Chapter XIII: Transits of Venus 273 (3)

It appears to me, however, that the danger in the case of our own sun--or may we not say _our_ danger?--arises only from the possibility that some one of the comets which visit us from the star-depths may make straight for the sun; and this danger is exceedingly small. Almost certainly a comet which, leaving the domain of another sun, falls under the attractive influence of our own, would approach him on a path passing many millions of miles from his surface. The chances against a more direct approach are so great that they may be regarded as, to all intents and purposes, overwhelming. A comet _might_ visit us from the star-depth on a destructive course, just as a single black ball _might_ be drawn at the first trial from a bag containing a million white balls and only that single black one. But the danger is exceedingly small.

We see, indeed, that other suns have suffered in this way, assuming cometic downfall to be the true cause of stellar outbursts. There are so many millions of suns, however, in the region of space to which telescopic survey extends that the occurrence of ten or twelve such outbursts in the course of four or five centuries need not be regarded as implying any serious danger. Moreover, all the suns which have thus suffered lie within a particular region of the heavens,--viz., in the Milky Way, and in that half of the Milky Way which is most irregular, one may almost say _ragged_, in structure. (With one exception--the star in the Northern Crown, which, nevertheless, lies on a faint outlying streamer of the Milky Way not discernible to ordinary vision.) If then our sun belongs to this region of space, the danger for him and for us is somewhat greater than my previous argument would indicate. For, in that case, we must compare the number of outbursts, not with the total number of stars within telescopic range, but with the number of those stars which lie within this particular region of space. On the other hand, if our sun does not lie within that region of space, the danger for him and for us is very much less; for instead of a certain small number of accidents among his fellow suns, there have been no such accidents, only accidents affecting other suns which must be differently classed.

The case may be compared to the estimation of the dangers, let us say, of travelling by ocean steamships on a particular route. If we take the total number of accidents, for instance, to steamships travelling between England and the United States, we should estimate the risk of the journey as very small, the number of passengers who have lost their lives being very small compared with the number who have made the journey. But even this small risk is diminished if we estimate the danger for a passenger by Cunard steamships, simply because no passenger has yet lost his life through accident to one of these Cunard vessels.

So in the case of our sun, the danger of an outburst such as has affected the stars in the Northern Crown and Cygnus is small enough when we estimate it by comparing the number of such accidents with the total number of stars, but vanishes almost into nothingness when we note that no insulated star like our sun seems hitherto to have undergone one of these tremendous catastrophes.

But as regards the fate of worlds circling round suns which have suffered in this way, we can form but one opinion. Beyond all doubt, if such worlds existed and were inhabited when their central orb blazed forth with many hundred times its former lustre, all life must have perished from their surface. We may believe, as many do, that no conditions are too unlike those we are familiar with on earth to render life impossible; that the creatures subsisting in a world exposed to the most fiery heat or to the most intense cold are adapted as perfectly to the conditions under which they subsist as we are to the circumstances of terrestrial life. But even adopting this view, though it seems to accord ill with what we know of our own earth,--where life ceases towards the polar and over large tracts of the equatorial regions,--we could not believe that creatures thus adapted to the conditions prevailing around them could endure an entire change of those conditions. With the accessions of heat in the stars in Cygnus and the Crown, such change must inevitably have taken place. Therefore, as I think, we must regard the catastrophes affecting those remote suns as assuredly involving "The End of many Worlds."

_Note._--What is stated in the latter portion of this chapter
applies now only to the star in the Northern Crown; for the star in
Cygnus has not faded into a small star, but into a small nebula! For
the further history of this star, the reader is referred to my
forthcoming treatise entitled, "Pleasant Ways in Science."

FOOTNOTES:

[7] Its place is indicated in my School Atlas, as well as (of course) in my Library Atlas, from the latter of which the small maps illustrating the present article have been pricked off. The new star is marked T in the Crown (Map VIII.), and must not be confounded with the star τ, as in Roscoe's Treatise on Spectral Analysis, and in some astronomical works. The star τ is a well known fifth magnitude star, which has shone with no perceptible increase or diminution of splendour since Bayer's time certainly, and probably for thousands of years before.

[8] This chapter was first published in February, 1877, when the star was already invisible to the naked eye.

[9] It will be remembered by those familiar with the history of solar observation, that when the spectrum of the solar prominence was first observed, the orange-yellow bright line was supposed to be the well-known double sodium line. It is so near to this pair of lines, that while they are called D 1 and D 2, it has been called D 3; and in a spectroscope of small dispersive power the three would be seen as one.

VI.

_THE AURORA BOREALIS._

Among the objects in view, when the recent Polar expedition was fitted out, was the hope that during the winter of 1875-76 the scientific observers who accompanied the expedition might be able to study the Aurora Borealis under unusually favourable conditions. This hope was, as most of my readers doubtless know, disappointed. Few auroras were seen, and those seen were not remarkable either for brilliancy or for beauty of colour. Yet in the very disappointment of the hope which had been entertained on this subject there was very significant evidence respecting the aurora, as will presently be shown. The quiescence, at that time, of the forces which produce the auroral streamers had its meaning, and a very strange one.

