PREFACE.

THE common events of Providence are, for the most part, by man, but little 
regarded. They present a stream, wide indeed, and majestic, but, moving 
with a current so silent, slow, and perpetually present, as to engage but 
a small portion of his attention. But sometimes the scene changes; the 
current is broken by awful rocks, or seen falling in tremendous cataracts. 
The observer ceases to be careless. He is shocked into serious meditation; 
and his memory becomes a treasury of solemn and instructive transaction.

Of the occurrences which have, of late, arrested and occupied the public 
mind, none has created a deeper interest than the fire at Richmond. The 
heart must be adamant, that does not beat with sympathy on viewing 
sufferings so extreme, and insensible to the monitions of Wisdom that does 
not collect some useful instruction from the catastrophe.

Whence, if not from such a calamity, shall we learn the instability of 
human condition? What are prospects the most enlivening to the eye of 
folly? what, but the sunshine of a moment? How strange a preface the loud 
laughter excited by a pantomime,

Page ii

to volumes of smoke and fire. An oracle of wisdom said of laughter, "it is 
mad," and of mirth, "what doth it?" What in some periods of extreme peril, 
can human effort or strength avail? Embodied crouds reduce it to 
feebleness; and the voice of anguish, the emotions of sympathy, and 
internal agitation, distract its efforts. What could pity--what could 
parental or filial tenderness effect? The father is destined to see the 
victorious flames tower over his suffocated offspring--the child is left 
to cry out, "amid those heaps of burning bones, my father, my mother 
lies." The lover hears the last shriek of the idol he adored, and falls a 
sacrifice to death by her side. Ah! how little thought the fair one whose 
curls were adjusted--whose garments, costly and elegant, were disposed, so 
as to produce on the spectator, the most impressive effect, that those 
curls were, that same night, to be crisped with devouring flame; and those 
garments to be denied the service of a winding-sheet!

A life of humiliation and poverty is often dreaded and derided as a real 
ill. But if it secures not the honours and gratifications which wealth and 
talent enjoy, it escapes their snares and afflictions. Amid a thousand 
incentives to contentment with an humble lot, let it be remembered, that 
not six of the lower classes of society found death in the blazing theatre.

Let the friends of piety learn, that godliness is profitable for the life 
that now is. It cannot enjoy the mirth of the foolish; yet the self-denial 
it imposes, is among the most valuable preservatives from disease and 
untimely dissolution. If with relation to action, the good man has often 
to say,

Page iii

"This did not I because of the fear of the Lord," with relation to 
suffering, he can frequently show, that grace divine is a shield to its 
possessor.

In a life transient as is the present, and on a journey to an invisible 
world of punishments and rewards, who would not wish ever to be found in a 
situation in which the approach of the "Great Teacher Death," should 
create no excessive surprize? Who would be willing to close the career of 
mortality in the very act of displeasing his Maker and his Judge! Who in a 
Theatre would be content to give up the ghost? Should the sable garments, 
the sighs, the tears of Richmond, awaken an inquiry into the propriety of 
supporting the stage, good will result from the evil. Let it not be said 
the Theatre may be rendered useful. The inquiry should be directed to what 
it is and has been, through all the ages of its establishment. Nazianzen 
among the fathers, Buchanan among the poets, and the excellent Hannah 
More, the fairest ornament of her sex, have successively endeavoured to 
supplant the vices of the Theatre, and to substitute amusements more 
chaste and sacred. But who that patronizes the comedian, desires such 
compositions as theirs? Is it recreation the lover of the playhouse 
requires? Let him seriously ask himself whether the diversion is not 
procured at too dear a price, which demands that property, which might 
have instructed the orphan and fed the poor--whether the agitation of the 
passions between tragic and comic scenes, comports with the good 
government of the mind, and with the calm of a useful and happy life. Let 
him ask if an unnecessary waste of time will not mark him with the 
character of an unprofitable

Page iv

servant. Man has business before him of too serious a nature, to allow 
much time for idle amusement.

Can laughter feed th' immortal mind?
Were spirits of celestial kind
Made for a jest--to sport and play,
To wear out time, and waste the day?

If the stage gave lessons of virtue, vicious men would abhor it; but, 
where is the profligate who dreads censure in a theatre! Character on the 
stage is almost ever distorted. Virtue is exhibited too angelic for human 
imitation; and vice is so allied to virtue, as to appear like a younger 
sister, or so sunk in infamy, as to become hated as a demon, without 
permitting the suspicion that the monster is seated in the heart. Plays 
are generally, and some of them grossly impure. The vail, which, by a 
double meaning, or a substituted word, is sometimes employed to conceal an 
abominable sentiment, is almost ever too transparent, and it may be feared 
purposely made so, to answer the avowed design.

It would be easy to adduce the sentiments of many of the wisest heathen, 
and still more of divines, philosophers, and patriots, who bear a decided 
testimony against Theatrical exhibitions, but our limits forbid. A passage 
from Mr. Law must suffice: "Had any one the power of an apostle, or the 
tongue of an angel, it would be well employed in exposing or dissuading 
from those ways of life which wealth, corruption, and politeness, have 
brought among us. We indeed call them diversions, but they do the whole 
work of idolatry and infidelity; and fill people with so much blindness 
and hardness of heart, that they neither live by wisdom

Page v

nor fell the want of it; but are content to play away their lives with 
scarce any attention to the approaching scenes of death and eternity."(*)

We are far from believing that the eighteen on whom the tower of Siloam 
fell, were sinners above all others. And equally so from supposing that 
such as have perished in play-houses have been singularly notorious in 
crime. Many visit the Theatre without reflection. Some are captivated with 
its splendour, or with opportunities of seeing and being seen. Others,
In spite of all that you can say
Can see no evil in a play:
and it cannot be surprising that multitudes of unsuspecting youths should 
tread in the print of their fathers' steps. Man is a creature fallen and 
depraved. He loves "a downward road." "All that is in the world, the lust 
of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, are not of the 
Father but of the world." Nothing that is greatly good, can in the present 
state of things, be greatly popular. The frequenter of the Theatre obeys 
the dictates of but a common depravity.

It may not, however, prove an unprofitable service, to remind the reader 
of the frequent visitations from God, similar to that under which Richmond 
is now groaning, which have befallen public Theatres.

(* If the reader would further inform himself upon the subject, let him 
consult Collyer on Stage Plays, and the writings and opinions of Pascall, 
the Prince of Conti, Cave, Usher, Tillotson, Sir M. Hale, William Penn, 
Rollin, Sir John Hawkins, Montague, Mr. Wilberforce, and many others.)

Page vi

A correct catalogue as not contemplated. Sufficient documents are not 
possessed, nor is sufficient leisure allowed, before the issuing of the 
present publication, to complete one. The following, which is purposely 
limited to modern events, may be considered ample, and is believed to be 
authentic.

At the fire-works exhibited at Paris, in honour of the Dauphin's marriage, 
the passages being stopped up, occasioned such a crowd, that the people 
trampled upon one another till they lay in heaps. A scaffold erected over 
the river also broke down, and near 1000 persons lost their lives. April 
21, 1770.

The playhouse at Amsterdam took fire, A. D. 1772; seven persons were 
suffocated and great numbers wounded in getting out. Since then a second 
fire has occurred, at which from 6 to 800 lives were lost.

The theatre at Saragossa, in Spain, was destroyed by fire A. D. 1772, and 
nearly all the audience perished.

The theatre of Venice was struck, during the representation, with a flash 
of lightning A. D. 1769, and several lost their lives.

The French opera, at the Palais Royal, was burnt at Paris, A. D. 1781, and 
multitudes perished.

The theatre at Montpelier was destroyed by fire, 1783, and five hundred 
lives were lost.

The theatre at Mentz was destroyed by fire during the play, A. D. 1786, on 
the falling in of which TO were burned, and many crushed to death.

At Clermont Ferrard, in France, in December,

Page vii

1791, the floor gave way, by which 36 were killed and 57 were badly 
wounded.

The theatre at Cape d'Istria, in Italy, fell A. D. 1794, and crushed the 
audience, and players to death.

The theatre at Altona, near Hamburg, was consumed by fire in 1807--8, and 
caused the loss of many lives.

The theatre in Berlin was burnt down in 1808.

In our country we have already witnessed the destruction of the theatre at 
Boston, and of Ricketts's Circus in Philadelphia.

LONDON,
Has been a seat of serious playhouse calamities.

The Opera House was burnt down A. D. 1789.

The Pantheon was burnt and destroyed to the value of 60,0001, A. D. 1692.

Astley's Amphitheatre and 19 other buildings burnt, A. D. 1794.

Little theatre in Hay Market, 15 trodden to death, 1794.

The Royal Circus, Black Friar's burnt 1805.

The cry of "a fight!" was mistaken for that of "a fire!" at Sadlers Wells; 
a universal alarm ensued, and many perished, A. D. 1807.

The Covent Garden Theatre, burnt A. D. 1808.

The theatre in Drury-lane has been twice consumed: first, A. D. 1671, and 
60 other buildings; and afterwards in 1809. It was a structure 400

Page viii

feet in length, and its erection cost 200,000 l. sterl. A reservoir was 
provided at its summit to supply artificial rivers, and afford an 
expedient in case of fire. So satisfied were the proprietors of its 
security, that on opening the theatre, the vain boast was uttered,

Our pile is rock more durable than brass,
Our decorations gossamer and gas;
The very ravages of fire we scout,
For we have here wherewith to put it out.
In ample reservoirs our firm reliance,
Whose streams set conflagration at defiance;
Consume the scenes, your safety still is certain,
Presto--for proof let down the iron curtain."

The public mind has been powerfully touched by the late calamity. The 
testimony of respect that has been paid by both houses of Congress to the 
memory of the dead, by ordaining that each of its members shall wear crape 
on his arm for a month, is a strong expression of popular feeling. Similar 
resolves have been formed, first, among the students from Virginia, now 
attending the medical lectures in the University of Pennsylvania, and who 
are said to consist of more than a hundred, and, since, by the young men 
generally in this great city. It reflects praise on the afflicted 
students, that they have requested a sermon suited to the melancholy 
occasion from the Rev. Dr. Alexander; and on the young men of 
Philadelphia, that they, with them, have determined to attend it. Happy, 
should it prove to them, the means of producing

Page ix

the fear of God, and the beginning of heavenly wisdom.

Richmond, afflicted Richmond, has resolved, that for four months, 
dissipation in no shape shall be permitted to approach her. May she have 
grace to protract the period still farther and farther. She has resolved 
that the theatre shall be converted into a temple of God. May it be filled 
with the brightness of his presence; and as it has been the spot on which 
death has triumphed, become distinguished for the victories of Him, who is 
the resurrection and the life.

But who does not perceive in such resolutions, all proper and praiseworthy 
as they are, how little the Theatre and the Sanctuary agree with each 
other? Let none plead for the virtues of the tragic or the comic muses. 
The universal prevalence of piety will as really chase them from the land, 
as the diffusion of the Christian system banished from Rome and Greece 
their false divinities.

