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Watling Streete, now flaming, and most of it reduc'd to ashes; the stones of Paules flew like granados, ye mealting lead running downe the streetes in a streame, and the very pavements glowing with fiery rednesse, so as no horse nor 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 stop them, for vaine was ye help of man.

5th It crossed towards Whitehall : but oh! the confusion there was then at that court! It pleased his Maty to command me among ye rest to lcoke after the quenching of Fetter Lane end, to preserve, if possible, that part of Holburn, whilst the rest of ye gentlemen tooke their several posts--for now they began to bestir themselves. and not till now, who hitherto had stood as men intoxicated, with their hands acrosse -and began to cousider that nothing was likely to put a stop but the blowing up of 80 many houses, as might make a wider gap than any had yet ben made by the ordinary method of pulling thein down with engines; this some stout seamen propos'd early enough to have sav'd near ye whole citty, but this some tenacious and avaritious men, aldermen, &c. would not permit, because their houses must have ben of the first. It was therefore now commanded to be practis'il, and my concern being particularly for the hospital of St. Bartholomew, neere Smithfield, where I had many wounded and sick men, made me the more diligent to promote it, nor was my care for the Savoy lesse. It now pleas'd God, by abating the wind, and by the industrie of ye people, infusing a new spirit into them, that the fury of it began sensibly to abate about noone, so as it came no farther than ye Temple westward, nor than Ve entrance of Smithfield north, Bnt continu'd all this day and night so impetuous towards Cripplegate and the tower, as made us all despaire; it also broke out againe in the Temple, but the courage of the multitude persisting, and many houses being blown up, such gaps and desolations were soone made, as with the former three day's consumption, the back fire did not so vehemently urge upon the rest as formerly. There was yet no standing neere the burning and glowing ruines by neere a furlong's space.

The coale and wood wharfes and magazines of oyle, rosin, &c. did infinite mischiefe, so as the invective which a little before I had dedicated to his Maty, and publish'd, giving warning what might probably be the issue of suffering those shops to be in the citty, was look'd on as a prophecy.

The poore inhabitants were dispers'd about St. George's Fields, and Moorefields, as far as Highgate, and severall miles in circle, some under tents, some under miserable hutts and hovells, many without a rag or any necessary utensille, bed or board, who, from delicatenesse, riches, and easy accommodations in stately and wellfurnish'd houses, were now reduc'd to extremest misery and poverty.

In this calamitous condition, I return'd with á sad heart to my house, blessing and adoring the mercy of God to me and mine, who in the midst of all this ruine was like Lot, in my little Zoar, safe and sound. ...

7th. I went this morning on foot fm Whitehall as far as London Bridge, thro' the late Fleete Street, Ludgate Hill, by St. Paules, Cheapside, Exchange, Bishopgate, Alderggate, and out to Moorefields, thence thro' Cornehill, &c. with extraordinary difficulty, clambering over heaps of yet smoking rubbish, and frequently mistaking where I was. The ground under my feete was so hot, that it even burnt the soles of my shoes. In the meantime his Maty got to the Tower by water, to demolish y houses about the graff, which being built intirely about it, bad they taken fire and attack'd the White Tower where the inagazine of powder lay, would undoubtedly not only have beaten down and destroy'd all ye bridge, but sunke and torne the vesslis in ve river, and render'd ye demolition beyond all expression for several miles about the conn trey.

At my returu, I was infinitely concern'd to find that goodly church, St. Paules, Dow a sad roine, and that beautiful portico—for structure comparable to any in Europe, as not long before repair'd by the late king-now rent in pieces, flakes of vast stones split asunder, and nothing remaining intire but the inscription in the architrave, showing by whom it was built, which had not one letter of it defac'd! It was astonishing to see what immense stones the heat had in a manner calcin'd, so that all ye ornaments, columns, freezes, and projectures of massic Portland stone flew off, even to ye very roofe, where a sheet of lead covering a great space was totally mealted; the ruines of the vaulted roofe falling broken into St. Faith's, which being filled with

