"Towards four o'clock in the afternoon, from our attic windows we witnessed the destruction of St. Nicholas's Church. It was terrible to see this beautiful building become the prey of the element, which was becoming more fearful the more ground it gained.

"My sister and her husband were to have gone to the opera in the evening; but it was announced that, in consequence of the calamity, there would be no performance.

"The spectacle became from hour to hour more shocking.

"The whole city now began to show the most lively alarm. The bells, the firing of cannon, the cries and confusion in the streets, all presaged a night of anguish and terror. Our apprehensions, alas! were but too faithfully realized. It was not, however, until night had spread her sad wings over the scene that we could perceive the whole extent of the destruction which menaced the entire city. The heavens became as red as blood; the devouring flames, increased more and more by an impetuous wind, rose to a gigantic height.

"At seven o'clock, Madame came to us in a wretched state. She told us that her sisters at Holzdamm (who were further from the fire than we, the flames having taken the direction of Dreck Wall and Bleichen) had sent all their valuables to her; so great was the fear they were in. We could hardly avoid smiling; for we thought it incredible that the fire could possibly reach Holzdamm. At ten, Madame went home, and my sister retired to bed towards eleven; but afterwards we received a visit from some gentlemen, who came to say that serious measures were about to be taken, by blowing up some houses which were likely to cause the fire to spread further.

"At half-past twelve I went to bed myself; but the noise of the explosions, the rumbling of the carriages and carts, the cries, the large flakes of fire which every instant were driven impetuously by the wind across my windows, threatening to set fire to our house, the excessive light of the conflagration, the whistling of the wind, and, as you will easily think, the idea that the lives of persons in whom we were interested were in continual danger, not to mention the conviction of the numberless misfortunes that were happening, prevented all sleep. The windows trembled with the redoubled concussions of the explosions, and the whole house seemed as if it would be annihilated. In such a state I could not close an eye; visions and dreams, but above all still sadder realities, presented themselves to my imagination continually.

"Before three o'clock had struck, I found myself again with my sister; who, like me, had been kept awake by the dreadful noise caused by the blowing up of the Rathhaus. At this moment an order of the police was announced to us to wet the roof of our house, and to cause the water to flow in the gutters. Frederick had flown to the assistance of his brothers. We were therefore alone; and mounting on the roof scarcely dressed, were soon throwing over it pails of water, and our neighbours were doing the same. We prepared ourselves for the worst-threw on our clothes-the confusion increased -we could not remain. We packed up in sheets and boxes some of our effects.

It was a

"With the appearance of day our fears increased. spectacle as sublime as it was fearful to view the sun, clear and brilliant, rising in all its splendour over the Lombard's Bridge, and on the city side to see nothing but a single mass of flames. It was not, however, a moment for contemplation, but for action; for the worst was to come. We called for the coachman to carry away the things we had packed; but how ridiculous to think we had any longer servants at our disposal! The city, or the passengers, had become masters of the coachmen of my brother-in-law and his mother, and not a man was to be got to carry away our effects for love or money: our horses were harnessed to the fire-engines, and the greatest confusion prevailed. Now succeeded hours which I cannot describe to you. The old Jungfernsteig began to be endangered. The Alster, before our windows, was covered with barges full of burning furniture; the old Jungfernsteig heaped also with goods on fire. On the promenade even of the new Jungsfernsteig, I do not speak too largely when I say there were thousands of cars full of furniture, of merchandize, and of people who were saving themselves. Two carts were burning before our house. With our own hands we helped to extinguish the flames. A woman was on fire before our eyes; fortunately I perceived it in time to save her. The horses became unmanageable, and fell down with fright almost into the Alster. A tremendous shower of ashes and of flakes of fire nearly suffocated us, and obstructed our sight. The wind blew with great violence, and the dust was frightful. The fire had now gained St. Peter's. The people thought the day of judgment was come. They wept, they screamed, they knew not what to do at the sight of so much misery. The horses, without drivers, were dragging the carts about in disorder over the Esplanade. Soldiers escorted from the city the dead and the dying, and prisoners who had been plundering. At last, after the greatest efforts, we obtained carts and horses to transport our goods; but the exhausted horses, as well as men, refused to work. With bread in our hands we ourselves fed them. Whole families fell down and fainted before our doors.

