Chapter III: Part 3

It is not necessary for two observers to actually station themselves at two distant parts of the earth in order to determine a parallax. If an observer could go from one end of the base-line to the other, he could determine both angles. Every observer is actually carried along through space by two motions: one is that of the earth's revolution of one thousand miles an hour around the axis; and the other is the movement of the earth around the sun of one thousand miles in a minute. Hence we can have the diameter not only of [Page 70] the earth (eight thousand miles) for a base-line, but the diameter of the earth's orbit (184,000,000 miles), or any part of it, for such a base. Two observers at the ends of the earth's diameter, looking at a star at the same instant, would find that it made the same angle at both ends; it has no parallax on so short a base. We must seek a longer one. Observe a certain star on the 21st of March; then let us traverse the realms of space for six months, at one thousand miles a minute. We come round in our orbit to a point opposite where we were six months ago, with 184,000,000 of miles between the points. Now, with this for a base-line, measure the angles of the same stars: it is the same angle. Sitting in my study here, I glance out of the window and discern separate bricks, in houses five hundred feet away, with my unaided eye; they subtend a discernible angle. But one thousand feet away I cannot distinguish individual bricks; their width, being only two inches, does not subtend an angle apprehensible to my vision. So at these distant stars the earth's enormous orbit, if lying like a blazing ring in space, with the world set on its edge like a pearl, and the sun blazing like a diamond in the centre, would all shrink to a mere point. Not quite to a point from the nearest stars, or we should never be able to measure the distance of any of them. Professor Airy says that our orbit, seen from the nearest star, would be the same as a circle six-tenths of an inch in diameter seen at the distance of a mile: it would all be hidden by a thread one-twenty-fifth of an inch in diameter, held six hundred and fifty feet from the eye. If a straight line could be drawn from a star, Sirius in the east to the star Vega in the west, touching our [Page 71] earth's orbit on one side, as T R A (Fig. 28), and a line were to be drawn six months later from the same stars, touching our earth's orbit on the other side, as R B T, such a line would not diverge sufficiently from a straight line for us to detect its divergence. Numerous vain attempts had been made, up to the year 1835, to detect and measure the angle of parallax by which we could rescue some one or more of the stars from the inconceivable depths of space, and ascertain their distance from us. We are ever impelled to triumph over what is declared to be unconquerable. There are peaks in the Alps no man has ever climbed. They are assaulted every year by men zealous of more worlds to conquer. So these greater heights of the heavens have been assaulted, till some ambitious spirits have outsoared even imagination by the certainties of mathematics.

It is obvious that if one star were three times as far from us as another, the nearer one would seem to be displaced by our movement in our orbit three times as much as the other; so, by comparing one star with another, we reach a ground of judgment. The ascertainment of longitude at sea by means of the moon affords a good illustration. Along the track where the moon sails, nine bright stars, four planets, and the sun have been selected. The nautical almanacs give the distance of the moon from these successive stars every hour in the night for three years in advance. The sailor can measure the distance at any time by his sextant. Looking from the world at D (Fig. 29), the distance of the moon and [Page 72] star is A E, which is given in the almanac. Looking from C, the distance is only B E, which enables even the uneducated sailor to find the distance, C D, on the earth, or his distance from Greenwich.

So, by comparisons of the near and far stars, the approximate distance of a few of them has been determined. The nearest one is the brightest star in the Centaur, never visible in our northern latitudes, which has a parallax of about one second. The next nearest is No. 61 in the Swan, or 61 Cygni, having a parallax of 0".34. Approximate measurements have been made on Sirius, Capella, the Pole Star, etc., about eighteen in all. The distances are immense: only the swiftest agents can traverse them. If our earth were suddenly to dissolve its allegiance to the king of day, and attempt a flight to the North Star, and should maintain its flight of one thousand miles a minute, it would flyaway toward Polaris for thousands upon thousands of years, till a million years had passed away, before it reached that northern dome of the distant sky, and gave its new allegiance to another sun. The sun it had left behind it would gradually diminish till it was small as Arcturus, then small as could be discerned by the naked eye, until at last it would finally fade out in utter darkness long before the new sun was reached. Light can traverse the distance around our earth eight times in one second. It comes in eight minutes from the sun, but it takes three and a quarter years to come from Alpha [Page 73] Centauri, seven and a quarter years from 61 Cygni, and forty-five years from the Polar Star.

Sometimes it happens that men steer along a lee shore, dependent for direction on Polaris, that light-house in the sky. Sometimes it has happened that men have traversed great swamps by night when that star was the light-housse of freedom. In either case the exigency of life and liberty was provided for forty-five years before by a Providence that is divine.

We do not attempt to name in miles these enormous distances; we must seek another yard-stick. Our astronomical unit and standard of measurement is the distance of the earth from the sun--92,500,000 miles. This is the golden reed with which we measure the celestial city. Thus, by laying down our astronomical unit 226,000 times, we measure to Alpha Centauri, more than twenty millions of millions of miles. Doubtless other suns are as far from Alpha Centauri and each other as that is from ours.

