But, with the fall, loud noises were heard--

But I'll omit many notes upon ashes: if ashes should sift down upon

deep-sea fishes, that is not to say that they came from steamships.

Data of falls of cinders have been especially damned by Mr. Symons, the

meteorologist, some of whose investigations we'll investigate

later--nevertheless--

Notice of a fall, in Victoria, Australia, April 14, 1875 (_Rept. Brit.

Assoc._, 1875-242)--at least we are told, in the reluctant way, that

someone "thought" he saw matter fall near him at night, and the next day

found something that looked like cinders.

In the _Proc. of the London Roy. Soc._, 19-122, there is an account of

cinders that fell on the deck of a lightship, Jan. 9, 1873. In the

_Amer. Jour. Sci._, 2-24-449, there is a notice that the Editor had

received a specimen of cinders said to have fallen--in showery

weather--upon a farm, near Ottowa, Ill., Jan. 17, 1857.

But after all, ambiguous things they are, cinders or ashes or slag or

clinkers, the high priest of the accursed that must speak aloud for us

is--coal that has fallen from the sky.

Or coke:

The person who thought he saw something like cinders, also thought he

saw something like coke, we are told.

_Nature_, 36-119:

Something that "looked exactly like coke" that fell--during a

thunderstorm--in the Orne, France, April 24, 1887.

Or charcoal:

Dr. Angus Smith, in the _Lit. and Phil. Soc. of Manchester Memoirs_,

2-9-146, says that, about 1827--like a great deal in Lyell's

_Principles_ and Darwin's _Origin_, this account is from

hearsay--something fell from the sky, near Allport, England. It fell

luminously, with a loud report, and scattered in a field. A fragment

that was seen by Dr. Smith, is described by him as having "the

appearance of a piece of common wood charcoal." Nevertheless, the

reassured feeling of the faithful, upon reading this, is burdened with

data of differences: the substance was so uncommonly heavy that it

seemed as if it had iron in it; also there was "a sprinkling of

sulphur." This material is said, by Prof. Baden-Powell, to be "totally

unlike that of any other meteorite." Greg, in his catalogue (_Rept.

Brit. Assoc._, 1860-73), calls it "a more than doubtful substance"--but

again, against reassurance, that is not doubt of authenticity. Greg says

that it is like compact charcoal, with particles of sulphur and iron

pyrites embedded.

Reassurance rises again:

Prof. Baden-Powell says: "It contains also charcoal, which might perhaps

be acquired from matter among which it fell."

This is a common reflex with the exclusionists: that substances not

"truly meteoritic" did not fall from the sky, but were picked up by

"truly meteoritic" things, of course only on their surfaces, by impact

with this earth.

Rhythm of reassurances and their declines:

According to Dr. Smith, this substance was not merely coated with

charcoal; his analysis gives 43.59 per cent carbon.

Our acceptance that coal has fallen from the sky will be via data of

resinous substances and bituminous substances, which merge so that they

cannot be told apart.

Resinous substance said to have fallen at Kaba, Hungary, April 15, 1887

(_Rept. Brit. Assoc._, 1860-94).

A resinous substance that fell after a fireball? at Neuhaus, Bohemia,

Dec. 17, 1824 (_Rept. Brit. Assoc._, 1860-70).

Fall, July 28, 1885, at Luchon, during a storm, of a brownish substance;

very friable, carbonaceous matter; when burned it gave out a resinous

odor (_Comptes Rendus_, 103-837).

Substance that fell, Feb. 17, 18, 19, 1841, at Genoa, Italy, said to

have been resinous; said by Arago (_OEuvres_, 12-469) to have been

bituminous matter and sand.

Fall--during a thunderstorm--July, 1681, near Cape Cod, upon the deck of

an English vessel, the _Albemarle_, of "burning, bituminous matter"

(_Edin. New Phil. Jour._, 26-86); a fall, at Christiania, Norway, June

13, 1822, of bituminous matter, listed by Greg as doubtful; fall of

bituminous matter, in Germany, March 8, 1798, listed by Greg. Lockyer

(_The Meteoric Hypothesis_, p. 24) says that the substance that fell at

the Cape of Good Hope, Oct. 13, 1838--about five cubic feet of it:

substance so soft that it was cuttable with a knife--"after being

experimented upon, it left a residue, which gave out a very bituminous

smell."