We are not unconscious that in the occurrences of time, the same event 
often happeneth unto the righteous and the wicked. The roof may fall in, 
or the floor give way, while men are engaged in the solemn worship of 
their maker: but what has the man to fear in prospect of eternity, who is 
devoting his soul to the honour and service of his God? He is every where, 
and ever safe; and safe too, as to the noblest part of his nature. "Though 
the heavens pass away with a great noise, and the elements melt with 
fervent heat; though the earth, and the works that are therein, be burned 
up," "he stands on the ashes of a universe and exclaims, I have lost 
nothing."

Page x

In giving the particulars of the circumstances attending the awful 
conflagration, we have purposely restricted ourselves to the narratives 
which have been furnished the public, by the various eyewitnesses and 
official reporters. The utility of such a choice, will easily be made 
obvious. Observers and immediate sufferers write with a pathos and a 
sensibility of expression, so peculiar to themselves, as easiest engages 
the sensibility of the distant reader, in a manner which could neither be 
imitated by us, nor perhaps would be free from the charge of affectation, 
if attempted. For the same reason, nothing has been expunged, though many 
repeat the same events, because the language of passion more readily 
expresses the emotion of the mind. Even the same writers, are permitted to 
repeat the disaster; and thus we have a brief diary of the public anguish.

We have given the names of seventy persons who lost their lives by the 
conflagration, though it is highly probable from the quantity of 
discovered bones, that the number must have been still greater. None of 
the accounts furnishes us with any knowledge of the number who are yet 
likely to die of their wounds, or will in the injury of their limbs or 
persons, carry the evidence of their misfortune through life.

It is a remarkable fact, that though the catastrophe proved so fatal to 
the citizens of Richmond, there should not have been a solitary instance 
of the loss of a citizen of Manchester, though it lies so contiguous to 
Richmond as to be united by a bridge.

Page xi

It is not less worthy of observation, that there should have been so great 
a disproportion in the sexes of the sufferers. Alas! how fatal to the 
softer and weaker sex! Of the 70 lost, 50 were females! 46 of which were 
whites: only 18 were men!



AWFUL CALAMITY AT RICHMOND.

As narrated by the Editor of the American Standard, on Friday, the 27th 
December, 1811.

LAST night the playhouse in this city was crowded with an unusual 
audience. There could not have been less than 600 persons in the house. 
Just before the conclusion of the play, the scenery caught fire, and in a 
few minutes the whole building was wrapt in flames. It is already 
ascertained that 61 persons were devoured by that most terrific element. 
The Editor of this paper was in the house when the ever-to-be-remembered, 
deplorable accident occurred. He is informed that the scenery took fire in 
the back part of the house, by raising of a chandelier; that the boy, who 
was ordered by some of the players to raise it, stated that if he did so, 
the scenery would take fire, when he was commanded in a peremptory manner, 
to hoist it. The boy obeyed, and the fire was instantly communicated to 
the scenery. He gave the alarm in the rear of the stage, and requested 
some of the attendants to cut the cords by which the combustible materials 
were suspended. The person, whose duty it was to perform this business, 
became panic struck, and sought his own safety. This unfortunately 
happened at a time when one of the performers was playing near the 
orchestra, and the greatest part of the stage, with its horrid danger, was 
obscured from the audience by a curtain.

Page 14

The flames spread with almost the rapidity of lightning; and the fire 
falling from the ceiling upon the performer was the first notice which the 
people had of their danger. Even then, many supposed it to be a part of 
the play, and were for a little time restrained from flight by a cry from 
the stage that there was no danger. The performers and their attendants in 
vain endeavoured to tear down the scenery. The fire flashed in every part 
of the house with a rapidity, horrible and astonishing, and, alas! gushing 
tears and unspeakable anguish deprive me of utterance. No person, who was 
not present, can form any idea of this unexampled scene of human 
distress.--The Editor having none of his family with him, and being not 
far from the door, was among the first who escaped.

No words can express his horror, when on turning round, he discovered the 
whole building to be in flames. There was but one door for the greatest 
part of the audience to pass. Men, women, and children were pressing upon 
each other, while the flames were seizing upon those behind. The Editor 
went to the different windows, which were very high, and implored his 
fellow-creatures to save their lives by jumping out of them. Those nearest 
the windows, ignorant of their danger, were afraid to leap down, whilst 
those behind them, were seen catching on fire, and writhing in the 
greatest agonies of pain and distress. At length, those behind, urged by 
the pressing flames, pushed those who were nearest to the windows, and 
people of every description begun to fall, one upon another, some with 
their clothes on fire, some half roasted: Oh wretched me! Oh afflicted 
people!--Would to God I could have died a thousand deaths in any shape, 
could individual suffering have purchased the safety of my friends, my 
benefactors, of those whom I loved.**** The Editor with the assistance of 
others, caught several of those whom he had begged to leap from the 
windows. One lady jumped out when all her clothes were on fire. He tore 
them burning from her: stripped her of her last rags and protecting her 
nakedness with his

Page 15

coat, carried her from the fire. Fathers and mothers were deploring the 
loss of their children; children the loss of their parents. Husbands were 
heard to lament their lost companions. Wives were bemoaning their burnt 
husbands. The people were seen wringing their hands, beating their head 
and breasts, and those that had secured themselves, seemed to suffer 
greater torments than those who were enveloped in flames.

Oh distracting memory! Who, that saw this can think of it again, and yet 
retain his senses. Do I dream? No, No. Oh that it were but a dream. My 
God! Who that saw his friends and dearest connections devoured by fire, 
and laying in heaps at the doors, will not regret that he ever lived to 
see such a sight? Could savages have seen this memorable event, it would 
even soften their hearts.

A sad gloom pervades this place, and every countenance is cast down to the 
earth. The loss of an hundred thousand friends in the field of battle, 
could not touch the heart like this. Enough. Imagine what cannot be 
described. The most distant, and implacable enemy, and the most savage 
barbarians will condole our unhappy lot.

All of those who were in the pit escaped, and had cleared themselves from 
the house before those who were in the boxes could get down; and the door 
was for some time empty. Those from above were pushing each other down the 
steps, when the hindermost might have got out by leaping into the pit. A 
gentleman and lady, who otherwise would have perished, had their lives 
saved by being providentially thrown from the second boxes.--There would 
not have been the least difficulty in descending from the first boxes into 
the pit.

In addition to the list now given, it is believed that at least 60 others 
perished, whose names are not yet ascertained.

George W. Smith, governor, A. B. Venable, president of the bank, Benjamin 
Botts, Wife and Niece, Mrs. Tayloe Braxton, Mrs. Patterson, Mrs. Gallego, 
Miss Conyers, Lieut. J. Gibson, in attempting to save Miss Conyers, Mrs. 
E. Page, Miss Louisa Mayo, Mrs. William

Page 16

Cook, Miss Elvina Coutts, Mrs. John Lesley, Miss M. Nelson, Miss Page, 
William Brown, Miss Julia Hervey, Miss Whitlock, George Dixon, A. 
Marshall, (of Wythe) broke his neck in attempting to jump from a window, 
Miss Ann Craig, Miss Stevenson, (of Spottsylvania) Mrs. Gibson, Miss 
Arianna Hunter, Mrs. Mary Davis, Miss Gerard, Thomas Lecroix, Jane Wade, 
Mrs. Pickit, Mrs. Heron, Mrs. Laforest, and Niece, Jos. Jacobs, Miss 
Jacobs, Miss A. Bausman, Miss M. Marks, Edward Wenton, jun. two Miss 
Trouins, Mrs. Gerer, Miss Ellicott, Miss Patsey Griffin, Mrs. Moss, and 
daughter, Miss Littlepage, Miss Rebecca Cook, Mrs. Girardin, and two 
children, Miss Margaret Copeland, Miss Gwathmey, Miss Clay, daughter of M. 
Clay, Member of Congress, Miss Gatewood, Mrs. Thomas Wilson, Wm. 
Southgate, Mrs. Robert Greenhow, Mr. Convert, and child, Miss Green, Miss 
C. Raphael. 61 names.

At a meeting of the Commissioners appointed by the Common Hall to 
superintend the interment of the remains of their friends and fellow-
citizens, who unfortunately lost their lives in the conflagration of the 
Theatre, the following resolutions were adopted.--

1st. That the citizens of Richmond and Manchester, and the citizens at 
present residing in either of those places, be requested to assemble to-
morrow the 28th inst. at one o'clock, P. M. at the Baptist Meeting House, 
for the purpose of attending the funeral. 

2d. That the following be the order of procession:
CORPSES. 
CLERGY. 
MOURNERS AND LADIES. 
EXECUTIVE COUNCIL. 
DIRECTORS OF THE BANK. 
JUDICIARY. 
MEMBERS OF THE LEGISLATURE. 
COURT OF HUSTINGS. 
COMMON HALL. 
CITIZENS ON FOOT. 
CITIZENS ON HORSEBACK.
JOHN ADAMS, 
GAB. RALSTON, 
WM. HAY, Jun. 
JOHN G. GAMBLE.

Page 17

As narrated by the Editor of the Richmond Enquirer, on Saturday, the 28th 
December, 1811.

OVERWHELMING CALAMITY.

In the whole course of our existence we have never taken our pen under a 
deeper gloom than we feel at this moment. It falls to our lot to record 
one of the most distressing scenes which can happen in the whole circle of 
human affairs. The reader must excuse the incoherence of the narrative; 
there is scarcely a dry eye in this distracted city. Weep, my fellow-
citizens; for we have seen a night of wo, which scarce any eye had seen, 
or ear hath heard, and no tongue can adequately tell.

How can we describe the scene? No pen can paint it; no imagination can 
conceive it. A whole theatre wrapt in flames--a gay and animated assembly 
suddenly thrown on the very verge of the grave--many of them, oh! how 
many, precipitated in a moment into eternity--youth, and beauty, and old 
age and genius overwhelmed in one promiscuous ruin--Shrieks, groans, and 
human agony in every shape--this is the heart-rending scene that we are 
called upon to describe. We sink under the effort.--Reader! excuse our 
feelings, for they are the feelings of a whole city.

Let us collect our ideas as well as we can. On Thursday night a new play 
and a new after piece Were played for the benefit of Mr. Placide. Crowds 
swarmed to the theatre--it was the fullest house this season--there were 
not less than 600 present. The play went off--the pantomime began--the 
first Act was over. The whole scene was before us--and all around us was 
mirth and festivity. Oh God! what a horrible revolution did one minute 
produce! The curtain rose on the 2d Act of the Pantomime--the orchestra 
was in chorus; and Mr. West came to open the scene--when sparks of the 
fire began to fall on the back of the stage, and Mr. Robertson came out in 
unutterable distress, waved his hand to the ceiling, and uttered these 
appalling words--"The house is on fire." His

Page 18

hand was immediately stretched forth to the persons in the stage-box to 
help on the stage--and aid their retreat in that direction. This is all 
that we caught of the stage --the cry of fire, fire, passed with electric 
velocity through the house--every one flew from their seats to gain the 
lobbies and stairs.

