Astronomy for Amateurs

When we contemplate this radiant Venus, it is difficult, even if we can not form any definite idea as to her actual state as regards habitation, to assume that she must be a dreary desert, and not, on the contrary, to hail in her a celestial land, differing more or less from our own dwelling-place, travailing with her sisters in the accomplishment of the general plan of Nature.

Such are the characteristic features of our celestial neighbor. In quitting her, we reach the Earth, which comes immediately next her in order of distance, 149 million kilometers (93,000,000 miles) from the Sun, but as we shall devote an entire chapter to our own planet, we will not halt at this point, but cross in one step the distance that separates Mars from Venus.

Let us only remark in passing, that our planet is the largest of the four spheres adjacent to the Sun. Here are their comparative diameters:

It will be seen that Venus is almost identical with the Earth.

MARS

Two hundred and twenty-six millions of kilometers (140,000,000 miles) from the Sun is the planet Mars, gravitating in an orbit exterior to that which the Earth takes annually round the same center.

Unfortunate Mars! What evil fairy presided at his birth? From antiquity, all curses seem to have fallen upon him. He is the god of war and of carnage, the protector of armies, the inspirer of hatred among the peoples, it is he who pours out the blood of Humanity in international hecatombs. Here, again, as in the case of Mercury and Venus, the appearance has originated the idea. Mars, in fact, burns like a drop of blood in the depths of the firmament, and it is this ruddy color that inspired its name and attributes, just as the dazzling whiteness of Venus made her the goddess of love and beauty. Why, indeed, should the origins of mythology be sought elsewhere than in astronomy?

While Humanity was attributing to the presumptive influence of Mars the defects inherent in its own terrestrial nature, this world, unwitting of our sorrows, pursued the celestial path marked out for it in space by destiny.

This planet is, as we have said, the first encountered after the Earth. Its orbit is very elongated, very eccentric. Mars accomplishes it in a period of 1 year, 321 days, 22 hours, i.e., 1 year, 10 months, 21 days, or 687 days. The velocity of its transit is 23 kilometers (14.5 miles) per second; that of the Earth is 30 (19 miles). Our planet, traveling through space at an average distance of 149 million kilometers (93,000,000 miles) from the central focus, is separated from Mars by an average distance of 76 million kilometers (47,000,000 miles); but as its orbit is equally elliptic and elongated it follows that at certain epochs the two planets approach one another by something less than 60 million kilometers (37,000,000 miles). These are the periods selected for making the best observations upon our neighbor of the ruddy rays. The oppositions of Mars arrive about every twenty-six months, but the periods of its greatest proximity, when this planet approaches to within 56 million kilometers (34,700,000 miles) of the Earth, occur only every fifteen years.

Mars is then passing perihelion, while our world is at aphelion (or greatest distance from the Sun). At such epochs this globe presents to us an apparent diameter 63 times smaller than that of the Moon, i.e., a telescope that magnifies 63 times would show him to us of the same magnitude as our satellite viewed with the unaided eye, and an instrument that magnified 630 times would show him ten times larger in diameter.

In dimensions he differs considerably from our world, being almost half the size of the Earth. In diameter he measures only 6,728 kilometers (4,172 miles), and his circumference is 21,125 kilometers (13,000 miles). His surface is only 29⁄100 of the terrestrial surface, and his volume only 15⁄100 of our own.

This difference in volume causes Mars to be an earth in miniature. When we study his aspects, his geography, his meteorology, we seem to see in space a reduction of our own abode, with certain dissimilarities that excite our curiosity, and make him even more interesting to us.

The Martian world weighs nine times and a half less than our own. If we represent the weight of the Earth by 1,000, that of Mars would be represented by 105. His density is much less than our own; it is only 7⁄10 that of the Earth. A man weighing 70 kilograms, transported to the adjacent globe, would weigh only 26 kilograms.

