A LONDON FIRE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume I, Issue 309, 8 November 1864, Page 6

A LONDON FIRE.

[From the S/iecta/or, July 9.] "\V e are accustomed to think of moral contagion, of the infective power of human sympathy, ns so com-mon-place that it. fails to excite even our speculative wonder, —but few hiivo drawn attention to something which is finite us real, if not quite as common the power which the great elemental forces o' nature exert in stirring up a sort of sympathy will; their destructive ardour in the minds of spectator-' Dr. Arnold in a letter to Archbishop "Whately comments oil the fact that not only have plague ami famine frequently p:eccded revolutions or grenl national wars and movements, which is probably onlv a case of cause and ell'ect, bnt that period of extraordinary volcanic energy and other violent natural ■ phenomena have usually (as at the time of the greal I struggle of Christianity with Paganism) been alsc j periods of great political change and destruction M hatever deeper reason there may be for such a | association of raging elements with great mora' | movements, no one who watches his own and his j friends' minds during the progress of a great fire can i doubt that the destructive agencies of nature open I tip a fountain of exultation even in the most hum- | drum .and reasonable man's breast,—a sort of moral J >'cho io its destructive rage. There is something sc i essentially lini'ted in all the works of hlunar hands, something that while it measures the j victories of civilization raises sncli a grudge, as it weri ! against its tedious and despotic miuutia 1 , that tlicrt j rises quite irresistibly a sort of triumphant cheer out j of the heart when one sees the mounting flame hipping I Up in a moment or two of fury the slow remits o) | small fatigues and chronic industries. Kot, indeed ! that one ever rejoices in the particular work ol I destruction—the more one realises the value and j meaniug of what is destroyed, (lie more does one j regret triumph over the destructive sympathies,— j but that the vision of a great elemental energy that | has power in a few instants to shrivel up tho uecumu- | hited deposits of human toil, and to resolve them | back again into the primeval forces and substances ; of nature, satisfies the imagination and relieves men i for a moment of the tiresome burden of civilization. | The same sort of feeling which evidently raged in j the heart of Carivle as he exulted in the leaping ! flames of the French Kcvolution swallowing up the | decrepit struciui-e of the ages, glows obscurely, we ; imagine, in the hearts of all men when they see the i living parable of a great fire. They may take no j pleasure, may feel real pain, in tho actual work of I destruction but the great picture before their eyes rouses all tficir sympathy with tho boundless forces which human art sticcecds in keeping in chains, stirs a port of wild protest against, the tame details which hedge lis in everywhere, the musty regularities ol habit, the awful monotonies of diet, board, and lodging—a protest which, though eminently unpractical, sleeps somewhere or other even in the most domestic man, and docs not sleep, but wukeß in a crowd. The great fire which burst out suddenly on Thursj day afternoon in the Royal Chapel of the Savoy was curiously adapted to test this feeling. It was far less J exciting than a night fire would have been, both because the flumes, magnificent us they were, were of course subdued by the broad daylight, and because human nerves are never liable to tho same tension under the light of day as they are by night. Clear perception, and apprehension of limits, still the throb of infectious excitement as oil stills troubled waters. There was no extraneous stimulant of any kind to add to the influence of the lire, —no vaguo currents of exaggerated and inflated rumour, —110 sense of personal danger, no panic of excited multitudes. Yet ue noticed on every face of the group in which the present, writer was watching that great body of flame u sceret exultation. The walls of the chapel were, from the first a mere shell for the fierce clement which rushed out at every window, licked the walls, and played over the walls, and played over the edges of the roof like lambent lightning. Tho woodwork of tho pews, we suppose, furnished the fuel for this wonderful bonfire, mid as there were no divisions in the chapel the flame was one great homogeneous unit —a son of mighty stone bath filled to the brim with liquid lire. From tho first moment wo saw it, it was quite evident that nothing could save anything still within the chapel, and nothinc apparently except the registers, a shabby pulpit cushion, and tho vestments had been rescued from it. These last some ono— with that kind of presence of mind which so often frantically rescues an old chair or a worn-out hat at imminent rislc of life from beneath a blazing roof— had extracted and deposited triumphantly, in the lit.'.l■> gravcy ird. Uevond the mere grandeur of the spectacle—>< li i presented much such a picture as we remember l<> have seen a dozen times portrayed in oi l pictuie Bibles as the fire of Gehenna minus the souls in torment—the chief interest of it lay in tho point of contact between the chapel and tho Strand. The chapel was an island of lire with the narrowest p <s--ib <> Sstrait between it and tho back promises of Mr. Finney, thu tailor, which, us was soon evident, would assuredly take the infection. Kvery one with back premises looking on tho Savoy was speedily awai e of the special privilege he possessed in compeii-a ion for his special ruk, and che neighbouring roofs and windows wire soon swarming with animated faces on which it was impossible n<t to notice a certain tone of elation. To cur surpri e tho roof of a weighty official paper soon sent forth an ardent and female population, while the " staff" app arc-d in tho background, evidently deeply interested in the question whether tho weekly organ of Mr. Disraeli, the J'rejs, was to meet with tho baptism of fire, or only to be saturated with

