Chapter 10

Without going back of the nineteenth century we may find records of some of the most extraordinary comets that man has ever looked upon. In 1811, still spoken of as “the year of the comet,” because of the wonderful vintage ascribed to the skyey visitor, a comet shaped like a gigantic sword amazed the whole world, and, as it remained visible for seventeen months, was regarded by superstitious persons as a symbol of the fearful happenings of Napoleon’s Russian campaign. This comet, the extraordinary size of whose head, greatly exceeding that of the sun itself, has already been mentioned, was also remarkable for exhibiting so great a brilliancy without approaching even to the earth’s distance from the sun. But there was once a comet (and only once—in the year 1729) which never got nearer to the sun than four times the distance of the earth and yet appeared as a formidable object in the sky. As Professor Young has remarked, “it must have been an enormous comet to be visible from such a distance.” And we are to remember that there were no great telescopes in the year 1729. That comet affects the imagination like a phantom of space peering into the solar system, displaying its enormous train afar off (which, if it had approached as near as other comets, would probably have become _the_ celestial wonder of all human memory), and then turning away and vanishing in the depths of immensity.

In 1843 a comet appeared which was so brilliant that it could be seen in broad day close beside the sun! This was the first authenticated instance of that kind, but the occurrence was to be repeated, as we shall see in a moment, less than forty years later.

The splendid comet of 1858, usually called Donati’s, is remembered by many persons yet living. It was, perhaps, both as seen by the naked eye and with the telescope, the most beautiful comet of which we have any record. It too marked a rich vintage year, still remembered in the vineyards of France, where there is a popular belief that a great comet ripens the grape and imparts to the wine a flavor not attainable by the mere skill of the cultivator. There are “comet wines,” carefully treasured in certain cellars, and brought forth only when their owner wishes to treat his guests to a sip from paradise.

The year 1861 saw another very remarkable comet, of an aspect strangely vast and diffuse, which is believed to have swept the earth with its immense tail when it passed between us and the sun on the night of June 30th, an event which produced no other known effect than the appearance of an unwonted amount of scattered light in the sky.

The next very notable comet was the “Great Southern Comet” of 1880, which was not seen from the northern hemisphere. It mimicked the aspect of the famous comet of 1843, and to the great surprise of astronomers appeared to be traveling in the same path. This proved to be the rising of the curtain for an astronomical sensation unparalleled in its kind; for two years later another brilliant comet appeared, first in the southern hemisphere, _and it too followed the same track._ The startling suggestion was now made that this comet was identical with those of 1843 and 1880, its return having been hastened by the resistance experienced in passing twice through the coronal envelope, and there were some who thought that it would now swing swiftly round and then plunge straight into the sun, with consequences that might be disastrous to us on account of the “flash of heat” that would be produced by the impact. Nervous people were frightened, but observation soon proved that the danger was imaginary, for although the comet almost grazed the sun, and must have rushed through two or three million miles of the coronal region, no retardation of its immense velocity was perceptible, and it finally passed away in a damaged condition, as before remarked, and has never since appeared.

Then the probable truth was perceived—_viz.,_ that the three comets (1843, 1880, and 1882) were not one identical body, but three separate ones all traveling in the same orbit. It was found, too, that a comet seen in 1668 bore similar insignia of relationship. The natural inference was that these four bodies had once formed a single mass which had been split apart by the disruptive action of the sun. Strength was lent to this hypothesis by the fact that the comet of 1882 was apparently torn asunder during its perihelion passage, retreating into space in a dissevered state. But Prof. George Forbes has a theory that the splitting of the original cometary mass was effected by an unknown planet, probably greater than Jupiter, situated at a hundred times the earth’s distance from the sun, and revolving in a period of a thousand years. He supposes that the original comet was not that of 1668, but one seen in 1556, which has since been “missing,” and that its disruption occurred from an encounter with the supposititious planet about the year 1700. Truly from every point of view comets are the most extraordinary of adventurers!

