Complete Essays, Literary Criticism, Cryptography, Autography, Translations & Letters. Эдгар Аллан По
Читать онлайн книгу.
two hundred and fifty millions. Then we have Jupiter, distant four hundred and ninety millions; then Saturn, nine hundred millions; then Uranus, nineteen hundred millions; finally Neptune, lately discovered, and revolving at a distance, say of twenty-eight hundred millions. Leaving Neptune out of the account — of which as yet we know little accurately and which is, possibly, one of a system of Asteroids — it will be seen that, within certain limits, there exists an order of interval among the planets. Speaking loosely, we may say that each outer planet is twice as far from the Sun as is the next inner one. May not the order here mentioned — may not the law of Bode — be deduced from consideration of the analogy suggested by me as having place between the solar discharge of rings and the mode of the atomic radiation?
The numbers hurriedly mentioned in this summary of distance it is folly to attempt comprehending, unless in the light of abstract arithmetical facts. They are not practically tangible ones. They convey no precise ideas. I have stated that Neptune, the planet farthest from the Sun, revolves about him at a distance of twenty-eight hundred millions of miles. So far good:— I have stated a mathematical fact; and, without comprehending it in the least, we may put it to use — mathematically. But in mentioning, even, that the Moon revolves about the Earth at the comparatively trifling distance of two hundred and thirty-seven thousand miles, I entertained no expectation of giving any one to understand — to know — to feel — how far from the Earth the Moon actually is. Two hundred and thirty-seven thousand miles! There are, perhaps, few of my readers who have not crossed the Atlantic ocean; yet how many of them have a distinct idea of even the three thousand miles intervening between shore and shore? I doubt, indeed, whether the man lives who can force into his brain the most remote conception of the interval between one milestone and its next neighbor upon the turnpike. We are in some measure aided, however, in our consideration of distance, by combining this consideration with the kindred one of velocity. Sound passes through eleven hundred feet of space in a second of time. Now were it possible for an inhabitant of the Earth to see the flash of a cannon discharged in the Moon, and to hear the report, he would have to wait, after perceiving the former, more than 13 entire days and nights before getting any intimation of the latter.
However feeble be the impression, even thus conveyed, of the Moon’s real distance from the Earth, it will, nevertheless, effect a good object in enabling us more clearly to see the futility of attempting to grasp such intervals as that of the twenty-eight hundred millions of miles between our Sun and Neptune; or even that of the ninety-five millions between the Sun and the Earth we inhabit. A cannon-ball, flying at the greatest velocity with which a ball has ever been known to fly, could not traverse the latter interval in less than twenty years; while for the former it would require five hundred and ninety.
Our Moon’s real diameter is 2,160 miles; yet she is comparatively so trifling an object that it would take nearly fifty such orbs to compose one as great as the Earth.
The diameter of our own globe is 7,912 miles; but from the enunciation of these numbers what positive idea do we derive?
If we ascend an ordinary mountain and look around us from its summit, we behold a landscape stretching, say forty miles, in every direction; forming a circle two hundred and fifty miles in circumference; and including an area of five thousand square miles. The extent of such a prospect, on account of the successiveness with which its portions necessarily present themselves to view, can be only very feebly and very partially appreciated; yet the entire panorama would comprehend no more than one fourty-thousandth part of the mere surface of our globe. Were this panorama, then, to be succeeded, after the lapse of an hour, by another of equal extent; this again by a third, after the lapse of another hour; this again by a fourth, after lapse of another hour — and so on, until the scenery of the whole Earth were exhausted; and were we to be engaged in examining these various panoramas for twelve hours of every day; we should nevertheless, be nine years and forty-eight days in completing the general survey.
But if the mere surface of the Earth eludes the grasp of the imagination, what are we to think of its cubical contents? It embraces a mass of matter equal in weight to at least two sextillions, two hundred quintillions of tons. Let us suppose it in a state of quiescence; and now let us endeavor to conceive a mechanical force sufficient to set it in motion! Not the strength of all the myriads of beings whom we may conclude to inhabit the planetary worlds of our system, not the combined physical strength of all these beings — even admitting all to be more powerful than man — would avail to stir the ponderous mass a single inch from its position.
What are we to understand, then, of the force which, under similar circumstances, would be required to move the largest of our planets, Jupiter? This is eighty-six thousand miles in diameter, and would include within its surface more than a thousand orbs of the magnitude of our own. Yet this stupendous body is actually flying around the Sun at the rate of twenty-nine thousand miles an hour — that is to say, with a velocity forty times greater than that of a cannon-ball! The thought of such a phenomenon cannot well be said to startle the mind; it palsies and appalls it. Not unfrequently we task our imagination in picturing the capacities of an angel. Let us fancy such a being at a distance of some hundred miles from Jupiter, a close eye-witness of this planet as it speeds on its annual revolution. Now can we, I demand, fashion for ourselves any conception so distinct of this ideal being’s spiritual exaltation, as that involved in the supposition that, even by this immeasurable mass of matter whirled immediately before his eyes, with a velocity so unutterable, he — an angel — angelic though he be — is not at once struck into nothingness and overwhelmed?
At this point, however, it seems proper to suggest that, in fact, we have been speaking of comparative trifles. Our Sun — the central and controlling orb of the system to which Jupiter belongs — is not only greater than Jupiter, but greater by far than all the planets of the system taken together. This fact is an essential condition, indeed, of the stability of the system itself. The diameter of Jupiter has been mentioned; it is eighty-six thousand miles; that of the Sun is eight hundred and eighty-two thousand miles. An inhabitant of the latter, traveling ninetey miles a day, would be more than eighty years in going round a great circle of its circumference. It occupies a cubical space of 681 quadrillions, 472 trillions of miles. The Moon, as has been stated, revolves about the Earth at a distance of two hundred and thirty-seven thousand miles — in an orbit, consequently, of nearly a million and a half. Now, were the Sun placed upon the Earth, centre over centre, the body of the former would extend, in every direction, not only to the line of the Moon’s orbit, but beyond it a distance of two hundred thousand miles.
And here, once again, let me suggest that, in fact, we have still been speaking of comparative trifles. The distance of the planet Neptune from the Sun has been stated; it is twenty hundred millions of miles; its orbit, therefore, is about seventeen billions. Let this be borne in mind while we glance at some one of the brightest stars. Between this and the star of our system (the Sun) there is a gulf of space, to convey any idea of which we should need the tongue of an archangel. From our system, then, and from our Sun, or star, the star at which we suppose ourselves glancing is a thing altogether apart; — still, for the moment, let us imagine it placed upon our Sun, centre over centre, as we just now imagined this Sun itself placed upon the Earth. Let us now conceive the particular star we have in mind, extending, in every direction, beyond the orbit of Mercury — of Venus — of the Earth: — still on, beyond the orbit of Mars — of the Asteroids — of Jupiter — of Saturn — of Uranus — until, finally, we fancy it filling the circle, seventeen billions of miles in circumference, which is described by the revolution of Leverrier’s planet. When we have conceived all this, we shall have entertained no extravagant conception. There is the very best reason for believing that many of the stars are even far larger than the one we have imagined. I mean to say that we have the very best empirical basis for such belief; and, in looking back at the original, atomic arrangements for diversity, which have been assumed as a part of the Divine plan in the constitution of the Universe, we shall be enabled easily to understand, and to credit, the existence of even far vaster disproportions in stellar size than any to which I have hitherto alluded. The largest orbs, of course, we must expect to find rolling through the widest vacancies of Space.
I remarked, just now, that, to convey