 | Phœnixiana; or, Sketches and burlesques |  |
LECTURES ON ASTRONOMY—PART II.
MARS.
This planet may be easily recognized by its bright, ruddy
appearance, and its steady light. It resembles in size and
color the stars Arcturus, in Bootes, and Antares, in Scorpio;
but, as it is not like them, continually winking, we may consider
it, in some respects, a body of superior gravity. Our
readers will be pleased to learn that Mars is an oblate
spheroid, with a diameter of 4,222 miles. It is seven times
smaller than the Earth; its day is forty-four minutes longer
than ours, and its year is equal to twenty-two and a half of
our months. It receives from the sun only one half as much
light and heat as the Earth, and has no moon; which, in
some respects, may be considered a blessing, as the poets of
Mars cannot be eternally writing sonnets on that subject.
the patron of soldiers, usually termed sons of Mars,
though it was well remarked by some philosopher, that they
are generally sons of pa's also. Macauley, however, in his
severe review of “Hanson's Life of the Rev. Eleazer Williams,”
remarks with great originality, that “It is a wise
child that knows its own father.”
Mars is also the tutelary divinity of Fillibusters, and we
are informed by several of the late troops of the late President
William Walker, that this planet was of great use in
guiding that potentate during his late nocturnal rambles
through the late Republic of Sonora. The ruddy appearance
of Mars is not attributed to his former bad habits, but to the
great height of his atmosphere, which must be very favorable
to the æronauts of that region, where, doubtless, ballooning
is the principal method of locomotion. Upon the whole,
Mars is but a cold and ill-conditioned planet, and if, as
some persons believe, the souls of deceased soldiers are sent
thither, there can be little inducement to die in service, unless,
indeed, larger supplies of commissary whiskey and tobacco
are to be found there than the present telescopic observations
would lead us to believe.
JUPITER.
This magnificent planet is the largest body, excepting
the Sun, in the Solar System. “It may be readily distinguished
from the fixed stars by its peculiar splendor and
magnitude, appearing to the unclothed eye, almost as resplendent
her distance from the Sun.” Its day is but nine hours, fifty-five
minutes and fifty seconds; but it has rather a lengthy
year, equivalent to nearly twelve years of our time. It is
about thirteen hundred times larger than the Earth.
In consequence of the rapid movement of Jupiter upon
his axis, his form is that of an oblate spheroid, very considerably
flattened at its poles, and the immense centrifugal
force resulting from this movement (26,554 miles per hours),
would, undoubtedly, have long since caused him to fly
asunder, were it not for a wise provision of nature, which
has caused enormous belts or hoops, to encircle his entire
surface.
These hoops, usually termed belts, are plainly visible
through the telescope. They are eight in number, and are
supposed to be made of gutta percha, with an outer edge of
No. 1 boiler iron. Owing to the great distance of Jupiter
from the Sun, he receives but one twenty-seventh part of the
light and heat that we do from that body. To preserve the
great balance of Nature, it is therefore probable, that the
whales of Jupiter are twenty-seven times larger than ours,
and that twenty-seven times as much cord-wood is cut on
that planet as on the Earth.
The axis of Jupiter is perpendicular to the plane of its
orbit; hence its climate has no variation of seasons in the
same latitude. It has four moons, three of which may be
readily discerned with an ordinary spy-glass. By observation
on the eclipses of these satellites, the velocity of light
minutes and thirteen seconds in coming to us from the Sun.
According to the poet, “the light of other days” has a considerably
slow motion. Jupiter, in the Heathen Mythology,
was the King of the Gods. As there can be no doubt that,
with the progress of time, advancement in liberal ideas, and
a knowledge of the immortal principles of democracy, has
obtained among these divinities, it is probable that he has
long since been deposed, and his kingdom converted into a
republic, over whose destinies, according to the well-known
principles of availability, some one-eyed Cyclops, unknown
to fame, has probably been elected to preside. His representative
will, however, always remain King of the Planets,
while such things as kings exist; after which he will become
their undisputed president. Jupiter is the patron of Monarchs,
Presidents and Senators. It is doubtful, however,
whether he pays much attention to State Senators, or even
continues his patronage to him of the Congressional body
who fails to be re-elected, although bent on being notorious,
he may continue to vociferate that he “knows a hawk from
a hand-saw,” and was “not educated at West Pint.”
