Christmas miscellany

There are only a few days to go before Christmas. In the UK, like many western countries, people seem geared towards an over-indulgent holiday season. Too much money will be spent on presents. Too much food and drink will be consumed. Too much effort will go into trying to ensure everyone has a wonderful time. Too much time will be spent watching special programmes on TV. And too few will reflect on the birthday of Jesus Christ, the event which should undergird everything we are celebrating.

But I’ve never believed in being a grumbler about Christmas. I enjoy Christmas though I admit that I don’t get close to crazy excited like I did when I was young. I’d wish more people thought about its origins, but even if they don’t it is still a wonderful season, including special time with family and giving and receiving presents.

For this last blog post before Christmas I’ve assembled a miscellany of things about Christmas. Some are serious, some less important. But I hope they’re all interesting. Enjoy reading.

Church or pub on Christmas Day

In the UK, only about 5 per cent of the population attend church regularly. That number may not be exact. Pollsters do not all use the same methods, and definitions of ‘regular church attendance’ aren’t all identical. Nevertheless, I suspect the 5 per cent figure is close to being right. My home nation is predominantly non-churched. Except, that is, at Christmas.

It’s not unusual to see full churches for Christmas Eve midnight services. I used to lead and preach at services like that. They could be eventful if some of those weaving their way home after an evening in the pub decided to join the service. All were welcome but not all were at peace with the world or church decorum.

Fewer attend church on Christmas Day. Other things capture attention, not least keeping children calm while they rip the paper wrappings off presents. Then there’s the massive task of preparing and serving a big meal for family and friends. Turkey is the traditional dish in the UK for a Christmas Day meal.

But ‘Statista’ asked people whether they plan to attend church on Christmas Day or spend their time and money in the pub. The answers they got surprised me. Take a look at the chart comparing church or pub attendance for the USA, UK and Germany.

Clearly the USA has the highest percentage of people who will attend church on Christmas Day – 19 per cent. To my surprise the UK trails by only 3 points at 16 per cent, but Germany scores only 12 per cent. However, what all three nations have in common is that church wins over pub. I don’t know why that happens. My guess is that, for some, there may be a long-observed family tradition of going to church on Christmas Day. Others may pass through church doors for a service of lessons and carols but that will be their one-time attendance until next Christmas. However, of course, most Christmas Day churchgoers are people with a real faith in Jesus. They make a priority of attending church to worship before other events overtake their day.  

The odd ancestry of Jesus

Some families have an unkempt uncle, an agonising aunt, or a grouchy grandparent, but Jesus had some really strange ancestors. Certainly Matthew, the writer of the first gospel in the New Testament, did not sanitise his list of Jesus’ forebears.

A few years ago I wrote two blog posts about those ancestors of Jesus. If you haven’t read those posts, I’d encourage you to do so now. I promise they’re interesting, challenging and encouraging. Here are the links:

Why is Christmas on December 25?

Why the 25th of December? Well, the first thing to say is that it’s unlikely that Jesus was born in late December. Scholars point out that shepherds wouldn’t have their flocks out in fields in mid-winter. It would also be a strange season  to travel with your heavily pregnant wife back to your hometown to be counted in a census (see the opening verses of Luke’s gospel, chapter 2, for mention of that census). For various reasons biblical scholars mostly consider that sometime between spring and summer is more likely for the time of Jesus’ birth.

What is also interesting is that the date of Jesus’ birth was not celebrated or even considered by the early Christians. Matthew’s and Luke’s gospels carry the story of his birth, but there’s no mention of a date. In fact the date of the Saviour’s birth was never discussed by the church until at least the 2nd century.

Two or three theories are put forward now for why December 25 was later made Jesus’ birthday.

A Roman and Christian historian called Sextus Julius Africanus dated a lot of things. (He was born around 180 and died around 250 AD.) For example, he calculated that creation was complete on March 25, 5499 BC. Sextus stuck with March 25 as the exact date when Jesus was conceived in Mary’s womb. That day had already been considered as the date of Jesus’ crucifixion, and perhaps Sextus thought it appropriate to date Jesus’ conception and death on exactly the same date (not in the same year, of course!). How does that affect the date of Christmas? Think: if Jesus was conceived on March 25, nine months later is December 25. Simple really. Well, it was for Sextus, so for him December 25 was the date Jesus was born.

But there could also be another reason for the date. In 274 AD, the Roman emperor Aurelian marked the rebirth of the Unconquered Sun (Sol Invictus) on December 25. Why then? The 25th was just after the winter solstice, and therefore the beginning of days that would gradually get longer. For Emperor Aurelian, December 25 was when the sun had been reborn so there should be a celebration. Move forward to the next century when Emperor Constantine ruled. He was a convert to Christianity who had made his faith the religion of the empire. In 336, and perhaps because he wanted to wean his empire away from pagan gods, he overlaid the Sol Invictus festival on December 25 by marking that date as the birth of Jesus. Thus December 25 became established in the western Roman empire as what we now call Christmas. January 6 was favoured in the east, and the modern Armenian church continues to mark the January date.

There is a popular, broader idea that the date of Christmas was fixed to replace a variety of pagan feasts held in mid winter. That suggestion was never made until the 12th century, and today’s scholars point out that the early Christians didn’t have any interest in borrowing dates from pagan religions. If anything, they distanced themselves from other faiths.

What we shouldn’t confuse here are two very different things. One is the idea of borrowing the date of Jesus’ birth from pagan religions. The other is adopting traditions for Christmas from those religions. The obvious example of the latter is the use of the Christmas tree, which does seem to have originated in the worship of the Druids. They were Celtic priests who decorated their temples with evergreens as a symbol of everlasting life.[1]

No-one can say with certainty why December 25 became the date for Jesus’ birth. Perhaps thinking of March 25 as Jesus’ conception in Mary’s womb, on the same date as his death during Passover, is what led people to the nine months later date for his birth, but there is no complete evidence to support any theory. Since Victorian times we’ve been bombarded at Christmas with wintry images of reindeer, snow flakes, snow covered trees, and children building snowmen. Then, from 1941, we’ve crooned along with Bing Crosby singing ‘I’m dreaming of a white Christmas’. Who would want to surrender all that for another date? I’d consider it. Australians don’t seem too sad about celebrating Christmas on the beach. I could get used to that too.

For more on the date of Christmas, you’ll find a well-written scholarly article – easily understood by non-scholars – here: https://www.biblicalarchaeology.org/daily/people-cultures-in-the-bible/jesus-historical-jesus/how-december-25-became-christmas/

Victoria, Albert and Christmas trees

Evergreen trees have always been popular because, well, they’re evergreen. Deciduous trees, like oak, chestnut and beech, flourish and then for half the year seem to lose their life. Evergreens are fully alive all the time.

So from the most ancient of times – long before Christianity – people collected evergreen branches to hang over doors and windows. In some cultures those evergreens were thought to shut out demons and other evil spirits, and even illness. During a long, hard winter the green branches were also a reminder that spring would come and plants and crops would grow again.

But how did that become the Christmas tree tradition?

There’s no single answer to that question, but there’s evidence that by the 16th century Christians in Germany were bringing evergreen trees into their homes and decorating them. There’s a story – possibly true – that the famous church reformer, Martin Luther, walked home on a dark but clear winter night feeling awestruck by the bright stars overhead. So he erected a tree in his home, and fastened lighted candles to its branches to recapture something of the magnificence he had seen outside.  

That German tradition slowly spread across Europe. But its popularity soared in the mid 1800s when Queen Victoria’s German husband, Albert, had trees erected in Windsor Castle and, in 1848, allowed a front cover painting to appear in The Illustrated London News showing the main tree covered in decorations and surrounded by the Royal Family. Other papers picked up on the story, and it massively influenced upper class customs in Britain and many other countries. Royal fever did its work.

