Part 19 (2/2)

These proceedings give proof of exquisitely delicate feelings; it is a pity the lightning does not always behave in the same way.

Wires, and particularly bell-wires, make the most agreeable playthings for the lightning, judging from the frequency with which they are struck.

Sometimes, in the middle of a fearful thunderstorm, the doorbell is violently rung; the porter rushes to open the door for the impatient visitor, only to receive a shock of lightning by way of salvo. The mysterious hand which pulled the bell is already far away; but it has left its impress on the bell, and the guiding ray follows the metal wire in all its windings, pa.s.sing through holes no bigger than the head of a pin. The wires are often melted into globules, and scattered around in all directions.

The Abbe Richard has seen globules from a bell-wire fall into coffee cups, and become embedded in the porcelain, without the latter being any the worse.

Metal wires supporting espaliers and vines are often compromising to the safety of their neighbourhood, especially when they are against a house.

Without renouncing the succulent peach, or the golden cha.s.selas grapes, propped on espaliers, we ought to see that they are so arranged that they do not act as lightning-conductors to our habitation.

In August, 1868, in a farm amongst the mountains near Lyons, lightning fell at a distance of about fifteen metres from a dwelling where there were four people; the meteor, conducted by the wire supporting a vine on a trellis, followed it into the house, and knocked the four people down.

One could almost believe that lightning takes a certain pleasure in looking at its diaphanous and fugitive form in the mirrors hung as ornaments in our drawing-rooms.

In 1889, a very coquettish flash of lightning rushed to a mirror, breaking more than ten openings in the gilt frame. Then it evaporated the gilding, spreading it over the surface of the gla.s.s, while on the silvered back the evaporation of this latter metal produced the most beautiful electric traceries.

Sometimes the tinfoil or pieces of melted gla.s.s are thrown to a great distance; and at times the fusion of the gla.s.s is so complete that the _debris_ hangs down like little stalact.i.tes.

As for the gilding of the frames, it is often carefully removed by the lightning to a distance, and applied to the gilding of objects which were never intended to receive this style of decoration.

It is just the same with the gilding on clocks, cornices, church ornaments, etc.

There are innumerable examples coming under this category. Here are a few:--

On March 15, at Naples, lightning flashed through the rooms of Lord Tylney, who was holding a reception that evening. More than five hundred were present; without any person being injured, the lightning took the gilding clean off cornices, curtain-poles, couches, and door-posts; then it shook its booty in a fine gold dust over the guests and the floor.

On June 4, 1797, lightning struck the steeple of Philippshofen in Bohemia, and went off with the gold of the clock, to gild the lead in the chapel window.

In 1761, it went into the church of the Academical College in Vienna, and took the gold from the cornice of one of the altar pillars to put it on a silver vase.

It seems difficult for lightning to resist the attraction of gildings.

It was reported that when a house in the Rue Plumet in Paris was struck in 1767, among several frames hanging in a room, the spark only touched one which was gilt. None of the others were struck.

In spite of this extraordinarily independent behaviour, lightning has not so much liberty of action as we might be tempted to believe; it obeys certain laws which are not yet defined, and its gestures, although apparently wild and capricious, are not the result of fortuitous circ.u.mstances. To allude to it as chance may serve as a refuge from ignorance, but it does not, any more than we can, explain the extraordinary phenomena.

Why are certain organic or non-organic bodies visited repeatedly by lightning? We need not have recourse to magic to explain.

It is simply because they serve as favourable conductors for the fluid.

One of the best-known examples of this kind is that of the church of Antrasme. It was struck by lightning in 1752. It melted the gold of the picture frames adorning the sanctuary, blackened the edges of the niches in which the images stood, scorched the pewter vases enclosed in a press in the sacristy; then, lastly, it made two very neat holes at the end of a side chapel, by which it took its departure. The traces of this disaster were removed with all haste, but twelve years later, on June 20, 1764, the lightning returned to the charge. It penetrated the church for the second time, but the most remarkable fact is, that it worked havoc similar to that done on its first visit. Again the sacred picture-frames were despoiled of their gilding, the niches of the saints blackened, the pewter vases scorched, and the two holes in the chapel reopened. What demon guided the lightning in these scenes of pillage? The end of the story gives us the clue. Soon after the catastrophe the use of the lightning-conductor became general throughout the whole world. The church was put under the protection of a rod of iron, after the principles of Franklin, and ever since lightning allows the faithful to pray in peace within the sanctuary, and has never returned to profane the church at Antrasme.

Such incidents are of fairly frequent occurrence; they give us a chance of understanding the supposed preferences of lightning.

In the last chapter we shall see curious cases of ”galvanoplasty,” of the nature of the following: amongst others, that of a piece of gold in a purse, which was silvered over with silver taken out of another part of the purse, through the leather of the compartment.

What a trick of prestidigitation! On our music-hall stages this turn would have a great success.

<script>