The earliest telescopic observations revealed the existence of more or less accentuated markings upon the surface of Mars. The progress of optics, admitting of greater magnifications, exhibited the form of these patches more clearly, while the study of their motions enabled the astronomers to determine with remarkable precision the diurnal rotation of this planet. It occurs in 24 hours, 37 minutes, 23.65 seconds. Day and night are accordingly a little longer on Mars than on the Earth, but the difference is obviously inconsiderable. The year of Mars consists of 668 Martian days. The inclination of the axis of rotation of this globe upon the plane of its orbit is much the same as our own. In consequence, its seasons are analogous to ours in intensity, while twice the length, the Martian year being almost equal to two of our years. The intensity of the seasons is indeed more accentuated than upon the Earth, since the orbit of Mars is very elongated. But there, as here, are three quite distinct zones: the torrid, the temperate, and the glacial.

By means of the telescope we can follow the variations of the Martian seasons, especially in what concerns the polar snows, which regularly aggregate during the winter, and melt no less regularly during the heat of the summer. These snows are very easily observed, and stand out clearly with dazzling whiteness. The reader can judge of them by the accompanying figure, which sums up the author's observations during one of the recent oppositions of Mars (1900–1901). The size of the polar cap diminished from 4,680 kilometers to 840. The solstice of the Martian summer was on April 11th. The snows were still melting on July 6th. Sometimes they disappear almost entirely during the Martian month that corresponds to our month of August, as never happens with our polar ice. Hence, though this planet is farther away from the Sun than ourselves, it does not appear to be colder, or, at any rate, it is certain that the polar snows are much less thick.

On the other hand, there are hardly ever clouds on Mars; the Martian atmosphere is almost always limpid, and one can say that fine weather is the chronic state of the planet. At times, light fogs or a little vapor will appear in certain regions, but they are soon dissipated, and the sky clears up again.

Since the invention of the telescope, a considerable number of drawings have been made, depicting Mars under every aspect, and the agreement between these numerous observations gives us a sufficient acquaintance with the planet to admit of our indicating the characteristic features of its geography, and of drawing out areographic maps (Ares, Mars). Its appearance can be judged of from the two drawings here reproduced, as made (February, 1901) at the Observatory of Juvisy, and from the general chart drawn from the total sum of observations (Figs. 41, 42 and 43).

It will be seen at the first glance that the geography of Mars is very different from that of our own globe: while three-quarters of the Earth are covered with the liquid element, Mars seems to be more evenly divided, and must indeed have rather more land than water. We find no immense oceans surrounding the continents, and separating them like islands; on the contrary, the seas are reduced to long gulfs compressed between the shores, like the Mediterranean for example, nor is it even certain that these gray spots do all represent true seas. It has been agreed to term sea the parts that are lightly tinged with green, and to give the name of continent to the spots colored yellow. That is the hue of the Martian soil, due either to the soil itself, which would resemble that of the Sahara, or, to take a less arid region, that seen on the line between Marseilles and Nice, in the vicinity of the Esterels; or perhaps to some peculiar vegetation. During ascents in a balloon, the author has often remarked that the hue of the ripe corn, with the Sun shining on it, is precisely that presented to us by the continents of Mars in the best hours for observation.

As to the "seas," it is pretty certain that there must be water, or some kind of liquid, deriving above all from the melting of the polar snows in spring and summer; but it may possibly be in conjunction with some vegetation, aquatic plants, or perhaps vast meadows, which appear to us from here to be the more considerable in proportion as the water that nourishes them has been more abundant.

Mars, like our globe, is surrounded with a protective atmosphere, which retains the rays of the Sun, and must preserve a medium temperature favorable to the conservation of life upon the surface of the planet. But the circulation of the water, so important to terrestrial life, whether animal or vegetable, which is effected upon our planet by the evaporation of the seas, clouds, winds, rains, wells, rivers and streams, comes about quite differently on Mars; for, as was remarked above, it is rarely that any clouds are observed there. Instead of being vertical, as here, this circulation is horizontal: the water coming from the source of the polar snows finds its way into the canals and seas, and returns to be condensed at the poles by a light drift of invisible vapors directed from the equator to the poles. There is never any rain.

We have spoken of canals. One of the great puzzles of the Martian world is incontestably the appearance of straight lines that furrow its surface in all directions, and seem to connect the seas. M. Schiaparelli, the distinguished Director of the Observatory of Milan, who discovered them in 1877, called them canals, without, however, postulating anything as to their real nature. Are they indeed canals? These straight lines, measuring sometimes 600 kilometers (372 miles) in length, and more than 100 kilometers (62 miles) in breadth, have much the same hue as the seas on which they open. For a quarter of a century they have been surveyed by the greater number of our observers. But it must be confessed that, even with the best instruments, we only approach Mars at a distance of 60,000 kilometers (37,200 miles), which is still a little far off, and we may be sure that we do not distinguish the true details of the surface.[11] These details at the limits of visibility produce the appearance of canals to our eyes. They may possibly be lines of lakes, or oases. The future will no doubt clear up this mystery for us.