the magazines of bookes belonging to ye stationers, and carried thither for safety, they were all consum'd, burning for a weeke following. It is also observable, that the lead over ye altar at ye east end was untouch'd, and among the divers monuments, the body of one bishop remain'd intire. Thus lay in ashes that most venerable church, one of the most antient pieces of early piety in ye Christian world, besides neere 100 more. The lead, yron worke, bells, plate, &c. mealted; the exquisitely wrought Mercers Chapell, the sumptuous Exchange, ye angust fabriq of Christ Church, all ye rest of the Companies Halls, sumptuous buildings, arches, all in dust; the fountain 3 dried up and ruin'd, whilst the very waters remain'd boiling; the vorago's of subterranean cellars, wello, and dungeons, formerly warehouses, still burning in stench and dark clouds of smoke, so that in 5 or 6 miles, in traversing about, I did not see one load of timber unconsum'd, nor many stones but what were calcin'd white as snow. The people who now walk'd about ye ruines appear'd like men in a dismal desart, or rather in some greate citty laid waste by a cruel enemy; to which was added the stench that came from some poore creatures bodies, beds, &c. Sir Tho. Gressham's statue, tho' fallen from its nich in the Royal Exchange, remain'd intire, when all those of ye kings since ye Conquist were broken to pieces, also the standard in Cornehill, and Q. Elizabeth's effigi's, with some armcs on Ludgate, continued with but little detriment, whilst the vast yron chaines of the citty streetes, hinges, barrs, and gates of prisons, were many of them mealted and reduc'd to cinders by ye vehement heate. I was not able to passe through any of the narrow streetes, but kept the widest; the ground and air, smoake and fiery vapour continu'd go intense, that my haire was almost sing'd, and iny feete unsufferably sur-heated. The bie lanes and narrower streetes were quite fill'd up with rubbish, nor could one have knowne where he was, but by ye raines of some church or hall, that had some remarkable tower or pinnacle rcmaining. I then went towards Islington and Highgate, where one might have seene 200,000 people of all ranks and degrees dispers'd and lying along by their heapes of what they could save from the fire, deploring their loss, and tho' ready to perish for hunger and destitution, yet not asking one penny for relief, which to me appear'd a stranger sight than any I had yet beheld. His Majesty and Council indeede tooke all inaginable care for their reliefe, by proclamation for the country to come in and retresh them with provisions. In ye midst of all this calamity anconfusion, there was, I know not how, an alarme begun that the French and Dutch, with whom We were now in hostility, were not onely landed, but even entering the citty. There was, in trutlı, some days before, greate suspicion of those 2 nations joining; and now that they had ben the occasion of firing the towne. This report did so terrifie, that on a suddaine there was such an uproare and tumult, that they ran from their goods, and taking what weapons they could come at, they could not be stopp'd from falling on some of those nations, whom they casually met, without sense or reason. The c!amour aud poril grew so excessive, that it made the whole court amaz'd, and they did with infinito paines and greate difficulty reduce and appease the people, sending troops of soldiers and guards to cause them to retire into ye fields againe, where they were watched all this night. I left them pretty quiet, and came home suffciently weary and broken. Their spirits thus a little calmed, and the affright abated, they now began to repaire into ye suburbs about the citty, where such as had friends or opportunity got shelter for the present, to which his Matys proclamation also invited them.

A Fortunate Courtier not Envied. Sept. 6 (1080).-I dined with Sir Stephen Fox, now one of the Lords Commissioners of the Tre:sary. This gentleman came first a poor boy from the choir of Salisbury, then was taken notice of by Bishop Duppa, and afterwards waited on my Lord Percy, brother to Algernon, Earl of Northumberland, who procured for him an inferior place amongst the clerks of the kitchen and green cloth side, where he was found so humble, diligent, industrious, and prudent in his behaviour, that his majesty being in exile, and Mr. Fox waiting, both the king and lords about him from quently employed him about their affairs; and trusted him both with receiving and paying the little money they had. Returning with his majesty to England, after great wants and great suffering s, his majesty found him so honest and industrious, und withal so capable and ready, that being advanced from clerk of the kitchen to that of the green cloth, he procured to be paymaster to the whole arms; and by his

om to retire net, and can fright abated; dexterity and punctual dealing, he obtained such credit among the bankers, that he was in a short time able to borrow vast sums of them upon any exigence. The continual turning thus of money, and the soldiers' moderate allowance to him for his keeping touch with them, did so enrich him, that he is believed to be worth at least £200,000 honestly gotten and unen vied, which is next to a miracle. With all this he continues ás humble and ready to do a courtesy as ever he was. He is generous, and lives very honourably; of a sweet nature, well-spoken, well-bred, and is so highly in his majesty's esteem, and so useful, that, being long since made a knight, he is also advanced to be one of the Lords Commissioners of the Treasury, and has the reversion of the cofferer's place after Harry Bronnker. He has married his eldest daughter to my Lord Cornwallis, and gave her €12,000, and restored that entangled family besides. He matched his eldest son to Mrs. Trollope, who brings with her, besides a great sum, near, if not altogether, £2000 per annum. Sir Stephens's lady, an excellent woman, is sister to Mr. Whittle, one of the king's chirurgeons. In a word, never was man more fortunate than Sir Stephen; he is a haudsome person, virtuous, and very religious.*

Frost Fair on the Thames. 1683-4. 1st January. The weather continuing intolerably severe, streets of booths were set upon the Thames; the air was so very cold and thick, as of many years there had not been the like.

