I shall conclude what I have to say at present, respecting the motion of the earth around the sun, by adding a few words respecting the precession of the equinoxes.
The _precession of the equinoxes_ is a slow but continual shifting of the equinoctial points, from east to west. Suppose that we mark the exact place in the heavens where, during the present year, the sun crosses the equator, and that this point is close to a certain star; next year, the sun will cross the equator a little way westward of that star, and so every year, a little further westward, until, in a long course of ages, the place of the equinox will occupy successively every part of the ecliptic, until we come round to the same star again. As, therefore, the sun revolving from west to east, in his apparent orbit, comes round to the point where it left the equinox, it meets the equinox before it reaches that point. The appearance is as though the equinox _goes forward_ to meet the sun, and hence the phenomenon is called the _precession_ of the equinoxes; and the fact is expressed by saying, that the equinoxes retrograde on the ecliptic, until the line of the equinoxes (a straight line drawn from one equinox to the other) makes a complete revolution, from east to west. This is of course a retrograde motion, since it is contrary to the order of the signs. The equator is conceived as _sliding_ westward on the ecliptic, always preserving the same inclination to it, as a ring, placed at a small angle with another of nearly the same size which remains fixed, may be slid quite around it, giving a corresponding motion to the two points of intersection. It must be observed, however, that this mode of conceiving of the precession of the equinoxes is purely imaginary, and is employed merely for the convenience of representation.
The amount of precession annually is fifty seconds and one tenth; whence, since there are thirty-six hundred seconds in a degree, and three hundred and sixty degrees in the whole circ.u.mference of the ecliptic, and consequently one million two hundred and ninety-six thousand seconds, this sum, divided by fifty seconds and one tenth, gives twenty-five thousand eight hundred and sixty-eight years for the period of a complete revolution of the equinoxes.
Suppose we now fix to the centre of each of the two rings, before mentioned, a wire representing its axis, one corresponding to the axis of the ecliptic, the other to that of the equator, the extremity of each being the pole of its circle. As the ring denoting the equator turns round on the ecliptic, which, with its axis, remains fixed, it is easy to conceive that the axis of the equator revolves around that of the ecliptic, and the pole of the equator around the pole of the ecliptic, and constantly at a distance equal to the inclination of the two circles. To transfer our conceptions to the celestial sphere, we may easily see that the axis of the diurnal sphere (that of the earth produced) would not have its pole constantly in the same place among the stars, but that this pole would perform a slow revolution around the pole of the ecliptic, from east to west, completing the circuit in about twenty-six thousand years. Hence the star which we now call the pole-star has not always enjoyed that distinction, nor will it always enjoy it, hereafter. When the earliest catalogues of the stars were made, this star was twelve degrees from the pole. It is now one degree twenty-four minutes, and will approach still nearer; or, to speak more accurately, the pole will come still nearer to this star, after which it will leave it, and successively pa.s.s by others. In about thirteen thousand years, the bright star Lyra (which lies near the circle in which the pole of the equator revolves about the pole of the ecliptic, on the side opposite to the present pole-star) will be within five degrees of the pole, and will const.i.tute the pole-star. As Lyra now pa.s.ses near our zenith, you might suppose that the change of position of the pole among the stars would be attended with a change of alt.i.tude of the north pole above the horizon. This mistaken idea is one of the many misapprehensions which result from the habit of considering the horizon as a fixed circle in s.p.a.ce. However the pole might shift its position in s.p.a.ce, we should still be at the same distance from it, and our horizon would always reach the same distance beyond it.
The time occupied by the sun, in pa.s.sing from the equinoctial point round to the same point again, is called the _tropical year_. As the sun does not perform a complete revolution in this interval, but falls short of it fifty seconds and one tenth, the tropical year is shorter than the sidereal by twenty minutes and twenty seconds, in mean solar time, this being the time of describing an arc of fifty seconds and one tenth, in the annual revolution.
