It is also observable that the lead over the altar at the east end was
untouched, and among the divers monuments the body of one bishop remained
entire. Thus lay in ashes that most venerable church, one of the most
ancient pieces of early piety in the Christian world, besides near
one hundred more. The lead, ironwork, bells, plate, etc., melted; the
exquisitely wrought Mercer's Chapel, the sumptuous Exchange, the august
fabric of Christ Church, all the rest of the Companies' Halls, sumptuous
buildings, arches, all in dust; the fountains dried up and ruined, while
the very waters remained boiling; the _voragoes_ of subterranean cellars,
wells, and dungeons, formerly warehouses, still burning in stench and dark
clouds of smoke, so that in five or six miles traversing about I did not
see one load of timber consume, nor many stones but what were calcined
white as snow.
The people who now walked about the ruins appeared like men in a dismal
desert, or rather in some great city laid waste by a cruel enemy: to which
was added the stench that came from some poor creatures' bodies, beds, etc.
Sir Thomas Gresham's statue, though fallen from its niche in the Royal
Exchange, remained entire, when all those of the kings since the Conquest
were broken to pieces; also the standard in Cornhill, and Queen Elizabeth's
effigies, with some arms on Ludgate, continued with but little detriment,
while the vast iron chains of the city streets, hinges, bars, and gates of
prisons, were many of them melted and reduced to cinders by the vehement
heat.
I was not able to pass through any of the narrow streets, but kept the
widest; the ground and air, smoke and fiery vapor, continued so intense
that my hair was almost singed and my feet insufferably surheated. The
by-lanes and narrower streets were quite filled up with rubbish, nor could
one have known where he was but by the ruins of some church or hall that
had some remarkable tower or pinnacle remaining. I then went toward
Islington and Highgate, where one might have seen two hundred thousand
people of all ranks and degrees, dispersed and lying along by their heaps
of what they could save from the fire, deploring their loss, and, though
ready to perish for hunger and destitution, yet not asking one penny for
relief, which to me appeared a stranger sight than any I had yet beheld.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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