The scene baffles all description.--The most heart-piercing cries pervaded 
the house. "Save me, save me." Wives asking for their husbands, females 
and children shrieking while the gathering element came rolling on its 
curling flames and columns of smoke--threatening to devour every human 
being in the building. Many were trod under foot--several were thrown back 
from the windows which they were struggling to leap. The stairways were 
immediately blocked up--the throng was so great that many were raised 
several feet over the heads of the rest--the smoke threatened an instant 
suffocation. We cannot dwell on this picture We saw--we felt it--like 
others, we gave up ourselves for lost--We cannot depict it. Many leaped 
from the windows of the first story, and were saved--children and females 
and men of all descriptions were seen to precipitate themselves on the 
ground below, most of these escaped; though several of them with broken 
legs, and thighs, and hideous contusions. Most, if not all who were in the 
pit escaped. Mr. Taylor, the last of the musicians who quitted the 
orchestra, finding his retreat by the back way cut off, leapt into the 
pit, whence he entered the semicircle avenue which leads to the door of 
the Theatre, and found it nearly empty. He was the last that escaped from 
the pit! how melancholy, that many who were in the boxes did not also jump 
into the pit and fly in the same direction. But those who were in the 
boxes, above and below, pushed for the lobbies--many, as has been said, 
escaped through the windows--but the most of them had no other resource 
than to descend the stairs; many escaped that way--but so great was the 
pressure that they retarded each other; until the devouring element 
approached to sweep them into eternity.--Several who even emerged from the

Page 19

building were so much scorched that they have since perished--some even 
jumped from the second window--some others have been dreadfully burnt.

The fire flew with a rapidity, almost beyond example. Within 10 minutes 
after it caught, the whole house was wrapt in flames. The coloured people 
in the gallery, most of them escaped through the stairs cut off from the 
house--some have no doubt fallen victims. The pit and boxes had but one 
common avenue, through which the whole crowd escaped, save those only who 
leaped through the windows.

But the scene which ensued, it is impossible to paint. Women with 
dishevelled hair--fathers and mothers shrieking out for their children--
husbands for their wives --brothers for their sisters--filled the whole 
area on the outside of the building. A few, who escaped, plunged again 
into the flames to save some dear object of their regard. The Governor 
perhaps shared this melancholy fate. Others were frantic and would have 
rushed to destruction, but for the hand of a friend. The bells tolled. 
Almost the whole town rushed to the fatal spot.

The flame must have caught to the scenery from some light behind--
Robertson saw it, when it was no longer than his arm--Young saw it on the 
roof, when it first burst through. Every article of the theatre was 
consumed; as well as the dwelling house next to it.--But what is wealth in 
comparison to the many valuable lives which have gone forever? The whole 
town is shrouded in wo. Heads of families extinguished forever--many and 
many is the house in which a chasm has been made that can never be filled 
up.--We cannot dwell on this picture--we must drop the pen.--When we have 
time to collect a more particular account than is published, we shall give 
it hereafter. Oh miserable night of unutterable wo!!

Page 20

As narrated in a letter to M. Clay, Esq, a Representative from Virginia, 
dated December 27, 1811.

I have a tale of horror to tell; prepare to hear of the most awful 
calamity that ever plunged a whole city into affliction. Yes, all Richmond 
is in tears: children have lost their parents, parents have lost their 
children. Yesterday a beloved daughter gladdened my heart with her 
innocent smiles; to-day she is in Heaven! God gave her to me, and God--
yes, it has pleased Almighty God to take her from me. O! sir, feel for me, 
and not for me only; arm yourself with fortitude, whilst I discharge the 
mournful duty of telling you, that you have to feel also for yourself. 
Yes, for it must be told, you also were the father of an amiable daughter, 
now, like my beloved child, gone to join her mother in Heaven.

How can words represent what one night, one hour of unutterable horror, 
has done to overwhelm a hundred families with grief and despair. No, sir, 
impossible. My eyes beheld last night what no tongue, no pen can describe--
horrors that language has no terms to represent.

Last night we were all at the theatre; every family in Richmond, or, at 
least, a very large proportion of them, was there--the house was 
uncommonly full--when, dreadful to relate, the scenery took fire, spread 
rapidly above, ascending in volumes of flame and smoke into the upper part 
of the building, whence a moment after it descended to force a passage 
through the pit and boxes. In two minutes the whole audience were 
enveloped in hot, scorching smoke and flame. The lights were all 
extinguished by the black and smothering vapour; cries, shrieks, 
confusion, and despair, succeeded.

O moment of inexpressible horror! Nothing I can say, can paint the awful, 
shocking, maddening scene. The images of both my dear children were before 
me, but I was removed by an impassable crowd from the dear sufferers. The 
youngest (with gratitude to Heaven I write it), sprang towards the voice 
of her papa,

Page 21

reached my assisting hand, and was extricated from the overwhelming mass 
that soon choked the passage by the stairs: but no efforts could avail me 
to reach, or even gain sight of the other; and my dear, dear Margaret, and 
your sweet Mary, with her companions, Miss Gwathmey and Miss Gatewood, 
passed together and at once, into a happier world. Judge my feelings by 
your own, when I found neither they nor my beloved sister appeared upon 
the stairs. First one, and then another, and another, I helped down; 
hoping every moment to seize the hand of my dear child--but no, no, I was 
not destined to have that happiness. O to see so, so many amiable helpless 
females trying to stretch to me their imploring hands, crying, "save me, 
sir; oh, sir, save me, save me!" Oh God, eternity cannot banish that 
spectacle of horror from my recollection. Some friendly unknown hand 
dragged me from the scene of flames and death--and on gaining the open 
air, to my infinite consolation, I found my sister had thrown herself from 
the upper window and was saved--yes, thanks be to God, saved where fifty 
others, in a similar attempt, broke their necks, or were crushed to death 
by those who fell on them from the same height.

Oh, sir, you can have no idea of the general consternation--the universal 
grief that pervades this city--but why do I speak of that? I scarcely know 
what I write to you. Farewell. In haste and in deep affliction.


As narrated by the Editor of the Richmond Enquirer, on Tuesday, December 
31st, 1811.

WE cannot paint the details of the scene on Thursday night--No description 
can do justice to its horrors--and there were so few persons so cool and 
self-collected as to accurately paint any part of the mass of woes which 
fell in a moment upon us. Some scenes are so fraught with horror, that a 
delicate pencil would have to skip

Page 22

them--Besides, time enough has not been had to bring together an accurate 
group of woes.

It is painful to touch upon the catastrophe of those who have gone 
forever. Their ashes are in the grave--but their memories are entombed in 
our hearts.

The Generous and worthy Smith, who but a few days since was crowned with 
one of the highest honours which Virginia can bestow, is snatched from his 
country, his distracted family, his children and his friends!! It is not 
certainly known whether he had effected his escape from the building and 
rushed again into the flames to save his child!--There is a confusion in 
the story, and perhaps it is as well if it never were cleared up.

Abraham B. Venable, the President of the bank of Virginia; a man who has 
filled our public stations with very high repute; who has been in the 
House of Representatives and in the Senate of the United States during the 
most interesting periods--he too is gone! He has left no wife or children; 
but a long train of relatives and friends to weep his loss.--He was in the 
box with ladies; he begged them not to be precipitate or impatient; but 
was at length driven towards a window in the lobby, with a crowd of 
others. The suffocating smoke came rolling on. Mr. V. and some who were 
with him were thrown down. Mr. Noland fell towards the window and was 
saved; Mr. V. fell the other way and perished in the smoke!

Many doubtless perished in the same way. The volume of smoke, could not at 
first escape through the roof, was bent downwards, black, dense almost 
saturated with oily vapours. Many were suffocated by it, who might have 
had strength enough to leap the windows.--Several were saved by the fresh 
air which they inhaled at the windows--or even at a cranny.

Poor Botts! a man of astonishing attainments at the bar, has perished with 
his wife and her niece--he fell perhaps a victim to his hopes. He thought 
it more prudent to sit still with his wife, while the crowd passed by; but 
her sister-in-law Mrs. Page, yielding to the sympathetic impulse of her 
fears, rushed forward and is saved.

Page 23

What a seat has death set upon his family! At one fell swoop, five 
helpless children are converted into Orphans.

How heavily has the hand of death fallen upon the Harvies! Poor mourners, 
deeply indeed have ye drunk of the cup of affliction. Within five short 
years ye had numbered among the dead, the venerable John Harvie, the 
distinguished Lewis Harvie, the amiable Mrs. McCraw, the interesting 
little boy, of Dr. Brokenbrough. But by one blow, the distressed mother, 
Mrs. Harvie, has lost her noble and high-souled daughter, Juliana, her 
excellent son E. J. Harvie, and that sweet little girl Mary Whitlock, her 
beloved Grand-daughter!!! Reader, conceive if you can, what you never, can 
have felt.

Lieut. James Gibbon, of the United States Navy, has gone with the rest! 
Young as he was, he had tasted of the cup of affliction. He was taken 
captive in the Philadelphia, and immured in the prisons of Tripoli.--On 
this fatal night, he and Mr. John Lynch were in the same box with Mrs. 
Gallego, Miss Conyers, Mr. Venable and others--when the alarm was first 
given, they endeavoured to quiet the apprehensions of the ladies, but when 
the front scene was in flames, they reached over for Miss Conyers who had 
sunk motionless below--they took her over; they held her between them, in 
a state of insensibility, her head falling over Mr. Lynch's left arm. In 
this manner they proceeded towards the head of the stairs, when Gibbon 
said "Lynch, leave Sally to me, I am strong enough to carry her: she is 
light and you can save somebody else." Mr. L. replied, "God bless you 
Gibbon, there is the stair," and then turned round to seek some of the 
other ladies. Poor Gibbon and his lovely and interesting companion, sunk 
together.

We must drop this recital.--We have already stated the deaths of Mrs. 
Gerardin and her sweet boy--of Mrs. Gibson, whose husband is perhaps now 
on his way from Europe; what a blow upon his heart!--of the venerable Mrs. 
Page; and Mrs. Lesslie; of the lovely Nancy Green, the daughter of Mr. 
Green, the Manager; of the amiable Mrs. Robert Greenhow. The particulars 
of most

Page 24

of their fates are wrapt in oblivion. Their ashes are in the grave.

These perished amid the flames--but Mrs. Patterson and Mr. Wm. Brown were 
overwhelmed by the crowd.

Let us change the scene.--It is a far more grateful task to describe the 
fate of those who have, as it were, miraculously escaped. It is some 
relief to our feeling, to contemplate those who seem again to have "re-
visited the realms of light." It is almost as if the grave had given them 
up again from it jaws.--We are sorry, indeed, that our limits do not 
permit us to give any but hasty snatches and sketches of events.

