In 1808 the old Covent Garden Theatre burned to the
ground. Although this is slightly outside the time period of the Venus Squared
series of novels, I was so taken by this description of that event I’ve posted
it here, in its entirety. In 1810 a new theatre was opened on the site of the old one. The 'new' theatre also suffered at the hands of a fire, burning down 1856. If you want to know what happened to it, well, it's where the Opera House is today.
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The Covent Garden Journal by John Joseph Stockdale, Report
dated April 28th 1810 – for George, the Earl of Dartmouth
THIS noble building, which was built in the year
1733, and enlarged, with considerable alterations, in 1792, was, on the morning
of the 20th September, 1808, reduced, by a most tremendous conflagration, to a
heap of shapeless ruins. The performance of the preceding night was Pizarro, a
spectacle wherein all the creative powers of the machinists and decorators had
been exhausted at both the theatres. It is supposed, that the melancholy
catastrophe occurred in consequence of the wadding from a gun (fired in course
of the performance) having lodged in some part of the scenery, which the prying
eye of the strictest investigator, could not possibly have provided for. The
portrait of Cervantes was the afterpiece, and both performances were received
with eclat by a crowded and elegant audience.
Inside the old theatre - circa 1804
During the representation, which was over by eleven
o'clock, nothing transpired indicative, in the least degree, of the mournful
sequel. About twelve, Mr. Brandon paid his usual visit of circumspection to all
parts of the house, and, conceiving that everything was perfectly secure,
retired shortly after to rest. The same unsuspected tranquillity prevailed at
two o'clock in the morning, at which time the watchman sedulously "paid
his sober round" and discovered nought whereon to ground alarm. About
four, however, a poor frail sister of the Cyprian band perceived the flames
bursting forth with concentrated impetuosity, and communicating her terrific
tale to the guardian of the night, the latter instantly called up Mr. Brandon.
Now a dense volume of smoke, and, shortly after,
wreathed columns of flame, were seen to issue from the ventilator, on the
topmost part of the roof. Within the space of ten minutes, this portion of the
building was, distinctly, observed on fire in different parts; and, in half an
hour, the whole edifice presented to the view a fiery furnace, from which the
flaming pillars rose, forming, in the most awful style of destructive elemental
architecture, a truly worthy temple of the sun. Though it was then broad day,
so intense and furious was the conflagration, that it was perceivable in many
of the most distant environs of the metropolis. The alarm became universal. The
engines of every fire-office in town, and of all the adjacent parishes,
rattling through the streets, with busy din, awakened the inhabitants to the
view of this scene, which rivalled, in ruddy splendour, the glory of the
opening day.
Thousands presented themselves before the theatre,
eager to manifest their zeal in arresting the baleful progress of the raging
element. In vain; — for, the houses, which so deeply surrounded the building on
every side, prevented the ardour of exertion from being attended with success.
The roof fell in about six o'clock ; and, so unexampled was the progress of the
consuming invader, that, before eight, the whole interior of this splendid building,
audience-part, stage, different entrances, treasury, music-room, &c. were
totally annihilated.
The Remains of the Old Covent Garden Theatre after the fire 1808
Perhaps there is no recorded instance of so complete
a destruction, of similar extent, in so short a space of time. Every composite
material of the building was, however, fuel to the fire, and the large area
served to ventilate it to that unsubdued pitch at which it had arrived. All
hopes of rendering service in this quarter be coming now unavailing, the
firemen directed their efforts to prevent the increase of the calamity, as the
houses which squared about the theatre were manifestly endangered. Owing to
their height, it was found impracticable for the engines to play over them;
but, the leather pipes being conveyed up the stair-cases to the third floors,
and their ends being thrown down and fastened to the engines below, an
ingenious facility of effective action was contrived. Nothing, however, could
prevent the communication of the flames with the houses in Bow-Street, to which
side the "Malus Auster" had an unfriendly inclination. Several of
them were connected with the theatre, by a respective appropriation to different
parts of the establishment. They, with some others, became victims to the manes
of the mother-edifice.
The fire raged with more violence at the eastern side
of the upper part of Bow-Street, where the house, No. 9, belonging to Mr.
