of a century, employed a thousand hands to produce, was in a short time, and by very few, defaced and destroyed.  The strongest iron doors to the vaults were broken open, the walls stripped of their decorations and emblems of mourning, the last tributes of grief and affection annihilated, and every atom of wood thrown into the watch-fire; so that the living could no longer know where to look for the remains of the deceased objects of their love.  The elegant rails, with which the generality of the graves were encompassed, for the most part disappeared, and the only vestiges of them to be found were their ashes, or the relics of the reeking brands of the watch-fire.  On the 19th this wretched bulwark also was stormed, and thrown down as easily as a fowler’s net.  The carcasses of horses now replaced upon the graves the monuments of mourning for the peaceful dead.  After the battle part of the French prisoners were confined in this place.  The church of St. John, which stands in it, had, as early as the month of May, been converted into an hospital, which, ever since the beginning of October, was crowded with sick.  It could hold no more; the sick and prisoners were therefore intermingled, and lay down pell-mell among the graves.  What had hitherto been spared was now completely destroyed.  In this case, indeed, dire necessity pleaded a sufficient excuse.  Who could find fault with Distress and Despair if they resorted to the only means that could afford them the slightest alleviation?  Who could grudge them a shelter in the cold autumnal nights, even though they sought it in the dreary abode of mouldering corpses?  Every vault which it was possible for them to open was converted into a chamber and dwelling-place, which at least was preferable to a couch between hillocks soaked with rain or covered with hoar frost.  They descended into the deepest graves, broke open the coffins, and ejected their tenants, to procure fire-wood to warm their frozen limbs.  I myself saw a French soldier who had fallen among a heap of coffins piled up to the height of more than twelve feet; and, unable to clamber up again, had probably lain there several days, and been added by Death to the number of his former victims.  The appearance of the skulls, before so carefully concealed from the view of the living, now thrown out of the coffins into the graves, was truly ghastly.

In spite of all the exertion of the new authorities, appointed by the allies to alleviate the general misery, it was utterly impossible for any human power to restore order in the horrid chaos which the French had left behind them.  A severe want of all necessaries was felt in the city; the circumjacent villages, far and wide, were plundered and laid waste.  From them, of course, no supply could be obtained.  More than thirty hospitals were not capable of receiving all the sick and wounded who applied for admission.  Where were to be found buildings sufficiently spacious, mattresses, bedding, utensils, provisions, and the