 | Phœnixiana; or, Sketches and burlesques |  |
LECTURES ON ASTRONOMY.
INTRODUCTORY.
The following pages were originally prepared in the form
of a course of Lectures to be delivered before the Lowell
Institute, of Boston, Mass., but, owing to the unexpected
circumstance of the author's receiving no invitation to lecture
before that institution, they were laid aside shortly after
their completion.
Receiving an invitation from the trustees of the Vallecetos
Literary and Scientific Institute, during the present
summer, to deliver a course of Lectures on any popular subject,
the author withdrew his manuscript from the dusty
shelf on which it had long lain neglected, and, having some-what
revised and enlarged it, to suit the capacity of the
eminent scholars before whom it was to be displayed, repaired
to Vallecetos. But, on arriving at that place, he
few days previous, having availed himself of the opportunity
presented by a passing emigrant's horse,—and that, in consequence,
the opening of the Institute was indefinitely postponed.
Under these circumstances, and yielding with reluctance
to the earnest solicitations of many eminent scientific
friends, he has been induced to place the Lectures before the
public in their present form. Should they meet with that
success which his sanguine friends prognosticate, the author
may be induced subsequently to publish them in the form of
a text-book, for the use of the higher schools and universities;
it being his greatest ambition to render himself useful
in his day and generation, by widely disseminating the information
he has acquired among those who, less fortunate,
are yet willing to receive instruction.
1. LECTURES ON ASTRONOMY.—PART I.
CHAPTER I.
The term Astronomy is derived from two Latin words,—
Astra, a star, and onomy, a science; and literally means the
science of the stars. “It is a science,” to quote our friend
Dick (who was no relation at all of Big Dick, though the
latter occasionally caused individuals to see stars), “which
has, in all ages, engaged the attention of the poet, the philosopher,
and admiration.”
By the wondrous discoveries of the improved telescopes of
modern times, we ascertain that upwards of several hundred
millions of stars exist, that are invisible to the naked eye—
the nearest of which is millions of millions of miles from the
Earth; and as we have every reason to suppose that every
one of this inconceivable number of worlds is peopled like
our own, a consideration of this fact—and that we are undoubtedly
as superior to these beings, as we are to the rest
of mankind—is calculated to fill the mind of the American
with a due sense of his own importance in the scale of animated
creation.
It is supposed that each of the stars we see in the Heavens
in a cloudless night, is a sun shining upon its own curvilinear,
with light of its own manufacture; and as it would be
absurd to suppose its light and heat were made to be diffused
for nothing, it is presumed farther, that each sun, like an old
hen, is provided with a parcel of little chickens, in the way
of planets, which, shining but feebly by its reflected light,
are to us invisible. To this opinion we are led, also, by
reasoning from analogy, on considering our own Solar
System.
The Solar System is so called, not because we believe it
to be the sole system of the kind in existence, but from its
principal body the Sun; the Latin name of which is Sol.
(Thus we read of Sol Smith, literally meaning the son of Old
Smith.) On a close examination of the Heavens we perceive
(differing from those which surround them, which are always
twinkling like a dew-drop on a cucumber-vine), and which,
moreover, do not preserve constantly the same relative distance
from the stars near which they are first discovered.
These are the planets of the Solar System, which have no
light of their own—of which the Earth, on which we reside,
is one,—which shine by light reflected from the Sun,—and
which regularly move around that body at different intervals
of time and through different ranges in space. Up to the
time of a gentleman named Copernicus, who flourished about
the middle of the Fifteenth Century, it was supposed by our
stupid ancestors that the Earth was the centre of all creation,
being a large flat body, resting on a rock which rested on
another rock, and so on “all the way down;” and that the
Sun, planets and immovable stars all revolved about it once
in twenty-four hours.
This reminds us of the simplicity of a child we once saw
in a railroad-car, who fancied itself perfectly stationary, and
thought the fences, houses and fields were tearing past it at
the rate of thirty miles an hour;—and poking out its head,
to see where on earth they went to, had its hat —a very nice
one with pink ribbons—knocked off and irrecoverably lost.