As to the inhabitants of Mars, this world is in a situation as favorable as our Earth for habitation, and it would be difficult to discover any reason for perpetual sterility there. It appears to us, on the contrary, by its rapid and frequent variations of aspect, to be a very living world. Its atmosphere, which is always clear, has not the density of our own, and resembles that of the highest mountains. The conditions of existence there vary from ours, and appear to be more delicate, more ethereal.

There as here, day succeeds to night, spring softens the rigors of winter; the seasons unfold, less disparate than our own, of which we have such frequent reason to complain. The sky is perpetually clear. There are never tempests, hurricanes, nor cyclones, the wind never gets up any force there, on account of the rarity of the atmosphere, and the low intensity of weight.

Differing from ours, this world may well be a more congenial habitation. It is more ancient than the Earth, smaller, less massive. It has run more quickly through the phases of its evolution. Its astral life is more advanced, and its Humanity should be superior to our own, just as our successors a million years hence, for example, will be less coarse and barbarous than we are at present: the law of progress governs all the worlds, and, moreover, the physical constitution of the planet Mars is less dense than our own.

There is no need to despair of entering some day into communication with these unknown beings. The luminous points that have been observed are no signals, but high summits or light clouds illuminated by the rising or setting sun. But the idea of communication with them in the future is no more audacious and no less scientific than the invention of spectral analysis, X-rays, or wireless telegraphy.

We may suppose that the study of astronomy is further advanced in Mars than on the Earth, because humanity itself has advanced further, and because the starry sky is far finer there, far easier to study, owing to the limpidity of its pure, clear atmosphere.

Two small moons (hardly larger than the city of Paris) revolve rapidly round Mars; they are called Phobos and Deimos. The former, at a distance of 6,000 kilometers (3,730 miles) from the surface, accomplishes its revolution rapidly, in seven hours, thirty-nine minutes, and thus makes the entire circle of the Heavens three times a day. The second gravitates at 20,000 kilometers (12,400 miles), and turns round its center of attraction in thirty hours and eighteen minutes. These two satellites were discovered by Mr. Hall, at the University of Washington, in the month of August, 1877.

Among the finest and most interesting of the celestial phenomena admired by the Martians, at certain epochs of the year,—now at night when the Sun has plunged into his fiery bed, now in the morning, a little before the aurora,—is a magnificent star of first magnitude, never far removed from the orb of day, which presents to them the same aspects as does Venus to ourselves. This splendid orb, which has doubtless received the most flattering names from those who contemplate it, this radiant star of a beautiful greenish blue, courses in space accompanied by a little satellite, sparkling like some splendid diamond, after sunset, in the clear sky of Mars. This superb orb is the Earth, and the little star accompanying it is the Moon.

Yes, to the Martians our Earth is a star of the morning and evening; doubtless they have determined her phases. Many a vow, and many a hope must have been wafted toward her, more than one broken heart must have permitted its unrealized dreams to wander forth to our planet as to an abode of happiness where all who have suffered in their native world might find a haven. But our planet, alas! is not as perfect as they imagine.

We must not dally upon Mars, but hasten our celestial excursion toward Jupiter.

CHAPTER VI

These lilliputian worlds at first received the names of the more celebrated of the minor mythological divinities—Ceres, Pallas, Juno, Vesta, etc., but as they rapidly increased in number, it was found necessary to call them by modern, terrestrial names, and more than one daughter of Eve, the Egeria of some astronomer, now has her name inscribed in the Heavens. The first minor planet was discovered on the first day of the nineteenth century, January 1, 1801, by Piazzi, astronomer at Palermo. While he was observing the small stars in the constellation of the Bull beneath the clear Sicilian skies, this famous astronomer noticed one that he had never seen before.

The next night, directing his telescope to the same part of the Heavens, he perceived that the fair unknown had moved her station, and the observations of the following days left him no doubt as to the nature of the visitor: she was a planet, a wandering star among the constellations, revolving round the Sun. This newcomer was registered under the name of Ceres.