Paget; Nos. 10 and 11, attached to the theatre; No. 12, belonging to Mr. Hill;
No. 13, the Strugglers Coffee - House, wherein Mr. Donne lost almost his whole
property ; No. 14, belonging to Mr. Johnson, the fruiterer; and No. 15, the house
of Mr. M'Kinlay, a book-binder ; were all completely destroyed, and scarcely
" left a wreck behind." The three latter houses, with the exception
of Mr. Donne's part of the property, were insured in the Hope, for, £2650. Some
of the others were entirely uninsured, and some only partially so. Nos. 16 and
17, in the same street, were seriously damaged. In Hart-Street, four houses
opposite to the theatre attracted this firey magnet at the same instant, and
were only, by the greatest activity on the part of the firemen, secured from
farther damage than a severe scorching.
The " proximus ardet Ucalegon," and the
" tua res agitur," were promptly attended to with respect to
Drury-Lane Theatre, which, it was apprehended, from the number of flakes
carried thither by the wind, would share in the sacrifice to the god of fire,
and receive the Salmonean punishment for a priority, in imitative effects, to
outshine the enraged deity. A great number of people had mounted the roof of
the Theatre of Drury-lane, in order to open the large cistern of water there in
case of necessity. The windows of that building were also stopped with wet
cloths, to prevent the entrance of the flames, — a precaution by no means
unnecessary. All the people in the immediate vicinage kept their servants
employed on their respective roofs to pick up the flakes of fire as they
dropped on them.
This has been the whole extent of injury sustained in
the neighbourhood; but as to the theatre itself, it wa6 totally consumed; and
even the walls on the Hart-street side were not left standing. In that angle of
the edifice, the Ship- tavern and part of Mr. Brandon's, the box-keeper's,
office, are the only remains. The amount of the insurances did not exceed
60,000/. and the savings from the Shakespeare premises amounted to about 3500/.
the entire being but one-fourth of the sum necessary to replace the great loss
sustained. In addition to the usual scenic stock was a great quantity of beautiful
new scenery for a melodrama which was to be shortly forthcoming.
Of the original pieces of music of Handel, Arne, and
many other celebrated composers, no copies had been taken; and of many others,
which had also been destroyed, only an outline had been given. Several capital
dramatic productions, the property of the theatre, were for ever lost. The
organ, left by Handel as a bequest to the theatre, which was valued at 1000
guineas, and never played but during the Oratorios, was likewise consumed. Mr.
Ware, the leader of the band, lost a violin worth 300/. which for the first
time in ten years he had left behind him. Mr. Munden's wardrobe, which cannot
be replaced under 300/. shared the general fate; as did Miss Bolton's jewels,
and other performers' property, in the aggregate amounting to a very
considerable sum.
We now come to the most painful part of the
narration, — the dreadful havoc committed on human life by the falling of the
burning roof. At an early stage of the fire, the great door under the piazza in
Covent-garden was broken open by a party of firemen, and an engine belonging to
the Phoenix fire-office, being introduced within the passage, was directed
towards the galleries where the flames raged most fiercely : horrid to relate,
the burning roof of that same passage, in which they were, fell in with a tremendous
crash, burying the unhappy and too daring firemen, with others who had rushed
in along with them, under its ruins. A considerable time elapsed before the
rubbish, which now obstructed the doors of this fatal pas sage, could be
removed. When effected, a scene of horror was presented to the view. The mangled
bodies of dead and dying appeared through the rubbish, or were discovered in
each advance to remove it. At twelve o'clock that day, eleven dead bodies had
been carried into the church-yard of St. Paul's, Covent-garden. Some miserably
mangled creatures, with broken limbs and dreadful bruises, were conveyed to St.
Bartholomew's, and some to the Middlesex, hospital. It would shock humanity to
draw a faithful picture of the situation of those wretched persons who were dug
out of the ruins alive; they were, in general, so much burned as scarcely to be
re cognized by their nearest relatives; and in many instances their flesh was
literally peeled from the bones. The dead bodies taken from the same place were
nearly shapeless trunks. The strictest examination, for the purposes of
identity, was vain, in those who came to claim the "sine nomine
corpus." The coroners for London, Middlesex, and Surrey, sat on 19 bodies
destroyed at the fire; viz. 12 at Covent-garden, 3 at St. Bartholomew's, 2 at
the Middlesex- hospital, and 2 at St. Thomas's.
