"As to the floors, they are usually made of clay, covered with rushes that grew in fens, which are so slightly removed now and then, that the lower part remains sometimes for twenty years together, and in it a collection of spittle, vomit, urine of dogs and men, beer, scraps of fish, and other filthiness not to be named. Hence, upon change of weather, a vapour is exhaled, very pernicious, in my opinion, to the human body. Add to this, that England is not only surrounded with the sea, but in many parts is fenny, and intersected with streams of a brackish water; and that salt fish is the common and the favourite food of the poor. I am persuaded that the Island would be far more healthy, if the use of these rushes were quite laid aside, and the chambers so built as to let in the air on two or three sides, with such glass windows as might be either thrown quite open, or kept quite shut, without small crannies to let in the wind. For, as it is useful sometimes to admit a free air, so is it sometimes to exclude it. The common people laugh at a man who complains that he is affected by changeable and cloudy weather; but, for my part, for these thirty years past, if I ever entered
into a room which had been uninhabited for some months, immediately I grew feverish. It would also be of great benefit, if the lower people could be persuaded to eat less of their salt fish; and if public officers were appointed to see that the streets were kept free from mud and ——, and that not only in the City, but in the Suburbs. You will smile, perhaps, and think that my time lies upon my hands, since I employ it in such speculations; but I have a great affection for a country which received me so hospitably for a considerable time, and I shall be glad to end the remainder of my days in it if it be possible. Though I know you to be better skilled in these things than I pretend to be, yet I could not forbear from giving you my thoughts, that, if we are both of a mind, you may propose the project to men in authority; since even Princes have not thought such regulations to be beneath their inspection."
The tyrant who then reigned could not plead ignorance of the causes which almost depopulated London. A physician cannot offend when he talks of health to his patron. Wolsey must have heard the above truths repeated by Francis, and the name of Erasmus must have enforced his arguments: the haughty Cardinal accomplished far more unworthy objects with his master than a consideration of the health of his people would have been; therefore each were criminal in not
doing that for the benefit of the publick which a nod from absolute power could effect. A despicable disregard of decency evidently prevailed in the royal breasts of the Monarchs who reigned between the Conquest and the great Fire; the plague, the leprosy, and the sweating-sickness, reigned with them; filth in the dark confined streets, and filth in every house, made infection eternal; and yet not one step appears to have been taken in obedience to instinct—Instinct makes a man inimical to dirt.
Heaven be praised, old London was burnt. Good reader, turn to the views, in order to see what it has been; observe those hovels convulsed; imagine the chambers within them, and wonder why the plague, the leprosy, and the sweating-sickness, raged. Turn then to the prints illustrative of our present dwellings, and be happy.
The misery of 1665 must have operated on the minds of the Legislature and the Citizens, when they rebuilt and inhabited their houses. The former enacted many salutary clauses for the preservation of health, and would have done more, had not the publick rejected that which was for their benefit; those who preferred high habitations and narrow dark streets had them. It is only to be lamented, that we are compelled to suffer for their folly. These errors are now frequently partially removed by the exertion of
the Corporation of London; but a complete reformation is impossible.
It is a fallacy to say that the New River now exclusively prevents infectious disorders by the distribution of its water through the City, as it is well known to have been introduced to the houses very many years before 1665. It is to the improved dwellings composed of brick, the wainscot or papered walls, the high cielings, the boarded floors, and large windows, and cleanliness, that we are indebted for the general preservation of health since 1666. From that auspicious year the very existence of the natives of London improved; their bodies moved in a large space of pure air; and, finding every thing clean and new around them, they determined to keep them so. Previously-unknown luxuries and improvements in furniture were suggested; and a man of moderate fortune saw his house vie with, nay superior to, the old palaces of his governors. When he paced his streets, he felt the genial Western breeze pass him, rich with the perfumes of the country, instead of the stench described by Erasmus; and looking upward, he beheld the beautiful blue of the air, variegated with fleecy clouds, in place of projecting black beams and plaster, obscured by vapour and smoke. But there were other blessings, which he thought not of, that are attained by his successors; and those I shall proceed to describe chronologically, after
introducing the assertions of M. de Grosley on the state of London with respect to Cleanliness circa 1750. That gentleman observes, in his Tour to London, that "the plate, hearth-stones (generally marble), moveables, apartments, doors, stairs, the very street-doors, their locks, and the large brass knockers (almost exclusively iron at present), are every day washed, scowered, or rubbed. Even in lodging-houses, the middle of the stairs is often covered with carpeting, to prevent them from being soiled. All the apartments in the house have mats or carpets; and the use of them has been adopted some years since by the French."
The streets of London must have been dangerously dark during the winter nights before it was burnt: lanterns with candles were very sparingly scattered, nor was light much better distributed even in the new streets previous to the last century.