"Brousses-et-Villaret (Aude), August 20. During the storm which burst over that region the lightning killed two cows belonging to M.

Bouchere. It also struck, but without hurting him, a young man of twenty-three years of age, Bernard Robart, artilleryman, who was taking a holiday. He was walking to a neighbouring farm when he was suddenly carried through the air for fifty yards. He got up again without any hurt, only he was dazzled by the lightning which had flashed before his eyes."

On writing to the victim to verify this fact, I received the following answer:--

"I have the honour to inform you that the article relating to the incident which happened to me during the lightning, on the 17th, is absolutely true.

"I was on leave at Brousses, Canton of Saissac (Aude). I left my uncle"s house at about 8 p.m. There had been a heavy storm. The rain had nearly stopped for about two or three minutes, but it still fell a little. There had been a good deal of thunder during the storm. I was sleeping at home, the house being about two hundred yards away. It was very dark, and seeing that the rain was going to begin again with violence, I started to run. I went very quick. I was crossing the Place, and when I arrived in front of M. Combes" house, I suddenly felt myself stopped, and without being able to explain how, I found myself in the same instant at the other side of the Place, lying on the ground against the wall of M.

Maistre"s house. I was astounded; I waited a good minute without knowing where I was. When I got home I felt a severe pain in the right knee, and I perceived that my trousers were torn and that I had a big scar on my knee, and that my hands were slightly scorched. It must have happened against the wall where there were some loose stones. I was transported about fifty yards, and I cannot tell you if it thundered at the same time, but there had been a big clap about a minute before. Two people who were leaving M. Combes" house were witness of the fact. The lightning penetrated into M.

Bouchere"s stables two hundred yards away, and killed two cows and broke the leg of another. As it went in it broke the cover of the doorway, which was of freestone, in two, and knocked over a chair and seven or eight bottles which were on a shelf.

"Believe me, etc.,

"BERNARD ROBERT, "Artilleryman, Fort Saint Nicholas, "Ma.r.s.eilles."

Thus we have several examples of people being transported 20, 30, and 50 yards from the point where the lightning has struck them.

Sometimes the bodies of people who are struck are as stiff as iron and retain their stiffness.

On June 30, 1854, a waggoner, thirty-five years of age, was struck in Paris. The next day Dr. Sestier saw his corpse at the Morgue: it was perfectly stiff. The next day, forty-four hours after the death, this stiffness was still most marked.

Some years ago, in the Commune of Hectomare (Eure), lightning struck a man named Delabarre, who was holding a piece of bread in his hand.

The contractility of the nerves was so strong that it could not be taken from him.

On the other hand, the bodies very often remain flexible after death, as in life.

On September 17, 1780, a violent storm burst over Eastbourne. A coachman and footman were killed. "Although the bodies remained from Sunday to Tuesday unburied," remarked an observer, "all their limbs were as flexible as those of living people."

Sometimes the corpses soften and decompose rapidly, leaving an unbearable odour.

On June 15, 1794, lightning killed a lady in a ballroom at Fribourg.

The corpse rapidly gave forth a curious odour of putrefaction. The doctor could hardly examine it without fainting. The inhabitants of the house were obliged to go away thirty-six hours after the death, the odour was so penetrating. It was with difficulty that they were able to put the fetid corpse into a coffin. It fell to pieces.

The flabbiness often observed in the bodies of people who are struck is due, no doubt, to the fact that in the case of enormous discharge, the stiffness of a dead body develops so quickly, and is of such a short duration, that it may escape observation.

Numbers of experiments made on animals justify this hypothesis.

Nevertheless, in the majority of cases, bodies which have been struck decompose rapidly, which explains quite naturally the softness of bodies killed by lightning.

The colouration of these presents numerous varieties; sometimes the face is of a corpse-like paleness, at others it preserves its natural colour.

In many cases, the face is livid, red, violet, violet-bronze, black, yellow, and even covered over with brown or blue spots.