Image in public domain

During the following decades and into the 20th century, the tradition of the Christmas tree spread quickly and widely. Across the western world almost all homes had Christmas trees. Local authorities mounted Christmas trees in public squares and on their buildings. Large stores placed trees on their balconies and in the main retail areas. Towns and cities publicised ceremonies of switching on the lights on large Christmas trees in prominent places. For example, since 1933 and continuing now, a large Norway spruce tree has been used for the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree in New York. The 2024 tree is 74ft (22.5m) tall, 43 ft (13.1m) wide, and weighs about 11 tons (24,250 pounds, 11000kg). After the Christmas period, the tree will be donated to Habitat for Humanity and cut into lengths to help with building homes. In Washington DC the National Christmas Tree is erected near the White House, and its lights switched on by the President and First Lady. Trafalgar Square in London has had a Christmas tree donated by Oslo, Norway, every year since 1947. The 2024 tree is 20 metres (65.6ft) tall and has already been scaled by a protestor dressed as Santa Claus.

For a long time now Alison and I have had only artificial Christmas trees in our home, principally for three reasons: that means a real tree is still growing in the forest; artificial trees leave no mess; they can be used for many years. We follow a common tradition of laying presents around the base of the Christmas tree. When our children were young, those presents sparked curiosity which led to exploration. The children would secretly examine the size and weight of each neatly wrapped present, probably hoping the biggest and heaviest was for them. One thing we never have done or will do is sing around the Christmas tree. The TV series Downton Abbey portrays how the aristocratic family would sing along with their servants beside a giant Christmas tree. We have never done that. Maybe it’s because we don’t have servants. Or because we’re not very tuneful.

‘Once in Royal David’s City’

Every Christmas Eve millions in the UK and around the world tune in to a service of carols broadcast from King’s College, Cambridge. The first TV broadcast was in 1954, and then the service televised regularly from 1963. For over 100 years one tradition at the start of that service has not changed. Since 1919 the opening carol has been Once in Royal David’s City, with the first verse sung unaccompanied by a boy soprano. For that soprano, the thought of your solo being heard around the world must be terrifying. What must make it worse is that no-one knows who will be the soloist until the choirmaster selects one of the sopranos just as the service begins. A nod or pointed finger in your direction, and seconds later your voice penetrates the silence. And millions are listening.

The writer of ‘Once in Royal David’s City’ was born Cecil Frances Humphries in 1818 in County Wicklow, Ireland. ‘Royal David’s City’ wasn’t her only famous hymn  – I’ll mention two more shortly. They may surprise you. Keep reading…

Cecil began writing poems in her school journal from an early age. They were beautifully composed in style and content, and that led to the publication of her first book of poetry called Verses for Seasons, a kind of ‘Christian Year’ of readings for children. That was only the beginning. Overall she wrote more than 400 hymns, basing them on subjects like the Apostles’ Creed, baptism, prayer, the Lord’s Supper and the Ten Commandments. All of them were written in simple language so children could understand and enjoy them.

When Cecil was 30, her book Hymns for Little Children was published. Each hymn was written to bring out the truth of some Christian teaching. Of course, without music the hymns read like poetry. But one year after publication a gifted English organist, Henry John Gauntlett, read Hymns for Little Children, and so loved ‘Once in Royal David’s City’ he composed music for it. As a hymn it was immensely popular and before long it was being sung far and wide.

Its origins as a children’s hymn show by the many direct lessons or references to children in the carol. For example, Cecil writes:

  • Christian children all must be / Mild, obedient, good as He.
  • For he is our childhood’s pattern; / Day by day, like us He grew;
  • And He leads His children on / To the place where He is gone.
  • Where like stars His children crowned / All in white shall wait around.

Cecil tells the story of Jesus in the carol, but also applies lessons and truths of the Christian faith for the children who would read or sing it. And that, after all, was her purpose. Hymns for Little Children carries a dedication by Cecil to her godsons, in which she hopes that the language of verse which children love “may help to impress on their minds what they are, what I have promised for them, and what they must seek to be”.

Two years later, in 1850, Cecil married Rev William Alexander (hence her hymns carry the name Cecil Frances Alexander). He eventually became the Anglican Primate of Ireland, a very senior role. Cecil poured her energies into writing hymns but also care for the very poor. The disastrous Irish potato famine – known as the Great Famine or Great Hunger – lasted from 1845-1852.[2] The parishes of Ireland were filled with masses of the disadvantaged. Cecil poured her heart and hands into care for them. Often she’d travel miles in difficult conditions to bring comfort to the sick and poor, and to give them food, medical supplies and warm clothes. Along with  her sister, she also founded a school for the deaf.

Cecil wrote many hymns before she died in 1895. One of those was the classic Easter hymn ‘There is a green hill far away’. Another was the hymn loved by children and adults ‘All things bright and beautiful’. Many have regarded Cecil Frances Alexander as one of the greatest hymn writers in the English language.

Eating mince pies at Christmas

There is every good reason to eat mince pies, but no special reason to eat them only at Christmas. They are just as enjoyable at any time of year.

Plate of freshly baked festive Christmas mince pies with decorated golden crusts and spicy fruit filling served sprinkled with sugar, one broken open to reveal the filling. By christmasstockimages.com – http://christmasstockimages.com/free/food-dining/slides/mince_pie_plate.htm, CC BY 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=97503821

Mince pies date from medieval times but back then they were shaped like a rectangular manger, with a pastry baby Jesus on top. I’d find it hard to bite into that. The round shape of mince pies came only after the Reformation in the 1500s.

People of old linked the ingredients of mince pies with the Christmas story:

  • meat (mostly lamb or mutton) represented the shepherds
  • dried fruit (raisins, prunes and figs), along with spices (cinnamon, cloves and nutmeg), all expensive items, symbolised the wise men’s gifts
  • the mince pies had 13 ingredients in total, equating to Jesus and his 12 disciples.

Eating a mince pie every day of the 12 days of Christmas was thought to bring happiness for the following 12 months.

Around the time of the Reformation, Puritans tried to ban everything associated with Catholicism. That included mince pies. The pies soon made a comeback.

We can all be glad that ban did not last. The popularity of mince pies today is immense. In the UK about 800 million are sold in the run up to Christmas. Add to that the very many which are made in the home. Assuming they’re all eaten, that’s a lot of mince pies and a lot of calories. Some eat none of course – they’re not food for babies, nor does my 102-year-old mother-in-law eat them now. And there are some strange people who don’t like mince pies. A reasonable guess, then, is that those who like mince pies consume an average of between 15 and 19 pies per person at Christmas. Personally I’m a fan of home made pies served warm, and I’m not admitting how many I eat each year.

Finally…

I can’t finish without saying that, for me, Christmas isn’t about carols, mince pies, or presents around a Christmas tree. It is about Jesus, God’s Son, entering this world. No other birth changed the world like his.

My hope and prayer every Christmas is that people will think carefully about the one whose birth began it all (whatever the precise date). I wish you the happiest of Christmases and a new year ahead with many reasons to be thankful.


[1] https://www.history.com/topics/christmas/history-of-christmas-trees

[2] History.com records the famine’s toll: “Before it ended in 1852, the Potato Famine resulted in the death of roughly one million Irish from starvation and related causes, with at least another million forced to leave their homeland as refugees.” For a fuller description of the famine, see: https://www.history.com/topics/immigration/irish-potato-famine

I wish you a merry Christmas

On the eve of one of the most special days of the year, I wish you and all those you love a very merry Christmas. Not everyone in our multicultural and multifaith faith world celebrates Christmas, and I respect their views while disagreeing with them.

For some, Christmas is happening in the midst of terrible trouble – war, famine, poverty, abuse, homelessness, or other dreadful experiences. It’s worth remembering that the first ever Christmas – the birth of Jesus – happened during a cruel occupancy by an invading force (the Romans) and under tyrannical and savage local rule (by King Herod who massacred all Bethlehem-born male children aged under 2). The angels who announced Jesus’ birth spoke a message of peace, but we are still far from seeing that fulfilled everywhere.

For me, God’s Son entering this world tells me God has not abandoned us. We get so much wrong because of our selfishness, prejudice, and wickedness, and God might have given up on us and all humankind. But God hasn’t done that, and he sent his Son into the world to change lives. Many resist that change, but billions have found forgiveness, hope, freedom and love in knowing God.

To me that’s Christmas with real meaning. It’s serious and wonderful.

But, while listening to music in the build-up to Christmas, their messages are often light-hearted and fanciful. Yes, they give reasons for celebrating Christmas, but those reasons are not what this season is about.

