SECTION I.

COMETS CONSIDERED AS PRESAGES.

Comets have been considered in all times and in all countries as signs, precursors of fatal events-Antiquity and universality of this belief; its probable originOpinion of Seneca; habitual and regular phenomena fail to attract the attention of the multitude; meteors and comets, on the contrary, make a profound impression-The moderns in this respect resemble the ancients contemporary with Seneca The incorruptible heavens of the ancients, in contradistinction to the sublunary or atmospheric regions; stars and meteors-Inevitable confusion of certain celestial or cosmical phenomena with atmospheric meteors.

In all countries and in all times the apparition of a comet has been considered as a presage: a presage fortunate or unfortunate according to the circumstances, the popular state of mind, the prevailing degree of superstition, the imbecility of princes or the calculation of courtiers. Science itself has helped to confirm the formidable and terrible signification most frequently accorded by common belief to the sudden and unexpected arrival of one of these remarkable stars. Not two centuries ago, as we shall shortly see, learned men and astronomers of undoubted merit continued to believe in the influence of comets over human events. What wonder, then, if we should find existing in our own time, in the midst of the nineteenth century, numerous vestiges of a superstition as old as the world?

How has this superstition originated? This is a question we shall not undertake to resolve: we leave it to others more

learned and competent than ourselves in similar matters to reply. Let us confine ourselves to a simple and by no means new remark. The things which we see every day, the phenomena which are constantly or regularly reproduced under our eyes do not strike us, and fail to excite either our attention or curiosity. D'Alembert has said: 'It is not without reason that philosophers are astonished to see a stone fall to the ground, and people who laugh at their astonishment will upon the smallest reflection share it themselves.' Yes, it is necessary to be a philosopher, or man of science, as we should say at the present day; it is necessary to reflect in order to discover the why and the how of facts, of those at least whose production is frequent and regular. The most admirable phenomena remain unperceived. Habit blunts the impression we derive from them and renders us indifferent.

As applied to comets, this idea has been perfectly expressed by Seneca, at the commencement of Book vii. of his Quæstiones Naturales: There is,' he observes, 'no mortal so apathetic, so obtuse, so bowed down towards the earth, that he does not erect himself and tend with all the powers of his mind towards divine things, particularly when some new phenomenon makes its appearance in the heavens. Whilst all above follows its daily course, the recurrence of the spectacle robs it of its grandeur. For man is thus constituted: that which he sees every day, however admirable it may be, he passes with indifference, whilst the least important things as soon as they depart from the accustomed order captivate and interest him. The whole choir of heavenly constellations under this immense vault, whose beauty they diversify, fails to attract the attention of the multitude; but should anything extraordinary appear, all faces are turned towards the heavens. The sun has spectators only when he is eclipsed. The moon is observed only when she undergoes a similar crisis. Cities then raise a cry of alarm,

and everyone in panic fear trembles for himself. . . . So much is it in our nature to admire the new rather than the great. The same thing takes place in respect to comets. If one of these flaming bodies should appear of rare and unusual form, everyone is anxious to see what it is; all the rest are forgotten whilst everyone enquires concerning the new arrival: no one knows whether to admire or to tremble; for there are not wanting people who draw from thence grave prognostics and disseminate fears.'

Is it not with us to-day as with the contemporaries of Seneca? Doubtless thoughtful and reflective minds yield themselves readily to a sentiment of contemplative admiration before the majestic spectacle of the heavens. The solemn march of the heavenly bodies, the well-ordered harmony of worlds, are for them the symbol of eternal laws governing the universe; from the unalterability of these laws they derive confidence. But the mass of the people ordinarily remains indifferent before impassable and immutable nature. It is reserved for one unusual apparition to rouse all from this indifference, to awaken curiosity in some, fear in others, and, if the phenomenon should be of unwonted proportions, admiration in every one.

Moreover, whether it be a comet, or any other remarkable meteor, bolide, aurora borealis, or stone fallen from heaven, the sentiments of fear inspired by these phenomena are always the same, the superstitious interpretation similar, but closely proportioned in degree to the brilliancy and the more or less whimsical or extraordinary form of the apparition.

Amongst the Greeks and Romans, as we all know, a number of the most ordinary and familiar actions, singular rencontres, the cries of animals, the flight and the song of birds, were looked upon as omens, as so many means made use of by the gods to communicate with man, to warn him of their

decrees, to signify to him their thoughts and will. But they regarded the importance of the warning as proportional to the grandeur of the sign and the brilliancy of the phenomenon, and it is not difficult to understand that comets amongst these manifestations of the divine will appeared the most significant and formidable.

A comet, moreover, not being a simple local phenomenon, seen only by some, but exhibiting itself to all, brilliant as a star, and of unusual dimensions, varying from day to day in form, position and size, had all the appearance of a sign fraught with significance to the entire people: this portent addressed itself to those who played an important part in public affairs, and concerned kings, or at least great personages. It had a certain resemblance to the stars, which it sometimes surpassed in the brilliancy of its light, but it differed from them in its erratic course; it had a certain resemblance likewise to atmospheric meteors, by its sudden appearance, and oftentimes as sudden disappearance, and by the rapid changes to which it was ordinarily subjected. The heavens, with their countless hosts, the sun, the moon, the fixed stars and planets, were for the ancients the domain of the incorruptible-coli incorrupti. Under this name it was the dwelling-place of the gods, the habitation of the immortals. On the contrary, the air, the atmosphere, the sublunary space-for the ancients it was all one-was the region of meteors and of things corruptible and fleeting; and in the same manner as the thunder-bolt of Jupiter was the chosen instrument of his vengeance, comets were the selected messengers of fate, sent to announce to mortals, on the part of the gods, events that were inevitable.

In this confusion of certain celestial phenomena with atmospheric meteors lies the chief source of the difficulty experienced by the astronomers of antiquity and the Middle Ages, and even of modern times, in solving the complicated