Stars are not near or far according to their brightness. 61 Cygni is a telescopic star, while Sirius, the brightest star in the heavens, is twice as far away from us. One star differs from another star in intrinsic glory.

The highest testimonies to the accuracy of these celestial observations are found in the perfect predictions of eclipses, transits of planets over the sun, occultation of stars by the moon, and those statements of the Nautical Almanac that enable the sailor to know exactly where he is on the pathless ocean by the telling of the stars: "On the trackless ocean this book is the mariner's trusted friend and counsellor; daily and nightly its revelations bring safety to ships in all parts of the [Page 74] world. It is something more than a mere book; it is an ever-present manifestation of the order and harmony of the universe."

Another example of this wonderful accuracy is found in tracing the asteroids. Within 200,000,000 or 300,000,000 miles from the sun, the one hundred and ninety-two minute bodies that have been already discovered move in paths very nearly the same--indeed two of them traverse the same orbit, being one hundred and eighty degrees apart;--they look alike, yet the eye of man in a few observations so determines the curve of each orbit, that one is never mistaken for another. But astronomy has higher uses than fixing time, establishing landmarks, and guiding the sailor. It greatly quickens and enlarges thought, excites a desire to know, leads to the utmost exactness, and ministers to adoration and love of the Maker of the innumerable suns.

[Page 75] V.

THE SUN.

"And God made two great lights; the greater light to rule the day, and the lesser light to rule the night: he made the stars also."--_Gen._ i. 16.

[Page 76] "It is perceived that the sun of the world, with all its essence, which is heat and light, flows into every tree, and into every shrub and flower, and into every stone, mean as well as precious; and that every object takes its portion from this common influx, and that the sun does not divide its light and heat, and dispense a part to this and a part to that. It is similar with the sun of heaven, from which the Divine love proceeds as heat, and the Divine wisdom as light; these two flow into human minds, as the heat and light of the sun of the world into bodies, and vivify them according to the quality of the minds, each of which takes from the common influx as much as is necessary."--SWEDENBORG.

[Page 77] V.

_THE SUN._

Suppose we had stood on the dome of Boston Statehouse November 9th, 1872, on the night of the great conflagration, and seen the fire break out; seen the engines dash through the streets, tracking their path by their sparks; seen the fire encompass a whole block, leap the streets on every side, surge like the billows of a storm-swept sea; seen great masses of inflammable gas rise like dark clouds from an explosion, then take fire in the air, and, cut off from the fire below, float like argosies of flame in space. Suppose we had felt the wind that came surging from all points of the compass to fan that conflagration till it was light enough a mile away to see to read the finest print, hot enough to decompose the torrents of water that were dashed on it, making new fuel to feed the flame. Suppose we had seen this spreading fire seize on the whole city, extend to its environs, and, feeding itself on the very soil, lick up Worcester with its tongues of flame--Albany, New York, Chicago, St. Louis, Cincinnati--and crossing the plains swifter than a prairie fire, making each peak of the Rocky Mountains hold up aloft a separate torch of flame, and the Sierras whiter with heat than they ever were with snow, the waters of the Pacific resolve into their constituent elements of oxygen and hydrogen, and [Page 78] burn with unquenchable fire! We withdraw into the air, and see below a world on fire. All the prisoned powers have burst into intensest activity. Quiet breezes have become furious tempests. Look around this flaming globe--on fire above, below, around--there is nothing but fire. Let it roll beneath us till Boston comes round again. No ember has yet cooled, no spire of flame has shortened, no surging cloud has been quieted. Not only are the mountains still in flame, but other ranges burst up out of the seething sea. There is no place of rest, no place not tossing with raging flame! Yet all this is only a feeble figure of the great burning sun. It is but the merest hint, a million times too insignificant.

The sun appears small and quiet to us because we are so far away. Seen from the various planets, the relative size of the sun appears as in Fig. 30. Looked for from some of the stars about us, the sun could not be seen at all. Indeed, seen from the earth, it is not always the same size, because the distance is not always the same. If we represent the size of the sun by one thousand on the 23d of September or 21st of March, it would be represented by nine hundred and sixty-seven on the 1st of July, and by one thousand and thirty-four on the 1st of January.

We sometimes speak of the sun as having a diameter of 860,000 miles. We mean that that is the extent of the body as soon by the eye. But that is a small part of its real diameter. So we say the earth has an equatorial diameter of 7925-1/2 miles, and a polar one of 7899. But the air is as much a part of the earth as the rocks are. The electric currents are as much a part of the [Page 79] earth as the ores and mountains they traverse. What the diameter of the earth is, including these, no man can tell. We used to say the air extended forty-five miles, but we now know that it reaches vastly farther. So of the sun, we might almost say that its diameter is infinite, for its light and heat reach beyond our measurement. Its living, throbbing heart sends out pulsations, keeping all space full of its tides of living light.

[Page 80]

We might say with evident truth that the far-off planets are a part of the sun, since the space they traverse is filled with the power of that controlling king; not only with light, but also with gravitating power.

