CHAPTER XXI.

MORE ABOUT COMETS AND METEORITES.

The three prominent features of comets--a head, nucleus, and tail--are

seen only in particular instances. The great majority appear as faint

globular masses of vapor, with little or no central condensation, and

without tails. On the other hand, some have a strongly-defined nucleus,

which shines with a light as vivacious as that of the planets, so as to

be even visible in the daytime. This was the case with one seen at Rome

soon after the assassination of Julius Cæsar, believed by the populace

to be the soul of the dictator translated to the skies. The first comet

of the year 1442 was also so brilliant, that the light of the sun at

noon, at the end of March, did not prevent it from being seen; and the

second, which appeared in the summer, was visible for a considerable

time before sunset. In 1532, the people of Milan were alarmed by the

appearance of a star in the broad daylight; and as Venus was not then

in a position to be visible, the object is inferred to have been a

comet. Tycho Brahe discovered the comet of 1577, from his observatory

in the isle of Huene, in the sound, before sunset; and Chizeaux saw the

comet of 1744, at one o’clock in the afternoon, without a telescope.

The comet of 1843, already referred to in a previous chapter, was

distinctly seen at noon by many persons in the streets of Bologna

without the aid of glasses. The nucleus is generally of small size,

but the surrounding nebulosity, which forms the head, is often of

immense extent; and the hazy envelope, the “horrid hair” of poetry, is

sometimes seen separated from it by a dark space, encircling it like a

ring. This was the aspect of the comet of 1811. The entire diameter of

the head measured 1,250,000 miles, and hence its bulk was nearly three

times that of the sun, and four million times that of the earth. But

such extraordinary dimensions are quite exceptional.

[Illustration: THE GREAT COMET OF 1811.]

Popular impressions respecting the supposed terrestrial effects of

the comet of 1811--a fine object in the autumn of that year, long

remembered by many--are on record. It was gravely noted, that wasps

were very few in number; that flies became blind, and disappeared

early; and that twins were born more frequently than usual. The

season was remarkable for its bountiful harvest and abundant vintage.

Grapes, figs, melons, and other fruits, were not only produced in

extraordinary quantity, but of delicious flavor, so that “comet wines”

had distinct bins allotted to them in the cellars of merchants, and

were sold at high prices. There is, however, no fact better attested,

by a comparison of observations, than that comets have no influence

whatever in heightening or depressing the temperature of the seasons.

The fine fruits and ample harvest of the year in question were,

therefore, coincidences merely with the celestial phenomenon, without

the slightest physical connection with it.

Though the advanced civilization of recent times has led to juster

views of cometary apparitions than to regard them as divinely-appointed

omens of terrestrial calamity, yet society is apt to be nervous

respecting these bodies, as likely to cause some great natural

convulsion by collision with our globe.

The great comet, which in 1682 received first the name of Halley’s

comet, appeared last in 1835, his return having been foretold within

three days of its actually taking place. For Halley’s comet is a member

of the Solar System, having a yearly journey of seventy-six earthly

years. He journeys nearer the sun than Venus, and travels farther away

than Neptune.

In the years 1858, 1861, and 1862, three more comets appeared, all

visible without the help of a telescope. Of these three, Donati’s

comet, in 1858, was far superior to the rest. This fine object was

first discovered on the 2d of June by Dr. Donati, at Florence. It

appeared at first as a faint nebulous patch of light, without any

remarkable condensation; and as its motion towards the sun at that

time was slow, it was not till the beginning of September that it

became visible to the naked eye. A short tail was then seen on the side

opposite to the sun.

[Illustration: DONATI’S COMET, 1858.]

The development was afterwards rapid, and the comet became equally

interesting to the professional astronomer and to the unlearned gazer.

In the first week of October the tail attained its greatest length,

36°. At this time the tail was sensibly curved, and had the appearance

of a large ostrich-feather when waved gently in the hand. At the latter

end of October the comet was lost in the evening twilight. Its nearest

approach to the earth was about equal to half the distance of the earth

from the sun, and the nearest approach to Venus was about one-ninth

part of that distance. An elliptical orbit, with a periodic time of

more than 2,000 years, has been assigned to our late visitor.

It was a singular fact about this comet that at one time the star

Arcturus could be seen shining through the densest portion of the tail,

close to the nucleus. Now, although the faintest cloud-wreath of earth

would dim, if not hide, this star, yet the tail of the great comet was

of so transparent a nature that Arcturus shone undimmed, as if no veil

had come between. The exceedingly slight and airy texture of a comet’s

tail could hardly be more plainly shown. It was this gauzy appendage to

a little nucleus which men once thought could destroy our solid earth

at a single blow!