Many persons were conveyed, in the most hope less
situation, to their own houses. The waste of human life, on this lamentable
occasion, falls not short of thirty persons. From the evidence of William
Addicote, one of the stage-carpenters of the theatre, and William Darley, one
of the firemen belonging to the Eagle Insurance-Office, and one of the jury, an
eye-witness of the falling in of that ceiling by which the unfortunate men were
burnt to death, — it appeared that the firemen and others who perished had been
employed in endeavouring to extinguish the flames at the room called the
Apollo, which had fallen in upon them. The surmises with respect to barrels of
gun-powder having exploded were proved to be unfounded, no more of that article
being ever kept in the house than was sufficient for the consumption of a
single night.
On the next day, another Victim was added to the
list, by the fall of the wall in Hart-street; several others were bruised
severely, though they had all been warned of their danger to no purpose. The
names of the deceased sufferers, as well as could be collected, are: — Mr. T.
Harris, jun. Mr. R. Davis Musket William Ricklesworth George Kilby John Seyers
James Stewart Samuel Stevens Richard Cadger T. Holmes James Hunt William Jones
James Evans J. Crabb T. Mead T. James Richard Rushton Mr. Hewitt J. Beaumont
Richard Bird James Philkins John Oakley Optician,of Hydcstreet,Blooms- bury,
Serjeant of the Bloomsbury Volunteers. A Gentleman lately from Wales to London
on a visit. Firemen belonging to Phoenix-Office.
Begging after the fire
Another person, a private in the guards, was taken to
the Military Hospital, where he died in three or four hours. These were the
names as nearly as could be gathered. Several were still missing. Mr. Richards,
clerk to Messrs. Shaw and Edwards, St. Paul's Church-yard, was so dreadfully
scalded by the water falling from the burning materials, that he died about 12
o'clock the same day. The firemen and others were employed for some days in
pulling down the tottering ruins which threatened destruction to the passengers
in Bow-street. On the following Saturday two more bodies were dug out of the
ruins. The books of accounts, deeds, and the receipt of the preceding night,
were fortunately preserved by the exertion of Mr. Hughes, the treasurer. Though
a considerable number of engines were in constant and prompt attendance, yet,
owing to the main pipe having been cut off with the intend of laying down a new
one, more than an hour elapsed before some of them could be supplied. During
this defect in the supply of water, the neighbours derived the most essential
assistance from the pump of the Bedford Coffee-house and Hotel. The utmost
effect was perceived from the playing of the engines for about an hour, when
all hope was lost by the crash which announced the falling-in of the roof, and
the consequent destruction of the elegant interior.
The Bedford and Piazza Coffee-houses owed their
preservation to a wall, some time since erected for the purpose of insulating
the theatre from the back of these premises. Among the other losses sustained,
the Beef-Steak Club, which held their meetings at the top of the theatre, and
has existed for many years, lost all their stock of old wines, valued at 1500/.
beside their sideboard, and other implements. Pieces of scenery and other
decorations were carried through the air to immense distances. A fragment of
carved wood, all on fire, fell near St. Clement's church, in the Strand. The
figure of Apollo, on the dome of Drury-lane Theatre, was a
strikingly-illuminated object, as the fiery shower fell around it. Great praise
is due to the volunteer corps and the detachments of horse and foot guards who
attended. Several miscreants, taking advantage of the confusion, attempted to
plunder, but were held in custody. The whole property destroyed amounted to
considerably more thau 100,000/. and, at the utmost, was covered by insurance
to the amount of 75,000/. The dark prospect of the proprietors may yet be
cheered by light, but "when shall it shine on the night of the grave?"
A subscription was opened for the relief of the sufferers. The King's Theatre
was very liberally offered to Mr. Harris by Mr. Taylor; and the Covent- garden Harris
by Mr. Taylor; and the Covent- garden Company played there till the
commencement of the Opera-season. The plan of a new theatre on the site of the
old one, to be completely insulated, was ordered and accepted by the
proprietors.
The new theatre built after the fire, pictured in about 1828. This too burned down.
Angela Elliott's book
The Finish, being the first in a four part series about Covent Garden prostitute Kitty Ives can be found
here.
