Never, within the history of man, had the immense hemicycle, constructed
at the end of the twentieth century, been invaded by so compact a crowd.
It would have been mechanically impossible for another person to force
an entrance. The amphitheater, the boxes, the tribunes, the galleries,
the aisles, the stairs, the corridors, the doorways, all, to the very
steps of the platform, were filled with people, sitting or standing.
Among the audience were the president of the United States of Europe,
the director of the French republic, the directors of the Italian and
Iberian republics, the chief ambassador of India, the ambassadors of the
British, German, Hungarian and Muscovite republics, the king of the
Congo, the president of the committee of administrators, all the
ministers, the prefect of the international exchange, the
cardinal-archbishop of Paris, the director-general of telephones, the
president of the council of aerial navigation and electric roads, the
director of the international bureau of time, the principal astronomers,
chemists, physiologists and physicians of France, a large number of
state officials (formerly called deputies or senators), many celebrated
writers and artists, in a word, a rarely assembled galaxy of the
representatives of science, politics, commerce, industry, literature and
every sphere of human activity. The platform was occupied by the
president, vice-presidents, permanent secretaries and orators of the
day, but they did not wear, as formerly, the green coat and chapeau or
the old-fashioned sword, they were dressed simply in civil costume, and
for two centuries and a half every European decoration had been
suppressed; those of central Africa, on the contrary, were of the most
brilliant description.
[Illustration:
A DOMESTICATED MONKEY.
]
Domesticated monkeys, which for more than half a century had filled
every place of service—impossible otherwise to provide for—stood at the
doors, in conformity to the regulations, rather than to verify the cards
of admission; for long before the hour fixed upon every place had been
occupied.
The president opened the session as follows (it is needless to remind
the reader that the language of the XXXVth century is here translated
into that of the XIXth):
“Ladies and gentlemen: You all know the object for which we are
assembled. Never, certainly, has humanity passed through such a crisis
as this. Never, indeed, has this historic room of the twentieth century
contained such an audience. The great problem of the end of the world
has been for a fortnight the single object of discussion and study among
savants. The results of their discussions and researches are now to be
announced. Without further preamble I give place to the director of the
observatory.”
The astronomer immediately arose, holding a few notes in his hand. He
had an easy address, an agreeable voice, and a pleasant countenance. His
gestures were few and his expression pleasing. He had a broad forehead
and a magnificent head of curling, white hair framed his face. He was a
man of learning and of culture, as well as of science, and his whole
personality inspired both sympathy and respect. His temperament was
evidently optimistic, even under circumstances of great peril. Scarcely
had he begun to speak when the mournful and anxious faces before him
became suddenly calm and reassured.
“Ladies,” he began, “I address myself first to you, begging you not to
tremble in this way before a danger which may well be less terrible than
it seems. I hope presently to convince you, by the arguments which I
shall have the honor to lay before you, that the comet, whose approach
is expected by the entire race, will not involve the total ruin of the
earth. Doubtless, we may, and should, expect some catastrophe, but as
for the end of the world, really, everything would lead us to believe
that it will not take place in this manner. Worlds die of old age, not
by accident, and, ladies, you know better than I that the world is far
from being old.
“Gentlemen, I see before me representatives of every social sphere, from
the highest to the most humble. Before a danger so apparent, threatening
the destruction of all life, it is not surprising that every business
operation should be absolutely suspended. Nevertheless, as for myself, I
confess that if the bourse was not closed, and if I had never had the
misfortune to be interested in speculation, I should not hesitate today
to purchase securities which have fallen so low.”
This sentence was finished before a noted American Israelite—a prince of
finance—director of the journal The Twenty-fifth Century, occupying a
seat on one of the upper steps of the amphitheater, forced his way, one
hardly knows how, through the rows of benches, and rolled like a ball to
the corridor leading to an exit, through which he disappeared.
[Illustration:
THE PRINCE OF FINANCE LEAVING THE INSTITUTE.