Mr. John G. Jackson was overcome by the suffocating smoke and fell 
senseless. His last recollection was that his feet were descending: but 
whether the floor or stairway were broken or he had reached the descent, 
he was not conscious--but insensibly he descended to the level of the pit 
were a strong current of fresh air revived him, as he lay amongst a heap 
of prostrate persons. He struggled to rise and found himself on his feet 
with a lady clinging to him and beseeching him to save her. With 
difficulty he found the door, not being acquainted with the house, but at 
last he emerged with the lady, when the fire was pouring though the front 
windows, and ere they had advanced far, the roof tumbled in.

Mr. M. W. Hancock carried with him to the play, his niece, the two Miss 
Herons and three boys. When the alarm was given, he did all in his power 
to save his proteges--but was at last separated from them all. The flames 
were approaching with a degree of fury and rapidity that was perhaps never 
exceeded. Hitherto the scene had been all bustle, confusion and 
consternation; it now changed to one of awful horror and desperation that 
beggars all description. He attempted to reach the centre window in the 
lobby of the lower boxes. He at last succeeded in mounting on the heads of 
the crowd betwixt him and the window, and finally reached it, surrounded 
by the unavailing and afflicting cries of those suffocating around him. He 
stepped within the window

Page 25

and with difficulty raised the lower sash--he thrust his feet out, when 
the sash was suddenly pressed down, and caught his feet betwixt it and the 
sill. He extricated one foot but could not the other, until those behind 
him who had sufficient strength left to mount over him and the lower sash 
which kept him down, did so. He found himself so far gone from suffocation 
that he gave himself up as lost--the flames however rushed over his head 
and the introduction of fresh air at the bottom of the window gave him new 
life. Those behind him being no longer able to keep him down, he with a 
last effort raised the sash, extricated his foot and jumped out.--It gives 
us sincere pleasure to add, that the three boys and girls whom he carried 
with him have all escaped with their lives.

Mr. John Lynch was the only person who passed the window after Mr. 
Hancock. After he had left poor Gibbon, he met with a variety of horrid 
adventures. All was utter darkness in the Lobby, and suffocation 
threatened. It was an awful crisis--and but that one of the windows was 
burst open and let in fresh air, he thinks all in the lobby must have 
perished. At length he reached the window, where he found a gentleman 
fixed fast, whom he since believes to have been Mr. Hancock. After an 
awful lapse, the flames were rushing on in all directions, his hair caught 
fire, hope deserted him; he was struck with horror at the idea of being 
burnt alive. He rushed towards the window, waving his hands as quick as 
possible over his head and clothes. This was a dreadful moment; he saw 
many drop down on each side of him suffocated--the window was now free, 
and he was scarcely on the bottom of it when he heard an awful crash 
behind him. He threw himself out and Providence preserved him.

Mr. Robert Greenhow precipitated himself down the stairs over fire-brands 
and bodies with his fine son in his arms--and was saved.

Mr. Head Lynch made a wonderful escape with his child. His lady was saved 
by a strong man's pulling her by the hair of the head over the bodies in 
the stair-way.

Page 26

Mr. Stetson fell in the lobby with his head to the wall --but for a crack 
which his mouth accidentally caught, he would have died for want of air--
the fresh air that streamed, through it revived him enough to lift his 
head to the window--a fresh draught of it revived him and he jumped out.

Mr. Gordon was saved in a state of insensibility. His Lady was saved by 
jumping through a window and clinging to a man, and her little daughter by 
hanging to her mantle. They had three children there, and not one of them 
was lost.

Several individuals were active in rescuing the lives of their fellow-
creatures. Dr. McCaw let down several from the window--Mr. Doyle, Mr. 
Grant and others, who were out, received many as they were let down or 
jumped down.

A letter from Richmond, addressed to a gentleman in this city states, that 
the unclaimed remains of upwards of fifty of the unfortunate persons, who 
perished in the fire, were deposited in two large boxes, and buried in the 
Pit of the Theatre. The Citizens have purchased the lot of ground on which 
the Theatre stood, for the purpose of erecting a CHURCH in its place; and 
more than two thousand dollars have already been subscribed for that pious 
purpose. The writer adds, that among the number who so awfully perished, 
there were not six of the poorer class of people.

A letter addressed to Mr. Hewes, Editor of the Baltimore Federal Gazette, 
says, that "the number of persons lost is not yet ascertained, but 
supposed to be nearly two hundred, from the number of sculls taken out of 
the building."

Another letter contains the following occurrence:--One gentleman in the 
boxes escaped almost miraculously: He was sitting with two small girls and 
a boy, when the fire was discovered. The boy leaped from the window and 
escaped unhurt. The gentleman took the

Page 27

two girls, one under each arm, resolved on exertions, and flew with them 
to the stair-case, jamming them between his breast and the people before 
him, striving to keep himself straight, but in vain; the pressure from 
behind, and those leaping over head, overpowered him. He was bent down 
with the children in his arm; and from that time he knew nothing of what 
passed till several hours afterwards, he came to his senses, and found 
himself in his own bed. He must have been wedged up so as to be forced 
along unconsciously by the mass, as he was picked Up at some distance from 
the play-house. The children escaped with but little hurt. The wife of 
this gentleman, who was in another part of the house, saved herself by 
leaping out of a window, in company with a young lady, who perished in the 
attempt.

The lady who was rescued by the Editor of the Amemerican Standard, and 
whom he covered with his great coat, was Miss Harvey; who died with her 
burns on Friday.

Richmond, December 31st, 1811.


WHAT HAPPENED AT THE FIRE.

At about half past ten I met with a gentleman in the lobby, who like 
myself was not much interested with the Pantomime; and after some 
desultory conversation we agreed to walk to his house, which is convenient 
to the Theatre; we had not gone thirty perches, when we heard a confused 
noise; on looking around, we perceived the Theatre, for the most part 
enveloped in flames; he having a wife and son, (whom he lost) with many 
more relatives within, flew to their assistance. I observing a number of 
female acquaintances at the windows, took my stand under one, and was 
fortunate enough to rescue them all from destruction; though the clothes 
of many of them were in flames. The last I rescued being a weighty lady, 
although frequently called to particularly, fell on me unawares, while I 
held another lady in my

Page 28

arms, the force so stunned me, that I lay some time insensible: I am glad 
to hear that neither of the ladies are much injured; after I arose, I 
looked up, but saw no person at the window; the flames had then burst 
through, and the shrieks and cries had ceased. I then, with what gentlemen 
I could meet with, who were not frantic from their losses, proceeded to 
help the helpless; some ladies of the first rank were found lying so 
discoloured by fire and smoke, as not to be known; deaf to the cries of 
the bereaved, we attended to, and carried off all who were unable to 
assist themselves, one of whom, Dr. M'Caw, after having saved the lives of 
numbers by throwing himself out of a window, has disabled himself. Our 
worthy governor too in a humane attempt lost his life. I will not 
undertake to name the many worthy characters who have perished in the 
flames, the progress of which was so rapid, and the ties between husband 
and wife, parent and child, sister and brothers, friend and friend so 
strong; that before any plan of salvation could be formed, all was lost; 
the time intervening between the first appearance of fire and the last 
person saved was not more than six minutes. Upon examining the 
neighbouring houses, it was dreadful to behold the half burned bodies of 
of the first characters in Virginia, who now lie subject to medical 
treatment; but I know of none that are not thought to be recoverable. It 
is a mistake in "The American Standard," that Mrs. Picket is dead; it is 
also a mistake, that Mr. Girardin lost two children. God knows he lost 
enough, in losing an amiable wife, and a son on whom he doated. The number 
lost cannot yet be ascertained.

A CITIZEN.


A letter from a friend of the Editor of the Petersburg Intelligencer, who 
had lost his venerable mother in the conflagration at Richmond, thus 
writes:

"Last night--last wretched night--our theatre was crouded beyond what the 
season had witnessed. In the midst of the performance, the scenery took 
fire, and with

Page 29

the most inconceivable rapidity communicated to the whole interior of the 
building; and, G--! what havock ensued! Our houses are all hospitals; our 
streets lined with parents lamenting the loss of children--children 
shrieking for parents just perished--wives lamenting lost husbands, and 
husbands wives!--In short the picture of gloomy wo is heightened beyond 
any conception of fancy. Can you conceive our situation?--I cannot 
describe it. Sixty or seventy persons, perhaps an hundred, totally and 
literally consumed!--and the number of those wounded is inconceivable.--In 
one wretched group, eight mothers of families, who were forced into a 
corner by the croud--their clothes on fire they clung franticly together; 
and thus embracing, were seen to sink into eternity!!!--Can I add to the 
picture?--It fades from my view, and leaves me almost unconscious of 
existence."


AN ORDINANCE,
Concerning the conflagration of the Theatre, in the city of Richmond.

(Passed at 11 o'clock, December 27th, 1811.)

Whereas, the fire which took place in the Theatre, on the 26th instant, 
has brought upon our calamity unknown in the annals of our country, from a 
similar cause, depriving society of many of its most esteemed and valuable 
members, and inflicting upon the survivors, pangs the most poignant and 
afflicting; and the Common Hall participating in those feelings, and being 
desirous of manifesting their respect for the remains which have been 
preserved from the conflagration, and to sooth and allay as much as in 
them lies, the grief of the friends and relations of the deceased:

Be it therefore ordained by the President and Common Council of the City 
of Richmond, in Common Hall assembled: And it is hereby ordained by the 
authority of the same; that Doctor Adams, Mr. W. Hay, Mr.

Page 30

Ralston, and Mr. Gamble, be, and they are hereby authorised and empowered 
to cause to be collected and deposited in such urns, coffins, or other 
suitable inclosures, as they may approve, all the remains of persons, who 
have suffered, which shall not be claimed by the relatives, and cause the 
same to be removed to the public burying ground, with all proper respect 
and solemnity, giving to the citizens of Richmond and Town of Manchester, 
notice of the time of such interment, and providing the necessary 
refreshments; and they shall have further authority to cause to be erected 
over such remains, such tomb or tombs, as they may approve, with such 
inscriptions as to them may appear best calculated to record the 
melancholy and afflicting event.

And be it further ordained by the authority of the same, that the 
constable of this city, be authorised to communicate to the citizens, that 
it is earnestly recommended that they will abstain from all business, 
keeping their shops, stores, compting houses, and offices shut for forty-
eight hours from the passing of this ordinance.

And be it further ordained, that no person or persons shall be permitted 
for and during the term of four months from the passage hereof, to exhibit 
any public show or spectacle, or open any public dancing assembly within 
this city, under the penalty of six dollars and sixty-six cents for every 
hour the same shall be exhibited.

The commissioners appointed by this ordinance, shall have authority to 
draw upon the chamberlain for the amount of any expense by them incurred 
in executing the same.

