Company of Mercers.

Before the dreadful fire, there were all around the quadrangle of this Royal Exchange the statues of the sovereign princes, since what was called the Norman Conquest, and by the care and cost of the city companies most of those niches were again filled with the like curious statues, in marble or alabaster.

St. Paul's Cathedral was new building at the time of the fire, the stone work almost finished; but, it is now rebuilt with greater solidity, magnificence and splendour, by the most renowned architect, Sir Christopher Wren.

Not far from the college of Doctor's Commons stood the College of Heralds, in an ancient house called Derby House, being built by Thomas Stanly, Earl of Derby, who married Margaret, Countess of Richmond, mother of King Henry the Seventh, where their records were preserved. This college was burnt down, but the books and records were preserved, and placed, by the king's appointment, at the lower end of the Court of Requests.

Since the late dreadful fire this college has been handsomely rebuilt, upon St. Bennet's-hill, near Doctor's Commons, where their library is now kept. The house of St. Bartholomew's Hospital escaped the fury of the great fire, but most of the estates belonging to it were consumed.

The companies' halls were rebuilt, all at the charges of each fraternity, with great magnificence; being so many noble structures or palaces, with gallant frontispieces, stately courts, spacious rooms. The halls, especially, from which the whole are named, are not only ample enough to feast all the livery in each company, some to the number of three or four hundred, but many of them are fit to receive a crowned head with all its nobles—those of each of the twelve companies especially. The Company of Mercers, beside their hall, have a sumptuous and spacious chapel for divine service.

Those city gates which were burnt down, as Ludgate and Newgate, were rebuilt with great solidity and magnificence.

The attempt to make Fleet brook or ditch navigable to Holborn Bridge, was a mighty chargeable and beautiful work, and though it did not fully answer the designed purpose, it was remarkable for the curious stone bridges over it, and the many huge vaults on each side thereof, to treasure up Newcastle coals for the use of the poor.

The whole damage sustained by the fire is almost inconceivable and incredible; but the following method of computation hath been taken, to form some sort of gross estimate; and at the time was accounted very moderate:—

Besides melioration money paid to several proprietors who had their ground taken away, for the making of wharves, enlarging the old, or making new streets, market places, &c.

The fire spread itself, beside breadth, from almost Tower-hill, to St. Dunstan's church in Fleet-street. After it had burnt almost three days and three nights, some seamen taught the people to blow up some of the next houses with gunpowder; which stopped the fire: so that, contrary to the inscription on the Monument, there were human counsels in the stopping of the fire. It stopped at Holborn Bridge, at St. Sepulchre's church, when the church was burnt, in Aldgate and Cripplegate, and other places on the wall; in Austin Friars, the Dutch church stopped it, and escaped. It stopped in Bishopsgate-street, in Leadenhall-street, in the midst of Fenchurch-street, and near the Tower. Alderman Jefferies lost tobacco to the value of twenty thousand pounds.

Extract from the certificates of the Surveyors appointed to survey the ruins.

The fire began September 2nd, 1666, at Mr. Farryner's, a baker, in Pudding-lane, between one and two in the morning, and continued burning till the 6th; did overrun three hundred and seventy-three acres, within the walls. Eighty-nine parish churches, besides chapels burnt. Eleven parishes, within the walls standing. Houses burnt, thirteen thousand and two hundred.

Jonas Moore, }
Ralph Gatrix, } Surveyors.

The superstition and zeal of those times made canonization much cheaper in a Protestant than a Popish Church. A vehement preacher was a chief saint among the godly, and a few warm expressions were esteemed little less than prophecies.

In the dedication to the Rev. Mr. Reeves's sermon, preached 1655, are the following queries:—

"Can sin and the city's safety, can impenitency and impunity stand long together? Fear you not some plague? Some coal blown with the breath of the Almighty, that may sparkle and kindle, and burn you to such cinders, that not a wall or pillar may be left to testify the rememberance of a city?"

The same gentleman says:[6] "Your looking-glasses will be snatched away, your mirrors cracked, your diamonds shivered in pieces; this goodly city all in shreds. Ye may seek for a pillar or threshold of your ancient dwellings, but not find one. All your spacious mansions and sumptuous monuments are then gone. Not a porch, pavement, ceiling, staircase, turret, lantern, bench, screen, pane of a window, post, nail, stone, or dust of your former houses to be seen. No, with wringing hands you may ask, where are those sweet places where we traded, feasted, slept? where we lived like