6. But the description, by Gmelin, of the Aurora, as seen upon the shores of the Icy Sea, and more than all, the simplicity with which the naturalist is disposed to fix its birth-place in that precise interval of the earth’s surface which divides the mouth of the river Yenesei from that of the river Lena, in the North-east of Asia, (a spot so far to the North-eastward, too, of our own!) while it may possibly explain the origin or bearing of remarks, that it “sometimes covers the whole hemisphere, and then makes the most brilliant appearance,” will also afford something of an answer to such as, with the writer quoted above, seeking to connect the Aurora Borealis with the [p412] Magnetic Pole, would discover its same birth-place, or focus, in the North-west, or nearer to the North-west of America, than to the North-east of Asia! It may furnish a reply, also, to Gmelin himself, who, though he tells us that, even upon the banks of the Lena and Yenesei, the Aurora is still seen to rise to the North or North-east of those situations, yet imagines those very banks to be its “real birth-place;” for is it not plain, in the meantime, and this from the very statement of the author, that, travel as far northward, or north-eastward, as we will, the birth-place of the Aurora still retires from our feet; that, even upon the shores of the Icy Sea, the joyous phantom is still to our Northward, or North-east, and that we may reasonably conclude, that even a voyage upon that sea would not carry us to the cradle in pursuit; that, in short, at the North Pole, we should still behold it rise in the North, or the North-east, or the North-west; that we might sail down the Western Hemisphere, and yet only discover, that the Aurora was now in the North behind our backs, as it had been before in the North before our faces; and that, in short, so long as we do but admit its existence in the North, the particular soil or sea is best described in the most general terms:—
“In Nova Zembla, or the Lord knows where!”
The search, too, for the paternal hearth of the Aurora Borealis in any particular division of the Northern Hemisphere, and especially the attempt to find it at the Magnetic or Electric Pole, is, perhaps, so much the more hopeless, after ascertaining, as above, that each hemisphere has its Aurora; and after concluding, as we may have been led to conclude with reason, that each Aurora, other things equal, resembles the other! What is remarkable, also, is that, in the Southern Hemisphere, as well as, according to Gmelin, in the Northern, it is to the Eastward, or to the East of North, that the Aurora has its apparent focus. “A beautiful phenomenon,” says Mr. Forster, (Feb. 17, 1773, lat. 58° S.) “had been observed during the preceding night, which appeared again this and several following nights. It consisted of long columns of white light, shooting up from the horizon to the eastward, almost to the zenith, and gradually spreading over the whole southern part of the sky. These columns are gradually bent sideways [p413] at their upper extremities; and, though in most respects similar to the Northern Lights (Aurora Borealis) of our hemisphere, yet differed from them in being always of a whitish colour; whereas ours assume various colours, especially these of a fiery or purple-hue. The sky was generally clear when they appeared, and the air sharp and cold; the thermometer standing at the freezing point.” This occasional bending of the columns, “sideways at their upper extremities,” instead of uniform convergence toward the zenith, observed by Mr. Forster in the Aurora of the South, is plainly the same peculiarity which was recently witnessed in London, in the Aurora of the North, and a circumstance which, in whatever way explained, assists in the identification of the natures of the two phenomena; and, if we are still to hesitate, upon account of the whiter light of that of the South, let us believe that particular to originate in some peculiar constitution of the Southern atmosphere, from which, in one way or another, not here to be discussed, the cause of the difference may offer itself. But Gmelin’s account of the Aurora of the North, to which the attention of the reader has already been called, is that which is here required to follow. It is to serve to illustrate, as will be remembered, much of the foregoing: “This Northern Light,” says that author, “begins with the rising of single light pillars in the North, and almost at the same time in the North-east, which, gradually increasing, fill a large space in the heavens, rush about, from place to place, with incredible velocity, and finally almost cover the whole sky, up to the zenith: the streams are then seen meeting together in the zenith, where they produce an appearance as if a vast tent was expanded in the heavens, glittering with gold, rubies, and sapphires. A more beautiful spectacle cannot be described; but whoever should witness such a Northern Light for the first time, could not behold it without terror; for, however beautiful the illumination may be, it is attended, as I have learned from the relation of many persons, with a hissing, crackling, and rushing noise, throughout the air, as if the largest fireworks were playing off. To describe what they then hear, they make use of the expression, ‘Spolochi chodjat;’ that is, ‘The furious army is passing!’ The hunters, who, upon the confines of the [p414] Icy Sea, follow the chase of the blue and white foxes, are often overtaken in their excursions by the Northern Light; and, upon this occurrence, their dogs are so much frightened, that they will not move, but cower obstinately upon the ground till the noise is over. The weather, after the appearance of the Northern Light, is usually clear and calm. I have heard these accounts, not from one person only, but from many of those who have spent several years in these very Northerly regions, and inhabited different countries from the Yenesei to the Lena, so that no doubt of its truth can remain; for here seems to be the real birth-place of the Aurora Borealis.”