]
After the momentary interruption caused by this unexpected sequel to a
purely scientific remark, the orator resumed:
“Our subject,” he said, “may be considered under three heads: 1. Is the
collision of the comet with the earth certain? If this question is
answered in the affirmative, we shall have to examine: 2. The nature of
the comet, and, 3. The possible effects of a collision. I have no need
to remind so intelligent an audience as this that the prophetic words
‘End of the world,’ so often heard today, signify solely ‘End of the
earth,’ which moment indeed, of all others, has the most interest for
us.
“If we are able to answer the first question in the negative, it will be
quite superfluous to consider the other two, which would become of
secondary interest.
“Unfortunately, I must admit that the calculations of the astronomers
are in this case, as usual, entirely correct. Yes, the comet will strike
the earth, and, doubtless, with maximum force, since the impact will be
direct. The velocity of the earth is 29,400 meters per second; that of
the comet is 41,660 meters, plus the acceleration due to the attraction
of our planet. The initial velocity of contact, therefore, will be
72,000 meters per second. The collision, is inevitable, with all its
consequences, if the impact of the comet is direct; but it will be
slightly oblique. But do not for this reason, take matters so to heart.
In itself the collision proves nothing. If it were announced, for
example, that a railway train was to encounter a swarm of flies, this
prediction would not greatly trouble the traveller. It may well be that
the collision of our earth with this nebulous star will be of the same
nature.
“Permit me now to examine, calmly, the two remaining questions.
“First, what is the nature of the comet? That everyone knows already; it
is a gas whose principal constituent is carbonic-oxide. Invisible under
ordinary conditions, at the temperature of stellar space (273 degrees
below zero), this gas is in a state of vapor, even of solid particles.
The comet is saturated with them. I shall not in this matter dispute in
the least the discoveries of science.”
This confession deepened anew the painful expression on the faces of
most of the audience, and here a long sigh was drawn.
“But, gentlemen,” resumed the astronomer, “until one of our eminent
colleagues of the section of physiology, or of the academy of medicine,
deigns to prove for us that the density of the comet is sufficient to
admit of its penetration into our atmosphere, I do not believe that its
presence is likely to exert a fatal influence upon human life. I say is
likely, for it is not possible to affirm this with certainty, although
the probability is very great. One might perhaps wager a million to one.
In any case, only those affected with weak lungs will be victims. It
will be a simple influenza, which may increase three or fivefold the
daily death rate.
“If, however, as the telescope and camera agree in indicating, the
nucleus contains large mineral masses, probably of a metallic nature,
uranolites, measuring several kilometers in diameter, and weighing some
millions of tons, one cannot but admit that the localities where these
masses will fall, with the velocity referred to a moment ago, would be
utterly destroyed. Let us observe, however, that three-fourths of the
globe is covered with water. Here again is a contingency, not so
important doubtless as the first, but, nevertheless, in our favor; these
masses may perhaps fall into the sea, forming possibly new islands of
foreign origin, bringing in any case elements new to science, and, it
may be, germs of unknown life; Geodesy would in this case be interested,
and the form and rotary movement of the earth might be modified. Let us
note also that not a few deserts mark the earth’s surface. Danger
exists, assuredly, but it is not overwhelming.
[Illustration:
“A FEW CITIES IN ASHES CANNOT ARREST THE HISTORY OF HUMANITY.”
]
“Besides these masses and these gases, perhaps also the bolides of which
we were speaking, coming in clouds, will kindle conflagrations at
various places on the continents; dynamite, nitroglycerine, panclastite
and royalite would be playthings in comparison with what may overtake
us, but this does not imply a universal cataclysm; a few cities in ashes
cannot arrest the history of humanity.
“You see, gentlemen, from this methodical examination of the three
points before us, it follows that the danger, while it exists, and is
even imminent, is not so great, so overwhelming, so certain, as is
asserted. I will even say more: this curious astronomical event, which
sets so many hearts beating and fills with anxiety so many minds, in the
eyes of the philosopher scarcely changes the usual aspect of things.
