9.30 pm - the firemen at work
to try to contain the flames.
Ten o'clock - By now the theatre is almost completely burnt. .
| "I'm truly speechless. La Fenice is burning: Venice is losing the Fenice". These are the only words that Massimo Cacciari, Mayor of Venice, could pronounce as he stood before the blaze that, in the night of January 29th, devastated the musical heart of the lagoon city. And with the Mayor stood the Venetians, astounded and fearful, gazing up at that hollow, crusty carcass of all that was left of their beloved theatre, the pearl of music and treasure for the world as a whole. The fire began at about eight in the evening. Not long after, the first witnesses ran and raised the alarm. In only a few minutes, the same brief interlude that had been enough to create the furnice, arrived the local fire brigades with all their available men: three squads from Venice and two from mainland Mestre. All the province's emergency squads were mobilised. | ||
| But despite their numbers and celerity, the men couldn't stop the flames. Fate's cruel trick was to make the canals surrounding the theatre dry, because of work in progress to unsilt them. With no water on-hand, the firemen were forced to run to the large canals farther away, but by then nothing could have stopped the disaster. People approaching Venice along the Ponte della Libert� - the bridge connecting the city to the mainland - could see a plume of smoke and 50 metre high scarlet tongues licking the sky. They couldn't believe their eyes: the eerie scene belonged to other times. Venice burning. Everyone hastened to theatre district, and the police tried to hold back the curious; but all were afraid. The area was evacuated but the inhabitants were becoming increasingly distraught. It may seem absurd now, but everyone was terrified of losing their home. | 9.30 pm - the firemen at work to try to contain the flames. | |
Ten o'clock - By now the theatre is almost completely burnt. . | And danger was lurking indeed: the theatre, which had been closed since last August for refurbishment, was soon to be reopened, and the gas cylinders that had recently been taken inside for work on the new fire-prevention system, were realised to be the most serious hazard. The blaze flared up again and the historic centre was by now in a state of utter confusion. Above the red glare in the sky roared a fire-department helicopter, shuttling water buckets from canal to the site, trying and stop the fire spreading. The blaze had to be tackled inside the building, so the doors of the theatre were blown and the men went in. Midnight struck and still the flames would not relinquish their hold. By now everything had collapsed inside: the dome had finally given way, and the Fenice's interior splendour was reduced to portrait of ruin. Around the outside one could breathe the anguish and anxiety of those still trying to stop the disaster, but who knew by then that the theatre, made completely of wood, had been devoured. And the ordeal lasted right through the night. | |
| Morning, Janury 30th. For those arriving from the mainland, Venice reclined on the lagoon in all her spendour. A clear and blustery day, everything seemed normal. But something has died; something for Venice and all the world has been lost - and ashes are all that remain. But if the tradition holds strong, perhaps there is still hope. That the Fenice be reborn from its ashes. | ||
| Ten thirty p.m.- A deafening crash and the roof caves in. | |
| Eleven o'clock: The firemen, perched on the roofs of the houses, try to contain the fire. |