The changes produced by the precession of the equinoxes, in the apparent places of the circ.u.mpolar stars, have led to some interesting results in _chronology_. In consequence of the retrograde motion of the equinoctial points, the _signs_ of the ecliptic do not correspond, at present, to the _constellations_ which bear the same names, but lie about one sign, or thirty degrees, westward of them. Thus, that division of the ecliptic which is called the sign Taurus lies in the constellation Aries, and the sign Gemini, in the constellation Taurus. Undoubtedly, however, when the ecliptic was thus first divided, and the divisions named, the several constellations lay in the respective divisions which bear their names.
LETTER XV.
THE MOON.
"Soon as the evening shades prevail The Moon takes up the wondrous tale, And nightly to the listening earth Repeats the story of her birth."--_Addison._
HAVING now learned so much of astronomy as relates to the earth and the sun, and the mutual relations which exist between them, you are prepared to enter with advantage upon the survey of the other bodies that compose the solar system. This being done, we shall then have still before us the boundless range of the fixed stars.
The moon, which next claims our notice, has been studied by astronomers with greater attention than any other of the heavenly bodies, since her comparative nearness to the earth brings her peculiarly within the range of our telescopes, and her periodical changes and very irregular motions, afford curious subjects, both for observation and speculation.
The mild light of the moon also invites our gaze, while her varying aspects serve barbarous tribes, especially, for a kind of dial-plate inscribed on the face of the sky, for weeks, and months, and times, and seasons.
The moon is distant from the earth about two hundred and forty thousand miles; or, more exactly, two hundred and thirty-eight thousand five hundred and forty-five miles. Her angular or apparent diameter is about half a degree, and her real diameter, two thousand one hundred and sixty miles. She is a companion, or satellite, to the earth, revolving around it every month, and accompanying us in our annual revolution around the sun. Although her nearness to us makes her appear as a large and conspicuous object in the heavens, yet, in comparison with most of the other celestial bodies, she is in fact very small, being only one forty-ninth part as large as the earth, and only about one seventy millionth part as large as the sun.
The moon shines by light borrowed from the sun, being itself an opaque body, like the earth. When the disk, or any portion of it, is illuminated, we can plainly discern, even with the naked eye, varieties of light and shade, indicating inequalities of surface which we imagine to be land and water. I believe it is the common impression, that the darker portions are land and the lighter portions water; but if either part is water, it must be the darker regions. A smooth polished surface, like water, would reflect the sun"s light like a mirror. It would, like a convex mirror, form a diminished image of the sun, but would not itself appear luminous like an uneven surface, which multiplies the light by numerous reflections within itself. Thus, from this cause, high broken mountainous districts appear more luminous than extensive plains.
[Ill.u.s.tration Figures 36, 37. TELESCOPIC VIEWS OF THE MOON.]
By the aid of the telescope, we may see undoubted indications of mountains and valleys. Indeed, with a good gla.s.s, we can discover the most decisive evidence that the surface of the moon is exceedingly varied,--one part ascending in lofty peaks, another cl.u.s.tering in huge mountain groups, or long ranges, and another bearing all the marks of deep caverns or valleys. You will not, indeed, at the first sight of the moon through a telescope, recognise all these different objects. If you look at the moon when half her disk is enlightened, (which is the best time for seeing her varieties of surface,) you will, at the first glance, observe a motley appearance, particularly along the line called the _terminator_, which separates the enlightened from the unenlightened part of the disk. (Fig. 37.) On one side of the terminator, within the dark part of the disk, you will see illuminated points, and short, crooked lines, like rude characters marked with chalk on a black ground.
On the other side of the terminator you will see a succession of little circular groups, appearing like numerous bubbles of oil on the surface of water. The further you carry your eye from the terminator, on the same side of it, the more indistinctly formed these bubbles appear, until towards the edge of the moon they a.s.sume quite a different aspect.
Some persons, when they look into a telescope for the first time, having heard that mountains and valleys are to be seen, and discovering nothing but these unmeaning figures, break off in disappointment, and have their faith in these things rather diminished than increased. I would advise you, therefore, before you take even your first view of the moon through a telescope, to form as clear an idea as you can, how mountains, and valleys, and caverns, situated at such a distance from the eye, ought to look, and by what marks they may be recognised. Seize, if possible, the most favorable period, (about the time of the first quarter,) and previously learn from drawings and explanations, how to interpret every thing you see.
