Myths and Marvels of Astronomy
scarcely visible (when at a distance), in the latter it is seen as a
well-defined streak; and as a very slight change of position of each
bird may often suffice to render an extensive flight thus visible
throughout its entire length, which but a few moments before had been
invisible, so the entire length of a comet's tail may be brought into
view, and apparently be formed in a few hours, through some
comparatively slight displacement of the individual meteorites composing
it.
This paradox--for paradox it unquestionably is--affords a curious
illustration of the influence which mathematical power has on the minds
of men. Every one knows that Professor Tait has potential mathematical
energy competent to dispose, in a very short time, of all the
difficulties involved in his theory; therefore few seem to inquire
whether this potential energy has ever been called into action. It is
singular, too, that other mathematicians of great eminence have been
content to take the theory on trust. Thus Sir W. Thomson, at the meeting
of the British Association at Edinburgh, described the theory as
disposing easily of the difficulties presented by Newton's comet in
1680. Glashier, in his translation of Guillemin's 'Les Cometes,' speaks
of the theory as one not improbably correct, though only to be
established by rigid investigation of the mathematical problems
involved.
In reality, not five minutes' inquiry is needed to show any one
acquainted with the history of long-tailed comets that Tait's theory is
quite untenable. Take Newton's comet. It had a tail ninety millions of
miles long, extending directly from the sun as the comet approached him,
and seen, four days later, extending to the same distance, and still
directly from the sun, as the comet receded from him in an entirely
different direction. According to Tait's sea-bird theory, the earth was
at both these epochs in the plane of a sheet of meteorites forming the
tail; but on each occasion the sun also was in the same plane, for the
edge of the sheet of meteorites was seen to be directly in a line with
the sun. The comet's head, of course, was in the same plane; but three
points, not in a straight line, determine a plane. Hence we have, as the
definite result of the sea-bird theory, that the layer or stratum of
meteorites, forming the tail of Newton's comet, lay in the same plane
which contained the sun, the earth, and the comet. But the comet crossed
the ecliptic (the plane in which the earth travels round the sun)
between the epochs named, crossing it at a great angle. When crossing
it, then, the great layer of meteorites was in the plane of the
ecliptic; before crossing it the layer was greatly inclined to that
plane one way, and after crossing it the layer was greatly inclined to
that plane another way. So that we have in no way escaped the difficulty
which the sea-bird theory was intended to remove. If it was a startling
and, indeed, incredible thing that the particles along a comet's tail
should have got round in four days from the first to the second position
of the tail considered above, it is as startling and incredible that a
mighty layer of meteorites should have shifted bodily in the way
required by the sea-bird theory. Nay, there is an element in our result
which is still more startling than any of the difficulties yet
mentioned; and that is, the singular care which the great layer of
meteorites would seem to have shown to keep its plane always passing
through the earth, with which it was in no way connected. Why should
this preference have been shown by the meteor flock for our earth above
all the other members of the solar system?--seeing that the sea-bird
theory _requires_ that this comet, and not Newton's comet alone but all
others having tails, should not only be thus complaisant with respect to
our little earth, but should behave in a totally different way with
respect to every other member of the sun's family.
We can understand that, while several have been found who have applauded
the sea-bird paradox for what it _might_ do in explaining comets' tails,
its advocates have as yet not done much to reconcile it with cometic
observation.
The latest astronomical paradox published is perhaps still more
startling. It relates to the planet Venus, and is intended to explain
the appearance presented by this planet when crossing the sun's face,
or, technically, when in transit. At this time she is surrounded by a
ring of light, which appears somewhat brighter than the disc of the sun
itself. Before fully entering on the sun's face, also, the part of
Venus's globe as yet outside the sun's disc is seen to be girt round by
a ring of exceedingly bright light--so bright, indeed, that it has left
its record in photographs where the exposure was only for the small
fraction of a second allowable in the case of so intensely brilliant a
body as the sun. Astronomers have not found it difficult to explain
either peculiarity. It has been proved clearly in other ways that Venus
has an atmosphere like our own, but probably denser. As the sun is
raised into view above the horizon (after he has really passed below
the horizon plane) by the bending power of our air upon his rays, so the
bending power of Venus's air brings the sun into our view round the dark
body of the planet. But the new paradox advances a much bolder theory.
Instead of an atmosphere such as ours, Venus has a glass envelope; and
instead of a surface of earth and water, in some cases covered with
clouds, Venus has a surface shining with metallic lustre.[53]
The author of this theory, Mr. Jos. Brett, startled astronomers by
announcing, a few years ago, that with an ordinary telescope he could
see the light of the sun's corona without the aid of an eclipse, though
astronomers had observed that the delicate light of the corona fades out
of view with the first returning rays of the sun after total eclipse.