But come to more ponderable matters. If we look [Page 81] into our western sky soon after sunset, on a clear, moonless night in March or April, we shall see a dim, soft light, somewhat like the milky-way, often reaching, well defined, to the Pleiades. It is wedge-shaped, inclined to the south, and the smallest star can easily be seen through it. Mairan and Cassini affirm that they have seen sudden sparkles and movements of light in it. All our best tests show the spectrum of this light to be continuous, and therefore reflected; which indicates that it is a ring of small masses of meteoric matter surrounding the sun, revolving with it and reflecting its light. One bit of stone as large as the end of one's thumb, in a cubic mile, would be enough to reflect what light we see looking through millions of miles of it. Perhaps an eye sufficiently keen and far away would see the sun surrounded by a luminous disk, as Saturn is with his rings. As it extends beyond the earth's orbit, if this be measured as a part of the sun, its diameter would be about 200,000,000 miles.

Come closer. When the sun is covered by the disk of the moon at the instant of total eclipse, observers are startled by strange swaying luminous banners, ghostly and weird, shooting in changeful play about the central darkness (Fig. 32). These form the corona. Men have usually been too much moved to describe them, and have always been incapable of drawing them in the short minute or two of their continuance. But in 1878 men travelled eight thousand miles, coming and returning, in order that they might note the three minutes of total eclipse in Colorado. Each man had his work assigned to him, and he was drilled to attend to that and nothing else. Improved instruments were put into his [Page 82] hands, so that the sun was made to do his own drawing and give his own picture at consecutive instants. Fig. 33 is a copy of a photograph of the corona of 1878, by Mr. Henry Draper. It showed much less changeability that year than common, it being very near the time of least sun-spot. The previous picture was taken near the time of maximum sun-spot.

It was then settled that the corona consists of reflected light, sent to us from dust particles or meteoroids swirling in the vast seas, giving new densities and [Page 83] rarities, and hence this changeful light. Whether they are there by constant projection, and fall again to the sun, or are held by electric influence, or by force of orbital revolution, we do not know. That the corona cannot be in any sense an atmosphere of any continuous gas, is seen from the fact that the comet of 1843, passing within 93,000 miles of the body of the sun, was not burned out of existence as a comet, nor in any perceptible degree retarded in its motion. If the sun's diameter is to include the corona, it will be from 1,260,000 to 1,460,000 miles.

[Page 84] Come closer still. At the instant of the totality of the eclipse red flames of most fantastic shape play along the edge of the moon's disk. They can be seen at any time by the use of a proper telescope with a spectroscope attached. I have seen them with great distinctness and brilliancy with the excellent eleven-inch telescope of the Wesleyan University. A description of their appearance is best given in the language of Professor Young, of Princeton College, who has made these flames the object of most successful study. On September 7th, 1871, he was observing a large hydrogen cloud by the sun's edge. This cloud was about 100,000 miles long, and its upper side was some 50,000 miles above the sun's surface, the lower side some 15,000 miles. The whole had the appearance of being supported on pillars of fire, these seeming pillars being in reality hydrogen jets brighter and more active than the substance of the cloud. At half-past twelve, when Professor Young chanced to be called away from his observatory, there were no indications of any approaching change, except that one of the connecting stems of the southern extremity of the cloud had grown considerably brighter and more curiously bent to one side; and near the base of another, at the northern end, a little brilliant lump had developed itself, shaped much like a summer thunderhead.

But when Professor Young returned, about half an hour later, he found that a very wonderful change had taken place, and that a very remarkable process was actually in progress. "The whole thing had been literally blown to shreds," he says, "by some inconceivable uprush from beneath. In place of the quiet cloud I had [Page 87] left, the air--if I may use the expression--was filled with the flying _débris_, a mass of detached vertical fusi-form fragments, each from ten to thirty seconds (_i. e._, from four thousand five hundred to thirteen thousand five hundred miles) long, by two or three seconds (nine hundred to thirteen hundred and fifty miles) wide--brighter, and closer together where the pillars had formerly stood, and rapidly ascending. When I looked, some of them had already reached a height of nearly four minutes (100,000 miles); and while I watched them they arose with a motion almost perceptible to the eye, until, in ten minutes, the uppermost were more than 200,000 miles above the solar surface. This was ascertained by careful measurements, the mean of three closely accordant determinations giving 210,000 miles as the extreme altitude attained. I am particular in the statement, because, so far as I know, chromatospheric matter (red hydrogen in this case) has never before been observed at any altitude exceeding five minutes, or 135,000 miles. The velocity of ascent, also--one hundred and sixty-seven miles per second--is considerably greater than anything hitherto recorded. * * * As the filaments arose, they gradually faded away like a dissolving cloud, and at a quarter past one only a few filmy wisps, with some brighter streamers low down near the chromatosphere, remained to mark the place. But in the mean while the little 'thunder-head' before alluded to had grown and developed wonderfully into a mass of rolling and ever-changing flame, to speak according to appearances. First, it was crowded down, as it were, along the solar surface; later, it arose almost pyramidally 50,000 miles in height; then [Page 88] its summit was drawn down into long filaments and threads, which were most curiously rolled backward and forward, like the volutes of an Ionic capital, and finally faded away, and by half-past two had vanished like the other. The whole phenomenon suggested most forcibly the idea of an explosion under the great prominence, acting mainly upward, but also in all directions outward; and then, after an interval, followed by a corresponding in-rush."

