cimen of Italian architecture of the
seventeenth century, and containing some incomparable pictures by the
Italian masters, and a _chef-d'oeuvre_ of Rubens, had been set on fire
by a bomb, and was now in a blaze from battlement to ground. The next
intelligence was still more painful. The principal convent of the city,
which was close in its rear, had taken fire, and the unfortunate nuns
were seen at the windows in the most imminent danger of perishing.
Feeble as I was, I immediately rose. The Beguine rushed in at the
moment, wringing her hands and uttering the wildest cries of terror at
the probable destruction of those unhappy women. I volunteered my
services, which were accepted, and I hurried out to assist in saving
them if possible. The spectacle was overwhelming.

The Hotel de Ville was a large and nearly insulated building, with a
kind of garden-walk round three of its sides, which was now filled with
the populace. The garrison exhibited all the activity of the national
character in their efforts to extinguish the flames. Scaling-ladders
were applied to the windows, men mounted them thick as bees;
fire-buckets were passed from hand to hand, for the fire-engines had
been long since destroyed by the cannonade; and there seemed to be some
hope of saving the structure, when a succession of agonizing screams
fixed every eye on the convent, where the fire had found its way to the
stores of wood and oil, and shot up like the explosion of gunpowder. The
efforts of the troops were now turned to save the convent; but the
intense fury of the flame defeated every attempt. The scaling-ladders no
sooner touched the casements than they took fire; the very walls were so
hot that none could approach them; and every new gust swept down a sheet
of flame, which put the multitude to flight in all directions. Artillery
was now brought out to breach the walls; but while there remained a
hundred and fifty human beings within, it was impossible to make use of
the guns. All efforts at length ceased; and the horror was deepened, if
such could be, by seeing now and then a distracted figure rush to a
casement, toss up her arms to heaven, and then rush back again with a
howl of despair.

I proposed to the French officers that they should dig under the
foundations, and thus open a way of escape through the vaults. The
attempt was made, but it had the ill success of all the rest. The walls
were too massive for our strength, and the pickaxe and