9th. I went across the Thames on the ice, now become so thick as to bear not only streets of booths, in which they roasted meat, and had divers shops of wares, quite across as in a town, but coaches, carts, and horses passed over. So I went from Westminster-stairs to Lambeth, and dined with the archbishop: where I met my Lord Bruce, Sir George Wheeler, Colonel Cooke, and several divines. After dinner and discourse with his Grace till evening prayers, Sir George Wheeler and I walked over the ice from Lambeth-stairs to the Horse-ferry.

16th January. The Thames was filled with people and tents, selling all sorts of wares as in the City.

24th. The frost continuing more and more severe, the Thames hefore London was still planted with booths in formal streets, all sorts of trades and shops furnished. and full of commodities, even to a printing-press, where the people and ladies took a fancy to have their names printed, and the day and year set down when printed on the Thames: this humour took so universally, that it was estimated the printer gained £5 a day, for printing a line only, at sixpence a name, besides what he got by ballads, &c. Coaches plied from Westminster to the Teinple, and from several other stairs to and fro, as in the streets, sleds, sliding with skates, a bull-baiting, horse and coach-races, puppet-plays and interludes, cooks, tippling, and other lewd places, so that it seemed to be a bacchanalian triumph, or carnival on the water, whilst it was a severe judgment on the land, the trees not only splitting as if lightning-struck, but men and cattle perishing in divers places, and the very seas so locked up with ice. that 110 vessels could stir out or come in. The fowls, fish, and birds, and all our ex ofic plants and greens, universally perishing. Many parks of deer were destroyed. and all sorts of fuel so dear, that there were great contributions to preserve the poor unive. Nor was this severe weather much less intense in inost parts of Europe, even as far as Spain and the most southern tracts. London, by reason of the excessive coldness of the air hindering the ascent of the smoke, was so filled with the fuliginous steam of the sea-coal, that hardly could one see across the streets, and this filling the lungs with its gross particles, exceedingly obstructed the breast, so as one could scarcely breathe. Here was no water to be had from the pipes and engines, nor could the brewers and divers other tradesmen work, and every moment was full of disastrous accidents.

5th February. It began to thaw, but froze again. My coach crossed from Lambeth to the Horse-ferry at Milbank, Westininster. The booths were almost all taken down; but there was first a map or landscape cut in copper representing all the manDer of the camp, and the several actions, sports, and pastimes thereon, in memory of 80 sigpal a frost,

* Sir Stephen Fox was the progenitor of the noble house of Holland, so remarkable Jor the line of distincuished statesmen which it has given to England. .

Evelyn's Account of his Daughter Mary. March 7 (1685).-My daughter Mary [in the nineteenth year of her age] was taken with the small-pox, and there was soon found no hope of her recovery. A great affliction to me, but God's holy will be done!

March 10,-She received the blessed sacrament; after which, disposing herself to suffer what God should determine to inflict, she bore the remainder of her sickness with extraordinary patience and piety, and more than ordinary resignation and blessed frame of mind. She died the 14th, to our unspeakable sorrow and affliction ; and not to ours only, but that of all who knew her, who were many of the best quality, greatest and most virtuous persons. The justness of her stature, person, comeliness of countenance, gracefulness of motion, unaffected, though more than ordinarily beautiful, were the least of her ornaments, compared with those of her mind. Of early piety, singularly religious, spending a part of every day in private devotion, reading, and other virtuous exercises ; she had collected and written out many of the most useful and judicious periods of the books she read in a kind of commonplace, as out of Dr. Hammond on the New Testament, and most of the best practical treatises. She had read and digested a considerable deal of history and of places (geography). The French tongue was as familiar to her as English ; she onderstood Italian, and was able to render a laudable account of what she read and observed, to which assisted a most faithful memory and discernment, and she did make very prudent and discreet reflections upon what she had observed of the conversations among which she had at any time been, which being continually of persons of the best quality, she thereby improved. She had an excellent voice, to which 3he played a thorough base on the harpsichord. ... What shall I say, or rather not eay, of the cheerfulness and agreeableness of her humour? Condescending to the mean. cst servant in the family, or others, she still kept up respect, without the least pride. She would often read to them, examine, instruct, and pray with them if they were sick, so as she was exceedingly beloved of everybody. She never played at cards without extreme importimity. No one could read prose or verse better or with more judgment; and, as she read, fo she writ, not only most correct orthography, with that maturity of judgment and exactness of the periods, choice of expressions, and familiarity of style, that some letters of hers have astonished me and others. Nothing was so delightful to her as to go into my study, where she would willingly have spent whole days, for, as I said, she had read abundance of history, and all the best poets; even Terence, Plautus, Homer, Virgil, Horace, Ovid; all ihe best romances and modern poems; she could compose happily, as in the Mundus Muliebris,' wherein is an enumeration of the immense variety of the modes and ornaments belonging to her sex; but all these are vain trifles to the virtues that adorned her soul; she was sincerely religious, most dutiful to her parents, whom she loved with an affection tempered with great esteem, so as we were easy and free, and never were so well pleased as when she was with us, por needed we other conversation. She was kind to her sisters, and was still improving them by her constant course of piety. O dear, sweet, and desirable child ! how shall I part with all this goodness and virtue without the bitterness of sorrow and reluctance of a tender parent? Thy affection, duty, and love to me was that of a friend as well as a child. Nor less dear to thy mother, whose example and tender care of thee was unparalleled; nor was thy return to her less conspicuous. Oh, how she mourns thy loss! how desolate hast thou left us ! to the grave shall we both carry thy memory.