Each one of us must some day die, and this certainty does not prevent us
from living tranquilly. Why should the apprehension of a somewhat more
speedy death disturb the serenity of so many of us? Is the thought of
our dying together so disagreeable? This should prove rather a
consolation to our egotism. No, it is the thought that a stupendous
catastrophe is to shorten our lives by a few days or years. Life is
short, and each clings to the smallest fraction of it; it would even
seem, from what one hears, that each would prefer to see the whole world
perish, provided he himself survived, rather than die alone and know the
world was saved. This is pure egoism. But, gentlemen, I am firm in the
belief that this will be only a partial disaster, of the highest
scientific importance, but leaving behind it historians to tell its
story. There will be a collision, shock, and local ruin. It will be the
history of an earthquake, of a volcanic eruption, of a cyclone.”
Thus spoke the illustrious astronomer. The audience appeared satisfied,
calmed, tranquillized—in part, at least. It was no longer the question
of the absolute end of all things, but of a catastrophe, from which,
after all, one would probably escape. Whispered murmurs of conversation
were to be heard; people confided to each other their impressions;
merchants and politicians even seemed to have perfectly understood the
arguments advanced, when, at the invitation of the presiding officer,
the president of the academy of medicine was seen advancing slowly
toward the tribune.
[Illustration:
“HE WAS A TALL, SPARE MAN.”
]
He was a tall man, spare, slender, erect, with a sallow face and ascetic
appearance, and melancholy countenance—bald-headed, and wearing
closely-trimmed, gray side-whiskers. His voice had something cadaverous
about it, and his whole personality called to mind the undertaker rather
than the physician fired with the hope of curing his patients. His
estimate of affairs was very different from that of the astronomer, as
was apparent from the very first word he uttered.
“Gentlemen,” said he, “I shall be as brief as the eminent savant to whom
we have just listened, although I have passed many a night in analyzing,
to the minutest detail, the properties of carbonic-oxide. It is about
this gas that I shall speak to you, since science has demonstrated that
it is the chief constituent of the comet, and that a collision with the
earth is inevitable.
“These properties are terrible; why not confess it? For the most
infinitesimal quantity of this gas in the air we breathe is sufficient
to arrest in three minutes the normal action of the lungs and to destroy
life.
“Everybody knows that carbonic-oxide (known in chemistry as CO) is a
permanent gas without odor, color or taste, and nearly insoluble in
water. Its density in comparison with the air is 0.96. It burns in the
air with a blue flame of slight illuminating power, like a funereal
fire, the product of this combustion being carbonic anhydride.
“Its most notable property is its tendency to absorb oxygen. (The orator
dwelt upon these two words with great emphasis.) In the great iron
furnaces, for example, carbon, in the presence of an insufficient
quantity of air, becomes transformed into carbonic-oxide, and it is
subsequently this oxide which reduces the iron to a metallic state, by
depriving it of the oxygen with which it was combined.
“In the sunlight carbonic-oxide combines with chlorine and gives rise to
an oxychlorine (COCL^2)—a gas with a disagreeable, suffocating odor.
“The fact which deserves our more serious attention, is that this gas is
of the most poisonous character—far more so than carbonic anhydride. Its
effect upon the hemoglobin is to diminish the respiratory capacity of
the blood, and even in very small doses, by its cumulative effect,
hinders, to a degree altogether out of proportion to the apparent cause,
the oxygenizing properties of the blood. For example: blood which
absorbs from twenty-three to twenty-four cubic centimeters of oxygen per
hundred volumes, absorbs only one-half as much in an atmosphere which
contains less than one-thousandth part of carbonic-oxide. The
one-ten-thousandth part even has a deleterious effect, sensibly
diminishing the respiratory action of the blood. The result is not
simple asphyxia, but an almost instantaneous blood-poisoning.