Here’s the kind of thing I mean.

From my youngest I liked the idea that Santa Claus is coming to town. But, wait a minute, apparently Santa has a list, and he’s studying it to see who’s been naughty or nice, bad or good. On that basis, I don’t think I’d ever have had presents. And the idea that you only get something if you’re ‘good enough’ is not a healthy message.

Of course the theme of children and presents comes through a lot. I wish it could be Christmas every day paints a rosy picture of Christmas – the kids starts singing, bands are playing, bells are ringing. And how do we know It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas? We know because there are toys in every store. If you are Barney you’re hoping for ‘hopalong’ boots, and if you’re Ben you want a pistol that shoots. Really? A pistol? Not the ideal present, IMHO.

But, no scary thoughts allowed. Christmas – just because of the season it is – must surely mean joy, joy, joy. Merry Christmas Everybody says everyone is having fun, and Merry little Christmas tells me my heart can be light, and all my troubles out of sight. Nice thoughts. If only they were true. But I’ve met too many people who found Christmas stressful (too much work and getting into debt), or sad (as they remember those no longer with them), or lonely (after I sent an elderly person a Christmas card, I got a thank you letter from her because my card was the only one she had received).

Surely, though, Christmas is the season for romance? Countless films suggest romance blooms at Christmas. The standard story-line is that lonely single woman meets handsome widower, and after some to-ing and fro-ing of feelings, they kiss and embark on an always happy future together. And, if that’s not quite working, then you can ask Santa to put Mr Right on the doorstep – or so All I want for Christmas says. But, Last Christmas warns us to be careful who we give our hearts to. Heart given on Christmas Day; heart taken away the very next day. So, this year, it’ll be given only to someone special. That’s certainly a good idea, but I’m not sure why it would be true only at Christmas.

I apologise if these last paragraphs sound mean. Actually, I quite enjoy most of these songs. My complaint is only when they suggest fun, presents, tradition, Christmas trees, Santa, parties, romance is what Christmas is all about.

For me, there’s so much more. One Christmas, many years ago, I knelt down and prayed words like these: Dear Lord, Christmas is your birthday. I can’t give you any ordinary present. But I am giving you my life for whatever you want to do with me.

That wasn’t the only time I’d offered my life to God, but that Christmas prayer was special. It was answered by new direction, new wisdom, new strength to do what I believed right with the gifts God had given me.

I can’t tell anyone what to pray, but if you know there’s something you should ‘give’ to God this Christmas, that would be wonderful.

May you be greatly blessed at Christmas and throughout the new year.

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An apology: I’m very aware that my posting to Occasionally Wise has been irregular recently. The major reason is that from October I began a new course of full-time university study. So far it’s been both demanding and good. Posts will continue to appear, but I cannot promise what the frequency will be. Please be patient – thank you.

The Coronation of King Charles III

On May 6th, 2023, Charles III was crowned king. He was already king, of course, because that title passed to him immediately upon the death of his mother, Elizabeth II, on September 8th, 2022, at 3.10 pm. Charles’ coronation today recognised his kingship, and included pledges by king and people of loyalty and service to each other.

I’m not an ardent royalist like some are, but also far from being anti-monarchy. There are parts of a nation’s history that should not easily be discarded, and hard-working and wise ‘royals’ can do much for the United Kingdom, its commonwealth countries and other ‘realms’.

So I settled down to watch the coronation service and its associated events. I knew I was in for a marathon – and it was that – but I could relax which is more than what was possible for the thousands of military and police on parade and guard duty, and those who had an active part inside Westminster Abbey. They’ll all sleep soundly tonight.

I will share a few personal thoughts on the day’s events. But – since this is written on the same day – they should be seen as immediate reactions rather than deeply considered reflections.

Here’s what stood out for me.

Superb organisation  It’s hard to grasp how anyone can bring together the complex content and timing that makes a coronation day work. And all today’s events were marvellously efficient. What undoubtedly helped is the little-known fact that ever since Elizabeth II became queen officials of the government, Church of England, and royal staff held meetings at least annually to plan Charles’ coronation. Now that’s being prepared.

But I’m not surprised. Decades ago – as a young journalist in Edinburgh – I saw advance press releases outlining visits by royalty. The itinerary was timed to the minute. Indeed, my newspaper had an early edition sold on the streets as soon as one royal event was over. The story detailed where the Queen had been, who she’d met, what she’d seen. How did they have it written so soon? They didn’t. It was written before the event, entirely from the detailed schedule issued in advance. Royal events – great and small – are planned to the smallest detail.

But today’s coronation was one of the greatest of events, and I applaud those who brought together people from all round the world, thousands of military personnel, many clergy and politicians, London’s city officials, broadcasters, and many more. Quite a feat.

Remarkable endurance  I was impressed that several people involved in the service could retain their posture for long periods of time. In many cases, they stayed still while holding ceremonial items. Charles himself had to stay balanced with a crown resting precariously on his head while sitting on an uncomfortable ancient Coronation Chair, holding an orb in one hand and a sceptre in the other. Queen Camilla was put through similar torture. Both did well. And so did others who kept their concentration, passed the correct items of regalia exactly at the right time, moved to new locations when needed, and so on.

Outside, on the routes between Buckingham Palace and Westminster Abbey, there was constant discipline from police who faced out to the crowd and military who faced in towards the procession. They stood there for hours from long before dignitaries went past.

To add to the discomfort outdoors it rained much of the time. That’s oddly normal for coronation days. It also rained on the previous four occasions, including the coronation of Elizabeth II in June 1953. Yet everything about Charles’ coronation seemed unaffected, except low cloud meant the fly past was scaled back to only helicopters and the Red Arrows performance team. (The plan had been for 14 waves of aircraft, ranging from World War II fighters and bombers to super-modern jets. Some were already flying holding patterns off the east coast when the Ministry of Defence cancelled their participation. Aircraft crashing over London is a risk that could not be taken.)

A very religious service  Coronation services have their origin in ancient times. And coronations at Westminster date back to William the Conqueror on 25th December 1066. For many centuries there was a strong belief in the divine right of kings, the view that kings were appointed by God and could rule absolutely. Though no-one now believes in divine right, the idea that a monarch should be blessed, strengthened and guided by God prevails.

Hence it’s not surprising that today’s coronation was a profoundly religious event, led by the senior clergy of the Church of England. For a long time Charles has recognised that British people are not only Christian; many adhere to other faiths. Thus representatives of other religions had roles too. However, the monarch is formally the supreme governor of the Church of England, so there’s no surprise that denomination’s forms of prayer and worship predominated.

Charles has also said that he intends to defend all faiths – in the sense that no faith should suffer discrimination – and I applaud that. For many of the tough situations he will face, I hope the prayers for Charles will be answered. He will need the wisdom only God can give to navigate the right way.

A considerate event  Two things particularly made me realise those responsible for the coronation had tried to be thoughtful and kind.

First, I was following the official coronation order of service, and right at the end I could read the wording of a greeting other faith leaders would give the king just before he exited the abbey. The TV cameras covered that moment but we didn’t hear a word they said. That seemed a shame to me. Until, later, a commentator explained the silence. The Chief Rabbi observes strict Jewish practices about the sabbath (which is a Saturday). That meant he could not travel by car or train to the service. That could be overcome by staying near the abbey overnight. But sabbath rules would also prohibit him speaking into a microphone. So, to allow the Rabbi to participate alongside other faith leaders, there was no microphone to pick up their voices. That is a remarkable consideration.

Second, thousands of military personnel marched well in advance of the ornate coaches that carried King Charles and Queen Camilla. That meant they never saw the monarch and his wife while on parade. That was tough. The day had begun at 3.30 am for many of them, as they had to travel into London and be in position early on. Then they stood and marched in the rain. Of course that was their duty, pleasant or not, and I’m sure they considered it a privilege to have a part in the day. But never to see their new king and queen? Someone thought that didn’t need to happen, so when they finished their march up The Mall they continued on past the frontage of Buckingham Palace and gathered on the vast lawn behind (where Garden Party events are held[1]). The troops lined up in long rows on the grass, and when the royal couple appeared on the terrace overlooking the grounds, the military removed their headwear and gave the heartiest of ‘hip, hip, hooray’ cheers. That’s something they’ll tell their children and grandchildren. I found it quite moving.

At the age of 74 King Charles today became the oldest person to be crowned monarch in Britain. He was just three years old when his mother became queen, making him the heir for over 70 years. That’s a long time to wait. He’s used a lot of that to campaign on important issues, especially about the environment. As monarch he can no longer speak on any subject considered political, but the king has other opportunities to do good. I believe he’ll make a positive difference, and do that with passion and wisdom.

Lastly, a note, especially for those who think it rains all the time in Britain. It really doesn’t. I enlightened many of my American friends on that subject, but even British commentators seemed to suggest today’s rain in London was typical late spring weather. So why have the coronation in May? But here are two facts:

  1. London’s largest airport, Heathrow, has recorded an average of 45.91mm (1.8 inches) of rain in May between 1991 and 2020. Only four other months are drier.
  2. Heathrow, London, has an average annual rainfall of 614.98 mm (24.2 inches) while Central Park, New York City, has 1267.5 mm (49.9 inches) – more than double London’s total. Even Paris has more rain annually than London – 641 mm (25.2 inches).

So, today wasn’t really a bad choice for Coronation Day. And King Charles – perhaps thinking of the long reign of his mother – described the rain as a ‘blessing’. May there be showers of blessing on his time as king.


[1] Many years ago my wife Alison was invited to attend the Queen’s Garden Party, and I was her ‘plus one’. I know my place.

Great Fire of London 4 Aftermath

Was the death toll from the Great Fire four or four thousand? Did the blaze end the Great Plague? Who or what emerged hairless but alive from the heart of the inferno? How long was it before the bakers of London apologised that one of their own had started the fire? Did someone commit suicide by falsely confessing he set London alight?

Answers to these questions and much more will follow.

There were both serious and less serious consequences from the Great Fire of London. This is the fourth and final part of the story of the 1666 Great Fire, and I’ll explore a variety of outcomes here. Episode 1 of this series describes the beginnings of the Great Fire in a bakehouse in Pudding Lane, and explains why it spread quickly.[1] Episode 2 shows how the fire intensified, with residents fleeing the city and leadership failing.[2] Episode 3 records the fire’s relentless spread; St Paul’s Cathedral is lost but the Tower of London is saved.[3] The footnote links in this paragraph will take you quickly to those earlier episodes.

The Great Fire began in the early hours of Sunday, September 2nd, 1666. Most consider that the destruction was over by the end of Wednesday 5th, four full days later.[4] But, of course, the consequences of the fire lasted far longer than the blaze.

In this final episode, I’ve summarised some of the major effects of the Great Fire under several headings. A few oddities I’ve uncovered along the way are mentioned under ‘Eleven curious details’ near the end.

I’m aware this section is lengthy. I hope you’re willing to read it all, but if time or energy fails you, I’ll admit the parts that most interested me have the headings: ‘Death toll’, ‘The plague’, ‘The lust for vengeance’ and ‘Eleven curious details’. You may especially appreciate those sections too. I’d like to believe you would also find my final summing up under ‘Lessons from the Great Fire’ important.

Extent of damage

All reports of the physical damage done by the Great Fire are not identical. However, the figures below are commonly cited.

Property and land destroyed:

  • Houses: 13,200-13,500, leaving 130,000 people homeless
  • Churches: 87
  • Significant buildings: St Paul’s Cathedral, Baynard’s Castle, The Royal Exchange, the Custom House, Bridewell Palace, The Guildhall, 52 livery company halls and three city gates.
  • Acreage: approximately 436 acres, equal to more than four fifths of London. Some quote the figure as 86% of the city.
  • Total financial loss of the damage was approximately £10 million (equivalent to £1.79 billion in 2021). To put the £10 million in perspective, the annual income of the city was only £12,000.

The map shows the final spread of the Great Fire across London. The area surrounded by a bold black line is the city surrounded by the ancient Roman-built walls. The locations of the various gates are marked. The fire originated in Pudding Lane indicated by a green line. The fire mostly drifted westward, driven by the wind, and spread to areas outside the walls. But – inside those walls – the greatest part of London was destroyed.

People:

Bald statistics do not, of course, tell the human story. In addition to loss of life (to which we’ll come next), the loss of homes was devastating. The majority of those forced to camp outside the city walls in fields, or living in primitive shelters among the ruins inside the city, really were homeless. They had no immediate means of rescuing their situation. There was virtually no such thing as house insurance. Besides, the large majority were renters. They didn’t know if their landlords had the finances to rebuild homes, if they’d wish to rebuild homes, and, even if they did, whether those homes would be leased to them. Meanwhile the refugees’ employment was largely gone. Some would be engaged in rebuilding projects, but for the foreseeable future the ordinary factory worker or tradesperson had lost their livelihood. Tens of thousands, then, were now utterly insecure with no idea how they’d survive.

Death toll

There are very varying ideas of how many died in the Great Fire. Numbers extend from a handful to a large multitude.

Official accounts written soon after the fire put the death toll in single figures. Some say four, others six or perhaps eight. And there are modern writers who would argue that people had time to escape so these numbers may well be accurate.

However, there are several reasons to be cautious about a very modest death toll:

  1. We should ask, ‘Were there reasons to understate the death toll?’ For example, perhaps the largely absent Lord Mayor Bloodworth[5] wished to play down the consequences of his failure of leadership. Other civic leaders – thinking of future investment in England’s foremost city – may have wanted to minimise the devastating consequences of the fire.
  2. The late 1660s was an age without anything like modern forensic science. No-one picked their way carefully through the ruins of thousands of fire-ravaged homes for skeletal remains. Perhaps, in any case, there would be virtually no remains. Those who choked and collapsed because of smoke or intense heat may well have been cremated by the intensity of the flames which swept through their property.
  3. Attributing deaths to any disaster is not simple. Issues of how, where and when someone died arise. To illustrate, think about a large battle during a war. When a death toll is stated, are we being told the number who died during the battle? Or does the death toll include those who were wounded, lived for several days or even a few months and then died of wounds sustained during the battle? Then what about those so severely scarred mentally by what they went through they later took their own lives? Defining one number for casualties is complicated. So it is with the death toll of the Great Fire. Are very low numbers of deaths referring only to those who died in the flames? If so, is it not better, for example, to include the large number who perished later because they were still camped outside the city walls when winter fell? Those poor people didn’t die in the fire, but they did die because of the fire.

So, how many deaths can really be attributed to the Great Fire?

Some modern historians still support a death toll in single figures, albeit accepting that some deaths would have been unrecorded, and that refugees also died later camped in fields. Another historian supports a number greater than the lowest figures but thinks it likely the total would not run into the hundreds. Neil Hanson draws attention to known deaths because of hunger and exposure during the cold winter after the fire. He also believes that while some foreigners and Catholics were rescued from mob-lynching, many violent deaths went unrecorded. Hanson also supports the theory that the heat at the heart of the firestorms was much more intense than an ordinary house fire, and thus able to near fully consume bodies. He believes that instead of four, six or eight the death toll was “several hundred and quite possibly several thousand times that number”.[6]

The writers of the Short History of the Great Fire of London podcast researched parish records for deaths before the fire, for the year of the fire, and then for a short time after the fire. They find anomalies in those figures, perhaps suggesting that the recording of deaths was unreliable. What I find even more enlightening is a comparison they make with deaths linked to the Great Fire of Chicago. The Chicago fire was not until 1871, but there are similarities with London’s 1666 fire – population size, density of wooden buildings, time of year, and presence of a strong wind. Deaths were more properly recorded in the late 1800s, and between 200 and 300 are attributed to the Chicago fire. Thus, the writers conclude, the London fire likely also resulted in several hundred deaths but probably not thousands.[7]

Given all the limitations of a major disaster in the 17th century, we will never know an exact number of deaths because of the Great Fire of London. My own view is that the low numbers are unlikely, but so are the extremely high guesses.