What, then, ought to be the respective appearances of mountains, valleys, and deep craters, or caverns, in the moon? The sun shines on the moon in the same way as it shines on the earth; and let, us reflect, then, upon the manner in which it strikes similar objects here. One half the globe is constantly enlightened; and, by the revolution of the earth on its axis, the terminator, or the line which separates the enlightened from the unenlightened part of the earth, travels along from east to west, over different places, as we see the moon"s terminator travel over her disk from new to full moon; although, in the case of the earth, the motion is more rapid, and depends on a different cause. In the morning, the sun"s light first strikes upon the tops of the mountains, and, if they are very high, they may be brightly illuminated while it is yet night in the valleys below. By degrees, as the sun rises, the circle of illumination travels down the mountain, until at length it reaches the bottom of the valleys; and these in turn enjoy the full light of day. Again, a mountain casts a shadow opposite to the sun, which is very long when the sun first rises, and shortens continually as the sun ascends, its length at a given time, however, being proportioned to the height of the mountain; so that, if the shadow be still very long when the sun is far above the horizon, we infer that the mountain is very lofty. We may, moreover, form some judgment of the shape of a mountain, by observing that of its shadow.
Now, the moon is so distant that we could not easily distinguish places simply by their elevations, since they would be projected into the same imaginary plane which const.i.tutes the apparent disk of the moon; but the foregoing considerations would enable us to infer their existence. Thus, when you view the moon at any time within her first quarter, but better near the end of that period, you will observe, on the side of the terminator within the dark part of the disk, the tops of mountains which the light of the sun is just striking, as the morning sun strikes the tops of mountains on the earth. These you will recognise by those white specks and little crooked lines, before mentioned, as is represented in Fig. 37. These bright points and lines you will see altering their figure, every hour, as they come more and more into the sun"s light; and, mean-while, other bright points, very minute at first, will start into view, which also in turn grow larger as the terminator approaches them, until they fall into the enlightened part of the disk. As they fall further and further within this part, you will have additional proofs that they are mountains, from the shadows which they cast on the plain, always in a direction opposite to the sun. The mountain itself may entirely disappear, or become confounded with the other enlightened portions of the surface; but its position and its shape may still be recognised by the dark line which it projects on the plane. This line will correspond in shape to that of the mountain, presenting at one time a long serpentine stripe of black, denoting that the mountain is a continued range; at another time exhibiting a conical figure tapering to a point, or a series of such sharp points; or a serrated, uneven termination, indicating, in each case respectively, a conical mountain, or a group of peaks, or a range with lofty cliffs. All these appearances will indeed be seen in miniature; but a little familiarity with them will enable you to give them, in imagination, their proper dimensions, as you give to the pictures of known animals their due sizes, although drawn on a scale far below that of real life.
In the next place, let us see how valleys and deep craters in the moon might be expected to appear. We could not expect to see depressions any more than elevations, since both would alike be projected on the same imaginary disk. But we may recognise such depressions, from the manner in which the light of the sun shines into them. When we hold a china tea-cup at some distance from a candle, in the night, the candle being elevated but little above the level of the top of the cup, a luminous crescent will be formed on the side of the cup opposite to the candle, while the side next to the candle will be covered by a deep shadow. As we gradually elevate the candle, the crescent enlarges and travels down the side of the cup, until finally the whole interior becomes illuminated. We observe similar appearances in the moon, which we recognise as deep depressions. They are those circular spots near the terminator before spoken of, which look like bubbles of oil floating on water. They are nothing else than circular craters or deep valleys. When they are so situated that the light of the sun is just beginning to shine into them, you may see, as in the tea-cup, a luminous crescent around the side furthest from the sun, while a deep black shadow is cast on the side next to the sun. As the cavity is turned more and more towards the light, the crescent enlarges, until at length the whole interior is illuminated. If the tea-cup be placed on a table, and a candle be held at some distance from it, nearly on a level with the top, but a little above it, the cup itself will cast a shadow on the table, like any other elevated object. In like manner, many of these circular spots on the moon cast deep shadows behind them, indicating that the tops of the craters are elevated far above the general level of the moon. The regularity of some of these circular spots is very remarkable.