The colouration of the face may be extended over all or nearly all the body.

The eight reapers who were killed under an oak, quoted by Cardan in our first example, were quite black.

That the subtle fluid acc.u.mulated in great ma.s.ses in the clouds should kill a man, deprive him of movement, annihilate his faculties, or slightly wound him--this ought not to astonish us when we contemplate the marvellous results and the prodigies of strength accomplished by the much more feeble electricity of our laboratories.

But the extraordinary point about lightning is its variety of action.

Why does it not invariably kill those it strikes? and why does it sometimes not even wound them?

There are inexplicable subtleties in the world.

One knows of many examples of people who are struck whose garments remain absolutely intact. The imponderable fluid insinuates itself through the garments, leaving no trace of its pa.s.sage, and may cause grave disorders in the body of a man without any exterior mark to reveal it to the most perspicacious observer.

We hear of the case of a man who had nearly the whole of his right side burnt from the arm to the foot, as though it had been for a long time too near a quick fire, but his shirt, his pants, and the rest of his clothes were untouched by the fire.

The Abbe Pinel gives the case of a man who, amongst other injuries, had his right foot very badly lacerated, while the left was untouched; the right sabot was untouched, and the left was broken.

On June 10, 1895, at Bellenghise, near Saint-Quentin, a lady was killed under a tree: she had deep marks of burning on the breast and stomach, but her clothes remained intact. Lightning is very mystifying.

Th. Neale cites a case where the hands were burnt to the bone in gloves which remained intact!

At other times, garments, even those nearest the skin, are perforated, burnt, and torn, without the surface of the skin being injured.

Thus the boot of a man who had been struck was so torn that it was reduced to ashes, while there was no trace of a wound on the foot.

An extraordinary case in point happened at Vabreas (Vaucluse) in July, 1873. A peasant was in the fields when there was a violent clap of thunder. The electric fluid struck his head, shaved the left side, and completely burnt his hat. Then, continuing its route, it tore his garments, penetrated the length of his legs, and tore his trousers from top to bottom. Finally, it transported the unfortunate man, nearly naked, six or seven yards from his original place, and laid him on his stomach on a bush with his head hanging over the edge of a river.

Sometimes, when the garments are seriously injured, we find slight injuries under the skin which do not always correspond to the places where the garment is most seriously affected.

Lichtenberg quotes the case of a man who had his clothes cut as by the point of a knife from the shoulders to the feet, without the sign of a wound except a small sore on the foot under the buckle of the shoe.

According to Howard, a man had his clothes torn to atoms without showing any trace of the action of the electric fluid on the surface of his body, except a light mark on the forehead.

Sometimes, as we have already said, the inner garments are burnt while the outer ones are respected.

A woman had her chemise scorched by the fire of heaven, while her dress and petticoats were spared.

On June 14, 1774, lightning fell at Poitiers in a yard where a young cooper was working. It went under his right foot, burning his shoe, pa.s.sed between his stocking and leg, singed the stocking without wounding the leg, burned the lining of his trousers, raised the epidermis of the abdomen, tore off a bra.s.s b.u.t.ton which fastened his garment, and went off to twist a carpenter round in a neighbouring lane. Neither one nor the other felt the effects of this stroke of lightning.

Finally, the clothes, above all the shoes, are unsewn carefully and without a tear, as though by the hand of a clever workman.

Here are two cases in a thousand--

On June 18, 1872, at Grange Forestiere, near Pet.i.t-Creusot, a man had his trousers unsewn from top to bottom and his shoes taken off.

In the department of Eure-et-Loire, some peasants were engaged in binding sheaves, and their daughter, aged nine, was playing near them when a storm broke with great violence.

"Let us go in, I am frightened," she cried, running to take refuge between her parents.

"We will go in immediately, but we must finish binding before the rain comes on."

"Then I will beg of the Good G.o.d to keep the thunder from us."

"Do."

And while the father and mother continued their work, the child went down on her knees, and with her hands over her eyes commenced her prayer.