The Infant's Skull; Or, The End of the World. A Tale of the Millennium — John Stuart Mill — John Shaqi
The Infant's Skull; Or, The End of the World. A Tale of the Millennium
John Stuart Mill · en
As a consequence of this universal panic, the last days of the year 999
presented a spectacle never before seen; it was even fabulous!
Light-headed indulgence and groans; peals of laughter and lamentations;
maudlin songs and death dirges. Here the shouts and the frantic dances
of supposed last and supreme orgies; yonder the lamentations of pious
canticles. And finally, floating above this vast mass of terror, rose
the formidable popular curiosity to see the spectacle of the destruction
of the world. It came at last, that day said to have been prophesied by
St. John the Divine! The last hour arrived, the last minute of that
fated year of 999! "Tremble, ye sinners!" the warning redoubled;
"tremble, ye peoples of the earth! the terrible moment foretold in the
holy books is here!" One more second, one more instant, midnight
sounds--and the year 1000 begins.
In the expectation of that fatal instant, the most hardened hearts, the
souls most certain of salvation, the dullest and also the most
rebellious minds experienced a sensation that never had and never will
have a name in any language--
Midnight sounded!... The solemn hour.... Midnight!
The year 1000 began!
Oh, wonder and surprise!... The dead did not leave their tombs, the
bowels of the earth did not open, the waters of the ocean remained
within their basins, the stars of heaven were not hurled out of their
orbits and were not striking against one another in space. Aye, there
was not even a tame flash of lightning! No thunder rolled! No trace of
the cloud of fire in the midst of which the Eternal was to appear.
Jehovah remained invisible. Not one of the frightful prodigies foretold
by St. John the Divine for midnight of the year 1000 was verified. The
night was calm and serene; the moon and stars shone brilliantly in the
azure sky, not a breath of wind agitated the tops of the trees, and the
people, in the silence of their stupor, could hear the slightest ripple
of the mountain streams gliding under the grass. Dawn came ... and day
... and the sun poured upon creation the torrents of its light! As to
miracles, not a trace of any!