During the formidable magnetic tempest of the 31st October, telegraphic and telephonic communication were interrupted in many parts of the world. In fact, the phenomenon was observed all over the surface of the globe. From nine o'clock in the morning, till four in the afternoon, the old world and the new were strangers to one another. Not a word nor a thought crossed the ocean; the submarine cables were paralyzed on account of solar disturbances. In France, communication between the principal towns and the frontiers was interrupted. During this time the sun was in a condition of violent agitation, and its surface vibrated with intense heat. In such times the subtle fluid profits by the confusion to glide noiselessly along the paths which are open to it. But he does not always wait for these favourable opportunities.
Let a thunder-cloud pass over the telegraph wires, either noiselessly or hurling petards in all directions, the line will be affected. The fluid imprisoned in the sky will act by induction on the electricity of the wires which will result in the vibration of the latter, accompanied sometimes by a flash of lightning. These phenomena may cause grave accidents to the telegraph clerks, unless they are on their guard against the treachery of the lightning. These mute discharges happen frequently, but the spark strikes the telegraph wires often, too, as well as the apparatus in the office. All sorts of accidents result from these repeated attacks.
We know, for instance, how the birds fall victims to the lightning when they alight on the telegraph wires after a thunderstorm; they are often found dead hanging by their claws.
But the fluid acts on man also, through the medium of the wires.
Thus, on April 13, 1863, a telegraph clerk was engaged with several other employees repairing some telegraph wires in the station at Pontarlier, when all at once they felt, at the knee-joints more particularly, a violent shock which made them bend their legs as if they had been struck with a stick; one of them was even thrown down. No doubt the fluid reached the wires, which in those remote parts was in charge of the clerks.
On September 8, 1848, during a violent thunderstorm, two telegraph poles were thrown down at Zara in Dalmatia. Two hours later, as they were being set up again, a couple of artillerymen, having seized the wire, felt slight electric shocks, then suddenly found themselves flat on the ground. Both had their hands burnt; one indeed, gave no sign of life; the other, in trying to raise himself up, fell back as soon as his arm came in contact with that of one of his comrades, who ran to his assistance on hearing him cry for help. The latter thrown down in turn, felt his nerves tingle, and giddiness seize him, with singing in his ears. When his arm was uncovered, there was a superficial burn just on the spot where he had been touched.
On May 9, 1867, lightning fell on the road from Bastogne to Houffalize (Luxembourg), attracted by the telegraph wire, which it destroyed for about a kilometre. At a certain part, and over a length of about twenty metres, the wire was cut in small pieces, three or four centimetres long, which were scattered over the ground, and were as black and as fragile as charcoal. The poles which supported them, and several poplars planted on the same side of the road, were more or less damaged.
It has been observed that trees planted on the same side as a telegraph line were sometimes blasted on a level with the wires. It is the same with houses near the copper threads along which human thoughts take wing. Thus, at Chateauneuf-Martignes, on August 25, 1900, lightning destroyed the telegraph poles on the outskirts of the railway-station. A severe shock, like an electrical discharge, was felt at the same moment by two people who were in bed, not far from where the wire was fixed in the wall of the house, which was a very low one. The same phenomenon had been felt there already.
In the railway-stations, as well as in the telegraph and telephone offices, curious results of the spark passing at a certain distance, or even in the immediate neighbourhood, are sometimes observed.
On May 17, 1852, towards five o'clock, the sky looking overcast, the station-master at Havre warned his colleague at Beuzeville that it would be well to put his apparatus in connection with the ground. Beuzeville is twenty-five kilometres away from Havre, and at the former station the weather then did not look at all threatening. But clouds soon piled up, driven before a violent wind. Suddenly three awful peals of thunder succeeded each other in quick succession. With the last, lightning struck a farm about a kilometre from the station, and at the same moment a globe of fire of a reddish brown, and apparently about the size of a small bomb-shell, rose as if out of a clump of trees. It glided through the air like an aerolite, and leaving behind it a train of light. At a hundred metres or so from the station, it alighted like a bird on the telegraph wires, then disappeared with the rapidity of lightning, leaving no trace of its passage, either on the wires or the station. But at Beuzeville several interesting phenomena were observed. Firstly, the needles turned rapidly, with a grating noise like that of a turnspit suddenly running down, or like a grindstone sharpening iron, which emits sparks. A great number, indeed, flew out of the apparatus. One of the needles, that on the Rouen side, went out of order; all the screws on that part of the instrument were unscrewed, and on the copper dial near the axis of the needle, there was a hole through which one could pass a grain of corn.