Chapter II
Early in the morning of a sultry day in August, he left Mettingen, to goto the city. He had seldom passed a day from home since his return fromthe shores of the Ohio. Some urgent engagements at this time existed,which would not admit of further delay. He returned in the evening, butappeared to be greatly oppressed with fatigue. His silence and dejectionwere likewise in a more than ordinary degree conspicuous. My mother'sbrother, whose profession was that of a surgeon, chanced to spend thisnight at our house. It was from him that I have frequently received anexact account of the mournful catastrophe that followed.
As the evening advanced, my father's inquietudes increased. He sat withhis family as usual, but took no part in their conversation. He appearedfully engrossed by his own reflections. Occasionally his countenanceexhibited tokens of alarm; he gazed stedfastly and wildly at theceiling; and the exertions of his companions were scarcely sufficientto interrupt his reverie. On recovering from these fits, he expressed nosurprize; but pressing his hand to his head, complained, in a tremulousand terrified tone, that his brain was scorched to cinders. He wouldthen betray marks of insupportable anxiety.
My uncle perceived, by his pulse, that he was indisposed, but in noalarming degree, and ascribed appearances chiefly to the workings of hismind. He exhorted him to recollection and composure, but in vain. At thehour of repose he readily retired to his chamber. At the persuasion ofmy mother he even undressed and went to bed. Nothing could abate hisrestlessness. He checked her tender expostulations with some sternness."Be silent," said he, "for that which I feel there is but one cure,and that will shortly come. You can help me nothing. Look to your owncondition, and pray to God to strengthen you under the calamities thatawait you." "What am I to fear?" she answered. "What terrible disasteris it that you think of?" "Peace--as yet I know it not myself, but comeit will, and shortly." She repeated her inquiries and doubts; but hesuddenly put an end to the discourse, by a stern command to be silent.
She had never before known him in this mood. Hitherto all was benign inhis deportment. Her heart was pierced with sorrow at the contemplationof this change. She was utterly unable to account for it, or to figureto herself the species of disaster that was menaced.
Contrary to custom, the lamp, instead of being placed on the hearth, wasleft upon the table. Over it against the wall there hung a small clock,so contrived as to strike a very hard stroke at the end of every sixthhour. That which was now approaching was the signal for retiring to thefane at which he addressed his devotions. Long habit had occasioned himto be always awake at this hour, and the toll was instantly obeyed.
Now frequent and anxious glances were cast at the clock. Not a singlemovement of the index appeared to escape his notice. As the hour vergedtowards twelve his anxiety visibly augmented. The trepidations of mymother kept pace with those of her husband; but she was intimidatedinto silence. All that was left to her was to watch every change of hisfeatures, and give vent to her sympathy in tears.
At length the hour was spent, and the clock tolled. The sound appearedto communicate a shock to every part of my father's frame. He roseimmediately, and threw over himself a loose gown. Even this officewas performed with difficulty, for his joints trembled, and his teethchattered with dismay. At this hour his duty called him to the rock, andmy mother naturally concluded that it was thither he intended to repair.Yet these incidents were so uncommon, as to fill her with astonishmentand foreboding. She saw him leave the room, and heard his steps as theyhastily descended the stairs. She half resolved to rise and pursue him,but the wildness of the scheme quickly suggested itself. He was goingto a place whither no power on earth could induce him to suffer anattendant.
The window of her chamber looked toward the rock. The atmosphere wasclear and calm, but the edifice could not be discovered at that distancethrough the dusk. My mother's anxiety would not allow her to remainwhere she was. She rose, and seated herself at the window. She strainedher sight to get a view of the dome, and of the path that led to it. Thefirst painted itself with sufficient distinctness on her fancy, butwas undistinguishable by the eye from the rocky mass on which it waserected. The second could be imperfectly seen; but her husband hadalready passed, or had taken a different direction.
What was it that she feared? Some disaster impended over her husband orherself. He had predicted evils, but professed himself ignorant of whatnature they were. When were they to come? Was this night, or this hourto witness the accomplishment? She was tortured with impatience, anduncertainty. All her fears were at present linked to his person, and shegazed at the clock, with nearly as much eagerness as my father had done,in expectation of the next hour.
An half hour passed away in this state of suspence. Her eyes were fixedupon the rock; suddenly it was illuminated. A light proceeding from theedifice, made every part of the scene visible. A gleam diffused itselfover the intermediate space, and instantly a loud report, like theexplosion of a mine, followed. She uttered an involuntary shriek, butthe new sounds that greeted her ear, quickly conquered her surprise.They were piercing shrieks, and uttered without intermission. The gleamswhich had diffused themselves far and wide were in a moment withdrawn,but the interior of the edifice was filled with rays.
The first suggestion was that a pistol was discharged, and that thestructure was on fire. She did not allow herself time to meditate asecond thought, but rushed into the entry and knocked loudly at the doorof her brother's chamber. My uncle had been previously roused by thenoise, and instantly flew to the window. He also imagined what he sawto be fire. The loud and vehement shrieks which succeeded the firstexplosion, seemed to be an invocation of succour. The incident wasinexplicable; but he could not fail to perceive the propriety ofhastening to the spot. He was unbolting the door, when his sister'svoice was heard on the outside conjuring him to come forth.
