M. Arago, also, has investigated the probability of such a collision on the mathematical doctrine of chances, and remarks as follows: "Suppose, now, a comet, of which we know nothing but that, at its perihelion, it will be nearer the sun than we are, and that its diameter is equal to one fourth that of the earth; the doctrine of chances shows that, out of two hundred and eighty-one millions of cases, there is but one against us; but one, in which the two bodies could meet."
La Place has assigned the consequences that would result from a direct collision between the earth and a comet. "It is easy," says he, "to represent the effects of the shock produced by the earth's encountering a comet. The axis and the motion of rotation changed; the waters abandoning their former position to precipitate themselves towards the new equator; a great part of men and animals whelmed in a universal deluge, or destroyed by the violent shock imparted to the terrestrial globe; entire species annihilated; all the monuments of human industry overthrown;—such are the disasters which the shock of a comet would necessarily produce." La Place, nevertheless, expresses a decided opinion that the orbits of the planets have never yet been disturbed by the influence of comets. Comets, moreover, have been, and are still to some degree, supposed to exercise much influence in the affairs of this world, affecting the weather, the crops, the public health, and a great variety of atmospheric commotions. Even Halley, finding that his comet must have been near the earth at the time of the Deluge, suggested the possibility that the comet caused that event,—an idea which was taken up by Whiston, and formed into a regular theory. In Gregory's Astronomy, an able work, published at Oxford in 1702, the author remarks, that among all nations and in all ages, it has been observed, that the appearance of a comet has always been followed by great calamities; and he adds, "it does not become philosophers lightly to set down these things as fables." Among the various things ascribed to comets by a late English writer, are hot and cold seasons, tempests, hurricanes, violent hail-storms, great falls of snow, heavy rains, inundations, droughts, famines, thick fogs, flies, grasshoppers, plague, dysentery, contagious diseases among animals, sickness among cats, volcanic eruptions, and meteors, or shooting stars. These notions are too ridiculous to require a distinct refutation; and I will only add, that we have no evidence that comets have hitherto ever exercised the least influence upon the affairs of this world; and we still remain in darkness, with respect to their physical nature, and the purposes for which they were created.
LETTER XXVII.
METEORIC SHOWERS.
"Oft shalt thou see, ere brooding storms arise, Star after star glide headlong down the skies, And, where they shot, long trails of lingering light Sweep far behind, and gild the shades of night."—Virgil.
Few subjects of astronomy have excited a more general interest, for several years past, than those extraordinary exhibitions of shooting stars, which have acquired the name of meteoric showers. My reason for introducing the subject to your notice, in this place, is, that these small bodies are, as I believe, derived from nebulous or cometary bodies, which belong to the solar system, and which, therefore, ought to be considered, before we take our leave of this department of creation, and naturally come next in order to comets.
The attention of astronomers was particularly directed to this subject by the extraordinary shower of meteors which occurred on the morning of the thirteenth of November, 1833. I had the good fortune to witness these grand celestial fire-works, and felt a strong desire that a phenomenon, which, as it afterwards appeared, was confined chiefly to North America, should here command that diligent inquiry into its causes, which so sublime a spectacle might justly claim.
As I think you were not so happy as to witness this magnificent display, I will endeavor to give you some faint idea of it, as it appeared to me a little before daybreak. Imagine a constant succession of fire-balls, resembling sky-rockets, radiating in all directions from a point in the heavens a few degrees southeast of the zenith, and following the arch of the sky towards the horizon. They commenced their progress at different distances from the radiating point; but their directions were uniformly such, that the lines they described, if produced upwards, would all have met in the same part of the heavens. Around this point, or imaginary radiant, was a circular space of several degrees, within which no meteors were observed. The balls, as they travelled down the vault, usually left after them a vivid streak of light; and, just before they disappeared, exploded, or suddenly resolved themselves into smoke. No report of any kind was observed, although we listened attentively.
Beside the foregoing distinct concretions, or individual bodies, the atmosphere exhibited phosphoric lines, following in the train of minute points, that shot off in the greatest abundance in a northwesterly direction. These did not so fully copy the figure of the sky, but moved in paths more nearly rectilinear, and appeared to be much nearer the spectator than the fire-balls. The light of their trains was also of a paler hue, not unlike that produced by writing with a stick of phosphorus on the walls of a dark room. The number of these luminous trains increased and diminished alternately, now and then crossing the field of view, like snow drifted before the wind, although, in fact, their course was towards the wind.