The aurora is one of those phenomena of nature which are characterized by exceeding beauty, and sometimes by an imposing grandeur, but are unaccompanied by any danger, and indeed, so far as can be determined, by any influence whatever upon the conditions which affect our well-being. Comparing the aurora with a phenomenon akin to it in origin--lightning--we find in this respect the most marked contrast. Both phenomena are caused by electrical discharges; both are exceedingly beautiful. It is doubtful which is the more imposing so far as visible effects are concerned. When the auroral crown is fully formed, and the vault of heaven is covered with the auroral banners, waving hither and thither silently, now fading from view, anon glowing with more intense splendour, the mind is not less impressed with a sense of the wondrous powers which surround us than when, as the forked lightnings leap from the thundercloud, the whole heavens glow with violet light, and then sink suddenly into darkness. The solemn stillness of the auroral display is as impressive in its kind as the crashing peal of the thunderbolt. But there is a striking contrast between the feelings with which we regard the safe splendours of the aurora and the terrible glory of the lightning flash. One display we contemplate with the calmness engendered by absolute security; the other--no matter how little the fear of death may affect the reason--cannot be regarded without exciting the consciousness of danger. We witness in safety, so far as itself is concerned, the flash whose light illuminates the cloud masses above and around us, but for aught we know it may be the last we shall ever see, since no man killed by lightning ever saw the flash which brought his death.

I do not purpose to consider here at any length those facts respecting the aurora which properly find their place in text-books of science, but those only which are less commonly dealt with, and seem at once most suggestive and most perplexing.

The reader is no doubt aware that auroras, or polar streamers, as they are sometimes called, are appearances seen not around the true poles of the earth, but around the magnetic poles, which lie very far away from those geographical poles which our arctic and antarctic seamen have in vain attempted to reach. We in England, though much nearer to the north pole than the inhabitants of Canada, see far fewer auroras than they do, and those we see are far less splendid, simply because we are farther away from the northern magnetic pole. This will be seen from the accompanying pair of maps (from my "Elementary Physical Geography"), showing where the northern and southern magnetic poles lie. Again, you will see from the northern map, that from England the northern magnetic pole lies towards the west of due north. That is why when we see a fully developed auroral arch in this country its crown lies towards the west of north (almost midway between north and north-west). I may have occasion at another time to consider the curious changes which affect the actual position of the magnetic poles and lines; in this place I merely note that what is now said respecting them only refers to the present time.

The formation of auroral streamers around the magnetic poles of the earth shows that these lights are due to electrical discharges, just as the general magnetic phenomena of the earth indicate the existence of electrical currents. The earth, in fact, with its envelope of air, moist and dense near the surface, rare and dry above may be regarded as an enormous magnetic instrument, a core surrounded by conducting matter, in which electrical currents pass whenever the condition of the earth's magnetism changes. The discharges of electricity, though only visible at night, take place in reality in the daytime also. According to their extent and position, varying with the varying conditions under which they take place, their aspect changes. Moreover, from different parts of the earth the appearance of the aurora is different. From low latitudes (I speak now of magnetic latitudes as indicated by the closed curves around the magnetic poles in the maps), the auroral arch is seen towards the north in our hemisphere, towards the south in the other hemisphere. From points nearer the magnetic pole it is seen overhead, and when that pole is approached still nearer, the crown of the arch is seen on the side remote from the pole,--that is, towards the south in our hemisphere, towards the north in the southern hemisphere.

Remembering that the aurora is due to electrical discharges in the upper regions of the air, it is interesting to learn what are the appearances presented by the aurora at places where the auroral arch is high above the horizon,--these being, in fact, places nearly _under_ the auroral arch. M. Ch. Martins, who observed a great number of auroras at Spitzbergen in 1839, thus writes (as translated by Mr. Glaisher) respecting them: "At times they are simple diffused gleams or luminous patches; at others, quivering rays of pure white which run across the sky, starting from the horizon as if an invisible pencil were being drawn over the celestial vault; at times it stops in its course, the incomplete rays do not reach the zenith, but the aurora continues at some other point; a bouquet of rays darts forth, spreads out into a fan, then becomes pale, and dies out. At other times long golden draperies float above the head of the spectator, and take a thousand folds and undulations as if agitated by the wind. They appear to be but at a slight elevation in the atmosphere, and it seems strange that the rustling of the folds as they double back on each other is not audible. Generally, a luminous bow is seen in the north; a black segment separates it from the horizon, the dark colour forming a contrast with the pure white or bright red of the bow, which darts forth rays, extends, becomes divided, and soon presents the appearance of a luminous fan, which fills the northern sky, and mounts nearly to the zenith, where the rays, uniting, form a crown, which in its turn darts forth luminous jets in all directions. The sky then looks like a cupola of fire; the blue, the green, the yellow, the red, and the white vibrate in the palpitating rays of the aurora. But this brilliant spectacle lasts only a few minutes; the crown first ceases to emit luminous jets, and then gradually dies out; a diffused light fills the sky; here and there a few luminous patches, resembling light clouds, open and close with incredible rapidity, like a heart that is beating fast. They soon get pale in their turn, everything fades away and becomes confused, the aurora seems to be in its death-throes; the stars, which its light had obscured, shine with a renewed brightness; and the long polar night, sombre and profound, again assumes its sway over the icy solitudes of earth and ocean."

