GREECE. Clime of the unforgotten brave! For freedom's battle once begun, BYRON. 1666. 2d. Sept. This fatal night about ten began that deplorable fire near Fish Street in London. 3d. The fire continuing, after dinner, I took coach with my wife and son and went to the Bank side in Southwark, where we beheld that dismal spectacle, the whole city in dreadful flames near ye water side; all the houses from the Bridge, all Thames Street, and upwards towards Cheapside, down to the Three Cranes, were now consum'd. The fire having continu'd all this night (if I may call that night which was light as day for 10 miles round about, after a dreadful manner), when conspiring with a fierce eastern wind, in a very dry season, I went on foot to the same place, and saw the whole south part of ye city burning from Cheapside to ye Thames, and all along Cornhill (for it kindl'd back against ye wind as well as forward), Tower Street, Fenchurch Street, Gracious Street, and so along to Bainard Castle, and was now taking hold of St. Paul's church, to which the scaffolds contributed exceedingly. 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 seen 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 street to street, at great distances one from ye other; for ye heat with a long set of fair and warm weather had even ignited the air, and prepar'd the materials to conceive the fire, which devour'd, after an incredible manner, houses, furniture, and everything. Here we saw the Thames cover'd with goods floating, all the barges and boats laden with what some had time and courage to save, as, on ye other, ye 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 happily the world had not seen the like since the foundation of it, nor be outdone till the general conflagration. All the sky was of a fiery aspect, like the top of a burning oven, the light seen above 40 miles round about for many nights. God grant my eyes may never behold the like, now seeing above 10,000 houses all in one flame: the noise, and cracking, and thunder of the impetuous flames; ye shrieking of women and children, the hurry of people, the fall of towers, houses, and churches, was like an hideous storm, and the air all about so hot, and inflam'd, that at last one was not able to approach it, so that they were forced to stand still and let ye flames burn on, which they did for near two miles in length and one in breadth. The clouds of smoke were dismal, and reach'd upon computation near 50 miles in length. Thus I left it this afternoon burning, a resemblance of Sodom or the last day. London was, but is no more. 4th. The fire still rages, and it was now gone as far as the Inner Temple, and all Fleet Street, the Old Bailey, Ludgate Hill, Warwick Lane, Newgate, Paul's Chain, Watling Street, now flaming, and most of it reduc'd to ashes; the stones of St. Paul's flew up like granados, ye melting lead running down the streets in a stream, and the very pavements glowing with fiery redness, so as no horse or man was able to tread on them, and the demolition had stopp'd all the passages, so that no help could be applied. The eastern wind still more impetuously drove the flames forward. Nothing but ye Almighty power of God was able to stay them, for vain was ye help of man. 5th. It crossed towards Whitehall: Oh the confusion there was then at that court! It pleased the king to command me among ye rest to look after the quenching of Fetter Lane end, to preserve if possible that part of Holborn, whilst the rest of ye gentlemen took their several posts (for now they began to bestir themselves, and not till now, who hitherto had stood as men intoxicated, with their hands across), and began to consider that nothing was likely to put a stop but the blowing of so many houses, as might make a wider gap than any that had yet been made by the ordinary method of pulling them down with engines; this some stout seamen propos'd early enough to have sav'd near ye whole city, but this some tenacious and avaricious men, aldermen, &c., would not permit, because their houses must have been of the first. It was therefore now commanded to be practis'd, and my concern being particularly for the hospital of St. Bartholomew, near Smithfield, where I had many wounded and sick men, made me the more diligent to promote it, nor was my care for the Savoy less. It now pleased God by the abating the wind, and by the industry of ye people, infusing a new spirit into them, that the fury of it began sensibly to abate about noon, so as it came no farther than ye Temple westward, nor than ye entrance of Smithfield north. But continu'd all this day and night so impetuous towards Cripplegate and the Tower, as made us all despair; it also broke out again in the Temple, but the courage of the multitude persisting, and many houses being blown up, such gaps and desolations were soon made, as with the former three days' consumption, the back fire did not so vehemently urge upon the rest as formerly. There was yet no standing near the burning and glowing ruins by near a furlong's space. The coals and wood wharves and magazines of oil, resin, &c., did infinite mischief, so as the invective which a little before I had dedicated to the king, and publish'd, giving warning what might probably be the issue of suffering those shops to be in the city, was look'd upon as a prophecy. The poor inhabitants were dispers'd about St. George's Fields, and Moorfields, as far as Highgate, and several miles in circle, some under tents, some under miserable huts and hovels, many without a rag or any necessary utensils, bed or board, who, from delicateness, riches, and easy accommodation in stately and well furnish'd houses, were now reduced to extremest misery and poverty. In this calamitous condition I return'd with a sad heart to my house, blessing and adoring the mercy of God to me and mine, who in the midst of all this ruin was like Lot, in my little Zoar, safe and sound. 7th. I went this morning on foot from Whitehall |