Part 9

The normal temperature of an unprotected body at the distance of Mars from the sun is about thirty-two degrees blow zero (Fahrenheit); and since we know Mars has no dense atmosphere to retain the heat it acquires, it is natural to suppose the existence there of a very low temperature, and one incompatible with our ideas of life and growth. The most favorable conclusions do not place the mean temperature higher than forty-eight degrees Fahrenheit. It is certain that the planet must be subjected to great extremes of temperature within its range, since its filmy robe of atmosphere cannot protect it to any extent from the direct rays of the sun during the day, nor prevent the heat from escaping with great rapidity at night; so that, whatever heat it may gain in the daytime, it probably loses much of it during the night. Until we know more of the constitution of the atmosphere of Mars we can know nothing certainly about its temperature beyond the fact that it is much colder than ours and more subject to variations. Anything much more definite than this is speculative at present. But with all the observation that is now given to Mars, and with the always increasing facilities for the work, many uncertainties regarding the planet are likely to be made clear before long. The spectroscope will probably be the final resort for facts concerning the atmosphere.

DISTANCE AND BRILLIANCY

Mars is, on an average, about one and a half times farther from the sun than we are. Its mean distance is, in round numbers, one hundred and forty-one million miles; but, since its orbit is very eccentric--more eccentric than that of any other of the planets except Mercury--its distance from the sun varies as much as twenty-six million miles. At its nearest the planet is a little more than one hundred and twenty-eight million miles from the sun. Its greatest distance from that luminary is one hundred and fifty-four million miles. At its mean distance something more than twelve and a half minutes are required for light to travel from the sun to the planet.

The sun becomes quite a medium-sized object as viewed from Mars, and must lose some of the majesty of aspect that it has to us. Its apparent diameter is about twenty-one minutes, which would make it less than two-thirds as large as we see it. The average amount of light and heat that it furnishes to that poor, lightly clad little planet is less than half as much as we receive, though when the planet is at perihelion the sun’s radiance is forty per cent. more powerful than when it is at its greatest distance from the source of these life-giving forces.

The eccentricity of the orbit of Mars is the cause also of his great variations in distance from us, and hence of his extreme changes in brilliancy. These changes are many times greater with reference to the earth than to the sun. At the planet’s nearest approach to us it comes a little nearer than thirty-five millions of miles. This is when it is in opposition in August. When opposition occurs in February, it is as much as sixty-two millions of miles from us; and when it is in conjunction, and on the other side of the sun from us, it is sometimes two hundred and forty-eight million miles distant. At his nearest approach light leaps over to us from Mars in about four minutes and eighteen seconds; at his greatest distance it cannot reach us in less than twenty-two minutes. The apparent mean diameter of Mars is about nine and fifty-six hundredths seconds, but varies from three and six-tenths seconds, when the planet is farthest away, to twenty-five seconds when it is nearest to us.

While Mars does not exhibit the phases of the inner planets Venus and Mercury, by showing a disc sometimes at half-full and sometimes at crescent it is sufficiently near us to be, in certain positions, gibbous, or to show a little less than a full face. When this occurs Mars is about half-way between opposition and conjunction, and the earth and the sun are so situated that we are slightly to one side of the fully illuminated face of Mars. This phase, however, is not sufficiently marked to make any material difference in the brilliancy of the planet. It is not apparent without the aid of a telescope.

From Mars the earth shows all the phases that Venus shows to us. When Mars is flaming down upon us in his position of greatest brilliancy we present to him a thin crescent. When he sees our full face we are on the opposite side of the sun from him. It would be necessary to have a more brilliant electrical illumination than any we have yet seen to lighten the dark side of the earth and exchange signals with Mars when we are nearest to him--if, indeed, our atmosphere would permit from Mars any view at all of the surface of the earth, which is not at all certain. In spite of its phases, the earth must shine on Mars at times in a very attractive way. It is not so bright, perhaps, as Venus is to us, nor as we are to Venus; but with our moon circling about us we may well be, when in a favorable situation, a very interesting double star, the distance between earth and moon appearing on Mars about equal to one-fourth of the apparent diameter of the moon.

DAY AND NIGHT, AND SEASONS

Owing to the undoubted permanent markings on the surface of Mars, astronomers have been able to determine the length of its day with much less likelihood of error than in the case of any other planet except the one on which we dwell. It rotates on its axis in twenty-four hours, thirty-seven minutes, and twenty-three seconds, which makes its day nearly forty minutes longer than ours. In our greed for all too fleeting time we may feel a little envy of these extra minutes, which would mean so much to us if added to our day. But they do not seem so important when we consider that while Mars is having six hundred and seventy of these days we are having six hundred and eighty-seven of ours, which, after all, seems to give us eighteen days more of time. Our attitude toward the situation depends upon the point of view.

The axis of Mars is inclined to its orbit about twenty-four degrees and fifty minutes. This is but little more than the inclination of the earth’s axis, which is twenty-three degrees and twenty-seven minutes. Mars, therefore, has seasons very much like ours. They are, however, slightly more marked than ours, because of the somewhat greater inclination of the axis of the planet; and they are nearly double the length of ours, because it takes Mars nearly two of our years to make its journey around the sun. Its seasons, then, are nearly six months long, while ours are but three. It has frigid, temperate, and torrid zones, practically the same as the earth has. Its greatest inequalities of season are caused by the eccentricity of its orbit. It is, like the earth, farthest away from the sun when it is summer in the northern hemisphere; and in this situation it travels so much more slowly than when it is near the sun that summer in its northern hemisphere is seventy-five days longer than the same season in the southern hemisphere. The northern summer and the southern winter are each three hundred and eighty days long, while the reverse seasons in each hemisphere are only three hundred and six days long. The northern summer is not only longer but also cooler than the southern, and the northern winter is shorter and warmer than the southern. Which hemisphere has the more favorable climate depends upon what is needed on Mars to maintain life. It may be that in this regard the shorter, hotter, southern summer is the best season the planet affords.