The association between auroral phenomena and those of terrestrial magnetism has long been placed beyond a doubt. Wargentin in 1750 first established the fact, which had been previously noted, however, by Halley and Celsius. But the extension of the relation to phenomena occurring outside the earth--very far away from the earth--belongs to recent times.

The first point to be noticed, as showing that the aurora depends partly on extra-terrestrial circumstances, is the fact that the frequency of its appearance varies greatly from time to time. It is said that the aurora was hardly ever seen in England during the seventeenth century, though the northern magnetic pole was then much nearer to England than it is at present. Halley states that before the great aurora of 1716 none had been seen (or at least recorded) in England for more than eighty years, and no remarkable aurora since 1574. In the records of the Paris Academy of Sciences no aurora is mentioned between 1666 and 1716. At Berlin one was recorded in 1707 as a very unusual phenomenon; and the one seen at Bologna in 1723 was described as the first which had ever been seen there. Celsius, who described in 1733 no less than three hundred and sixteen observations of the aurora in Sweden between 1706 and 1732, states that the oldest inhabitants of Upsala considered the phenomenon as a great rarity before 1716. Anderson, of Hamburg, states that in Iceland the frequent occurrence of auroras between 1716 and 1732 was regarded with great astonishment. In the sixteenth century, however, they had been frequent.

Here, then, we seem to find the evidence of some cause external to the earth, as producing auroras, or at least as tending to make their occurrence more or less frequent. The earth has remained to all appearance unchanged in general respects during the last three centuries, yet in the sixteenth her magnetic poles have been frequently surrounded by auroral streamers; during the seventeenth these streamers have been seldom seen; during the last two-thirds of the seventeenth century auroras have again been frequent; and during the present century they have occurred sometimes frequently during several years in succession, at others very seldom.

Let us inquire a little more closely into the circumstances attending auroral displays, in order to ascertain what external cause it is which thus influences their occurrence.

Connected as auroras are with the phenomena of terrestrial magnetism, we may expect to find some help in our inquiry from the study of these phenomena.

Now it appears certain that magnetic phenomena are partly influenced by changes in the sun's condition. We may well believe that they are in the main due to the sun's ordinary action, but the peculiarities which affect them seem to depend on _changes_ in the sun's action. It is found that the daily oscillation of the magnetic needle corresponds with the diurnal change in the position of the sun owing to the earth's rotation. An annual change affecting that oscillation depends on the varying distance of the sun as the year proceeds. The daily change is not only greater than the annual, but is characterized by irregularities, when the face of the sun shows the greatest number of spots. It was found by General Sabine, says Mr. Balfour Stewart, "that the aggregate value of magnetic disturbances at Toronto attained a maximum in 1848, nor was he slow to remark that this was also Schwabe's period of maximum sun-spots. It was afterwards found, by observations made at Kew, that 1859 (another of Schwabe's years) was also a year of maximum magnetic disturbance.... There is also some reason to believe that on one occasion our luminary was caught in the very act. On the first of September, 1869, two astronomers, Carrington and Hodgson, were independently observing the sun's disc, which exhibited at that time a very large spot, when, about a quarter past eleven, they noticed a very bright star of light suddenly break out over the spot and move with great velocity across the sun's surface. On Mr. Carrington sending afterwards to Kew Observatory, at which place the position of the magnet is recorded continuously by photography, it was found that a magnetic disturbance had broken out at the very moment when this singular appearance had been observed." The dip of the magnetic needle, its deflection from the north, the inferiority of its directive force, were all three simultaneously and abruptly altered, and continued so for many hours.

Nor are we left in any doubt as to the connection between such well-marked disturbances of the magnetic needle. While the needle was thus violently displaced, vivid auroras occurred over the greater part of both the northern and southern (magnetic) hemispheres. They were seen in latitudes where usually auroras are as infrequent as rain in Peru,--at Rome, in the West Indies, even within eighteen degrees of the equator.

The disturbance of the earth's electrical condition was well shown in other ways. Mr. C. V. Walker, the telegraphist, found that strong electrical currents affected the various telegraphic lines throughout England. These currents changed in direction every two or three minutes. In many places it was impossible to send telegraphic messages. In America some of the signalmen received severe electric shocks. "At a station in Norway," says Sir J. Herschel, "the telegraphic apparatus was set fire to; and at Boston, in North America, a flame of fire followed the pen of Bain's electric telegraph (which writes down the message upon chemically prepared paper)."