8. Upon this statement itself, it is only needful to remark, that the rising of the pillars in the North-east, or to the East of North, rather than to the North-west, or West of North, almost at the same time with their first appearance in the North, is not, perhaps, even as seen between the Lena and Yenesei, so uniformly the case as M. Gmelin may have been led to believe; and that, at all events, as above described, the progress of the late display, observed in London, was, first from North to West, and afterward from West to East; the North being always the centre, or always light, while the West and East were changed. The covering of the whole sky, and the splendour of the scene produced, have been the subject of previous remark; and the observation, “that the streams (previously called pillars) are then seen meeting together in the zenith,” entirely corroborates what the present writer has said of the nature of the lights seen skimming across the zenith, and across each other, and the deduction which he has thence made, that the luminous appearances in the zenith are the summits of those very pillars of which the bases are on or below the horizon. The clear and calm weather which, on the shores of the Icy Sea, commonly follows the appearance of the Aurora is, in some degree, in concord with the phenomena of its recent appearance in London; where, without any material change in the temperature, a succession of clear, calm, and bright days supervened, within a day or two of the Aurora. As to the hissing, crackling, or rushing noise, which is said to accompany the Aurora in the more northern regions, and which has sometimes been compared to that of the furling and [p415] unfurling of flags, there is nothing difficult, (knowing what we do of the noise of winds and of thunder,) in admitting its probability, unless what may arise from the consideration, that the noise might, or might not, be expected to be heard, where-ever the phenomenon is to be seen. But the most striking and important truth, communicated in the foregoing account, is that which we cannot but rigorously infer from the collective testimony of two very distinct descriptions, which is afforded in two of the concluding sentences. It consists in that real infrequency, as well in the Northern, as in the Southern Hemisphere, of the appearance of the Aurora; an infrequency the knowledge of which is so essential to the true history of the phenomenon, and therefore to its true philosophy, and consequently to much of the history and philosophy of nature at large;—an infrequency which the present writer has given notice of above, as a proposition for which, in dissent from all received authorities, he will contend; and upon the opposite account of which matter, in the general account quoted, he has already requested the reader to suspend his judgment. It is obvious that, as a natural phenomenon, an Aurora Borealis, which, though constantly experienced in the more Northerly regions, is but rarely observed in the more Southern; that is, an Aurora Borealis which, though familiar to the Samoiede, the Laplander, and even the Shetlander, is an extraordinary, and a terrific, or at least a marvellous event, to the Italian, the Frenchman, and even to the Englishman; it is obvious, that such an Aurora Borealis, constant in its occurrence a little further to the Northward, and almost the solitary spectacle of a generation a little further to the South, is, as a natural phenomenon, a very different thing from an Aurora Borealis which, though far enough to the South, sufficiently frequent in comparatively trivial magnitudes and lustre, is seen, either in the South or in the North, in its greatness, and in its splendour, but yet rarely, and with, perhaps, almost equal rareness; it is obvious that, as natural phenomena, and not less so as sights connected by mankind with their own fortunes, the two things now described are exceedingly unlike as matter of history, and equally so as matter of philosophy. If we are simply to record the occurrence, it is one thing to speak of a phenomenon [p416] which, in the South, is seen only at long intervals, while it is a “constant attendant” in the North; and another thing to speak of that which, whether in the South or in the North, is equally rare, and equally out of the “constant” course of nature. If we are to write the history of nature, it is one thing to relate, that such phenomena, or rather others, infinitely more splendid, more terrific, or more marvellous, than that which was witnessed in London, in the month of September in this year, or in the same month some three-and-twenty years ago, or else some six-and-thirty, and, to judge by experience, is not to be looked for, in the same city, during twenty or thirty years again;—it is one thing to relate that, in the Shetland Islands, such a spectacle is a “constant attendant of clear evenings,” and another thing to relate, that though, perhaps, on clear evenings, in the Shetland Islands, some small displays of the Aurora are not unfrequently perceived, yet, that such an exhibition as has recently been witnessed in London, and still more, such as, more effulgent, and more