No language can convey nor mind conceive an idea of the fierce commotion we here contemplate. If we call these movements hurricanes, we must remember that what we use as a figure moves but one hundred miles an hour, while these move one hundred miles a second. Such storms of fire on earth, "coming down upon us from the north, would, in thirty seconds after they had crossed the St. Lawrence, be in the Gulf of Mexico, carrying with them the whole surface of the continent in a mass not simply of ruins but of glowing vapor, in which the vapors arising from the dissolution of the materials composing the cities of Boston, New York, and Chicago would be mixed in a single indistinguishable cloud." In the presence of these evident visions of an actual body in furious flame, we need hesitate no longer in accepting as true the words of St. Peter of the time "in which the [atmospheric] heavens shall pass away with a great noise, and the elements shall melt with fervent heat; the earth also, and the works that are therein, shall be burned up."

This region of discontinuous flame below the corona is called the chromosphere. Hydrogen is the principal material of its upper part; iron, magnesium, and other [Page 89] metals, some of them as yet unknown on earth, but having a record in the spectrum, in the denser parts below. If these fierce fires are a part of the Sun, as they assuredly are, its diameter would be from 1,060,000 to 1,260,000 miles.

Let us approach even nearer. We see a clearly recognized even disk, of equal dimensions in every direction. This is the photosphere. We here reach some definitely measurable data for estimating its visible size. We already know its distance. Its disk subtends an angle of 32' 12".6, or a little more than half a degree. Three hundred and sixty such suns, laid side by side, would span the celestial arch from east to west with a half circle of light. Two lines drawn from our earth at the angle mentioned would be 860,000 miles apart at the distance of 92,500,000 miles. This, then, is the diameter of the visible and measurable part of the sun. It would require one hundred and eight globes like the earth in a line to measure the sun's diameter, and three hundred and thirty-nine, to be strung like the beads of a necklace, to encircle his waist. The sun has a volume equal to 1,245,000 earths, but being only one-quarter as dense, it has a mass of only 326,800 earths. It has seven hundred times the mass of all the planets, asteroids, and satellites put together. Thus it is able to control them all by its greater power of attraction.

Concerning the condition of the surface of the sun many opinions are held. That it is hot beyond all estimate is indubitable. Whether solid or gaseous we are not sure. Opinions differ: some incline to the first theory, others to the second; some deem the sun composed of solid particles, floating in gas so condensed [Page 90] by pressure and attraction as to shine like a solid. It has no sensible changes of general level, but has prodigious activity in spots. These spots have been the objects of earnest and almost hourly study on the part of such men as Secchi, Lockyer, Faye, Young, and others, for years. But it is a long way off to study an object. No telescope brings it nearer than 200,000 miles. Theory after theory has been advanced, each one satisfactory in some points, none in all. The facts about the spots are these: They are most abundant on the two sides of the equator. They are gregarious, depressed below the surface, of vast extent, black in the centre, usually surrounded by a region of partial darkness, beyond which is excessive light. They have motion of their own over the surface--motion rotating about an axis, upward and downward about the edges. They change their apparent shape as the sun carries them across its disk by axial revolution, being narrow as they present their edges to us, and rounder as we look perpendicularly into them (Fig. 35).

These spots are also very variable in number, sometimes there being none for nearly two hundred days, and again whole years during which the sun is never without them. The period from minimum to maximum [Page 91] of spots is about eleven years. We might look for them again and again in vain this year (1878). They will be most numerous in 1882 and 1893. The cause of this periodicity was inferred to be the near approach of the enormous planet Jupiter, causing disturbance by its attraction. But the periods do not correspond, and the cause is the result of some law of solar action to us as yet unknown.

These spots may be seen with almost any telescope, the eye being protected by deeply colored glasses.

Until within one hundred years they were supposed to be islands of scoriæ floating in the sea of molten matter. But they were depressed below the surface, and showed a notch when on the edge. Wilson originated and Herschel developed the theory that the sun's real body was dark, cool, and habitable, and that the photosphere was a luminous stratum at a distance from the real body, with openings showing the dark spots below. Such a sun would have cooled off in a week, but would previously have annihilated all life below.

The solar spots being most abundant on the two sides of the equator, indicates their cyclonic character; the centre of a cyclone is rarefied, and therefore colder, and cold on the sun is darkness. M. Faye says: "Like our cyclones, they are descending, as I have proved by a special study of these terrestrial phenomena. They carry down into the depths of the solar mass the cooler materials of the upper layers, formed principally of hydrogen, and thus produce in their centre a decided extinction of light and heat as long as the gyratory movement continues. Finally, the hydrogen set free at the base of the whirlpool becomes reheated at this [Page 92] great depth, and rises up tumultuously around the whirlpool, forming irregular jets, which appear above the chromosphere. These jets constitute the protuberances. The whirlpools of the sun, like those on the earth, are of all dimensions, from the scarcely visible pores to the enormous spots which we see from time to time. They have, like those of the earth, a marked tendency, first to increase and then to break up, and thus form a row of spots extending along the same parallel."