Many of my readers will doubtless remember the auroras of May 13, 1869, and October 24, 1870, both of which occurred when the sun's surface was marked by many spots, and both of which were accompanied by remarkable disturbance of the earth's magnetism.

It may, then, fairly be assumed that the occurrence of auroras depends in some way, directly or indirectly, on the condition of the sun. But what the real nature of that connection may be is not to be easily determined. It is clear that the eleven-year-period of sun-spots is not the only, or even the chief period affecting auroras, for we have seen that sometimes for a full century, or even more, very few auroras are seen. It is not by any means certain that the connection between the sun's condition and the occurrence of auroras is of the nature of cause and effect; quite probably sun-spots and auroras depend on some common cause as yet undetected,--and possibly never to be detected by man.

Regarding the auroral streamers as terrestrial lights only, but in some sense like the light reflected by planets in having their real source in the sun, we can no longer speak, as Humboldt was wont to do, of our planet possessing a power of emitting light of its own. Yet his manner of dealing with auroral light still possesses interest for us, especially in relation to the question whether these polar lights are emitted by other planets and may possibly be discerned from our earth. "It results from the phenomena of the aurora," said Humboldt, "that the earth is endowed with the property of emitting a light distinct from that of the sun. The intensity of this light is rather greater than that of the moon in its first quarter. It is at times, as on January 7, 1831, strong enough to admit of one's reading printed characters without difficulty. This light of the earth, the emission of which towards the poles is almost continuous" (this, however, is not strictly the case), "reminds us of the light of Venus, the part of which not lighted by the sun often glimmers with a dim phosphorescent light. Other planets may also possess a light evolved out of their own substance."

I would venture, however, to express strong doubts as to the possibility of discerning, either on Venus or on any other planet, the auroral gleams which may very probably illuminate at times their nocturnal skies. It must be remembered that the aurora, when at its brightest and covering a large part of the sky, only gives about as much light as the moon in her first quarter,--that is, as one half of a disc so small that 180,000 such discs would not equal the entire sky. The luminosity of the aurora is then in reality very small; probably far less than that of the earth's surface when illuminated by the full moon. A distant hill on which the rays of the full moon are falling seems strongly illuminated, and yet its light is really so faint that we could scarcely discern it at all save for the favouring effect of contrast. We know this, because we often see portions of the moon's surface which are illuminated by earthshine (when we see what is called the old moon in the new moon's arms), and these portions are quite faint by comparison with the rest of the moon; yet earthshine exceeds moonshine at least twelve times, and probably more nearly twenty times in splendour.

The glimmering phosphorescent light, supposed to have been seen on parts of Venus not lighted by the moon, is a phenomenon about which experienced telescopists are somewhat doubtful, though Webb speaks of the appearance as remarkably well attested, quoting, amongst others, the following cases. In 1715, Derham, in his "Astro-Theology," says that "the sphericity or rotundity is manifest in our moon, yea, and in Venus, too, in whose greatest falcations" (_i.e._, when they appear as crescents) "the dark parts of their globes may be perceived, exhibiting themselves under the appearance of a dull and rusty colour." In 1806, the phenomenon displayed itself beautifully to Harding three times and to Schröter once within five weeks. "Guthrie and others noticed it a few years ago, with small reflectors, in Scotland; Purchas, at Ross, in England; De Vico and Palomba, many times in Italy." Winnecke records a similar observation, though very faint, 1871, September 25, a little before noon. Van Hahn also says he saw it repeatedly, by day as well as by night, and with several instruments; he was, however, an inferior observer. The dark side is sometimes described as grey, sometimes as reddish. The phenomenon has, on the other hand, been looked for specially, on several occasions, by practised observers, using very fine instruments, who have failed to recognise any trace of it.

One of the most remarkable observations ever made on Venus must here be mentioned. Mädler states that on one occasion, when he was observing the planet, he saw a number of brushes of light diverging from the circular side (_i.e._, the outside of the planet's crescent), lasting as long as the planet could be seen that evening, and remaining unchanged when he changed the position of the telescopic eye-piece, or used a different one. "He attempts no explanation," says Webb, "but thinks it could not have been an optical illusion. This is certainly _possible_, but it is an instructive instance of the oversights which may be incidental even to great philosophers, that it never seems to have occurred to him to try another telescope!" It cannot be doubted that the evidence would have been greatly strengthened had he changed telescope as well as eye-piece; though it is not readily to be explained how a known telescope, frequently used as well before as after this strange appearance was seen, could for one evening only have played so strange a trick as Mädler's must have done, if what he saw was merely an instrumental illusion.

