Samuel Pepys Diary 1665 - extracts
January 16th
... Ned Pickering met me and tells me how active my Lord is at sea - and that my Lord Hinchingbrooke is now
at Rome, and by all reports a very noble and hopeful gentleman.
January 19th
... This day and yesterday, I think it is the change of the weather, I have a great deal of pain, but nothing like
what I use to have - I can hardly keep myself loose; but on the contrary, am forced to drive away my pain.
Here I am so sleepy, I cannot hold open my eyes nor pen, and therefore must be forced to break off this day's
passages more shortly then I would and should have done.
This day was buried (but I could not be there) my cousin Percivall Angier. And yesterday
received the news that Dr Tom Pepys is dead at Impington - for which I am but little sorry;
not only because he would have been troublesome to us, but a shame to his family and
profession, he was such a coxcomb.
January 20th
... So homeward, in my way buying a hare and taking it home - which arose upon my
discourse today with Mr Batten in Westminster-hall - who showed me my mistake, that my
hares-foot hath not the joint to it, and assures me he never had his colique since he carried it
about him. And it is a strange thing how fancy works, for I no sooner almost handled his foot
but my belly begin to loose and to break wind; and whereas I was in some pain yesterday and
t'other day, and in fear of more today, I became very well, and so continue.
At home to my office a while, and so to supper - read, and to cards and to bed.
February 14th
St Valentine This morning comes betime Dicke Pen to be my wife's valentine, and come to our bedside. By the
same token, I had him brought to my side, thinking to have made him kiss me; but he perceived me, and
would not. So went to his Valentine - a notable, stout, witty boy. I up, about business; and opening the doore,
there was Bagwell's wife, with whom I talked afterwards and she had the confidence to say she came with a
hope to be time enough to be my Valentine, and so endeed she did - but my oath preserved me from losing
any time with her [he had sworn to give up women for a month].
March 21st
Up; and my Taylor coming to me, did consult all my wardrobe, how to order my clothes against next summer.
Then to the office, where busy all the morning. At noon to the Change and brought home Mr. Andrews; an
there with Mr. Sheply dined, and very mery and had a good dinner. Thence to Mr Povys to discourse about
settling our business of Treasurer; and I think all things will go very fayre between us, and to my content. But
the more I see, the more silly the man seems to me. Thence by coach to the Mewes, but Creed was not there. In
our way the coach drove through a lane by Drury-lane, where abundance of loose women stood at the doors,
which, God forgive me, did put evil thoughts in me but proceeded no further, blessed be God.
April 17th
... Thence to White-hall; where the King seeing me, did come to me, and calling me by name, did discourse
with me about the ships in the River; and this is the first time that ever I knew the King did know me
personally, so that hereafter I must not go thither but with expectation to be Questioned, and to be ready to
give good answers.
April 30th
Thus I end this month: in great content as to my estate and gettings. In much trouble as to the pains I have
taken and the rubs I expect yet to meet with about the business of Tanger. The fleet, with about 106 ships,
upon the coast of Holland, in sight of the Dutch within the Texell. Great fears of the Sickenesses here in the
City, it being said that two or three houses are already shut up. God preserve us all.
May 28th
Thence to my Lady Sandwiches, where to my shame I had not been a great while before. Here, upon my
telling her a story of my Lord of Rochester's running away on Friday night last with Mrs Mallett, the great
beauty and fortune of the North, who had supped at White-hall with Mrs Stewart and was going home to her
lodgings with her grandfather, my Lord Haly, by coach, and was at Charing-cross seized on by both horse and
foot-men and forcibly taken from him, and put into a coach with six horses and two women provided to
receive her, and carried away. Upon immediate pursuit, my Lord of Rochester (for whom the King had spoke
to the lady often, but with no success) was taken at Uxbridge; but the lady is not heard of, and the King mighty
angry and the Lord sent to the Tower.
June 7th
... it being the hottest day that ever I felt in my life, and it is confessed so by all other people the hottest they
ever knew in England in the beginning of June - we to the New Exchange and there drunk whey; with much
entreaty, getting it for our money, and would not be entreated to let us have one glasse more. So tok water,
and to Foxe hall to the Spring-garden and there walked an hour or two with great pleasure, saving our minds
ill at ease concerning the fleet and my Lord Sandwich, that we have no news of them, and ill reports run up
and down ofhis being killed, but without ground. Here stayed, pleasantly walking and spending but 6d till 9
at night ....