A spot of 20,000 miles diameter is quite small; there was one 14,816 miles across, visible to the naked eye for a week in 1843. This particular sun-spot somewhat [Page 93] helped the Millerites. On the day of the eclipse, in 1858, a spot over 107,000 miles in extent was clearly seen. In such vast tempests, if there were ships built as large as the whole earth, they would be tossed like autumn leaves in an ocean storm.

The revolution of the sun carries a spot across its face in about fourteen days. After a lapse of as much more time, they often reappear on the other side, changed but recognizable. They often break ont or disappear under the eye of the observer. They divide like a piece of ice dropped on a frozen pond, the pieces sliding off in every direction, or combine like separate floes driven together into a pack. Sometimes a spot will last for more than two hundred days, recognizable through six or eight revolutions. Sometimes a spot will last only half an hour.

The velocities indicated by these movements are incredible. An up-rush and down-rush at the sides has been measured of twenty miles a second; a side-rush or whirl, of one hundred and twenty miles a second. These tempests rage from a few days to half a year, traversing regions so wide that our Indian Ocean, the realm of storms, is too small to be used for comparison; then, as they cease, the advancing sides of the spots approach each other at the rate of 20,000 miles an hour; they strike together, and the rising spray of fire leaps thousands of miles into space. It falls again into the incandescent surge, rolls over mountains as the sea over pebbles, and all this for eon after eon without sign of exhaustion or diminution. All these swift succeeding Himalayas of fire, where one hundred worlds could be buried, do not usually prevent the sun's appearing to our far-off eyes as a perfect sphere.

[Page 94] _What the Sun does for us._

To what end does this enormous power, this central source of power, exist? That it could keep all these gigantic forces within itself could not be expected. It is in a system where every atom is made to affect every other atom, and every world to influence every other. The Author of all lives only to do good, to send rain on the just and unjust, to cause his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and to give his spirit, like a perpetually widening river, to every man to profit withal.

The sun reaches his unrelaxing hand of gravitation to every other world at every instant. The tendency of every world is to fly off in a straight line. This tendency must be momentarily curbed, and the planet held in its true curve about the sun. These giant worlds must be perfectly handled. Their speed, amounting to seventy times as fast as that of a rifle-ball, must be managed. Each and every world may be said to be lifted momentarily and swung perpetually at arm's-length by the power of the sun.

The sun warms us. It would convey but a small idea of the truth to state how many hundreds of millions of cubic miles of ice could be hailed at the sun every second without affecting its heat; but, if any one has any curiosity to know, it is 287,200,000 cubic miles of ice per second.

We journey through space which has a temperature of 200° below zero; but we live, as it were, in a conservatory, in the midst of perpetual winter. We are roofed over by the air that treasures the heat, floored under by strata both absorptive and retentive of heat, [Page 95] and between the earth and air violets grow and grains ripen. The sun has a strange chemical power. It kisses the cold earth, and it blushes with flowers and matures the fruit and grain. We are feeble creatures, and the sun gives us force. By it the light winds move one-eighth of a mile an hour, the storm fifty miles, the hurricane one hundred. The force is as the square of the velocity. It is by means of the sun that the merchant's white-sailed ships are blown safely home. So the sun carries off the miasma of the marsh, the pollution of cities, and then sends the winds to wash and cleanse themselves in the sea-spray. The water-falls of the earth turn machinery, and make Lowells and Manchesters possible, because the sun lifted all that water to the hills.

Intermingled with these currents of air are the currents of electric power, all derived from the sun. These have shown their swiftness and willingness to serve man. The sun's constant force displayed on the earth is equal to 543,000,000,000 engines of 400-horse power each, working day and night; and yet the earth receives only 1/21500000000 part of the whole force of the sun.

Besides all this, the sun, with provident care, has made and given to us coal. This omnipotent worker has stored away in past ages an inexhaustible reservoir of his power which man may easily mine and direct, thus releasing himself from absorbing toil.

EXPERIMENTS.

Any one may see the spots on the sun who has a spy-glass. Darken the room and put the glass through an opening toward the sun, as shown in Fig. 37. The eye-piece should be drawn out about half an inch beyond [Page 96] its usual focusing for distant objects. The farther it is drawn, the nearer must we hold the screen for a perfect image.

By holding a paper near the eye-piece, the proper direction of the instrument may be discovered without injury to the eyes. By this means the sun can be studied from day to day, and its spots or the transits of Mercury and Venus shown to any number of spectators.