SATURN.
Whoever, during the present year, has had his attention
attracted by that beautiful group, the Pleiades, or Seven
Stars, may have noticed near them, in the constellation
Taurus, a star apparently of the first magnitude, shining with
a peculiarly white light, and beaming down with a gentle,
Saturn, which, moving slowly at the rate of two minutes daily
among the stars, may be readily traced from one constellation
to another. Saturn is nearly nine hundred millions of miles
from the Sun. His volume is eleven hundred times that of
the Earth; and while his year is equivalent to twenty-nine
and a half of ours, his day is shorter by more than one-half.
Receiving but one-nineteenth part of the light from the Sun
that we do, it follows that the inhabitants of Saturn are not
equally enlightened with us; and supposing them to be physically
constituted as we are, stoves and cooking ranges undoubtedly
go off at a ready sale and pretty high figure among
them. Saturn differs from all the other planets, in being
surrounded by three rings, consecutive to each other, which
shine by reflection from the Sun, with superior brilliancy to
the planet itself. It is also attended by eight satellites.
Many theories have been started to account for the rings of
Saturn, but none of them are satisfactory. Our own opinion
is that this planet was originally diversified, like the Earth,
with continents of land and vast oceans of water. By the
rapid motion of the planet upon its axis, the oceans were collected
near the equatorial regions, whence by the immense
centrifugal force, they were subsequently thrown clear from
the surface, and remained revolving about the denser body,
at that distance where the centrifugal force and the attraction
of gravitation, from the other planets, were in equilibrio.
The ships floating on the surface of the waters at the time
of this great convulsion, of course, went with them, and it is
have undoubtedly long since perished, after maintaining for
a while their miserably isolated existence on a precarious
supply of fish.
It is a curious and interesting fact, much dwelt on in
popular treatises on Astronomy, that were a cannon ball fired
from the Earth to Saturn, it would be one hundred and
eighty years in getting there. The only useful deduction
that we are able to make from this fact, however, is, that the
inhabitants of Saturn, if warned of their danger by the sight
of the flash or the sound of the explosion, would have ample
opportunity in the course of the one hundred and eighty years,
to dodge the shot!
Saturn was the father of all the Heathen Divinities, and
we regret to say, was a most disreputable character. It will
hardly be credited that he had a revolting habit of devouring
his children shortly after their birth, and it was only by a
pious deception of his wife, who furnished him with dogs,
sheep, buffalo, and the like, on these occasions, with assurances
that they were his offspring, that Jupiter and his
brothers were preserved from their impending fate. A person
of such a disposition could never be tolerated in a civilized
community, and there is little doubt that if Saturn were
a resident of the Earth at the present time, and should persist
in his unpleasant practices, he would speedily be arrested
and held to bail in a large amount.
HERSCHEL.
We know little of this planet, except that with its six
moons, it was discovered by Dr. Herschel, a native of the
island of England (situated on the north-west coast of
Europe), in 1781. It was named by him the “Georgium
Sidus,” as a tribute of respect to a miserable, blind, old
lunatic, who at that time happened to be king of the Island.
Overlooking the sycophancy of the man, in their admiration
for the services of the Astronomer, his philosophical contemporaries
re-named the planet, Herschel, by which title it is
still known. An attempt made by the courtiers of the English
king to call it Uranus (a Latin expression, meaning
“You reign over us”), happily failed to succeed. Herschel
is supposed to be about eighty times larger than the Earth,
and to have a period of revolution of about eighty-four years,
but its diurnal motion has not yet been discovered.
NEPTUNE
Was discovered by a French gentleman, named Le Verrier,
in 1846. It is supposed to be about forty thousand miles
in diameter, and to have a period of one hundred and sixty-four
years. But of this planet, and another still more remote
from the Sun, lately discovered (to which the literati
and savans of Europe propose to give the name of Squibob,
a Hebrew word signifying, “There you go with your eye
out”), we know little from actual observation. That they
exist, there can be no doubt, and it is possible, to use the expressive
more of the same sort left” beyond them.
