CHAPTER VIII

CLIMATE AND WEATHER

In gazing at the successive phases presented by the polar caps as their

annual history unrolls itself to view, beginning with vast white cloaks

that in winter hide so effectively the planet’s shoulders, to little

round knobs that in summer sit like guardsmen’s caps more or less askew

upon the poles, the bodily eye sees only the glisten of far-off snow.

The mind’s eye, however, perceives something more: the conviction they

carry of the presence of an atmosphere surrounding the planet. Elusive

as water vapor is to sight for its transparency and to spectroscopic

determination for its earthly omnipresence, recognition of its

existence elsewhere by deduction raises such reasoning at once to a

more conspicuous plane than it might otherwise assume. Especially is

this true where the deduction is itself conclusive, as is here the

case. For it depends on phenomena not its own, but which are in their

turn dependent on it. We are not even beholden to any knowledge of the

substance composing the caps for the fundamental inference that an

atmosphere surrounds them. Whatever that substance were, the fact that

the caps dissipate and reform shows us with absolute certainty that

they pass into the gaseous state, to be later solidified afresh. This

gas constitutes of itself an atmosphere; while another phenomenon, to

wit, their blue girdles as they melt, affirming their substance to be

snow and ice, enables us to precise the fact that this gas is water

vapor.

From such premise given us by the polar caps we are able to infer much

more by the help of the kinetic theory of gases. But the speed of

parting by a planet with its gases is conditioned by the mean speed of

each gas. Water vapor will, therefore, go before nitrogen, oxygen or

carbonic acid gas. If, then, we find it present over the surface of a

planet we are assured of the possibility that the other three may be

there too, and from the similarity of matter in space strong reason to

suspect that they actually are.

Corroborative evidence of the accuracy of the deduction as to the

presence of a Martian air is shown in several other ways; in the

existence of clouds to begin with. Rare as they are, these certainly

float at times over parts of the planet, although it is doubtful

whether they can then be seen. Fortunately for assurance we have other

ways of ascertaining their presence than that of obscuration. Nor is it

of account to the argument that they should be few and far between, as

they unquestionably are. One single instance of such mediumistic

support is enough to support the theory of a medium; and that instance

has been more than once observed.

Direct evidence of atmosphere is further forthcoming in the limb-light.

This phenomenon might be described as a brilliant obscuration. It is a

circlet of illumination that swamps the features as they near the full

edge of the disk, the limb of the planet as it is called. Obliteration

of the sort is evident, more or less markedly, at all times, and is not

due to foreshortening, as the broadest areas are affected. The fading

out of the detail at the limb suggests nothing so much as a veil drawn

between us and it, lighter in tint than what it covers. Such a veil can

be none other than air or the haze and cloud that air supports. From

its effect, impartial in place and partial in character, cloud is

inadmissible as a cause and we are left with air charged with dust or

vapor in explanation. Obscuration due to it should prove most dense at

the limb, since there the eye has to penetrate a greater depth of it;

just as on the earth our own air gives azure dimness to the distance in

deepened tinting as the mountains lie remote.

Another bit of evidence lies in the apparent detection of a twilight

arc. In 1894 measures made of the polar and equatorial diameters of the

planet showed certain systematic residuals left after all known

corrections had been applied. The only thing which would account for

them was the supposition that a twilight arc had been unconsciously

seen and as unconsciously measured. In delicate quantities of the sort

too great reliance cannot be put, but if the residuals be not referable

to other cause they give us not only further evidence of an atmosphere,

but at the same time our only hint of that atmosphere’s extent. From

them it would seem that the air must be rare, not more than about four

inches of barometric pressure, as we reckon it, and probably less; a

thin, high air more rarefied than prevails upon our highest mountain

tops.

Corroborative of this is the aspect of the planet. From the general

look of the disk a scant covering of air is inferable. For one of the

striking things about the planet’s features is their patent exposure to

our sight. Except in the winter time of its hemisphere or in the spring

after the greatest melting of the polar cap, nothing seems to stand in

our way of an uninterrupted view of the surface, whether in the arctic,

temperate, or tropic zones. From the openness of its expression,

however, too much case should not be made as we really know but little

of how an atmosphere-enshrouded planet would look. We find no

difficulty in seeing objects a hundred miles away across the surface of

the earth and yet the thickness of the air strata in such horizontal

traversing is many fold what it is when we look directly up. It is also

out of all proportion laden with dust and smoke. In the purer regions

of the earth, a clear air imposes but little bar to sight, and conjures

up far things startlingly distinct.

Nevertheless, every evidence points to a thin air upon Mars: _a priori_

reasoning, indirect deduction and direct sight. Now, from a thinness of

atmosphere it would follow, other things equal, that the climate was

cold. About this there has been much question, but less of answering

reply. From the distance of the planet from the sun it is certain less

heat is received by it than falls upon the earth in something like the

ratio of one to two. But that the amount effective is as the amount

received is far from sure. The available heat is much affected by the

manner of its reception. A blanket of air acts like the glass of a

conservatory, letting the light rays in, but hindering the heat rays

out. The light rays falling on the ground or the air are transformed

into heat rays that, finding the return journey less easy, are

consequently trapped. All substances are thus calorifiers, but water

vapor is many times more potent than ordinary air to heat-ensnaring. A

humid air has a hothouse tang to it most perceptible. Now, what the

relative percentage of water vapor in the Martian atmosphere may be we

do not know.

