Samuel Pepys (1633-1703) was an English diarist. He worked as an administrator for the Royal Navy and was a Member of Parliament. In his famous diary (1660-1669) he described events in Restoration England, including the Great Plague and the Great Fire of London. He also recorded details about his life.
Image is from H.B. Wheatley, ed, The Diary of Samuel Pepys: Pepysiana (London, 1899). Book editor died in 1917. Samuel Pepys died in 1703. Wikimedia Commons
These extracts come from the e-book by Project Guttenburg, which appears on the Pepys Diary website.
- How can we use these diary extracts to find out about the Great Fire of London? Use the following headings: origin of the fire; areas affected; people’s experience; efforts to stop the fire; responses of Charles II & Mayor of London.
- Why are diaries useful for finding out about past events?
- Look at the extracts from John Evelyn’s diary in this collection. In what ways is Evelyn’s account similar/different?
Extract A
Transcript
Sunday 2 September 1666
(Lord’s day). Some of our mayds sitting up late last night to get things ready against our feast to-day, Jane called us up about three in the morning, to tell us of a great fire they saw in the City. So I rose and slipped on my nightgowne, and went to her window, and thought it to be on the backside of Marke-lane at the farthest; but, being unused to such fires as followed, I thought it far enough off; and so went to bed again and to sleep. About seven rose again to dress myself, and there looked out at the window, and saw the fire not so much as it was and further off. So to my closett to set things to rights after yesterday’s cleaning. By and by Jane comes and tells me that she hears that above 300 houses have been burned down to-night by the fire we saw, and that it is now burning down all Fish-street, by London Bridge. So I made myself ready presently, and walked to the Tower, and there got up upon one of the high places, Sir J. Robinson’s little son going up with me; and there I did see the houses at that end of the bridge all on fire, and an infinite great fire on this and the other side the end of the bridge; which, among other people, did trouble me for poor little Michell and our Sarah on the bridge. So down, with my heart full of trouble, to the Lieutenant of the Tower, who tells me that it begun this morning in the King’s baker’s house in Pudding-lane, and that it hath burned St. Magnus’s Church and most part of Fish-street already. So I down to the water-side, and there got a boat and through bridge, and there saw a lamentable fire. Poor Michell’s house, as far as the Old Swan, already burned that way, and the fire running further, that in a very little time it got as far as the Steeleyard, while I was there. Everybody endeavouring to remove their goods, and flinging into the river or bringing them into lighters that layoff; poor people staying in their houses as long as till the very fire touched them, and then running into boats, or clambering from one pair of stairs by the water-side to another. And among other things, the poor pigeons, I perceive, were loth to leave their houses, but hovered about the windows and balconys till they were, some of them burned, their wings, and fell down.
Having staid, and in an hour’s time seen the fire: rage every way, and nobody, to my sight, endeavouring to quench it, but to remove their goods, and leave all to the fire, and having seen it get as far as the Steele-yard, and the wind mighty high and driving it into the City; and every thing, after so long a drought, proving combustible, even the very stones of churches, and among other things the poor steeple by which pretty Mrs. ———— lives, and whereof my old school-fellow Elborough is parson, taken fire in the very top, an there burned till it fell down: I to White Hall (with a gentleman with me who desired to go off from the Tower, to see the fire, in my boat); to White Hall, and there up to the Kings closett in the Chappell, where people come about me, and did give them an account dismayed them all, and word was carried in to the King. So I was called for, and did tell the King and Duke of Yorke what I saw, and that unless his Majesty did command houses to be pulled down nothing could stop the fire. They seemed much troubled, and the King commanded me to go to my Lord Mayor —[Sir Thomas Bludworth. See June 30th, 1666.]— from him, and command him to spare no houses, but to pull down before the fire every way. The Duke of York bid me tell him that if he would have any more soldiers he shall; and so did my Lord Arlington afterwards, as a great secret.1 Here meeting, with Captain Cocke, I in his coach, which he lent me, and Creed with me to Paul’s, and there walked along Watlingstreet, as well as I could, every creature coming away loaden with goods to save, and here and there sicke people carried away in beds. Extraordinary good goods carried in carts and on backs. At last met my Lord Mayor in Canningstreet, like a man spent, with a handkercher about his neck. To 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.” That he needed no more soldiers; and that, for himself, he must go and refresh himself, having been up all night. So he left me, and I him, and walked home, seeing people all almost distracted, and no manner of means used to quench the fire. The houses, too, so very thick thereabouts, and full of matter for burning, as pitch and tarr, in Thames-street; and warehouses of oyle, and wines, and brandy, and other things. Here I saw Mr. Isaake Houblon, the handsome man, prettily dressed and dirty, at his door at Dowgate, receiving some of his brothers’ things, whose houses were on fire; and, as he says, have been removed twice already; and he doubts (as it soon proved) that they must be in a little time removed from his house also, which was a sad consideration. And to see the churches all filling with goods by people who themselves should have been quietly there at this time.