Since that epoch several hundreds of them have been discovered, occupying a zone that extends over a space of more than 400 million kilometers (249,000,000 miles). These celestial globules are invisible to the naked eye, but no year passes without new and numerous recruits being added to the already important catalogue of these minute asters by the patient observers of the Heavens. To-day, they are most frequently discovered by the photographic method of following the displacement of the tiny moving points upon an exposed sensitive plate.

JUPITER

And now let us bow respectfully before Jupiter, the giant of the worlds. This glorious planet is indeed King of the Solar System.

While Mercury measures only 4,750 kilometers (2,946 miles) in diameter, and Mars 6,728 kilometers (4,172), Jupiter is no less than 140,920 kilometers (87,400 miles) in breadth; that is to say, eleven times larger than the Earth. He is 442,500 kilometers (274,357 miles) in circumference.

In volume he is equivalent to 1,279 terrestrial globes; hence he is only a million times smaller than the Sun. The previously described planets of our system, Mercury, Venus, the Earth, and Mars combined, would form only an insignificant mass in comparison with this colossus. A hundred and twenty-six Earths joined into one group would present a surface whose extent would still not be quite as vast as the superficies of this titanic world. This immense globe weighs 310 times more than that which we inhabit. Its density is only the quarter of our own; but weight is twice and a half times as great there as here. The constituents of things and beings are thus composed of materials lighter than those upon the Earth; but, as the planet exerts a force of attraction twice and a half times as powerful, they are in reality heavier and weigh more. A graceful maiden weighing fifty kilograms would if transported to Jupiter immediately be included in the imposing society of the "Hundred Kilos."

Jupiter rotates upon himself with prodigious rapidity. He accomplishes his diurnal revolution in less than ten hours! There the day lasts half as long as here, and while we reckoned fifteen days upon our calendar, the Jovian would count thirty-six. As Jupiter's year equals nearly twelve of ours, the almanac of that planet would contain 10,455 days! Obviously, our pretty little pocket calendars would never serve to enumerate all the dates in this vast world.

This splendid globe courses in space at a distance of 775,000,000 kilometers (480,500,000 miles) from the Sun. Hence it is five times (5.2) as remote from the orb of day as our Earth, and its orbit is five times vaster than our own. At that distance the Sun subtends a diameter five times smaller than that which we see, and its surface is twenty-seven times less extensive; accordingly this planetary abode receives on an average twenty-seven times less light and heat than we obtain.

In the telescope Jupiter presents an aspect analogous to that likely to be exhibited by a world covered with clouds, and enveloped in dense vapors (Fig. 45).

It is, in fact, the seat of formidable perturbations, of strange revolutions by which it is perpetually convulsed, for although of more ancient formation than the Earth, this celestial giant has not yet arrived at the stable condition of our dwelling-place. Owing to its considerable volume, this globe has probably preserved its original heat, revolving in space as an obscure Sun, but perhaps still burning. In it we see what our own planet must have been in its primordial epoch, in the pristine times of terrestrial genesis.

Since its orbital revolution occupies nearly twelve years, Jupiter comes back into opposition with the Sun every 399 days, i.e., 1 year, 34 days, that is with one month and four days' delay each year. At these periods it is located at the extremity of a straight line which, passing by the Earth, is prolonged to the Sun. These are the epochs to be selected for observation. It shines then, all night, like some dazzling star of the first magnitude, of excessive whiteness: nor can it be confounded either with Venus, more luminous still (for she is never visible at midnight, in the full South, but is South-west in the evening, or South-east in the morning), nor with Mars, whose fires are ruddy.

In the telescope, the immense planet presents a superb disk that an enlargement of forty times shows us to be the same size to all appearance as that of the Moon seen with the unaided eye. Its shape is not absolutely spherical, but spheroid—that is, flattened at the poles. The flattening is 1⁄17.