But Copernicus (who was a son of Daniel Pernicus, of the
firm of Pernicus & Co., wool-dealers, and who was named Co.
Pernicus, out of respect to his father's partners) soon set this
matter to rights, and started the idea of the present Solar
System, which, greatly improved since his day, is occasionally
the Sun is stationed at one focus (not hocus, as it is rendered,
without authority by the philosopher Partington) of an ellipse,
where it slowly grinds on for ever about its own axis, while
the planets, turning about their axes, revolve in elliptical
orbits of various dimensions and different planes of inclination
around it.
The demonstration of this system in all its perfection
was left to Isaac Newton, an English Philosopher, who, seeing
an apple tumble down from a tree, was led to think thereon
with such gravity, that he finally discovered the attraction
of gravitation, which proved to be the great law of Nature
that keeps every thing in its place. Thus we see that as an
apple originally brought sin and ignorance into the world,
the same fruit proved thereafter the cause of vast knowledge
and enlightenment;—and indeed we may doubt whether any
other fruit but an apple, and a sour one at that, would have
produced these great results;—for, had the fallen fruit been
a pear, an orange, or a peach, there is little doubt that Newton
would have eaten it up and thought no more on the subject.
As in this world you will hardly ever find a man so
small but that he has some one else smaller than he, to look
up to and revolve around him, so in the Solar System we
find that the majority of the planets have one or more
smaller planets revolving about them. These small bodies
are termed secondaries, moons or satellites—the planets
themselves being called primaries.
We know at present of eighteen primaries, viz: Mercury,
Venus, the Earth, Mars, Flora, Vesta, Iris, Metis, Hebe,
Astrea, Juno, Ceres, Pallas, Hygeia, Jupiter, Saturn, Herschel,
Neptune, and another, yet unnamed. There are distributed
among these, nineteen secondaries, all of which,
except our Moon, are invisible to the naked eye.
We shall now proceed to consider, separately, the different
bodies composing the Solar System, and to make
known what little information, comparatively speaking,
science has collected regarding them. And, first in order, as
in place, we come to
THE SUN.
This glorious orb may be seen almost any clear day, by
looking intently in its direction, through a piece of smoked
glass. Through this medium it appears about the size of a
large orange, and of much the same color. It is, however,
somewhat larger, being, in fact 887,000 miles in diameter,
and containing a volume of matter equal to fourteen hundred
thousand globes of the size of the Earth, which is certainly
a matter of no small importance. Through the telescope it
appears like an enormous globe of fire, with many spots
upon its surface, which, unlike those of the leopard, are continually
changing. These spots were first discovered by a
gentleman named Galileo, in the year 1611. Though the
Sun is usually termed and considered the luminary of day,
it may not be uninteresting to our readers to know that it
certainly has been seen in the night. A scientific friend of
ours from New England (Mr. R. W. Emerson) while traveling
tinware, on the 21st of June, 1836, distinctly saw the Sun
in all its majesty, shining at midnight!—in fact, shining all
night! Emerson is not what you would call a superstitious
man, by any means—but, he left! Since that time many persons
have observed its nocturnal appearance in that part of the
country, at the same time of the year. This phenomenon has
never been witnessed in the latitude of San Diego, however,
and it is very improbable that it ever will be. Sacred history
informs us that a distinguished military man, named Joshua,
once caused the Sun to “stand still;” how he did it, is not
mentioned. There can, of course, be no doubt of the fact, that
he arrested its progress, and possibly caused it to “stand still;”
—but translators are not always perfectly accurate, and we
are inclined to the opinion that it might have wiggled a very
little, when Joshua was not looking directly at it. The
statement, however, does not appear so very incredible, when
we reflect that seafaring men are in the habit of actually
bringing the Sun down to the horizon every day at 12 Meridian.