And this inclusion of Lockyer's--so far as findable in all books that I

have read--is, in books, about as close as we can get to our

desideratum--that coal has fallen from the sky. Dr. Farrington, except

with a brief mention, ignores the whole subject of the fall of

carbonaceous matter from the sky. Proctor, in all of his books that I

have read--is, in books, about as close as we can get to the admission

that carbonaceous matter has been found in meteorites "in very minute

quantities"--or my own suspicion is that it is possible to damn

something else only by losing one's own soul--quasi-soul, of course.

_Sci. Amer._, 35-120:

That the substance that fell at the Cape of Good Hope "resembled a piece

of anthracite coal more than anything else."

It's a mistake, I think: the resemblance is to bituminous coal--but it

is from the periodicals that we must get our data. To the writers of

books upon meteorites, it would be as wicked--by which we mean departure

from the characters of an established species--quasi-established, of

course--to say that coal has fallen from the sky, as would be, to

something in a barnyard, a temptation that it climb a tree and catch a

bird. Domestic things in a barnyard: and how wild things from forests

outside seem to them. Or the homeopathist--but we shall shovel data of

coal.

And, if over and over, we shall learn of masses of soft coal that have

fallen upon this earth, if in no instance has it been asserted that the

masses did not fall, but were upon the ground in the first place; if we

have many instances, this time we turn down good and hard the mechanical

reflex that these masses were carried from one place to another in

whirlwinds, because we find it too difficult to accept that whirlwinds

could so select, or so specialize in a peculiar substance. Among writers

of books, the only one I know of who makes more than brief mention is

Sir Robert Ball. He represents a still more antique orthodoxy, or is an

exclusionist of the old type, still holding out against even meteorites.

He cites several falls of carbonaceous matter, but with disregards that

make for reasonableness that earthy matter may have been caught up by

whirlwinds and flung down somewhere else. If he had given a full list,

he would be called upon to explain the special affinity of whirlwinds

for a special kind of coal. He does not give a full list. We shall have

all that's findable, and we shall see that against this disease we're

writing, the homeopathist's prescription availeth not. Another

exclusionist was Prof. Lawrence Smith. His psycho-tropism was to

respond to all reports of carbonaceous matter falling from the sky, by

saying that this damned matter had been deposited upon things of the

chosen by impact with this earth. Most of our data antedate him, or were

contemporaneous with him, or were as accessible to him as to us. In his

attempted positivism it is simply--and beautifully--disregarded that,

according to Berthelot, Berzelius, Cloez, Wohler and others these masses

are not merely coated with carbonaceous matter, but are carbonaceous

throughout, or are permeated throughout. How anyone could so resolutely

and dogmatically and beautifully and blindly hold out would puzzle us

were it not for our acceptance that only to think is to exclude and

include; and to exclude some things that have as much right to come in

as have the included--that to have an opinion upon any subject is to be

a Lawrence Smith--because there is no definite subject.

Dr. Walter Flight (_Eclectic Magazine_, 89-71) says, of the substance

that fell near Alais, France, March 15, 1806, that it "emits a faint

bituminous substance" when heated, according to the observations of

Bergelius and a commission appointed by the French Academy. This time we

have not the reluctances expressed in such words as "like" and

"resembling." We are told that this substance is "an earthy kind of

coal."

As to "minute quantities" we are told that the substance that fell at

the Cape of Good Hope has in it a little more than a quarter of organic

matter, which, in alcohol, gives the familiar reaction of yellow,

resinous matter. Other instances given by Dr. Flight are:

Carbonaceous matter that fell in 1840, in Tennessee; Cranbourne,

Australia, 1861; Montauban, France, May 14, 1864 (twenty masses, some of

them as large as a human head, of a substance that "resembled a

dull-colored earthy lignite"); Goalpara, India, about 1867 (about 8 per

cent of a hydrocarbon); at Ornans, France, July 11, 1868; substance with

"an organic, combustible ingredient," at Hessle, Sweden, Jan. 1, 1860.

