Remember, Remember the Fifth of November

November is a crowded month for commemorations. It is, of course, Sweet Potato Awareness Month, but the first week is National Fig Week. During that week, Nov. 2 is Deviled Egg Day, but then Nov. 12 is Fancy Rat and Mouse Day and Nov. 19 is World Toilet Day (shouldn’t that be “whirled?”), which is followed immediately on Nov. 20, National Absurdity Day.

One could be forgiven for thinking we’ve invented a “day” for nearly everything, yet tucked among these novelty observances is one of the oldest and most peculiar annual celebrations in the English-speaking world — Guy Fawkes Day, better known in Britain as Bonfire Night.

The story begins in the early 1600s, when England was still fractured by the upheaval that followed the Reformation. King James I, who took the throne in 1603, inherited a divided nation. English Catholics, long marginalized under Protestant monarchs, hoped James might ease restrictions on their worship. When he did not, a group of disillusioned Catholic gentlemen turned their frustration toward politics. Led by Robert Catesby, they conspired to destroy the Houses of Parliament on the day of its ceremonial opening—November 5, 1605—killing the king, his ministers and the assembled members of government. Their goal was to topple the Protestant establishment and without a “designated survivor” mechanism in place, they could replace it with one sympathetic to their cause.

To bring their plan to life, the conspirators turned to Guy—also known as Guido—Fawkes, a seasoned soldier of fortune who had fought for Catholic Spain and knew his way around gunpowder. His task was to guard 36 barrels of the stuff, hidden in a cellar beneath the House of Lords. But the plot began to crumble when an anonymous letter warned one nobleman to stay clear of Parliament. A midnight raid followed. Fawkes was discovered with the explosives, arrested, and soon forced under torture to name his fellow plotters. Most met their deaths by sword or scaffold. Thus ended the Gunpowder Plot, and England erupted—part in relief, part in outrage.

Parliament soon declared Nov. 5 a national day of thanksgiving and that night Londoners celebrated with bonfires, marking the beginning of what would become a long-standing tradition. For generations, Britons burned effigies of Fawkes—and sometimes the Pope—in massive public bonfires, accompanied by fireworks, church bells, and the famous rhyme:

“Remember, remember, the fifth of November,

Gunpowder, treason, and plot.”

Over time, the day lost much of its sectarian edge and evolved into something more communal and lighthearted. The observance spread throughout Britain’s colonies, where bonfires and fireworks marked the occasion from Boston to Sydney. In colonial America, festivities echoed the old traditions through the late 18th century when supplanted by celebrations of independence. Similar customs persisted in parts of Canada, Australia, and New Zealand well into the twentieth century, often merging with the local rites of autumn.

Today in the United Kingdom, Guy Fawkes Night remains a beloved seasonal ritual, though it is not an official holiday. Towns and villages across Britain host bonfire parties and fireworks displays, often organized by local charities or councils. Families bundle up against the cold, children wave sparklers and the bonfires are crowned with a “Guy.” Sometimes he resembles the historical Fawkes and sometimes a modern political figure or celebrity, but always destined for the flames.

Although the religious strife that inspired the original plot has long faded, the symbolism of the night endures—not as a celebration of vengeance, but as a reflection on how political fanaticism nearly altered the course of history. It has become a paradoxical festival of failed rebellion, a night when the people throughout the English-speaking world gather around a bonfire to remember danger, deliverance--or just to have a good time.