The circle, in some instances, appears as well formed as could be described by a pair of compa.s.ses, while in the centre there not unfrequently is seen a conical mountain casting its pointed shadow on the bottom of the crater. I hope you will enjoy repeated opportunities to view the moon through a telescope. Allow me to recommend to you, not to rest satisfied with a hasty or even with a single view, but to verify the preceding remarks by repeated and careful inspection of the lunar disk, at different ages of the moon.
The various places on the moon"s disk have received appropriate names.
The dusky regions being formerly supposed to be seas, were named accordingly; and other remarkable places have each two names, one derived from some well-known spot on the earth, and the other from some distinguished personage. Thus, the same bright spot on the surface of the moon is called _Mount Sinai_ or _Tycho_, and another, _Mount Etna_ or _Copernicus_. The names of individuals, however, are more used than the others. The diagram, Fig. 36, (see page 159,) represents rudely, the telescopic appearance of the full moon. The reality is far more beautiful. A few of the most remarkable points have the following names corresponding to the numbers and letters on the map.
1. Tycho, 6. Eratosthenes, 2. Kepler, 7. Plato, 3. Copernicus, 8. Archimedes, 4. Aristarchus, 9. Eudoxus, 5. Helicon, 10. Aristotle.
A. Mare Humorum, _Sea of Humors_, B. Mare Nubium, _Sea of Clouds_, C. Mare Imbrium, _Sea of Rains_, D. Mare Nectaris, _Sea of Nectar_, E. Mare Tranquillitatis, _Sea of Tranquillity_, F. Mare Serenitatis, _Sea of Serenity_, G. Mare Fecunditatis, _Sea of Plenty_, H. Mare Crisium, _Crisian Sea_.
The heights of the lunar mountains, and the depths of the valleys, can be estimated with a considerable degree of accuracy. Some of the mountains are as high as five miles, and the valleys, in some instances, are four miles deep. Hence it is inferred, that the surface of the moon is more broken and irregular than that of the earth, its mountains being higher and its valleys deeper, in proportion to its magnitude, than those of the earth.
The varieties of surface in the moon, as seen by the aid of large telescopes, have been well described by Dr. d.i.c.k, in his "Celestial Scenery," and I cannot give you a better idea of them, than to add a few extracts from his work. The lunar mountains in general exhibit an arrangement and an aspect very different from the mountain scenery of our globe. They may be arranged under the four following varieties:
First, _insulated mountains_, which rise from plains nearly level, shaped like a sugar loaf, which may be supposed to present an appearance somewhat similar to Mount Etna, or the Peak of Teneriffe. The shadows of these mountains, in certain phases of the moon, are as distinctly perceived as the shadow of an upright staff, when placed opposite to the sun; and these heights can be calculated from the length of their shadows. Some of these mountains being elevated in the midst of extensive plains, would present to a spectator on their summits magnificent views of the surrounding regions.
Secondly, _mountain ranges_, extending in length two or three hundred miles. These ranges bear a distant resemblance to our Alps, Apennines, and Andes; but they are much less in extent. Some of them appear very rugged and precipitous; and the highest ranges are in some places more than four miles in perpendicular alt.i.tude. In some instances, they are nearly in a straight line from northeast to southwest, as in the range called the _Apennines_; in other cases, they a.s.sume the form of a semicircle, or crescent.
Thirdly, _circular ranges_, which appear on almost every part of the moon"s surface, particularly in its southern regions. This is one grand peculiarity of the lunar ranges, to which we have nothing similar on the earth. A plain, and sometimes a large cavity, is surrounded with a circular ridge of mountains, which encompa.s.ses it like a mighty rampart.
These annular ridges and plains are of all dimensions, from a mile to forty or fifty miles in diameter, and are to be seen in great numbers over every region of the moon"s surface; they are most conspicuous, however, near the upper and lower limbs, about the time of the half moon.
The mountains which form these circular ridges are of different elevations, from one fifth of a mile to three miles and a half, and their shadows cover one half of the plain at the base. These plains are sometimes on a level with the general surface of the moon, and in other cases they are sunk a mile or more below the level of the ground which surrounds the exterior circle of the mountains.