_Knowledge_, 4-134:

That, according to M. Daubree, the substance that had fallen in the

Argentine Republic, "resembled certain kinds of lignite and boghead

coal." In _Comptes Rendus_, 96-1764, it is said that this mass fell,

June 30, 1880, in the province Entre Rios, Argentina: that it is "like"

brown coal; that it resembles all the other carbonaceous masses that

have fallen from the sky.

Something that fell at Grazac, France, Aug. 10, 1885: when burned, it

gave out a bituminous odor (_Comptes Rendus_, 104-1771).

Carbonaceous substance that fell at Rajpunta, India, Jan. 22, 1911: very

friable: 50 per cent of its soluble in water (_Records Geol. Survey of

India_, 44-pt. 1-41).

A combustible carbonaceous substance that fell with sand at Naples,

March 14, 1818 (_Amer. Jour. Sci._, 1-1-309).

_Sci. Amer. Sup._, 29-11798:

That, June 9, 1889, a very friable substance, of a deep, greenish black,

fell at Mighei, Russia. It contained 5 per cent organic matter, which,

when powdered and digested in alcohol, yielded, after evaporation, a

bright yellow resin. In this mass was 2 per cent of an unknown mineral.

Cinders and ashes and slag and coke and charcoal and coal.

And the things that sometimes deep-sea fishes are bumped by.

Reluctances and the disguises or covered retreats of such words as

"like" and "resemble"--or that conditions of Intermediateness forbid

abrupt transitions--but that the spirit animating all Intermediateness

is to achieve abrupt transitions--because, if anything could finally

break away from its origin and environment, that would be a real

thing--something not merging away indistinguishably with the

surrounding. So all attempt to be original; all attempt to invent

something that is more than mere extension or modification of the

preceding, is positivism--or that if one could conceive of a device to

catch flies, positively different from, or unrelated to, all other

devices--up he'd shoot to heaven, or the Positive Absolute--leaving

behind such an incandescent train that in one age it would be said that

he had gone aloft in a fiery chariot, and in another age that he had

been struck by lightning--

I'm collecting notes upon persons supposed to have been struck by

lightning. I think that high approximation to positivism has often been

achieved--instantaneous translation--residue of negativeness left

behind, looking much like effects of a stroke of lightning. Some day I

shall tell the story of the _Marie Celeste_--"properly," as the

_Scientific American Supplement_ would say--mysterious disappearance of

a sea captain, his family, and the crew--

Of positivists, by the route of Abrupt Transition, I think that Manet

was notable--but that his approximation was held down by his intense

relativity to the public--or that it is quite as impositive to flout and

insult and defy as it is to crawl and placate. Of course, Manet began

with continuity with Courbet and others, and then, between him and Manet

there were mutual influences--but the spirit of abrupt difference is the

spirit of positivism, and Manet's stand was against the dictum that all

lights and shades must merge away suavely into one another and prepare

for one another. So a biologist like De Vries represents positivism, or

the breaking of Continuity, by trying to conceive of evolution by

mutation--against the dogma of indistinguishable gradations by "minute

variations." A Copernicus conceives of helio-centricity. Continuity is

against him. He is not permitted to break abruptly with the past. He is

permitted to publish his work, but only as "an interesting hypothesis."

Continuity--and that all that we call evolution or progress is attempt

to break away from it--

That our whole solar system was at one time attempt by planets to break

away from a parental nexus and set up as individualities, and, failing,

move in quasi-regular orbits that are expressions of relations with the

sun and with one another, all having surrendered, being now

quasi-incorporated in a higher approximation to system:

Intermediateness in its mineralogic aspect of positivism--or Iron that

strove to break away from Sulphur and Oxygen, and be real, homogeneous

Iron--failing, inasmuch as elemental iron exists only in text-book

chemistry:

Intermediateness in its biologic aspect of positivism--or the wild,

fantastic, grotesque, monstrous things it conceived of, sometimes in a

frenzy of effort to break away abruptly from all preceding types--but

failing, in the giraffe-effort, for instance, or only caricaturing an

antelope--

All things break one relation only by the establishing of some other

relation--

All things cut an umbilical cord only to clutch a breast.