thoss showera of cold water which extinguiah everything ardent. It appeared in the sequel that cold watoi was too liberally thrown on otir Tory contemporary to admit of the impending ignition, and tile staff oi the official organ; beaming with it gentle comply ectlcy, ii'cceptod the omen. l'hb quaintest part ol Vho spectacle was the demeanour of thei crowd in tlic fc>trand as the fire caught the premises of Mr. Finney, an,d shpwed its to. tliat crowded thorbughfarb. Then} wis lio excitement; but a. gentib Clectitin, aa oi a foast-day, sjjroaii tkrough the "dim common populations." There ; was an evident sympathy with the flames. A knot of small hoys discussing the mattci on the gentle eminence of the opposite kerb-stone wore morally softened by the pleasure of the unexpected treats " Was anyone hiiriit in the chapel ?' said.oiie of it silhgliihe nature, who in the exultatior Of iiis heart had just exploded a paper bag distended with air against a convenient lamp-post, and there))) to his great delight startled an eager spectator " No," said his companion with the candour of reluctant honesty. " Not even the priests t" said the firni urchin, wjtli.a shade .of melancholy! ..a? if spectacle had Cheated iiis expectations, and. turnec out hollow alter all. Other little boys, who evidently enjoyed the stimulus quite as keenly, found a safety valve for tho exuberance of tlieir festal feeling il paddling and raking the overflowing gutter suppliet from the fire-engines, and only refreshed themselv from time to time witli an upward look directed U verify the delightful fact of the fire. It seemed t< bo to them a tonic which afjded zest to their norm;i occupations, rather than gave direct food for thci imagination. But tile most voluptuous enjoymen of tlu j-fJ-'ctiicle was that of a red-faced niiddlo-fige< hian, decently dressed, whtf purchased a basket of fin' strawberries that ho might combine cooling sensa tioiu-i with hot thoughts. He stood at tho corne of Wellington-street, his eyes fixed on the fire his fingers selecting hy tho sense of touch alone tho strawberries that completed the harmony o his emotions, tho huger strawberries rising to his lips at every good burst of flame and the poorer ones keeping time to ihe temparar; success of the engines. No doubt he congiutulatei himself on having improvised for his menta pleasure a sort of accoinpanifnent on th as novel as it was ingenious. Even on th most intellectual faces there was an unmistakeabl drobp as the .magnitude of the calamity seemed t contract, and it became apparent that the Sfrand wa safe. And yet there was ho one there who did no thoroughly sympathise with tho chivalrous firemen one of whom was seen in tho act of calmly bendin his head into the chimney of tho blazing house iorder to direct the energies of the firemen in th street below. In short nothing brings out liko a great fire th conflict in the hearts of men between the dostructiv and conservative forces, —a destructiveness which i partly a protest against this petty and blotted life, dumb desire to clear away the artificial forms of ex istence, and a conservatism which delights in com batting and conquering the fury of tho natural elt ments, and rescuing' wlnit is human from their grasj It is, if not exactly an instructive, at le;.st a mo; impressive and interesting occupation, to watch th play of these opposite sympathies in the epectatoi of a great fire, whore both arc so fully called int play. In a great Alpine thunderstorm, Nature cai ries the whole stream of sympathy, and there is n power of resisting it, and the heart of the spectafc quickly goes into captivity to its fascination, an almost heats time to its pulsations ; but in a 1 city fii the conflict is more equal; the magnificence of tb element carrying you away ono moment, sympath with the unknown sufferers bringing you back th next, —so that it needs something of the heroisi which the firemen almost invariably display to tur the scales decisively, and give the victory to th satisfaction with which after a long contest you st the great floods of the steam fire-engine triump completely over tho sinking flames.