In the middle of the eighteenth century, the south German city of Augsburg was a paradise of goldsmiths, furniture makers, jewelers, and publishers, nearly all of whom seemed to derive their income from making delightful but unnecessary things. The presses of Martin Engelbrecht, one of the city’s leading publishers, churned out an endless stream of prints and books, and developed a specialty in peepshows, which became bestsellers throughout Europe. These sets of prints, six to an envelope, were meant to be like tiny theater sets. When cut out, mounted on stiff paper, and colored, they could slide into a special box with a lens at one end that that gave viewers the sensation that they were peering into another world. Engelbrecht issued the views—of faraway places, historical events, and imaginary scenes—by the hundreds, and they came in various sizes. Because they were designed to be used, it is very unusual to find a set that is in its original condition, uncut, and uncolored. This set, capturing the suspended tumult and terror of an earthquake, is a rare survivor of what these prints looked like before they were prepared for the viewer.

---