extended, and more vigorous, and even coloured by the atmosphere into the terrific;—that those exhibitions, in short, of which our naturalists and men of science would persuade us, that, while beheld nightly by those of the North, they are known to us by very faint examples alone;—those exhibitions,—that those extraordinary examples of the brightness and vigour of the Aurora—are as rare, or almost as rare, not only in the Shetland Islands, but in Iceland, and on the shores of the Icy Sea, as in the streets of London themselves! It is obvious, too, that if we are to speak of this phenomenon philosophically, if we are to attempt to explain its origin and use,—its source in the natural elements, and its office in the natural economy; here, too, the solving of this question of the frequency or infrequency, the constancy or the inconstancy, of these mighty exhibitions, even in the North, and under the Pole itself, is matter of foremost importance. And what is the testimony, upon these heads, which is borne by the accounts collected by Gmelin? Is the Northern Light of the German naturalist, the apparently constant attendant of clear evenings, even in the countries between the Lena and the Yenesei? Is the spectacle, and the atmospherical hurley, which seems to rush over the [p417] hunting-grounds of the hunters and their dogs, and which frightens the very dogs, and pins them to the ground till it is passed, or has seemed to pass; is this the “constant attendant of clear evenings,” or, is it a prodigy so uncommon as to defy familiarity? But, if this evidence is insufficient, let us look to what is said of its influence, in these countries, on the subsequent state of the atmosphere. So far from the Aurora being an attendant or follower of clear evenings, it seems that clear evenings follow the Aurora! It is said, that after its occurrence, clear and calm weather is customary to follow; and, here, the expression itself is implicative of the rarity of the occurrence. If it were constant, how should this result come to be noticed; and, indeed, if the Aurora Borealis were the constant attendant of each twenty-four hours, and if clear weather were usually in the train of the Aurora Borealis, how could it ordinarily happen, that there should be any thing else than clear weather, in the countries visited by the Aurora, or any foul weather for the Aurora to dispel? Yet, such is the established prejudice concerning this supposed frequency of the more powerful displays of the Aurora in the climates further to the North than our own, that a writer, quoting the very statement above, absolutely prefaces it with the remark, that Gmelin, in pointed terms, speaks of the Aurora as “frequent,” as well as “very loud,” “in the North-eastern parts of Siberia[125]!” A simple perusal, in the meantime, is sufficient to show, that Gmelin says nothing affirmative as to its frequency; while a slight consideration of the facts which he adduces must satisfy us, as no doubt they satisfied Gmelin himself, that the occurrence, even in Siberia, is actually infrequent!
XI. In reference, however, as well to the image presented above, of “a vast tent expanded in the heavens, glittering with gold, rubies, and sapphires;” as also to many less ambitious and figurative descriptions of the spectacle of the Aurora Borealis, (not excepting that indicted by himself,) the author is anxious to suggest a caution against the too exaggerated conception of the realities intended. Words, [p418] upon such occasions, are rarely more than imperfect pictures, presenting but feeble likenesses, and either deficient or excessive in the amount of beauty, or of the reverse, of whatever kind, which they attempt to copy from their originals; and the inconvenience is seriously great, whenever the object portrayed is wholly strange to the mind before which it is placed. The imperfect power, both of words and written characters, to convey precise, and sometimes even tolerable ideas, of the objects, either sensible or abstract, which they are intended to represent, and the superior intelligibility so often belonging to diagrams or figures, or other resources of the art of drawing, (the primitive, and, for so many purposes, the most instructive mode of writing[126],) would have led the present writer, had time permitted, to endeavour, as often as possible, to elucidate by such means the several parts of the foregoing observations; but which means, at last, and in reference to the actual phenomena of the Aurora, would necessarily fail to convey the due, and yet no more than the due impression, to such as are wholly without its ocular acquaintance. We are little aware how much, upon ordinary occasions, our understanding of words heard or read is assisted by our previous knowledge of the sensible objects, or of the acquired notions, to which they refer; and the examples would be endless, of the sensible objects preposterously misconceived, as well as the propositions made false or ridiculous, through the frequent inadequacy of words to communicate truths entirely new [p419] to the disciple. Even the history of opinions concerning the Aurora Borealis itself, might be cited upon this very point.