Planning a new London

Before the fire, the writer John Evelyn compared London to the grandeur of Paris and described Britain’s largest city as a “wooden, northern, and inartificial congestion of houses”. That’s a confusing mix of words, but he’s trying to describe how poorly designed and built London was. For Evelyn, the city was an unorganised sprawl of unattractive streets and homes.

Within days of the Great Fire ending, many – including King Charles II – determined the rebuilt London would be much better. The city would be redesigned, and homes built to a much higher standard.

Work began almost immediately to clear massive heaps of debris, almost all of it unusable. A special Fire Court[8] was set up to decide property disputes. Many of those were arguments between tenants and landlords about who should pay for rebuilding. Cases were decided quickly with verdicts based on ability to pay. Without the Fire Court legal issues could have lasted years and seriously delayed rebuilding.

Right from the start drawings of a new London flooded in. Many of the submissions were sent direct to the King. Some came from ordinary citizens with radical ideas, and some came from people with planning experience, including Christopher Wren. Most proposals involved a grid system of streets, a significantly different pattern to how London had evolved. There were also plans for boulevards and piazzas similar to those in French and Italian cities. Along with the drawings came bold and romantic statements of rebirth, that a marvellous new London would emerge from the ashes.

But almost none of that ever happened.

Wren’s plan, for example, failed because a very large number of property titles would have had to be redefined, an almost impossible task because land in London was owned by many people. Besides, no-one was willing to wait for complex plans to be assessed. With little building control, work had already started on building new homes on the scorched earth. People needed houses simply to survive. So London was rebuilt much as before.

However, some new regulations were imposed.

One of the reasons the fire had spread so easily and quickly was the density of the housing. There were almost no gaps between houses. Streets were very narrow, and roofs overhung so far they virtually joined with adjoining homes, even those on the opposite side of the road. Another reason the fire took such a strong hold was that most houses were made of wood which, when dry, was perfect fuel for the fire. So, the new construction regulations required all buildings to have at least a stone or brick facing. Streets must be widened and new pavements[9] built. Two new streets were created. No houses must obstruct access to the River Thames, and better wharves must be built there. The cost of building materials was regulated, as were the wages of workers. A deadline of three years for rebuilding was set; if not met, land could be sold. In the end most private rebuilding was done by 1671.

Supervision of much of the reconstruction was entrusted to a six-person committee, with Christopher Wren as the ‘Commissioner for Rebuilding’. Wren was born in October 1632, therefore still just 33 at the time of the Great Fire. Though his general plans for a new London were mostly rejected, he did design 51 new city churches and The Monument (more on which shortly). His most famous achievement was designing and overseeing the rebuilding of St Paul’s Cathedral. The excellence of Wren’s work was recognised with a knighthood on 14th November, 1673 (hence he had the title ‘Sir’ after that date).

Overall it took almost 50 years before the fire-ravaged area of London was rebuilt. It was 1711 until the reconstruction of St Paul’s was complete.

The Monument

Because the Great Fire of London was so momentous, a decision was made by the King to build a commemorative monument close to where the fire started. Some attribute the design work of a monument to Christopher Wren, others to surveyor Robert Hooke – very likely they combined their skills. Work began on a Doric column in 1671 and it was completed in 1677. Known simply as The Monument, it stands 202 feet tall (61.5 metres) and is located exactly 202 feet from where the fire began in the Pudding Lane bakery. At the very top is a drum and copper urn from which flames emerged, symbolizing the Great Fire.[10]

On the column were sculptures and engravings telling the story of the fire. In 1681 a plaque was added attributing blame for the fire. An official enquiry determined the Great Fire  was due to “the hand of God, a great wind, and a very dry season”, but, with anti-Catholic feeling running high, the inscription on The Monument put the blame on the ”treachery and malice of the Popish faction”. The inscription was removed in 1830.

Fire Insurance and Fire Brigade

The Great Fire made people think more seriously about better fire safety and the cost of repairs. In 1680 Nicholas Barbon set up the ‘Fire Office’, an insurance company.[11] Other similar companies were soon established.

By 1700, those fledgling companies had the common sense to realise it was probably cheaper to extinguish fires than pay for repairs. They set up their own fire brigades, and had plates fastened to houses naming which company insured that property. If a fire brigade of another company put out the fire, the insurers had reciprocal arrangements so the correct insurer would cover the cost.

Eventually even more common sense prevailed. The most efficient fire-fighting system would be one unified force covering the whole of London. So, in 1833 the London Fire Engine Establishment was founded. There were numerous fire stations across the city, each providing 24/7 coverage. Floating engines were built for The Thames to tackle fires in the docks.

Now known as The London Fire Brigade, it has become one of the largest firefighting and rescue organisations in the world. It employs more than 5000 people, and in 2022 dealt with 125,390 incidents, of which 19,297 were fires.

The plague

The Great Plague (or Black Plague) began to spread in early 1665. It was deadly, and the number of victims rose quickly. In London about 15 per cent of the population died in the plague’s first year. That could be as many as 75,000 deaths, a huge number.

There were plague victims also in 1666, then in September the city was consumed by the Great Fire. And afterwards the Great Plague faded away. Why? The obvious conclusion is that the insanitary houses – overrun with rats and fleas which spread the plague – were gone, so the epidemic was halted. The tragedy of the Great Fire eradicated the tragedy of the Great Plague.

Except it didn’t. Sometimes an obvious conclusion is a wrong conclusion.

The Museum of London says that the idea that the Great Fire stopped the Great Plague is the most talked about myth they hear.[12] It’s nice to think there was a silver lining to the Great Fire. But the idea isn’t true. The Museum lists five reasons:

  1. The Great Fire burned only about a quarter of the overall London metropolis. It could not have killed off the plague for the whole ‘Greater London’ area.
  2. Houses built after the fire had stone or brick-faced walls, but hygiene and sanitation did not significantly improve.
  3. Areas where the plague was worst – Whitechapel, Clerkenwell, Southwark – were not affected by the fire.
  4. The number of plague-related deaths was already declining long before the fire.
  5. People in London still died from the plague after the Great Fire was over.

 The Great Plague’s major death toll occurred during 1665-66, and the Great Fire broke out in September 1666. So it’s not surprising that the second is assumed to have eradicated the first. But that is a wrong assumption. The Museum says: “We are still not sure why the plague did not return to our shores after it faded out in the 1670s but it wasn’t due to London’s 1666 fire”.

The lust for vengeance

During the Great Fire, anger became rage and rage became a lust for vengeance. In the minds of many, the destruction of London could not be an accident. Farriner protested long and hard that the fire did not start in his bakery. He had double checked his ovens before he went to bed. Many were willing to believe him. A fire like this had to be a deliberate attack. A Parliamentary investigation blamed the fire on the hand of God, the strong wind, and the dry season, but those reasons were not enough. Enemies of London and of England were surely responsible. Blame was directed at Catholics and foreigners.

The anger was fed by homelessness and near starvation. Camped outside London while autumn temperatures dropped, people were dying. Evelyn wrote: “Many (were) without a rag or any necessary utensils, bed or board… reduced to extremest misery and poverty”. The King, Charles II, was so afraid these refugees would rise against the monarchy, he ordered daily supplies of bread to be brought to the city and new markets created.

Charles went even further, encouraging people to move away from London and ordering neighbouring towns and cities to permit incomers to engage in their trades in these new locations.

These were good measures, but still thousands suffered. The mood was volatile. For those living in and around London there was an overwhelming longing to hit back at those responsible for their misery. Before the fire had even been fully extinguished, a rumour spread that French and Dutch troops were approaching. Londoners would not wait to be slaughtered, so mobs rushed through the streets attacking foreigners. Soldiers had to intervene to stop the violence.

In the months following, the lust for vengeance was undiminished. It was inexcusable to attack people simply because they were foreigners, but Londoners were traumatised and panicked. As still happens today, the general population didn’t entirely trust official statements from central authority, in their case from the King. And – with no press or TV or internet – they were fed a strong diet of rumours. And since the only rumours worth spreading are those which are frightening or threatening, people became terrified and angry.

