THREE
TAKING STOCK
In three days the most flourishing city in the world is a ruinous heap, the streets only to be known by the maimed remainder of the churches.
Letter to Philip Pedder, 13 September 1666, Calendar of State Papers Domestic, 1666â7, p. 122
A disaster on the scale of the Great Fire created immediate and massive problems. Some of them were practical matters similar to those which followed any large-scale urban fire. Provision had to be made for the homeless before the winter, for example, both in terms of accommodation and cash assistance for those left destitute. Yet the citizens who were best able to provide poor relief were themselves among the victims. This was one reason that it was necessary to establish the scale of the losses, by individuals taking stock of their own position and by the City authorities assessing the overall extent of the damage. But because of Londonâs unique role there were further, political, considerations, which did not apply after such catastrophes elsewhere. It was advisable that the causes of the conflagration be investigated, if only to ensure that the citizensâ initial xenophobic reaction would not lead them to prolong their search for scapegoats, perhaps even turn their anger against the government itself. This was not the only problem facing the government, however, for the fire inevitably had some effect upon its own operations and the conduct of the war against the United Provinces and France.
Even more immediate than these concerns was the possibility that the fire could begin again if the wind sprang up. Both Pepys and Taswell remarked how hot the ground was when they walked through the ruined area on Wednesday and Thursday, and on Friday Evelyn found himself climbing over âmountaines of yet smoking rubbishâ, with his hair almost singed and his feet made sore by the heat.1 The initial priority, therefore, was to make things safe by moving stocks of fuel out of the burnt area, clearing the streets and damping down the smouldering ruins. The task was eased by the rain that fell on the Sunday following the fire. A longer spell of rain, lasting for ten days, came in October, finally dousing the embers.
Those who ventured among the ruins soon after the fire had ended were struck by the completeness of the destruction. Most of the buildings had collapsed, so that it was almost possible to see from one side of the City to the other, and the river was visible from Cheapside.2 The masonry of many of the churches and some of the company halls still stood, although a number of churches, such as St Mary-le-Bow, were completely ruined. Those which were recognisable were invaluable as landmarks in the confusion of wreckage and rubbish. Some of the buildings had fallen into the streets and Evelyn found that the lanes and narrower streets were âquite fillâd up with rubbishâ. The heat had been so intense that the church bells had melted, as had the chains along the streets and the hinges, bars and gates of the prisons. Scavengers searching through the ruins found lumps of metal âmixed together and out of shapeâ. As Evelyn looked over the ruins of St Paulâs he was shocked to see that not only had the bells melted, but so too had the large area of lead from the roof, the ironwork and the plate.3
Letters sent from London describing this calamity reached a readership anxious for accurate news. Word of the fire had spread rapidly. It had reached the neighbourhood of Hungerford by Tuesday and by Friday a rumour was circulating that 60,000 Presbyterians, with French and Dutch, had been up in arms during the fire and the kingâs forces had defeated them, killing 30,000 and taking many others prisoner. This nonsense was contradicted by a more reliable source of intelligence.4 Yet many who heard of the fire assumed at once that it had been started deliberately, by âimplacable enemiesâ or âAnabaptists and other disaffected personsâ. At Newcastle it was observed that the meetings of Quakers and other sectaries had been well attended recently âand little care is taken to hinder themâ. In many places the militia were called out in case the fire was part of a wider plan, perhaps a âhellish contrivanceâ of the French, Dutch and fanatics. This fear was so widespread that âall townes stood upon their owne defence day and nightâ. The militia were still keeping a watch at Barnstaple on 11 September, because of a report that the plot was aimed not only at London, but at the destruction of the principal towns and cities in England. The governor of Hull set a strong guard and in Norwich the innkeepers were instructed not to lodge strangers until they had been questioned by the mayor, nor to allow them to leave the city without his order.