This they effect by means of a tool made of brass,
glass and silver, called a sextant. The composition of the
Sun has long been a matter of dispute.
By close and accurate observation with an excellent opera-glass,
we have arrived at the conclusion that its entire surface
is covered with water to a very great depth; which water,
being composed by a process known at present only to the
Creator of the Universe and Mr. Paine of Worcester, Massachusetts,
generates carburetted hydrogen gas, which, being
which we, and the other planets, receive our light and heat.
The spots upon its surface are glimpses of water, obtained
through the fire; and we call the attention of our old friend
and former schoolmate, Mr. Agassiz, to this fact; as by
closely observing one of these spots with a strong refracting
telescope, he may discover a new species of fish, with little
fishes inside of them. It is possible that the Sun may burn
out after awhile, which would leave this world in a state of
darkness quite uncomfortable to contemplate; but even under
these circumstances it is pleasant to reflect, that courting and
love-making would probably increase to an indefinite extent,
and that many persons would make large fortunes by
the sudden rise in value of coal, wood, candles, and gas, which
would go to illustrate the truth of the old proverb, “It's an
ill wind that blows nobody any good.”
Upon the whole, the Sun is a glorious creation; pleasing
to gaze upon (through smoked glass), elevating to think upon,
and exceedingly comfortable to every created being on a cold
day; it is the largest, the brightest, and may be considered
by far the most magnificent object in the celestial sphere;
though with all these attributes it must be confessed that it
is occasionally entirely eclipsed by the moon.
2. CHAPTER II.
We shall now proceed to the consideration of the several
planets.
MERCURY.
This planet, with the exception of the asteroids, is the
in consequence, cannot be seen (on account of the Sun's
superior light), except at its greatest eastern and western
elongations, which occur in March and April, August and
September, when it may be seen for a short time immediately
after sunset and shortly before sunrise. It then appears
like a star of the first magnitude, having a white twinkling
light, and resembling somewhat the star Regulus in the constellation
Leo. The day in Mercury is about ten minutes
longer than ours, its year is about equal to three of our months.
It receives six and a half times as much heat from the Sun
as we do; from which we conclude that the climate must be
very similar to that of Fort Yuma, on the Colorado River.
The difficulty of communication with Mercury will probably
prevent its ever being selected as a military post; though it
possesses many advantages for that purpose, being extremely
inaccessible, inconvenient, and, doubtless, singularly uncomfortable.
It receives its name from the God, Mercury, in
the Heathen Mythology, who is the patron and tutelary Divinity
of San Diego County.
VENUS.
This beautiful planet may be seen either a little after
sunset, or shortly before sunrise, according as it becomes
the morning or the evening star, but never departing quite
48° from the Sun. Its day is about twenty-five minutes
shorter than ours; its year seven and half months or thirty-two
weeks. The diameter of Venus is 7,700 miles, and she
Earth.
An old Dutchman named Schroeter spent more than ten
years in observations on this planet, and finally discovered a
mountain on it twenty-two miles in height, but he never could
discover any thing on the mountain, not even a mouse, and
finally died about as wise as when he commenced his
studies.
Venus, in Mythology, was a Goddess of singular beauty,
who became the wife of Vulcan, the blacksmith, and we regret
to add, behaved in the most immoral manner after her
marriage. The celebrated case of Vulcan vs. Mars, and the
consequent scandal, is probably still fresh in the minds of
our readers. By a large portion of society, however, she was
considered an ill-used and persecuted lady, against whose
high tone of morals, and strictly virtuous conduct not a
shadow of suspicion could be cast; Vulcan, by the same
parties, was considered a horrid brute, and they all agreed
that it served him right when he lost his case and had to
pay the costs of court. Venus still remains the Goddess of
Beauty, and not a few of her protégés may be found in
California.
THE EARTH.
