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cern 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 ye entrance of Smithfield north. But 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 days' 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 mischeife, 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 utensills, bed or board, who, from delicatenesse, riches, and easy accommodations in stately and well furnish'd houses, were now reduc'd to extreamest 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 ruine was like Lot, in my little Zoar, safe and sound. 7th. I went this morning on foote fm Whitehall as far as London Bridge, thro' the late Fleete Street, Ludgate Hill, by St Paules, Cheapeside, Exchange, Bishopgate, Aldersgate, 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 ye houses about the graff, which being built intirely about it, had they taken fire and attack'd the White Tower where the magazine of powder lay, would undoubtedly not only have beaten downe and destroy'd all ye bridge, but sunke and torne the vessells in ye river, and render'd ye demolition beyond all expression for several miles about the countrey.

At my return, I was infinitely concern'd to find that goodly church St Paules, now a sad ruine, and that beautiful portico (for structure comparable to any in Europe, as not long before repair'd by the king) now rent in pieces, flakes of vast stone 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 massie 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 broke 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 august fabriq of Christ Church, all ye rest of the Companies Halls, sumptuous buildings, arches, all in dust; the fountaines dried up and ruin'd, whilst the very waters remain'd boiling; the vorago's of subterranean cellars, wells, 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 statute, tho' fallen from its nich in the Royal Exchange, remain'd intire, when all those of ye kings since ye Conquest were broken to pieces, also the standard in Cornehill, and Q. Elizabeth's effigies, with some armes 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 so intense, that my haire was almost sing'd, and my 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 ruines of some church or hall, that had some remarkable tower or pinnacle remaining. 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 losse ; 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 imaginable care for their reliefe, by proclamation for the country to come in and refresh them with provisions. In ye midst of all this calamity and confusion, 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 truth, 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 casualy met, without sense or reason. The clamour and peril grew so excessive, that it made the whole court amaz'd, and they did with infinite 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 watch'd 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 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 [1680].-I dined with Sir Stephen Fox, now one of the Lords Commissioners of the Treasury. This gentleman came first a poor boy from the quire 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
frequently employed him about their affairs; trusted
him both with receiving and paying the little money
they had. Returning with his majesty to England,
after great wants and great sufferings, his majesty
found him so honest and industrious, and 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 army; and by his dex-
terity 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 unenvied,
which is next to a miracle. With all this, he con-
tinues as 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 Brounker. 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 Stephen'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 handsome person, virtuous, and very
religious.*

which she arrived to that perfection, that of the scholars of those famous two masters, Signors Pietro and Bartholomeo, she was esteemed the best; for the sweetness of her voice and management of it added such an agreeableness to her countenance, without any constraint or concern, that when she sung, it was as charming to the eye as to the ear; this I rather note, because it was a universal remark, and for which so many noble and judicious persons in music desired to hear her, the last being at Lord Arundel of Wardour's. What shall I say, or rather not say, of the cheerfulness and agreeableness of her hu mour? Condescending to the meanest 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. Piety was so prevalent an ingredient in her constitution (as I may say), that even among equals and superiors, she no sooner became intimately acquainted, but she would endeavour to improve them by insinuating something of religious, and that tended to bring them to a love of devotion. She had one or two confidants, with whom she used to pass whole days in fasting, reading, and prayers, especially before the monthly communion and other solemn occasions. She abhorred flattery, and though she had abundance of wit, the raillery was so innocent and ingenious, that it was most agreeable; she sometimes would see a play, but, since the stage grew licentious, expressed herself weary of them; and the time spent at the theatre was an unaccountable vanity. She never played at cards without extreme importunity, and for the company; but this was so very seldom, that I cannot number it among anything she could name a fault. No one could read prose or verse better or with more judg ment; and, as she read, so she writ, not only most correct orthography, [but] with that maturity of [Evelyn's Account of his Daughter Mary.+] judgment and exactness of the periods, choice of expressions, and familiarity of style, that some letters of March 10. She received the blessed sacrament; hers have astonished me and others to whom she has after which, disposing herself to suffer what God occasionally written. She had a talent of rehearsing should determine to inflict, she bore the remainder of any comical part or poem, as, to them she might be her sickness with extraordinary patience and piety, decently free with, was more pleasing than heard on and more than ordinary resignation and blessed frame the theatre. She danced with the greatest grace I of mind. She died the 14th, to our unspeakable sorhave ever seen, and so would her master say, who was row and affliction; and not to ours only, but that of Monsieur Isaac; but she seldom showed that perfecall who knew her, who were many of the best quality, tion, save in gracefulness of her carriage, which was greatest and most virtuous persons. The justness of with an air of sprightly modesty not easily to be deher stature, person, comeliness of countenance, grace- scribed. Nothing affected, but natural and easy in fulness of motion, unaffected though more than ordi- her deportment as in her discourse, which was always narily beautiful, were the least of her ornaments, com- material, not trifling, and to which the extraordinary pared with those of her mind. Of early piety, singu- sweetness of her tone, even in familiar speaking, was larly religious, spending a part of every day in private very charming. Nothing was so pretty as her descenddevotion, reading, and other virtuous exercises; she ing to play with little children, whom she would caress had collected and written out many of the most useand humour with great delight. But she was most ful and judicious periods of the books she read in a affected to be with grave and sober men, of whom she kind of common-place, as out of Dr Hammond on might learn something and improve herself. I have the New Testament, and most of the best practical been assisted by her in reading and praying by me; treatises. She had read and digested a considerable comprehensive of uncommon notions, curious of knowdeal of history and of places [geography]. The French ing everything to some excess, had I not sometimes tongue was as familiar to her as English; she under-repressed it. Nothing was so delightful to her as to stood 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 she played a thorough base on the harpsichord, in both *Sir Stephen Fox was the progenitor of the noble house of Holland, so remarkable for the line of distinguished states

