Extracts from the diary of John Evelyn, volume 2. According to John Evelyn, on 2 September 1666, began ‘that deplorable fire, near Fish Street in London.’ These extracts come from the e-book by Project Guttenburg. The bolded extracts have simplified transcripts. John Evelyn was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society in 1663.
[The first volume of John Evelyn’s diary is available online and provides details of his background and family. These extracts relate to the Great Fire of London and can be found in the second volume of his diary.]
Image: Portrait of John Evelyn (1620-1706), by Godfrey Kneller (1646–1723). Wikimedia Commons
- How can we use these diary extracts to find out about the Great Fire of London? Use the following headings: extent of the fire and areas affected; impact of fire on the poor and wealthy; effect of the fire on St Paul’s Cathedral.
- Why are diaries useful for finding out about past events?
- Look at the extracts from Samuel Pepys’ diary in this collection. In what ways is Pepys’ account similar/different?
Transcript
…
2nd September, 1666. This fatal night, about ten, began the deplorable fire, near Fish Street, in London.
3rd September, 1666. I had public prayers at home. The fire continuing, after dinner, I took coach with my wife and son, and went to the Bankside in Southwark, where we beheld that dismal spectacle, the whole city in dreadful flames near the waterside; all the houses from the Bridge, all Thames street, and upward toward Cheapside, down to the Three Cranes, were now consumed; and so returned, exceedingly astonished what would become of the rest.
The fire having continued all this night (if I may call that night which was light as day for ten 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 the city burning from Cheapside to the Thames, and all along Cornhill (for it likewise kindled back against the wind as well as forward), Tower street, Fenchurch street, Gracious street, and so along to Baynard’s 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 astonished, that, from the beginning, I know not by what despondency, or fate, they hardly stirred 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,[Pg 21] monuments, and ornaments; leaping after a prodigious manner, from house to house, and street to street, at great distances one from the other. For the heat, with a long set of fair and warm weather, had even ignited the air, and prepared the materials to conceive the fire, which devoured, after an incredible manner, houses, furniture, and everything. Here, we saw the Thames covered with goods floating, all the barges and boats laden with what some had time and courage to save, as, on the other side, the carts, etc., carrying out to the fields, which for many miles were strewn with movables 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 seen since the foundation of it, nor can be outdone till the universal conflagration thereof. All the sky was of a fiery aspect, like the top of a burning oven, and the light seen above forty 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, the shrieking of women and children, the hurry of people, the fall of towers, houses, and churches, was like a hideous storm; and the air all about so hot and inflamed, that at the last one was not able to approach it, so that they were forced to stand still, and let the flames burn on, which they did, for near two miles in length and one in breadth. The clouds also of smoke were dismal, and reached, upon computation, near fifty miles in length. Thus, I left it this afternoon burning, a resemblance of Sodom, or the last day. It forcibly called to my mind that passage—”non enim hic habemus stabilem civitatem“; the ruins resembling the picture of Troy. London was, but is no more! Thus, I returned.
4th September, 1666. The burning still rages, and it is now gotten as far as the Inner Temple. All Fleet street, the Old Bailey, Ludgate hill, Warwick lane, Newgate, Paul’s chain, Watling street, now flaming, and most of it reduced to ashes; the stones of Paul’s flew like grenados, the melting lead running down the streets in a stream, and the very pavements glowing with fiery redness, so as no horse, nor man, was able to tread on them, and the demolition had stopped all the passages, so that no help[Pg 22] could be applied. The eastern wind still more impetuously driving the flames forward. Nothing but the Almighty power of God was able to stop them; for vain was the help of man.
5th September, 1666. It crossed toward Whitehall; but oh! the confusion there was then at that Court! It pleased his Majesty to command me, among the rest, to look after the quenching of Fetter-lane end, to preserve (if possible) that part of Holborn, while the rest of the gentlemen took their several posts, some at one part, and some at another (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 up of so many houses as might make a wider gap than any had yet been made by the ordinary method of pulling them down with engines. This some stout seamen proposed early enough to have saved near the whole city, but this some tenacious and avaricious men, aldermen, etc., would not permit, because their houses must have been of the first. It was, therefore, now commended to be practiced; 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 abating the wind, and by the industry of the people, when almost all was lost infusing a new spirit into them, that the fury of it began sensibly to abate about noon, so as it came no farther than the Temple westward, nor than the entrance of Smithfield, north: but continued all this day and night so impetuous toward 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 coal and wood wharfs, and magazines of oil, rosin, etc., did infinite mischief, so as the invective which a little before I had dedicated to his Majesty and published,5[Pg 23] giving warning what probably might be the issue of suffering those shops to be in the city was looked upon as a prophecy.
The poor inhabitants were dispersed 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 accommodations in stately and well-furnished houses, were now reduced to extreme misery and poverty.