We know that the Earth's axis dips a certain quantity on the plane of her orbit, and that it is this inclination that produces the seasons. Now it is not the same for Jupiter. His axis of rotation remains almost vertical throughout the course of his year, and results in the complete absence of climates and seasons. There is neither glacial zone, nor tropic zone; the position of Jupiter is eternally that of the Earth at the season of the equinox, and the vast world enjoys, as it were, perpetual spring. It knows neither the hoar-frost nor the snows of winter. The heat received from the Sun diminishes gradually from the equator to the poles without abrupt transitions, and the duration of day and night is equal there throughout the entire year, under every latitude. A privileged world, indeed!

It is surrounded by a very dense, thick atmosphere, which undergoes more extensive variations than could be produced by the Sun at such a distance. Spectral analysis detects a large amount of water-vapor, showing that this planet still possesses a very considerable quantity of intrinsic heat.

Most conspicuous upon this globe are the larger or smaller bands or markings (gray and white, sometimes tinted yellow, or of a maroon or chocolate hue) by which its surface is streaked, particularly in the vicinity of the equator. These different belts vary, and are constantly modified, either in form or color. Sometimes, they are irregular, and cut up; at others they are interspersed with more or less brilliant patches. These patches are not affixed to the surface of the globe, like the seas and continents of the Earth; nor do they circulate round the planet like the satellites, in more or less elongated and regular revolutions, but are relatively mobile, like our clouds in the atmosphere, while observation of their motion does not give the exact period of the rotation of Jupiter. Some only appear upon the agitated disk to vanish very quickly; others subsist for a considerable period.

One has been observed for over a quarter of a century, and appears to be almost immobile upon this colossal globe. This spot, which was red at its first appearance, is now pale and ghostly. It is oval (vide Fig. 45) and measures 42,000 kilometers (26,040 miles) in length by 15,000 kilometers (9,300 miles) in width. Hence it is about four times as long as the diameter of our Earth; that is, relatively to the size of Jupiter, as are the dimensions of Australia in proportion to our globe. The discussion of a larger number of observations leads us to see in it a sort of continent in the making, a scoria recently ejected from the mobile and still liquid and heated surface of the giant Jupiter. The patch, however, oscillates perceptibly, and appears to be a floating island.

We must add that this vast world, like the Sun, does not rotate all in one period. Eight different currents can be perceived upon its surface. The most rapid is that of the equatorial zone, which accomplishes its revolution in 9 hours, 50 minutes, 29 seconds. A point situated on the equator is therefore carried forward at a speed of 12,500 meters (7 miles) per second, and it is this giddy velocity of Jupiter that has produced the flattening of the poles. From the equator to the poles, the swiftness of the currents diminishes irregularly, and the difference amounts to about five minutes between the movement of the equatorial stream, and that of the northern and southern currents. But what is more curious still is that the velocity of one and the same stream is subject to certain fluctuations; thus, in the last quarter of a century, the speed of the equatorial current has progressively diminished. In 1879, the velocity was 9 hours, 49 minutes, 59 seconds, and now it is, as we have already seen, 9 hours, 50 minutes, 29 seconds, which represents a substantial reduction. The rotation of the red patch, at 25 degrees of the southern latitude, is effected in 9 hours, 55 minutes, 40 seconds.

We are confronted with a strange and mysterious world. It is the world of the future.

This giant gravitates in space accompanied by a suite of five satellites. These are:

The four principal satellites of Jupiter were discovered at the same time, on the same evenings (January 7 and 8, 1610), by the two astronomers who were pointing their telescopes at Jupiter: Galileo in Italy, and Simon Marius in Germany.

On September 9, 1892, Mr. Barnard, astronomer of the Lick Observatory, California, discovered a new satellite, extremely minute, and very near the enormous planet. It has so far received no name, and is known as the fifth, although the four principal are numbered in the order of their distances.

The four classical satellites are visible in the smallest instruments (Fig. 46): the third is the most voluminous.

Such is the splendid system of the mighty Jupiter. Once, doubtless, this fine planet illuminated the troop of worlds that derived their treasure of vitality from him with his intrinsic light: to-day, however, these moons in their turn shed upon the extinct central globe the pale soft light which they receive from our solar focus, illuminating the brief Jovian nights (which last less than five hours, on account of the twilight) with their variable brilliancy.

At the distance of the first satellite, Jupiter exhibits a disk fourteen hundred times vaster than that of the Full Moon! What a dazzling spectacle, what a fairy scene must the enormous star afford to the inhabitants of that tiny world! And what a shabby figure must our Earth and Moon present in the face of such a body, a real miniature of the great solar system!