First covering the eyes with very dark or smoked glasses, erect a disk of pasteboard four inches in diameter between you and the sun; close one eye; stand near it, and the whole sun is obscured. Withdraw from it till the sun's rays just shoot over the edge of the disk on every side. Measure the distance from the eye to the disk. You will be able to determine the distance of the sun by the rule of three: thus, as four inches is to 860,000 miles, so is distance from eye to disk to distance from disk to the sun. Take such measurements at sunrise, noon, and sunset, and see the apparently differing sizes due to refraction.

[Page 97] VI.

THE PLANETS, AS SEEN FROM SPACE.

"He hangeth the earth upon nothing."--_Job_ xxvi. 7.

[Page 98] "Let a power be delegated to a finite spirit equal to the projection of the most ponderous planet in its orbit, and, from an exhaustless magazine, let this spirit select his grand central orb. Let him with puissant arm locate it in space, and, obedient to his mandate, there let it remain forever fixed. He proceeds to select his planetary globes, which he is now required to marshal in their appropriate order of distance from the sun. Heed well this distribution; for should a single globe be misplaced, the divine harmony is destroyed forever. Let us admit that finite intelligence may at length determine the order of combination; the mighty host is arrayed in order. These worlds, like fiery coursers, stand waiting the command to fly. But, mighty spirit, heed well the grand step, ponder well the direction in which thou wilt launch each wailing world; weigh well the mighty impulse soon to be given, for out of the myriads of directions, and the myriads of impulsive forces, there comes but a single combination that will secure the perpetuity of your complex scheme. In vain does the bewildered finite spirit attempt to fathom this mighty depth. In vain does it seek to resolve the stupendous problem. It turns away, and while endued with omnipotent power, exclaims, 'Give to me infinite wisdom, or relieve me from the impossible task!'"-0. M. MITCHEL, LL. D.

[Page 99] VI.

_THE PLANETS, AS SEEN FROM SPACE_

If we were to go out into space a few millions of miles from either pole of the sun, and were endowed with wonderful keenness of vision, we should perceive certain facts, viz: That space is frightfully dark except when we look directly at some luminous body. There is no air to bend the light out of its course, no clouds or other objects to reflect it in a thousand directions. Every star is a brilliant point, even in perpetual sunshine. The cold is frightful beyond the endurance of our bodies. There is no sound of voice in the absence of air, and conversation by means of vocal organs being impossible, it must be carried on by means of mind communication. We see below an unrevolving point on the sun that marks its pole. Ranged round in order are the various planets, each with its axis pointing in very nearly the same direction. All planets, except possibly Venus, and all moons except those of Uranus and Neptune, present their equators to the sun. The direction of orbital and axial revolution seen from above the North Pole would be opposite to that of the hands of a watch.

The speed of this orbital revolution must be proportioned to the distance from the sun. The attraction of the sun varies inversely as the square of the distance. [Page 100] It holds a planet with a certain power; one twice as far off, with one-fourth that power. This attraction must be counterbalanced by centrifugal force; great force from great speed when attraction is great, and small from less [Page 101] speed when attractive power is diminished by distance. Hence Mercury must go 29.5 miles per second--seventy times as fast as a rifle-ball that goes two-fifths of a mile in a second--or be drawn into the sun; while Neptune, seventy-five times as far off, and hence attracted only 1/5626 as much, must be slowed down to 3.4 miles a second to prevent its flying away from the feebler attraction of the sun. The orbital velocity of the various planets in miles per second is as follows:

Mercury 29.55 | Jupiter 8.06
Venus 21.61 | Saturn 5.95
Earth 18.38 | Uranus 4.20
Mars 14.99 | Neptune 3.36

Hence, while the earth makes one revolution in its year, Mercury has made over four revolutions, or passed through four years; the slower Neptune has made only 1/164 of one revolution.

The time of axial revolution which determines the length of the day varies with different planets. The periods of the four planets nearest the sun vary only half an hour from that of the earth, while the enormous bodies of Jupiter and Saturn revolve in ten and ten and a quarter hours respectively. This high rate of speed, and its resultant, centrifugal force, has aided in preventing these bodies from becoming as dense as they would otherwise be--Jupiter being only 0.24 as dense as the earth, and Saturn only 0.13. This extremely rapid revolution produces a great flattening at the poles. If Jupiter should rotate four times more rapidly than it does, it could not be held together compactly. As it is, the polar diameter is five thousand miles less than the equatorial: the difference in diameters produced by the [Page 102] same cause on the earth, owing to the slower motion and smaller mass, being only twenty-six miles. The effect of this will be more specifically treated hereafter.

The difference in the size of the planets is very noticeable. If we represent the sun by a gilded globe two feet in diameter, we must represent Vulcan and Mercury by mustard-seeds; Venus, by a pea; Earth, by another; Mars, by one-half the size; Asteroids, by the motes in a sunbeam; Jupiter, by a small-sized orange; Saturn, by a smaller one; Uranus, by a cherry; and Neptune, by one a little larger.

Apply the principle that attraction is in proportion to the mass, and a man who weighs one hundred and fifty pounds on the earth weighs three hundred and ninety-six on Jupiter, and only fifty-eight on Mars; while on the Asteroids he could play with bowlders for marbles, hurl hills like Milton's angels, leap into the fifth-story windows with ease, tumble over precipices without harm, and go around the little worlds in seven jumps.

