When Newcastle and Gateshead Burned: The Great Fire of 1854

By Thomas Bainbridge

Many well know the story of the Great Fire of London: Ignited in a baker’s oven in Pudding Lane, the blaze spread across the city, sowing havoc and destruction, so that great portions had to be rebuilt. But less commonly remembered is a similar occurrence which erupted in Gateshead nearly two centuries later. The Great Fire of 1854 decimated the town and spread across the river to Newcastle, claiming 53 lives and causing incalculable damage.

Hive of Actvitiy

By the 1800s, Newcastle had become a major industrial beacon for the country. The Tyne exported major shipments of coal to power the ever-hungry fires of manufacture and transportation across the globe. From the dockyards sailed and steamed vessels which travelled the waterways of an increasingly interconnected world: to America, India, Australia, while ships also brought in their own cargoes of goods, foodstuffs and raw materials. The city was a hive of activity: bustling factories, workshops and warehouses crowded the river and markets sprang up daily on the Quayside.

Amid the clamour of industry, fire was an ever-present threat. Even in brick factories, the goods contained within were often heavily flammable. One such building was the J. Wilson and Sons’ Mill on the Gateshead side, in which workers spun yarn to produce fabrics. Though an earlier fire had laid waste to a mill on the site, another had been built and was back in full production.

Late into the night, only half an hour past twelve on the 6th October, 1854, a blaze was discovered on an upper floor of the mill. It instantly roused attention, as those in the surroundings were woken by the uproar and rushed to the scene.

The goods on the lower floors were not yet ignited, and some clambered to salvage what they could. The flames grew intense and caught the oil supplies in which the fabric was treated. The mill was evacuated and onlookers watched as the building succumbed to the immolation.

Despite the efforts of firefighters, the entire site crumpled. So far, the blaze was only confined to this one building. Then came an even worse catastrophe.

Powder Keg

In the built-up Gateshead Quayside, other buildings naturally crowded close to the mill. With the increasing intensity of the heat, the flames danced and sputtered. One simple spark leapt to a nearby warehouse and ignited the contents, which were fatefully primed to cause chaos. Amid the packing cases and barrels were containers of sulphur and sodium nitrate, key ingredients in fertilisers and explosives. These chemicals produced a lava-like mixture which flowed down the floors of the building, setting more of it alight.

Before long, the warehouse was fully ablaze in a blue flame produced by the chemicals. It looked likely to suffer the same fate as the mill.

An immense crowd had gathered in the pre-dawn gloom to spectate, unaware of the danger. Thus far, without any loss of life, it was little more than a grand and sombre spectacle. Yet, things then took a more tragic aspect as the pressure built in the confined space of the warehouse.

As Professor Alfred Swaine Taylor, Fellow of the Royal Society, later hypothesised during the inquest, whereas a less sturdy building would have give way beforehand, the reinforcement by brick and concrete essentially replicated the firing mechanism of a musket: When the pressure was great enough, “the vaults of the warehouse were burst open” by a ferocious explosion. The noise and force ripped through the air, reverberating for miles around.

Convulsion

In the immediate area of the blast, the results were devastating. Spectators were blown to the ground, stunned. Others were hit by shrapnel, sustaining horrendous injuries or killed outright. Others standing further back, found themselves deafened, their ears ringing with intense pain.

The Tyne was said to have convulsed with the force of the blast. The clock of St. Mary’s Church stood still to record the instant of the detonation.

Many amongst the crowd leapt to the aid of the injured, despite the noxious fumes and the column of black smoke that rose into the sky. All vehicles were commandeered to transport the wounded to the dispensaries which soon overflowed. Others, when it was found there was no longer space for them, were taken to their homes to at least be assured of a bed.

Sparks Fly

Still, the tragic episode was not over, as the explosion had hurled debris hundreds of metres into the air and across the river into Newcastle. These now started separate smaller fires which then converged into another great inferno. Many buildings had been rent apart by the blast, as though an earthquake had struck, before the fires had even began.

The Newcastle and North British Fire Brigades, already hopelessly overstretched, courageously contended against the calamity. From the High-Level Bridge, the scene was described as “a great cauldron” in which the flames raged incessantly.

The plight of the two towns was soon realised. The explosion had been heard as far away as Hartlepool, while in Tynemouth and Hexham it was assumed to be gunfire. One chronicler recorded: “The workmen at Monkwearmouth Colliery, the deepest in thekingdom, and at least eleven miles away, heard the explosion, and came to bank in alarm.”

The telegraph operators furiously tapped out dire requests for help. From across the region came the fire brigades of Durham, Sunderland, South Shields, even as far as Berwick and Carlisle. The floating fire-engines of South Shields and Sunderland were sent down the Tyne to the Quayside, where smoke engulfed the pilots, who were surrounded on all sides by a blackened scene of desolation.

Over a few hours, the fires were slowly beaten back. Amongst the crowd was the local Mayor, David Haggie, Esquire, who battled the flames alongside the police, army and lawyers of the town, all woken from their beds in haste.

As in London in 1666, buildings had to be demolished to prevent the spread of the conflagration, many of which were the rough tenements of the working class who were then left destitute of their homes and possessions.

The river was also recruited, providing an unending well to stem the flames, and these were eventually brought under control, despite the ever present threat that they would renew themselves under the ash and debris. One more outbreak did occur on the south side the following day, which was also defeated, leaving now the serious effort to rebuild the shattered remains.

Gateshead had fared badly. Whole streets were decimated including Canon Street, Hillgate and Church Walk. In Newcastle, the Quayside was smashed, buildings were gutted, windows and roofs were blown in. Scarcely a house in the lower and middle parts of the town escaped. Fifty-three souls had perished and three times as many were injured, while the material loss amounted to £500,000.

And yet, despite the scale of the disaster, the industry of the region was renewed and the sites rebuilt. National inquiries were convened and safety measures developed. The loss of life, limb and property produced a great charitable drive to provide for the beleaguered families, with a relief fund aiding over 800 families in the area. And as is natural to the human spirit, though the memory lingered, life went on.

The devastating event was commemorated in a poem :

And a feeling of painful emotion came o’er us,
As we gazed on the soul-rending prospect before us;
For the blast of destruction had come as the wind,
Of the dreadful simoom in the deserts of Ind.

And crushed was the spirit and might of the bold,
And the heart that just bounded lay senseless and cold;
And we mourned in our spirit in bitterest woe,
O’er the memory of those whom the blast had brought low.

But who can describe the deep anguish and sorrow,
The sighs and the tears that were poured on the morrow,
When the horrible night of destruction was past,
And the dawn sadly lighted the desolate waste.

There had burst from the deep yawning cavern beneath,
A torrent of fire-the liquid of death;
Like the dire flaming flood of the terrible rain,
Which the Lord on his wrath poured on Sodoma’s plain.