Copy.   N. SHEPPARD, C. C. H.


At a very numerous meeting of the citizens of Richmond, Manchester, and 
others convened at the Capitol, on Friday, the 27th instant. The mayor of 
this city in the chair--the following preamble and resolutions were moved 
and unanimously adopted:

Page 31

This city having been visited by a calamity the most distressing with 
which society can be afflicted, which has deprived us of many of our most 
valuable citizens, pervading every family and rendering our whole town one 
deep and gloomy scene of wo; the extent of which at this time cannot be 
accurately ascertained,

Resolved, Therefore, that three proper persons in each ward, be appointed 
to go round and procure the most accurate information of the names and 
numbers of such of our citizens and others, who have fallen a sacrifice by 
the burning of the theatre last evening; and that some persons in 
Manchester be requested to perform the same service in that town; and that 
they make report thereof to the Mayor.

And the following persons were appointed, viz. in Jefferson ward, William 
Bowlett, Joseph A. Myers, and Samuel Pleasants--in Madison ward, Jedediah 
Allen, Robert McKiln, and Robert Pollard--in Monroe ward, Thomas Taylor, 
Anderson Barrett, and Thomas Rutherford--and in Manchester, William 
Fenwick, Mr. Clark, and Mr. A. Freeland.

Resolved, That it be recommended to the citizens of Richmond, to observe 
Wednesday next, as a day of humiliation and prayer, in consequence of the 
late melancholy event, and to suspend on that day their usual occupations.

Resolved, That the committee appointed by the Common Hall, to collect the 
remains of the deceased, be also requested to regulate the time and order 
of the funeral procession.

Resolved, That the members of the Legislature, the Executive and the 
Judiciary branches be respectfully requested to attend this melancholy 
occasion.

Resolved, That the Reverend Mr. John Buchanan and Mr. Blair, be requested 
to prepare a funeral sermon for the occasion, to be delivered by one of 
them on Wednesday next in the Church on Richmond hill.

Resolved, That the citizens of Richmond be requested

Page 32

to wear crape for one month in token of the deep sense universally 
entertained of this severe visitation.

Resolved, That the inhabitants of this city and town of Manchester, be 
respectfully requested, and such strangers as may wish to join in this 
melancholy occasion, be most cheerfully permitted to contribute towards 
the monument to be erected over the deceased, in aid of the public funds 
to be contributed by this corporation.

Resolved, That a committee consisting of the following gentlemen, viz. 
General John Marshall, Thomas Taylor, Joseph Marx, William Fenwick, and 
Benjamin Hatcher, be appointed to receive contributions, and to make such 
arrangements in concert with a committee from the Common Hall, as may be 
necessary for erecting the monument designated by an ordinance passed this 
day.

Resolved, That although this meeting have no reasons whatever to believe 
that this melancholy catastrophe has been produced by design, a committee 
consisting of Thomas Ritchie, William Marshall, and Samuel G. Adams, be 
appointed to enquire into its causes, for the purpose of submitting this 
statement for the information of the world.

And then the meeting adjourned.

BENJ. TATE, Mayor.


REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE OF INVESTIGATION.

We the Committee, appointed by our Fellow-Citizens "to enquire into the 
causes of the melancholy catastrophe" which took place in this city on 
Thursday night last; a catastrophe, which has spread a gloom over a whole 
city, and filled every eye with tears; have given to this melancholy duty 
all the attention in our power.--We feel it due to ourselves; it was due 
to our weeping fellow-citizens; it was due to the world to collect all the 
lights which might serve to lucidate an event whose effects

Page 33

are so deeply written on our hearts.--We have seen every person who was 
behind the scenes, that was best able to assist our enquiries--we have 
heard their statements, and after sifting them as accurately as possible, 
beg leave to submit the following report to our afflicted citizens:

On the night of Thursday last, the Pantomime of "The Bleeding Nun, or, 
Agnes and Raymond" came on for representation after the Play was over. In 
the first Act, amongst other scenes, was the scene of the Cottage of 
Baptist the Robber, which was illuminated by a chandelier apparently 
hanging from the ceiling. When the curtain fell on the first Act, and 
before it rose on the Second, this chandelier was lifted from its position 
among the scenery above. It was fixed with 2 wicks to it; one only of them 
had been lit; yet when it was lifted above, this fatal lamp was not 
extinguished. Here the first link in the chain of our disasters. The man 
who raised it, does not pretend to deny it--but pleads that he did so in 
consequence of an order from some person, whom he supposed authorised to 
direct him. That person was behind him; the voice had reached, him, 
without his seeing the person, and he does not pretend positively to 
recognise him. We have not the most distant idea that there was the 
slightest mischievous intention in the order or in the act--it was 
inattention--it was the grossest negligence. The lifter of the lamps says 
that he was aware of the danger, and remonstrated against the act; yet 
yielded with too fatal a facility to the reiterated orders of a person 
whom he saw not, but supposed authorized to direct him. We cast not the 
slightest imputations upon the Managers or any of the regular Comedians of 
the stage--their positions at the moment as well as other circumstances, 
forbid the idea, that the order ever passed their lips; yet the act was 
done. The lighted lamp was lifted--the torch of destruction gleamed at the 
top of the stage.

Mr. Rice (the Property-man of the Theatre) says, that he saw the scene was 
over in which the lamp was used; he saw the lamp after it was lifted up; 
he was aware of

Page 34

the danger of its remaining in that position; and spoke to one of the 
carpenters, three times repeatedly, "Lower that lamp and blow it out." He 
did not see it put out; for he was drawn by his business to another part 
of the stage.

Mr. West declares he was passing by to commence the 2nd Act of the 
Pantomime, and saw the lamp up and heard Rice giving directions to the 
Carpenter to extinguish it.

Mr. Cook (the regular carpenter of the Theatre) declares that he saw the 
carpenter, alluded to above, attempting to let down the lamp immediately 
after the order to let it down had been given; that he has no doubt this 
attempt was made in consequence of the order; that he saw the cords tangle 
and the lamp to oscillate several inches from its perpendicular position. 
The chandelier above was moved by two cords which worked over two pulleys, 
inserted in a collar-beam of the roof; and the straight line from the beam 
to the lamp was, Mr. Cook thinks, about 14 or 15 feet. Thus some idea may 
be had of the degree of oscillation.

Mr. Anderson (one of the performers of the Theatre) says, that he had 
remarked, even before the representation, how unskilfully the chandelier 
had played; and that an attempt to move it had caused it to ride 
circularly round.

Mr. Yore (another of the workmen of the machinery,) most conclusively 
confirms this statement. He saw, that in the attempt to lower the lamp, as 
it was perched among the scenery, the carpenter had failed in his effort; 
that he then jerked it and jostled it; that it was thus swerved from its 
perpendicular attitude, and brought into contact with the lower part of 
one of the front scenes. The scene took fire; the flame rose, and tapering 
above it to a point, must have reached the roof, which was elevated 6 or 7 
feet only above the top of the scene.

We were assured, that there was not one transparent scene hanging; that 
is, a scene coated with varnish and extremely combustible--that there was 
but one paper

Page 35

scene hanging; which Mr. Utt the prompter declares, was removed 6 or 8 
feet behind the lamp. Thirty-five scenes were at that moment hanging, 
exclusive of the flies or narrow borders which represent the skies, roofs, 
&c.--and of these, 34 were canvass paintings; which, though not extremely 
combustible on the painted side, are on the other so well covered with the 
fibres of the hemp as to catch the flame.

Efforts were made to extinguish the flame. Mr. Cook, the carpenter, 
ascended into the carpenter's gallery; but in vain. He did succeed in 
letting down some of the scenes upon the floor, under an idea that this 
was the surest means of extinguishing the flame; but he could not 
distinguish the cords of the scene, that was then on fire. The roof soon 
caught, and the scene of danger compelled him to fly for his life.

The committee must now be under the necessity of drawing the attention of 
our fellow-citizens, to the events which took place in front of the 
curtain. Mr. West states, that immediately on his entering the stage to go 
on with his part, he heard some bustle behind the scenes which he 
conceived to be a mere fracas--the cry of "fire" then saluted his ears, 
which gave him no serious apprehensions, as he knew that little accidents 
of this description had often taken place; that he heard some voices 
exclaim "don't be alarmed," which exclamation he repeated through a 
solicitude to prevent hurry and confusion--that he had not at that moment 
seen any flakes of fire fall behind the scene; but seeing them at length 
falling from the roof, he retired behind the scene and found the whole 
stage enveloped in flames; that he attempted to pull down some of the 
hanging pieces; when finding it unavailing, he attempted to make good his 
own retreat.

Mr. Robertson, who was the only performer besides, that came before the 
audience, assured the committee, that at the moment when he first 
discovered the flame, it was no longer than his handkerchief; that he 
repaired immediately to the stage, as near the orchestra as he could come; 
"there he conveyed to the audience, not wishin

Page 36

to alarm them, by gesticulation to leave the house--that in the act of 
doing that, he discovered the flames moving rapidly, and then he 
exclaimed, "the house (or Theatre) is on fire;" that he went directly to 
the stage-box where some 3 or 4 ladies were sitting, entreating them to 
jump into his arms--that he could save them by conveying them through the 
private stage-door--and that he still intreated, until he found it 
necessary to make his own escape--that, his own retreat by the private 
door was intercepted by the flames--that he found it necessary to leap 
into the stage-box, and join the general crowd in the lobby--that he 
gained one of the front windows, assisted in passing out some 10 or 12 
females, but at last found it necessary to throw himself from the window."

This narrative is due to the exertions of a gentleman, who first sounded 
the alarm--and to whom there are a few who have not done that justice 
which he deserves.--Let us now return to the transmission of the fire--
where the point of flame reached the roof. The roof was unfortunately not 
plaistered and sealed--there was a sheathing of plank, pine plank we are 
told, nailed over the rafters; and over these, the shingles. The rosin of 
the pine had perhaps oozed out of the plank, though the heat of our 
summer's sun, stood in drops upon it. Yet however this may have been, no 
sooner did the spire of the flame reach the roof than it caught. The fire 
spread with a rapidity through this combustible material, unparalleled, 
certainly never equalled by any of the too numerous fires which have 
desolated our city. In 4 or 5 minutes at least, the whole roof was one 
sheet of flame--it burst through the bulls-eye in front--it sought the 
windows where the rarefied vapour sought its passage; fed by the vast 
column of air in the hollows of a Theatre, fed by the inflammable pannels 
and pillars of the boxes, by the done of the pit, by the canvass ceiling 
of the lower boxes, until its suffocated victims in the front were wrapt 
in its devouring flame or pressed to death under the smouldering ruins of 
the building.

