What Did Regency England Do in November? (Spoiler: They Set Stuff on Fire)

Ah, November in Regency England. No Thanksgiving, no pumpkin spice, no Black Friday stampedes, but did they sit quietly sipping tea and contemplating the fog? Absolutely not. They had Guy Fawkes, the patron saint of “let’s blow up Parliament” and unlicensed fireworks mayhem.

Who, you ask?

On 5 November 1605, Guy — also known as Guido when he was feeling particularly theatrical — Fawkes was caught babysitting enough gunpowder to send Parliament into orbit. Whether this was an actual Catholic plot or the 17th-century version of a political frame-up is still debated. Either way, England said, “Let’s commemorate this with bonfires and general hooliganism,” and never looked back.

Plotting, powder, and possible Frame-Up

The brain's trust behind the plot — Robert Catesby, Thomas Winter, John Wright, Thomas Percy — decided the best way to solve England’s religious tensions was to blow up the government. Their explosives expert? Guy Fawkes, who had a résumé full of Spanish military gunpowder handling and dramatic facial hair.

Unfortunately, one of their recruits, Francis Tresham, had a brother-in-law in Parliament. Tresham sent him a “maybe skip work on the 5th” letter, thus ending the element of surprise. All conspirators except Tresham were executed. History has opinions.

And here’s where things begin smelling fishier than a 1605 Thames morning:

All gunpowder was stored in the Tower of London, so how did the plotters obtain barrels of the stuff?

Several smaller plots had already been discovered, so authorities were alert.

The cellar they used was rented from a close friend of Robert Cecil who was King James I’s chief minister and suspected puppet master.

Historians now look at Cecil like: “Hmmmm...whose side are you on, dude?”

Guy Fawkes caught red-handed (and Later, Very Sore)

The official story: Lord Monteagle alerts the authorities and a dramatic search ensues. Fawkes is found guarding the gunpowder with a lantern and a suspiciously guilty expression. He is promptly tortured until he gives up the other conspirators, and his signature on the confession later looks like a spider had a nervous breakdown. Hardly surprising after a session in the royal interrogation chamber. Whether real conspiracy or well-orchestrated trap, Parliament thought, “Let’s make this a holiday.”

Enter: The Observance of 5th November Act (1605). A national day of thanksgiving celebrating the fact that Parliament had not exploded.

Regency England loves a bonfire

By the 1620s, people were building bonfires, banging pots, and celebrating the day like a national excuse for chaos.

Then William III arrived (birthday: 4 November) and decided to hitch his own public relations to the event, ordering that the annual service also acknowledge his “happy arrival” and “the Deliverance of our Church and Nation.” Never waste a good party for a little self-promotion.

By the 1700s, children were roving the streets begging for pennies for their stuffed “Guy” (that's the effigy destined for immolation). This tradition was so popular that newspapers alternated between reporting on it and complaining endlessly about it.

In fact, it's during a bonfire — when guests are distracted by watching the fireworks — that, Lady Lydia Clifton, the heroine of my Regency romance A King's Mistress, chooses to flee a most disagreeable house party.

Pyromaniac poetry for kids:

The first recorded rhyme (1677) was essentially:

Now boys with

Squibs and crackers play.

And bonfires blaze

Turns night to day.

Translation: “Children, go forth and lose your fingers.”

By 1742, the rhyme evolves into the famous “remember” version. Eventually it becomes the chant nearly everyone in England knows as equal parts history lesson and call to arson:

Remember, remember the Fifth of November,

The gunpowder treason and plot,

I know of no reason

Why the gunpowder treason

Should ever be forgot.

And of course the enthusiastic conclusion: “What should we do with him? Burn him!” History is rarely subtle.

How did Regency London celebrate?

• Regency-era observers noted:
• Children begging for “a penny for the guy”
• Horrific effigies paraded through the streets
• Boys acquiring matches and lanterns (which should have alarmed every adult within 20 miles).
• Wild bonfires
• Drunken revelry
• Disorderly conduct
• London matrons shaking their heads and saying things like “this town is going straight to ruin”

John Brand confirms in 1813 that boys still dragged their terrifying Guy Fawkes effigies through the streets holding a lantern in one hand and matches in the other. Safety considerations were clearly not high on anyone’s priority list.

Bonfire Toffee: a Regency version of a sweet

Bonfire toffee — which could remove dental fillings at twenty paces — was associated with Guy Fawkes Night. Although the word “toffee” does not appear in print until 1825, treacle had been boiled for sweets since the 1600s. It was sometimes called claggum or clack in Scotland, or losin du in Wales. For a “sweet,” it was reportedly quite bitter, possibly matching the mood of anyone attempting to chew it.

According to Laura Mason’s Sugar-Plums and Sherbet, bonfire toffee was especially popular in Yorkshire from about 1830 to 1900.

The real focus though, remained bonfires, fireworks, burning effigies, and riotous good fun. Regency England did not need Thanksgiving. They had:

• Bonfires
• Fireworks
• Effigy burning
• Nursery rhymes encouraging arson
• Treacle toffee strong enough to threaten dental stability.
• General chaos

Truly, November was their time to shine — preferably while waving a burning torch and chanting about blowing up Parliament.