The thinness of the Martian air has caused it to be likened to that

upon our highest mountain peaks which are in large part covered with

perpetual snow. But the comparison is not well founded. A peak differs

materially from a plateau in the countenance it gives to the heat

falling upon it. On a plateau each warmed acre of ground helps the

retention of heat by its neighbor; while in addition to being destitute

of side support the higher winds generated about an isolated peak blow

its own caloric away. Still less does any analogy hold between the two

when the plateau is a world-wide one.

From these considerations it is evident glosses are possible upon the

bald idea of a much lower temperature prevailing on the Martian surface

than on the earth’s. Doubtless the theoretic cold has been greatly

overdone. Reversely, recent observations tend to lower the apparent

temperature disclosed by the features of the disk, and between the

rising of the theoretic and the falling of the observed we are left

with a very reasonable compromise and reconcilement as the result.

The various look and behavior of the surface of Mars point to a mean

temperature colder than that of the earth, but above the freezing-point

of water; for regions, at least, outside of the polar caps and during

all but the winter months. Except at certain special spots, and

possibly even there, frost is unknown at all times within the tropics

and except in winter in temperate latitudes. These anomalous

localities, mentioned in the preceding chapter, may be said to be the

exceptions that prove the rule of general non-glaciation. For if they

be snow, they stand witness to its absence elsewhere upon the disk, and

if they are not, they testify the more emphatically to the same effect.

As between different parts of the surface, the tilt of the Martian axis

and the greater length of the Martian seasons, the one the same as, the

other the double of, our own, tend to an accentuation of the heat in

the temperate and arctic or antarctic zones. The greatest insolation on

earth is not, as we might suppose, at the equator, but at the parallels

of 43.°5 north and south; even the poles themselves receiving a quarter

as much heat again on midsummer day as ever falls to the lot of the

line. This broad physical fact is equally true of Mars, while in the

matter of consecutive exposure Mars in summer outdoes the earth. For

the longer the seasons, the more nearly does the effective heat

approach the received amount. Thus both on the score of heat received

and of heat husbanded these zones must be relatively warm. And this

shows itself in the look of the surface. In summer it is clearly warmer

within the polar regions than is the case on earth, to judge by the

effect. In winter the cold is doubtless proportionately severe.

For the diurnal range of temperature we have less data. There is

evidence pointing to chilly nights, but it is meagre, and we are left

to fall back on the cold of our deserts at night for analogic condition

of the state of things over the Martian desert levels after the sun

goes down.

If we are uncertain of the precise character of the Martian climate, we

know on the other hand a good deal about the Martian weather. A

pleasing absence of it over much of the planet distinguishes Martian

conditions from our own. That we can scan the surface as we do without

practical interruption day in and day out proves the weather over it to

be permanently fair. In fact a clear sky, except in winter, and in many

places even then, is not only the rule, but the rule almost without

exceptions. In the early days of Martian study cases of obscuration

were recorded from time to time by observers, in which portions of the

disk were changed or hidden as if clouds were veiling them from view.

More modern observations fail to support this deduction, partly by

absence of instances, partly by other explanation of the facts.

Certainly the recorded instances are very rare. Indeed, occasions of

the sort must to any Martians be events, since only one possible

example has presented itself to me during the course of my

observations, extending more or less over eleven years. Even in this

case there was no obliteration, though a certain whiteness overspread

an area near the equator temporarily. Position seemed to point to its

identity with a cloud which made its appearance about that time upon

the terminator, and lasted for some thirty-six hours. The cloud,

however, showed evidence of being, not the kind with which we are

familiar, but a dust-storm, in keeping, indeed, with the desert region

(Chryse) in which it originated.

With the exception of sporadic disturbance of the sort the whole

surface of the planet outside the immediate vicinity of the polar caps

seems free from cloud or mist and to lie perpetually unveiled to space.

