For six awful days and seven nights the fire raged, and then, when it was supposed to have been extinguished, it burst forth again for three more days. The sight must have been appalling. We can picture the huge sheets and tongues of flame sweeping ever onward, the fearful heat, and the immense volumes of smoke which mounted upward and obscured the sky.
The panic-stricken people fled to the imperial gardens, but whispered that Nero himself had originated the fire. To divert suspicion, he spread reports that the Christians were the culprits; and they were treated with atrocious cruelty, some being wrapped in fabric covered with pitch and burnt in the Emperor's grounds. The guilt of Nero remains a moot point; but he seems to have acted with some amount of liberality to the sufferers, though his acts of humanity did not free his name from the foul suspicion.
The conflagration itself stands out as one of the most terrible in history. Before its furious rage the capable Romans seem to have been reduced to impotence. Their organization, if they had any, seems to have been powerless; and their appliances, if they used any, seem to have been worthless.
We are entitled to draw the deduction that they had no machine capable of throwing a steady, continuous stream from a comparatively safe distance. No band of men, however strong and determined, could have stood their ground sufficiently near the fierce fire to throw water from buckets, pipe-bags, or even portable pumps. For small fires they might prove of service, if employed early; but for large conflagrations they would be worthless. And if Rome, the Mistress of the World, was so ill-provided, what must have been the condition of other places?
We may infer, therefore, that the means of fire extinction in the ancient world were miserably inadequate.
Had mediæval Europe anything better to show?
"A baker's house they say, name of Farryner."
"Faith! it's in Pudding Lane, nigh Fish Street Hill," quoth another spectator, coming up. "They say the oven was heated overmuch."
"It's an old house, and a poor one," said another speaker. "'Twill burn like touchwood this dry weather."
"Aye, it have been dry this August, sure enow; and I reckon the rain won't quench it to-night." And the speaker looked up to the starlit sky, where never a cloud could be seen.