Suburban peace, these evenings, is severely disrupted by frequent and loud reports, as the younger generation gleefully anticipates the pyrotechnical delights of bonfire night.
By and large, this noise betokens harmless fun but 400 years ago today there was a great explosion in the midlands. And it was not at all amusing. At 4 a.m. on October 27th, 1697, Athlone Castle was struck by lightning, and the contents of its storerooms unleashed upon the sleeping town the massive power of their destructive capability.
According to a contemporary account, the first sign of trouble was "a dreadful shower of rain, as if a whole cloud had fallen in the street; then broke out continuous lightning without ceasing, so that heaven and earth seemed to be united by the flames". The effect of even direct strike might not have been so serious had not the Castle contained massive stocks of high explosive.
Gunpowder - a mixture of charcoal, sulphur and saltpetre - had been known in this part of the world for several centuries, and by the late 1600s it had revolutionised the art of warfare; it was a vital wherewithal for any military activity, and the magazines within the Castle walls were full.
"In a moment, the magazine took fire, and blew up 260 barrels of powder, 1000 charged hand-grenades with 810 skeins of match, 220 barrels of musket balls and pistol balls, and great quantities of pick-axes, spades, shovels, horse shoes and nails - all of which blew up into the air and covered the whole town and neigh bourhood and the fields for a great distance."
The damage to Athlone was awesome. Sixty-four houses were destroyed outright by the explosion and virtually all of the rest of the town was set on fire by burning debris.
"The poor inhabitants who were generally asleep when this tragical scene began, awakened with the different surprising misfortunes that befell them. Some found themselves buried in the ruins of their own houses; others found their houses in flames over their heads; others were blown from their beds into the streets; and others had their brains knocked out with the fall of great stones, and breaking of hand-grenades in their houses. These stupefying disasters within doors made most of these poor amazed mortals fly to the streets for shelter."
As it turned out, however, human casualties were comparatively few. The official toll was 36 wounded and seven killed, which in the perspective of the times could be treated with a certain nonchalance - and reported as: "None killed of note, save the store-keeper's good lady and his son."