Fourthly, _central mountains_, or those which are placed in the middle of circular plains. In many of the plains and cavities surrounded by circular ranges of mountains there stands a single insulated mountain, which rises from the centre of the plain, and whose shadow sometimes extends, in the form of a pyramid, half across the plain to the opposite ridges. These central mountains are generally from half a mile to a mile and a half in perpendicular alt.i.tude. In some instances, they have two, and sometimes three, different tops, whose shadows can be easily distinguished from each other. Sometimes they are situated towards one side of the plain, or cavity; but in the great majority of instances their position is nearly or exactly central. The lengths of their bases vary from five to about fifteen or sixteen miles.
The _lunar caverns_ form a very peculiar and prominent feature of the moon"s surface, and are to be seen throughout almost every region, but are most numerous in the southwest part of the moon. Nearly a hundred of them, great and small, may be distinguished in that quarter. They are all nearly of a circular shape, and appear like a very shallow egg-cup.
The smaller cavities appear, within, almost like a hollow cone, with the sides tapering towards the centre; but the larger ones have, for the most part, flat bottoms, from the centre of which there frequently rises a small, steep, conical hill, which gives them a resemblance to the circular ridges and central mountains before described. In some instances, their margins are level with the general surface of the moon; but, in most cases, they are encircled with a high annular ridge of mountains, marked with lofty peaks. Some of the larger of these cavities contain smaller cavities of the same kind and form, particularly in their sides. The mountainous ridges which surround these cavities reflect the greatest quant.i.ty of light; and hence that region of the moon in which they abound appears brighter than any other. From their lying in every possible direction, they appear, at and near the time of full moon, like a number of brilliant streaks, or radiations. These radiations appear to converge towards a large brilliant spot, surrounded by a faint shade, near the lower part of the moon, which is named Tycho,--a spot easily distinguished even by a small telescope. The spots named Kepler and Copernicus are each composed of a central spot with luminous radiations.[8]
The broken surface and apparent geological structure of the moon has suggested the opinion, that the moon has been subject to powerful _volcanic_ action. This opinion receives support from certain actual appearances of volcanic fires, which have at different times been observed. In a total eclipse of the sun, the moon comes directly between us and that luminary, and presents her dark side towards us under circ.u.mstances very favorable for observation. At such times, several astronomers, at different periods, have noticed bright spots, which they took to be volcanoes. It must evidently require a large fire to be visible at all, at such a distance; and even a burning spark, or point but just visible in a large telescope, might be in fact a volcano raging like Etna or Vesuvius. Still, as fires might be supposed to exist in the moon from different causes, we should require some marks peculiar to volcanic fires, to a.s.sure us that such was their origin in a given case.
Dr. Herschel examined this point with great attention, and with better means of observation than any of his predecessors enjoyed, and fully embraced the opinion that what he saw were volcanoes. In April, 1787, he records his observations as follows: "I perceive three volcanoes in different places in the dark part of the moon. Two of them are already nearly extinct, or otherwise in a state of going to break out; the third shows an eruption of fire or luminous matter." On the next night, he says: "The volcano burns with greater violence than last night; its diameter cannot be less than three seconds; and hence the shining or burning matter must be above three miles in diameter. The appearance resembles a small piece of burning charcoal, when it is covered with a very thin coat of white ashes; and it has a degree of brightness about as strong as that with which such a coal would be seen to glow in faint daylight." That these were really volcanic fires, he considered further evident from the fact, that where a fire, supposed to have been volcanic, had been burning, there was seen, after its extinction, an acc.u.mulation of matter, such as would arise from the production of a great quant.i.ty of lava, sufficient to form a mountain.