Neptune is the God of the Sea, an unpleasant element,
full of disagreeable fish, horrible sea-lious, and equivocal serpents,
the reflection on which, or some other reasons, generally
makes every one sick who ventures upon it. He married
a Miss Amphitrite, who, unlike sailors' wives in general,
usually accompanies her husband on all his voyages. Neptune
is the tutelar deity of seamen, who generally allude to
him as “Davy Jones,” and speak of the ocean as his “locker”
(a locker indeed, in which untold thousands of their
worn-out bones are bleaching), and on crossing the Equinoctial
line, it was formerly the custom among them to perform
certain rites in his honor, which pagan ceremonial has gradually
passed out of date.
THE ASTEROIDS.
These are ten small planets, revolving about the Sun in
different orbits, situated between those of Mars and Jupiter.
They can seldom be seen without a powerful telescope; and
are of no great importance when you see them. Our friend,
Dr. Olbers, who paid much attention to these little bodies, is
of the opinion that they are fragments of a large celestial
sphere, which formerly revolved between Mars and Jupiter,
and which, by some mighty internal convulsion, burst into
pieces. With this opinion we coincide. What caused the
explosion, how many lives were lost, and whether blame
could be attached to any one on account of it, are circumstances
of as the unfortunate inhabitants of the planet found
themselves after the occurrence. What purpose the Asteroids
now serve in the great economy of the Universe, it is
impossible to ascertain; it may be that they are reserved as
receptacles for the departed souls of ruined merchants and
broken brokers. As the Spaniard profoundly remarks,
“Quien Sabe?”
2. CHAPTER II.
OF THE FIXED STARS.
For convenience of description, Astronomers have divided
the entire surface of the Heavens into numerous small
tracts, called constellations, to which have been given names,
resulting from some real or fancied resemblance in the arrangement
of the stars composing them, to the objects indicated.
This resemblance is seldom very striking, but
nomenclature is arbitrary, and it is perhaps quite as well to
call a collection of stars that don't look at all like a scorpion,
“The Scorpion,” as to name an insignificant village, with
two or three hundred inhabitants, a tavern, no church, and
twenty-seven grog shops, Rome, or Carthage. We once
knew a couple of honest people, who named their eldest
child (a singularly pug-nosed little girl), Madonna, Madonna
Smith—and that infant grew up and did well, and
was lately married to a highly respectable young butcher.
A zone 16° in breadth, extending quite around the
Heavens, 8° on each side of the Ecliptic, is called Zodiac.
This zone is divided into twelve equal parts or constellations,
which are sometimes called the Signs of the Zodiac. The
following are the names of these constellations, in their regular
order, and the number of visible stars contained in each
| 1. Aries | The Hydraulic Ram, | 66 |
| 2. Taurus | The Irish Bull, | 141 |
| 3. Gemini | The Siamese Twins | 85 |
| 4. Cancer | The Soft Shelled Crab, | 83 |
| 5. Leo | The Dandy Lion, | 95 |
| 6. Virgo | The Virago, | 110 |
| 7. Libra | The Hay Scales | 51 |
| 8. Scorpio | The N. Y. Herald | 44 |
| 9. Sagittarius | The Sparrow, | 69 |
| 10. Capricornus | The Bishop, | 51 |
| 11. Aquarius | The Decanter, | 108 |
| 12. Pisces | The Sardines, | 73 |
To discover the position of these several constellations
it is merely necessary to have a starting point. On looking
at the Heavens during the month of April, and considering
the stars therein intently, the observer will at length find
six bright stars arranged exactly in the form of a sickle.
A very bright star is at the extremity of the handle. This
is the star Regulus in the constellation Leo. Then some
30° further to the east, he will observe a very brilliant
star, with no visible stars near it. This is Spica in the
Virgin.
