On Sunday evening Gracechurch Street was on fire; and the flames
spread onwards till they reached, and in their fury consumed, the
Three Cranes in the Vintry. Night came, but darkness had fled
from the city; and for forty miles round all was luminous. And
there were many who in the crimson hue of the heavens, beheld an
evidence of God's wrath at the sins of the nation, which it was
now acknowledged were many and great.
Throughout Sunday night the fire grew apace, and those who, in
the morning had carried their belongings to parts of the city
which they believed would by distance ensure safety, were now
obliged to move them afresh, the devastation extending for miles.
Therefore many were compelled to renew their labours, thereby
suffering further fatigue; and they now trusted to no protection
for their property save that which the open fields afforded.
Monday morning came and found the flames yet raging. Not only
Gracechurch Street, but Lombard Street, and part of Fenchurch
street, were on fire. Stately mansions, comfortable homes,
warehouses of great name, banks of vast wealth, were reduced to
charred and blackened walls or heaps of smoking ruins. Buildings
had been pulled down, but now too late to render service; for the
insatiable fire, yet fed by a high wind, had everywhere marched
over the dried woodwork and mortar as it lay upon the ground, and
communicated itself to the next block of buildings; so that its
circumvention was regarded as almost an impossibility.
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