London has seen more than its fair share of destruction. The Blitz of World War Two razed vast areas of the city and some were never rebuilt. As we make away around the historic City on all our London walks that cover the one square mile we encounter blue plaques that remember long ago buildings that were destroyed in 1666 by the Great Fire of London.

We can stand on a spot and try and recreate the terror and dismay that swept through London as the fire raged through its narrow streets of mid-17th Century London.

Walks are a great way to follow the fires trail of destruction as they provide a way to really get into, so to speak, the flames. But you can’t beat eye witness accounts for bringing home the immediacy of how the people of London tried desperately to halt the fire.

Fortunately for us, Samuel Pepys, the great 17th century diarist, lived close to where the fire began and our Pepys’s London walk takes you through the streets that he knew.

But the most moving part of the walk is when Pepys describes actually witnessing the fire and, since we could never hope to better his “lived through” it account he is going to be our guest blogger today and is going to transport you make to the early hours of a September morning in 1666 when a dull glow on the London skyline gave Londoners the first glimpse of one of London’s greatest catastrophes. Over to you Samuel:

From the diary of Samuel Pepys as recited on our Great Fire of London walk.

Lords day. Some of our maids sitting up late last night to get things ready against our feast today, Jane called us up, about 3 in the morning, to tell us of a great fire they saw in the City.

So I rose, and slipped on my nightgown and went to her window, and thought it to be on the back side of Markelane at the furthest; but being unused to such fires as (allowed, I thought it far enough of and so went to bed again and to sleep.

About 7 rose again to dress myself, and there looked out at the window and saw the fire not so much as it was, and further off. So to my closet to set things to rights after yesterday’s cleaning. By and by. Jane comes and tells me that she hears that above 300 houses have been burned down tonight by the fire we saw, and that it was now burning down all Fishstreet by London Bridge. So I made myself ready presently, and walked to the Tower and there got up upon one of the high places, Sir J. Robinsons little son going up with me; and there I did see the houses at that end of the bridge all on fire, and an infinite great fire on this and the other side the end of the bridge — which, among other people, did trouble me for poor little Michell and our Sarah on the Bridge. So down, with my heart full of trouble, to the Lieutenant of the Tower, who tells me that it begun this morning in the King’s bakers house in Pudding lane, and that it hath burned down St. Magna Church and most part of Fishstreete already.

So I down to the waterside and there got a boat and through the bridge, and there saw a lamentable fire. Poor Michelle house, as far as the Old Swan, little time it got as far as the Stillyard while I was there. Everybody endeavouring to remove their goods, and flinging into the River or bringing them into lighters that lay off Poor people staying in their houses as long as till the very fire touched them, and then running into boats or clambering from one pair of stair by the waterside to another.

And among other things, the poor pigeons I perceive were loath to leave their houses, but hovered about it the windows and balconies  ’till they were some of them burned, their wings, and fell down.

Having stayed, and in an hour’s time seen the fire rage every way, and nobody to my sight endeavouring to quench it, but to remove their goods and leave all to the fire; and having seen it get as far as the Steeleyard, and the wind mighty high and driving it into the city, and everything, after so long a drougth, proving combustible, even the very stones of churches, and among other things, the poor steeple by which pretty Mrs. [Horsley] lives, and whereof my old schoolfellow Elborough is parson, taken fire in the very top and there burned till it fall down.

I to Whitehall with a gentleman with me who desired to go off from the Tower to see the fire in my boat— to Whitehall, and there up to the King’s closet in the chapel, where people came about me and I did give them an account dismayed them all and word was carried in to the King, so I was called for and did tell the King and-Duke of York what I saw, and that unless his Majesty did command houses to be pulled down, nothing could stop the fire.

They seemed much troubled, and the King com¬manded me to go to my Lord Mayor from him and command him to spare no houses but to pull down before the fire every way. The Duke of York bid me tell him that if he would have any more soldiers, he shall; and so did my Lord Arlington afterward, as a great secret. Here meeting with Capt. Cocke, I in his coach, which he lent me, and Creed with me, to Pauls; and there walked along Wading street as well as I could, every creature coming away loaden with- goods to save — and here and there sick people carried away in beds.

Extraordinary good goods carried in carts and on backs. At last met my Lord Mayor in Canning Streete, hie a man spent, with a handkercher about his neck. To the King’s message, he cried like a fainting woman, “Lord, what can I do? I am spend People will not obey me. I have been punting] down houses. But the fire overtakes us faster then we can do it.” That he needed no more soldiers; and that for himself, he must go and refresh himself, having been up all night. So he left me, and I him, and walked home.

How’s that for first hand reporting? This account from a man who was there. A man who saw and spoke with the major players in the drama. But its the little personal observations that really move people when we recite excerpts from the diary on our London walks. That quote “the poor pigeons I perceive were loath to leave their houses, but hovered about it the windows and balconies ’till they were some of them burned, their wings, and fell down” is one such observation that can only have come from someone who was there.