However, whether we have telescopic evidence or not respecting auroral lights surrounding the polar regions of other planets, we can have very little doubt that some among the planets, if not all of them, resemble our earth in this as in so many other respects. The aurora is a cosmical phenomenon, not one peculiar to our own earth. It is not, indeed, altogether certain that our sun himself may not be girt round by mighty auroral streamers, and that the light of these may not constitute a noteworthy portion of the corona of glory seen around him during the time of total eclipse.

This view, indeed, although it has not been definitely entertained as I have here expressed it, has been suggested by reasoning which led others to suppose that the coloured prominences around the sun may be auroras. Perceiving the nature of the connection between terrestrial magnetism and auroras, Balfour Stewart reasoned that we may extend our inquiries and ask, "If the sun's action is able to create a terrestrial aurora, why may he not also create an aurora in his own atmosphere?" It occurred independently to General Sabine, Prof. Challis, and himself, that the red flames visible during a total solar eclipse "may be solar auroræ." We now know that the solar flames are not auroræ, nor, properly speaking, flames at all, but great masses of glowing vapour. It is not, however, by any means so clear that the solar corona is not auroral in its nature. The following reasoning, applied by Balfour Stewart to the sun's prominences, applies with much greater force to the corona. After mentioning the height (from 70,000 to 80,000) which some prominences attain, he proceeds, "Considering the gravity of the sun, we are naturally unwilling to suppose that there can be any considerable amount of atmosphere at such a distance from his surface; and we are therefore induced to seek for an explanation of these red flames amongst those phenomena which require the smallest possible amount of atmosphere for their manifestation. Now the experiments of Mr. Gassiot and the observed height of the terrestrial aurora alike convince us that this meteor will answer our requirements best. And besides this, the curved appearance of these red flames, and their high actinic power, in virtue of which one of them, not visible to the eye, was photographed by Mr. De la Rue, are bonds of union between these and terrestrial auroræ."

All this and much more may be said of the solar corona. Its streamers extend not 70,000 or 80,000 miles, but 700,000 or 800,000 miles, from the surface of the sun, where the pressure must be far smaller than near the summits of even the loftiest prominences. They are curved and striated, like those of the aurora, whereas the shapes of the prominences bear only a distant resemblance to auroral streamers. They possess a high actinic (_i.e._, photographic) power, as is shewn by the readiness with which, during the total eclipse of December, 1871, they were photographed, no less than six well-defined negatives being taken both by Col. Tennant, at Ootacamund, and by Mr. Davis, at Baikal, during the brief continuance (only a few minutes) of total obscuration. In every respect the solar corona accords far better than do the solar coloured prominences with the appearance we should expect to recognise in solar auroras.

In particular, it has always seemed to me that the curved, especially the doubly curved, streamers of the corona can only be well explained by regarding the corona as in the main an auroral phenomenon. If mighty currents prevailed in the higher regions of a rare atmosphere, extending hundreds of thousands of miles from the sun's surface, appearances such as these curved streamers would undoubtedly be explained. But no one who considers the effect of the sun's tremendous attractive power on such an atmosphere can fail to perceive that, according to the known laws connecting gaseous pressure and density, the density of that atmosphere would be enormously great, even at a very great distance from the sun's surface, if the curved streamers really were caused by atmospheric currents. We know, on the contrary, from the behaviour of comets which have passed very near to the sun, that the atmosphere above his visible surface must be very rare indeed.

It must not be understood, however, that I regard the corona as simply a great solar aurora. It is certain that the whole region filled by the corona is occupied by immense numbers of scattered meteors, and extremely probable that large quantities of cometic matter exist within the same region. Vaporous masses may also be there, circling independently around the sun. But that this region is illuminated constantly by auroral light, varying greatly in intensity and position, seems very strongly indicated by all that we know about the corona, as seen during different total eclipses of the sun.

If we so viewed the solar corona, and found our earth, therefore, in this respect resembling the great central orb of the solar system, we could not but regard as extremely probable the theory that other planets also resemble the central body in this respect. We might then picture to ourselves every orb in the solar system carrying onward its faintly luminous crowns of boreal and austral light, not shining with constant lustre, or in the same constant position, but at one time leaping in coloured steamers to a great distance from the body they adorned, and anon sinking down and growing fainter and fainter, or occasionally disappearing altogether. Then, when some great disturbance affected the central sun, and caused _his_ auroral banners to shine out more brilliantly and to attain a greater extension, suddenly the auroral streamers of all the planets would leap out into new light and life, playing around the northern and southern magnetic poles of those orbs, even as electric brushes play around the positive and negative electrodes of a Geissler's tube. "Suddenly" at least so far as each planet is concerned, but not suddenly throughout the whole system. For the magnetic influences, like the light and heat of the sun, require time for their transmission. Yet, so rapidly do they travel that, in a few hours, the auroral illumination would extend from the central sun to the outermost limits of his system.

It remains that I should make a few remarks on the evidence which that wonderful instrument of research, the spectroscope, has afforded respecting the light of the aurora.

