The Great Fire of New York (1776) and London (1666)
“Unlike the Great Fire of London in 1666, which cleansed its alleys of plagued vermin, blasted a millennium’s worth of microbes out of the gutters, and razed the medieval hovels, so giving Sir Christopher Wren the opportunity to construct a modern city atop its ruins, the fire which ravaged New York left large parts of it a macabre pyre” -Alexander Rose
September 1776:
Just days after British troops recaptured New York, the Union Jack was lit up not by celebratory fireworks, but by a mysterious conflagration pictured above.
Unlike the British landing on Long Island the month before, the Continental Army had mustered along what is now Second Avenue in Kips Bay to oppose the landing rather than retreating further inland. However, the immaculately measured artillery on the British fleet positioned at the mouth of Newtown Creek saw to it that the defenses were “softened” for the landing with an artillery barrage so loud and devastating that it shattered windows in New York.
General William Howe endeavored to complete the landing on the anniversary of the triumph at Quebec under James Wolfe in 1759, which he was proud to be a part of, but his brother’s fleet was at the mercy of the wind, which did not align to such a concurrence. As the first wave of eighty flatboats carrying some 4,000 redcoats and Hessians pushed off from Long Island (what is now Long Island City and Maspeth) under Sir Henry Clinton, the ominously quiet ships in the East River erupted with an incessant artillery barrage. The Continental breastworks along modern Second Avenue were utterly leveled. Heavy lead cannonballs ripped through the militia taking potshots, who quickly broke rank and retreated. Washington galloped in on his gray horse, threw his hat on the ground, and exclaimed “are these the men with which I am to defend America?” with enough ferocity to reach the ears of some of the men despite the incessant artillery roar. The mass of cannonballs also tore into the ground, carving ditches that trapped those in retreat and burying some of the men in sand.
Although he still had to contend with the Continentals in northern Manhattan, Howe accomplished his main objective, restoring British rule to New York City and all of Long Island. But the city that would serve as British headquarters throughout the rest of the American Revolution was hardly to be the most hospitable. Just days later on the 20th, thick smoke rose above the city emanating from a fire churning so bright and large that the orange glow was visible to Washington’s army in the far north of Manhattan. Prisoners languishing on the infamous prison ships watched with wonder as sharp winds blew the fire north and west as the conflagration grew from Whitehall Slip to consume almost all of the city between Broadway and the Hudson River. The conflagration brightened the entire night, peaking when the flames scurried up the spire of Trinity Church on Broadway, the tallest point in New York. The Anglican edifice came crashing down, but a change in wind forced the flames away from St. Paul’s Chapel, which survives to this day. The larger saving face was that the army had not yet set up a magazine in the city nor was a magazine ship at the dock; had this ignited, it would’ve perhaps leveled the whole city.
As the embers cooled the next day, Howe lost no time in designating New York as his garrison town. Fort George and the Kennedy Mansion at 1 Broadway emerged unscathed and any property owned by patriots who fled the city was confiscated for quarters. Regiments drilled in the charred foundation of Trinity Church, parading their colors around the town to the cheers of loyalist citizenry- and ever increasing numbers of Refugees pouring into New York. Perhaps the greatest obstacle created by the Great Fire of 1776 was the shortage of shelter for the thousands of loyalists who descended on New York from colonies held by patriots. Their plight would encumber British supply lines, already stretched thin supplying the tens of thousands of troops sent to quell the rebellion and garrison strongholds like New York. The audacious men found work in loyalist regiments or as woodcutters on Long Island, but the women and children proved a constant encumbrance on British command, and each time the British evacuated land gains to consolidate in New York, a wagon train of loyalists were sure to follow.
As the wind blew the fire off course the following day, so too did Washington’s beleaguered attitude from Kips Bay improve as a result of the fire. “Providence- or some good honest fellow has done more for us than we were disposed to do for ourselves” he wrote. No one has ever been implicated in starting the conflagration.
Great conflagrations were common in those days and most of those who witnessed the Great Fire of New York were acquainted with stories of the Great Fire of London, which raged for five days in 1666. Thatch and wood roofing were a conspicuous but overlooked invitation for conflagrations at a time when open fires were ubiquitously utilized. Emanating from a bakery in the medieval City section within the Roman wall, the fire gutted the entire City district (for those unfamiliar with London, the “City of London” is a small but dense district in the city of London itself). The fire likely would’ve eviscerated other parts of London had the six hundred tons of gunpowder in the Tower of London and thousands of tons of powder on docked ships been ignited. Desperate means were employed to justify the ends, as slender metal fire hooks and controlled demolitions using gunpowder were used to level buildings.
Londoners dashed to stash valuables in the crypt of St. Paul’s Cathedral, plausibly believing its stone walls and firebreak of a surrounding plaza would halt the fiery advance. However, the ancient cathedral was surrounded by wooden scaffolding for piecemeal restoration. It took just a half hour for the flames to melt the lead roof and use all the books that had been piled into the crypt as a sort of furnace. The five day fire grew so intense that it created its own weather system; hot enough to melt metal.
However, it proved to be a powerful episode of creative destruction. The flames leveled the medieval hovels in the City, scorching untold numbers of disease ridden rats and fleas, along with the unsanitary conditions that allowed their proliferation. The Great Fire notably broke out just as the Great Plague of 1665 began to wind down. While many dispute that the Great Fire saved more lives in the long run by extinguishing conditions rife for plagues, it did prove to be the last great plague in London.
As the embers cooled in the sterilized City, the brilliant architect Sir Christopher Wren had a blank canvas to recreate a more sanitary masterpiece crowned by the rebuilt St. Paul’s Cathedral, which narrowly survived the Blitz.
In the peaceful crypt of St. Paul’s Cathedral, one finds his tomb marked by perhaps the best epitaph of all: “Here in its foundations lies the architect of this church and city, Christopher Wren, who lived beyond ninety years, not for his own profit but for the public good. Reader, if you seek his monument — look around you. Died 25 Feb. 1723, age 91.”
His art was so prolific for posterity that his monument can be seen in the structures he designed after the Great Fire.
