The Book of the Damned (9 page)

Or a whirlwind, with a distribution as wide as that, would not acceptably, I should say, have so specialized in the rare substance called “marsh paper.” There’d have been falls of fence rails, roofs of houses, parts of trees. Nothing is said of the occurrence of a tornado in northern Europe, in January, 1686. There is record only of this one substance having fallen in various places.

Time went on, but the conventional determination to exclude data of all falls to this earth, except of substances of this earth, and of ordinary meteoric matter, strengthened.

Annals of Philosophy,
16-68:

The substance that fell in January, 1686, is described as “a mass of black leaves, having the appearance of burnt paper, but harder, and cohering, and brittle.”

“Marsh paper” is not mentioned, and there is nothing said of the “conifervae,” which seemed so convincing to the royal Irishmen. Vegetable composition is disregarded, quite as it might be by someone who might find it convenient to identify a crook-necked squash as a big fishhook.

Meteorites are usually covered with a black crust, more or less scale-like. The substance of 1686 is black and scale-like. If so be convenience, “leaf-likeness” is “scale-likeness.” In this attempt to assimilate with the conventional, we are told that the substance is a mineral mass: that it is like the black scales that cover meteorites.

The scientist who made this “identification” was Von Grotthus. He had appealed to the god Chemical Analysis. Or the power and glory of mankind—with which we’re not always so impressed—but the gods must tell us what we want them to tell us. We see again that, though nothing has identity of its own, anything can be “identified” as anything. Or there’s nothing that’s not reasonable, if one snoopeth not into its exclusions. But here the conflict did not end. Berzelius examined the substance. He could not find nickel in it. At that time, the presence of nickel was the “positive” test of meteoritic matter. Whereupon, with a supposititious “positive” standard of judgment against him, Von Grotthus revoked his “identification.”
(Annals and Mag. of Nat. Hist.,
1-3-185.)

This equalization of eminences permits us to project with our own expression, which, otherwise, would be subdued into invisibility:

That it’s too bad that no one ever looked to see—hieroglyphics?—something written upon these sheets of paper?

If we have no very great variety of substances that have fallen to this earth; if, upon this earth’s surface there is infinite variety of substances detachable by whirlwinds, two falls of such a rare substance as marsh paper would be remarkable.

A writer in the
Edinburgh Review,
87-194, says that, at the time of writing, he had before him a portion of a sheet of 200 square feet, of a substance that had fallen at Carolath, Silesia, in 1839—exactly similar to cotton-felt, of which clothing might have been made. The god Microscopic Examination had spoken. The substance consisted chiefly of conifervæ.

Jour. Asiatic Soc. of Bengal,
1847-pt. 1-193:

That March 16, 1846—about the time of a fall of edible substance in Asia Minor—an olive-gray powder fell at Shanghai. Under the microscope, it was seen to be an aggregation of hairs of two kinds, black ones and rather thick white ones. They were supposed to be mineral fibers, but, when burned, they gave out “the common ammoniacal smell and smoke of burnt hair or feathers.” The writer described the phenomenon as “a cloud of 3800 square miles of fibers, alkali, and sand.” In a postscript, he says that other investigators, with more powerful microscopes, gave opinion that the fibers were not hairs; that the substance consisted chiefly of conifervæ.

Or the pathos of it, perhaps; or the dull and uninspired, but courageous persistence of the scientific: everything seemingly found out is doomed to be subverted—by more powerful microscopes and telescopes; by more refined, precise, searching means and methods—the new pronouncements irrepressibly bobbing up; their reception always as Truth at last; always the illusion of the final; very little of the Intermediatist spirit—

That the new that has displaced the old will itself someday be displaced; that it, too, will be recognized as myth-stuff—

But that if phantoms climb, spooks of ladders are good enough for them.

Annual Register,
1821-681:

That, according to a report by M. Lainé, French Consul at Pernambuco, early in October, 1821, there was a shower of a substance resembling silk. The quantity was as tremendous as might be a whole cargo, lost somewhere between Jupiter and Mars, having drifted around perhaps for centuries, the original fabrics slowly disintegrating. In
Annales de Chimie,
2-15-427, it is said that samples of this substance were sent to France by M. Lainé, and that they proved to have some resemblances to silky filaments which, at certain times of the year, are carried by the wind near Paris.