Still further east, rises Libra, distinguished by two rather
bright stars forming a parallelogram, with two rather dim
ones, followed by Scorpio, whose stars resemble in their arrangement
a kite, with a tail to it, and in which a brilliant
red star, named Antares, forms the centre. Then Sagittarius
Aquarius, in which the most careless observer will notice
four stars, forming very plainly, the letter Y. Pisces, a
loose straggling succession of stars, intervenes between this
sign and that of Aries, which may be distinguished by two
bright stars, about 4° apart, the brightest, to the N. E. of
the other. Taurus cannot be mistaken—it contains two remarkable
clusters, the Pleiades and the Hyades; the latter
forming a well-marked letter V. with the bright red star
Aldebaran at the upper left-hand corner. Gemini contains
two remarkably bright stars, Castor and Pollux;—the former
much the most brilliant and the more northerly of the
pair; they are but 5° apart. Then follows 30° including
Cancer, which contains no remarkably brilliant stars, and we
return to our starting point. In the month of September,
we would select as a starting point the star Antares, giving
us the position of the Scorpion. Antares is of a remarkably
red appearance, situated between, and equi-distant from, two
other less brilliant stars with which it forms a curved line,
which, extended by other stars, curve around at its extremity
like the tail of a flying kite, or if you please, like
the tail of a scorpion.
The fixed stars are classed according to their magnitude,
first, second, third, fourth, fifth, etc.; the stars of the fifth
magnitude being the smallest that can be seen by the unassisted
eye. It is by no means our intention, in this course
of lectures, to convey a complete, and thorough knowledge
of Uranography (we assure you, madam, that this word is
the limits prescribed us will not permit of it we shall, therefore,
confine ourselves to a brief description of the principal
constellations, trusting that the interest awakened in the
minds of our numerous readers on the subject, by our remarks,
may lead them to make it a study hereafter. For
this purpose we would recommend as a suitable preparation
a light course of reading, such, for instance, as “Church's
Deferential and Integral Calculus,” to be followed by
“Bartlett's Optics,' and Gummer's Elements of Astronomy.”
After this, by close and unremitting study of La
Place, and other eminent writers, for twenty or thirty years,
the reader, if of good natural ability, may acquire a superficial
knowledge of the science.
“The Great Bear” (which is spelled—Bear—and has
no reference whatever to Powers' Greek Slave) is one of the
most remarkable constellations in the Heavens. We cannot
imagine why it received its name, unless indeed, because it
has not the slightest resemblance to a great Bear, or any
other animal. It may be distinguished by means of a cluster
of seven brilliant stars, arranged in the form of a dipper
(not a duck, but a tin dipper). Of these, the two, forming
the side of the dipper, furthest from the handle, are named,
the lower Merak, the upper Dubhe, and are called the
Pointers, from the fact, that in whatever position the constellation
is observed, a line passing through these two stars
and continued in the direction of Dubhe for 28° passes
through Cynosura, the North or pole star. To this remarkable
needle will constantly point, a discovery which has
done more for commerce, made more sailors and caused
more fatigue to the legs of the author, than any other under
heaven, Colt's pistols not excepted. It must not be understood
that the needle points to the pole star, because the
star possesses any particular attraction for it. Currents of
electricity passing constantly from W. to E. about the earth,
cause the needle to point N. and S., and it is merely in consequence
of the star Cynosura lying exactly in the N., that
it appears directed toward it. Immediately opposite to the
Great Bear, beyond Cynosura, we observe the constellation
Cassiopeia, which, instead of representing as it should, a respectable
looking old woman sitting on a throne, takes the
appearance of a chair, which, constantly revolving about the
North star, is thrown into as many different positions as the
chair used by the celebrated “India-rubber man,” in his
wonderful feats of dexterity.
Near Cassiopeia, but further to the E., we find Andromeda,
which constellation, representing a young lady, chained
to a rock, without a particle of clothing, we shall not attempt
to point out more definitely. Perseus, near Andromeda,
holds in his hand the head of Medusa, a glance from whose
eyes turned the gazer into stone, which accounts for the origin
of the Stones, a numerous and highly respectable family
in the United States. If we prolong the handle of the dipper
some 25°, we observe a brilliant star of the first magnitude,
of a ruddy appearance, called Arcturus; which many
and he acknowledged he couldn't do it. The star is in the
knee of the Boötes (which is pronounced Bootees; he was
the inventor and wearer of those articles), who, with two
greyhounds, Asterion and Chara, is apparently driving the
Bear forever around the pole. A beautiful star 30° E. of
Arcturus, named Lyra, distinguished by two small stars with
which it makes an equilateral triangle, points out the position
of the Harp; immediately beneath which is seen the Swan,
distinguished by five stars forming a large and regular cross,
the foot of which being turned up, prevents its being noticed,
unless closely examined. The bright star in the head of the
cross is Deneb Cygni. Twenty degrees S. E. of Lyra, we
observe the brilliant star Altair in the Eagle, equidistant
from two other small stars, making with it a slight curve.