The comet of 1882 was likewise remarkable for being visible, like its predecessor of 1843, in full daylight in close proximity to the sun. The story of its detection when almost in contact with the solar disk is dramatic. It had been discovered in the southern hemisphere only a couple of weeks before its perihelion, which occurred on September 17th, and on the forenoon of that day it was seen by Doctor Common in England, and by Doctor Elkin and Mr Finlay at the Cape of Good Hope, almost touching the sun. It looked like a dazzling white bird with outspread wings. The southern observers watched it go _right into the sun,_ when it instantly disappeared. What had happened was that the comet in passing its perihelion point had swung exactly between the earth and the sun. On the following morning it was seen from all parts of the world close by the sun on the opposite side, and it remained thus visible for three days, gradually receding from the solar disk. It then became visible for northern observers in the morning sky before sunrise, brandishing a portentous sword-shaped tail which, if it had been in the evening sky, would have excited the wonder of hundreds of millions, but situated where it was, comparatively few ever saw it.

The application of photography to the study of comets has revealed many curious details which might otherwise have escaped detection, or at best have remained subject to doubt. It has in particular shown not only the precise form of the tails, but the remarkable vicissitudes that they undergo. Professor Barnard’s photographs of Brooks’ comet in 1893 suggested, by the extraordinary changes in the form of the tail which they revealed, that the comet was encountering a series of obstructions in space which bent and twisted its tail into fantastic shapes. The reader will observe the strange form into which the tail was thrown on the night of October 21st. A cloud of meteors through which the comet was passing might have produced such deformations of its tail. In the photograph of Daniels’ comet of 1907, a curious striping of the tail will be noticed. The short bright streaks seen in the photograph, it may be explained, are the images of stars which are drawn out into lines in consequence of the fact that the photographic telescope was adjusted to follow the motion of the comet while the stars remained at rest.

But the adventures of comets are not confined to possible encounters with unknown obstacles. We have referred to the fact that the great planets, and especially Jupiter, frequently interfere with the motions of comets. This interference is not limited to the original alteration of their orbits from possible parabolas to ellipses, but is sometimes exercised again and again, turning the bewildered comets into elliptical paths of all degrees of eccentricity. A famous example of this kind of planetary horse-play is furnished by the story of Lexell’s missing comet. This comet was first seen in 1770. Investigation showed that it was moving in an orbit which should bring it back to perihelion every five and a half years; yet it had never been seen before and, although often searched for, has never been seen since. Laplace and Leverrier proved mathematically that in 1767 it had approached so close to Jupiter as to be involved among the orbits of his satellites. What its track had been before is not known, but on that occasion the giant planet seized the interloper, threw it into a short elliptic orbit and sent it, like an arrested vagrant, to receive sentence at the bar of the sun. On this journey it passed within less than 1,500,000 miles of the earth. The form of orbit which Jupiter had impressed required, as we have said, its return in about five and a half years; but soon after 1770 it had the misfortune a second time to encounter Jupiter at close range, and he, as if dissatisfied with the leniency of the sun, or indignant at the stranger’s familiarity, seized the comet and hurled it out of the system, or at any rate so far away that it has never since been able to rejoin the family circle that basks in the immediate rays of the solar hearth. Nor is this the only instance in which Jupiter has dealt summarily with small comets that have approached him with too little deference.

The function which Jupiter so conspicuously fulfills as master of the hounds to the sun is worth considering a little more in detail. To change the figure, imagine the sun in its voyage through space to be like a majestic battleship surrounded by its scouts. Small vessels (the comets, as they are overhauled by the squadron, are taken in charge by the scouts, with Jupiter for their chief, and are forced to accompany the fleet, but not all are impressed. If a strange comet undertakes to run across Jupiter’s bows the latter brings it to, and makes prize of it by throwing it into a relatively small ellipse with the sun for its focus. Thenceforth, unless, as happened to the unhappy comet of Lexell, it encounters Jupiter again in such a way as to be diverted by him into a more distant orbit, it can never get away. About thirty comets are now known to have thus been captured by the great planet, and they are called “Jupiter’s Comet Family.” But, on the other hand, if a wandering comet crosses the wake of the chief planetary scout the latter simply drives it away by accelerating its motion and compels it to steer off into open space. The transformation of comets into meteors will be considered in the next chapter, but here, in passing, mention may be made of the strange fate of one member of Jupiter’s family, Biela’s comet, which, having become over bold in its advances to its captor, was, after a few revolutions in is impressed orbit, torn to pieces and turned into a flock of meteors.