Here might we pause in our melancholy task. We

Page 37

have traced the conflagration to the fatal lamp, lifted as it was lit, 
then jirked and jostled, out of its perpendicular position to the scenery--
to the roof; until every thing was enveloped in its fury. But there is one 
part of the subject which, though it does not fall strictly within the 
letter of the Resolution, or perhaps the line of our duty, is yet too 
interesting to be passed over. Why, this fatality? Why have so many 
victims perished on this melancholy occasion? It cannot be said, that it 
was the combustibility of the building and the rapidity of the fire, great 
as they undoubtedly were, which altogether produced this mortality of the 
species--for we cannot believe, if large vomitories had been erected for 
the passage of the crowd; if there had been doors enough to admit them, 
that more than one-tenth of an audience should have perished on the 
occasion.

It was in the opinion of the committee that this ill construction of the 
Theatre itself, was principally its cause. How numerous were the occasions 
on which it had long before been said, as the crowd was slowly retiring at 
the end of a play, "Suppose the house were on fire, what should We do?" 
Yet we slept with too fatal security over the evil--we trusted and we are 
ruined. New doors were not opened; the winding stair-case was not 
straitened; the access to the avenues of the Theatre was not enlarged.

Even the relics of our fellow-citizens as they lay, pointed out the causes 
of this fatality. They were found strewed in heaps at the foot of the 
narrow stair-case which led from the boxes--and though with less 
profusion, on the ground immediately under the lobby of the boxes above, 
from which lobby their retreat down the stairs had been intercepted by the 
crowd which choaked them up. On that fatal night, there were in the pit 
and boxes 518 dollar tickets and 80 children--exclusive of 50 persons who 
were in the galleries. Of these, 598 persons had to pass through one 
common avenue; and although all the people in the pit may have escaped, 
except a few who may have jumped into the boxes, yet the crowd in the 
lower and upper boxes, had

Page 38

had no other resource than to press through a narrow angular stair-case, 
or to leap the windows. The committee, not being particularly conversant 
with the construction of theatres, have requested Mr. Twaits, one of the 
managers of this theatre, to furnish us with his ideas on the subject. He 
has favoured us with a statement, which we leg leave to incorporate with 
our report, in the words following, to wit:

"By the request of the committee of enquiry into the cause of the late 
dreadful calamity at the theatre on the night of the 26th instant, I 
assert, that the loss of so many valuable lives, and the distress which is 
felt by all on the occasion, is wholly attributable to the construction of 
the late theatre and its materials.

"In all Theatres, that I have seen, except the late one, there have been 
three distinct and separate doors of entrance--one to the boxes, one to 
the pit, and one to the gallery. The late Drury Lane Theatre had in the 
centre of each side a spacious hall, with broad and straight stair-cases, 
which terminated in the lobbies of the boxes; three entrances to the pit, 
one in the front and one on each side; and four entrances to two 
galleries, two on each side. These avenues were firm and commodious, and 
in their construction presented every facility for escape, when any danger 
assailed the audience. Miserable reverse! in the late Richmond Theatre, 
but one entrance to the boxes and pit, and that so narrow, that two 
persons could scarcely pass at the same time--the way then lying through a 
gloomy passage to a narrow winding stair-case, which terminated in as 
narrow a lobby.--It is, therefore, evident, that this ever to be lamented 
loss, which has at once deprived your city of some of its brightest 
ornaments, and desolated many families, is wholly attributable to the mal-
construction of the late Theatre, which certainly offered no means of 
speedy escape. The rapidity of the conflagration must have been caused by 
the unfinished state of the building, there being no plaistered ceiling or 
wall to prevent the communication of flame."

Page 39

The committee cannot close their melancholy labours without expressing one 
hope, that irreparable as our own calamities have been, we may not have 
suffered altogether in vain; that our own misfortunes may serve as beacons 
to the rest of our countrymen, and that no Theatres should be permitted to 
be opened in the other cities of the United States, until every facility 
has been procured for the escape of the audience.

The committee appointed by the meeting of the citizens of Richmond this 
day, to ascertain the number of the unfortunate persons who perished by 
the burning of the Theatre on Thursday evening last, have according to 
order proceeded in the discharge of that melancholy duty, and lament 
exceedingly that they have discovered the loss greatly to exceed the 
number which was at first apprehended, and beg leave to submit the 
following list of those who are dead and missing as the most accurate 
which they have been enabled to discover.

A list of Sixty-three Dead and Missing.

Jefferson Ward.--Geo. W. Smith, Gov. Sophia Trouin, Cecilia Trouin, Joseph 
Jacobs, Elizabeth Jacobs, his daughter, Cyprian Marks, wife of Mordecai 
Marks, Charlotte Raphael, daughter of Solomon Raphael, Adeline Bausman, 
Ann Craig, daughter of Mrs. Adam Craig,--Nuttal a carpenter, Pleasant a 
mulatto woman belonging to Mr. Wm. Rose, Nancy Patterson, woman of colour 
supposed to have perished.

Madison Ward.--Abraham B. Venable, President of the Bank, William 
Southgate, son of Wright, Benjamin Botts, and wife, Arianna Hunter, Mary 
Whitlock, Juliana Harvey, Mrs. Heron, Mrs. Girardin and child, Mrs. Robert 
Greenhow, Mrs. Moss, Barack Judah's child, Mrs. Lesslie, Edward Wanton, a 
youth, George Dixon, a youth, Wm. Brown, Mrs. Patterson, John Welch, a

Page 40

stranger, Nephew to Sir A. Pigot, late from England, Margaret Copland, 
Margaret Anderson, Sally Gatewood, Mary Clay, Lucy Gawthmey, Louisa Mayo, 
Mrs. Gerard, Mrs. Gibson, Miss Green, Mary Davis, Thomas Frazier, a youth, 
Jane Wade a young women, Mrs. Wm. Cook and daughter, Elizabeth Stevenson, 
Mrs. Convert and child, Patsey Griffin, Fanny Goff, a woman of colour, 
Betsey Johnson, a woman of colour free,--Philadelphia, missing.

Monroe Ward. Mrs. Taylor Braxton, Mrs. Elizabeth Page, Mrs. Jerrod, James 
Waldon, Miss Elliot from N. Kent, Mrs. Gallego, Miss Conyers, Lieut. Jas. 
Gibbon, Mrs. Thomas Wilson, Miss Maria Nelson, Miss Mary Page, Mrs. 
Laforest.

Besides these, we must add the name of Mr. Almerine Marshall, of Wythe 
county.


AN ORDINANCE,
To amend the ordinance, entitled "An Ordinance concerning the 
Conflagration of the Theatre, in the City of Richmond."

(Passed the 28th, Dec. 1811.)

Whereas, it is represented to the President & Common Council of the City 
of Richmond, in Common Hall assembled, that the remains of their 
unfortunate Fellow-Citizens who perished in the conflagration of the 
Theatre, on the night of the twenty-sixth inst. cannot with convenience, 
be removed from the spot on which they were found, & some of them were so 
far consumed as to fall to ashes--and that it would be more satisfactory 
to their relations that they should be interred on the spot where they 
perished, and that the site of the Theatre should be consecrated as the 
sacred deposit of their bones & ashes.

Be it therefore ordained by the authority aforesaid, That the Committee 
appointed by the ORDINANCE entitled An Ordinance concerning the 
conflagration of the

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"Theatre in the City of Richmond," instead of burying the remains of our 
Fellow-Citizens in the public burying ground, shall cause them to be 
interred within the Area, formerly included in the walls of the Theatre: 
And the said Committee is hereby authorised and empowered to purchase of 
the proprietors thereof, as soon as may be possible, all the ground 
included within such walls.

And be it further ordained, That in addition to the duty imposed upon that 
Committee by the before recited Ordinance, they be requested to inclose 
with a suitable wall of brick of the height of five feet at the least, the 
whole of the ground formerly covered by the said Theatre; and that the 
Common-Hall of the City of Richmond hold the funds of the City pledged to 
defray the expenses of purchasing the said Area, and of the inclosure 
thereof, to be paid out of any money in the hands of the Chamberlain, at 
the time the said inclosure shall be erected by the said Committee, and to 
be paid by him to their draft or drafts.

This Ordinance shall take effect from the passing thereof.   A Copy,
N. SHEPPARD, C. C. H.


INTERMENT OF THE DEAD.

The arrangements for this melancholy occasion could not be completed 
before Sunday--and as the place of interment had been changed from the 
Church to the area where the Theatre stood, to that fatal and devoted 
spot, the funeral procession did not move, as was originally contemplated 
by the Committee, from the Baptist-Meeting-House, near the Theatre, where 
the relics lay, to the Church where the interment was intended to be made.

The mournful procession began at Mr. Edward Trent's, on the main street, 
where the remains of the unfortunate Mrs. Patterson lay.--In front, the 
Corpse--then the Clergy--Ladies in carriages--the Executive Council--
Directors of the Bank--Members of the Legislature--the Court of Hustings--
Common Hall--Citizens on foot

Page 42

and on horseback.--Why paint the length and solemnity of the line? They 
moved up the main street until they struck the cross street leading to the 
Bank--here they were joined by the Corpse of poor Juliana Harvie, who 
expired at her brother-in-law's the Cashier of the Bank--They moved up the 
Capitol Hill, and at the Capitol were joined by the bearers of two large 
Mahogany boxes, in which were enclosed the ashes and relics of the 
deceased.--The mournful procession then moved to "the devoted spot;" and 
in the centre of the area where once stood the pit, these precious relics 
were buried in one common grave. The service for the dead was read by the 
Rev. Mr. Buchanan.--The whole scene defies description. A whole city 
bathed in tears!--How awful the transition on this devoted spot!--A few 
days since, it was the theatre of joy and merriment--animated by the sound 
of music and the hum of a delighted multitude. It is now a funeral pyre! 
the receptacle of the relics of our friends!--and in a short time a 
monument will stand upon it to point out where their ashes lay!


REGISTER OF THE DEAD

In addition to the 63 persons who were published in our last, from the 
Report of the Committee, we are pained to be compelled to subjoin the 
following additional list:--

Perished in the flames. 
Miss Elvira Coutts, 
Mrs. Pickit, not wife of Mr. G. P. 
Miss Littlepage, 
Jean Baptiste Rezi, 
Thomas Lecroix, 
Robert Ferrill, a mulatto boy.

Expired since.

On Saturday night, Mrs. John Bosher.

And at 11 o'clock on Sunday night, Edward James Harvie, Esq.--in 
consequence of the injury he received

Page 43

in his efforts to save his unfortunate sister from the flames!!

Not one life has been lost from Manchester. Mrs. Hatcher has broken a limb.


RESOLUTIONS.

Adopted by the executive on Saturday, the 28th December, 1811.

Resolved unanimously, That in testimony of the profound sorrow which, as 
individuals and members of this body, we feel for the loss of our much 
lamented friend and fellow-citizen, George Wm. Smith, late Governor of 
this Commonwealth, and which in common with the afflicted people of this 
City, we feel for the loss of those other worthy and meritorious citizens, 
who fell a sacrifice to the flames in the late conflagration of the 
Theatre; and that, as a tribute, of the very high respect which we 
entertain for his and their memory, we will, for the space of thirty days 
wear crape on our left arms.