The latest paradoxist, misled by the incorrect term 'centrifugal force,'
proposes to 'modify, if not banish,' the old-fashioned astronomy. What
is called centrifugal force is in truth only inertia. In the familiar
instance of a body whirled round by a string, the breaking of the string
no more implies that an active force has pulled away the body, than the
breaking of a rope by which a weight is pulled implies that the weight
has exerted an active resistance. Of course, here again the text-books
are chiefly in fault.
Such are a few among the paradoxes of various orders by which
astronomers, like the students of other sciences, have been from time to
time amused. It is not altogether, as it may seem at first sight, 'a sin
against the twenty-four hours' to consider such matters; for much may be
learned not only from the study of the right road in science, but from
observing where and how men may go astray. I know, indeed, few more
useful exercises for the learner than to examine a few paradoxes, when
leisure serves, and to consider how, if left to his own guidance, he
would confute them.
XI.
_ON SOME ASTRONOMICAL MYTHS._
The expression 'astronomical myth' has recently been used, on the
title-page of a translation from the French, as synonymous with false
systems of astronomy. It is not, however, in that sense that I here use
it. The history of astronomy presents the records of some rather
perplexing observations, not confirmed by later researches, but yet not
easily to be explained away or accounted for. Such observations Humboldt
described as belonging to the myths of an uncritical period; and it is
in that sense that I employ the term 'astronomical myth' in this essay.
I propose briefly to describe and comment on some of the more
interesting of these observations, which, in whatever sense they are to
be interpreted, will be found to afford a useful lesson.
It is hardly necessary, perhaps, to point out that the cases which I
include here I regard as really cases in which astronomers have been
deceived by illusory observations. Other students of astronomy may
differ from me as respects some of these instances. I do not wish to
dogmatise, but simply to describe the facts as I see them, and the
impressions which I draw from them. Those who view the facts differently
will not, I think, have to complain that I have incorrectly described
them.
At the outset, let me point out that some observations which were for a
long time regarded as mythical have proved to be exact. For instance,
when as yet very few telescopes existed, and those very feeble,
Galileo's discovery of moons travelling round Jupiter was rejected as an
illusion for which Satan received the chief share of credit. There is an
amusing and yet in one aspect almost pathetic reference to this in his
account of his earlier observations of Saturn. He had seen the planet
apparently attended on either side by two smaller planets, as if helping
old Saturn along. But on December 4, 1612,[54] turning his telescope on
the planet, he found to his infinite amazement not a trace of the
companion planets could be seen; there in the field of view of his
telescope was the golden-tinted disc of the planet as smoothly rounded
as the disc of Mars or Jupiter. 'What,' he wrote, 'is to be said
concerning so strange a metamorphosis? Are the two lesser stars consumed
after the manner of the solar spots? Have they vanished or suddenly
fled? Has Saturn, perhaps, devoured his children? Or were the
appearances, indeed, illusion or fraud with which the glasses have so
long deceived me as well as many others to whom I have shown them? Now,
perhaps, is the time come to revive the well-nigh withered hopes of
those who, guided by more profound contemplations, have discovered the
fallacy of the new observations, and demonstrated the utter
impossibility of the existence of those things which the telescope
appears to show. I do not know what to say in a case so surprising, so
unlooked for, and so novel. The shortness of the time, the unexpected
nature of the event, the weakness of my understanding, and the fear of
being mistaken, have greatly confounded me.' We now know that these
observations, as well as those made soon after by Hevelius, though
wrongly interpreted, were correct enough. Nay, we know that if either
Galileo or Hevelius had been at the pains to reason out the meaning of
the alternate visibility and disappearance of objects looking like
attendant planets, they must have anticipated the discovery made in 1656
by Huyghens, that Saturn's globe is girdled about by a thin flat ring so
vast that, if a score of globes like our earth were set side by side,
the range of that row of worlds would be less than the span of the
Saturnian ring system.
There is a reference in Galileo's letter to the solar spots; 'Are the
two lesser stars,' he says, 'consumed after the manner of the solar
spots?' When he thus wrote the spots were among the myths or fables of
astronomy, and an explanation was offered, by those who did not reject
them utterly, which has taken its place among forsaken doctrines, those
broken toys of astronomers. It is said that when Scheiner, himself a
Jesuit, communicated to the Provincial of the Jesuits his discovery of
the spots on the sun, the latter, a staunch Aristotelian, cautioned him
not to see these things. 'I have read Aristotle's writings from
beginning to end many times,' he said, 'and I can assure you I have
nowhere found in them anything similar to what you mention' [amazing
circumstances!] 'Go, therefore, my son, tranquillise yourself; be
assured that what you take for spots on the sun are the faults of your
glasses or your eyes.' As the idea was obviously inadmissible that a
celestial body could be marked by spots, the theory was started that the
dark objects apparently seen on the sun's body were in reality small