In the
Annals of Philosophy,
n.s., 12-93, there is mention of a fibrous substance like blue silk that fell near Naumberg, March 23, 1665. According to Chladni
(Annales de Chimie,
2-31-264), the quantity was great. He places a question mark before the date.

One of the advantages of Intermediatism is that, in the oneness of quasiness, there can be no mixed metaphors. Whatever is acceptable of anything, is, in some degree or aspect, acceptable of everything. So it is quite proper to speak, for instance, of something that is as firm as a rock and that sails in a majestic march. The Irish are good monists: they have of course been laughed at for their keener perceptions. So it’s a book we’re writing, or it’s a procession, or it’s a museum, with the Chamber of Horrors rather over-emphasized. A rather horrible correlation occurs in the
Scientific American,
1859-178. What interests us is that a correspondent saw a silky substance fall from the sky—there was an aurora borealis at the time—he attributes the substance to the aurora.

Since the time of Darwin, the classic explanation has been that all silky substances that fall from the sky are spider webs. In 1832, aboard the
Beagle,
at the mouth of La Plata River, sixty miles from land, Darwin saw an enormous number of spiders, of the kind usually known as “gossamer” spiders, little aeronauts that cast out filaments by which the wind carries them.

It’s difficult to express that silky substances that have fallen to this earth were not spider webs. My own acceptance is that spider webs are the merger; that there have been falls of an externally derived silky substance, and also of the webs, or strands, rather, of aeronautic spiders indigenous to this earth; that in some instances it is impossible to distinguish one from the other. Of course, our expression upon silky substances will merge away into expressions upon other seeming textile substances, and I don’t know how much better off we’ll be—

Except that, if fabricable materials have fallen from the sky—

Simply to establish acceptance of that may be doing well enough in this book of first and tentative explorations.

In
All the Year Round,
8-254, is described a fall that took place in England, Sept. 21, 1741, in the towns of Bradly, Selborne, and Alresford, and in a triangular space included by these three towns. The substance is described as “cobwebs”—but it fell in flake-formation, or in “flakes or rags about one inch broad and five or six inches long.” Also these flakes were of a relatively heavy substance—“they fell with some velocity.” The quantity was great—the shortest side of the triangular space is eight miles long. In the
Wernerian Nat. Hist. Soc. Trans.,
5-386, it is said that there were two falls—that they were some hours apart—a datum that is becoming familiar to us—a datum that cannot be taken into the fold, unless we find it repeated over and over and over again. It is said that the second fall lasted from nine o’clock in the morning until night.

Now the hypnosis of the classic—that what we call intelligence is only an expression of inequilibrium; that when mental adjustments are made, intelligence ceases—or, of course, that intelligence is the confession of ignorance. If you have intelligence upon any subject, that is something you’re still learning—if we agree that that which is learned is always mechanically done—in quasi-terms, of course, because nothing is ever finally learned.

It was decided that this substance was spiders’ web. That was adjustment. But it’s not adjustment to me; so I’m afraid I shall have some intelligence in this matter. If I ever arrive at adjustment upon this subject, then, upon this subject, I shall be able to have no thoughts, except routine thoughts. I haven’t yet quite decided absolutely everything, so I am able to point out:

That this substance was of quantity so enormous that it attracted wide attention when it came down—

That it would have been equally noteworthy when it went up—

That there is no record of anyone, in England or elsewhere, having seen tons of “spider webs” going up, September, 1741.

Further confession of intelligence upon my part:

That, if it be contested, then, that the place of origin may have been far away, but still terrestrial—

Then it’s that other familiar matter of incredible “marksmanship” again—hitting a small, triangular space for hours—interval of hours—then from nine in the morning until night: same small triangular space.

These are the disregards of the classic explanation. There is no mention of spiders having been seen to fall, but a good inclusion is that, though this substance fell in good-sized flakes of considerable weight, it was viscous. In this respect it was like cobwebs: dogs nosing it on grass, were blindfolded with it. This circumstance does strongly suggest cobwebs—

Unless we can accept that, in regions aloft, there are vast viscous or gelatinous areas, and that things passing through become daubed.