As well as rumours there was (what we now call) ‘fake news’. The official parliamentary enquiry into the fire[13] heard evidence from many people, including those who suspected the Dutch or French or Catholics. The committee recorded everything that was said, but rejected the suspicions of arson and ruled that the fire was an accident made worse by the strong wind and dry season. But someone collated the testimonies of those who blamed foreigners, made those statements into a pamphlet, and leaked it to the public. By now it was obvious there was no Dutch or French invasion, so the story spread that shadowy Catholic agents had started the fire.[14]

In fact, a man who swore he was Catholic had already been arrested, tried and executed. His name was Robert Hubert.

Hubert was a watchmaker who originated from Rouen in France. He had come to London, but, as he headed later for east coast ports, he was stopped just outside the city. Authorities questioned him. Hubert admitted he was a member of a gang, that the fire was a French plot, and he had started the fire. He was charged, and imprisoned in one of the unburned jails.

There are several reports that Hubert was not fully able to explain himself. Some have said he was simple-minded, and may not have realised the implications of his confession, or had imagined the story he told. It’s also possible he was tortured.

Hubert’s story was inconsistent. Originally he said the French gang was 24, but then he dropped the number to just four. He stated that he started the fire in Westminster, but then learned no fire had ever reached there. Where the fire actually began was mentioned to him, so his story changed to how he had thrown a fire grenade through an open window of the Pudding Lane bakery.

He was brought to trial in October 1666 at the Old Bailey courts. There were doubts about his evidence. Some said he had not even been in London when the fire started. He insisted he was a Catholic, but those who knew him said he was Protestant and a Hugeunot.[15] His story of throwing a grenade through a window was nonsense, because the bakery in Pudding Lane had no windows. Besides, Hubert was crippled and incapable of throwing a grenade. The Lord Chief Justice, who presided over the trial, said Hubert’s confession was so disjointed he couldn’t possibly believe him guilty. But Hubert insisted he was guilty. McRobbie says that put officials in the strange position of trying to prove he hadn’t done what he said he did. But Hubert was adamant that he had started the fire, so was found guilty and hanged at Tyburn on 29th October, 1666.

Hubert was innocent. Evidence soon emerged from the captain of a Swedish ship that he had been on that ship in the North Sea when the Great Fire started. He did not arrive in London until two days after that. He was not a Catholic, not a member of a French gang, and certainly had not started the fire.

Perhaps the strength of his confession meant a guilty verdict had to be given. Perhaps people thought that convicting Hubert would end the rage of the crowds. Perhaps Hubert wanted to die. Apparently his life had been miserable, and he wanted to end it. In that case, to use a phrase of McRobbie’s, Hubert committed ‘suicide by confession’.

Anti-Catholic sentiment and suspicion of foreigners continued for many years. Negative feelings do not change quickly, as many today would still testify.

Eleven curious details

One  In 1681 a plaque was placed in Pudding Lane blaming ‘Papists’ for the Great Fire. In the mid-1700s it was removed. Why? Had people realised Catholics were not to blame? No. It was taken down because people stopped to read the wording and that caused a traffic hazard.

Two  The Monument was designed with a 311 step internal staircase leading to a viewing platform, so Londoners could see their city being rebuilt. A mesh cage was added to the viewing platform in the mid-19th century because people had committed suicide by jumping. Some 100,000 people each year continue to climb to the viewing platform.

Three  In 1986 – 320 years after the Great Fire – the London members of the Worshipful Company of Bakers apologised to the Lord Mayor for the fire. They placed a plaque in Pudding Lane acknowledging that one of their own, Thomas Farriner, was in fact guilty for causing the Great Fire.

Four  Sir Christopher Wren’s range of professional interests included astronomy, optics, cosmology, mechanics, microscopy, surveying, medicine, meteorology. He was also an inventor of scientific instruments.

Five  Wren began studying architecture in Paris in 1665. By the next year he was back in London, where he drew his first design to improve the rapidly decaying (Old) St Paul’s Cathedral. One week later the Great Fire began in Pudding Lane on Sunday 2nd September. On the evening of Tuesday 4th September embers landed on St Paul’s and before morning the building was gone. Wren’s masterpiece, the new St Paul’s Cathedral, was completed in 1710.

Six  Sir Christopher married twice. Though neither wife lived long there were two children from each marriage. Wren died aged 90 years, and of these years was married for only nine.[16]

Seven  Though Wren’s designs for a new-look London were never implemented, he was honoured in 2016 (the 350th anniversary of the Great Fire) with a Royal Mail stamp illustrating him presenting his plan.

Eight  A central shaft in The Monument was created as a scientific instrument for the Royal Society. It included a telescope and a space to enable experiments on gravity. However, the vibrations of nearby heavy traffic spoiled those experiments which were soon discontinued.

Nine  On Wednesday 5th September, 1666 – the fourth day of the Great Fire – the diarist Samuel Pepys witnessed a cat being rescued from the ruins of the fire ravaged Royal Exchange. He wrote: ‘I also did see a poor cat taken out of a hole in the chimney… with the hair all burned off the body, and yet alive’.[17]

Ten  St Paul’s Cathedral famously survived the ‘Second Great Fire of London’, the World War II London blitz with incendiary bombs.

Eleven  John Evelyn summed up what the Great Fire had done to his city in six words: ‘London was, but is no more’.

Lessons from the Great Fire

There have been many lessons as the story has unfolded:

  • Something small, such as one spark, can have massive consequences
  • The unimaginable should have been imagined, and preparations made
  • Clear and decisive leadership is vital to deal with a catastrophe
  • How ready people are to find someone to blame, and take the law into their own hands. The sad truth is that people want villains and want vengeance.
  • Sometimes you can’t wait for permission; you must act now. That’s what happened when the garrison at the Tower of London used gunpowder to demolish houses between the fire and the Tower. They’d waited for help which never came. So, before it was too late they took responsibility for halting the flames, and thus saved the Tower.
  • Nowhere is immune from harm. Many thought the stone-built St Paul’s Cathedral was safe so they put all their possessions inside. That was a bad decision. The Great Fire was greater than the resistance of the cathedral, and the building and everything inside was lost.
  • Often you can’t control an outcome. The best firefighting efforts did not stop the Great Fire. What halted its spread was that the easterly wind subsided. The flames were no longer driven westward, thus providing an opportunity to extinguish fires.

Here’s my final lesson. I began this series by saying one spark from a fire left smouldering under an oven caused the Great Fire. Just one spark cost vast amounts of property to be destroyed, many lives lost, and a huge financial cost to rebuilt London.

We neglect the small or ordinary things of life at great peril. Those seemingly small things can be personal, like time with family or looking after our health. They can be the background factors when running a business, like getting to know colleagues or being careful about contracts. They can be the affairs of state or global relationships, such as misunderstanding or neglecting an issue, or threat, or contrary voice.

There’s a saying that large doors swing on small hinges. Extremely large consequences flow from small, seemingly unimportant matters.

Bad things will always happen. But some can be avoided by careful attention to details, by preparation for worst case scenarios, by wise and decisive leadership, and the other lessons taught to us by the Great Fire.


My major online resources for this series on the Great Fire are listed at the foot of the first episode. See https://occasionallywise.com/2023/01/28/great-fire-of-london-1/



[1] https://occasionallywise.com/2023/01/28/great-fire-of-london-1/

[2] https://occasionallywise.com/2023/02/10/the-fire-that-changed-the-weather/

[3] https://occasionallywise.com/2023/03/18/the-great-fire-defence-and-disaster-but-the-end-is-nigh/

[4] Some record that the remains of some buildings continued to smoulder for several months.

[5] Bloodworth’s failings are detailed in the first episode of this series, https://occasionallywise.com/2023/01/28/great-fire-of-london-1/

[6] Hanson, Neil (2001), The Dreadful Judgement: The True Story of the Great Fire of London. Doubleday.

[7] Details of the Short History of… podcast are given at the end of part 1 of this series.

[8] The Fire Court operated through most of 1667 and 1668, and again between 1670 and 1676.

[9] Pavements = sidewalks in America.

[10] Details from the website of The Monument – https://www.themonument.info/history/introduction.html

[11] These details and others to follow from the Museum of London: https://www.museumoflondon.org.uk/discover/great-fire-london-1666

[12] Details here and following from https://www.museumoflondon.org.uk/discover/three-myths-you-believe-about-great-fire-london

[13] The official investigation began just over three weeks after the Great Fire started.