Carbonic-oxide acts directly upon the blood corpuscles, combining with
them and rendering them unfit to sustain life: hematosis, that is, the
conversion of venous into arterial blood, is arrested. Three minutes are
sufficient to produce death. The circulation of the blood ceases. The
black venous blood fills the arteries as well as the veins. The latter,
especially those of the brain, become surcharged, the substance of the
brain becomes punctured, the base of the tongue, the larynx, the
wind-pipe, the bronchial tubes become red with blood, and soon the
entire body presents the characteristic purple appearance which results
from the suspension of hematosis.
“But, gentlemen, the injurious properties of carbonic-oxide are not the
only ones to be feared; the mere tendency of this gas to absorb oxygen
would bring about fatal results. To suppress, nay, even only to diminish
oxygen, would suffice for the extinction of the human species. Everyone
here present is familiar with that incident which, with so many others,
marks the epoch of barbarism, when men assassinated each other legally
in the name of glory and of patriotism; it is a simple episode of one of
the English wars in India. Permit me to recall it to your memory:
“One hundred and forty-six prisoners had been confined in a room whose
only outlets were two small windows opening upon a corridor; the first
effect experienced by these unfortunate captives was a free and
persistent perspiration, followed by insupportable thirst, and soon by
great difficulty in breathing. They sought in various ways to get more
room and air; they divested themselves of their clothes; they beat the
air with their hats, and finally resorted to kneeling and rising
together at intervals of a few seconds; but each time some of those
whose strength failed them fell and were trampled under the feet of
their comrades. Before midnight, that is, during the fourth hour of
their confinement, all who were still living, and who had not succeeded
in obtaining purer air at the windows, had fallen into a lethargic
stupor, or a frightful delirium. When, a few hours later, the prison
door was opened, only twenty-three men came out alive; they were in the
most pitiable state imaginable; every face wearing the impress of the
death from which they had barely escaped.
[Illustration:
THE BLACK HOLE OF CALCUTTA.
]
“I might add a thousand other examples, but it would be useless, for
doubt upon this point is impossible. I therefore affirm, gentlemen,
that, on the one hand, the absorption by the carbonic-oxide of a portion
of the atmospheric oxygen, or, on the other, the powerfully toxic
properties of this gas upon the vital elements of the blood, alike seem
to me to give to the meeting of our globe with the immense mass of the
comet—in the heart of which we shall be plunged for several hours—I
affirm, I repeat, that this meeting involves consequences absolutely
fatal. For my part, I see no chance of escape.
“I have not spoken of the transformation of mechanical motion into heat,
or of the mechanical and chemical consequences of the collision. I leave
this aspect of the question to the permanent secretary of the academy of
sciences and to the learned president of the astronomical society of
France, who have made it the subject of important investigations. As for
me, I repeat, terrestrial life is in danger, and I see not one only, but
two, three and four mortal perils confronting it. Escape will be a
miracle, and for centuries no one has believed in miracles.”
This speech, uttered with the tone of conviction, in a clear, calm and
solemn voice, again plunged the entire audience into a state of mind
from which the preceding address had, happily, released them. The
certainty of the approaching disaster was painted upon every face; some
had become yellow, almost green; others suddenly became scarlet and
seemed on the verge of apoplexy. Some few among the audience appeared to
have retained their self-possession, through scepticism or a philosophic
effort to make the best of it. A vast murmur filled the room; everyone
whispered his opinions to his neighbor, opinions generally more
optimistic than sincere, for no one likes to appear afraid.
The president of the astronomical society of France rose in his turn and
advanced toward the tribune. Instantly every murmur was hushed. Below we
give the main points of his speech, including the opening remarks and
the peroration:
“Ladies and gentlemen: After the statements which we have just heard, no
doubt can remain in any mind as to the certainty of the collision of the
comet with the earth, and the dangers attending this event. We must,
therefore, expect on Saturday—”
“On Friday,” interrupted a voice from the desk of the Institute.
“On Saturday, I repeat,” continued the orator, without noticing the
interruption, “an extraordinary event, one absolutely unique in the
history of the world.