Fashions in Dress.-From Tyrannus, or the Mode.' 'Twas a witty expression of Malvezzi, I vestimenti negli animali sono molto sicuri segni della loro natura ; negli huomini del lor ceruello-garments, says he, in animals are infallible signs of their nature; in men, of their understanding. Though I would not judge of the moak by the hood he wears, or celebrate the humour of Julian's court, where the philosophic mantle made all his officers appear like so many conjurors, 'tis worth the observing yet, that the people of Rome left off the toga, an ancient and noble garment, with their power, and that the vicissitude of their habit was little better than a presage of that of their fortune; for the military saga, differencing them from their slaves, was no small indication of the declining of their courage, which shortly followed. And I am of opinion that when once we

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shall see the Venetian senate quit the gravity of their vests, the state itself will not long subsist without some considerable alteration. I am of opinion that the Swiss had not been now a nation but for keeping to their prodigious breeches.

Be it excusable in the French to alter and impose the mode on others, 'tis no less a weakness and a shame in the rest of the world, who have no dependence on them, to adimit them, at least to that degree of levity as to turn into all their shapes without discrimination; so as when the freak takes our Monsieurs to appear like so many farces or Jack Puddings on the stage, all the world should alter shape, and play the pantomimes with them.

Methinka a French tailor, with his ell in his hand, looks the euchantress Circe over the companions of Ulysses, and changes them into as many forms. One while we are made to be loose in our clothes, and by and by appear like so many malefactors sewed up in sacks, as of old they were wont to treat a parricide, with a dog, an ape, and a serpent. Now, we are all twist, and at a distance look like a pair of tongs, and anon stuffed out behind like a Dutchinan. This gallant goes so pinched iu the waist, as if he were prepared for the question of the fiery plate in Turkey; and that so loose in the middle, as if he would turn insect, or drop in two; now, the short waists and shirts in Pye-court is the mode; then the wide hose, or a man in coats again. Methinks we should learu to handle distaff too; Hercules did so when he courted Omphale; and those who sacrificed to Ceres put on the petticoat with much confidence. .

It was a fine silken thing which I spied walking tother day through Westminster Hall, that had as much ribbon about him as would have plundered six shops, and set up twenty country pedlers. All his body was dressed like a May-pole, or a Tom-aBedlam's cap. A frigate newly rigged kept not half such a clatter in a storm, as this puppet's streamers did when the wind was in his shrouds; the motion was wonderful to behold, and the well-chosen colours were red, orange, blue, and well gummed satin, which argued a happy fancy; but so was our gallant overcharged, [that] whether he did wear this garment, or as a porter bear it only, was not easily to be resolved....

For my part, I profess that I delight in a cheerful gaiety, affect and cultivate variety. The universe itself were not beautiful to me without it: but as that is in constant and uniform succession in the natural, where men do not disturb it, 80 would I have it also in the artificial. If the kings of Mexico changed four times a day, it was but an upper vest, which they were used to honour some meritorious servant with. Let men change their habits as oft as they please, so the change be for the better. I would have a summer habit, and a winter; for the spring and for the autumn. Something I would indulge to youth; something to age and humour. But wbat have we to do with these foreign butterflies? In God's name, let the change be our own, not borrowed of others; for why should I dance after a Monsieur's flageolet, that have a set of English viols for my concert? We need no French iuyentions for the stage, or for the back.

Wou it was but an upperange their habits as and a winter; for the spind humour. But

SAMUEL PEPYS. Very different from the diary of good and grave John Evelyn is that of his friend SAMUEL PEPYS (1632-1703), who was Secretary of the Admiralty in the reigns of Charles II. and James II. Though not undistinguished in his official career, Pepys would have been slightly remembered had he not left behind him, in short-hand, a diary extending over above nine years, from January 1659-60 to May 1669 -wlich being deciphered and published by Lord Braybrooke in 1825, gave the world a curious and faithful picture of the times, including almost every phase of public and social life, from the gaieties of the court to the pettiest details of domestic economy, business, and amusements. The character of Pepys himself, and his gradual rise in the world, with all his recorded foibles, weaknesses, and peculiari. ties, as displayed in his daily intercourse with society of all classes,

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