These anxieties were strengthened by rumours that began to circulate of fires elsewhere. Minor outbreaks now received considerable notice, such as a blaze in two houses in Bridgwater and one in a tannerâs kiln in Chester, both of which were quenched with little damage. Fear of arsonists was rife, with suspects thrown into prison in Leicester and reports that suspicious persons seized near Lutterworth were carrying fire-balls as big as tennis balls. A rumour that a man had been seen handling a fire-ball near Warwick caused âthe whole townâ to take to the streets, and the crowd had to be dispersed by the militia. Anthony Wood noted that two fires near Oxford on successive days soon after the Great Fire had been started deliberately.5
Such sharp reactions to the news of the fire were exacerbated by the lack of reliable information. The post office in Cloak Lane, off Dowgate Hill, was in the area burnt out on Monday morning and the consequent breakdown of the postal service with London raised suspicions that something was awry. Those who had received the 3 September issue of The London Gazette would have seen a short, but alarming, note to the effect that a major fire had broken out which had already blazed for two nights and a day and was continuing to burn âwith great violenceâ. This was enough to set its readersâ imaginations racing, especially as no further issue appeared for a week. That number, for 3â10 September, began by explaining that publication had been interrupted âby a Sad and Lamentable Accident of Fire lately hapned in the City of Londonâ. In fact, the premises of its printer, Thomas Newcombe, were close to Baynardâs Castle and had been destroyed.6
The Gazette was managed by Joseph Williamson, Lord Arlingtonâs secretary, and the account of the fire printed in the issue of 10 September was effectively an official statement. Readers certainly seem to have regarded it as authoritative and welcomed it as providing hard news âafter such a diversity of reportsâ. It gave an account of the early stages of the fire and its subsequent progress, describing the efforts made to check the flames and stressing the role of the royal brothers. The measures that the king had taken for supplying the homeless with provisions were also noted, together with the extent of the citizensâ gratitude for his efforts. While admitting the arrest of âDivers Strangersâ during the fire and announcing an enquiry into its causes, the report was at pains to stress that the fire was an accident. The way in which the flames had behaved in the strong wind led to the conclusion that the disaster was the result of âan unhappy chance, or to speak better, the heavy hand of God upon us for our Sins, shewing us the terrour of his Judgmentâ not only in raising the fire, but also in stopping it âwhen we were in the last despairâ.
This point that the fire was a divine judgement was one which was widely accepted. Classical and biblical parallels with Troy and Jerusalem immediately sprang to mind, but so did the fate of Sodom and Gomorrah, and the need to repent was obvious.7 Thomas Holden wrote to Williamson from Falmouth expressing the hope that the fire would be regarded by all as a judgement for sin, and Williamson also received a letter from Hugh Acland at Truro, who prayed that God would avert His judgements and âgive grace to all so to live as to divert the fierceness of His angerâ. Another writer believed that everyone accepted that the fire was caused by the anger of the Lord for the sins of the people, pointing out that pestilence and fire had both come, and that unless the nationâs conduct improved the Lord would âempty his quiver of wrathâ. Evelyn saw it as a punishment not only for sins, including those committed within the dissolute court, but also ingratitude for the deliverance from the âlate intestine calamitiesâ and the restoration of the church and monarchy.8
Pepysâs description of two services which he attended on the Sunday after the fire provides an indication of the mood in London in the aftermath of the disaster. The church was âmighty fullâ in the morning and the âmelancholy but goodâ sermon was so moving that many in the congregation wept. Pepys was less impressed by the Dean of Rochesterâs preaching at the later service, however, and was particularly displeased by the description of the city as being âreduced from a large Folio to a Decimo tertioâ. Yet although some of the congregation at St Olaveâs, Hart Street, were deeply moved by the disaster, other citizens apparently showed no sign of contrition. On the previous day Sir Edward Atkyns had written to his brother giving an account of the fire, but concluding that âyou would wonder at the profaness of people, & how little some are concerned in this sad calamityâ.9
A national fast day was observed on 10 October. This was an important occasion, with William Sancroft, Dean of St Paulâs, preaching to the king and court, Seth Ward, Bishop of Exeter, to the Lords and Edward Stillingfleet, later Bishop of Worcester, delivering a sermon to the House of Commons, in St Margaretâs, Westminster. The clergy generally presented the fire as a reprimand, a heavy judgement indeed, but also a mercy, for the destruction could have been much worse. A greater disaster could be visited on the country if repentance and reform did not follow this most explicit of warnings.10 The message was evidently driven home with some fervour. Isaac Archer, the incumbent of Chippenham in Cambridgeshire, noted that the news of the fire âstruck mee with amazementâ. His text on the fast day was from the book of Amos, chapter four, verse eleven, with its reference to Sodom and Gomorrah and âa firebrand plucked out of the burningâ, and he endeavoured to develop his theme âto worke my own soule, and the hearts of others to a submission to God, and a seeking his face, and imploring his helpe that we might, in this day of our distresse, prepare to meet our God by true repentanceâ.11
Pepys was in London and went to hear Stillingfleet, but could not stay for the sermon because the church was so full, as it was again later in the day when the preacher was Robert Frampton, later Bishop of Gloucester. While clergymen around the country were able to use the opportunity to drive home the moral lessons of the disaster, the services ...