“I say Saturday, although the papers announce that the collision will
take place on Friday, because it cannot occur before July 14th. I passed
the entire night with my learned colleague in comparing the observations
received, and we discovered an error in their transmission.”
This statement produced a sensation of relief among the audience; it was
like a slender ray of light in the middle of a somber night. A single
day of respite is of enormous importance to one condemned to death.
Already chimerical projects formed in every mind; the catastrophe was
put off; it was a kind of reprieve. It was not remembered that this
diversion was of a purely cosmographic nature, relating to the date and
not to the fact of the collision. But the least things play an important
role in public opinion. So it was not to be on Friday!
“Here,” he said, going to the black-board, “are the elements as finally
computed from all the observations.” The speaker traced upon the
black-board the following figures:
Perihelion passage August 11, at 0h., 42m., 44s.
Longitude of perihelion, 52°, 43´, 25˝.
Perihelion distance, 0.7607.
Inclination, 103°, 18´, 35˝.
Longitude of ascending node, 112°, 54´, 40˝.
“The comet,” he resumed, “will cross the ecliptic in the direction of
the descending node 28 minutes, 23 seconds after midnight of July 14th
just as the earth reaches the point of crossing. The attraction of the
earth will advance the moment of contact by only thirty seconds.
“The event, doubtless, will be altogether exceptional, but I do not
believe either, that it will be of so tragical a nature as has been
depicted, or that it can really bring about blood poison or universal
asphyxia. It will rather present the appearance of a brilliant display
of celestial fire-works, for the arrival in the atmosphere of these
solid and gaseous bodies cannot occur without the conversion into heat
of the mechanical motion thus destroyed; a magnificent illumination of
the sky will doubtless be the first phenomenon.
“The heat evolved must necessarily be very great. Every shooting star,
however small, entering the upper limits of our atmosphere with a
cometary velocity, immediately becomes so hot that it takes fire and is
consumed. You know, gentlemen, that the earth’s atmosphere extends far
into space about our planet; not without limit, as certain hypotheses
declare, since the earth turns on its axis and moves about the sun: the
mathematical limit is that height at which the centrifugal force
engendered by the diurnal rotary motion becomes equal to the weight;
this height is 6.64 times the equatorial radius of the earth, the latter
being 6,378,310 meters. The maximum height of the atmosphere, therefore,
is 35,973 kilometers.
“I do not here wish to enter into a mathematical discussion. But the
audience before me is too well informed not to know the mechanical
equivalent of heat. Every body whose motion is arrested produces a
quantity of heat expressed in caloric units by mv^2 divided by 8338, in
which _m_ is the mass of the body in kilograms and _v_ its velocity in
meters per second. For example, a body weighing 8338 kilograms, moving
with a velocity of one meter per second, would produce, if suddenly
stopped, exactly one heat unit; that is to say, the quantity of heat
necessary to raise one kilogram of water one degree in temperature.
“If the velocity of the body be 500 meters per second, it would produce
250,000 times as much heat, or enough to raise a quantity of water of
equal mass from 0° to 30°.
“If the velocity were 5000 meters per second, the heat developed would
be 5,000,000 times as great.
“Now, you know, gentlemen, that the velocity with which a comet may
reach the earth is 72,000 meters per second. At this figure the
temperature becomes five milliards of degrees.
“This, indeed, is the maximum and, I should add, a number altogether
inconceivable; but, gentlemen, let us take the minimum, if it be your
pleasure, and let us admit that the impact is not direct, but more or
less oblique, and that the mean velocity is not greater than 30,000
meters per second. Every kilogram of a bolide would develop in this case
107,946 heat units before its velocity would be destroyed by the
resistance of the air; in other words, it would generate sufficient heat
to raise the temperature of 1079 kilograms of water from 0° to 100°—that
is, from the freezing to the boiling point. A uranolite weighing 2000
kilograms would thus, before reaching the earth, develop enough heat to
raise the temperature of a column of air, whose cross-section is thirty
square meters and whose height is equal to that of our atmosphere,
3000°, or, to raise from 0° to 30° a column whose cross-section is 3000
square meters.