Resolved also, That agreeable to an arrangement proposed by the Committee 
appointed by the Common-Hall of this City, to superintend the interment of 
such of the remains of the unfortunate sufferers as have been saved, we 
will join the Funeral Procession.

Extract from the minutes.

Attest,
Wm. ROBERTSON, Clk. of the Council.


To the Citizens of Richmond.

In the sincerity of afflicted minds, and deeply wounded hearts, permit us 
to express the anguish which we feel for the late dreadful calamity, of 
which we cannot but consider ourselves the innocent cause. From a liberal 
and enlightened community, we fear no reproaches, but we are conscious 
that many have too much cause to wish

Page 44

they had never known us. To their mercy we appeal for forgiveness, not for 
a crime committed, but for one which could not be prevented. Our own loss 
cannot be estimated but by ourselves--'tis true (with one exception) we 
have not to lament the loss of life--but we have lost our friends, our 
patrons, our property, and in part, our homes. Nor is this all our loss--
In this miserable calamity, we find a sentence of banishment from your 
hospitable city. No more do we expect to feel that glorious pleasure which 
pervades a grateful heart, while it receives favours liberally bestowed. 
Never again shall we behold that feminine humanity which so eagerly 
displayed itself to soothe the victim of disease, nor view with exultation 
the benevolent who fostered the fatherless, and shed a ray of comfort on 
the departed soul of a dying mother. Here then we cease--eloquence of 
Grief is Silence.

James Rose, 
Hopkins Robertson, 
Chas. Young, 
Charles Durang, 
William Twaits, 
William Anderson. 
Thomas Burke. 
A. Placide, 
J. W. Green, 
Wm. Clark.

The committee of arrangement appointed by the Common-Hall of this city, 
believing that no one place of worship will be found large enough to 
accommodate all those who may choose to unite in devotion on Wednesday 
next, take the liberty to recommend that Divine Service be performed at 
all the places of public worship at eleven o'clock on the before-mentioned 
day.

Dec. 30, 1811.



FURTHER INFORMATION: BEING THE CONCLUSION.

From the Richmond Enquirer of January 2.

THERE are some of the unfortunate victims of Thursday night, whose 
particular fates we have in vain attempted to penetrate.--We have taken 
uncommon pains to collect an authentic narrative of the events of this 
disastrous night; we have requested the aid of every person whom we had 
heard was capable of furnishing any information, and to whom the subject 
was not too tender to be mentioned; yet it is with some pain we have 
failed in our efforts. We should be sorry even to wear the most distant 
appearance of neglecting the fate or the memory of any one who perished in 
that deplorable night--but this appearance at least is inevitable. There 
were few persons so cool and collected as to be able to illustrate the 
horrors of that night; several who were able to point out the particular 
threads in the disastrous web of destiny, are no doubt unknown to us; and 
some who have promised to reduce their narratives to paper, have been 
prevented from doing so by their engagements or their feelings. The 
following are the only statements which we have received. They are enough, 
however, to communicate a feint idea of the collective horror of the 
scene; what a group would have breathed upon the canvas, if a few feint 
strokes of the pencil are so affecting! If such were the feelings of a few 
individuals, what must have been the situation of 500 people?--How 
impotent is the pencil of Raphael in the Vatican, where he attempts to 
paint the conflagration of Rome!

We should still proceed in our researches--but the reader has contemplated 
horrors enough. It is time to leave the paths of death. We have dwelt long 
enough upon this melancholy

Page 46

theme; and we are anxious to relieve our columns from the sombre sable of 
wo. With this paper, therefore, let us cease the strains of grief: let us 
drop the subject. There is only another point of view in which we yet 
propose to consider it; but this is not directly calculated to harrow up 
the feelings of such as have lost their friends. Let us open the pages of 
history, and see whether this is the only city, which has been afflicted 
by so severe a visitation--whether this is the only people, whom "the 
paths of pleasure have led to the grave!"

We have learnt nothing very particularly authentic of the fate of Mrs. 
Thomas Wilson--we have merely heard, that with the cool and deliberate 
resolution of a strong mind, she remained for a time in her first 
position, fearing rather the consequences of precipitation and tumult, 
than the rapidity of the flames. They indeed baffled all reasonable 
calculation, and too many have fallen victims to this fatal mistake! Mrs. 
Wilson perished--one of the best of wives, the best of mothers, the most 
exemplary step-mother that ever lived! Words cannot express the agony of 
her distressed family--the deep dejection of all her friends.

The fate of Mrs. Heron is also wrapt in oblivion. She had been unfortunate 
enough to lose her husband by a disastrous accident--and her children have 
now lost their mother by one still more rapid and resistless. She was 
eminently true to all the domestic charities of life. But neither the hand 
of affection, of friendship, nor respect could snatch her from the tomb.

Mrs. Cook, the lamented wife of Mr. William Cook, and her daughter 
Rebecca, perished together. Long shall the disconsolate husband and 
father, weep over their ashes. Three motherless children are left behind 
her.

But why spread before the reader, all the havock of the scene!--The young 
have sunk as well as the married: the interesting Margaret Copland, the 
third daughter of Mr. Charles Copland; Patty Griffin, the only child of 
her aged mother; Miss Nelson, Miss Page, Miss Craig, all of them dear to 
their families and friends; William Southgate, the only prop of the family 
of Wright Southgate, deceased.--each has his merits; each has the public 
tear.

What a scene was exhibited for several hours after the tragic event! Many 
were ignorant of the fate of their friends.

Page 47

Almost every one had his fears and suspicions. During the next day, two 
persons could scarcely meet without exchanging expressions of solicitude;--
"Have you lost any of your family;"--"Is your family safe?" "I am glad of 
it, I am glad of it."

Many escaped with extreme difficulty. Several have broken a limb. Mr. John 
Richards has broken a leg; Mr. Carter Page has broken his. Miss Pendleton 
has also broken a limb. Mrs. Scott, of Fairfax, is much burnt. Some were 
severely burnt, whose clothes were whole.

We trust that the number of the dead is now exhausted. We give it entire 
in this paper. We had understood that some-strangers had arrived at 
particular taverns, whose names were unknown--and these were said to be 
missing. We have enquired, and are happy to find it a mistake.


STATEMENTS.

I occupied on Thursday evening a seat in the lower corner box on the left 
of the entrance into the Theatre. The first I saw of the fire a piece of 
paper in full blaze was descending from the top and was then about fifteen 
feet above the level of the Stage, ere it alighted, a general cry of 
"fire" pervaded the house; and the persons immediately quitted their 
seats. I was among the last to do so, and when I got half the distance to 
the stair-way, I met with Mrs. Scott, a lady of my acquaintance who I 
entreated to be calm, and not too precipitate; as her safety depended upon 
deliberation; her answer was "I am not alarmed and will do so;" we 
advanced a few feet and a loud cry that it was a "false alarm" induced me 
to return to the corner where I had sat, and looked through a door then 
open, and there I discovered the scenery in full blaze and the canopy on 
fire. I hastened back to the crowd. Being a stranger at the Theatre and 
ignorant of its construction, I knew no mode of escape except through the 
avenue I had ascended to the boxes.--I found it blockaded up by the crowd, 
and the light being very vivid, I discovered that the persons in it were 
principally Ladies; they were greatly alarmed and crying for relief, and 
entreating the crowd not to destroy them; still persisting in the belief 
that as the fire was in the rear, the danger was not very imminent; 
unwilling to crowd on those before me, and being too lame to encounter

Page 48

the struggle, I refrained from pressing upon them, but in a minute I found 
my hopes were illusive--a black thick smoke rushed upon us, so 
instantaneously suffocating, that those who had yielded to their fears by 
crying, sunk without a groan and I found a space in front no longer 
crowded except by prostrate bodies. I advanced until the external light 
ascertained to me that I was opposite a window near the head of the 
stairs; this I endeavoured to force, but the bodies of some persons 
standing in that direction stopt me two feet short of it. In the efforts 
made after the smoke reached me I must have consumed in half a minute. I 
then was compelled to breath this oppressive smoke, which was so 
intolerable that I could only make one convulsive struggle to advance, and 
I then sunk senseless--My last recollection was that my feet were 
descending; but whether the floor or stairway were broken, or I had 
reached the descent, I am not conscious, I heard no noise. Insensibly I 
descended to the level of the pit and there a strong current of fresh air 
revived me, as I lay amongst a heap of prostrate persons. I struggled to 
rise and found myself on my feet with a lady clinging to me, she entreated 
me to save her, and as she was unable to support herself, I carried her in 
various directions to find the outer door, which I avoided from a mistake 
that had almost proved fatal. I saw several persons falling from the 
windows into the street in full blaze, and my impression was that becoming 
desperate by the fire, they were plunging from the boxes into the pit, the 
place of all others most to be avoided; in this effort to find the way out 
I saw several gentlemen running to and fro, to whom I addressed the 
enquiry "which is the way out?" but obtained no answer. I at length 
determined to find the avenue through which the great column of air 
entered; and by running towards it, soon gained the door. When we got out, 
the fire was pouting through the front windows, and ere we had advanced 
far the roof tumbled in. The lady whom I rescued still claimed my 
assistance, and I carried her to a place of safety--I saw no more of the 
scene until the walls tumbled down, and do not know of any, or how many 
got out after we did, but I am confident that if those from without had 
ran in, many who fell by the suffocation and were burned before they 
regained strength to rise, would have been saved.

December 30, 1811.   J. G. JACKSON.