In the neighborhood of the caps, however, and especially round about

their edge, a very distinct pearly appearance is presented during the

months at which the cap is at its maximum, or in other words, in the

depth of its winter. Of a dull white hue and indefinite contour the

phenomenon suggests cloud. Where it lies spread no markings are

visible; an absence explicable by obscuration due an interposed medium,

but equally well by seasonal non-existence of the markings themselves,

which from the general behavior of these markings we know to be to some

extent certainly the fact. Of the regions where the effect is

noticeable, Hellas is the most striking. So conspicuously white during

the winter of the southern hemisphere as to have been often mistaken

for the polar cap, its ghost shows thus almost regularly every Martian

year. What is as suggestive as it is striking, the blanching is

confined to the solid circle constituting Hellas and does not extend

into the dark regions by which it is circumscribed. Hellas is as

self-contained when thus powdered as when, in its normal ochre or

abnormal red, it stretches like a broad buckler across the body of the

disk. That the land there lies at a higher level than its surroundings

is pretty certain, but that the difference can amount to enough to

explain its silveriness as ice is improbable. In latitude Hellas is

distinctly temperate, lying between the parallels of 55° and 30°; but

on Mars this is no warrant of a like climate. Again, though close on

the south to what constitutes the polar cap, it does not strictly form

part of that cap, but occupies both in position and in kind a something

intermediary between the frost-bound regions of periodic snow and the

warmer ones of perpetual sunshine. It seems to be afflicted with the

winter weather of the north of Europe, and to owe its pearly look at

such times to the same cloud canopy that then distressingly covers

those inclement lands.

Similar in behavior to it is the long chain of so-called islands that,

beginning southwest of Thaumasia, runs thence westward even to the

eastern edge of Hellas. These belt the planet in a west-northwesterly

direction by a strip of territory from ten to fifteen degrees wide, the

medial line of which begins at 55° south and ends in about 40°. They

are parted from the main bright areas by blue-green ‘seas’ of about the

same width as themselves, the Mare Sirenum, the Mare Cimmerium and Mare

Tyrrhenum. These ‘seas’ the white that covers the ‘islands’ never

crosses; though the continent, as we may call it for convenience,

descends at the east to 30° south. Since the ‘seas’ are not seas, the

cause which might bound the snow, were they such, cannot be the cause

here. Nevertheless, they have an effect of some sort on the isothermal

lines as is shown not only by latitudinal comparison with the state of

things in Hellas, but with that in Thaumasia as well. For 30° south is

also the limit apparently of the white on Thaumasia, where ochre desert

stretches ten degrees farther south still; the region in its southern

part being white-mantled, in its northern part not. Here again, then,

the ochre areas make exception to what affects the blue-green ones.

Clearly the blue-green regions temper the action of what gives them

wintry cloak. But why they should do this is not easy to explain on any

supposition terrestrial or marine. Bodies of water tend to foster the

formation of clouds; so, less markedly, do areas of vegetation. Neither

the old ideas, then, nor the new lend themselves in explanation. It may

be that while we here seem to be envisaging cloud we are in reality

looking at hoar-frost. On the other hand, light cloud would show less,

superposed over a dark background, than over an ochre one; and this,

the simplest of all explanations, may be the true one. It is facts like

these that intrigue us in the study of the Martian surface by revealing

conditions which render offhand analogy with the earth unsafe. Indeed,

we are more sure of some things which appear too strange to be true

than of others so simple on their face as to enlist belief. Among the

most difficult and perplexing are meteorological problems like the

above. Here we can only say provisionally that while cloud best answers

to the appearance, frost best fits the cause. For vegetation might melt

frost, yet not dissipate cloud. By raising our conception of the mean

temperature the facts can, however, be reconciled and this is probably

the solution of the difficulty after all.

As we saw in the annual history of the polar caps a dimness somewhat

different affects the northern cap in May and June. After the melting

of the cap is well under way a haziness sets in along its edge which

befuddles its outline and effectually hides what is going on within it.

When at last the screen clears away the cap is found to be reduced to

its least dimensions. Such obstructing sheet looks to be more of the

nature of mist caused by the excessive melting of the cap.

Unfortunately, there are here no patches of blue-green to test a

possible partiality in its behavior over such tracts; nor has similar

action ever yet been remarked in the case of the cap of the southern

hemisphere.

Regular recurrence at the appropriate season of the planet’s year,

together with extensive action at the time, takes this springtide mist

to some extent out of the domain of weather into that of climate. For

it prevails all round the cap and repeats itself in place as each fresh

spring comes on. At least it has done so for the past three oppositions

at which it has been possible to observe well the arctic zones. It is

thus both general in its application and fixed in its behavior.

Nevertheless, it betrays something of the fickleness which

characterizes that more inconstant thing: weather. For it comes and

goes, one thinks for good, only to find it there again some days later.

Not less captious is the meteorologic action shown in the making of the

new polar cap. When the northern one starts to form, vast areas of

frost are deposited in a single night. These, however, are not

permanent. The ground thus covered is during the next few days again

partially laid bare. Then a new fall occurs, hiding the surface a

little more completely than before, and the lost domain is more than

regained. By such wavelike advance and recession the tide of frost

creeps over and submerges the arctic regions as the late summer passes

into the autumn. In this alternate coming and going with succeeding

days, we have an unsteadfastness of action most fittingly paralleled by

our own weather. It would seem that local causes there as here are

superposed upon the orderly progress of the seasons and though at the

on-coming of the autumn the cold is steadily gathering strength,

nevertheless warm days occur now and then to stay its hand, only to be

succeeded in their turn by frosts more biting than before. Even on Mars

nothing in the way of weather is absolutely predicable but

impredicability.

Mars and Its Canals · 第 8 / 16 章