“These calculations, for the introduction of which I crave your pardon,
are necessary to show that the immediate consequence of the collision
will be the production of an enormous quantity of heat, and, therefore,
a considerable rise in the temperature of the air. This is exactly what
takes place on a small scale in the case of a single meteorite, which
becomes melted and covered superficially by a thin layer of vitrified
matter, resembling varnish. But its fall is so rapid that there is not
sufficient time for it to become heated to the center; if broken, its
interior is found to be absolutely cold. It is the surrounding air which
has been heated.
“One of the most curious results of the analysis which I have just had
the honor to lay before you, is that the solid masses which, it is
believed, have been seen by the telescope in the nucleus of the comet,
will meet with such resistance in traversing our atmosphere that, except
in rare instances, they will not reach the earth entire, but in small
fragments. There will be a compression of the air in front of the
bolide, a vacuum behind it, a superficial heating and incandescence of
the moving body, a roar produced by the air rushing into the vacuum, the
roll of thunder, explosions, the fall of the denser metallic portions
and the evaporation of the remainder. A bolide of sulphur, of
phosphorus, of tin or of zinc, would be consumed and dissipated long
before reaching the lower strata of our atmosphere. As for the shooting
stars, if, as seems probable, there is a veritable cloud of them, they
will only produce the effect of a vast inverted display of fire-works.
[Illustration:
MAKING FOR THE ANTIPODES.
]
“If, therefore, there is any reason for alarm, it is not, in my opinion,
because we are to apprehend the penetration of the gaseous mass of
carbonic-oxide into our atmosphere, but a rise in temperature, which
cannot fail to result from the transformation of mechanical motion into
heat. If this be so, safety may be perhaps attained by taking refuge on
the side of the globe opposed to that which is to experience the direct
shock of the comet, for the air is a very bad conductor of heat.”
The permanent secretary of the academy rose in his turn. A worthy
successor to the Fontenelles and Aragos of the past, he was not only a
man of profound knowledge, but also an elegant writer and a persuasive
orator, rising sometimes even to the highest flights of eloquence.
“To the theory which we have just heard,” he said, “I have nothing to
add; I can only apply it to the case of some comet already known. Let us
suppose, for example, that a comet of the dimensions of that of 1811
should collide squarely with the earth in its path about the sun. The
terrestrial ball would penetrate the nebula of the comet without
experiencing any very sensible resistance. Admitting that this
resistance is very slight, and that the density of the comet’s nucleus
may be neglected, the passage of the earth through the head of a comet
of 1,800,000 kilometers in diameter, would require at least 25,000
seconds—that is, 417 minutes, or six hours, fifty-seven minutes—in round
numbers, seven hours—the velocity being 120 times greater than that of a
cannon-ball; and the earth continuing to rotate upon its axis, the
collision would commence about six o’clock in the morning.
[Illustration]
“Such a plunge into the cometary ocean, however rarified it might be,
could not take place without producing as a first and immediate
consequence, by reason of the thermodynamic principles which have been
just called to your attention, a rise in temperature such that probably
our entire atmosphere would take fire! It seems to me that in this
particular case the danger would be very serious.
“But it would be a fine spectacle for the inhabitants of Mars, and a
finer one still for those of Venus. Yes, that would indeed be a
magnificent spectacle, analogous to those we have ourselves seen in the
heavens, but far more splendid to our near neighbors.
“The oxygen of the air would prove insufficient to maintain the
combustion, but there is another gas which physicists do not often think
of, for the simple reason that they have never found it in their
analyses—hydrogen. What has become of all the hydrogen freed from the
soil these millions of years which have elapsed since prehistoric times?
