streets of London must have been dangerously dark during the winter

nights before it was burnt; lanterns with candles were very sparingly

scattered, nor was light much better distributed even in the new streets

previously to the 18th century. Globular lamps were introduced by

Michael Cole, who obtained a patent in July, 1708.

We conclude the illustrations of this day with a singular opinion of the

author just quoted. Speaking of the burning of London, he says, "This

subject may be allowed to be familiar to me, and I have perhaps had more

than common means of judging; and I now declare it to be my full and

decided opinion, that London _was burnt by government, to annihilate the

plague_, which was grafted in every crevice of the hateful old houses

composing it."

[5] The progress of the fire might have been stopped, but for the

foolish conduct of the Lord Mayor, who refused to give orders

for pulling down some houses, _without the consent of the

owners_. Buckets and engines were of no use, from the confined

state of the streets.

[6] "Anecdotes of the Manners and Customs of London in the

Eighteenth Century," vol. ii. p. 378.

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The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 10, No. 271, September 1, 1827 · 第 6 / 26 题