Once upon a time, one of this earth's earlier scientists pronounced, or enunciated, or he told a story, which was somewhat reasonable, of a flood, and of all the animals of this earth saved, as species, in a big boat. Perhaps the story was not meant seriously by its author, but was a satire upon the ambitious
boat-builders of his day. It is probable that all religions are founded upon ancient jokes and hoaxes. But, considering the relative fewness of the animals that were known to the scientists, or the satirists, of that early time, this story was as plausible as the science, or as the best satire, of any time. However data of such a host of animals piled up that the story of the big boat lost its plausibility.
Note that our data are upon events of which the founders of the present so-called science of astronomy knew little, or knew nothing. Orthodox astronomy has been systematized, without considering new stars, their phenomena and indications. It is a big-boat story. Once upon a time it was plausible. It is in the position of the orthodox geology of former times, when a doctrine was formulated without consideration for fossils and sedimentary rocks. But, when fossils and sedimentary rocks were incorporated, they forced a radical readjustment. New stars were not taken into the so-called science of astronomy, by the builders of that system, because no astronomer ever saw, or reported, a new star, between the years 1670 and 1848. Presumably new stars have not started appearing all at once in modern times. Presumably, in this period of 178 years, many new stars appeared, and were not seen, though we shall have data for thinking that some of them shone night after night with the brilliance of first magnitude. One would like to know what, when time after time, the sky was probably spectacular with a new light, the astronomers were doing, in these 178 years. We may be able to answer that question, if we can find out what the astronomers are doing now.
There is not agreement among the wisemen. Virtually there is, by the wisemen of our tribes, no explanation of new stars. The collision-theory is heard of most.
Always—provided there have been little boys and other amateurs to inform them—the wise ones tell of stars that have collided. They have never told of stars that are going to collide.
Why is a story always of stars that have collided? Assuming now that, instead of being points in a revolving shell, stars are swiftly moving bodies, there must be instances of stars that are going to collide, some days, weeks, or years from any given time.
Jan. 5, 1892—just such a fiery blast as has often torn down the slopes of Vesuvius, shot across the State of Georgia. It was "a black tornado, filled with fire" (Chicago Tribune, January 7). About this time, there were shocks in Italy, and, in the evening, people in many parts of New York State were looking up and wondering at a glare in the sky. The next day they had something else to wonder about. There were shocks in New York State. Upon the 8th, dust that was perhaps volcanic, but that had probably been discharged from no volcano of this earth, fell from the sky, in Northern Indiana. 14th—"tidal wave" in the Atlantic, and a shock, at Memphis, Tennessee. Snow fell in Mobile, Alabama, where there had been only four falls of snow in seventy years. Floods in New There was a new star. In all the Observatories of this earth, not a professional astronomer had observed anything out of the ordinary: but, in Edinburgh, a man who knew nothing of astronomical technicalities (Nature, 45365) looked up at the sky, and saw the new star, night of February 1st. Throughout this period of the glares and the shocks and the seeming volcanic discharges, a new star, or a new celestial volcano, had been shining in the constellation Auriga. The amateur, Dr. Anderson, told the professionals. They examined photographs, and learned that they had been photographing the new star since December 1st. The look of data is that volcanic dust drifted from a new star to the sky of this earth, in Indiana, in not more than 39 days. For four hours, upon the 8th of January, dust came down from the sky, in Northern Indiana, and if it did come from regions external to this earth, it came settling down, hour after hour, as if to a point upon a stationary earth. I have searched in many scientific periodicals, and in newspapers of all continents, finding record of no volcanic eruption upon this earth, by which to explain. La Nature, 41-206—that this dust had been analyzed, and had been identified as of volcanic origin. Science, 21-303—that this dust had been analyzed, and had been identified as not of volcanic origin. I have records of five other new stars, which, from Dec. 21, 1896, to Aug. 10, 1899, appeared at times of disturbances upon this earth; times of deluges and of volcanic discharges that cannot be attributed to terrestrial volcanoes. Two of the discoveries were made by amateurs. The other discoveries were made by professionals, who, with nothing at all resembling celerity, learned, by examining photographic plates, that new stars that had been looked at by astronomers had been recorded by cameras. The period of one of these incelerities was eleven years. See Nature, 85-248. Star after star has appeared, as a minute point, or as a magnificent sight in the heavens, and the professional astronomers have been un-observatory. They have