So the fight of the exclusionists to maintain the traditional--or to

prevent abrupt transition from the quasi-established--fighting so that

here, more than a century after meteorites were included, no other

notable inclusion has been made, except that of cosmic dust, data of

which Nordenskiold made more nearly real than data in opposition.

So Proctor, for instance, fought and expressed his feeling of the

preposterous, against Sir W.H. Thomson's notions of arrival upon this

earth of organisms on meteorites--

"I can only regard it as a jest" (_Knowledge_, 1-302).

Or that there is nothing but jest--or something intermediate to jest and

tragedy:

That ours is not an existence but an utterance;

That Momus is imagining us for the amusement of the gods, often with

such success that some of us seem almost alive--like characters in

something a novelist is writing; which often to considerable degree take

their affairs away from the novelist--

That Momus is imagining us and our arts and sciences and religions, and

is narrating or picturing us as a satire upon the gods' real existence.

Because--with many of our data of coal that has fallen from the sky as

accessible then as they are now, and with the scientific pronouncement

that coal is fossil, how, in a real existence, by which we mean a

consistent existence, or a state in which there is real intelligence, or

a form of thinking that does not indistinguishably merge away with

imbecility, could there have been such a row as that which was raised

about forty years ago over Dr. Hahn's announcement that he had found

fossils in meteorites?

Accessible to anybody at that time:

_Philosophical Magazine_, 4-17-425:

That the substance that fell at Kaba, Hungary, April 15, 1857, contained

organic matter "analagous to fossil waxes."

Or limestone:

Of the block of limestone which was reported to have fallen at

Middleburg, Florida, it is said (_Science_, 11-118) that, though

something had been seen to fall in "an old cultivated field," the

witnesses who ran to it picked up something that "had been upon the

ground in the first place." The writer who tells us this, with the usual

exclusion-imagination known as stupidity, but unjustly, because there is

no real stupidity, thinks he can think of a good-sized stone that had

for many years been in a cultivated field, but that had never been seen

before--had never interfered with plowing, for instance. He is earnest

and unjarred when he writes that this stone weighs 200 pounds. My own

notion, founded upon my own experience in seeing, is that a block of

stone weighing 500 pounds might be in one's parlor twenty years,

virtually unseen--but not in an old cultivated field, where it

interfered with plowing--not anywhere--if it interfered.

Dr. Hahn said that he had found fossils in meteorites. There is a

description of the corals, sponges, shells, and crinoids, all of them

microscopic, which he photographed, in _Popular Science_, 20-83.

Dr. Hahn was a well-known scientist. He was better known after that.

Anybody may theorize upon other worlds and conditions upon them that are

similar to our own conditions: if his notions be presented undisguisedly

as fiction, or only as an "interesting hypothesis," he'll stir up no

prude rages.

But Dr. Hahn said definitely that he had found fossils in specified

meteorites: also he published photographs of them. His book is in the

New York Public Library. In the reproductions every feature of some of

the little shells is plainly marked. If they're not shells, neither are

things under an oyster-counter. The striations are very plain: one sees

even the hinges where bivalves are joined.

Prof. Lawrence Smith (_Knowledge_, 1-258):

"Dr. Hahn is a kind of half-insane man, whose imagination has run away

with him."

Conservation of Continuity.

Then Dr. Weinland examined Dr. Hahn's specimens. He gave his opinion

that they are fossils and that they are not crystals of enstatite, as

asserted by Prof. Smith, who had never seen them.

The damnation of denial and the damnation of disregard:

After the publication of Dr. Weinland's findings--silence.

7

The living things that have come down to this earth:

Attempts to preserve the system:

That small frogs and toads, for instance, never have fallen from the

sky, but were--"on the ground, in the first place"; or that there have

been such falls--"up from one place in a whirlwind, and down in

another."