The seasons of a planet are caused by the inclination of its axis to the plane of its orbit. In Fig. 39 the rotating earth is seen at A, with its northern pole turning in constant sunlight, and its southern pole in constant darkness; everywhere south of the equator is more darkness than day, and hence winter. Passing on to B, the world is seen illuminated equally on each side of the equator. Every place has its twelve hours' darkness and light at each revolution. But at C--the axis of the earth always preserving the same direction--the northern pole is shrouded in continual gloom. Every place [Page 105] north of the equator gets more darkness than light, and hence winter.

The varying inclination of the axes of the different planets gives a wonderful variety to their seasons. The sun is always nearly over the equator of Jupiter, and every place has nearly its five hours day and five hours night. The seasons of Earth, Mars, and Saturn are so much alike, except in length, that no comment is necessary. The ice-fields at either pole of Mars are observed to enlarge and contract, according as it is winter or summer there. Saturn's seasons are each seven and a half years long. The alternate darkness and light at the poles is fifteen years long.

But the seasons of Venus present the greatest anomaly, if its assigned inclination of axis (75°) can be relied on as correct, which is doubtful. Its tropic zone extends nearly to the pole, and at the same time the winter at the other pole reaches the equator. The short period of this planet causes it to present the south pole to the sun only one hundred and twelve days after it has been scorching the one at the north. This gives two winters, springs, summers, and autumns to the equator in two hundred and twenty-five days.

If each whirling world should leave behind it a trail of light to mark its orbit, and our perceptions of form were sufficiently acute, we should see that these curves of light are not exact circles, but a little flattened into an ellipse, with the sun always in one of the foci. Hence each planet is nearer to the sun at one part of its orbit than another; that point is called the perihelion, and the farthest point aphelion. This eccentricity of orbit, or distance of the sun from the centre, is very small. [Page 106] In the case of Venus it is only .007 of the whole, and in no instance is it more than .2, viz., that of Mercury. This makes the sun appear twice as large, bright, and hot as seen and felt on Mercury at its perihelion than at its aphelion. The earth is 3,236,000 miles nearer to the sun in our winter than summer. Hence the summer in the southern hemisphere is more intolerable than in the northern. But this eccentricity is steadily diminishing at a uniform rate, by reason of the perturbing influence of the other planets. In the case of some other planets it is steadily increasing, and, if it were to go on a sufficient time, might cause frightful extremes of temperature; but Lalande has shown that there are limits at which it is said, "Thus far shalt thou go, and no farther." Then a compensative diminution will follow.

Conceive a large globe, to represent the sun, floating in a round pond. The axis will be inclined 7-1/2° to the surface of the water, one side of the equator be 7-1/2° below the surface, and the other side the same distance above. Let the half-submerged earth sail around the sun in an appropriate orbit. The surface of the water will be the plane of the orbit, and the water that reaches out to the shore, where the stars would be set, will be the plane of the ecliptic. It is the plane of the earth's orbit extended to the stars.

The orbits of all the planets do not lie in the same plane, but are differently inclined to the plane of the ecliptic, or the plane of the earth's orbit. Going out from the sun's equator, so as to see all the orbits of the planets on the edge, we should see them inclined to that of the earth, as in Fig. 40.

If the earth, and Saturn, and Pallas were lying in [Page 107] the same direction from the sun, and the outer bodies were to start in a direct line for the sun, they would not collide with the earth on their way; but Saturn would pass 4,000,000 and Pallas 50,000,000 miles over our heads. From this same cause we do not see Venus and Mercury make a transit across the disk of the sun at every revolution.

Fig. 41 shows a view of the orbits of the earth and Venus seen not from the edge but from a position somewhat above. The point E, where Venus crosses the plane of the earth's orbit, is called the ascending node. If the earth were at B when Venus is at E, Venus would be seen on the disk of the sun, making a transit. The same would be true if the earth were at D, and Venus at the descending node F.

This general view of the flying spheres is full of interest. [Page 108] While quivering themselves with thunderous noises, all is silent about them; earthquakes may be struggling on their surfaces, but there is no hint of contention in the quiet of space. They are too distant from one another to exchange signals, except, perhaps, the fleet of asteroids that sail the azure between Mars and Jupiter. Some of these come near together, continuing to fill each other's sky for days with brightness, then one gradually draws ahead. They have all phases for each other--crescent, half, full, and gibbous. These hundreds of bodies fill the realm where they are with inexhaustible variety. Beyond are vast spaces--cold, dark, void of matter, but full of power. Occasionally a little spark of light looms up rapidly into a world so huge that a thousand of our earths could not occupy its vast bulk. It swings its four or eight moons with perfect skill and infinite strength; but they go by and leave the silence unbroken, the darkness unlighted for years. Nevertheless, every part of space is full of power. Nowhere in its wide orbit can a world find a place; at no time in its eons of flight can it find an instant when the sun does not hold it in safety and life.