The Earth, or as the Latins called it, Tellus (from which
originated the expression, “do tell us),” is the third planet
in the Solar System, and the one on which we subsist, with
all our important joys and sorrows. The San Diego Herald
payable invariably in advance. As the Earth is by no means
the most important planet in the system, there is no reason to
suppose that it is particularly distinguished from the others
by being inhabited. It is reasonable, therefore, to conclude,
that all the other planets of the system are filled with living,
moving and sentient beings; and as some of them are superior
to the Earth in size and position, it is not improbable
that their inhabitants may be superior to us in physical and
mental organization.
But if this were a demonstrable fact, instead of a mere
hypothesis, it would be found a very difficult matter to persuade
us of its truth. To the inhabitants of Venus, the
Earth appears like a brilliant star, very much, in fact, as
Venus appears to us; and, reasoning from analogy, we are
led to believe that the election of Mr. Pierce, the European
war, or the split in the great Democratic party produced but
very little excitement among them.
To the inhabitants of Jupiter, our important globe appears
like a small star of the fourth or fifth magnitude. We
recollect some years ago gazing with astonishment upon the
inhabitants of a drop of water, developed by the Solar Microscope,
and secretly wondering whether they were or not reasoning
beings, with souls to be saved. It is not altogether a
pleasant reflection that a highly scientific inhabitant of
Jupiter, armed with a telescope of (to us) inconceivable
form, may be pursuing a similar course of inquiry, and indulging
in similar speculations regarding our Earth and its
attracted by the movements of a grand celebration of
Fourth of July in New York, or a mighty convention in
Baltimore. “God bless my soul,” he exclaims, “I declare
they're alive, these little creatures, do see them wriggle!”
To an inhabitant of the Sun, however, he of Jupiter is
probably quite as insignificant, and the Sun man is possibly
a mere atom in the opinion of a dweller in Sirius. A little
reflection on these subjects leads to the opinion, that the
death of an individual man on this Earth, though perhaps
as important an event as can occur to himself, is calculated
to cause no great convulsion of Nature or disturb particularly
the great aggregate of created beings.
The Earth moves round the sun from west to east in a
year, and turns on its axis in a day; thus moving at the
rate of 68,000 miles an hour in its orbit, and rolling around
at the tolerably rapid rate of 1,040 miles per hour. As our
readers may have seen that when a man is galloping a horse
violently over a smooth road, if the horse from viciousness
or other cause suddenly stops, the man keeps on at the
same rate over the animal's head; so we, supposing the
Earth to be suddenly arrested on its axis, men, women,
children, horses, cattle and sheep, donkeys, editors and members
of Congress, with all our goods and chattels, would be
thrown off into the air at a speed of 173 miles a minute,
every mother's son of us describing the arc of a parabola
which is probably the only description we should ever be
able to give of the affair.
This catastrophe, to one sufficiently collected to enjoy it,
would, doubtless, be exceedingly amusing; but as there would
probably be no time for laughing, we pray that it may not
occur until after our demise; when, should it take place, our
monument will probably accompany the movement. It is a
singular fact, that if a man travel round the Earth in an eastwardly
direction, he will find, on returning to the place of
departure, he has gained one whole day; the reverse of this
proposition being true also, it follows that the Yankees who
are constantly travelling to the West, do not live as long by a
day or two as they would if they had staid at home; and supposing
each Yankee's time to be worth $1.50 per day, it may
be easily shown that a considerable amount of money is annually
lost by their roving dispositions.
Science is yet but in its infancy; with its growth, new
discoveries of an astounding nature will doubtless be made,
among which, probably, will be some method by which the
course of the Earth may be altered and it be steered with the
same ease and regularity through space and among the stars,
as a steamboat is now directed through the water. It will
be a very interesting spectacle to see the Earth “rounding
to,” with her head to the air, off Jupiter, while the Moon is
sent off laden with mails and passengers for that planet, to
bring back the return mails and a large party of rowdy Jupiterians
going to attend a grand prize fight in the ring of
Saturn.