Angström was the first to observe the spectrum of the aurora borealis. He found that the greater part of the auroral light, as observed in 1867, was of one colour, yellow, but three faint bands of green and greenish blue colour were also seen. The aurora of April 15, 1869, was seen under very favourable conditions in America. Prof. Winlock, observing it at New York, found its spectrum to consist of five bright lines, of which the brightest was the yellow line just mentioned. One of the others seems to agree very nearly, if not exactly, in position with a green line, which is the most conspicuous feature of the spectrum of the solar corona. During the aurora of October 6, 1869, Flögel noticed the strong yellow line and a faint green band. Schmidt, on April 5, 1870, made a similar observation. He saw the strong yellow line, and from it there extended towards the violet end of the spectrum a faint greenish band, which, however, at times showed three defined lines, fainter, than the yellow line.

It was not till the magnificent aurora of October 24, 25, 1870, that any red lines were seen in the spectrum of an aurora. On that occasion the background of auroral light was ruddy, and on the ruddy background there were seen three deep red streamers very well defined. The ruddy streamers, on the night of October 25, converged towards the auroral crown, which was on that occasion singularly well seen. Förster of Berlin failed to see any red line or band despite the marked ruddiness of the auroral light. But Capron at Guildford saw a faint line in the red part of the spectrum; and Elger at Bedford observed a red band in the light of the red streamers, the band disappearing, however, when the spectroscope was directed on the white rays of the aurora.

As yet the auroral spectrum has not been interpreted. It is not a spectrum which can be (at present) artificially produced. We understand the spectrum of the sun and stars, because spectra of the same order can be produced in our laboratories. The spectra of the planets, so far as they differ from the spectrum of reflected sunlight in showing signs of the absorptive action of the planetary atmosphere, have been similarly interpreted. So also the spectra of the coloured solar prominences are understood, while those of nebulæ and comets, though not as yet thoroughly explained, have been partly interpreted, because of their partial agreement with the known spectra of earthly elements. But as yet neither the spectrum of the aurora nor that of the solar corona has been explained. The reason probably is, that the conditions under which the light of the aurora as of the corona is formed are not such as have been or perhaps can be attained or even approached in laboratory experiments.

VII.

_THE LUNAR HALO._

There are some phenomena of nature which suggest false ideas. For instance, when we look at the broad expanse of ocean on a moonlit night, and see a path of glory on its surface, directed towards the moon's place, we seem to be assured by the sense of sight that that broad track is illuminated while the waters all around are dark. A little consideration, however, assures us that the impression is a false one, that in this case seeing is not believing. The moon's rays really illumine the whole surface which lies before us, and we fail to receive light from other parts than the track below the moon, _not_ because they receive no light, but because the light which they receive is not reflected towards us. An observer, stationed a mile or two towards the right or towards the left of our station, sees a different track of light, while the part which seems bright to us seems dark to him.

The rainbow is another phenomenon of this deceptive kind. We seem to see an arch of many colours suspended in the air,--and when we learn that it is due to the presence of drops of water in the air, we are apt to infer that where we see the red arch there are drops lit up with red light, where the yellow, green, or violet arch, that the drops are aglow with yellow, green, or violet light. But in reality this is not so; the same drops which seem green to us will seem red to another observer, violet to another, and to yet other observers will show none of the prismatic colours, but only the dull grey colour of the cloud on which the rainbow is seen. We have here a pretty emblem of the varied aspects which events of the same real nature present to different persons, or according to the different circumstances under which the same person may see them. One shall see events in rosy tints, or with the freshness of spring hues, or with the melancholy symbolled by the

deeper indigo (as when
The heavy-skirted evening droops with frost)--

while to others the same events shall show only the ordinary tints of common-place life.

The lunar halo is one of the phenomena thus deceptive to the view. We see all around the moon a circle or arc of light, nearly white, though sometimes faint tints of colour can be perceived in it, while the space within the circle seems manifestly darker than the space outside. The appearance of the halo as seen under favourable conditions is shown in fig. 11, on the next page. In this country the dark space round the moon is not generally so well seen as in countries where the air is clearer. But this is in reality the characteristic feature of the halo, as its name shows. For the name is derived from a Greek word signifying threshing-floor (the old threshing-floors being round), and thus naturally describes a round space relatively clear, surrounded on all sides by a ring of aggregated matter.

We seem in looking at the lunar halo, then, to see the moon at the centre of a dark space, surrounded by a ring of bright particles, outside which again are particles not quite so brightly illuminated as those forming the ring, but more brightly than those within the ring.

But in reality this impression, which, so far as the sense of sight is concerned, seems _forced_ upon the mind, is entirely erroneous. There is no real distinction between the space which looks dark all round the moon, the space beyond which does not look dark, and the ring between the two spaces which looks bright. These are all equally illuminated by the moon, in the same sense, at least, that we say the surface of a moonlit sea is all equally illuminated, neglecting slight differences which do not concern the point we are specially dealing with. Precisely as the path of light on the ocean is not a real path of illumination, bounded on either side by dark spaces, so the ring of light round the moon is not a real ring of light, bounded on one side by a less bright region, and within by a dark space.