Page 49

SIR,--Agreeably to your request, I proceed to state the circumstances 
attending my situation and escape from the Theatre on the awful night of 
the 26th inst. I carried with me to the play, my niece and the two Miss 
Herons, Alfred Gilliat, Peter Kirby, and Nicholas Gilliam, nephew to my 
wife and self, the House was much crowded: for the girls, I with 
difficulty procured seats among some of their friends, mostly ladies, in 
box No. 8, and for the boys, seats in the back box No. 7--and was sitting 
when the curtain rose in the second act of the Afterpiece, next the boys, 
immediately after which the alarm of fire was given, and instantly I saw 
the fire falling on the stage. On rising from my seat, I desired the boys 
to take care of themselves and escape as soon as possible, and proceeded 
myself towards the seats in the next box, which were occupied by my niece, 
the Miss Herons and their party, with the intention of assisting them out 
of the House. I reached the place without much difficulty, but the party 
had all left their seats, and in endeavouring to return through the lobby 
I was carried with the current of the crowd opposite to the place from 
whence I had departed, and found that Mrs. Gibbon, Mrs. Gallego, Miss 
Conyers and the three Boys had all left their seats--In the then state of 
affairs it was evidently fruitless for me to search for either of the 
persons of whom I had been in pursuit, and at this juncture I began to 
think of myself for the first time.--I was in the lobby next to box No. 7, 
and the flames were approaching with a degree of fury and rapidity that 
perhaps was never exceeded--hitherto the scene had been all bustle, 
confusion and consternation; it now changed to one of awful horror and 
desperation that beggars all description,--all ceremony was forgotten in 
conforming to the first law of nature--I perceived the centre window in 
the front end of the House and determined to endeavour to reach it--with 
the assistance of a sword-cane which I had in my hand, and the partition 
betwixt the lobby and the box No. 7, I mounted on the heads of the crowd 
betwixt me and the window --by this time the House was in total darkness 
from smoke, but in groping, I providentially reached the side of the 
window, surrounded by the unavailing and afflicting cries of those 
suffocating around me. I stepped within the window, and with difficulty 
raised the lower sash with the intention of slipping out, and had thrust 
my feet through for that purpose, when the sash was suddenly pressed down 
and caught my

Page 50

feet betwixt it and the window sill. I extricated one foot but could not 
extricate the other, until those behind me who had sufficient strength 
left to mount over me and the lower sash which kept me down, did so: in 
this situation I found myself so far gone from suffocation, that I gave 
myself up as lost, the flames however rushed over my head, and the 
introduction of fresh air at the bottom of the window, gave me new life,--
those behind me being no longer able to keep me down, I with a last effort 
raised the window, extricated my foot and jumped out, without receiving 
any injury from the fall, though much injured in one of my feet from 
bruises occasioned by the pressure of the window sash, and I have other 
wounds and bruises received in the lobby and window, so slight however, as 
under other considerations not to be worth naming. Mr. John Lynch, 
merchant of this city, was I believe the only person who past through the 
window after me. I left many others about it, all of whom must have 
perished--so rapid was the fire that I do not think three minutes could 
have elapsed from the first alarm until I reached the window: at any rate, 
with all the exertion that I could make, about thirty feet would I think 
include the whole space of my progress from the first alarm until I 
reached the window, and at that time many were expiring with suffocation--
In the midst of so much sorrow and grief, it affords me much consolation 
that the three Boys and Girls whom I carried with me, have all escaped 
with their lives, although the efforts which I made, with the view of 
assisting them, were unavailing. The scene which ensued out of the house, 
was witnessed by many, and like that within, will long be remembered, but 
probably never adequately described.

I am respectfully, Sir,
Your obedient servant,
M. W. HANCOCK.


Sir,--In consequence of the conversation we had this evening, I take up my 
pen, and without further preface, state, that when the commencement of the 
dreadful fire, of Thursday night was announced from the stage, I was 
leaning over the back of the front box, which was the next to the north 
side of the Theatre: on my left hand was Lieut. Gibbon, and on the bench 
directly below was Mrs. Gallego, Miss Conyers, Mrs.

Page 51

Gibbon, Mrs. Braxton, Mr. Venable and others, whose names I cannot 
recollect: the alarm of fire was immediately succeeded by a cry of, 'tis a 
false alarm, there is no danger, and as we did not imagine any, both 
Lieut. Gibbon and myself, endeavoured to quiet the apprehensions of the 
ladies in the box. I fixed my eyes on the stage; the scene, which was 
down, had the appearance of a transparency, behind which gleams of light 
seemed to descend; but this did not convince me, nor any person near me; a 
moment, however, decided, the front scene was in flames, and I then 
resolved to give all that assistance which humanity dictated, and reached 
over for Miss Conyers, who had sunk motionless below. Lieut. Gibbon did 
the same; we took her over, we held her between us, she was in a state of 
insensibility, and to all appearance dead, her head falling over my left 
arm; in this manner we proceeded towards the head of the stairs, when 
Gibbon said, "Lynch, leave Sally to me, I am strong enough to carry her, 
she is light, and you can save somebody else. I replied, God bless you 
Gibbon, there is the stairs. I then turned round and proceeded for my 
original situation, in order to take out some of the other ladies, and as 
I returned, I perceived the dreadful element rush with the rapidity of 
lightning from the stage, along the facing of the upper boxes, taking both 
sides at the same time, and from the dreadful column of smoke which was 
then thrown down upon the centre of the front boxes, the flames must have 
met there: all was now utter darkness in the lobby, and suffocation 
threatened. I could not do any thing, I was in the midst of a crowd of 
sufferers, the cries were dreadful, it was an awful period, and only that 
the end window was then burst open, we must all, all that were in that 
lobby, would certainly have been suffocated; the opening of the window 
brought relief and hope. I moved on with the throng to the window, and got 
to the west side of it. There was a gentleman in a light coloured coat, 
fixed fast in the window seat, (whom I since understand was Mr. Hancock); 
it appeared to me that his legs and thighs were fixed between the sill of 
the window and the brick work: men and women were precipitating themselves 
on his shoulders, regardless of his entreaties to allow him to free 
himself, and of the fate that waited them below: many bodies were laying 
on the ground to appearance dead, and the flames were passing out of the 
top of the window; I was undetermined,

Page 52

and at that moment I was pushed away towards the west wall of the theatre, 
again suffocation threatened, the flames were rushing on in all 
directions, my hair caught fire, (for my hat was gone); hope deserted me. 
I was struck with horror at the idea of being burnt alive; I rushed 
towards the window, waving my hands as quick as possible over my head and 
clothes: this was a dreadful moment--I saw many drop down on each side of 
me suffocated, and I passed over some bodies on my way: the window was now 
free, and I was scarcely on the bottom of it, when I heard an awful crash 
behind me. I threw myself out, and Providence preserved me. I am, with 
heartfelt feelings of congratulation on your own providential escape,

Very respectfully, Sir, your most obedient.

Richmond, 29th December, 1811.   JOHN LYNCH.


Dear Sir,--Being told, that for the purpose of collecting the best 
information concerning all the circumstances attending the late dreadful 
conflagration, you were desirous of obtaining from each individual who had 
escaped, a short account of the manner and circumstances under which such 
escape was effected; I send you the following statement:

As the curtain rose for the commencement of the second act of the 
pantomime, I was standing in the lobby on the lower range of boxes, 
conversing with some of my friends through the broken pannel of a box 
about thirty feet from the head of the stairs. This box was entirely 
filled; among others who were in it, and who have perished, I remember 
Mrs. Gallego, Miss Conyers, Lieut. Gibbon, and Mr. Venable.--Immediately 
after the rising of the curtain, and as the scene commenced, I saw several 
flakes of fire fall about the centre of the stage; but supposed it was 
probably the falling of some ornament or lights intended to illuminate the 
scene. The cry of "fire!" was instantly given. I advanced a few steps into 
the lobby inquiring from whence the alarm arose, and met several persons, 
some of them known to me, calling out that it was a false alarm. I turned 
about, and now saw the curtain dropped, and a very large bright light 
behind it--I then felt assured that the house was on fire in that quarter. 
The consternation and confusion had become general. I felt no fear 
whatever from the flames, and was only apprehensive

Page 53

that by the impetuosity of the crowd, many would be crushed to death, and 
with others united in calling out to those around me, that the danger was 
magnified, and beseeched them not to press so fast on those before--we 
called to the winds--I endeavoured to force my way back to the side of the 
box I had left, to calm the fears of those with whom I had been speaking, 
and to wait until the crowd had passed. This however was impossible. The 
column of the crowd in which I was enclosed, bore me irresistibly, but 
slowly along towards the stairs. Still feeling no fears of being overtaken 
by the flames, I continued folded in my cloak, and pressing my weight 
backwards, to give as far as possible an opportunity to those on the head 
of the stairs (where the pressure already seemed dreadful) to effect their 
escape. Suddenly I perceived a thick, black, hot smoke, curling down on 
our heads; persons were no longer to be distinguished; utter darkness 
prevailed; suffocation was fast approaching; for the first moment I was 
seriously alarmed, and by the most violent exertions endeavoured to make 
my way to the head of the stairs; it appeared to me I could not gain an 
inch. Those around me were sinking; my own strength failed, and I verily 
believed that I never should see the light again; at this instant a window 
on my right was forced open; the fresh air somewhat dissipated the smoke 
and revived us to new exertion; a universal scream of mingled joy and 
despair was given, and a rush towards the windows; those next it seemed 
unable to move, and cried out, "that they were pressed to death." I was 
within a few paces of it; and by desperate exertions endeavoured to reach 
it; I could not; in a last effort of despair assisting myself by the 
shoulder of some one next me, I drew my feet up and was thrown by the 
united impulse of others, and my own exertions, with my feet directly on 
the window sill, at the same instant fortunately seizing a broken fragment 
of the sash, I passed my head under it and reached the ground without 
material injury--I left many behind me.

THOMSON F. MASON.

Monday morning.


SIR--My friend Mr. Thomas Nelson, has informed me, that you wished me to 
state the particulars of my providential escape from the dreadful fire 
which consumed the Theatre on Thursday night last. They are as follows;--
The late

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period at which I arrived at the play house, compelled me to ascend to the 
second row of boxes, to secure a seat for Mrs. Pendleton and myself, where 
we remained until I discovered the second spark of fire fall on the Stage 
in front of the curtain, when I immediately heard the cry of fire from 
behind--I then left my seat, and proceeded along the gangway, towards the 
head of the stair-case, entreating the affrighted females to have 
patience, and not precipitate themselves into the immense crowd that was 
pressing forward, lest we should be trampled to death, believing, that by 
waiting a few minutes we should have more room, and consequently descend 
with more expedition and safety.

In a few seconds, however, I was convinced by the effect of an 
indescribable current of steam on my flesh, and smoke on my lungs, that I 
had miscalculated, and that our escape must be instantaneous or not at 
all, as suffocation threatened. With an energy, which nothing but such a 
dreadful crisis could inspire, I rushed forward, retaining my wife's arms 
locked in mine, until I attained the first turn in the stair-case just 
below, or perhaps nearly opposite the window, next the front corner, on 
the lower, or side next the meeting house. At this place, the crowd 
behind, trod on the tail of my large loose great coat, completely stopped 
my progress, and had well nigh thrown me backwards, which nothing but an 
exertion I did not think myself capable of making, prevented. In this 
situation, my wife (great God, sir, figure, to yourself my agony!) was 
torn from me by the resistless force of the crowd, and just at the instant 
of our separation, numbers were trampled down,--and I did verily believe, 
that she was one of those unfortunate victims. I thought I had then lost 
the object which had thus far stimulated my exertions, and remained 
perfectly motionless for some seconds, having fixed myself in the corner 
of the brick wall to prevent being forced down, and reflected on the 
impossibility of extricating myself from the impending destruction, by 
following the prodigious crowd that was then wedging me in my fortunate 
corner.

While these reflections were crossing my mind, I heard the window forced 
open just above me, and felt the reviving influence of the delicious air 
which rushed upon me, and invigorated the efforts which then saved my 
life. By exertions which I now consider as supernatural, I reached the 
window, which at that auspicious moment I enjoyed undisputed pos-

LB Ag '09