The beautiful constellation Orion (which takes its name
from the founder of the celebrated Irish family of O'Ryan)
may be easily distinguished by its belt, three bright stars,
forming a right line about 3° in length; with three smaller
stars immediately below (forming an angle with it), which
distinguish the handle of the sword. The brilliant star of
the first magnitude, in the left shoulder of Orion, is called
Betelguese, that in the right shoulder, Bellatrix; the star in
the right knee, is Saiph, that in the left foot, Rigel. Some
20° N. E. of the seven stars, the brilliant star Capella, in
the Wagoner, may be recognized by three small stars, forming
an acute-angled triangle, immediately below it. A very
beautiful star, of peculiarly whitish lustre, named Formalhaut,
E. of the Y in Aquarius and cannot be mistaken, as it is the
only brilliant star in that part of the Heavens. We have
now mentioned most of the principal constellations, but we
suspect that the ardent curiosity and love of research of our
readers will hardly allow them to rest contented with the
meagre information thus conveyed, but that they will hasten
to seek in the writings of standard authors, such a knowledge
of this interesting subject, as the scope of these lectures will
not permit us to attempt imparting. They will thus find the
truth of Hamlet's statement, “that more things exist in
Heaven and Earth, than are dreamed of” in their philosophy.
Dragons, Hydras, Serpents and Centaurs, Big Dogs and Little
Dogs, Doves, Coons and Ladies' Hair, will be exhibited
to their admiring gaze, and they will also have their attention
directed to the remarkable constellation Phœnix (named
for an ancestor of the present Johannes, but not in the least
resembling him, or the family portraits), to which the modesty
of the author has merely permitted him to make this brief
allusion. On the subject of Comets, we should have desired
to make a lengthy dissertation; but Professor Silliman in his
late efforts to throw light upon it, has decided that these
bodies are nothing but Gas; which sets the matter at rest
forever, and renders discussion useless.
The lecture now closes, with an exhibition of the “Phantasmagoria”
(which is the scientific name of a tin Magic
Lantern), showing the various Heavenly Bodies tranquilly
revolving round the Sun, perfectly undisturbed by the extravagant
their paths in orbits of impossible eccentricity, while the
organ, slowly turned by the Professor with one hand (the
other imparting motion to the planets), emits in plaintive
tones that touching melody the “Low Backed Car,” giving
an excruciating and probably correct idea of the “Music of
the Spheres,” which nobody ever heard, and, therefore, the
correctness of the imitation cannot be disputed. This portion
of the entertainment should be continued as long as possible,
as the author has observed, it never fails to give great
satisfaction to the audience; any exhibition requiring a
darkened room, being a “sure card” of attraction in a community
where there are many young people, which accounts
for the wonderful success of Banvard's Panorama. Should
the Professor's arm become wearied before the audience are
entirely satisfied, it is easy to disperse them, by the simple
process of shutting down the slide, stopping the organ, and
inducing a small boy, by a trifling pecuniary compensation, to
holla Fire! in the vicinity of the lecture room.
The author acknowledges the receipt of “An Astronomical
Poem” from a “Young Observer,” commencing
“Oh, if I had a telescope with fourteen slides,”
second lecture; but the detestable attempt of the “Young
Observer” to make “slides” rhyme with “Pleiades” in the
second line, and the fearful pun in the thirty-seventh verse,
on “the Meteor by moonlight alone,” compel him to decline
author, on making known his real name, and engaging to
destroy it immediately.
| Phœnixiana; or, Sketches and burlesques | |