Although my object in these essays is not specially to deal with scientific matters, but rather with the thoughts (much more important in my belief) which they suggest--so that, in dealing with my present subject, I wish rather to call attention to the manifold ways in which our senses may deceive us unless their evidence is carefully cross-examined--yet it may be worth while to notice how the particular illusion here considered has deceived even the scientific elect.

It had been noticed by Tyndall, in certain experiments, that a very sensitive measurer of heat, when placed under the moon's rays, gathered together by a powerful condenser, seemed to indicate cooling rather than heating, as we should expect. On this a French student of science pointed to the darkening under the moon where the lunar halo is seen as evidence that our satellite possesses a certain power of clearing away vaporous matter from the air. "_On peut dire_," he said, speaking of the dark space within the halo, "_que la lune ouvre alors une porte par laquelle s'échappe le calorique que l'action solaire a emmagasiné dans les couches inférieures_." "One may say," that is, "that the moon then opens a door through which the heat escapes, which the sun's action has stored up in the lower layers" (of the air). It will be manifest, if we remember that a lunar halo can often be seen at the same time from stations hundreds of miles apart, that there can be no such opening of clear air. For the cloud layer in which the halo is formed is but a few miles above the observer; and therefore, if one observer saw a circular opening in this layer, with the moon at its centre, another, a hundred miles from him, would see the space in a very different direction. The moon would not only not be at the centre of the space for this second observer, but would not be visible through the space at all. Moreover, the space could not possibly seem round to both observers; if it seemed round to one, it would look like a very flat oval of darkness (almost a mere line) to the other.

The real explanation of the lunar halo is very different. When you see such a halo, you may be certain that there is, high up in the air, a layer of light feathery cloud--the cirrus cloud, as it is called--composed of tiny crystals of ice. These crystals, as we know from those which in winter sometimes fall (not as snow, but as little ice-stars), have all a definite shape. They are in fact little prisms of ice, with angles like those of an equilateral triangle. These little prisms deflect the light which falls upon them, just as one of the drops of a chandelier deflects any light which falls upon it. If you hold a prism-drop of a chandelier between the eye and a light, you will see that the prism looks dark; it is really lit up, but it sends the light away in such a direction that the eye receives none. Now move it gradually away from the line of sight to the light, and at a certain distance it appears full of light; or, to speak more correctly, it sends the light it receives directly towards your eye. Beyond that position it again looks dark, but not so dark as when it was nearly between the eye and the light.

The little crystals of ice perform the same part with respect to the moon, when we see a lunar halo. Those between us and the moon, or within a certain distance from the line of sight to the moon, are, in reality, lit up by the moon's rays; but they send off those rays in such directions that we do not receive the light. Thus, all the space lying towards the moon, and for a certain distance all round, looks dark. But, at a certain distance, these little crystals send us light. If we could see them separately, they would seem to be full of light. That is the distance where ice-crystals of their known shape act most favourably in deflecting light,--that is, send off most for all the varying positions (not places) they can be in. At greater distances, a small proportion send us light. Thus, at that distance we have a ring of light, and outside the ring we have a gradual falling off in the quantity of light.

But the reader will be apt, perhaps, to say, How can all this be proved? No one has ever been among the ice-crystals of the feathery clouds when they are performing this work. When Coxwell and Glaisher made their highest ascent, the feather-clouds seemed almost as high above them as ever. Nor, if any one could reach those clouds, could he see the ice-crystals at their work. Yet there are few points about which science is more certainly assured than about this explanation of the halo. For we know the shape constantly assumed by ice-crystals; we know according to what precise law ice bends rays of light falling upon it; hence we can calculate quite certainly where, if ice-crystals make the halo, its rings should be seen. And the halo has the precise position thus calculated from the known laws of optics, and the known facts about ice and ice-crystals. The diameter of the halo should be, and is, about eighty times the apparent diameter of the moon, or somewhat less than half the arc which separates the point overhead from the horizon.

There is, however, yet stronger evidence. Haloes form around the sun as well as round the moon,--in fact, more frequently. Solar haloes have so much more light in them that we can recognise varieties of tint. Now, it follows from the laws of optics that, for the red part of the sun's light, the halo ring should have a smaller diameter than the halo ring for the violet part, intermediate colours having their corresponding intermediate halo rings. Thus, the halo ring, as a whole, should be rainbow-tinted, red on the inside, then orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet; and these colours are shown (under favourable conditions) in this order.

The student looking out for haloes, solar or lunar, must be careful not to confound them with solar and lunar coronas, that is, not the corona of astronomy, but rings of light around the sun and moon, much smaller than the true halo rings. What I have said above about the size of the true halo will suffice to prevent such a mistake. Coronas are not nearly so _easily_, though they have been quite as thoroughly, explained by science, as haloes.

