On the 1st of November, 1755, a few minutes before 10 a.m. the inhabitants of Lisbon were alarmed by several violent vibrations of the ground which then rose and fell several times with such force that hundreds of houses came toppling into the streets, crushing thousands of people. At the same time the air grew pitchy dark from the clouds of dust that rose from the crumbling edifices. Many persons ran down to the river side, in the hope of escaping to the shipping; but the water suddenly rose some yards perpendicularly, and swept away everything before it. The quay, with nearly 200 human beings standing on it, all at once disappeared. Large ships, which were lying high and dry, floated off, and were dashed against each other or carried down the river. In every direction the surface of the water was overspread with boats, timber, casks, household furniture and corpses. The scene on dry land was yet more horrifying. Churches, government buildings, and private houses, were all involved in the same ruin. Many thousands of trembling fugitives had collected in the great square, when it was discovered that flames were spreading in every quarter. Taking advantage of the universal panic and confusion, a band of miscreants had fired the city. Nothing could be done to stay the progress of the flames, and for eight days they raged unchecked. Whatever the earthquake had spared fell a prey to this new calamity. "It is not to be expressed by human tongue," writes an eye-witness, "how dreadful and how awful it was to enter the city after the fire was abated; and looking upwards, one was struck with horror in beholding dead bodies, by six or seven in a heap, crushed to death, half buried and half burnt; and if one went through the broad places or squares, nothing was to be met with but people bewailing their misfortunes, wringing their hands, and crying, 'The world is at an end.' If you go out of the city, you behold nothing but barracks, or tents made with canvass or ship's sails, where the poor inhabitants lye."