And now let us return to the mystery of comets’ tails. That we are fully justified in speaking of the tails of comets as mysterious is proved by the declaration of Sir John Herschel, who averred, in so many words, that “there is some profound secret and mystery of nature concerned in this phenomenon,” and this profound secret and mystery has not yet been altogether cleared up. Nevertheless, the all-explaining hypothesis of Arrhenius offers us once more a certain amount of aid. Comets’ tails, Arrhenius assures us, are but another result of the pressure of light. The reader will recall the applications of this theory to the Zodiacal Light and the Aurora. In the form in which we now have to deal with it, the supposition is made that as a comet approaches the sun eruptions of vapor, due to the solar heat, occur in its nucleus. These are naturally most active on the side which is directly exposed to the sun, whence the appearance of the immense glowing envelopes that surround the nucleus on the sunward side. Among the particles of hydro-carbon, and perhaps solid carbon in the state of fine dust, which are thus set free there will be many whose size is within the critical limit which enables the light-waves from the sun to drive them away. Clouds of such particles, then, will stream off behind the advancing comet, producing the appearance of a tail. This accounts for the fact that the tails of comets are always directed away from the sun, and it also explains the varying forms of the tails and the extraordinary changes that they undergo. The speed of the particles driven before the light-waves must depend upon their size and weight, the lightest of a given size traveling the most swiftly. By accretion certain particles might grow, thus losing velocity and producing the appearance of bunches in the tail, such as have been observed. The hypothesis also falls in with the researches of Bredichin, who has divided the tails of comets into three principal classes—_viz.:_ (1) Those which appear as long, straight rays; (2) Those which have the form of curved plumes or scimitars; (3) Those which are short, brushy, and curved sharply backward along the comet’s path. In the first type he calculates the repulsive force at from twelve to fifteen times the force of gravity; in the second at from two to four times; and in the third at about one and a half times. The straight tails he ascribes to hydrogen because the hydrogen atom is the lightest known; the sword-shaped tails to hydro-carbons; and the stumpy tails to vaporized iron. It will be seen that, if the force driving off the tails is that which Arrhenius assumes it to be, the forms of those appendages would accord with those that Bredichin’s theory calls for. At the same time we have an explanation of the multiple tails with which some comets have adorned themselves. The comet of 1744, for instance, had at one time no less than seven tails spread in a wide curved brush behind it. Donati’s comet of 1858 also had at least two tails, the principal one sword-shaped and the other long, narrow, and as straight as a rule. According to Bredichin, the straight tail must have been composed of hydrogen, and the other of some form of hydro-carbon whose atoms are heavier than those of hydrogen, and, consequently, when swept away by the storm of light-waves, followed a curvature depending upon the resultant of the forces operating upon them. The seven tails of the comet of 1744 presented a kind of diagram graphically exhibiting its complex composition, and, if we knew a little more about the constituents of a comet, we might be able to say from the amount of curvature of the different tails just what were the seven substances of which that comet consisted.

If these theories seem to the reader fantastic, at any rate they are no more fantastic than the phenomena that they seek to explain.

XI Meteors, Fire-Balls, and Meteorites

One of the most terrorizing spectacles with which the heavens have ever caused the hearts of men to quake occurred on the night of November 13, 1833. On that night North America, which faced the storm, was under a continual rain of fire from about ten o’clock in the evening until daybreak.

_The fragments of a comet had struck the earth._

But the meaning of what had happened was not discovered until long afterward. To the astronomers who, with astonishment not less than that of other people, watched the wonderful scene, it was an unparalleled “shower of meteors.” They did not then suspect that those meteors had once formed the head of a comet. Light dawned when, a year later, Prof. Denison Olmsted, of Yale College, demonstrated that the meteors had all moved in parallel orbits around the sun, and that these orbits intersected that of the earth at the point where our planet happened to be on the memorable night of November 13th. Professor Olmsted even went so far as to suggest that the cloud of meteors that had encountered the earth might form a diffuse comet; but full recognition of the fact that they were cometary débris came later, as the result of further investigation. The key to the secret was plainly displayed in the spectacle itself, and was noticed without being understood by thousands of the terror-stricken beholders. It was _an umbrella of fire_ that had opened overhead and covered the heavens; in other words, the meteors all radiated from a particular point in the constellation Leo, and, being countless as the snowflakes in a winter tempest, they ribbed the sky with fiery streaks. Professor Olmsted showed that the radiation of the meteors from a fixed point was an effect of perspective, and in itself a proof that they were moving in parallel paths when they encountered the earth. The fact was noted that there had been a similar, but incomparably less brilliant, display of meteors on the same day of November, 1832, and it was rightly concluded that these had belonged to the same stream, although the true relationship of the phenomena was not immediately apprehended. Olmsted ascribed to the meteors a revolution about the sun once in every six months, bringing them to the intersection of their orbit with that of the earth every November 13th; but later investigators found that the real period was about thirty-three and one-quarter years, so that the great displays were due three times in a century, and their return was confidently predicted for the year 1866. The appearance of the meteors in 1832, a year before the great display, was ascribed to the great length of the stream which they formed in space—so great that they required more than two years to cross the earth’s orbit. In 1832 the earth had encountered a relatively rare part of the stream, but in 1833, on returning to the crossing-place, it found there the richest part of the stream pouring across its orbit. This explanation also proved to be correct, and the predicted return in 1866 was duly witnessed, although the display was much less brilliant than in 1833. It was followed by another in 1867.

