it is said that considerable interest was evinced by the members of the house of commons who were present at the fire, as to the fate of their respective bills. one honourable gentleman, in particular, was observed anxiously watching the last scintillations of some burnt paper. “oh, my sabbath observances!” he exclaimed, “there’s an end of religion! there go the parson and clerk!”—public diary.
the earl of m. had a very narrow escape. his lordship was on the point of kicking a bucket when a labourer rushed forward and snatched it out of the way. the individual’s name is m’farrel. we understand he is a sober, honest, hard-working man, and has two wives, and a numerous family; the eldest not above a year old.—daily chronicle.
the exclamation of a noble lord, high in office, who was very active at the fire, has been very incorrectly given. the words were as follows:—“blow the commons! let ’em flare up—but oh,—for a save-all! a save-all.”—morning news.
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the public attention has been greatly excited by the extraordinary statement of a commercial gentleman, that he smelt the fire at the cock and bottle, in coventry. he asserts that he mentioned the fact in the commercial room to a deaf gentleman, and likewise to a dumb waiter, but neither have any recollection of the circumstance. he has been examined before the common council, who have elicited that he actually arrived at coventry on the night in question, by the tallyho, and the near leader of that coach has been sent for by express.—new monitor.
we were in error in stating that the atlas was the first engine at the scene of action. so early as five o’clock mr. alderman a. arrived with his own garden engine, and began immediately to play upon the thames.—british guardian.
it must have struck everyone who witnessed the operations in the house of commons, that there was a lamentable want of “order! order! order!” a great many gentlemen succeeded in making pumps of themselves, without producing any check on the flames. the conduct of the military also was far from unexceptionable. on the arrival of the coldstream at the fire they actually refused to fall in. many declined to stand at ease on the burning rafters—but what is the public interest to a private?—public advertiser.
monsieur c.’s account. (exclusive.)
when i am come first to the fire it was not long burnt up; and i was oblige to walk up and down the floor to keep myself warm. at last, i take my seat on the stove, quite convenient to look about. in the house of commons there was nobody, and i am all alone. the first thing i observe was a great many rats, ratting about—but they did not known which way to turn. so they were all burnt dead. the flames grew very fast; and i am interested very much with the seats, how they burned, quite different from one another. some seats made what you call a great splutter, and popped and bounced, and some other seats
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made no noise at all. mr. bulwer’s place burned of a blue colour; mr. buckstone’s turned quite black; and there was one made a flame the colour of a drab. i observe one green flame and one orange, side by side, and they hiss and roar at one another very furious. the gallery cleared itself quite quickly, and the seat of messieurs the reporters, exploded itself like a cannon of forty-eight pounds. the speaking chair burnt without any sound at all.
when everything is quite done in the commons i leave them off, and go to the house of lords, where the fire was all in one sheet, and almost the whole of its inside burnt out. i was able in this room to take off my great coat. i could find nothing to be saved except one great ink-stand, that was red hot, and which i carry away in my two hands. likewise here, as well as in the commons, i bottled up several bottles of smoke, to distribute afterwards, at five guineas a-piece, and may be more; for i know the english people admire such things, and are fond after reliques, like a madness almost. i did not make a long stop, for whenever i was visible, the pompiers was so foolish as play water upon me, and i was afraid of a catch-cold. in fact, when i arrive at home, i find myself stuffed in my head, and fast in my chest, and my throat was a little horse. i am going for it into a bath of boiling water, and cannot write any more at full length.
a letter to a labouring man.
bushell,
when you made a holiday last whitsuntide to see the sights of london, in your way to the waxwork and westminster abbey, you probably noticed a vast pile of buildings in palace yard, and you stood and scratched that shock head of yours, and wondered whose fine houses they were. seeing you to be a country clodpole, no doubt some well-dressed vagabond, by way of putting a hoax upon the hawbuck, told you that in those
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buildings congregated all the talent, all the integrity and public spirit of the country—that beneath those roofs the best and wisest, and the most honest men to be found in three kingdoms, met to deliberate and enact the most wholesome, and just, and judicious laws for the good of the nation. he called them the oracles of our constitution, the guardians of our rights, and the assertors of our liberties. of course, bushell, you were told all this; but nobody told you, i dare say, that within those walls your master had lifted up his voice, and delivered the only sound, rational, and wholesome, upright, and able speeches that were ever uttered in st. stephen’s chapel. no, nobody told you that. but when i come home, bushell, i will lend you all my printed speeches, and when you have spelt them, and read them, and studied them, and got them by heart, bumpkin as you are,
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bushell, you will know as much of legislation as all our precious members together.