_The Outlook from the Earth._

If we come in from our wanderings in space and take an outlook from the earth, we shall observe certain movements, easily interpreted now that we know the system, but nearly inexplicable to men who naturally supposed that the earth was the largest, most stable, and central body in the universe.

We see, first of all, sun, moon, and stars rise in the east, mount the heavens, and set in the west. As I [Page 109] revolve in my pivoted study-chair, and see all sides of the room--library, maps, photographs, telescope, and windows--I have no suspicion that it is the room that whirls; but looking out of a car-window in a depot at another car, one cannot tell which is moving, whether it be his car or the other. In regard to the world, we have come to feel its whirl. We have noticed the pyramids of Egypt lifted to hide the sun; the mountains of Hymettus hurled down, so as to disclose the moon that was behind them to the watchers on the Acropolis; and the mighty mountains of Moab removed to reveal the stars of the east. Train the telescope on any star; it must be moved frequently, or the world will roll the instrument away from the object. Suspend a cannon-ball by a fine wire at the equator; set it vibrating north and south, and it swings all day in precisely the same direction. But suspend it directly over the north pole, and set it swinging toward Washington; in six hours after it is swinging toward Rome, in Italy; in twelve hours, toward Siam, in Asia; in nineteen hours, toward the Sandwich Islands; and in twenty-four, toward Washington again, not because it has changed the plane of its vibration, but because the earth has whirled beneath it, and the torsion of the wire has not been sufficient to compel the plane of the original direction to change with the turning of the earth. The law of inertia keeps it moving in the same direction. The same experimental proof of revolution is shown in a proportional degree at any point between the pole and the equator.

But the watchers on the Acropolis do not get turned over so as to see the moon at the same time every night. [Page 110] We turn down our eastern horizon, but we do not find fair Luna at the same moment we did the night before. We are obliged to roll on for some thirty to fifty minutes longer before we find the moon. It must be going in the same direction, and it takes us longer to get round to it than if if it were always in the same spot; so we notice a star near the moon one night--it is 13° west of the moon the next night. The moon is going around the earth from west to east, and if it goes 13° in one day, it will take a little more than twenty-seven days to go the entire circle of 360°.

[Page 111] In our outlook we soon observe that we do not by our revolution come to see the same stars rise at the same hour every night. Orion and the Pleiades, our familiar friends in the winter heavens, are gone from the summer sky. Have they fled, or are we turned from them? This is easily understood from Fig. 42.

When the observer on the earth at A looks into the midnight sky he sees the stars at E; but as the earth passes on to B, he sees those stars at E three minutes sooner every night; and at midnight the stars at F are over his head. Thus in a year, by going around the sun, we have every star of the celestial dome in our midnight sky. We see also how the sun appears among the successive constellations. When we are at A, we see the sun among the stars at G; but as we move toward B, the sun appears to move toward H. If we had observed the sun rise on the 20th of August, 1876, we should have seen it rise a little before Regulus, and a little south of it, in such a relation as circle 1 is to the star in Fig. 43. By sunset the earth had moved enough to make the sun appear to be at circle 2, and by the next morning at circle 3, at which time Regulus would rise before the sun. Thus the earth's motion seems to make the sun traverse a regular circle among the stars once a year: but it is not the sun that moves.

There are certain stars that have such irregular, uncertain, vagarious ways that they were called vagabonds, or planets, by the early astronomers. Here is the path of Jupiter in the year 1866 (Fig. 44). These bodies go forward for awhile, then stop, start aside, then retrograde, [Page 112] and go on again. Some are never seen far from the sun, and others in all parts of the ecliptic.

First see them as they stand to-day, as in Fig. 45. The observer stands on the earth at A. It has rolled over so far that he cannot see the sun; it has set. But Venus is still in sight; Jupiter is 45° behind Venus, and Saturn is seen 90° farther east. When A has rolled a little farther, if he is awake, he will see Mars before he sees the sun; or, in common language, Venus will set after, and Mars rise before the sun. All these bodies at near and far distances seem set in the starry dome, as the different stars seem in Fig. 42, p. 110.

The mysterious movements of advance and retreat are rendered intelligible by Fig. 46. The planet Mercury is at A, and, seen from the earth, B is located at _a_, [Page 113] on the background of the stars it seems to be among. It remains apparently stationary at _a_ for some time, because approaching the earth in nearly a straight line. Passing D to C, it appears to retrograde among the stars to _c_; remains apparently stationary for some time, then, in passing from C to E and A, appears to pass back among the stars to _a_. The progress of the earth, meanwhile, although it greatly retards the apparent motion from A to C, greatly hastens it from C to A.

It is also apparent that Mercury and Venus, seen from the earth, can never appear far from the sun. They must be just behind the sun as evening stars, or just before it as heralds of the morning. Venus is never more than 47° from the sun, and Mercury never more than 30°; indeed, it keeps so near the sun that very few people have ever seen the brilliant sparkler. Observe how much larger the planet appears near the earth in conjunction at D than in opposition at E. Observe also what phases it must present, and how transits sometimes take place.