The country was now in a state of extreme de-
pression, though the plague had abated, except in the
provinces. Commerce in London had been paralysed,
and there was poverty and distress everywhere. On
top of this misery the Great Fire of London broke
out. It was on September 2 that a baker's shop on
the corner of Thames Street caught fire, and the
store of faggots ready for the oven at once blazed up.
The flames spread instantly to neighbouring store-
houses built of wood, and shouldering each other, as
the custom of those days was. These store-houses
held pitch and tar, oakum and timber, and the wind
favouring the conflagration, it swiftly spread over half
London. The people were so confounded by the
greatness of the calamity that they were supine, and
stared at the flames without an effort to put them out.
The sky resembled the top of a heated oven, and
shone with fire. Ten thousand houses were enveloped
in one flame, and at night the glare of the burning
could be seen for forty miles round the city. Evelyn
describes in words of horror the noise and crackling
of the flames, the roar of their advance, the cries of
terrified women and children, the rush of hurrying
people frantic to escape, and the crash of towers and
houses into the deserted streets.[1]
For four days the fire raged, and Charles and his brother, the Duke of York, distinguished themselves by their splendid and gallant efforts. They worked in person to subdue the flames, and ordered, rewarded, and cheered on the workmen who helped them. The Duke of York had the sensible idea of blowing up houses, in order to check thje advance of the fire. It was entirely owing to his happy thought, and the orders of Charles, that the fire was at last arrested at Pie Corner, in Smithfield, and the Temple Church, as well as a few others, were saved from destruction.[2] It was due to Charles that the Abbey and the Tower were not lost, and he shone in this calamity as he