Our ancestors were well inspired when they attributed the sovereignty of Olympus to this majestic planet. His brilliancy corresponds with his real grandeur. His dominion in the midnight Heavens is unique. Here again, as for Venus, Mars, and Mercury, astronomy has created the legend of the fables of mythology.

Let us repeat in conclusion that our Earth becomes practically invisible for the inhabitants of the other worlds beyond the distance of Jupiter.

SATURN

Turn back now for a moment to the plan of the Solar System.

We had to cross 775 million kilometers (480,000,000 miles) when we left the Sun, in order to reach the immense orb of Jupiter, which courses in space at 626 million kilometers (388,000,000 miles) from the terrestrial orbit. From Jupiter we had to traverse a distance of 646 million kilometers (400,000,000 miles) in order to reach the marvelous system of Saturn, where our eyes and thoughts must next alight.

Son of Uranus and Vesta, Saturn was the God of Time and Fate. He is generally represented as an aged man bearing a scythe. His mythological character is only the expression of his celestial aspect, as we have seen for the brilliant Jupiter, for the pale Venus, the ruddy Mars, and the agile Mercury. The revolution of Saturn is the slowest of any among the planets known to the ancients. It takes almost thirty years for its accomplishment, and at that distance the Saturnian world, though it still shines with the brilliancy of a star of the first magnitude, exhibits to our eyes a pale and leaden hue. Here is, indeed, the god of Time, with slow and almost funereal gait.

Poor Saturn won no favor with the poets and astrologers. He bore the horrid reputation of being the inexhaustible source of misfortune and evil fates,—whereof he is wholly innocent, troubling himself not at all with our world nor its inhabitants.

This world travels in the vastness of the Heavens at a distance of 1,421 million kilometers (881,000,000 miles) from the Sun. Hence it is ten times farther from the orb of day than the Earth, though still illuminated and governed by the Sun-God. Its gigantic orbit is ten times larger than our own.

Its revolution round the Sun is accomplished in 10,759 days, i.e., 29 years, 167 days, and as this strange planet rotates upon itself with great rapidity in 10 hours, 15 minutes, its year comprises no less than 25,217 days. What a calendar! The Saturnians must needs have a prodigious memory not to get hopelessly involved in this interminable number of days. A curious world, where each year stands for almost thirty of our own, and where the day is more than half as short again as ours. But we shall presently find other and more extraordinary differences on this planet.

In the first place it is nearly nine and a half times larger than our world. It is a globe, not spherical, but spheroidal, and the flattening of its poles, which is one-tenth, exceeds that of all the other planets, even Jupiter. It follows that its equatorial diameter is 112,500 kilometers (69,750 miles), while its polar diameter measures only 110,000 kilometers (68,200 miles).

In volume, Saturn is 719 times larger than the Earth, but its density is only 128⁄1,000 of our own; i.e., the materials of which it is composed are much less heavy, so that it weighs only 92 times more than our Earth. Its surface is 85 times vaster than that of the Earth, no insignificant proportion.

The dipping of Saturn's axis of rotation is much the same as our own. Hence we conclude that the seasons of this planet are analogous to ours in relative intensity. Only upon this far-off world each season lasts for seven years. At the distance at which it gravitates in space, the heat and light which it receives from the Sun are 90 times less active than such as reach our selves; but it apparently possesses an atmosphere of great density, which may be constituted so that the heat is preserved, and the planet maintained in a calorific condition but little inferior to our own.

In the telescope, the disk of Saturn exhibits large belts that recall those of Jupiter, though they are broader and less accentuated (Fig. 47). There are doubtless zones of clouds or rapid currents circulating in the atmosphere. Spots are also visible whose displacement assists in calculating the diurnal motions of this globe.

The most extraordinary characteristic of this strange world is, however, the existence of a vast ring, which is almost flat and very large, and entirely envelops the body of the planet. It is suspended in the Saturnian sky, like a gigantic triumphal arch, at a height of some 20,000 kilometers (12,400 miles) above the equator. This splendid arch is circular, like an immense crown illuminated by the Sun. From here we only see it obliquely, and it appears to us elliptical; a part of the ring seems to pass in front of Saturn, and its shadow is visible on the planet, while the opposite part passes behind.