been notified by amateurs. We shall have records of youngsters who have seen what they were not observing. The first of the bright infants, of whom I have record, is Seth Chandler, of Boston. I have it that anybody who is only 19 years old, or, for that matter, 29, is a youngster. Seth was 19 years old. Upon May 12, 1866, an amateur astronomer, named Birmingham, at Tuam, Ireland, notified the professional astronomers, who were looking somewhere else, that there was a new star in the constellation Corona Borealis. In the United States, the professional astronomers were busily engaged looking in other directions. Upon the night of the 14th, Seth Chandler interrupted their observations, telling them that there was something to look at. For any pessimist, who is interested in what becomes of exceptionally bright boys, and the disappointing records of many of them, I note that when this bright youngster grew up, he became a professional astronomer. What on earth—or pretty nearly assuredly unrelated to the skies—were the professionals doing, February, 1901? Night of February 22nd—and Dr. Anderson, the amateur who had discovered Nova Aurigae, nine years before, looked up at the constellation Perseus, and, even though he had probably been befoozling himself with astronomical technicalities ever since, saw something new, and knew the new, when he saw it. It was a magnificent new star. It was a splendor that scintillated over stupidity—not a professional, at any of this earth's Observatories, knew of this spectacle, until informed by Dr. Anderson. Usually it is said that Dr. Anderson discovered this star, but his claim has been contested. In Russia, it was recorded that, nine hours earlier, at a time when the sleepiest of the Observatories had not yet closed down, or had not yet quit not observing, the new star had been discovered by Andreas Borisiak, of Kieff. Andreas was a schoolboy. Before the discovery of this new star in Perseus, or Nova Persei, there had been appearances like volcanic phenomena, unattributable, however, to any volcano of this earth. Upon the morning of February 13th, deep-greenish-yellow clouds, spreading intensest darkness, appeared in France (Bull. Soc. Astro. de France, March, 1901). Upon the 16th, a black substance fell from the sky, in Michigan (Monthly Weather Review, 29-465). There was the extreme coldness that often results from interferences with sunlight, by volcanic dust. At Naples, three persons were found to have frozen to death, night of the 13th (London Daily Mail, February 15). A red substance fell with snow, near Mildenhall (London Daily Mail, February 22). It may have been functionally transmitted organic matter. "Pigeons seemed to feed upon it." I have data for thinking that at least four nights before Dr. Anderson's observation, this new star, or a beam from it, though unseen at all Observatories, was magnificently visible. I think so, because, upon the night of the 18th, somebody in Finchley (London) and somebody in Tooting (London) saw something that they thought was a comet. Upon the night of the 10th, somebody in Tottenham saw it. A story of three somebodies who had seen something that was missed by all this earth's professional astronomers, would not be worth much, if told after an announcement of a discovery, but these observations were told of in the London Daily Mail, published upon the morning of February 22nd, before Dr. Anderson was heard from. Sixteen days after the Anderson observation, dust arrived upon this earth—or it fell from the sky—in volumes that were proportional to this outburst of first magnitude in the heavens. The new star at its brightest was of the magnitude of Vega. Dust, of the redness of many volcanic dusts, and of no African deserts that one hears anything of—and if African deserts ever are red, moving picture directors, who are strong for realism, or, rather, sometimes are, should hear about this—fell from the sky. It came down, upon the 9th and 10th of March, in Sicily, Tunis, Italy, Germany, and Russia. A thick orange-red stain was reported from Ongar, Essex, England, upon the 12th (London Daily Mail, March 19). The standardized explanation was published. I shall oppose it with heresy. Throughout this book, I say that all expressions of mine are only mental phenomena, and sometimes may be rather awful specimens, even at that. But, if we examine our opposition, and find it wanting, and if my own expression includes much that it left out, my own expression is not wanting, whether it's wanted, or not. Two wisemen wrote the standardized explanation. The red dust had come from an African desert. See Nature, 66-41. They wrote that they had traced this dust to a hurricane in an African desert, pointing out that, upon the first day, it had fallen in Tunis. That looked like a first fall near an African desert. But the meteorologists are not banded like the astronomers. For a record of a fall, not so near an alleged African desert, see Symons’ Met. Mag., 1902-25—that while this dust was falling in Tunis, also it was falling in Russia. That this dust did come to this earth from outer space—see the Chemical News, 83-159—Dr. Phipson's opinion that it was meteoric. That may be accepted as the same as volcanic. My own expression— That a hurricane that could have strewn Europe with dust, from the Mediterranean to Denmark, and from England to Russia, could have been no breeze