In the mean time Olmsted’s idea of a cometary relationship of the meteors was demonstrated to be correct by the researches of Schiaparelli and others, who showed that not only the November meteors, but those of August, which are seen more or less abundantly every year, traveled in the tracks of well-known comets, and had undoubtedly an identical origin with those comets. In other words the comets and the meteor-swarms were both remnants of original masses which had probably been split up by the action of the sun, or of some planet to which they had made close approaches. The annual periodicity of the August meteors was ascribed to the fact that the separation had taken place so long ago that the meteors had become distributed all around the orbit, in consequence of which the earth encountered some of them every year when it arrived at the crossing-point. Then Leverrier showed that the original comet associated with the November meteors was probably brought into the system by the influence of the planet Uranus in the year 126 of the Christian era. Afterward Alexander Herschel identified the tracks of no less than seventy-six meteor-swarms (most of them inconspicuous) with those of comets. The still more recent researches of Mr W. F. Denning make it probable that there are no meteors which do not belong to a flock or system probably formed by the disintegration of a cometary mass; even the apparently sporadic ones which shoot across the sky, “lost souls in the night,” being members of flocks which have become so widely scattered that the earth sometimes takes weeks to pass through the region of space where their paths lie.

The November meteors should have exhibited another pair of spectacles in 1899 and 1900, and their failure to do so caused at first much disappointment, until it was made plain that a good reason existed for their absence. It was found that after their last appearance, in 1867, they had been disturbed in their movements by the planets Jupiter and Saturn, whose attractions had so shifted the position of their orbit that it no longer intersected that of the earth, as it did before. Whether another planetary interference will sometime bring the principal mass of the November meteors back to the former point of intersection with the earth’s orbit is a question for the future to decide. It would seem that there may be several parallel streams of the November meteors, and that some of them, like those of August, are distributed entirely around the orbit, so that every mid-November we see a few of them.

We come now to a very remarkable example of the disintegration of a comet and the formation of a meteor-stream. In 1826 Biela, of Josephstadt, Austria, discovered a comet to which his name was given. Calculation showed that it had an orbital period of about six and a half years, belonging to Jupiter’s “family.” On one of its returns, in 1846, it astonished its watchers by suddenly splitting in two. The two comets thus formed out of one separated to a distance of about one hundred and sixty thousand miles, and then raced side by side, sometimes with a curious ligature connecting them, like Siamese twins, until they disappeared together in interplanetary space. In 1852 they came back, still nearly side by side, but now the distance between them had increased to a million and a quarter of miles. After that, at every recurrence of their period, astronomers looked for them in vain, until 1872, when an amazing thing happened. On the night of November 28th, when the earth was crossing the plane of the orbit of the missing comet, a brilliant shower of meteors burst from the northern sky, traveling nearly in the track which the comet should have pursued. The astronomers were electrified. Klinkerfues, of Göttingen, telegraphed to Pogson, of Madras: _“Biela touched earth; search near Theta Centauri.”_ Pogson searched in the place indicated and saw a cometary mass retreating into the southern heavens, where it was soon swallowed from sight!

Since then the Biela meteors have been among the recognized periodic spectacles of the sky, and few if any doubt that they represent a portion of the missing comet whose disintegration began with the separation into two parts in 1846. The comet itself has never since been seen. The first display of these meteors, sometimes called the “Andromedes,” because they radiate from the constellation Andromeda, was remarkable for the great brilliancy of many of the fire-balls that shot among the shower of smaller sparks, some of which were described as equaling the full moon in size. None of them is known to have reached the earth, but during the display of the same meteors in 1885 a meteoric mass fell at Mazapil in Northern Mexico (it is now in the Museum at Vienna), which many have thought may actually be a piece of the original comet of Biela. This brings us to the second branch of our subject.