Well, Christopher Columbus would have been just as
much astonished at a revelation of the steamboat, and the locomotive
which our intelligent posterity during the ensuing
year, A. D. 2,000, will possibly look upon as a very ordinary
and common-place affair.
Only three days ago we asked a medium, where Sir John
Franklin was at that time; to which he replied, he was cruising
about (officers and crew all well) on the interior of the
Earth, to which he had obtained entrance through Symmes'
Hole!
With a few remarks upon the Earth's Satellite, we conclude
the first Lecture on Astronomy; the remainder of the
course being contained in a second Lecture, treating of the
planets, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn and Neptune, the Asteroids,
and the fixed stars, which last, being “fixings,” are, according
to Mr. Charles Dickens, American property.
THE MOON.
This resplendent luminary, like a youth on the 4th of
July, has its first quarter; like a ruined spendthrift its last
quarter; and like an omnibus, is occasionally full, and new.
The evenings on which it appears between these last stages
are beautifully illumined by its clear, mellow light.
The Moon revolves in an elliptical orbit about the Earth
in twenty-nine days twelve hours forty-four minutes and three
seconds, the time which elapses between one new Moon and
another. It was supposed by the ancient philosophers that
the Moon was made of green cheese, an opinion still entertained
by the credulous and ignorant. Kepler and Tyco
Brahe, however, held to the opinion that it was composed of
cake, the light blanc mange. Modern advances in science
and the use of Lord Rosse's famous telescope, have demonstrated
the absurdity of all these speculations by proving conclusively
that the Moon is mainly composed of the Ferro—
sesqui—cyanuret, of the cyanide of potassium! Up to the
latest dates from the Atlantic States, no one has succeeded in
reaching the Moon. Should any one do so hereafter, it will
probably be a woman, as the sex will never cease making an
exertion for that purpose as long as there is a man in it.
Upon the whole, we may consider the Moon an excellent
institution, among the many we enjoy under a free, republican
form of government, and it is a blessed thing to reflect that
the President of the United States cannot veto it, no matter how
strong an inclination he may feel, from principle or habit, to do so.
It has been ascertained beyond a doubt that the Moon has
no air. Consequently, the common expressions, “the Moon
was gazing down with an air of benevolence,” or with “an
air of complacency,” or with “an air of calm superiority,” are
incorrect and objectionable, the fact being that the Moon has
no air at all.
The existence of the celebrated “Man in the Moon” has
been frequently questioned by modern philosophers. The
whole subject is involved in doubt and obscurity. The only
authority we have for believing that such an individual exists,
and has been seen and spoken with, is a fragment of an
old poem composed by an ancient Astronomer of the name of
Goose, which has been handed down to us as follows:
To inquire the way to Norwich;
The man in the South, he burned his mouth,
Eating cold, hot porridge.”
The evidence conveyed in this distich is however rejected
by the sceptical, among modern Astronomers, who consider
the passage an allegory. “The man in the South,” being
supposed typical of the late John C. Calhoun, and the “cold,
hot porridge,” alluded to the project of nullification.
END OF LECTURE FIRST.
Note by the Author.—Itinerant Lecturers are cautioned
against making use of the above production, without obtaining
the necessary authority from the proprietors of the Pioneer Magazine.
To those who may obtain such authority, it may be well
to state, that at the close of the Lecture it was the intention of
the author to exhibit and explain to the audience an orrery, accompanying
and interspersing his remarks by a choice selection
of popular airs on the hand-organ.
An economical orrery may be constructed by attaching
eighteen wires of graduated lengths to the shaft of a candlestick,
apples of different sizes being placed at their extremities to represent
the Planets, and a central orange resting on the candlestick,
representing the Sun.
An orrery of this description is however liable to the objection,
that if handed around among the audience for examination,
it is seldom returned uninjured. The author has known an instance
in which a child four years of age, on an occasion of this
kind, devoured in succession the planets Jupiter and Herschel,
and bit a large spot out of the Sun before he could be arrested.
J. P.
| Phœnixiana; or, Sketches and burlesques | |