The density of this gas being one-sixteenth that of the air, it must
have ascended, forming a highly rarified hydrogen envelope above our
atmosphere. In virtue of the law of diffusion of gases, a large part of
this hydrogen would become mixed with the atmosphere, but the upper air
layers must contain a considerable portion of it. There, doubtless, at
an elevation of more than one hundred kilometers, the shooting stars
take fire, and the aurora borealis is lighted. Notice here that the
oxygen of the air would furnish the carbon of the comet ample material
during collision to feed the celestial fire.
“Thus the destruction of the world will result from the combustion of
the atmosphere. For about seven hours—probably a little longer, as the
resistance to the comet cannot be neglected—there will be a continuous
transformation of motion into a heat. The hydrogen and the oxygen,
combining with the carbon of the comet, will take fire. The temperature
of the air will be raised several hundred degrees; woods, gardens,
plants, forests, habitations, edifices, cities, villages, will all be
rapidly consumed; the sea, the lakes and the rivers will begin to boil;
men and animals, enveloped in the hot breath of the comet, will die
asphyxiated before they are burned, their gasping lungs inhaling only
flame. Every corpse will be almost immediately carbonized, reduced to
ashes, and in this vast celestial furnace only the heart-rending voice
of the trumpet of the indestructible angel of the Apocalypse will be
heard, proclaiming from the sky, like a funeral knell, the antique
death-song: ‘Solvet sæculum in favilla.’ This is what may happen if a
comet like that of 1811 collides with the earth.”
At these words the cardinal-archbishop rose from his seat and begged to
be heard. The astronomer, perceiving him, bowed with a courtly grace and
seemed to await the reply of his eminence.
“I do not desire,” said the latter, “to interrupt the honorable speaker,
but if science announces that the drama of the end of the world is to be
ushered in by the destruction of the heavens by fire, I cannot refrain
from saying that this has always been the universal belief of the
church. ‘The heavens,’ says St. Peter, ‘shall pass away with a great
noise, and the elements shall meet with fervent heat, the earth also and
the works that are therein shall be burned up.’ St. Paul affirms also
its renovation by fire, and we repeat daily at mass his words: ‘Eum qui
venturus est judicare vivos et mortuos et sæculum per ignem.’”
“Science,” replied the astronomer, “has more than once been in accord
with the prophecies of our ancestors. Fire will first devour that
portion of the globe struck by the huge mass of the comet, consuming it
before the inhabitants of the other hemisphere realize the extent of the
catastrophe; but the air is a bad conductor of heat, and the latter will
not be immediately propagated to the opposite hemisphere.
“If our latitude were to receive the first shock of the comet, reaching
us, we will suppose, in summer, the tropic of Cancer, Morocco, Algeria,
Tunis, Greece and Egypt would be found in the front of the celestial
onset, while Australia, New Caledonia and Oceanica would be the most
favored. But the rush of air into this European furnace would be such
that a storm more violent than the most frightful hurricane and more
formidable even than the air-current which moves continuously on the
equator of Jupiter, with a velocity of 400,000 kilometers per hour,
would rage from the Antipodes towards Europe, destroying everything in
its path. The earth, turning upon its axis, would bring successively
into the line of collision, the regions lying to the west of the
meridian first blasted. An hour after Austria and Germany it would be
the turn of France, then of the Atlantic ocean, then of North America,
which would enter somewhat obliquely the dangerous area about five or
six hours after France—that is, towards the end of the collision.
“Notwithstanding the unheard-of velocities of the comet and the earth,
the pressure cannot be enormous, in view of the extremely rarified state
of the matter traversed by the earth; but this matter, containing so
much carbon, is combustible, and at perihelion these bodies are not
infrequently seen to shine by their own as well as by reflected light:
they become incandescent. What, then, must be the result of a collision
with the earth? The combustion of meteorites and bolides, the
superficial fusion of the uranolites which reach the earth’s surface on
fire, all lead us to believe that the moment of greatest heat will be
that of contact, which evidently will not prevent the massive elements
forming the nucleus of the comet from crushing the localities where they
fall, and perhaps even breaking up an entire continent.
[Illustration:
DEATH BY SUFFOCATION.
