Transcription
James’s Volunteers and Lambeth Association ran to arms as soon as they heard of the fire; they formed a line round the fire and the engines, and thus kept off the crowd from impeding the efforts of the firemen, and protected the furniture of the adjoining houses, which was brought out into the street. All the space from Westminster Bridge to the Turnpike is loaded with the effects of the poor sufferers.
The whole of the Theatre is consumed, and nothing is left of that beautiful little building but a heap of black and smoking ruins. The range of the fire was most fatal towards and in Phoenix-street. Between ten and twenty houses are consumed in that street, and as it is inhabited by poor people, none of whom be are, we suppose, insured, their distress may easily be imagined. They were running about for hours in a state of frantic despair. Here a mother might be seen with her naked and screaming children clasped to her breast, running about the street in the wildest agony; there a poor mechanic wringing his hands at the loss of all the little implements of his trade. The scene was dreadful beyond conception. Most of the houses on the side of this Theatre are much damaged, particularly the back past of Mr. Penlington’s, the Chemist. About six o’clock the flames were got under.
We have not heard that any but Mrs. Astley’s mother fell a victim to the flames. Two children belonging to a waterman were in great danger, but by the intrepidity of the firemen were saved. A constable, named Butt, was very active in endeavouring to rescue as much as possible of Mr. Astley’s property from the flames. He succeeded in saving the chests, in which were deposited plate and other valuables.
Mr. and Mrs. Astley came to town, we hear, yesterday morning, to behold a scene, that few have ever had misery to witness—their property in one night destroyed—their mother a mangled corpse. It was only on Wednesday that the mother of Mr. Astley was buried; the next night was to deprive them of the mother of Mrs. Astley, and to deprive them of her in so dreadful a manner! The father too of Mr. Astley is now a prisoner of war in France. What a scene of accumulated misery and horror!
FURTHER PARTICULARS.
The fire, we have just heard, broke out in the lamp room; some sparks from the fire-works fell upon the tow in the room, and set it in a blaze. The top of the Theatre was much higher than the adjoining houses, and the roof in falling did them much damage. Nearly forty houses are either destroyed or injured.
The flames, when they reached the scenes, of which there was an immense quantity, and chiefly painted in oil, raged with such fury, and diffused such an intense heat, that there is scarcely a pane of glass within the distance of fifty feet which was not cracked or shrivelled. The houses in front, at each side of the Amphitheatre, the inhabitants having received a timely alarm, and being supplied with water, have been but slightly injured. In the rear of the building, the first intimation of danger was given by the shrill cries from pigs, expressive of their sense of heat and suffocation. These houses were inhabited by a number of poor families, who had the great difficulty in saving their numerous children from the impending calamity. These houses were defended by a strong partly wall, by the great depot of the scenery immediately adjoining, the flames on the timbers, and in that way destroyed the greater part of the upper floors. Of the Theatre noting now remains but the mere shell, every thing which was combustible being completely destroyed.
Yesterday presented the melancholy spectacle of the removal of Mrs. Woodman’s remains. The cones, they were successively dug out, were taken in a basket to the public house opposite, where they were arranged in a coffin for interment. Her fate is the more pitiable, as she had at one time a near prospect of safety, a ladder being raised to her window, by which she might easily have escaped, if she had not been fatally induced to return, for the purpose of saving some valuables.
The visitation of the same kind, and in the same place, occurred on the night of the Duke of York’s Birth-day, August 16, 1794. The destruction which then took place, and in a familiar way, was as complete as in the present instance.
A number of wretches, as usual, profited of the moment of affliction, and under the pretext of assisting, despoiled the sufferers of watches, spoons, &c. This nefarious practice, however, was put to an end by the arrival of the volunteers and soldiery, who maintained strict order. At one o’clock yesterday, there was still some fire to be seen through a thick smoke, but the engines had ceased to play, as there was no danger whatever of its spreading further.
It is reported, and we hope with truth, that the Theatre was insured to the amount of 7000l.