By this time it was about twelve o’clock; and so home, and there find my guests, which was Mr. Wood and his wife Barbary Sheldon, and also Mr. Moons: she mighty fine, and her husband; for aught I see, a likely man. But Mr. Moone’s design and mine, which was to look over my closett and please him with the sight thereof, which he hath long desired, was wholly disappointed; for we were in great trouble and disturbance at this fire, not knowing what to think of it. However, we had an extraordinary good dinner, and as merry, as at this time we could be.
While at dinner Mrs. Batelier come to enquire after Mr. Woolfe and Stanes (who, it seems, are related to them), whose houses in Fish-street are all burned; and they in a sad condition. She would not stay in the fright.
Soon as dined, I and Moone away, and walked, through the City, the streets full of nothing but people and horses and carts loaden with goods, ready to run over one another, and, removing goods from one burned house to another. They now removing out of Canning-streets (which received goods in the morning) into Lumbard-streets, and further; and among others I now saw my little goldsmith, Stokes, receiving some friend’s goods, whose house itself was burned the day after. We parted at Paul’s; he home, and I to Paul’s Wharf, where I had appointed a boat to attend me, and took in Mr. Carcasse and his brother, whom I met in the streets and carried them below and above bridge to and again to see the fire, which was now got further, both below and above and no likelihood of stopping it. Met with the King and Duke of York in their barge, and with them to Queenhith and there called Sir Richard Browne to them. Their order was only to pull down houses apace, and so below bridge the water-side; but little was or could be done, the fire coming upon them so fast. Good hopes there was of stopping it at the Three Cranes above, and at Buttolph’s Wharf below bridge, if care be used; but the wind carries it into the City so as we know not by the water-side what it do there. River full of lighters and boats taking in goods, and good goods swimming in the water, and only I observed that hardly one lighter or boat in three that had the goods of a house in, but there was a pair of Virginalls in it. Having seen as much as I could now, I away to White Hall by appointment, and there walked to St. James’s Parks, and there met my wife and Creed and Wood and his wife, and walked to my boat; and there upon the water again, and to the fire up and down, it still encreasing, and the wind great. So near the fire as we could for smoke; and all over the Thames, with one’s face in the wind, you were almost burned with a shower of firedrops. This is very true; so as houses were burned by these drops and flakes of fire, three or four, nay, five or six houses, one from another. When we could endure no more upon the water; we to a little ale-house on the Bankside, over against the Three Cranes, and there staid till it was dark almost, and saw the fire grow; and, as it grew darker, appeared more and more, and in corners and upon steeples, and between churches and houses, as far as we could see up the hill of the City, in a most horrid malicious bloody flame, not like the fine flame of an ordinary fire. Barbary and her husband away before us. We staid till, it being darkish, we saw the fire as only one entire arch of fire from this to the other side the bridge, and in a bow up the hill for an arch of above a mile long: it made me weep to see it. The churches, houses, and all on fire and flaming at once; and a horrid noise the flames made, and the cracking of houses at their ruins. So home with a sad heart, and there find every body discoursing and lamenting the fire; and poor Tom Hater come with some few of his goods saved out of his house, which is burned upon Fish-streets Hill. I invited him to lie at my house, and did receive his goods, but was deceived in his lying there, the newes coming every moment of the growth of the fire; so as we were forced to begin to pack up our owne goods; and prepare for their removal; and did by moonshine (it being brave dry, and moon shine, and warm weather) carry much of my goods into the garden, and Mr. Hater and I did remove my money and iron chests into my cellar, as thinking that the safest place. And got my bags of gold into my office, ready to carry away, and my chief papers of accounts also there, and my tallys into a box by themselves. So great was our fear, as Sir W. Batten hath carts come out of the country to fetch away his goods this night. We did put Mr. Hater, poor man, to bed a little; but he got but very little rest, so much noise being in my house, taking down of goods.