]
“The terrestrial globe being thus entirely surrounded by the cometary
mass for nearly seven hours, and revolving in this incandescent gas, the
air rushing violently toward the center of disturbance, the sea boiling
and filling the atmosphere with new vapors, hot showers falling from the
sky-cataracts, the storm raging everywhere with electric deflagrations
and lightnings, the rolling of thunder heard above the scream of the
tempest, the blessed light of former days having been succeeded by the
mournful and sickly gleamings of the glowing atmosphere, the whole earth
will speedily resound with the funeral knell of universal doom, although
the fate of the dwellers in the Antipodes will probably differ from that
of the rest of mankind. Instead of being immediately consumed, they will
be stifled by the vapors, by the excess of nitrogen—the oxygen having
been rapidly abstracted—or poisoned by carbonic-oxide; the fire will
afterwards reduce their corpses to ashes, while the inhabitants of
Europe and Africa will have been burned alive.
“The well-known tendency of carbonic-oxide to absorb oxygen will
doubtless prove a sentence of instant death for those farthest from the
initial point of the catastrophe.
“I have taken as an example the comet of 1811; but I hasten to add that
the present one appears to be far less dense.”
“Is it absolutely sure?” cried a well-known voice (that of an
illustrious member of the chemical society) from one of the boxes. “Is
it absolutely sure the comet is composed chiefly of carbonic-oxide? Have
not the nitrogen lines also been detected in its spectrum? If it should
prove to be protoxide of nitrogen, the consequence of its mixture with
our atmosphere might be anæsthesia. Every one would be put to
sleep—perhaps forever, if the suspension of the vital functions were to
last but a little longer than is the case in our surgical operations. It
would be the same if the comet was composed of chloroform or ether. That
would be an end calm indeed.
“It would be less so if the comet should absorb the nitrogen instead of
the oxygen, for this partial or total absorption of nitrogen would bring
about, in a few hours, for all the inhabitants of the earth—for men and
women, for the young and the aged—a change of temperament, involving at
first nothing disagreeable—a charming sobriety, then gayety, followed by
universal joy, a feverish exultation, finally delirium and madness,
terminating, in all probability, by the sudden death of every human
being in the apotheosis of a wild saturnalia, an unheard-of frenzy of
the senses. Would that death be a sad one?”
“The discussion remains open,” replied the secretary. “What I have said
of the possible consequences of a collision applies to the direct impact
of a comet like that of 1811; the one that threatens us is less
colossal, and its impact will not be direct, but oblique. In common with
the astronomers who have preceded me on this floor, I am inclined to
believe, in this instance, in a mighty display of fire-works.”
While the orator was still speaking, a young girl belonging to the
central bureau of telephones, entered by a small door, conducted by a
domesticated monkey, and, darting like a flash to the seat occupied by
the president, put into his hands a large, square, international
envelope. It was immediately opened, and proved to be a despatch from
the observatory of Gaurisankar. It contained only the following words:
“The inhabitants of Mars are sending a photophonic message. Will be
deciphered in a few hours.”
“Gentlemen,” said the president, “I see several in the audience
consulting their watches, and I agree with them in thinking that it will
be physically impossible for us to finish in a single session this
important discussion, in which eminent representatives of geology,
natural history and geonomy are yet to take part. Moreover, the despatch
just read will doubtless introduce new problems. It is nearly six
o’clock. I propose that we adjourn to nine o’clock this evening. It is
probable that we shall have received, by that time, from Asia the
translation of the message from Mars. I will also beg the director of
the observatory to maintain constant communication, by telephone, with
Gaurisankar. In case the message is not deciphered by nine o’clock, the
president of the geological society of France will open the meeting with
a statement of the investigations which he has just finished, on the
natural end of the world. Everybody, at this moment, is absorbingly
interested in whatever relates to the question of the end of our world,
whether this is dependent upon the mysterious portent now suspended
above us, or upon other causes, of whatsoever nature, subject to
investigation.”
[Illustration]
[Illustration]