"It kept getting hotter, an unbearable heat, the summers were like hells, and the villagers found no relief even in the streams and lakes, which had become as warm as broth. Some said these were signs of the imminent end of the world. Expert scientists mumbled incomprehensible and frightening psalms, which made the priests more popular, increasingly sought after by weeping faithful looking to save their souls. When summer ended, everything returned to normal. It had been the usual hot summer like every year. The priests and the men of science had grown rich, skillfully mixing superstition and fear. Then the usual winter would arrive as always."
François Rabelais (1542) once said they shot to break the hail, perhaps they were right... Perhaps.