Were there some especially froggy place near Europe, as there is an

especially sandy place, the scientific explanation would of course be

that all small frogs falling from the sky in Europe come from that

center of frogeity.

To start with, I'd like to emphasize something that I am permitted to

see because I am still primitive or intelligent or in a state of

maladjustment:

That there is not one report findable of a fall of tadpoles from the

sky.

As to "there in the first place":

See _Leisure Hours_, 3-779, for accounts of small frogs, or toads, said

to have been seen to fall from the sky. The writer says that all

observers were mistaken: that the frogs or toads must have fallen from

trees or other places overhead.

Tremendous number of little toads, one or two months old, that were seen

to fall from a great thick cloud that appeared suddenly in a sky that

had been cloudless, August, 1804, near Toulouse, France, according to a

letter from Prof. Pontus to M. Arago. (_Comptes Rendus_, 3-54.)

Many instances of frogs that were seen to fall from the sky. (_Notes and

Queries_, 8-6-104); accounts of such falls, signed by witnesses. (_Notes

and Queries_, 8-6-190.)

_Scientific American_, July 12, 1873:

"A shower of frogs which darkened the air and covered the ground for a

long distance is the reported result of a recent rainstorm at Kansas

City, Mo."

As to having been there "in the first place":

Little frogs found in London, after a heavy storm, July 30, 1838.

(_Notes and Queries_, 8-7-437);

Little toads found in a desert, after a rainfall (_Notes and Queries_,

8-8-493).

To start with I do not deny--positively--the conventional explanation of

"up and down." I think that there may have been such occurrences. I omit

many notes that I have upon indistinguishables. In the London _Times_,

July 4, 1883, there is an account of a shower of twigs and leaves and

tiny toads in a storm upon the slopes of the Apennines. These may have

been the ejectamenta of a whirlwind. I add, however, that I have notes

upon two other falls of tiny toads, in 1883, one in France and one in

Tahiti; also of fish in Scotland. But in the phenomenon of the

Apennines, the mixture seems to me to be typical of the products of a

whirlwind. The other instances seem to me to be typical of--something

like migration? Their great numbers and their homogeneity. Over and over

in these annals of the damned occurs the datum of segregation. But a

whirlwind is thought of as a condition of chaos--quasi-chaos: not final

negativeness, of course--

_Monthly Weather Review_, July, 1881:

"A small pond in the track of the cloud was sucked dry, the water being

carried over the adjoining fields together with a large quantity of soft

mud, which was scattered over the ground for half a mile around."

It is so easy to say that small frogs that have fallen from the sky had

been scooped up by a whirlwind; but here are the circumstances of a

scoop; in the exclusionist-imagination there is no regard for mud,

debris from the bottom of a pond, floating vegetation, loose things from

the shores--but a precise picking out of frogs only. Of all instances I

have that attribute the fall of small frogs or toads to whirlwinds, only

one definitely identifies or places the whirlwind. Also, as has been

said before, a pond going up would be quite as interesting as frogs

coming down. Whirlwinds we read of over and over--but where and what

whirlwind? It seems to me that anybody who had lost a pond would be

heard from. In _Symons' Meteorological Magazine_, 32-106, a fall of

small frogs, near Birmingham, England, June 30, 1892, is attributed to a

specific whirlwind--but not a word as to any special pond that had

contributed. And something that strikes my attention here is that these

frogs are described as almost white.

I'm afraid there is no escape for us: we shall have to give to

civilization upon this earth--some new worlds.

Places with white frogs in them.

Upon several occasions we have had data of unknown things that have

fallen from--somewhere. But something not to be overlooked is that if

living things have landed alive upon this earth--in spite of all we

think we know of the accelerative velocity of falling bodies--and have

propagated--why the exotic becomes the indigenous, or from the strangest

of places we'd expect the familiar. Or if hosts of living frogs have

come here--from somewhere else--every living thing upon this earth may,

ancestrally, have come from--somewhere else.

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