Lost History – The Great Tornado of London
As the Icelandic volcano Fagradalsfjall spews its streams of lava, the good people of Reykjavík must be reminded of the eternal precariousness of animal survival. Even in a densely populated location that has accommodated human habitation for centuries, mother nature can suddenly strike and ravage. In London and the rest of the world, the threat of nature’s swift and lethal intervention has been underlined by the global proliferation of a dangerous disease. But when was London last in peril from an immediate incursion from the climate?
There are numerous examples of floods, fires, frosts and storms diminishing London’s populace and dispersing its denizens, but perhaps the most intriguing of the forgotten horror stories from the vast catalogue of natural catastrophes in the city’s history is the tornado of 1091. Of course, a strong squall or overwhelming torrent could exact deeper damage on comparably primitive structures and architectures, but the sheer speed and scale of the destruction described in 11th century chronicles and discovered by contemporary investigations is horrifying.
Tornados are a rare occurrence in major British cities. In 2005, a tornado struck Birmingham at approximately 140 mph. In 2006, a tornado tore through north London, reaching a Fujita tornado rating of F2 (111-135mph). The London tornado of 1091 is estimated to have achieved an intensity of F4 (166-200mph). This is the first report of a tornado in English history and is the most violent yet. It ripped through the centre of early medieval London and inflicted havoc on the 18,000 people living there. The wooden version of London Bridge, built by William the Conqueror, was demolished. Some six-hundred homes were abruptly flattened (though curiously only two deaths were recorded). The church of St Mary-le-Bow was blown to smithereens and its 26 foot rafters were hurled in various directions before the punishing winds plunged their lengthy masses into the sodden ground. They were said to be so deeply driven into the mud that only four feet visibly protruded out of the earth.
William II who had inherited the throne of England from his conquering father rebuilt the bridge and oversaw numerous repairs and renovations of the capital, but further evidence of the calamity is still sought and discovered by meteorologists today. To put our poor London ancestors’ plight into modern perspective, the TORRO scale that measures a tornado’s ferocity describes a T8, which is what the tornado of 1091 was, as resulting in “motor cars hurled across great distances. Wooden-framed houses and their contents dispersed over long distances; stone or brick houses irreparably damaged; skyscrapers badly twisted and discernibly bent to one side; shallowly anchored high rises being toppled and other steel-framed buildings being buckled.”
We have all heard of the Great Fire of London, of the Great Plague and now experienced the Covid-19 pandemic, but the Great Tornado of London is a blood-curdling episode in London’s history that should not be forgotten. The story of that egregious event should remind us how sudden the advent of disaster can be. The pandemic has revealed our vulnerabilities as a species, as well as our abilities to eliminate threats to our survival, but the Great Tornado ought to prompt an appreciation of our collective fragility.