It is singular to observe how utterly unlike the interpretation of the halo by science is from the natural interpretation. The observer would say, There surely is a dark space all round the moon, and round that a ring of light,--I see these things, and seeing is believing. Science says there is no dark space, and there is no ring of light; while the eye of science perceives something where the lunar halo shines which ordinary vision cannot recognise. Up yonder, many miles above the earth, science sees millions of crystals of ice, carried hither and thither--so light are they--by every movement of the air. Science sees these ice crystals deflecting the rays of moonlight, sifting the red rays from the orange, and these from the yellow, yellow from green, green from blue, blue from indigo, and indigo from violet. Science, in fine, perceives processes taking place in those higher regions of air compared with which the most delicate analyses of the laboratory are utterly coarse and imperfect.

There is a purer and nobler poetry in the lunar halo as thus understood than in its mere visible phenomena, attractive and beautiful though these are. Idle indeed is the fear that the interpretation of this special mystery of nature will leave the number of nature's mysteries diminished by one. On the contrary, for the one mystery explained many deeper mysteries are suggested. The phenomena discernible by the sense of sight are explained, but only by bringing into the range of a purer and more piercing vision phenomena infinitely more wonderful. If one could see through some amazing extension of visual power, or if even the imagination could adequately picture, the rush of light waves of all orders of length upon the line of crystal breakers, their deflection in all directions, their separation into their various orders of wave-length; if one could perceive the actual illumination of the ice-crystals, even where they seem dark to us, and the continual fluctuations of the troubled sea of ether between the crystal breakers and the earth below,--the scene would infinitely transcend in interest and mystery, the picture would be infinitely more suggestive of solemn thoughts, than the scene--beautiful though it doubtless is--presented by the halo-girt moon to ordinary vision. Truly they know little of the real meaning of science who regard it as depriving natural phenomena of their effect on the imagination, as robbing Nature of her poetic influence.

VIII.

_MOONLIGHT._

The light of the moon and the changes of the moon were probably the first phenomena which led men to study the motions of the heavenly bodies. In our times, when most men live where artificial illumination is used at night, we can scarcely appreciate the full value of moonlight to men who cannot obtain artificial light. Especially must moonlight have been valuable to the class of men among whom, according to all traditions, the first astronomers appeared. The tiller of the soil might fare tolerably well without nocturnal light, though even he,--as indeed the familiar designation of the harvest-moon shows us,--finds special value, sometimes, in moonlight. But to the shepherd moonlight and its changes must have been of extreme importance as he watched his herds and flocks by night. We can understand how carefully he would note the change from the new moon to the time when throughout the whole night, or at least of the darkest hours, the full moon illuminated the hills and valleys over which his watch extended, and thence to the time when the sickle of the fast waning moon shone but for a short time before the rising of the sun. To him, naturally, the lunar month, and its subdivision, the week, would be the chief measure of time. He would observe--or rather he could not help observing--the passage of the moon around the zodiacal band, some twenty moon-breadths wide, which is the lunar roadway among the stars. These would be the first purely astronomical observations made by man; so that we learn without surprise that before the present division of the zodiac was adopted the old Chaldean astronomers (as well as the Indian, Persian, Egyptian, and Chinese astronomers, who still follow the practice) divided the zodiac into 28 lunar mansions, each mansion corresponding nearly to one day's motion of the moon among the stars.

It is easy to understand how the first rough observations of moonlight and its changes taught men the true nature of the moon, as an opaque globe circling round the earth, and borrowing her light from the sun. They perceived, first, that the moon was only full when she was opposite the sun, shining at her highest in the south at midnight when the sun was at his lowest beneath the northern horizon. Before the time of full moon, they saw that more or less of the moon's disc was illuminated as he was nearer or farther from the position opposite the sun, the illuminated side being towards the west--that is, towards the sun; while after full moon the same law was perceived in the amount of light, the illuminated side being still towards the sun, that is, towards the east. They could not fail to observe the horned moon sometimes in the daytime, with her horns turned directly from the sun, and showing as plainly, by her aspect, whence her light was derived, as does any terrestrial ball lit up either by a lamp or by the sun.

The explanation they gave was the explanation still given by astronomers. Let us briefly consider it. In doing so I propose to modify the ordinary text-book illustration which has always seemed to me ingeniously calculated (with its double set of diversely illuminated moons around the earth) to make a simple subject obscure.

In fig. 12, let E represent the earth one half in darkness, the other half illuminated by the rays of the sun S, which should be supposed placed at a much greater distance to the left,--in fact, about five yards away from E. To preserve the right proportions, also, the sun ought to be much smaller and the earth a mere point. I mention this to prevent the reader from adopting erroneous ideas as to the size of these bodies. In reality it is quite impossible to show in such figures the true proportions of the heavenly bodies and of their distances. Next let M_{1}, M_{2}, M_{3}, etc., represent the moon in different positions along her circuit around the earth at E.