The ordinary and natural resource, in such circumstances, is comparison; but even comparison has been the source of great and endless errors of description. Of the degree of resemblance proposed between the known and the unknown, there is no common measure for the minds of the hearer and the listener, and the point or points of comparison intended by the first must often be mistaken by the second; or, if reference is made to a similitude under one aspect, the imagination conceives a resemblance also under another: thus, if it is said, that an unknown animal is as large as a horse, the idea of the figure also of a horse, is apt to be attached. A modern English work of science premises, upon the subject of the Aurora Borealis, that its appearance is so well known as to render description needless. It is true that the work referred to is printed in the Northern part of the island, where the phenomenon is doubtless more familiar than in the Southern; but, in the foregoing pages themselves, it has, perhaps, been demonstrated as probably certain, that if it is any where sufficiently known to render description trite for the common eye, it has at least never hitherto been described with sufficient precision for the aid of speculative research. To attempt to explain its cause, and to relate its entire history, its appearance must first be either observed or described with accuracy; and we have seen, above, that some of the most scientific reasonings which have hitherto been offered as to the former, are wholly inapplicable to the true peculiarities of the latter.
Considered simply as a visual object, and as a meteor differing from all others, and especially from all other luminous meteors, in this, that its duration extends to hours, if not to days and months; the only resemblance, perhaps, that can be suggested, is to that description of lightning which is called heat-lightning, the frequent companion of our summer-evenings. But, here, the similitude is inexpressibly feeble; since heat-lightning has nothing, either of the splendour, the volume, or the beauty of the Aurora; and since the light of the latter, however mobile, varied, and, from time to time, increased and diminished in itself, is yet, as to general effect, continuous and [p420] steady. There remains, then, but to compare the phenomenon of the Aurora with the rising or the setting Sun. In both of these latter, as in the Aurora, the light is in the horizon, and that light is shot upward, perpendicularly, or obliquely, toward the zenith or toward the right and left; and both of these, like the Aurora, are more or less constantly attended with a variety of colouring, similar in hue if not in depth, and always beautiful, and often gorgeous. With the Sun, and with the beams of the Sun, ancient description, in point of fact, has confounded the Aurora Borealis, to the degree, perhaps, of giving origin to some of the ancient and poetical descriptions of the Sun, utterly inappropriate and inexplicable as understood of that day-star, but easily recognised in the Aurora; yet the dissimilitudes, at last, are numerous and great! Of the essential difference of figure, both as to the beams of the Sun, and the beams of the Aurora, in severalty, and of the inevitable difference of indication of which, as to their nature, mention has been already made; and also as to the general or collective figure of the beams of the Aurora, as contrasted with that of the rising, or of the setting Sun. The next point is the homogeneity of colour in the beams of the Sun, however the apparent colour may vary, as it is seen to do, from horizontal stratum to horizontal stratum, from the horizon to the zenith, according to the varied density of the medium between the light and the eye of the spectator. The light, upon the other hand, of the beams of the Aurora is heterogeneously coloured in itself, and is so displayed; and not, therefore, varied as the beams ascend from horizontal stratum to horizontal stratum, or as crossing all the beams together, but found in each particular beam itself, and attending its direction, whether vertical or inclined, and whether rectilinear or curved. Waiving, then, any comparison in detail, between the phenomena of the Aurora, and the phenomena of the rising or of the setting Sun, but admitting that, to a certain degree, all are alike vast in dimensions, splendid in light, rich in colour, and durable upon the eye; there is still nothing else to be subjoined, than that, at least with reference to vastness of dimension and magnitude of the volume of light; to the quantity of light diffused; and to the richness and gorgeousness of [p421] the attendant colouring; there can be little risk, in the assertion that, vast, and splendid, and beautiful, and rich, and gorgeous, as, when seen in the most favourable situation, and under the most favourable circumstances, the Aurora may be, it is, at last, but insignificant, when compared, for those features, to the vastness, the splendour, the beauty, the richness, and the gorgeousness, more or less, from day to day, displayed in the rising or the setting of the Sun; and, that for chaster beauty, and even for amount of light diffused, it is not even to be likened to the silver Moon! As a substitute, too, for either, or for both, the Aurora, in the regions of cold and night, may justly demand the admiration and the blessing of mankind; and, in regions cold and inclement, its rarity, not unaccompanied by beauty, by grandeur, and sometimes even by the terrible in appearance, may well invite the gaze and fix the attention of beholders; but, considered along with the light of the luminaries of heaven, its claims reduce themselves in quality, though certainly not in degree, to a level with those of an artificial lustre; and we almost repeat, in reference to the light of the Aurora, as compared with that of the Sun, or even of the Moon, what the poet has said in reference to the lights of our chambers:—
“Who but rather turns
To heaven’s broad beam his unconstrained eye,