[14] Information here and following predominantly from Linda McRobbie’s excellent article: https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/great-fire-london-was-blamed-religious-terrorism-180960332/

[15] Hugeunots were certainly Protestant, and many fled France to avoid Catholic persecution.

[16] From: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christopher_Wren

[17] Museum of London: https://www.museumoflondon.org.uk/discover/cats-in-museums-feline-history-london

The Great Fire: defence and disaster, but the end is nigh

The Great Fire of London began in the early hours of a Sunday morning. By Tuesday you’d expect the fire would have been extinguished or simply died down. You’d be wrong.

In fact dawn on Tuesday heralds the day of greatest destruction. The fire spreads faster. More houses than ever are consumed. And buildings burn to the ground which no-one thought could even go on fire.

Why?

Primarily because a major fire in the 17th century was very different from a major fire now.

Our modern assumption is that, with time, a fire will be beaten. We have fire brigades staffed by fully trained firefighters. They have excellent equipment, such as high pressure hoses, extending ladders, protective suits, breathing apparatus, and even drones. And fire hydrants provide near-endless water supplies. Also, many buildings don’t burn easily because they’re constructed with fire-retardant materials, fitted with early warning smoke alarms, and sprinkler systems are installed in their ceilings.

The realities of September 1666 were nothing like those. Citizen firefighters threw buckets of water on fires, and used hooks to tear down walls. At the height of the Great Fire neither of those methods were possible because the heat was so intense no-one could get nearer than 100 yards (91 metres).[1] London’s houses were the exact opposite of fire-retardant – after a warm, dry summer the thatch-covered wooden homes were perfect fuel; they caught fire easily and burned quickly. What made every challenge much worse was the exceptionally powerful east to west wind, fanning the flames and spreading embers to neighbouring streets.[2]

So, in 1666, as long as there were houses not yet ablaze, the fire could spread. And on that Tuesday the fire did.

Here’s one example. One of the rivers flowing through London is the Fleet. The river is how Fleet Street – the one time centre of the newspaper industry – gets its name, but today the river is almost entirely underground. In the 17th century, the Fleet was a sizeable river, and therefore a natural firebreak. It flowed about a mile west of Pudding Lane where the fire started.

Early that Tuesday morning, the Duke of York (James, the brother of King Charles II) stations his ‘firemen’ beside the river, determined to stop the fire’s progress. It will not pass this point. But the fire has a different plan. Driven by the gale, sparks fly high in the air, cross the river, and start new fires to the side and behind the soldiers. Now their lives are in great danger. All hope of halting the fire is abandoned and the Duke and his troops run to save their lives.

The soldiers are not the only ones trying frantically to escape the fire. The mass of London’s ordinary citizens, and the wealthy, upper classes, become very aware a fast-moving inferno is raging while they are imprisoned with it behind solid stone walls. Those ancient Roman-built city walls surround them on three sides with the River Thames on the fourth. The fire is spreading fast. It is clearly beyond anyone’s control. They must get outside the city walls. Citizens pack whatever they can carry on their backs and head for the city gates. The affluent are desperate not only for their lives but also for their valuable possessions. For those they need carts or wagons, and that generates opportunistic commerce. Prices for hiring a cart soar. A charge of a couple of shillings before the fire now becomes £40, equal to more than £133,000/$161,000 in today’s money. And the desperate demand to transport possessions creates new employment as the poor of the city hire out their labour as porters. Some load themselves with wealthy goods and are never seen again.

The mood now is panic. Throngs of people along with many horses and carts push towards each of the city gates. Those gates are narrow since part of their purpose is to protect the city from invading armies.[3] Narrow gates cause no problem for casual traffic in and out, but they soon block when huge numbers try to flee at once.

Then a difficult, dangerous situation gets worse. The crowds at the gates are frightened, and their fear quickly turns to anger. Some push even harder. There is a serious danger that people will be trampled under feet, hooves or cart wheels. That concerns the city magistrates. But those officials are also worried about something else. They need people to stay and fight the fire, not flee to safety in nearby fields. So they take the remarkable step of ordering the city gates shut. No-one is to leave. They must turn back and tackle the flames, “that, (with) no hopes of saving any things left, they might have more desperately endeavoured the quenching of the fire”.[4]

The magistrates’ reasoning is delusional. The hordes at the city gates will never go back. The city is an inferno. They have nothing with which to fight the fire. They cannot save a single building, but could lose their lives, their children’s lives, and what remains of their possessions. No-one turns back. There is near rioting at every gate. Before long the magistrates see sense, and order the gates reopened so people can escape the burning city.

As the Great Fire rages on two major buildings are threatened: the Tower of London and St Paul’s Cathedral. One is successfully defended; the other burns to the ground.

Defence

Fires burn strongly through Tuesday morning. The Duke of York’s firefighters are ruthless in tearing down properties to create firebreaks. With the King’s authority, they’re permitted to destroy private property, and now they do it on a larger scale. On the north edge of the fire, they create a massive firebreak, one they know the fire cannot jump. But they’re wrong. Still fed by strong winds, burning embers fly across the gaps, and the Great Fire continues its relentless march.

Then the fire does something wholly unexpected, something seemingly impossible, something deadly dangerous – it moves east. The gale has blown for more than two days east to west, and therefore pushed the fire westward across the heart of the old city. But now, with no change in the wind, from the fire’s origins in Pudding Lane flames spread in the other direction from one house to another.

The Tower of London as it is today.
[Duncan] from Nottingham, UK, CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

That is critically dangerous for one of London’s most prominent buildings, the Tower of London. The Tower is a military establishment, part of the city’s defences against invaders. Inside are barrels of gunpowder weighing some 600,000 lbs (272,155 kg). It’s the largest stockpile of gunpowder anywhere in the country. Massive heat alone could cause that gunpowder to ignite without the fire even getting close. The blast will destroy the Tower and nearby London Bridge. And, writes John Evelyn later, the detonation would have “sunk and torn all the vessels in the river and rendered the demolition beyond all expression for several miles about the country”.

Until now no-one at the Tower of London has been alarmed. Many times fires have started but quickly died down. Besides, the Tower is a major stone stronghold. No fire could harm the buildings or its occupants. But, as the fire raged through the city during Sunday and Monday, and now into Tuesday, the Tower’s garrison recognises this fire is very different. Despite the wind, the flames are coming their way. And they are very afraid.

The Tower of London is in fact a castle. The word ‘tower’ in the name comes from the White Tower, one of its oldest and most prominent buildings. (There are more details on the Tower of London in the footnote below.[5])

In the 13th century the initial castle walls were supplemented by outer walls, known as curtain walls. They were built behind a wide moat and a short distance further out than the walls around main buildings. Together the moat and curtain walls would be a near insurmountable barrier halting invaders getting near to the castle. So surely they would stop any fire threatening the Tower of London.

For many centuries, the landward side of the Tower of London has been protected by its curtain walls – the outer walls shown here are set apart from the inner walls.
Joy, CC BY 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0&gt;, via Wikimedia Commons

Except perhaps not this fire. Steadily it moves east, ever nearer to the Tower. The garrison inside know that other stone buildings – even the massive Baynard’s Castle – have been ruined by the fire. And their situation is much more perilous because of those massive stocks of gunpowder. They are almost literally sitting on a massive explosion.

Desperate requests for help are sent to James II. His men are needed today – right now – to save the Tower of London. But the firefighters never come. Every one of them has been sent west. All the assumptions are that new blazes will start where the wind blows the flames. No-one thought the flames could move east. But they do. And a catastrophe at the Tower of London is imminent.

The commanders wait and wait for firefighters until they dare wait no longer. Finally orders are given for gunpowder to be taken from the stores, planted in houses between the castle and the fire, and ignited. Those homes are privately owned, and the Tower’s soldiers have no authority to demolish them, but this is an extreme emergency.

With gunpowder placed inside dozens of houses, the order is given to detonate. The explosion is massive. Homes are blown apart, debris scattered over long distances. Above the noise of the fire, London’s citizens hear the blasts, many thinking the Tower itself is now in smithereens. But it’s safe. In fact a massive firebreak has been created, a gap so wide the fire cannot cross it. The London Gazette later reports that the fire came almost to the very gates of the Tower, by which they likely mean close to the curtain walls. But it came no further. The magazines of gunpowder inside are saved. The spread of the fire to the east is stopped.