"Along all the walls, and out of the Damthor and other gates, nothing was to be seen but one spectacle of misery-a camp of unfortunates in bivouac, groaning, exhausted, famishing. I saw some who had become deranged; mothers with infants at breasts which had no nourishment for them. Fauteuilles of gold and satin adorned the ramparts, and the poor exhausted firemen were reposing on them. An Englishman, Mr. Skinner, who acted as chief engineer, came into Madame - -'s house, whither we had retired on Friday evening: he had eaten nothing for nearly forty hours, and devoured what we were able to give him, for provisions were beginning to be scarce, and we knew not where to procure more. He told us that if the wind should not change in a few hours, the Jungfernsteig and the Esplanade would be swallowed up by the fire, and that the whole city was in imminent danger, for that half the people were intoxicated. club-house would have been blown up if the wind had not changed. My brother-in-law would not quit his house till the last moment.

The

We

were on the Esplanade; Madame and her sisters had gone to her country house. Our house was nearly empty; we had ourselves stripped it of everything that was most valuable, and carried whatever we could carry. How we had the strength to do it I know not. Our women-servants worked like horses; but since some hours we have not been permitted to remain at the Jungfernsteig. Although the direction of the wind having changed, the flames and the gunpowder have spared the club-house, they have revenged themselves on the poor Holzdamm; the fire continuing to rage with vehemence, and the city becoming more and more in revolt. One family has been hunted in this manner from four different places. There being no longer any certainty of safety on the Esplanade, at ten o'clock in the evening we set off for the country, but the next morning early we returned to town. I believe Madame has at least twenty-five people in her house. She says the siege of Hamburgh was nothing in comparison. The rights of property have ceased. After raging nearly one hundred hours, the fire stopped at the Stein Thor. Fears were entertained for St. George. I enclose a plan of the city, with the part marked which has been destroyed. The new Exchange has been saved, though surrounded by the conflagration. I cannot describe the confusion that prevails every where. All the gentlemen are patrolling like soldiers, for in no quarter is one in safety. The S--'s were fortunately in the country. Their house in town was saved by the efforts of the firemen, but has been pillaged by the mob. Almost all the furniture was saved.

"I have seen Madame Swartz since these terrible occurrences; and she has related to me how touching it was to see the firemen exert their last efforts to save her house, saying, that having been built by so worthy a man, that house at least should not be burned, for they knew and loved the good senator, and hold his memory in great respect. Many of our friends' houses are destroyedall our tradespeople burnt out. All the old Jungfernsteig is down. Streit's hotel was blown up. Poor Mr. Streit was still in the house when it was done. He was behind a door, and has been much injured, though still living. Frederick's sister-in-law, during one of the terrible nights, gave birth to a child in our travelling carriage, in which she had taken refuge. Many women were taken in the same way in the open fields. The dying breathed their last sigh in the streets and highways. Words cannot tell the miseries we have witnessed. At present, we only think of doing all the good we can-of saving and cherishing. But the lower orders now think they may do what they like they take possession of all the houses that have escaped; they transport thither the goods they have saved, and establish their shops in them. In this manner our house has become the dwelling of a tailor and all his family. But that is not all; the master of an oyster-cellar, finding the situation a favourable one, has brought thither all his merchandize also.

"Do not think I have exaggerated the miseries I have spoken of -no pen or words can ever depict the reality."

Peace, child! Yet, thou hast wit, and honesty,

A feeling heart too; but such idle speech
As thy looks threatened, angers me.

Your pardon !

FABIAN.

But yesterday he met me, and inquired

Where, how, and when he might behold his idol!

Calanthe angry?

FABIAN.

Discard me not, for look, here comes a reveller

Unfit for thee to meet.

Signora, till he passes.

Stand by awhile,

Enter MARCIAN. (He does not perceive them.)

Here I heard

MARCIAN.

The villain lurked; if he escape me now—

CALANTHE (Aside).

That face! that voice! tho' changed 'tis Marcian,

In abject poverty, and furious.

Who threatens he? He is his kinsman's foe.

Treat him with deference. Obey my order.

I shall be safe,—we must be private. Go! (FABIAN retires.)

MARCIAN (Aside).

An angel should not save him. Not a choir

Of saints should sing me back to tameness now.

CALANTHE (Approaching him).

Marcian! (He starts.)

MARCIAN.

A Woman? hence! ye're all deceivers.