It is probable that the moon has an _atmosphere_, although it is difficult to obtain perfectly satisfactory evidence of its existence; for granting the existence of an atmosphere bearing the same proportion to that planet as our atmosphere bears to the earth, its dimensions and its density would be so small, that we could detect its presence only by the most refined observations. As our twilight is owing to the agency of our atmosphere, so, could we discern any appearance of twilight in the moon, we should regard that fact as indicating that she is surrounded by an atmosphere. Or, when the moon covers the sun in a solar eclipse, could we see around her circ.u.mference a faint luminous ring, indicating that the sunlight shone through an aerial medium, we might likewise infer the existence of such a medium. Such a faint ring of light has sometimes, as is supposed, been observed. Schroeter, a German astronomer, distinguished for the acuteness of his vision and his powers of observation in general, was very confident of having obtained, from different sources, clear evidence of a lunar atmosphere. He concluded, that the inferior or more dense part of the moon"s atmosphere is not more than fifteen hundred feet high, and that the entire height, at least to the limit where it would be too rare to produce any of the phenomena which are relied on as proofs of its existence, is not more than a mile.
It has been a question, much agitated among astronomers, whether there is _water_ in the moon. a.n.a.logy strongly inclines us to reply in the affirmative. But the a.n.a.logy between the earth and the moon, as derived from all the particulars in which we can compare the two bodies, is too feeble to warrant such a conclusion, and we must have recourse to other evidence, before we can decide the point. In the first place, then, there is no positive evidence in favor of the existence of water in the moon. Those extensive level regions, before spoken of, and denominated seas in the geography of this planet, have no other signs of being water, except that they are level and dark. But both these particulars would characterize an earthly plain, like the deserts of Arabia and Africa. In the second place, were those dark regions composed of water, the terminator would be entirely smooth where it pa.s.sed over these oceans or seas. It is indeed indented by few inequalities, compared with those which it exhibits where it pa.s.ses over the mountainous regions; but still, the inequalities are too considerable to permit the conclusion, that these level spots are such perfect levels as water would form. They do not appear to be more perfect levels than many plain countries on the globe. The deep caverns, moreover, seen in those dusky spots which were supposed to be seas, are unfavorable to the supposition that those regions are covered by water. In the third place, the face of the moon, when illuminated by the sun and not obscured by the state of our own atmosphere, is always serene, and therefore free from clouds.
Clouds are objects of great extent; they frequently intercept light, like solid bodies; and did they exist about the moon, we should certainly see them, and should lose sight of certain parts of the lunar disk which they covered. But neither position is true; we neither see any clouds about the moon, with our best telescopes, nor do we, by the intervention of clouds, ever lose sight of any portion of the moon when our own atmosphere is clear. But the want of clouds in the lunar atmosphere almost necessarily implies the absence of water in the moon.
This planet is at the same distance from the sun as our own, and has, in this respect, an equal opportunity to feel the influence of his rays.
Its days are also twenty-seven times as long as ours, a circ.u.mstance which would augment the solar heat. When the pressure of the atmosphere is diminished on the surface of water, its tendency to pa.s.s into the state of vapor is increased. Were the whole pressure of the atmosphere removed from the surface of a lake, in a Summer"s day, when the temperature was no higher than seventy-two degrees, the water would begin to boil. Now it is well ascertained, that if there be any atmosphere about the moon, it is much lighter than ours, and presses on the surface of that body with a proportionally small force. This circ.u.mstance, therefore, would conspire with the other causes mentioned, to convert all the water of the moon into vapor, if we could suppose it to have existed at any given time.
But those, who are anxious to furnish the moon and other planets with all the accommodations which they find in our own, have a subterfuge in readiness, to which they invariably resort in all cases like the foregoing. "There may be," say they, "some means, unknown to us, provided for retaining water on the surface of the moon, and for preventing its being wasted by evaporation: perhaps it remains unaltered in quant.i.ty, imparting to the lunar regions perpetual verdure and fertility." To this I reply, that the bare possibility of a thing is but slight evidence of its reality; nor is such a condition possible, except by miracle. If they grant that the laws of Nature are the same in the moon as in the earth, then, according to the foregoing reasoning, there cannot be water in the moon; but if they say that the laws of Nature are not the same there as here, then we cannot reason at all respecting them. One who resorts to a subterfuge of this kind ruins his own cause.