Disaster

But it’s not stopped on the west, not where St Paul’s Cathedral sits on Ludgate Hill. The location is not close to Pudding Lane, where the fire began, but distances are not large in the city, and the wind is still driving the blaze steadily westward. Now it’s near to the cathedral.

An engraving of Old St Paul’s as it looked before the fire of 1561 in which the spire was destroyed. 
Francis Bond (1852-1918)Anton van den Wyngaerde (1525-1571W.H. Prior, Typographic Etching Co, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

The cathedral is the fourth church dedicated to St Paul to sit on that hill. Like many cathedrals in medieval times, it was constructed over a long period of time (from 1087 to 1314) and frequently altered later. The old cathedral was a very impressive structure, close to being the longest church in the world, and with one of the tallest spires. The beauty of its stained glass windows earned them a mention in Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales. The length and beauty of its nave was particularly remarkable. It soon became known as ‘Paul’s walk’.

Pilgrims came from far and near to visit a shrine inside the cathedral, admiring its decoration with gold, silver and precious stones. Monarchs held occasional court sessions in the cathedral. There was at least one riot, but also royal weddings. Kings lay in state before their funerals. Bishops and nobles were entombed there.

Old St Paul’s, however, seemed to lose its spiritual focus. Paul’s Walk became a gathering place and even a marketplace in the late 1300s. The bishop had to circulate an open letter denouncing the selling of goods, firing stones and arrows at nesting birds, and those guilty of ‘playing at ball’ and breaking expensive painted windows. From then on, such perpetrators would be excommunicated.

The nave of (old) St Paul’s, known as Paul’s Walk.
Wenceslas Hollar – St. Paul’s. The nave (State 1)jpg: Wenceslas Hollar, restored by Bob Castle derivative work: Bob Castle, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

But many London citizens did nothing more stirring than use the ‘Walk’ as a gossip centre. In the pre-printing press age, news was shared verbally and ‘Paul’s walkers’ visited simply to stay up to date with what was happening, mostly sharing information related to commerce and state business. Some historians say that by the 1600s: ‘Infested with beggars and thieves, Paul’s walk was also a place to pick up gossip, topical jokes, and even prostitutes’.[6]

But spiritual fervour was not the only thing to deteriorate at the cathedral. By the 16th century the building’s structure was in a seriously poor condition. Partly that was due to post-Reformation action against religious centres. Partly it was simply because St Paul’s was poorly constructed in the first place.

In 1561 the near record-setting tall spire was gone. It caught fire and crashed right through the roof of the nave, the main central area of the cathedral. Blame was quickly attributed to a lightning strike which set the spire on fire, melting the bells and the spire’s lead covering, which then flowed like lava on to the roof, destroying it. Catholics and Protestants blamed each other for displeasing God.

St Paul’s, set on Ludgate Hill, as it was shortly before the Great Fire. The spire no longer exists.
Claes Van Visscher, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

The spire was not rebuilt, and repair work on the roof was of a very poor standard. Within a few decades the roof was in danger of another collapse. When Charles II became King, he determined to restore the condition of St Paul’s. He had the very man for the job, Sir Christopher Wren. Wren surveyed the building, and, finding its whole structure unsatisfactory, recommended that the building should be completely demolished. That solution was opposed by both clergy and citizens. Wren relented, and instead proposed restructuring walls and creating a dome to replace the existing central tower.

Though debates about repairs still raged, a beginning is made in the early 1660s, and St Paul’s is covered with wooden scaffolding. And now, in 1666 with the Great Fire raging, the stone cathedral which would never burn is packed with the goods of local businesses, including the stocks of printers and booksellers from Paternoster Row. Wealthy citizens have brought in their money, paintings, valuable furniture, fine wines, gold coins. And a miscellany of ordinary, nearby residents have carried inside whatever they consider important. But what they’ve all done is put their possessions inside a building wrapped in highly flammable wood.

The sun sets, but there’s no darkness because the Great Fire has arrived.

Remains of the Cathedral after the fire drawn by Thomas Wyck, c. 1673
Thomas Wyck, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

People hope St Paul’s will be spared because it’s a house of God, and because a wide plaza separates it from nearby homes. Their hopes are dashed. Nothing stops this fire. Around 8.00 pm burning embers settle on the scaffolding. It’s dry, and the heat as the fire approached has made it easily combustible. The wood bursts into flame, first here and then there, fire spreading from spar to spar. Soon the whole exterior of the cathedral is alight. The intensity of the blaze melts the lead remaining on the roof. Thick stones crack and break apart with loud bangs that many think are gunfire. The building is collapsing. If those sheltering inside stay they’ll die. Wisely they abandon their goods and run to save their lives. Within a few hours St Paul’s is no more.

The contemporary writer John Evelyn said that what remained was no more than a ‘sad ruine’ with very little still intact, He adds: ‘It was astonishing to see what immense stones the heate had in a manner calcin’d’[7] That included the stationers’ books which are still burning a week later.

St Paul’s Cathedral is destroyed. Wren’s dome will have to wait.

The end is nigh

Crowds watch St Paul’s burn to the ground. What they don’t know is that St Paul’s is the last major building to become a victim of the Great Fire. During the night between Tuesday and Wednesday, the easterly wind which has driven the flames finally eases.

It is the change everyone has longed for. If the fire is no longer driven from one building to the next, there is a chance it can be beaten, or even that it’ll just burn out. In fact, both those things happen during Wednesday.

No longer do embers soar over gaps and no longer is there fresh fuel for the fire to burn. Certainly, the close proximity of houses might still have allowed a slow spread of the flames, but now, without the strong wind, the creation of firebreaks actually works.

The Duke of York’s exhausted and demoralised teams of firefighters rally. They have a real chance of stopping the fire from spreading. Furiously they tear down houses. Some they blow up. There is a new ruthlessness in creating very wide firebreaks, gaps which would not be bridged by the flames. And it succeeds.

The spread of the Great Fire ends, and on that Wednesday – the fourth day – burning diminishes and by dawn the next morning the fire is practically out. Small fires continue for a while –  coal still burns in cellars for two months – but the battle is won.

Probably some celebrate, but most mourn. The diarist, Samuel Pepys, climbs a church steeple to assess the destruction, and records that it was “the saddest sight of desolation that I ever saw”. Tens of thousands have lost their homes. Some camp in any area of the city the fire has not burned, and many more settle in the fields outside the walls. Their next phase of suffering is just beginning. John Evelyn sees people huddling under makeshift tents, and writes: “Many were without a rag or any necessary utensils, bed or board … reduced to extremest misery and poverty”.

In the final part of the story of the Great Fire, we’ll learn much more about the aftermath of the fire, including the number of casualties, plans to build a new-look London, and what happened to the man convicted of starting the fire even though authorities knew he hadn’t.


My major online resources for this series on the Great Fire are listed at the foot of the first episode. See https://occasionallywise.com/2023/01/28/great-fire-of-london-1/


[1] Here and in various other places there are details drawn from History in Numbers, https://historyinnumbers.com/events/fire-of-london/

[2] Burnt paper was later found 20 miles away, and scorched silk 30 miles away.

[3] I described the city gates in the previous episode of this series: https://occasionallywise.com/2023/02/10/the-fire-that-changed-the-weather/

[4] Some of the information in this section from Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Fire_of_London

[5] Work on building the White Tower is thought to have begun in 1078, but the origins of the overall Tower of London are earlier. William the Conqueror was victorious in the Battle of Hastings in 1066, and then pressed further into England, that is into ‘enemy territory’. He ordered many castles to be built, and he particularly wanted to overawe citizens of its largest city, London. Hence he would have a large fortification there, predominantly of stone, on the south-east corner of the ancient Roman walls. The old walls would be part of its defences, and the River Thames immediately to the south would give further protection.

[6] Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Old_St_Paul%27s_Cathedral

[7] He’s referring to ‘calcination’ which, in his day, referred to reducing an object to its base elements.