These cometary trains generally appear straight, or at least, by the

effect of perspective, they seem to be directed along the arcs of great

circles of the celestial sphere. Some are recorded, however, which

presented a different appearance. Thus, in 1689, a comet was seen whose

tail, according to the historians, was curved like a Turkish saber.

This tail had a total length of 68°. It was the same with the beautiful

comet of Donati, which we admired in 1858, and of which the tail had a

very decided curvature.

A comet can only be observed in the sky for a limited time. We

perceive it at first in a region where nothing was visible on preceding

days. The next day, the third day, we see it again; but it has changed

its place considerably among the constellations. We can thus follow it

in the sky for a certain number of days, often during several months;

then we cease to perceive it. Often the comet is lost to view because

it approaches the sun, and the vivid light of that body hides it

completely; but soon we observe it again on the other side of the sun,

and it is not till some time afterwards that it definitely disappears.

Some have been visible at noonday, quite near the sun, like that of

1882, on September 17th.

Yet, while taking care not to overrate, we must not underrate. True,

the comets are delicate and slight in structure. One comet, in 1770,

wandered into the very midst of Jupiter’s moons, and so small was its

weight that it had no power whatever, so far as has been detected, to

disturb the said moons in their orbits. Jupiter and his moons did very

seriously disturb the comet, however; and when he came out from their

midst, though none the worse for his adventure, he was forced to travel

in an entirely new orbit, and never managed to get back to his old

pathway again.

But there are comets _and_ comets, some being heavier than others. The

comet named after Donati, albeit too transparent to hide a star, was

yet so immense in size that his weight was calculated by one astronomer

to amount to as much as a mass of water forty thousand miles square and

one hundred and nine yards deep.

When first noticed, Donati’s comet had, like all large comets, a

bright envelope of light round the nucleus. After a while the one

envelope grew into three envelopes, and a new tail formed beside the

principal tail, which for a time was seen to bend gracefully into a

curve, like a splendid plume. A third, but much fainter tail, also

made its appearance, and many angry-looking jets were poured out from

the nucleus. These changes took place while the comet was passing

through the great heat of near neighborhood to the sun. Afterwards, as

he passed away, he seemed gradually to cool down and grow quiet. The

singular changes in the appearance of Newton’s comet have been earlier

noticed. No marvel that he did undergo some alterations. The tremendous

glare and burning heat which that comet had to endure in his rush past

the sun, were more than twenty-five thousand times as much as the glare

and heat of the fiercest tropical noonday ever known upon earth. Can we

wonder that he should have shown “signs of great excitement,” that his

head should have grown larger and his tail longer?

It certainly was amazing, and past comprehension, that the said tail,

over ninety millions of miles in length, should in four days have

seemingly swept round in a tremendous half-circle, so as first to point

in one direction, and then to point in just the opposite direction.

We are much in the habit of speaking about comets as traveling through

the heavens with their tails streaming behind them. But though this is

sometimes the case, it is by no means always.

The tails of comets always stream _away from the sun_--whether before

or behind the comet’s head seeming to be a matter of indifference. As

the comet comes hurrying along his orbit, with ever-increasing speed,

towards the sun, the head journeys first, and the long tail follows

after. But as the comet rounds the loop of his orbit near the sun--the

point nearest of all being called his _perihelion_--the head always

remains towards the sun, while the tail swings, or seems to swing, in

a magnificent sweep round, pointing always in the direction just away

from the sun.

Then, as the comet journeys with slackening speed, on the other side of

his orbit, towards the distant _aphelion_, or farthest point from the

sun, he still keeps his head towards the sun. So, at this part of his

passage, in place of the head going first and the tail following after,

the tail goes first and the head follows after. The comet thus appears

to be moving backwards; or, like an engine pushing instead of drawing a

train, the head seems to be driving the tail before it.

[Illustration: GREAT COMET OF 1744.]

[Illustration: THE FIRST COMET OF 1888--JUNE 4.]

The sun, then, acts on these bodies when they approach him, produces

in them important physical and chemical transformations, and exercises

on their developed atmosphere a repulsive force, the nature of which

is still unknown to us, but the effects of which coincide with the

formation and development of the tails. The tails are thus, in the

extension of the cometary atmosphere, driven back, either by the

solar heat, by the light, by electricity, or by other forces; and

this extension is rather a motion in the ether than a real transport

of matter, at least in the great comets which approach very near the

sun, and in their immense luminous appendages. The effects produced

and observed are not the same in all comets, which proves that they

differ from each other in several respects. The tails have sometimes

been seen to diminish before the perihelion passage, as in 1835.

Luminous envelopes have also been seen succeeding each other round the

head, concentrating themselves on the side opposite to the sun, and

leaving the central line of the tail darker than the two sides. This

is what happened in the Donati comet and in that of 1861. Sometimes a

secondary tail has been seen projected towards the sun, as in 1824,

1850, 1851, and 1880. Comets have been seen with the head enveloped in

phosphorescence, surrounding them with a sort of luminous atmosphere.

Comets have also been seen with three, four, five, and _six tails_,

like that of 1744, for example, which appeared like a splendid aurora

borealis rising majestically in the sky, until, the celestial fan being

raised to its full height, it was perceived that the six jets of light

all proceeded from the same point, which was nothing else but the

nucleus of a comet. On the other hand, the nuclei themselves show great

variations--some appear simply nebulous, and permit the faintest stars

to be visible through them; others seem to be formed of one or more

solid masses surrounded by an enormous atmosphere; in others, again, a

nucleus does not exist, as in the Southern comet of 1887. One of the

comets of 1888 showed a triple nucleus and a bristling coma, as may

be seen in the cut. We may, then, consider that the wandering bodies

collected under the name of comets are of several origins and _several

different species_.

_Why_ the tails of comets should so persistently avoid the sun it is

impossible to say. We do not even know whether the cause lies actually

in the sun or in the comet. Astronomers speak of the “repulsive

energy” with which the sun “sweeps away” from his neighborhood the

light vapory matter of which the tails are made. But the how and the

wherefore of this strange seeming repulsion they can not explain. For

at the selfsame time the sun appears to be attracting the comet towards

himself, and driving the comet’s tail away from himself.

A few of the more well-known comets have been mentioned; but a year

rarely passes in which at least one comet is not discovered, though

often only a small specimen, sometimes even tailless and hairless. No

doubt many others pass unseen. The large and grand ones only come to

view now and then.

What are comets and meteorites made of? Respecting comets, a good

many ideas are put forth, and a good many guesses are made, as to

“burning gas,” “luminous vapor,” “beams of light,” and so on. But in

truth, little is known about the matter. Respecting meteorites, we can

speak more certainly. A good many meteorites have fallen to earth as

aerolites, and have been carefully examined. They are found to contain

nickel, cobalt, iron, phosphorus, and sometimes at least, a large

supply of hydrogen gas.

Not only do solid aerolites fall half-burnt to the ground, but even

when the meteorites are quite consumed in the air, the fine dust

remaining still sinks earthward. This fine dust has been found upon

mountain-tops, and has been proved by close examination to be precisely

the same as the material of the solid aerolites.

A luminous body of sensible dimensions rapidly traverses space,

diffusing on all sides a vivid light--like a globe of fire of which

the apparent size is often comparable with that of the moon. This

body usually leaves behind it a perceptible luminous train. On or

immediately after its appearance it often produces an explosion, and

sometimes even several successive explosions, which are heard at great

distances. These explosions are also often accompanied by the division

of the globe of fire into luminous fragments, more or less numerous,

which seem to be projected in different directions. This phenomenon

constitutes what is called a _meteor_, properly speaking, or a

_bolide_. It is produced during the day as well as the night. The light

which it causes in the former case is greatly enfeebled by the presence

of the solar light, and it is only when it is developed with sufficient

intensity that it can be perceived.

In the British Museum there is a superb collection of meteorites. They

have been brought together from all parts of the earth, and vary in

size from bodies not much larger than a pin’s-head up to vast masses

weighing many hundred pounds. There are also many models of celebrated

meteorites, of which the originals are dispersed through various other

museums.

Many of these objects have nothing very remarkable in their external

appearance. If they were met with on the sea-beach, they would be

passed by without more notice than would be given to any other stone.

Yet what a history such a stone might tell us if we could only manage

to obtain it! It fell; it was seen to fall from the sky; but what

was its course anterior to that movement? Where was it one hundred

years ago, one thousand years ago? Through what regions of space has

it wandered? Why did it never fall before? Why has it actually now

fallen? Such are some of the questions which crowd upon us as we

ponder over these most interesting bodies. Some of these objects are

composed of very characteristic materials. Take, for example, one of

the more recent meteorites, known as the Rowton siderite. This body

differs very much from the more ordinary kind of stony meteorite. It

is an object which even a casual passer-by would hardly pass without

notice. Its great weight would also attract attention, while if it be

scratched or rubbed with a file, it would be found that it was not in

any sense a stone, but that it was a mass of nearly pure iron. We know

the circumstances under which that piece of iron fell to the earth.

It was on the 20th of April, 1876, about 3.40 P. M., that a strange

rumbling noise, followed by a startling explosion, was heard over an

area of several miles in extent among the villages in Shropshire. About

an hour after this occurrence, a farmer noticed the ground in one of

his grass-fields to have been disturbed, and he probed the hole which

the meteorite had made, and found it, still warm, about eighteen inches

below the surface. Some men working at no great distance had actually

heard the noise of its descent, but without being able to indicate

the exact locality. This remarkable object weighs 7¾ pounds. It is an

irregular angular mass of iron, though all its edges seem to have been

rounded by fusion in its transit through the air, and it is covered

with a thick black film of the magnetic oxide of iron, except at the

point where it first struck the ground.

This siderite is specially interesting on account of its distinctly

metallic character. Falls of the siderites, as they are called, are not

so common as those of the stony meteorites; in fact, there are only

a few known instances of meteoric irons having been actually seen to

fall, while the falls of stony meteorites are to be counted in scores

or in hundreds. The inference is that the iron meteorites are much less

frequent than the stony ones.

It is a wonderful thought that we should really have these visitants

from the sky, solid metal or showers of dust, coming to us from distant

space.

If the dust of thousands of meteorites is always thus falling

earthward, one would imagine that it must in time add something to the

weight of the earth. And this actually is the case. During the last

three thousand years, no less than one million tons of meteorite-dust

must, according to calculation, have fallen to earth out of the sky. A

million tons is of course a mere nothing compared with the size of the

world. Still, the fact is curious and interesting.

It has been suggested that, _perhaps_ the flames of the sun are partly

fed by vast showers of falling meteorites. It has even been suggested

that _perhaps_, in long past ages, the earth and the planets grew to

their present size under a tremendous downpour of meteorites; the

numbers which now drop to earth being merely the thin remains of what

once existed. But for this guess there is no real foundation.

Whether suns and worlds full-grown, created as in an instant;

whether tiny meteorites in countless myriads to be used as stones in

“building;” whether vast masses of flaming gas, to be gradually cooled

and “framed” into shape--which ever may have come first, and whichever

may have been the order of God’s working--still that “first” was made

by him; still he throughout was the Master-builder.

[Illustration: GREAT COMET OF 1680.]

A few words more about “comet-visitors.” Many comets, as already

stated, belong to our Solar System, though whether they have always so

belonged is another question. It is not impossible that they may once

upon a time have wandered hence from a vast distance, and, being caught

prisoner by the powerful attraction of Jupiter or one of his three

great brother-planets, have been compelled thenceforth to travel in a

closed pathway round the sun.

[Illustration: GREAT COMET OF 1769.]

There are also many comets which come once only to our system, flashing

round past the sun, and rushing away in quite another direction, never

to return. Where do these comets come from? And where do they go? From

other suns--brother suns to ours? It may be. One is almost disposed to

think that it must be so.

Do we ever think what an immense voyage they must have made to come

from there to here? Do we imagine for how many years they must have

flown through the dark immensity to plunge themselves into the fires

of our sun? If we take into account the directions from which certain

comets come to us, and if we assign to the stars situated in that

region the least distances consistent with known facts, we find that

these comets certainly left their last star more than _twenty millions

of years ago_.

In thus putting to us from the height of their celestial apparitions

so many notes of interrogation on the grandest problems of creation,

comets assume to our eyes an interest incomparably greater than that

with which superstition blindly surrounded them in past ages. When we

reflect for a moment that a certain comet which shines before us in

the sky came originally from the depths of the heavens, that it has

traveled during millions of years to arrive here, and that consequently

it is by millions of years that we must reckon its age if we wish to

form any idea of it, we can not refrain from respecting this strange

visitor as a witness of vanished eras, as an echo of the past, as

the most ancient testimony which we have of the existence of matter.

But what do we say? These bodies are neither old nor young. There

is nothing old, nothing new--all is present. The ages of the past

contemplate the ages of the future, which all work, all gravitate, all

circulate, in the eternal plan. Musing, you look at the river which

flows so gently at your feet, and you believe you see again the river

of your childhood; but the water of to-day is not that of yesterday, it

is not the same substance which you have before your eyes, and never,

never shall this union of molecules, which you behold at this moment,

come back there--never till the consummation of the ages!

If the appearance of comets forebodes absolutely nothing as to the

microscopical events of our ephemeral human history, it is not the same

with the effects which might be produced by their encounter with our

wandering planet. In such an encounter there is nothing impossible. No

law of celestial mechanics forbids that two bodies should come into

collision in their course, be broken up, pulverized, and mutually

reduced to vapor.

I have before described some of the tremendous outbursts seen on the

surface of our sun. It is believed that in these outbursts matter is

expelled, or driven forth, with such fearful violence as to send it

whirling through space, never to fall back to the sun.

Some meteorites may have their births thus. So also may some comets.

And if all the stars are suns--huge fiery globes like our sun, and

subject like him to tremendous eruptions--they too, probably, send out

comets and meteorites to wander through space. Whether or no comets

come into existence in any such manner, one thing seems pretty certain.

Those comets which come to us from outside our system must come from

some other system. And the nearest systems known are those of the stars.

The nearest star of all, whose distance has been measured, is Alpha

Centauri. It has been roughly calculated that a comet, passing direct

from Alpha Centauri to our sun, would take about twenty millions of

years for his journey. But here we tread upon very doubtful ground.

Many matters, at present unknown to us, might greatly affect the result

of such a calculation. Also it is by no means impossible that other

stars lie really much nearer to us than Alpha Centauri, whose distance

astronomers have not yet attempted to measure.

[Illustration: BARON ALEXANDER VON HUMBOLDT.]

“In order to complete our view,” says Alexander Von Humboldt, “of all

that we have learned to consider as appertaining to our Solar System,

which now, since the discovery of the small planets, of the interior

comets of short revolutions, and of the meteoric asteroids, is so rich

and complicated in its form, it remains for us to speak of the ring

of zodiacal light. Those who have lived for many years in the zone of

palms must retain a pleasing impression of the mild radiance with which

the zodiacal light, shooting pyramidally upward, illumines a part of

the uniform length of tropical nights. I have seen it shine with an

intensity of light equal to the Milky Way in Saggitarius, and that not

only in the rare and dry atmosphere of the summit of the Andes, at an

elevation of from thirteen to fifteen thousand feet, but even on the

boundless grassy plains of Venezuela, and on the seashore, beneath the

ever-clear sky of Cumana. This phenomenon was often rendered especially

beautiful by the passage of light, fleecy clouds, which stood out in

picturesque and bold relief from the luminous background.

“This phenomenon, whose primordial antiquity can scarcely be doubted,

is not the luminous solar atmosphere itself, which can not be diffused

beyond nine-tenths of the distance of Mercury. With much probability we

may regard the existence of a very compressed ring of nebulous matter,

revolving freely in space around the sun between the orbits of Venus

and Mars, as the material cause of the zodiacal light. These nebulous

particles may either be self-luminous or receive their light from the

sun.

“I have occasionally been astonished, in the tropical climates of

South America, to observe the variable intensity of the zodiacal

light. As I passed the nights, during many months, in the open air,

on the shores of rivers and on plains, I enjoyed ample opportunities

of carefully examining this phenomenon. When the zodiacal light had

been most intense, I have observed that it would be weakened for a

few minutes, until it again suddenly shone forth in full brilliancy.

In a few instances I have thought I could perceive, not exactly a

reddish coloration, nor the lower portion darkened in an arc-like

form, nor even a scintillation, but a kind of flickering and wavering

of the light. Must we suppose that changes are actually in progress

in the nebulous ring? Or is it not more probable that processes of

condensation may be going on in the uppermost strata of the air,

by means of which the transparency--or, rather, the reflection of

light--may be modified in some peculiar and unknown manner? An

assumption of the existence of such meteorological causes on the

confines of our atmosphere is strengthened by the sudden flash and

pulsations of light which have been observed to vibrate for several

seconds through the tail of a comet. During the continuation of these

pulsations it has been noticed that the comet’s tail was lengthened by

several degrees, and then again contracted.”

The story of the sun, moon, and stars · 第 21 / 33 章