[Sir William Coventry wrote to Lord Arlington on the evening of this day, “The Duke of York fears the want of workmen and tools to-morrow morning, and wishes the deputy lieutenants and justices of peace to summon the workmen with tools to be there by break of day. In some churches and chapels are great hooks for pulling down houses, which should be brought ready upon the place to-night against the morning” (“Calendar of State Papers,” 1666-66, p. 95).]
Simplified transcript
Sunday. As some of our servants stayed up late last night to get things ready for our feast to-day, Jane called us at about three in the morning, to tell us of a great fire that they saw in the city. I rose and put on my dressing gown, and went to her window, and thought it to be on the far side of Mark Lane, I thought it far away and so went to bed again and to sleep. At about seven I got up, dressed, looked out of the window, and saw the fire was nearer. I then went to my office [room] to clear up after yesterday’s cleaning. Later, Jane came to tell me that she heard that over 300 houses have burnt down last night which was now burning Fish Street by London Bridge. So, I got ready quickly and walked to the Tower and got up high. Sir John Robinson’s small son came with me. There I saw all the houses at that end of the bridge on fire. There was a huge fire on the other side at the end of the bridge. This worried me because amongst these people, was little Michell and our Sarah on the bridge. With a heavy heart I went to see the Lieutenant of the Tower, who told me that the fire began this morning in the King’s baker’s house in Pudding Lane, and that it burnt St. Magnus’s Church and most part of Fish Street already. I went down to the waterside, and got a boat, through the bridge, I saw a terrible fire. Poor Michell’s house, and as far as the Old Swan inn was burnt down. The fire was spreading further, and it got as far as the bank of the Thames with while I was there. Everybody tried to remove their goods by throwing them into the river [Thames] or putting them into barges. Poor people were staying in their houses until the fire touched them, and then running into boats, or clambering from one pair of stairs by the waterside to another. And among other things, the poor pigeons, I noticed were reluctant to leave their houses, and hovered about the windows and balconies until some burnt their wings and fell.
I stayed and, in an hour, saw the fire rage in all directions with nobody trying to put it out but rather try and remove their goods, and leave the rest to the fire. I saw it get as far as the banks of the Thames and the strong wind drive it into the city. Everything was so dry it burnt easily, even the stones of churches, and among other things the poor church where Mrs Horsely lives, and where my old school-fellow, Elborough, is parson. The fire started at the top and it burned until it fell. I went to Whitehall (with a gentleman with me who desired to go from the Tower, to see the fire, in my boat); and there up to the King’s room in the Chapel, where people came up to me, and I gave them an account of the fire which worried everyone. News was sent to the King, and I was called for. I told his Majesty and the Duke of York what I had seen and that unless he ordered houses to be pulled down, nothing could stop the fire. They seemed very worried. The King commanded me to go to my Lord Mayor, Sir Thomas Bludworth and command him to spare no houses, and pull them down in the path of the fire… From St. Paul’s, I walked along Watling Street, everyone was coming away laden with goods they were trying to save, and sick people were carried in beds. Expensive goods were carried in carts and on backs. At last, I met the Lord Mayor in Cannon Street. He was exhausted, with a handkerchief about his neck. To the King’s message he cried, like a fainting woman, “Lord! what can I do? I am finished! People will not do as I say. I have been pulling down houses; but the fire overtakes us faster than we can do it.” He said he did not need any more soldiers and that he had to go and rest, having been up all night. I left him and walked home seeing everyone confused, with no way of putting out the fire. Here, the houses were very close together and full of things which burn easily like tar in Thames Street, and warehouses containing oil, and wines, and brandy, and other things. Here I saw Isaac Houblon, well dressed and dirty, at his door at Dowgate [a dock on the Thames] receiving some of his brothers’ things, whose houses were on fire; and, as he says and have been removed twice already. He doubted (as it was soon proved) that they must be soon removed from his house which was a sad thought. The churches were filling with goods rather than people who should have been quietly there at this time.
By now it was about twelve o’clock, so I went home. I found my guests, Mr. Wood and his wife Barbary Sheldon, and Mr. Moons… We were greatly disturbed by this fire, not knowing what to make of it. However, we had an excellent dinner, and as happy time as we could.
While having dinner, Mrs. Batelier came to ask after Mr. Woolfe and Thomas Stanes (who, it seems, is related to them) and whose houses in Fish Street are all burnt and in a bad state. She would not stay out of fear.