men which it has given to England.

This young lady died of small-pox, March 1685, in her twentieth year.

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 the 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, nor needed we other conversation. She was kind to her sisters, and

was still improving them by her constant course of piety. Oh dear, sweet, and desirable child! how shall I part with all this goodness and virtue without the bitterness of sorrow and reluctancy 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.'*]

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, so 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 what 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 inventions for the stage, or for the back.

SIR ROGER L'ESTRANGE.

'Twas a witty expression of Malvezzi, I vestimenti negli animali sono molto sicuri segni della loro natura; negli huomini del lor cervello,-garments (says he) in animals are infallible signs of their nature; in men, of their understanding. Though I would not judge of the monk 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 gar- the reigns of Charles II. and James VII., great notoSIR ROGER L'ESTRANGE (1616-1704) enjoyed, in ment, with their power, and that the vicissitude of their habit was little better than a presage of that of riety as an occasional political writer. During the their fortune; for the military saga, differencing rebellion he had fought as a royalist soldier: being them from their slaves, was no small indication of captured by the parliamentary army, he was tried the declining of their courage, which shortly followed. and condemned to die, and lay in prison almost four And I am of opinion that when once we shall see the years, constantly expecting to be led forth to exeVenetian senate quit the gravity of their vests, thecution. He was at length set free, and lived in state itself will not long subsist without some conalmost total obscurity till the Restoration, when he siderable alteration. I am of opinion that the Swiss was rewarded with the invidious post of licenser of had not been now a nation but for keeping to their the press. From this time, till a few years before prodigious breeches. his death, he was constantly occupied in the editing

*

*

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 admit 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.

Methinks a French tailor, with his ell in his hand, looks the enchantress Circe over the companions of Ulysses, and changes them into as many forms. One while we are made to be so 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 Dutchman. This gallant goes so pinched in 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 learn to handle distaff too: Hercules did so when he courted Omphale; and those who sacrificed to Ceres put on the petticoat with much confidence. *

[graphic]

*

Sir Roger L'Estrange.

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 pedlars. All his body was dressed like a May-pole, or a Tom-a- of newspapers and writing of pamphlets, mostly Bedlam's cap. A frigate newly rigged kept not half in behalf of the court, from which he at last resuch a clatter in a storm, as this puppet's streamers ceived the honour of knighthood. He is generally did when the wind was in his shrouds; the motion considered to have been the first writer who sold his was wonderful to behold, and the well-chosen colours services in defence of any measure, good or bad. As were red, orange, blue, and well gummed satin, which a controversialist, he was bold, lively, and vigorous, argued a happy fancy; but so was our gallant over-scrupulous regarder of truth. He is known also but coarse, impudent, abusive, and by no means a charged, [that] whether he did wear this garment, or

* A rare pamphlet by Evelyn.

as a translator, having produced versions of Æsop's Fables, Seneca's Morals, Cicero's Offices, Erasmus's

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