In 1746 the city of Lima,--the gorgeous City of the Kings,--at the climax of its luxury, was utterly destroyed. Seventy-four churches, fourteen monasteries with their paintings, lamps of gold, vessels of silver, precious stones, tapestries, and mirrors, their beautiful fountains, arches, cloisters, and stairways in rare designs, were laid waste. The building material was as rich as the work upon it; as a contemporary traveler expressed it: “If it did not exceed in beauty, it at least equaled anything in the world.” In four minutes there was complete desolation. Out of the whole city only twenty buildings remained standing. Bridges broke, palaces fell, the sick in the hospitals were buried alive; nuns in their cloisters, monks in their cells, were suffocated in clouds of sulphurous dust. Churches collapsed, crushing those who were praying within. Even the Holy Inquisition was obliged to suspend torture for the time being. The earth was like an animal shaking the dust from its back. It swept forward in great waves; walls were reeds on its shores, bending to the tempest. Between the waves, clouds of poisonous dust rose from the chasms. Clocks stopped. Bells in the towers clashed with limp bell ropes, till towers following in turn stifled the din under smoking débris. Everything was reversed; that which stood still was set in violent motion, and moving things were brought to rest. Shrieks for help and agonized prayers mingled, until they, too, ceased. The sea retreated half a league from Callao, gathered strength from unknown, hidden places, and with a cosmic roar rushed over the entire city, engulfing it and carrying all the ships of the harbor across its walls and towers to be stranded in inland gardens. All of its five thousand inhabitants perished in the deluge, and there was nothing left to give the least idea of what Callao had been. “To be preserved from its fury could only be attributed to a particular and extraordinary help of Providence.” Yet thousands in Lima who had escaped destruction or death from fright died of fevers which came after. Those who remained were occupied with burying the dead in trenches. Famine as well as fever followed, for the grain magazines of Callao had been buried under water, ovens had fallen in, aqueducts bringing water for turning the mills had been destroyed. Nor was this all. Loath to give up its fiendish hold, not yet glutted with destruction, the underground fury visited the helpless ruins it had created with five hundred and sixty-eight earthquakes during the next year!