Or perhaps we clear up the confusion in the descriptions of the substance that fell in 1841 and 1846, in Asia Minor, described in one publication as gelatinous, and in another as a cereal—that it was a cereal that had passed through a gelatinous region. That the paper-like substance of Memel may have had such an experience may be indicated in that Ehrenberg found in it gelatinous matter, which he called “nostoc.”
(Annals and Mag. of Nat. Hist.,
1-3-185.)

Scientific American,
45-337:

Fall of a substance described as “cobwebs,” latter part of October, 1881, in Milwaukee, Wis., and other towns: other towns mentioned are Green Bay, Vesburge, Fort Howard, Sheboygan, and Ozaukee. The aeronautic spiders are known as “gossamer” spiders, because of the extreme lightness of the filaments that they cast out to the wind. Of the substance that fell in Wisconsin, it is said:

“In all instances the webs were strong in texture and very white.”

The Editor says:

“Curiously enough, there is no mention in any of the reports that we have seen, of the presence of spiders.”

So our attempt to divorce a possible external product from its terrestrial merger: then our joy of the prospector who thinks he’s found something:

The
Monthly Weather Review,
26-566, quotes the
Montgomery
(Ala.)
Advertiser:

That, upon Nov. 21, 1898, numerous batches of spider-web-like substance fell in Montgomery, in strands and in occasional masses several inches long and several inches broad. According to the writer, it was not spiders’ web, but something like asbestos; also that it was phosphorescent.

The Editor of the
Review
says that he sees no reason for doubting that these masses were cobwebs.

La Nature,
1883-342:

A correspondent writes that he sends a sample of a substance said to have fallen at Montussan (Gironde), Oct. 16, 1883. According to a witness, quoted by the correspondent, a thick cloud, accompanied by rain and a violent wind, had appeared. This cloud was composed of a woolly substance in lumps the size of a fist, which fell to the ground. The Editor (Tissandier) says of this substance that it was white, but was something that had been burned. It was fibrous. M. Tissandier astonishes us by saying that he cannot identify this substance. We thought that anything could be “identified” as anything. He can say only that the cloud in question must have been an extraordinary conglomeration.

Annual Register,
18327:

That, March, 1832, there fell, in the fields of Kourianof, Russia, a combustible yellowish substance, covering, at least two inches thick, an area of 600 or 700 square feet. It was resinous and yellowish: so one inclines to the conventional explanation that it was pollen from pine trees—but, when torn, it had the tenacity of cotton. When placed in water, it had the consistency of resin. “This resin had the color of amber, was elastic, like India rubber, and smelled like prepared oil mixed with wax.”

So in general our notion of cargoes—and our notion of cargoes of food supplies:

In
Philosophical Transactions,
19-224, is an extract from a letter by Mr. Robert Vans, of Kilkenny, Ireland, dated Nov. 15, 1695: that there had been “of late,” in the counties of Limerick and Tipperary, showers of a sort of matter like butter or grease . . . having “a very stinking smell.”

There follows an extract from a letter by the Bishop of Cloyne, upon “a very odd phenomenon,” which was observed in Munster and Leinster: that for a good part of the spring of 1695 there fell a substance which the country people called “butter”—“soft, clammy, and of a dark yellow”—that cattle fed “indifferently” in fields where this substance lay.

“It fell in lumps as big as the end of one’s finger.” It had a “strong ill scent.” His Grace calls it a “stinking dew.”

In Mr. Vans’ letter, it is said that the “butter” was supposed to have medicinal properties, and “was gathered in pots and other vessels by some of the inhabitants of this place.”

And:

In all the following volumes of
Philosophical Transactions
there is no speculation upon this extraordinary subject. Ostracism. The fate of this datum is a good instance of damnation, not by denial, and not by explaining away, but by simple disregard. The fall is listed by Chladni, and is mentioned in other catalogues, but, from the absence of all inquiry, and of all but formal mention, we see that it has been under excommunication as much as was ever anything by the preceding system. The datum has been buried alive. It is as irreconcilable with the modern system of dogmas as ever were geologic strata and vermiform appendix with the preceding system—