In this calamitous condition, I returned with a sad heart to my house, blessing and adoring the distinguishing 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.
6th September, 1666. Thursday. I represented to his Majesty the case of the French prisoners at war in my custody, and besought him that there might be still the same care of watching at all places contiguous to unseized houses. It is not indeed imaginable how extraordinary the vigilance and activity of the King and the Duke was, even laboring in person, and being present to command, order, reward, or encourage workmen; by which he showed his affection to his people, and gained theirs. Having, then, disposed of some under cure at the Savoy, I returned to Whitehall, where I dined at Mr. Offley’s, the groom-porter, who was my relation.
7th September, 1666. I went this morning on foot from Whitehall as far as London Bridge, through the late Fleet street, Ludgate hill by St. Paul’s, Cheapside, Exchange, Bishops-gate, Aldersgate, and out to Moorfields, thence through Cornhill, etc., with extraordinary difficulty, clambering over heaps of yet smoking rubbish, and frequently mistaking where I was; the ground under my feet so hot, that it even burnt the soles of my shoes. In the meantime, his Majesty got to the Tower by water, to demolish the houses about the graff, which, being built entirely about it, had they taken fire and attacked the White Tower, where the magazine of powder lay, would undoubtedly not only have beaten down and destroyed all the bridge, but sunk and torn the vessels in the river, and rendered the demolition beyond all expression for several miles about the country.
At my return, I was infinitely concerned to find that[Pg 24] goodly Church, St. Paul’s—now a sad ruin, and that beautiful portico (for structure comparable to any in Europe, as not long before repaired by the late King) now rent in pieces, flakes of large stones split asunder, and nothing remaining entire but the inscription in the architrave showing by whom it was built, which had not one letter of it defaced! It was astonishing to see what immense stones the heat had in a manner calcined, so that all the ornaments, columns, friezes, capitals, and projectures of massy Portland stone, flew off, even to the very roof, where a sheet of lead covering a great space (no less than six acres by measure) was totally melted. The ruins of the vaulted roof falling, broke into St. Faith’s, which being filled with the magazines of books belonging to the Stationers, and carried thither for safety, they were all consumed, burning for a week following. It is also observable that the lead over the altar at the east end was untouched, and among the divers monuments the body of one bishop remained entire. Thus lay in ashes that most venerable church, one of the most ancient pieces of early piety in the Christian world, besides near one hundred more. The lead, ironwork, bells, plate, etc., melted, the exquisitely wrought Mercers’ Chapel, the sumptuous Exchange, the august fabric of Christ Church, all the rest of the Companies’ Halls, splendid buildings, arches, entries, all in dust; the fountains dried up and ruined, while the very waters remained boiling; the voragos of subterranean cellars, wells, and dungeons, formerly warehouses, still burning in stench and dark clouds of smoke; so that in five or six miles traversing about I did not see one load of timber unconsumed, nor many stones but what were calcined white as snow.
The people, who now walked about the ruins, appeared like men in some dismal desert, or rather, in some great city laid waste by a cruel enemy; to which was added the stench that came from some poor creatures’ bodies, beds, and other combustible goods. Sir Thomas Gresham’s statue, though fallen from its niche in the Royal Exchange, remained entire, when all those of the Kings since the Conquest were broken to pieces. Also the standard in Cornhill, and Queen Elizabeth’s effigies, with some arms on Ludgate, continued with but little detriment, while the vast iron chains of the city streets, hinges, bars, and gates[Pg 25] of prisons, were many of them melted and reduced to cinders by the vehement heat. Nor was I yet able to pass through any of the narrow streets, but kept the widest; the ground and air, smoke and fiery vapor, continued so intense, that my hair was almost singed, and my feet insufferably surbated. The by-lanes and narrow streets were quite filled up with rubbish; nor could one have possibly known where he was, but by the ruins of some Church, or Hall, that had some remarkable tower, or pinnacle remaining.
I then went towards Islington and Highgate, where one might have seen 200,000 people of all ranks and degrees dispersed, and lying along by their heaps of what they could save from the fire, deploring their loss; and, though ready to perish for hunger and destitution, yet not asking one penny for relief, which to me appeared a stranger sight than any I had yet beheld. His Majesty and Council indeed took all imaginable care for their relief, by proclamation for the country to come in, and refresh them with provisions.
In the midst of all this calamity and confusion, there was, I know not how, an alarm begun that the French and Dutch, with whom we were now in hostility, were not only landed, but even entering the city. There was, in truth, some days before, great suspicion of those two nations joining; and now that they had been the occasion of firing the town. This report did so terrify, that on a sudden there was such an uproar and tumult that they ran from their goods, and, taking what weapons they could come at, they could not be stopped from falling on some of those nations whom they casually met, without sense or reason. The clamor and peril grew so excessive, that it made the whole Court amazed, and they did with infinite pains and great difficulty, reduce and appease the people, sending troops of soldiers and guards, to cause them to retire into the fields again, where they were watched all this night. I left them pretty quiet and came home sufficiently weary and broken. Their spirits thus a little calmed, and the affright abated, they now began to repair into the suburbs about the city, where such as had friends, or opportunity, got shelter for the present to which his Majesty’s proclamation also invited them.