Soon after eating, I walked with Mr Moone through the City. The streets were full of nothing but people and horses and carts full of goods, ready to run over one another, and, removing goods from one burned house to another. They now removing out of Cannon Street (which received goods in the morning) into Lombard Street and beyond. I saw my goldsmith, Humphrey Stokes, receiving some friend’s goods, whose house itself was burned the day after. We parted at St. Paul’s where he lived. I went to St. Paul’s Wharf, where I had arranged for a boat, and took Mr. Carcasse and his brother, whom I met in the streets and carried them below and above bridge to and again to see the fire. It had spread, below and above the bridge and nothing seemed to stop it. I met with the King and Duke of York in their barge, and with them to the north bank of the Thames and called Sir Richard Browne over to join them.
Their order was to pull down houses without delay only below the bridge and the waterside; but little could be done as the fire was spreading so quickly. There were hopes of stopping it at the Three Cranes above, and at Buttolph’s Wharf, below bridge, However, if the wind carries the fire into the city not by the waterside, it is not clear what to do. The river is full of boats carrying goods, and goods floating in the water. I noticed that less than one boat in three that contained household goods but there was a pair of Virginals [instrument like a harpsichord] in one. I went to an appointment in White Hall and walked to St. James’s Park and met my wife and John Creed and Wood and his wife. I walked to my boat and on the water again the fire both up and down was growing with a powerful wind. As near to the fire as we could get, due to the smoke all over the Thames, with one’s face in the wind, you were almost burned with a shower of sparks. This is true as houses were burnt by these sparks and flakes of fire, three or four, even, five or six houses, one to another. We could not stand being on the water any longer, we went to a little alehouse on Bankside over from the Three Cranes. We stayed there until it was nearly dark and saw the fire grow; and, as it grew darker, it appeared more and more in corners and on church steeples, and between churches and houses, as far as we could see up the hill of the city. It was a the most horrible evil bloody flame, not like the fine flame of an ordinary fire. … We stayed until dark, and we saw an entire arch of fire from here to the other side the bridge… an arch of over a mile long: it made me weep to see it. The churches, houses, and all on fire and flaming at once; and a horrible noise the flames made, and the cracking of ruined houses. Then, I went home with a sad heart. There I found everyone discussing and grieving over the fire. Poor Tom Hater came over with a few goods saved from of his house, which is burned on Fish Street’s Hill. I invited him to sleep at my house and received his goods. I was mistaken in letting him stay here as the news came that moment of the growth of the fire. We were forced to begin to pack up our own goods; and prepare for their removal; and did it by moonlight (it being dry, with warm weather). I carried many of my goods into the garden, and Mr. Hater and I did remove my money and iron chests into my cellar, believing that the safest place. And got my bags of gold into my office, ready to carry away, and my chief papers of accounts also there, and my accounts into a separate box. So great was our fear, as Sir W. Batten arranged for carts from the countryside to collect his goods tonight. We put Mr. Hater, poor man, to bed for a while but he got little rest as there was so much noise at home with the removal of my goods.
Extract B
Transcript
Tuesday 4 September 1666
Up by break of day to get away the remainder of my things; which I did by a lighter at the Iron gate and my hands so few, that it was the afternoon before we could get them all away.
Sir W. Pen and I to Tower-streete, and there met the fire burning three or four doors beyond Mr. Howell’s, whose goods, poor man, his trayes, and dishes, shovells, &c., were flung all along Tower-street in the kennels, and people working therewith from one end to the other; the fire coming on in that narrow streete, on both sides, with infinite fury. Sir W. Batten not knowing how to remove his wine, did dig a pit in the garden, and laid it in there; and I took the opportunity of laying all the papers of my office that I could not otherwise dispose of. And in the evening Sir W. Pen and I did dig another, and put our wine in it; and I my Parmazan cheese, as well as my wine and some other things.
Simplified transcript
Up at daybreak to remove the remainder of my things which I did by barge at Irongate stairs [near the Tower of London] and with few servants to help. It was by the afternoon before we could get everything away. Sir William Penn and I went to Tower Street and saw the fire burning three or four doors beyond Mr Howells’ house whose goods, poor man, his trays, and dishes, shovels etc. were flung all along Tower Street in the kennels [a poor shelter like to a doghouse]. People were working from one end to the other [to stop the fire] which was spreading fiercely along that narrow street, on both sides. Sir W. Batten not sure how to remove his wine, dug a pit in the garden and laid it there; and I took the opportunity of laying all the papers of my office that I could not otherwise remove. And, in the evening Sir W. Pen and I dug another pit and put our wine in it; and I my Parmazan cheese as well as my wine and some other things.
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