"The summer of 1825 was unusually warm in both hemispheres, particularly
in America, where its effects were fatally visible in the prevalence of
epidemical disorders. During July and August, extensive fires raged in
different parts of Nova Scotia, especially in the eastern division of
the peninsular. The protracted drought of the summer, acting upon the
aridity of the forests, had rendered them more than naturally
combustible; and this, facilitating both the dispersion and the progress
of the fires that appeared in the early part of the season, produced an
unusual warmth. On the 6th of October, the fire was evidently
approaching New Castle; at different intervals fitful blazes and flashes
were observed to issue from different parts of the woods, particularly
up the northwest, at the rear of New Castle, in the vicinity of
Douglasstown and Moorfields, and along the banks of the Bartibog. Many
persons heard the crackling of falling trees and shriveled branches,
while a hoarse rumbling noise, not dissimilar to the roaring of distant
thunder, and divided by pauses, like the intermittent discharges of
artillery, was distinct and audible. On the 7th of October, the heat
increased to such a degree, and became so very oppressive, that many
complained of its enervating effects. About twelve o'clock, a pale,
sickly mist, lightly tinged with purple, emerged from the forest and
settled over it.
"This cloud soon retreated before a large, dark one, which, occupying
its place, wrapped the firmament in a pall of vapor. This incumbrance
retaining its position till about three o'clock, the heat became
tormentingly sultry. There was not a breath of air; the atmosphere was
overloaded; and irresistible lassitude seized the people. A stupefying
dullness seemed to pervade every place but the woods, which now
trembled, and rustled, and shook with an incessant and thrilling noise
of explosions, rapidly following each other, and mingling their reports
with a discordant variety of loud and boisterous sounds. At this time,
the whole country appeared to be encircled by a _fiery zone_, which,
gradually contracting its circle by the devastation it had made, seemed
as if it would not converge into a point while any thing remained to be
destroyed. A little after four o'clock, an immense pillar of smoke rose,
in a vertical direction, at some distance northeast of New Castle, for a
while, and the sky was absolutely blackened by this huge cloud; but a
light, northerly breeze springing up, it gradually distended, and then
dissipated into a variety of shapeless mists. About an hour after, or
probably at half past five, innumerable large spires of smoke, issuing
from different parts of the woods, and illuminated the flames that
seemed to pierce them, mounted the sky. A heavy and suffocating canopy,
extending to the utmost verge of observation, and appearing mere
terrific by the vivid flashes and blazes that darted irregularly through
it, now hung over New Castle and Douglass in threatening suspension,
while showers of flaming brands, calcined leaves, ashes, and cinders,
seemed to scream through the growling noise that prevailed in the woods.
About nine o'clock, P.M., or shortly after, a succession of loud and
appalling roars thundered through the forests. Peal after peal, crash
after crash, announced the sentence of destruction. Every succeeding
shock created fresh alarm; every clap came loaded with its own
destructive energy. With greedy rapidity did the flames advance to the
devoted scene of their ministry; nothing could impede their progress.
They removed every obstacle by the desolation they occasioned, and
several hundred miles of prostrate forests and smitten woods marked
their devastating way.
"The river, tortured into violence by the hurricane, foamed with rage,
and flung its boiling spray upon the land. The thunder pealed along the
vault of heaven--the lightning appeared to rend the firmament. For a
moment all was still, and a deep and awful silence reigned over every
thing. All nature appeared to be hushed, when suddenly a lengthened and
sullen roar came booming through the forests, driving a thousand massive
and devouring flames before it. Then New Castle and Douglasstown, and
the whole northern side of the river, extending from Bartibog to the
Naashwaak, a distance of more than one hundred miles in length, became
enveloped in an immense sheet of flame, that spread over nearly six
thousand square miles! That the reader may form a faint idea of the
desolation and misery, which no pen can describe, he must picture to
himself a large and rapid river, thickly settled for one hundred miles
or more on both sides of it. He must also fancy four thriving towns, two
on each side of this river, and then reflect that these towns and
settlements were all composed of wooden houses, stores, stables and
barns; that these barns and stables were filled with crops, and that the
arrival of the fall importations had stocked the warehouses and stores
with spirits, powder, and a variety of cumbustible articles, as well as
with the necessary supplies for the approaching winter. He must then
remember that the cultivated or settled part of the river is but a long,
narrow strip, about a quarter of a mile wide, lying between the river
and almost interminable forests, stretching along the very edge of its
precints and all around it. Extending his conception, he will see the
forests thickly expanding over more than six thousand square miles, and
absolutely parched into tinder by the protracted heat of a long summer.