This day, much against my Will, I did in Drury-lane see two or three houses marked with a red cross upon the
doors, and "Lord have mercy upon us" writ there - which was a sad sight to me, being the first of that kind that
to my remembrance I ever saw. It put me into an ill conception of myself and my smell, so that I was forced to
buy some roll tobacco to smell to and chaw - which took away the apprehension. [Houses infected by the Plague
had to have a red cross one foot high marked on their door and were shut up - often with the victims inside. Tobacco was
highly prized for its medicinal value, especially against the Plague. It is said that at Eton one boy was flogged for being
discovered not smoking.]
June 8th
Victory over the Dutch. June 3rd 1665
This day they engaged - the Dutch neglecting greatly the opportunity of the wind they had of us - by which
they lost the benefit of their fire-ships.
The Earl of Falmouth, Muskey and Mr.Rd. Boyle killed on board the Duke's ship, the Royall Charles, with one
shot. Their blood and brains flying in the Duke's face - and the head of Mr Boyle striking down the Duke, as
some say.
... We have taken and sunk, as is believed, about 24 of their best ships. Killed and taken near 8 or 10000 men;
and lost, we think, not above 700. A great victory, never known in the world. They are all fled; some 43 got
into the Texell and others elsewhere, and we in pursuit of the rest.
Had a great bonfire at the gate; and I with my lady Pens people and others to Mrs Turner's great room, and
then down into the street. I did give the boys 4s among them - and mighty mery; so home to bed - with my
heart at great rest and quiet, saving that the consideration of the victory is too great for me presently to
comprehend.
June 10th
In the evening home to supper, and there to my great trouble hear that the plague is come into the City
(though it hath these three or four weeks since its beginning been wholly out of the City); but where should it
begin but in my good friend and neighbour's, Dr Burnett in Fanchurch-street - which in both points troubles
me mightily.
To the office to finish my letters, and then home to bed - being troubled at the sickness, and my head filled also
with other business enough, and perticularly how to put my things and estate in order, in case it should please
God to call me away - which God dispose of to his own glory.
June 15th
The Duke of Yorke not yet come to town. The town grows very sickly, and people to be afeared of it - there
dying this last wek of the plague 112, from 43 the week before - whereof, one in Fanchurch-street and one in
Broadstreete by the Treasurer's office.
June 30th
Myself and family in good health, consisting of myself and wife - Mercer, her woman - Mary, Alice and Su, our
maids; and Tom, my boy. In a sickly time, of the plague growing on. Having upon my hands the troublesome
care of the Treasury of Tanger, with great sums drawn upon me and nothing to pay them with. Also, the
business of the office great. Consideration of removing my wife to Woolwich. She lately busy in learning to
paint, with great pleasure and successe. All other things well; especially a new interest I am making, by a
match in hand between the eldest son of Sir G Carteret and my Lady Jemimah Mountagu. The Duke of York
gone down to the fleet; but, all suppose, not with intent to stay there - as it is not fit, all men conceive, he
should.
July 17th
...I took my Lady Jem apart and would know how she liked this gentleman [Philip Carteret was lame and Lady
Jemima suffered from a deformity of the neck. Pepys was asked to supervise the courtship] and whether she was under
any difficulty concerning him. She blushed and hid her face awhile, but at last I forced her to tell me; she
answered that she could readily obey what her father and mother had done - which was all she could say or I
expect.
So anon took leave and for London. But Lord, to see, among other things, how all these great people here are
afeared of London, being doubtful of anything that comes from thence or that hath lately been there, that I was
forced to say that I lived wholly at Woolwich.
July 22nd
I met this noon with Dr Burnett, who told me, and I find in the news-book this week that he posted upon the
Change, that whoever did spread that report that instead of the plague, his servant was by him killed, it was
forgery; and showed me the acknowledgement of the maister of the Pest-house that his servant died of a Bubo
on his right groine, and two Spots on his right thigh, which is the plague.
July 26th
I down and walked with Mr. Castle ... and the King having dined, he came down and I went in the barge with
him, I sitting at the door - down to Woolwich ... and back again with him in the barge, hearing him and the
Duke talk and seeing and observing their manner of discourse; and God forgive me, though I adore them with
all the duty possible, yet the more a man considers and observes them, the less he finds of difference between
them and other men, though (blessed be God) they are both princes of great nobleness and spirits.
July 31st
[Philip Carteret and Lady Jemima were married] The young lady mighty sad, which troubled me; but yet I think it
was only her gravity, in a little greater degree then usual.
My Lady Sandwich and I up to settle accounts and pay her some money - and mighty kind she is to me, and
would fain have had me gone down for company with her to Hinchingbrooke - but for my life I cannot. And
so after prayers, Soberly to bed; only, I got into the bridegroom's chamber while he undressed himself, and
there was very merry - till he was called to the bride's chamber and into bed they went. I kissed the bride in
bed, and so the curtaines drawne with the greatest gravity that could be, and so good-night.
Thus I ended this month with the greatest joy that ever I did any in my life, becauseI have spent the greatest
part of it with abundance of joy and honour, and pleasant journys and brave entrtaiments, and without cost of
money. And at last live to see that business ended with great contentment on all sides. Thus we end this
month, as I said, after the greatest glut of content that ever I had; only, under some difficulty because of the
plague, which grows mightily upon us, the last week being about 1700 or 1800 of the plague.
My Lord Sandwich, at sea with a fleet of about 100 sail to the Norward, expect De Ruyter or the Dutch EastIndia fleet.
My Lord Hinchingbrooke coming over from France, and will meet his sister at Scott's hall.
Myself having obliged both these families in this business very much, as both my Lady and Sir G Carteret and
his Lady do confess exceedingly; and the latter two also now call me Cosen, which I am glad of.
So God preserve us all friends long, and continue health among us.
August 16th
It was dark before I could get home; and so land at church-yard stairs, where to my great trouble I met a dead
Corps, of the plague, in the narrow ally, just bringing down a little pair of stairs - but I thank God I was not
much disturbed at it. However, I shall beware of being late abroad again.
August 28th
But now, how few people I see, and those walking like people that have taken leave of the world.... I to the
Exchange, and I think there was not 50 people upon it and but few more like to be, as they told me, Sir G Smith
and others. Thus I think to take Adieu today of London streets ....
August 31st
Up, and after putting several things in order to my removal to Woolwich, the plague having a great increase
this week beyond all expectation, of almost 2000 - making the general Bill 7000, odd 100 and the plague above
6000 ....
Thus this month ends, with great sadness upon the public through the greateness of the plague, everywhere
through the Kingdom almost. Every day sadder and sadder news of its increase. In the City died this week
7496; and all of them, 6102 of the plague. But it is feared that the true number of the dead this week is near
10000 - partly from the poor that cannot be taken notice of through the greatness of the number, and partly
from the Quakers and others that will not have any bell ring for them.
As to myself, I am very well; only, in fear of the plague, and as much of an Ague, by being forced to go early
and late to Woolwich, and my family to lie there continually.
September 14th
...my finding that although the Bill [total of dead] in general is abated, yet the City within the walls is encreasd
and likely to continue so (and is close to our house there) - my meeting dead corps's of the plague, carried to
be buried close to me at noonday through the City in Fanchurch-street - to see a person sick of the sores carried
close by me by Grace-church in a hackney-coach - my finding the Angell tavern at the lower end of Tower-hill
shut up; and more then that, the alehouse at the Tower-stairs; and more then that, that the person was then
dying of the plague when I was last there, a little while ago at night, to write a short letter there, and I
overheard the mistress of the house sadly saying to her husband somebody was very ill, but did not think it
was of the plague - to hear that poor Payne my waterman hath buried a child and is dying himself - to hear
that a labourer I sent but the other day to Dagenhams to know how they did there is dead of the plague and
that one of my own watermen, that carried me daily, fell sick as soon as he had landed me on Friday morning
last, when I had been all night upon the water ... is now dead of the plague - to hear ... that Mr Sidny
Mountagu is sick of a desperate fever at my Lady Carteret's at Scott's hall - to hear that Mr. Lewes hath another
daughter sick - and lastly, that both my servants, W Hewers and Tom Edwards, have lost their fathers, both in
St. Sepulcher's parish, of the plague this week - doth put me into great apprehensions of melancholy, and with
good reason.
1666 - extracts
Oh the miserable and calamitous spectacle!
September 2, 1666
Nearly every housewife has made the same mistake, usually with no great consequence. But on September 2, 1666 the result
was apocalyptic. Thomas Farrinor, baker to King Charles II of England, neglected, in effect, to turn off his oven. He thought the
fire was out, but apparently the smouldering embers ignited some nearby firewood and by one o'clock in the morning, three
hours after Farrinor went to bed, his house in Pudding Lane was in flames. Farrinor, along with his wife and daughter, and one
servant, luckily escaped from the burning building through an upstairs window, but the baker's maid paid dearly for his
carelessness, becoming the Great Fire's first victim. Did these cakes set fire to London? Or see Sir R Vinor's explanation to
Pepys.
The fire then leapt across Fish Street Hill and engulfed the Star Inn. The London of
1666 was a city of half-timbered, pitch-covered medieval buildings that ignited at the
touch of a spark--and a strong wind on that September morning ensured that sparks
flew everywhere. From the Inn, the fire spread into Thames Street, where riverfront
warehouses were bursting with oil, tallow, and other combustible goods. By now the
fire had grown too fierce to combat with the crude firefighting methods of the day,
which consisted of little more than bucket brigades armed with wooden pails of water.
The usual solution during a fire of such size was to demolish every building in the
path of the flames in order to deprive the fire of fuel, but the city's mayor hesitated,
fearing the high cost of rebuilding. Meanwhile, the fire spread out of control, doing far
more damage than anyone could possibly have managed.
Soon the flames were visible from Seething Lane, near the Tower of London, where Samuel Pepys first noted them without
concern:
Pepys Diary Entry, September 2 1666
Some of our maids sitting up late last night to get things ready against our feast today, Jane called 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 night-gown and went to her window, and
thought it to be on the back side of Mark 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. . . . By and by Jane comes and tells me that she hears that above 300 houses have
been burned down tonight 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, . . .and there I did see the houses at the end of the bridge all on fire, and
an infinite great fire on this and the other side . . . of the bridge. . . .
So down [I went], with my heart full of trouble, to the Lieutenant of the Tower, who
tells me that it began 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
rode down to the waterside, . . . and there saw a lamentable fire. . . . Everybody
endeavouring to remove their goods, and flinging into the river or bringing them
into lighters that lay off; 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 waterside to another. And among other things, the poor pigeons, I perceive, were loth to leave their houses, but hovered
about the windows and balconies, till they some of them burned their wings and fell down.
Having stayed, and in an hour's time seen the fire rage every way, and nobody to my sight endeavouring to quench it, . . . I
[went next] to Whitehall (with a gentleman with me, who desired to go off from the Tower to see the fire in my boat); and there
up to the King's closet in the Chapel, where people came about me, and I did give them an account [that]dismayed them all, and
the word was carried into the King. so I was called for, and did tell the King and Duke of York 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 from him, and command him to spare no houses. . . .
[I hurried] to [St.] Paul's; and there walked along Watling Street, as well as I could, every creature coming away laden with
goods to save and, here and there, sick people carried away in beds. Extraordinary goods carried in carts and on backs. At last
[I] met my Lord Mayor in Cannon Street, like a man spent, with a [handkerchief] 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.' . . . So he left me, and I him, and walked home; seeing people all 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 tar, in Thames Street; and warehouses of oil and wines and brandy and other things.
On February 24th 1667 Pepys notes in his diary:
Asking Sir R Viner what he thought was the cause of the fire, he tells me that the Baker, son and his daughter did all swear
again and again that their Oven was drawn by 10 a-clock at night. That having occasion to light a candle about 12, there was not
so much fire in the bakehouse as to light a match for a candle, so as they were fain to go into another place to light it. That about
2 in the morning they felt themselves almost choked with smoke; and rising, did find the fire coming upstairs - so they rose to
save themselfs; but that at that time the bavins were not on fire in the yard. So that they are, as they swear, in absolute ignorance
how this fire should come - which is a strange thing, that so horrid an effect should have so mean and uncertain a beginning.