He argues the existence of water in the moon, from the a.n.a.logy of that planet to this. But if the laws of Nature are not the same there as here, what becomes of his a.n.a.logy? A liquid substance which would not evaporate by such a degree of solar heat as falls on the moon, which would not evaporate the faster, in consequence of the diminished atmospheric pressure which prevails there, could not be water, for it would not have the properties of water, and things are known by their properties. Whenever we desert the cardinal principle of the Newtonian philosophy,--that the laws of Nature are uniform throughout all her realms,--we wander in a labyrinth; all a.n.a.logies are made void; all physical reasonings cease; and imaginary possibilities or direct miracles take the place of legitimate natural causes.
On the supposition that the moon is inhabited, the question has often been raised, whether we may hope that our telescopes will ever be so much improved, and our other means of observation so much augmented, that we shall be able to discover either the lunar inhabitants or any of their works.
The improbability of our ever identifying _artificial structures_ in the moon may be inferred from the fact, that a s.p.a.ce a mile in diameter is the least s.p.a.ce that could be distinctly seen. Extensive works of art, as large cities, or the clearing up of large tracts of country for settlement or tillage, might indeed afford some varieties of surface; but they would be merely varieties of light and shade, and the individual objects that occasioned them would probably never be recognised by their distinctive characters. Thus, a building equal to the great pyramid of Egypt, which covers a s.p.a.ce less than the fifth of a mile in diameter, would not be distinguished by its figure; indeed, it would be a mere point. Still less is it probable that we shall ever discover any inhabitants in the moon. Were we to view the moon with a telescope that magnifies ten thousand times, it would bring the moon apparently ten thousand times nearer, and present it to the eye like a body twenty-four miles off. But even this is a distance too great for us to see the works of man with distinctness. Moreover, from the nature of the telescope itself, we can never hope to apply a magnifying power so high as that here supposed. As I explained to you, when speaking of the telescope, whenever we increase the magnifying power of this instrument we diminish its field of view, so that with very high magnifiers we can see nothing but a point, such as a fixed star. We at the same time, also, magnify the vapors and smoke of the atmosphere, and all the imperfections of the medium, which greatly obscures the object, and prevents our seeing it distinctly. Hence it is generally most satisfactory to view the moon with low powers, which afford a large field of view and give a clear light. With Clark"s telescope, belonging to Yale College, we seldom gain any thing by applying to the moon a higher power than one hundred and eighty, although the instrument admits of magnifiers as high as four hundred and fifty.
Some writers, however, suppose that possibly we may trace indications of lunar inhabitants in their works, and that they may in like manner recognise the existence of the inhabitants of our planet. An author, who has reflected much on subjects of this kind, reasons as follows: "A navigator who approaches within a certain distance of a small island, although he perceives no human being upon it, can judge with certainty that it is inhabited, if he perceives human habitations, villages, corn-fields, or other traces of cultivation. In like manner, if we could perceive changes or operations in the moon, which could be traced to the agency of intelligent beings, we should then obtain satisfactory evidence that such beings exist on that planet; and it is thought possible that such operations may be traced. A telescope which magnifies twelve hundred times will enable us to perceive, as a visible point on the surface of the moon, an object whose diameter is only about three hundred feet. Such an object is not larger than many of our public edifices; and therefore, were any such edifices rearing in the moon, or were a town or city extending its boundaries, or were operations of this description carrying on, in a district where no such edifices had previously been erected, such objects and operations might probably be detected by a minute inspection. Were a mult.i.tude of living creatures moving from place to place, in a body, or were they even encamping in an extensive plain, like a large army, or like a tribe of Arabs in the desert, and afterwards removing, it is possible such changes might be traced by the difference of shade or color, which such movements would produce. In order to detect such minute objects and operations, it would be requisite that the surface of the moon should be distributed among at least a hundred astronomers, each having a spot or two allotted to him, as the object of his more particular investigation, and that the observations be continued for a period of at least thirty or forty years, during which time certain changes would probably be perceived, arising either from physical causes, or from the operations of living agents."[9]
FOOTNOTE:
[8] d.i.c.k"s "Celestial Scenery," Chapter IV
LETTER XVI.
THE MOON.--PHASES.--HARVEST MOON.--LIBRATIONS.