fluttering obscurely in some African desert, but a devastating force that would have fanned all Northern Africa into taking notice Lagos (Gold Coast) Record, March-April, 1901—no mention of a whirlwind of any kind in Africa. In the Egyptian Gazette (Alexandria) there is nothing relating to atmospheric disturbances. There is nothing upon any such subject noted in the Sierra Leone News. Al-Moghreb (Tangier) reports the falls of dust in Europe, but mentions no raising of dust anywhere in Africa. But there was a new star. The standardized explanation is perforated with omissions. It seems unthinkable that mind upon this earth could be so bound down to this earth by this thing of gaps, until we reflect that so are all nets fabricated. In Austria, while this dust was falling, the earth quaked. What could such an occurrence have to do with dust from an African desert? Omitted. But at the time of this quake, something else was seen, and it may have been a volcanic bomb that had been shot from a star. London Daily Mail, March 13—a great meteor was seen. Dust falling in Tunis—and that was told. More of the omitted—see the Levant Herald, March 11—that while the dust was falling in Tunis, there were violent earthquakes in Algeria. Something else that was left out—see the English Mechanic, 73-96, and the Bull. Soc. Astro. de France, April, 1901—that, upon March 12th, ashes fell from the sky, at Avellino, Italy. Vesuvius, April, 1872— Krakatoa, August, 1883— Charleston, August, 1886— Time after time after time— And now May, 1902—in the hollow of their ignorance, two of these conventionalists held 30,000 lives. May, 1902—there was another surprise. It, too, was preceded by announcements that were published by mountains, and were advertised in columns of fire upon pages of clouds. In April and May, 1902, across a zone of this earth, also outside the zone, there were disturbances. More than earth-wide relations are indicated, to start with. Eruptions of Mt. Pelée, Martinique, began upon April 20th, the date of the Lyrids. However, in this book, I am omitting many data upon a seeming relation between dates of meteor streams and catastrophes. Then the volcano La Soufrière, island of St. Vincent, B. W. I., broke out. Upon the day of an earthquake in Siberia (April 12th) mud fell from the sky, in widely separated places, in Pennsylvania, New York, New Jersey, and Connecticut. See Science, n.s., 15-872; New York Herald, April 14, 1902; Monthly Weather Review, May, 1902. There may have been an eruption in some other part of one relatively small existence, or organism. There may have been a new star. In the English Mechanic, 75-291, a correspondent in South Profs. Doze and Landes "announced" that there was, in Pelée's activity, nothing to warrant the flight of the people. See Heilprin, Mont Pelée, p. 71. Governor Mouttet ordered a cordon of soldiers to form around the city, and to permit nobody to leave. Upon the 7th of May, a sky in France turned black with warning. See back to other such "coincidences" with catastrophes. Soot and water, like ink, fell from the sky, at Parc Saint Maur (Comptes Rendus, 134-1108). Upon this day, the people of St. Pierre were terrified by the blasts from Pelée. No inhabitant of the city was permitted to leave, but, as recorded by Heilprin, the captain of the steamship Orsolina did break away. They tried to hold him. The "pronouncement" was read to him, and officialdom threatened him, but, with half a cargo, he broke away. His arrival at Havre is told of, in the Daily Messenger (Paris) June 22. The authorities of the Port of St. Pierre had refused to give him clearance papers, but, terrified by the blasts from the volcano, he had sailed without them. The people of St. Pierre were trying to escape, but they were bound to the town by chains of soldiers. Even in discreetly worded accounts, we read of these people, running in droves in the streets. In storms of ashes, turned back at all outskirts, by the soldiers, they were running in whirlpools. Not one word of retreat, nor of any modification, came from the two Professors. They had spoken in accordance with the dogmas of their deadly cult. Considered locally, an effusion of ashes was not considered alarming, and no relationship with wider disturbances could be admitted. The Professors had spoken, and the people of St. Pierre were held to the town. The people were hammered and stabbed back, or they were reasoned with, and persuaded to stay. Just how it was done, one has to visualize for oneself. It was done. At night there was a lull. Then blasts came from the volcano. Screaming people ran from the houses. The narrow streets of this white city were dark with people, massing one way, only to gather against the military confines, sweeping some other way, only to be turned back by soldiers. Had there been darkness some of them might have escaped, but even at sea the glare from the volcano was so intense that the crew of a passing steamship, Lord Antrim, were almost blinded. As seen from the sea, the streets, hung up on the mountainside, distorted by smoke and glare, fluttered. Long narrow crowds darkening these fluttering streets—folds of white garments of a writhing being, chained, awaiting burning. Upon the morning of the 8th, the city of St. Pierre was bound to the stake of Mt. Pelée. There was a rush of flames. In the volcanic fires that burned the city, 30,000 persons perished.