Death by Golden Thunderbolt
In the archives of the Royal Society is a 17th-century scientific paper by the natural philosopher John Aubrey, in which he describes extreme weather events. One of the most extreme was the 'tempest at Loughton in Cheshire' in 1649 which occurred during divine service one Sunday. According to Aubrey, while the parish was at prayer, ‘a purplish nubecula’ (a small cloud) entered the church. The cloud burst forth like ‘Aurum fulminax’ and produced a golden thunderbolt. This bolt was devastating, and the account states that it ‘killed and hurt many with spotts and holes.’ Those who were only injured by the force of the discharge attempted various medical treatments to alleviate their 'spotts and holes', but these remedies only made their injuries worse. Eventually, they discovered that applying milk provided relief and helped to heal their wounds. So ends Aubrey's narrative.
The incident was likely reported to Aubrey, one of many pieces of information sent to him, or recorded by him from conversation, part of his four decades of research into the natural world, and perhaps the reason why one or two of the details are erroneous. The year was 1652, not 1649, and the location was Church Lawton in Cheshire. Digging into the parish registers at All Saints, Church Lawton, it appears that the events were, indeed, both extreme and deadly. The minister recorded the burial of eleven men and boys on 21 June 1652, noting in Latin that they had died suddenly struck by lightning (‘subito fulmine percussi’) during the service the previous Sunday in the belltower and the lower section of the nave of the church.
Four days after the burial of the victims, the minister, Randall Sillito provided a fuller account to Mercurius Politicus, a weekly newsbook, detailing the tragic events. On the day, a thunderstorm raged during the church service. The church was filled to capacity, and the congregation was using the tower at the back for extra space. Randall was reading out a portion of scripture when there was a sudden noise like 'the discharge of many muskets at once, and a sudden flash of fire'. For a moment, it 'dazzled' his eyes and caused him to stoop. There was a sound from a dog in the tower, a boy cried, and the congregation became agitated. Initially, Randall received word that a dog had died, but he was soon informed of the tragic news that several members of the congregation had lost their lives. 'I spoke to the people and intreated them to be still'. The words appeared to calm his flock, as Randall continued the service while 'some carried out their friends very silently.'
According to the cleric, only one of the deceased showed any visible injuries, although some had scorched clothing. He believed that all had been ‘stricken immediately dead’. Some of the congregation had been scorched by the lightning, but there was no mention of ‘spotts and holes’, or wounds failing to heal, rather Randall stated some were ‘quickly well’, while others suffered but only for a day or two. He ended his account by naming each of his dead parishioners and providing a little biographical detail.
Aubrey's retelling of the tragedy contained some embellishments and inaccuracies—the golden thunderbolt and mysterious wounds that only milk could heal. The differing accounts between his scientific one and Randall Sillito's firsthand testimony, is a reminder that historical records are inevitably shaped by the perspectives, beliefs, and purposes of those who record them.