their countrymen." The barracks, which stand above the town, are large and commodious, capable of holding 2,000 men, and, from their situation, might completely command the town, were they not overlooked by the neighbouring heights.

Caracas was the residence under the colonial system, of the captain-general, the intendant, an audiencia, an archbishop and chapter, and a holy office. The archbishop had for his suffragans, the Bishops of Merida and Guayana: his revenue was about 60,000 dollars, which, by the sale of indulgencies, dispensations, and bulls, was raised to 30,000 more. The captain-general and all the public officers lived in hired houses, the treasury and the barracks being the only edifices that belonged to the Government. The population, in 1807, amounted to 47,228 persons, of all colours; of whom, according to M. Depons, "the whites formed nearly one-fourth, the slaves a third, the Indians a twentieth, and the freed persons the rest." M. Humboldt, however, states that, of 45,000 persons, which the best-informed inhabitants believed it to contain in 1800, 18,000 were whites, and 27,000 persons of colour. The census of 1778 had made the number amount to nearly 32,000. Since then, it had continued to increase; and in 1810, the city contained, according to M. Lavaysse, 50,000 souls; the population of the whole province being 496,772.* Such was about the number, when, by the great earthquake of the 26th of March, 1812, 12,000 inhabitants were buried under the ruins of their houses; and the political commotions which succeeded that catastrophe, have reduced the number of inhabitants to less than 20,000 souls! More than half the town is now in ruins. "The houses of Caracas," says a recent Traveller, once so rich in the costli

* Lavaysse, p. 52.

ness of their furniture and decorations,* can now barely boast of the commonest articles of convenience; and it is with the utmost difficulty that a table, chair, or bedstead, can at present be procured. That part which is nearest the mountain, presents a continued mass of ruins. For the full space of a mile, the streets are overgrown with weeds, and are entirely uninhabited."+

"On approaching the guard-house of the barrier to pay the toll exacted from travellers, I was struck," says another Writer, "with the wretchedness of its appearance, the filth which surrounded it, and the squalid figures of the soldiery, whose small stature, dirty, ragged clothing, half-polished muskets, and lack of shoes and stockings, afforded the most convincing proofs of the exhausted and miserable state to which intestine war has reduced this fine country. From this barrier, the road lies along a ridge to the entrance of the town, where the first object that attracted my attention, was a church on my left, which had been shattered by the earthquake. The walls only of the nave stood erect, although split in some places, and partly concealed by the wild vegetation, which, in this country, seems ever ready to take advantage of the desertion of any spot to recover it from human usurpation. The central tower had not entirely fallen, but stood deeply rent from the top, in a leaning position, threatening destruction to all within its reach. Many similar scenes of dilapidation characterised this part of the town, roofless and

M. Depons dilates on the beautiful glasses, crimson damask curtains, gilded bedsteads, down pillows in muslin cases trimmed with lace, rich carpets, brilliant lustres, rich and luxurious sofas, &c. &c. found in the houses of the principal inhabitants.

shattered walls, leaning with various degrees of inclination, being met with at every step. A little further on, symptoms of renovation appear, in a few houses which are building; and at length, on reaching the southern part, few. traces of the calamity are seen, the houses generally remaining entire, with merely occasional flaws in the walls. These are chiefly built of sun-dried clay, or mud (tapia) beaten down between wooden frames. The roofs are of tile, and the walls white-washed."*

EARTHQUAKE OF 1812.

The pen of M. Humboldt has supplied us with a vivid and affecting description of the awful convulsion which overwhelmed the town, and changed, in some places, the surface of the soil. A shock had been felt at Caracas in the month of December 1811. From that time, however, the inhabitants were undisturbed till, on the 7th and 8th of February, 1812, the earth was, day and night, in perpetual oscillation. A great drought prevailed at this period throughout the province. Not a drop of rain had fallen at Caracas, or for ninety leagues round, during the five months which preceded the destruction of the capital. The 26th of March, the fatal day, was remarkably hot; the air was calm, the sky unclouded. "It was Holy Thursday, and a great part of the population was assembled in the churches. Nothing seemed to presage the calamities of the day. At seven minutes after four in the afternoon, the first shock was felt; it was sufficiently powerful to make the bells of the churches toll; it lasted five or six seconds, during which time the ground was in a continual undulating movement, and seemed to heave up like a boiling liquid. The danger was thought to be past, when

*Cochrane's Columbia, vol. i. P. 15.

a tremendous subterraneous noise was heard, resembling the rolling of thunder, but louder, and of longer continuance than that heard within the tropics in time of storms. This noise preceded a perpendicular motion of three or four. seconds, followed by an undulatory movement somewhat longer. The shocks were in opposite directions, from north to south, and from east to west. Nothing could resist the movement from beneath upward and the undulations, crossing each other. The town of Caracas was entirely overthrown. Thousands of the inhabitants (between 9 and 10,000) were buried under the ruins of the houses and churches. The procession had not yet set out, but the crowd was so great in the churches, that nearly 3 or 4,000 persons were crushed by the fall of their vaulted roofs. The explosion was stronger toward the north, in that part of the town situate nearest the mountain of Avila and the Silla. The churches of La Trinidad and Alta Gracia, which were more than 150 feet high, and the naves of which were supported by pillars of twelve or fifteen feet in diameter, left a mass of ruins scarcely exceeding five or six feet in elevation. The sinking of the ruins has been so considerable, that there now scarcely remain any vestiges of pillars or columns. The barracks, called El Quartel de San Carlos, situate further north of the church of the Trinity, on the road from the custom-house de la Pastora, almost entirely disappeared. A regiment of troops of the line, that was assembled under arms, ready to join the procession, was, with the exception of a few men, buried under the ruins of this great edifice. Nine-tenths of the fine town of Caracas were entirely destroyed. The walls of the houses that were not thrown down, as those of the street San Juan, near the Capuchin Hospital, were cracked in such a manner, that it was impossible to run the risk of inhabiting them. The effects of the earthquake were somewhat less violent

in the western and southern parts of the city, between the principal square and the ravine of Caraguata. There, the cathedral, supported by enormous buttresses, remains standing. Estimating at 9 or 10,000 the number of the dead in the city of Caracas, we do not include those unhappy persons who, dangerously wounded, perished several months after for want of food and proper care. The night of Holy Thursday presented the most distressing scene of desolation and sorrow. A thick cloud of dust, which, rising above the ruins, darkened the sky like a fog, had, settled on the ground. No shock was felt, and never was a night more calm or more serene. The moon, nearly full, illumined the rounded domes of the Silla, and the aspect of the sky formed a perfect contrast to that of the earth, covered with the dead, and heaped with ruins. Mothers were seen bearing in their arms their children, whom they hoped to recall to life. Desolate families wandered through the city, seeking a brother, a husband, a friend, of whose fate they were ignorant, and whom they believed to be lost in the crowd. The people pressed along the streets, which could no more be recognised but by long lines of ruins. All the calamities experienced in the great catastrophes of Lisbon, Messina, Lima, and Riobamba, were renewed on the fatal day of the 26th of March, 1812. The wounded, buried under the ruins, implored, by their cries, the help of the passersby, and nearly two thousand were dug out. was pity displayed in a more affecting manner; never had it been seen more ingeniously active, than in the efforts employed to save the miserable victims whose groans reached the ear. Implements for digging and clearing away the ruins were entirely wanting; and the people were obliged to use their bare hands to disinter the living. The wounded, as well as the sick who had escaped from the hospitals, were laid on the banks of the small river Guayra. They found no

Never