This ring, which measures 284,000 kilometers (176,080 miles) in diameter, and less than 100 kilometers (62 miles) in breadth, is divided into three distinct zones: the exterior is less luminous than the center, which is always brighter than the planet itself; the interior is very dark, and spreads out like a dusky and faintly transparent veil, through which Saturn can be distinguished.

What is the nature of these vast concentric circles that surround the planet with a luminous halo? They are composed of an innumerable number of particles, of a quantity of cosmic fragments, which are swept off in a rapid revolution, and gravitate round the planet at variable speed and distance. The nearer particles must accomplish their revolution in 5 hours, 50 minutes, and the most distant in about 12 hours, 5 minutes, to prevent them from being merged in the surface of Saturn: their own centrifugal force sustains them in space.

With a good glass the effect of these rings is most striking, and one can not refrain from emotion on contemplating this marvel, whereby one of the brothers of our terrestrial country is crowned with a golden diadem. Its aspects vary with its perspective relative to the Earth, as may be seen from the subjoined figure (Fig. 48).

We must not quit the Saturnian province without mentioning the eight satellites that form his splendid suite:

Here is a marvelous system, with, what is more, eight different kinds of months for the inhabitants of Saturn; eight moons with constantly varying phases juggling above the rings!

Now we shall cross at a bound the 1,400 million kilometers (868,000,000 miles) that separate us from the last station but one of the immense solar system.

URANUS

On March 13, 1781, William Herschel, a Hanoverian astronomer who had emigrated to England, having abandoned the study of music to devote himself to the sublime science of the Heavens, was observing the vast fields with their constellations of golden stars, when he perceived a luminous point that appeared to him to exceed that of the other celestial luminaries in diameter. He replaced the magnification of his telescope by more powerful eye-pieces, and found that the apparent diameter of the orb increased proportionately with the amplification of the power, which does not happen in the case of stars at infinite distance. His observations on the following evenings enabled him to note the slow and imperceptible movement of this star upon the celestial sphere, and left him in no further doubt: there was no star, but some much nearer orb, in all probability a comet, for the great astronomer dared not predict the discovery of a new planet. And it was thus, under the name of cometary orb, that the seventh child of the Sun was announced. The astronomers sought to determine the motions of the new arrival, to discover for it an elliptical orbit such as most comets have. But their efforts were vain, and after several months' study the conclusion was reached that here was a new planet, throwing back the limits of the solar system to a point far beyond that of the Saturnian frontier, as admitted from antiquity.

This new world received the name of Uranus, father of Saturn, his nearest neighbor in the solar empire. Uranus shines in the firmament as a small star of sixth magnitude, invisible to the unaided eye for normal sight, at a distance of 2,831,000,000 kilometers (1,755,000,000 miles) from the Sun. Smaller than Jupiter and Saturn, this planet is yet larger than Mercury, Venus, Mars, and the Earth together, thus presenting proportions that claim our respect and admiration.

His diameter may be taken at about 55,000 kilometers (34,200 miles), that is, rather more than four times the breadth of the terrestrial diameter. Sixty-nine times more voluminous than the Earth, and seventeen times more extensive in surface, this new world is much less than our own in density. The matter of which it is composed is nearly five times lighter than that of our globe.

Spectral analysis shows that this distant planet is surrounded with an atmosphere very different from that which we breathe, enclosing gases that do not exist in ours.

The Uranian globe courses over the fields of infinity in a vast orbit seventeen times larger than our own, and its revolution lasts 36,688 days, i.e., 84 years, 8 days. It travels slowly and sadly under the pale and languishing rays of the Sun, which sends it nearly three hundred times less of light and heat than we receive. At this distance the solar disk would present a diameter seventeen times smaller than that which we admire, and a surface three hundred times less vast. A dull world indeed! And what an interminable year! The idle people who are in the habit of being bored must find time even longer upon Uranus than upon our little Earth, where the days pass so rapidly. And if matters are arranged there as here, a babe of a year old, beginning to babble in its nurse's arms, would already have lived as long as an old man of eighty-four in this world.

But what most seriously complicates the Calendar of the Uranians is the fact that the four moons which accompany the planet accomplish their revolution in four different kinds of months, in two, four, eight, and thirteen days, as is shown in the following table: