On the other side, on an elevated pavement, stands King Charles II. in a Roman habit, with his temples incircled by a wreath of laurel, and approaching the figure representing the city, with a truncheon in his hand, seems to command three of his attendants to descend to her relief: the first represents the Sciences, with wings on her head, and a circle of naked boys dancing upon it, holding in her hand Nature, with her numerous breasts ready to give assistance to all: the second is, Architecture, with a plan in one hand, and a square and pair of compasses in the other: and the third is, Liberty, waving a hat in the air, shewing her joy at the pleasing prospect of the city’s speedy recovery. Behind the King, stands his brother the Duke of York, with a garland in one hand to crown the rising city, and a sword in the other for her defence. Behind him are Justice and Fortitude, the former with a coronet, and the latter with a reined lion. In the pavement, under the Sovereign’s feet, appears Envy peeping from her cell, and gnawing a heart; and in the upper part of the back ground the re-construction of the city is represented by scaffolds, erected by the sides of unfinished houses, with builders and labourers at work upon them. The other sides of the pedestal have, each, a Latin inscription. That on the north side may be thus rendered. ‘In the year of Christ 1666, the second day of September, eastward from hence, at the distance of 202 feet, (the height of this column) about midnight, a most terrible fire broke out, which, driven by a high wind, not only laid waste the adjacent parts, but also places very remote, with incredible noise and fury: it consumed 89 churches, the city gates, Guildhall, many public structures, hospitals, schools, libraries, a vast number of stately edifices, 13,200 dwelling houses, 400 streets: of twenty-six wards it utterly destroyed fifteen, and left eight others shattered and half burnt. The ruins of the city were 436 acres, from the Tower by the Thames side to the Temple church, and from the north east, along the city wall, to Holborn bridge. To the estates and fortunes of the citizens it was merciless, but to their lives very favourable. That it might, in all things, resemble the last conflagration of the world, the destruction was sudden; for in a small space of time, the same city was seen most flourishing, and reduced to nothing. Three days after, when this fatal fire had, in the opinion of all, baffled all human counsels and endeavours, it stopped, as it were, by a command from heaven, and was on every side extinguished.’ The inscription on the south side is translated thus: