LIKE JUPITER.
Yes! Like Jupiter.
At the time of that memorable meeting in honour of Michel Ardan—so
appropriately mentioned by the orator—if J. T. Maston had excitedly
exclaimed, “Let us right the Earth’s axis,” it was because the daring
and fantastical Frenchman, one of the heroes of the Moon Voyage, had
chanted his dithyrambic hymn in honour of the most important planets of
our solar system. In his superb panegyric he had celebrated the special
advantages of the giant planet, as we briefly reported at the time.
The problem solved by the calculator of the Gun Club was the
substitution of a new axis of rotation for the old one on which the
Earth had turned ever since in popular phrase, “the world was a world.”
This new axis of rotation would be perpendicular to the plane of its
orbit; and under such conditions the climatal situation of the old Pole
would be much the same as that of Trondhjem, in Norway, in spring-time.
The palæocrystic armour would thus naturally melt under the rays of the
Sun; and at the same time climate would be distributed over the Earth as
the climates are distributed in Jupiter.
The inclination of our planet’s axis, or in other terms, the angle which
its axis of rotation makes with the plane of its ecliptic is 66° 32′. A
few degrees would thus bring the axis perpendicular to the plane of the
orbit it describes round the Sun.
But—it is important to remark—the effort that the North Polar Practical
Association was about to make would not, strictly speaking, right the
Earth’s axis. Mechanically, no force, however considerable, could
accomplish that. The Earth is not like a chicken on a spit, that we can
take it in our hand and shift it as we will. But the making of a new
axis was possible—it may be said easy—if the engineers only had the
fulcrum dreamt of by Archimedes and the lever imagined by J. T. Maston.
But as it had been decided to keep the invention a secret until further
orders, all that could be done was to study the consequences. And to
begin with, the journals and reviews of all sorts appealing to the
learned and the ignorant devoted themselves to considering how Jupiter
was affected by the approximate perpendicularity of his axis to the
plane of his orbit.
Jupiter, like Mercury, Venus, the Earth, Mars, Saturn, Uranus, and
Neptune, forms part of the solar system, and sweeps round at nearly five
hundred million miles from the central fire; and his volume is about
fourteen times that of the Earth.
If there be such a thing as Jovian life, that is to say, if there are
any inhabitants on Jupiter, the following are the advantages they obtain
by living on the great planet—advantages so poetically brought into
relief at the memorable meeting above alluded to.
In the first place, during the diurnal rotation of Jupiter, which
occupies nine hours, fifty-five minutes, the days are always equal to
the nights in all latitudes; that is to say, the Jovian day is four
hours, fifty-seven minutes long, and the Jovian night lasts also four
hours and fifty-seven minutes.
“There,” said the admirers of Jovian existence, “you have something
suited to people of regular habits. They will be delighted to submit to
such regularity.”
That is what would happen to the Earth if Barbicane did what he
promised, only as the new axis would make no difference in the time of
rotation, twenty-four hours would still separate the successive noons,
and our spheroid would be blessed with nights and days each twelve hours
long, and we should live in a perpetual equinox.
“But the climatal phenomena would be much more curious; and no less
interesting,” said the enthusiasts, “would be the absence of the
seasons.”
Owing to the inclination of the axis to the plane of the orbit, we have
the annual changes known as spring, summer, autumn, and winter. The
Jovians could know nothing of these things, and the Terrestrians would
know them no more. The moment the new axis became perpendicular to the
ecliptic there would be neither frigid zones nor torrid zones, but the
whole Earth would rejoice in a temperate climate.
Why was this?
What is the Torrid zone? It is that part of the Earth comprised between
the Tropics of Cancer and Capricorn. Every place within this zone has
the Sun in the zenith twice a year.
What are the Temperate zones? The part comprised between the Tropics and
the Polar circles; between 23° 28′ and 66° 32′ of latitude, and in which
the Sun never rises to the zenith, but is above the horizon on every day
in the year.
What are the Frigid zones? That part of the circumpolar regions in which
the Sun does not rise above the horizon on every day in the year; while
at the Pole itself he does not rise for six months at a time.
The height of the Sun above the horizon is the cause of the excessive
heat of the Torrid zone, the moderate heat of the Temperate zone, and
the excessive cold within the Polar circles.
When the axis became perpendicular these things would be different. The
Sun would remain on the plane of the Equator. All the year round he
would pursue his imperturbable twelve-hour course, and rise to a
distance from the zenith according to the latitude of the place. In
countries of twenty degrees of latitude he would rise seventy degrees
above the horizon; in countries of forty-nine degrees of latitude he
would rise forty-one; in places of eighty-four degrees he would rise
six, and of ninety degrees (the Pole), he would just peep half his
diameter above the horizon. The days would be perfectly regular, and the
Sun would rise at the same time, and also at the same point on the
horizon, throughout the year.
“Look at the advantages!” said the friends of Barbicane. “Every man,
according to his temperament, can choose his own climate, which will be
invariable!”
Those modern Titans, the North Polar Practical Association, were going
to effect a complete change in the state of things which had existed
ever since the spheroid had been launched on its orbit to become the
Earth as we know it.
The astronomer might lose a few of the familiar constellations; the poet
might lose the long winter nights and the long summer days that figure
so frequently in modern verse; but what of that when we think of the
advantages that would be enjoyed by the majority of the human race?
As the newspapers in the Barbicane interest pointed out, the products of
the Earth being reduced to regularity, the farmer could always plant and
sow in the most favourable temperature.
“Be it so!” said the opposition. “But are we to have no rains, or hail,
or storms, or waterspouts, or other odds and ends that make matters
pleasant for the depressed agriculturist?”
“You may have them, of course,” said the Barbicanians, “but they will
probably be rarer, owing to the regularity of the climate having its
effect on the troubles of the atmosphere! Yes, humanity will profit
greatly by the new state of things. It will be quite a transformation of
the terrestrial globe. Barbicane & Co. will have conferred much good on
the present and future generations by destroying the inequality of the
days and nights and the irritating diversity of the seasons!”
And the _New York Sun_ of the 27th of December concluded one of its most
eloquent articles:—
“Honour to Impey Barbicane and his colleagues! Not only will they have
made the Earth more hygienically habitable, but they will have made it
more productive; for then we can sow as soon as we have harvested, for
no time will be wasted over the winter. Not only will our coal supplies
be increased by the new fields, which will insure a supply for many long
years, but the climatal conditions will be altered to our great
advantage! Honour, then, to Barbicane & Co., who will take the first
rank among the benefactors of mankind!”