He obeyed the summons with all the speed in his power. He stopped notto question her, but hurried down stairs and across the meadow which laybetween the house and the rock. The shrieks were no longer to be heard;but a blazing light was clearly discernible between the columns of thetemple. Irregular steps, hewn in the stone, led him to the summit. Onthree sides, this edifice touched the very verge of the cliff. On thefourth side, which might be regarded as the front, there was an areaof small extent, to which the rude staircase conducted you. My unclespeedily gained this spot. His strength was for a moment exhaustedby his haste. He paused to rest himself. Meanwhile he bent the mostvigilant attention towards the object before him.
Within the columns he beheld what he could no better describe, thanby saying that it resembled a cloud impregnated with light. It hadthe brightness of flame, but was without its upward motion. It did notoccupy the whole area, and rose but a few feet above the floor. Nopart of the building was on fire. This appearance was astonishing. Heapproached the temple. As he went forward the light retired, and, whenhe put his feet within the apartment, utterly vanished. The suddennessof this transition increased the darkness that succeeded in a tenfolddegree. Fear and wonder rendered him powerless. An occurrence like this,in a place assigned to devotion, was adapted to intimidate the stoutestheart.
His wandering thoughts were recalled by the groans of one near him.His sight gradually recovered its power, and he was able to discern myfather stretched on the floor. At that moment, my mother and servantsarrived with a lanthorn, and enabled my uncle to examine more closelythis scene. My father, when he left the house, besides a loose uppervest and slippers, wore a shirt and drawers. Now he was naked, his skinthroughout the greater part of his body was scorched and bruised. Hisright arm exhibited marks as of having been struck by some heavy body.His clothes had been removed, and it was not immediately perceived thatthey were reduced to ashes. His slippers and his hair were untouched.
He was removed to his chamber, and the requisite attention paid to hiswounds, which gradually became more painful. A mortification speedilyshewed itself in the arm, which had been most hurt. Soon after, theother wounded parts exhibite
d the like appearance.
Immediately subsequent to this disaster, my father seemed nearly ina state of insensibility. He was passive under every operation. Hescarcely opened his eyes, and was with difficulty prevailed upon toanswer the questions that were put to him. By his imperfect account, itappeared, that while engaged in silent orisons, with thoughts fullof confusion and anxiety, a faint gleam suddenly shot athwart theapartment. His fancy immediately pictured to itself, a person bearinga lamp. It seemed to come from behind. He was in the act of turning toexamine the visitant, when his right arm received a blow from a heavyclub. At the same instant, a very bright spark was seen to light uponhis clothes. In a moment, the whole was reduced to ashes. This was thesum of the information which he chose to give. There was somewhat inhis manner that indicated an imperfect tale. My uncle was inclined tobelieve that half the truth had been suppressed.
Meanwhile, the disease thus wonderfully generated, betrayed moreterrible symptoms. Fever and delirium terminated in lethargic slumber,which, in the course of two hours, gave place to death. Yet not tillinsupportable exhalations and crawling putrefaction had driven from hischamber and the house every one whom their duty did not detain.
Such was the end of my father. None surely was ever more mysterious.When we recollect his gloomy anticipations and unconquerable anxiety;the security from human malice which his character, the place, and thecondition of the times, might be supposed to confer; the purity andcloudlessness of the atmosphere, which rendered it impossible thatlightning was the cause; what are the conclusions that we must form?
The prelusive gleam, the blow upon his arm, the fatal spark, theexplosion heard so far, the fiery cloud that environed him, withoutdetriment to the structure, though composed of combustible materials,the sudden vanishing of this cloud at my uncle's approach--what is theinference to be drawn from these facts? Their truth cannot be doubted.My uncle's testimony is peculiarly worthy of credit, because no man'stemper is more sceptical, and his belief is unalterably attached tonatural causes.
I was at this time a child of six years of age. The impressions thatwere then made upon me, can never be effaced. I was ill qualified tojudge respecting what was then passing; but as I advanced in age, andbecame more fully acquainted with these facts, they oftener became thesubject of my thoughts. Their resemblance to recent events revived themwith new force in my memory, and made me more anxious to explain them.Was this the penalty of disobedience? this the stroke of a vindictiveand invisible hand? Is it a fresh proof that the Divine Ruler interferesin human affairs, meditates an end, selects, and commissions his agents,and enforces, by unequivocal sanctions, submission to his will? Or, wasit merely the irregular expansion of the fluid that imparts warmth toour heart and our blood, caused by the fatigue of the preceding day, orflowing, by established laws, from the condition of his thoughts? [*]
* A case, in its symptoms exactly parallel to this, is published in one of the Journals of Florence. See, likewise, similar cases reported by Messrs. Merille and Muraire, in the "Journal de Medicine," for February and May, 1783. The researches of Maffei and Fontana have thrown some light upon this subject.