The Story of the Great Fire in St. John, N.B., June 20th, 1877

In Short

This book serves as a meticulous, immediate historical record of the Great Fire of Saint John, New Brunswick, which occurred on June 20, 1877. Through a blend of journalistic reportage and personal observation, the narrative maps the fire's relentless path through business districts, churches, and neighborhoods, while documenting the ensuing relief efforts. Written in the immediate wake of the disaster, it captures the frantic atmosphere of the city’s destruction and the subsequent transition from chaos to organized recovery, ultimately functioning as a collective testimony to the city's endurance.

The Story

The narrative begins by placing the disaster within the context of Saint John’s vulnerability, noting a history of fires that had long tested the mettle of its inhabitants. On the fateful day of June 20th, 1877, the city’s sense of security—bolstered by a misplaced faith in its fire department and infrastructure—is shattered. The fire originates near the residence of Dr. Boyle Travers and, fueled by high winds, moves with terrifying speed through the city’s central arteries.

The author describes the fire’s progress as a relentless “monster,” detailing its systematic consumption of Dock Street and the subsequent rush of merchants to save ledgers, bonds, and specie. The destruction of Market Square, once a symbol of the city’s commercial vitality, serves as a focal point for the narrative’s sense of loss. As the blaze advances, it obliterates landmarks like the old Masonic Hall, the St. John Hotel, and the Germain Street Methodist Church. The author captures the surreal, almost detached horror of watching the city collapse: buildings sink into rubble, and the harbor becomes a theater of flight, with ships sailing away to escape the heat.

Amidst the devastation, the narrative highlights the social friction and human behavior under duress. There are accounts of looting, where opportunists attempt to pilfer medicines and trinkets while the city burns, and conversely, acts of quiet heroism, such as the defense of the Marine Hospital, where a small group of men saves the structure through sheer persistence. The fire eventually reaches the churches and residential streets, leaving behind a "desert of desolation."

The final arc of the story shifts from the flames to the aftermath. As the city smolders, the narrative documents the arrival of aid and the formation of the St. John Relief and Aid Society. Drawing on the experience of survivors from similar disasters in Chicago, local leaders organize a structured relief effort to manage the influx of supplies and funds from across Canada and the United States. The book concludes with a poignant reflection on the intangible losses—the private libraries, family mementos, and sentimental objects that no insurance can replace. By cataloging the names of the lost businesses, the vessels destroyed in the slip, and the communities that sent relief, the author provides a somber, comprehensive map of a city stripped bare but already beginning the arduous process of rebuilding its physical and social fabric.

How It Unfolds

The gathering storm The author establishes the historical context of Saint John's past fires, setting the stage for the inevitability of the 1877 catastrophe. This introduction highlights the city's false sense of security regarding its fire-fighting capabilities.

The conflagration begins The narrative tracks the fire’s origin and its immediate, violent spread through the commercial district. It emphasizes the speed at which the fire overwhelmed the city's defenses, moving from the rear of a private residence to the bustling wharves.

The destruction of the heart The fire claims major institutions, including banks and market buildings, symbolizing the loss of Saint John’s economic lifeblood. The author details the frantic attempts by citizens to salvage their livelihoods and records amidst the encroaching heat.

The path of ruin The focus shifts to the residential and religious landmarks, including the destruction of various churches and community halls. This section conveys the emotional weight of seeing neighborhood institutions vanish into ash.

The struggle for order The narrative transitions to the immediate aftermath, detailing the arrival of outside expertise and the formation of a formal relief society. It outlines the transition from the chaos of the fire to the systematic distribution of aid.

The inventory of loss The book concludes by reflecting on the permanent disappearance of cultural artifacts and personal treasures. The author provides exhaustive lists of contributors and losses, effectively memorializing the city that stood before the fire.

The People

The book focuses less on individual biographies and more on the collective character of the city’s inhabitants. Thomas W. Daniel and John Boyd are highlighted as representatives of the city's commercial integrity, their partnership serving as a symbol of the enterprise that helped build the city's wealth. Their firm’s history is used to ground the economic loss in human terms. The rectors of Trinity Church, including George Bisset and Mather Byles, are mentioned to provide a historical lineage for the city’s religious institutions, representing the stability and tradition that the fire ultimately disrupted. Mr. Barnes, the keeper of the Marine Hospital, stands out as a rare figure of successful resistance; his small, stubborn defense of the building against the flames serves as a brief counterpoint to the widespread destruction. Finally, the "roughs" and pickpockets encountered during the fire, alongside the generous donors from cities like Montreal and Halifax, represent the moral extremes of the citizenry—those who preyed on the desperate and those who worked to restore order and charity.

In Its Own Voice

"When the schooners therein had caught, the flames mounted the masts and communicating with one another formed a complete bridge of fire from the north wharf to the south."

Describing the visual horror of the fire as it reached the harbor and consumed the shipping fleet.

"The supposed superiority of the fire department, and general efficiency of the water supply, having led to a false security--to a popular belief that it was impossible for St. John to be scourged by fire, as Boston and Chicago had been."

Explaining the psychological complacency that left the city vulnerable to such a rapid and total disaster.

What It's Really About

At its core, this work is an exploration of civic fragility and the resilience of a colonial society in the face of sudden, total loss. It questions the limits of human foresight, as the author repeatedly points to the hubris of relying on infrastructure that proved entirely inadequate. The book is also a study in the transition of a nineteenth-century urban center from a collection of private interests to a coordinated relief-based community. It argues that the true tragedy of a fire is not merely the burning of buildings, but the destruction of a city’s collective memory—the loss of the "old copies" of books and the sentimental artifacts that define a community's identity. Ultimately, it is a testament to the necessity of organization and charity in the wake of total collapse.

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in nineteenth-century urban history or disaster studies will find this book an invaluable, if sobering, primary source. It offers a visceral, ground-level perspective on how a major fire fundamentally reshaped a city’s landscape and social order. The writing is direct and journalistic, lacking the sensationalism that often characterizes modern disaster accounts; instead, it relies on the stark accumulation of detail—lists of lost businesses, names of ships, and descriptions of ruined architecture—to convey the magnitude of the event.

However, modern readers should be prepared for the book's stylistic limitations. It is not a structured novel, but a chronological report that can feel repetitive in its cataloging. The author’s Victorian perspective and the occasionally dense, formal prose may present a hurdle to those accustomed to modern narratives. The tone is deeply rooted in the era's class-conscious values, which are evident in how the author describes the "roughs" and the "respectable" citizens alike. Yet, for those willing to engage with its period cadence, the book offers a profound sense of place and a haunting look at how quickly a thriving city can become a history lesson. It remains a poignant, unvarnished look at human vulnerability.