In 1903 I made notes of several cases of this kind, from which I shall quote the two following:—
On June 2, a labourer from the hamlet of Pair, commune of Taintrux (Vosges), aged forty, was sharpening a scythe in an orchard close to his house. Suddenly a terrific clap of thunder was heard, and the unfortunate man fell down stone dead.
On the following day, in the same region, at Uzemain, not far from Epinal, a young man, twenty-eight years of age, went to get grass in the country. All at once he was struck by lightning, and his horse, which he was holding by the bridle, as well. The poor fellow had been guilty of the imprudence of putting his scythe on the cart with its point in the air.
On May 27, in the Vosges, the lightning fell on a labourer, Cyrille Bégin, who was driving a cart to which were yoked four horses. The unhappy man was struck, as well as two of the horses.
Some authorities have attributed a doubly preservative influence to umbrellas. The first is undoubtedly to shelter us from the rain; the second, more doubtful, is the gift of preserving us to a certain extent from the strokes of the terrible meteor. Silk, having the property of a veritable repulsion to lightning, one might really believe that umbrellas, whose covers are often made of this fabric, are protectors against the fire of heaven. But the records which we possess are not conclusive; if, now and then, the discharge becomes distributed by means of the ribs, it also very often happens that it runs along the metal parts of the handle to whatever pieces of metal may be on the person, finally striking the soil through the human body.
On July 13, 1884, in the province of Liége, a man and a woman sheltering under the same umbrella were struck by lightning. The man was killed instantly. His garments were in tatters, and the soles torn from his shoes. His pipe was thrown twenty yards away, as well as the artificial flowers in his companion's hat. The latter, who was carrying the umbrella, was stunned.
At a season when, as a rule, thunder is not dreaded—December 9, 1884, to wit—two men, who were walking on either side of a schoolboy holding an umbrella, were killed by lightning. The child was merely thrown down, and got off with a few trifling wounds.
In each of these cases, the person who carried the umbrella suffered less from the electric discharge, but did not escape altogether, nevertheless. It may be remarked, also, that the chief victims were just under the points of the frame, and that in all probability the electricity passed through these points.
The fusion of metals is one of the lightning's most ordinary performances; it has occurred at times in considerable quantities.
On April 2, 1807, a fulminant discharge struck the windmill at Great Marton, in Lancashire. A thick iron chain, used for hoisting up the corn, must have been, if not actually melted, at any rate considerably softened. Indeed, the links were dragged downwards by the weight of the lower part, and meeting, became soldered in such a way that, after the stroke of lightning, the chain was a veritable bar of iron.