"Let him then animate the picture, by scattering countless tribes of
wild animals, and hundreds of domestic ones, and even thousands of men
in the interior. Having done all this, he will have before him a feeble
outline of the extent, features, and general circumstances of the
country, which, in the course of a few hours, was suddenly enveloped in
fire. A more ghastly or a more revolting picture of human misery can not
well be imagined. The whole district of cultivated land was shrouded in
the agonizing memorials of some dreadful deforming havoc. The songs of
gladness that formerly resounded through it were no longer heard, for
the voice of misery had hushed them. Nothing broke upon the ear but the
accents of distress; the eye saw nothing but ruin, and desolation, and
death. New Castle, yesterday a flourishing town, full of trade and
spirit, and containing nearly one thousand inhabitants, was now a heap
of smoking ruins; and Douglasstown, nearly one-third of its size, was
reduced to the same miserable condition. Of the two hundred and sixty
houses and storehouses, that composed the former, but twelve remained;
and of the seventy that comprised the latter, but six were left. The
confusion on board of one hundred and fifty large vessels, then lying in
the Mirimachi, and exposed to imminent danger, was terrible--some burned
to the water's edge, others burning, and the remainder occasionally
on fire.
"Dispersed groups of half-famished, half-naked, and houseless creatures,
all more or less injured in their persons, many lamenting the loss of
some property, or children, or relations and friends, were wandering
through the country. Of the human bodies, some were seen with their
bowels protruding, others with the flesh all consumed, and the blackened
skeletons smoking; some with headless trunks, and severed extremities;
some bodies were burned to cinders, others reduced to ashes; many
bloated and swollen by suffocation, and several lying in the last
distorted position of convulsing torture; brief and violent was their
passage from life to death, and rude and melancholy was their
sepulchre--'unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown.' The immediate loss of
life was upward of five hundred beings! Thousands of wild beasts, too,
had perished in the woods, and from their putrescent carcasses issued
streams of effluvium and stench that formed contagious domes over the
dismantled settlements. Domestic animals of all kinds lay dead and dying
in different parts of the country. Myriads of salmon, trout, bass, and
other fish, which, poisoned by the alkali formed by the ashes
precipitated into the river, now lay dead or floundering and gasping on
the scorched shores and beaches, and the countless variety of wild fowl
and reptiles shared a similar fate.
"Such was the violence of the hurricane, that large bodies of ignited
timber, and portions of the trunks of trees, and severed limbs, and also
parts of flaming buildings, shingles, boards, &c., were hurried along
through the frowning heavens with terrible velocity, outstripping the
fleetest horses, spreading destruction far in the advance, thus cutting
off retreat. The shrieks of the affrighted inhabitants, mingling with
the discordant bellowing of cattle, the neighing of horses, the howling
of dogs, and the strange notes of distress and fright from other
domestic animals, strangely blending with the roar of the flames and the
thunder of the tornado, beggars description.
"Their only means of safety was the river, to which there was a
simultaneous rush, seizing whatever was buoyant, however inadequate;
many attempted to effect a crossing; some succeeded; others failed, and
were drowned. One woman actually seized a bull by the tail, just as he
plunged into the river, and was safely towed to the opposite shore.
Those who were unable to make their escape across plunged into the water
to their necks, and, by a constant application of water to the head,
while in this submerged condition, escaped a dreadful burning. In some
portions of the country, the cattle were nearly all destroyed. Whole
crews of men, camping in the interior, and engaged in timber-making,
were consumed.
"Such was the awful conflagration of 1825, on the Mirimachi."