Simplified transcripts and extracts
Extract A
The fire was everywhere and everyone so astonished, that from the beginning (I don’t know if from feeling it was too hopeless or fate), they hardly made efforts to put it out. All that could be seen or heard was crying out & sobbing & running about like distracted creatures, with not attempt even to save their possessions. For everyone it was so unexpected, so the fire burned in breath and length spreading to churches, public halls, the Exchange, hospitals, monuments and statues, flames rapidly leaping from house to house & street to street, at great distances one from the other. The heat (after a long spell of fine warm weather) had even caused the air to burst into flames and helped more things to burn so the fire rapidly devoured houses, furniture, and everything: We saw the Thames covered with floating goods, all the barges and boats laden with what some had time and courage to save. On the other hand, carts carried goods out to the fields, which for many miles, were covered with possessions of all sorts. Tents were set up to shelter both people any goods they get could remove. Oh! the miserable and disastrous scene, such as thankfully the world had not seen since its beginning until this intensive fire, all the sky was on a light, like the top of a burning oven. And the light could be seen over 40 miles away for many nights. God grant that I may never see anything like it again, the ten thousand houses all in flames with all the noise and crackling and thunder of the powerful flames, the shrieking of women and children and the rush of people The fall of towers, houses and churches was like a ugly storm and the air all about so hot and burning that one not approach it and people were forced to stand still, and let the flames feed on everything for two whole miles in length and one mile wide. The clouds of smoke were terrible and stretched nearly 50 miles in length.
Extract B
The burning still rages: I went now on horseback, and it had reached the Inner Temple, all of Fleet Street, the Old Baily, Ludgate Hill, Warwick Lane, Newgate, Paul’s Chain, [a street near St Paul’s Church yard]. Wattling Street is now on fire and most of it reduced to ashes, the stones of Paules [St. Pauls] flew like grenades* the lead melting down the streets in a stream, and the actual pavements glowing with fiery redness, so as neither horse or man was able to tread on them. The demolitions had blocked all the passages meant one could not get help. The East wind was still moving with great force driving the flames ahead. Nothing but the Almighty power of God was able to stop them. Useless was the help of man: on the fifth day the fire crossed towards Whitehall.
[small iron spheres filled with gunpowder fused with a length of slow match, the size of a tennis ball.]
Extract C
The poor Inhabitants spread from St. Georges, Moorfields, as far as Highgate and several miles around. Some were under tents, others in miserable huts and hovels without a rag, or any necessary tools, beds, or food. People who were used to a wealthy comfortable life and who lived in well-furnished houses were now reduced to extreme misery and poverty. From this terrible situation I returned with a sad heart to my house, blessing and greatly appreciating God’s mercy to me and my family, who in all this loss, was like Lot, in my litte Zoar, safe and sound.
[According to the Old Testament, Zoar was the small city to which Lot and his daughters fled during the destruction of the cities Sodom and Gomorrah.]
Extract D
Thus, lay in ashes that most respected church, one of the oldest examples of Christian devotion to God, besides nearly a 100 other churches. The lead ironwork, bells and metal melted, the exquisitely designed Mercers Chapel, the splendid Exchange, the majestic Christ Church [in Newgate Street] all the rest of the companies’ halls, magnificent buildings, arches, and entrances all reduced to dust. The fountains were dried up and ruined, whilst the waterways remained boiling. The deep chasms in the ground including cellars, wells, and dungeons, which were used as warehouses, were still burning, and stinking with dark clouds, like hell. In walking five or six miles, I did not see any timber that had not been burnt nor any stones that had not been heated white as snow, so as people walked about the ruins, appeared like men in some dismal desert, or rather in some great city laid waste by a thoughtless and cruel enemy. Added to this was the stench that came from some poor peoples’ bodies, beds & other burnable goods.
Extract E
I went towards Islington and Highgate, where you could have seen 200,000 people of all ranks and classes spread out. They were lying by heaps of what they could save from the fire. They expressed sadness at their loss and though ready to die from hunger and poverty, did not ask for one penny to help. To me, this appeared a strange sight, than any I had seen before. His Majesty and Council took all possible care for their relief. The King made a proclamation, for the countryside to provide them with food. In the middle of all this disaster and confusion, I know not now, an alarm was raised that the French and Dutch (with whom we are now at war) had landed and were entering the city. Truthfully, there had been great fear, some days before, that those two countries were joining together and even now, that they had caused the firing of the town.