Meria
Elder Lister
At about 9:30 on the morning of November 1, 1755, an earthquake estimated at 8.5 to 9.0 on the Richter Scale struck Lisbon, Portugal, violently shaking the city and surrounding area for about five minutes, reducing 85% of the city to rubble. At the time the earthquake struck, most of the people of Lisbon and other Portuguese cities were in church, celebrating All Saints Day. Tens of thousands of them were buried alive when the buildings collapsed.
In celebration of the holiday, all the candles in Lisbon had been lit. The toppled candles ignited fires that soon had the stricken city engulfed in flames. When the quake finally stopped, the ocean sucked out of the harbor, leaving it dry land for about 45 minutes, until a massive tsunami swept in and over the city, drowning many who had survived the collapsing buildings and subsequent fire.
The total number of people killed in the earthquake is impossible to know exactly but is estimated that as many as 75,000 of the city’s 200,000 residents died.
In the aftermath of the disaster, people tried to make sense of it. A major European capital with a deeply religious population had been destroyed on a major religious holiday. Every church in Lisbon had been destroyed, along with a vast collection of priceless religious artifacts and works of art. Tens of thousands of the victims had been killed while attending church. In the mindset of the time, it was assumed by most that the disaster was divine punishment for something.
The Lisbon Earthquake became one of the most profoundly significant events of the Early Modern Era. Philosophers and theologians wrestled with how to explain the catastrophe. Probably best remembered is Voltaire’s stinging mockery in Candide of Leibniz’s claim that this is “the best of all possible worlds.” Eventually, as the Great Enlightenment matured, people came to recognize that developing the science of seismology was more important than debating theological explanations for the disaster.
The Great Lisbon Earthquake occurred on November 1, 1755, two hundred sixty-seven years ago today.
In celebration of the holiday, all the candles in Lisbon had been lit. The toppled candles ignited fires that soon had the stricken city engulfed in flames. When the quake finally stopped, the ocean sucked out of the harbor, leaving it dry land for about 45 minutes, until a massive tsunami swept in and over the city, drowning many who had survived the collapsing buildings and subsequent fire.
The total number of people killed in the earthquake is impossible to know exactly but is estimated that as many as 75,000 of the city’s 200,000 residents died.
In the aftermath of the disaster, people tried to make sense of it. A major European capital with a deeply religious population had been destroyed on a major religious holiday. Every church in Lisbon had been destroyed, along with a vast collection of priceless religious artifacts and works of art. Tens of thousands of the victims had been killed while attending church. In the mindset of the time, it was assumed by most that the disaster was divine punishment for something.
The Lisbon Earthquake became one of the most profoundly significant events of the Early Modern Era. Philosophers and theologians wrestled with how to explain the catastrophe. Probably best remembered is Voltaire’s stinging mockery in Candide of Leibniz’s claim that this is “the best of all possible worlds.” Eventually, as the Great Enlightenment matured, people came to recognize that developing the science of seismology was more important than debating theological explanations for the disaster.
The Great Lisbon Earthquake occurred on November 1, 1755, two hundred sixty-seven years ago today.
