BURNING OF THE THEATRE ROYAL, MELBOURNE. (1872, March 28)

The Melbourne Argus of the 20th describes at considerable length the destruction of the Theatre Royal, early that morning, by fire; and further particulars are given in the issue of the 21st. The first sign of the disaster was seen shortly after midnight of the 19th, when the fire-bell sounded, and a cloud of dark smoke and then a long narrow flame were observed ascending from the back of stage portion of the theatre. Not many moments after – the volume of smoke having largely increased – a portion of the back roof fell in, a pillar of fire 50ft. high shot up towards the sky, and before one could count a hundred, the flames shot along the roof of the theatre with a speed that resembled the ignition of a train of powder. From the point above described the flames proceeded with steady pace, first to spread over the stage, and thence over the whole of the vast interior of the house. The area of the Theatre Royal stage was enormous, and it was crowded with light wooden work in the shape of the frames of scenery, dressing-rooms, properties, and suchlike. These were soon enveloped in roaring rose-coloured flames the mere heart of which was sufficient to ignite the wood seats in the pit, and then the box circle, the upper box tier, and the galleries, which reached to the ceiling. The iron roof lasted after this but a second or so, and then there rose to the sky such a vast volume of bright fire as made the few thousand persons in the street (for at no time were the spectators particularly numerous) yell in their mad excitement.

The United Insurance Brigade and other brigades soon arrived at the fire, and at imminent risk poured streams of the Yan Yean into the roaring flames. At first the water appeared only to add new fuel; but in time the value of the efforts made was apparent. The fire was kept within the four walls of the theatre, and what promised to be an unsurpassable disaster was stayed within an hour and a half of the first outbreak.

The building was actually on fire for some time before the fact became known outside. A watchman named English, who slept on the premises, had lain down on a sofa but had not fallen asleep, when he observed signs of burning in the neighbourhood of the dressing rooms. He aroused the gasman, Goulding, who was asleep, and the two got the hose, and did what they could to extinguish the fire. A painters labourer, and Mr. Pitt, the lessee of the café in front, came to their aid. The fire, however, had gained a hold on very inflammable materials such as the light wooden frames and the canvass of the scenery, and increasing rapidly, compelled them to beat a retreat. People then were hammering at the back door, and were admitted by Goulding; but, as English stated, from the time when he first saw the fire till he ran away only about ten minutes elapsed, and in that time the flames had spread as if the place were made of tinder.

Great alarm and confusion were caused by the fire in Little Bourke-street, and in James Lane, behind the theatre, where swarms of Chinese inhabit miserable tenements, but these were protected by the height of the theatre walls. In Bourke street, in the immediate neighbourhood, were St Georges Hall, Pain’s Museum of Australia and Polynesian curiosities, Mr McDonald’s photographic establishment, and the Café de Paris. Here the chief mischief was done by the crowd, who rushed in and recklessly turned the contents of the houses into the streets. At St Georges Hall this work of destruction was soon checked (as was also the danger from the fire itself, at one time very great), so they contented themselves with howling and dancing on the stage and endeavouring to compel the manager, whom they had captured, to give them a song. At Mr Macdonald’s cameras, cases of negatives, packages of portraits &c, were tossed out in confusion. At Mr Pain’s the collection of works of art, of entomological specimens, and curiosities of various sorts, brought together by Mr Pain and his wife as the work of their lifetimes, were hurried into the street. Fortunately, however, the loss really suffered in this case was but trifling. Mr Pain was not insured.

In the theatre the destruction has been complete. All traces of dress-circle, stalls, boxes, pit, and gallery have been swept away, saving a few charred fragments, while the stage, and all the apartments attached thereto, have entirely vanished. From the division wall which cuts off the café, cloaking room, &c, from the auditorium of the theatre at the one end to the property-room abutting on Little Bourke street at the other, is simply a blank space, with not a stick standing to obstruct the view. The framework of the dress circle, boxes, and gallery, which dropped into the pit and stalls, have been completely devoured by the flames, and the roof of the building has shared the same fate. Instead of tiers of boxes and rows of seats, over-looking a stage and orchestra, there is now a yawning space and floor of blackened embers. No vestige of roof remains, and bare brick walls mark the place where a fine theatre lately stood. In St George’s Hall the flames actually penetrated the roof, and the rest at one time was imminent, but the actual damage can be easily repaired, and the performances have not been interrupted. Mr Pitt, of the café was fully protected his insurance amounted to £700, and the damage to about £800. Mr MacDonald held an insurance for £700, and a special one for £100 upon a grand piano, which the crowd rolled down the staircase. Mr Joseph, a draper, has lost a large amount of valuable stock by the clearing out process, which his insurance is not expected to cover. Mr Coppin’s position, it appears, is worse that was at first believed. The theatre was originally insured for £4000, and it was thought that there was still current a policy for £1000, but it turns out that this policy expired a few months ago, and that the insurance company refused to take the risk again.

As to the remains of the build, the City surveyor has expressed the opinion that the side walls, especially the western one, have been rendered unsafe by the action of the fire.