Even on February 28th 1667 Pepys notes:
I did within these six days see smoke still remaining of the late fire in the City; and it is strange to think how to this very day I
cannot sleep a-night without great terrors of fire; and this very night I could not sleep till almost 2 in the morning through
thoughts of fire.
and on March 16th 1667:
The weather is now grown warm again, after much cold weather; and it is observable that within these eight days I did see
smoke remaining, coming out of some cellars, from the late great Fire, now above six months since.
and on May 5th:
Sir Jo Robinson ... doth tell me of at least six or eight fires within these few days, and continually stories of fires; and real fires
there have been in one place or other almost ever since the late great Fire, as if there was a fate over people for fire.
Hollar's 'Exact Surveigh' of the City of London, 1667
View the Times Educational Supplement's (TES) interactive resource on The Great Fire and accompanying
teachers notes
John Evelyn
John Evelyn took even less note of the fire during its first hours than had Pepys. His journal entry for the 2nd, the day on which
Pudding Lane first erupted, contains only the briefest of mentions. By the following day, however, Evelyn was drawn into the
unfolding spectacle:
I had public prayers at home. The fire continuing, after dinner I took coach with my wife and son and went to the Bank side in
Southwark, where we beheld that dismal spectacle, the whole city in flames near the water side; all the houses from the Bridge,
all Thames street, and upwards towards Cheapside, down to the Three Cranes, were now consumed: and so [we] returned
exceeding 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 10 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, Fen-church street, Gracious street, and so along to Bainard'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, 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 among them, so as
it burned both in breadth and length, the churches, public halls, Exchange, hospitals, monuments, and ornaments, leaping after a
prodigious manner, from house to house and street to street, at great distances from one 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, the carts, &c. carrying out to the fields, which for
many miles were strewed with moveables 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 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
40 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 people, the fall of towers, houses, and churches, was like an hideous storm,
and the air all about so hot and inflamed that at 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 50 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 civitatum: the ruins resembling the picture of Troy.
London was, but is no more! Thus, I returned.
September 4th
The burning still rages, and it was 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 St. Paul's flew like
[grenades], 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 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.
September 5th
It crossed towards White-hall; 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, whilst the rest of the
gentlemen took their several posts, some at one part, some at another (for they now 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, &c. would not permit, because their houses must have been [among the first to be
levelled]. It was therefore now commanded to be practised, 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 [the fire] 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, [that] 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, &c. did infinite mischief, so as the invective which a little before I had
dedicated to his Majesty and published, giving warning of what might probably be the issue of suffering those shops to be in the
City, was looked on 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 extremest 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.
Fires in the 17th Century
Pepys records 15 fires in his diary in addition to the Great Fire.
Most houses in London had timber frames. They were often high and were crammed together with little if any space between.
Heating was by fires and lighting was by candles, whether rush, tallow or beeswax. Everywhere there were flammable materials
- hay in stables, pitch and tar by the river for ships and boats, wood in yards everywhere, kindling in bakeries such as the one
where the Great Fire began.
Fire fighters were not organised and had often little more than buckets and large syringes to spread the water. More effective
was gunpowder to force a fire break and grappling irons to pull down thatch or weak timbers.
In January 1673 fire destroyed Pepys own house and in 1684 a later house was saved only by having his neighbour's house
blown up.
One of the results of these fires was that insurance companies began to take some responsibility for property loss and after about
1772 they established fire brigades. Houses rebuilt after the Great Fire were built to stricter regulations which included brick
construction and improved water supplies.
The fire destroyed about four-fifths of the city, including roughly 13,200 houses, nearly 90 parish churches, and nearly 50 livery
company halls--in all an area of more than 430 acres. In the aftermath, Sir Christopher Wren, the great architect, designed and
oversaw the construction of 49 new churches, as well as the new St. Paul's Cathedral. Amazingly, the fire claimed only 16 lives
and may actually have saved countless more. After 5th September, the Black Plague, which had ravished London since 1664,
abruptly declined, probably because so few of the rats that helped to transmit the disease escaped the flames.
Samuel Pepys is the best known diarist of his day. Although he was a minor public official, his diary contains more details of
his private life than of London politics. Still, his accounts of both the Black Death and the Great Fire show that he was less than
in awe of persons holding high office.
John Evelyn was an English writer best known for his diary, which, along with that of Samuel Pepys, provides us with our best
glimpse into the social world of 17th century London. Evelyn was an ardent Royalist during the English Civil War, and held
several minor offices after the Restoration.
See also:
Cheapside, London
The Great Fire
St Brides Church, Fleet Street