And yet, in this general apprehension, nobody durst quit their tottering habitations; for, whatever the danger was within doors, it was worse without. The bricks, tiles, and stones, from the tops of the houses, flew with such force, and so thick in the streets, that no one thought fit to venture out, though their houses were near demolished within.
The author of this relation was in a well built brick house in the skirts of the city, and a stack of chimneys falling in upon the next houses, gave the house such a shock, that they thought it was just coming down upon their heads: but opening the door to attempt an escape into a garden, the danger was so apparent, that they all thought fit to surrender to the disposal of Almighty Providence, and expect their graves in the ruins of the house, rather than to meet most certain destruction in the open garden. For, unless they could have gone above two hundred yards from any building, there had been no security; for the force of the wind blew the tiles point blank; though their weight inclines them downward, and in several very broad streets we saw the windows broken by the flying of tile-sherds from the other side: and where there was room for them to fly, the author of this has seen tiles blown from a house above thirty or forty yards, and stuck from five to eight inches into the solid earth. Pieces of timber, iron and sheets of lead, have from higher buildings been blown much farther, as in the particulars hereafter will appear.
It is the received opinion of abundance of people that they felt, during the impetuous fury of the wind, several movements of the earth, and we have several letters which affirm it. But as an earthquake must have been so general that everybody must have discerned it, and as the people were in their houses when they imagined they felt it, the shaking and terror of which might deceive their imagination, and impose upon their judgment, I shall not venture to affirm it was so. And being resolved to use so much caution in this relation as to transmit nothing to posterity without authentic vouchers, and such testimony as no reasonable man will dispute, so, if any relation came in our way, which may afford us a probability, though it may be related for the sake of its strangeness or novelty, it shall nevertheless come in the company of all its uncertainties, and the reader left to judge of its truth: for this account had not been undertaken, but with design to undeceive the world in false relations, and to give an account backed with such authorities, as that the credit of it should admit of no disputes.
For this reason I cannot venture to affirm that there was any such thing as an earthquake; but the concern and consternation of all people was so great, that I cannot wonder at their imagining several things which were not, any more than their enlarging on things that were, since nothing is more frequent, than for fear to double every object, and impose upon the understanding: strong apprehensions being apt very often to persuade us of the reality of such things which we have no other reasons to show for the probability of than what are grounded in those fears which prevail at that juncture.
Others thought they heard it thunder. ’Tis confessed, the wind, by its unusual violence made such a noise in the air as had a resemblance to thunder, and it was observed, the roaring had a voice as much louder than usual, as the fury of the wind was greater than was ever known. The noise had also something in it more formidable; it sounded aloft, and roared not very much unlike remote thunder.
And yet, though I cannot remember to have heard it thunder, or that I saw any lightning, or heard of any that did in or near London; yet, in the country the air was seen full of meteors and vaporous fires: and in some places both thunderings and unusual flashes of lightning, to the great terror of the inhabitants.
And yet I cannot but observe here, how fearless such people as are addicted to wickedness, are both of God’s judgments and uncommon prodigies; which is visible in this particular, that a gang of hardened rogues assaulted a family at Poplar, in the very height of the storm, broke into the house, and robbed them: it is observable, that the people cried thieves, and after that cried fire, in hopes to raise the neighbourhood, and to get some assistance; but such is the power of self-preservation, and such was the fear the minds of the people were possessed with, that nobody would venture out to the assistance of the distressed family, who were rifled and plundered in the middle of all the extremity of the tempest. It would admit of a large comment here, and perhaps not very unprofitable, to examine from what sad defect in principle it must be that men can be so destitute of all manner of regard to invisible and superior power, to be acting one of the vilest parts of a villain, while infinite power was threatening the whole world with desolation, and multitudes of people expected the last day was at hand.
Several women in the city of London who were in travail, or who fell into travail by the fright of the storm, were obliged to run the risk of being delivered with such help as they had; and midwives found their own lives in such danger, that few of them thought themselves obliged to shew any concern for the lives of others.
Furious fire in Norfolk.
Fire was the only mischief that did not happen to make the night completely dreadful; and yet that was not so everywhere, for in Norfolk, the town of ---- was almost ruined by a furious fire, which burnt with such vehemence, and was so fanned by the tempest, that the inhabitants had no power to concern themselves in the extinguishing it; the wind blew the flames, together with the ruins, so about, that there was no standing near it; for if the people came to windward they were in danger to be blown into the flames; and if to leeward the flames were so blown up in their faces, they could not bear to come near it.
If this disaster had happened in London, it must have been very fatal; for as no regular application could have been made for the extinguishing it, so the very people in danger would have had no opportunity to have saved their goods, and hardly their lives: for though a man will run any risk to avoid being burnt, yet it must have been next to a miracle, if any person so obliged to escape from the flames had escaped being knocked on the head in the streets; for the bricks and tiles flew about like small shot; and it was a miserable sight in the morning after the storm, to see the streets covered with tile-sherds, and heaps of rubbish from the tops of the houses, lying almost at every door.
From two of the clock the storm continued, and increased till five in the morning; and from five, to half-an-hour after six, it blew with the greatest violence: the fury of it was so exceeding great for that particular hour and a half, that if it had not abated as it did, nothing could have stood its violence much longer.
In this last part of the time the greatest part of the damage was done: several ships that rode it out till now, gave up all; for no anchor could hold. Even the ships in the river Thames were all blown away from their moorings, and from Execution Dock to Limehouse Hole there was but four ships that rid it out, the rest were driven down into the Bite, as the sailors call it, from Bell Wharf to Limehouse; where they were huddled together and drove on shore, heads and sterns, one upon another, in such a manner, as any one would have thought it had been impossible: and the damage done on that account was incredible.
Together with the violence of the wind, the darkness of the night added to the terror of it; and as it was just new moon, the spring tides being then up at about four o’clock, made the vessels, which were afloat in the river, drive the farther up upon the shore: of all which, in the process of this story, we shall find very strange instances.
The points from whence the wind blew, are variously reported from various hands: it is certain, it blew all the day before at S. W., and I thought it continued so till about two o’clock; when, as near as I could judge by the impressions it made on the house, for we durst not look out, it veered to the S.S.W. then to the W. and about six o’clock to W. by N., and still the more northward it shifted, the harder it blew, till it shifted again southerly about seven o’clock; and as it did so, it gradually abated.
About eight o’clock in the morning it ceased so much, that our fears were also abated, and people began to peep out of doors; but it is impossible to express the concern that appeared in every place; the distraction and fury of the night was visible in the faces of the people, and every body’s first work was to visit and inquire after friends and relations. The next day or two was almost entirely spent in the curiosity of the people, in viewing the havoc the storm had made, which was so universal in London,