SURFACE ASPECTS OF MARS

Seen through a telescope, Mars is not so red as it appears to the naked eye. One of the best observers of it has compared it to an opal, and it surely has some of the qualities of an opal in the diversity of aspect that it shows to different observers from different points of view. No other planet has been so subjected to controversy over what appears on its surface. This is partly due to its being the only planet whose surface is without doubt open to our view and in a situation where it can be minutely studied, and partly to the fact that the controversy involves questions concerning life and intelligence, which are always of intense human interest. Matters of this vital sort are never accepted without dispute. That is one way of getting at the truth. In the intensity of the discussion the question of the existence of the phenomena and that of the meaning ascribed to them are sometimes unnecessarily made to depend upon each other. In the case of Mars it may well be that there is less difference of opinion as to what is really seen on its surface than as to the meaning of the phenomena.

There are recorded observations made of Mars as early as 272 B.C., more than two thousand years ago, and it has been nearly two hundred and fifty years since the snow-caps were first seen. Through the telescope not only the snow-caps are plainly visible at the proper seasons, but there are also visible dark patches over the surface, showing a variety of color, and in certain parts changing somewhat as the seasons change. It is one of these patches, the outline of which suggests a somewhat twisted eye, that is known as the “eye of Mars.” The main surface of the planet is reddish yellow in color; the patches on it are variously described as gray, grayish green, or blue, colors which in combination could easily take on a tone of any of them according to the eye of the observer, and this portion of the planet’s surface does, in fact, show first one and then the other of them predominating.

When the planet’s differences of color were first observed, the reddish-yellow portion was supposed to be land, and the areas of varying bluish-green and gray were thought to be the waters of the ever-changing seas. A little after the middle of the last century some keen eyes saw a few streaks or markings of some sort across the land areas, and in 1877 a close study of the planet by an eminent Italian astronomer, Schiaparelli, brought to his view many greenish streaks, all directed toward the so-called seas, and sometimes seeming to intersect there. In publishing this discovery Schiaparelli called these streaks _canalli_, which is properly translated “channels,” but appeared in English as “canals.” Since “canal” with us means artificially constructed waterways, the discovery became at once one of universal interest; for artificial waterways mean human beings to construct them, and it was an intensely interesting thing to know that Mars was probably inhabited with beings at least somewhat after our own kind. It was a new world. The little planet became a topic of absorbing interest to all of us. And thus began the controversy over the habitability of Mars, and the meaning of its surface features, in which astronomers, seeking only for the truth, have taken a much more dignified part than they have sometimes been more or less sensationally represented as doing. The discoverer of the so-called canals himself believed them to be natural waterways cutting through the land after the manner of our straits and channels, and had very little to say in explanation of them. But his work gave a new impetus to the study of this little brother world of ours.

In our own country the observatory at Flagstaff is the one the best known among those doing research work on Mars; but it is not the only one. The observatory there is finely situated in the thin, clear atmosphere of Arizona, the mechanical facilities for such work are good, and there seems no doubt that there are there some observers who have eyes that were made for seeing. All that the sharp vision of Schiaparelli saw has been seen there, and much more. Several hundred canals have been discovered, and at certain seasons many of them have appeared to become double. Their courses have been followed, and their appearances and disappearances have been watched. Somewhere near six hundred of them have been mapped. According to these maps, the canals seem to be laid out with a geometrical precision such as nature is not likely to follow; they run across some regions that were formerly supposed to be water, and they have points of convergence every here and there, forming at such points large dark areas.

Naturally, when a person has discovered any new and curious phenomenon in nature he seeks to determine the exact meaning of it. It would have very little interest for him if he did not, and it would be a dry lot of facts that did not arouse a desire to do this. The interpretation put upon what has been seen at the observatory at Flagstaff is, in brief, about as follows:

The surface of Mars has no oceans or mountains. The reddish areas, which form the larger part of the surface, are deserts. The blue-green streaks are ribbons of vegetation along each side of artificially constructed waterways, which are of immense length and cross and recross each other until they somewhat resemble a network of lines over the desert surface of the planet, and are used for irrigating this arid region. The points where the canals converge and form the large dark spots are oases made by the water carried by the canals. The water is supplied by the melting of the caps of snow at the poles during the Martian summer, the expanding of the lines of vegetation seeming to occur at periods corresponding to the time required for the water of the melting snow to reach the oases. The presence of this vast system of artificial waterways covering a large part of the surface of Mars makes it seem probable that “Mars is inhabited by beings of some sort or other,” that these beings are not men such as we know anything about, but that “there may be a local intelligence equal to or superior to ours.”

These conclusions concerning what is seen on Mars are not held by any one to be completely proved, but are thought by their author to follow reasonably from the phenomena as observed. By persons of a different temperament they are regarded as too complete an explanation, particularly as the data upon which they are founded are not undisputed. Some of the best astronomers have not been able even to see the multitude of fine lines, much less to give any explanation of them. Others do not regard it as certain that they are so geometric in their outlines as to suggest anything more than cracks or clefts in the surface of Mars, such as might be made by nature, and consider that, instead of indicating life, human or other, they may be the marks of age, such as similar lines or cracks which have been observed on Mercury seem to be.

Also, it is not at all certain that there is sufficient water vapor in the slight atmosphere of Mars to furnish the snow necessary for this great irrigating system, nor the heat to melt it at the proper season. The natural temperature of Mars would be, as we have seen, very low, and unless it is modified in some way not yet indicated everything points to a frigidity too intense to permit the continuance of life and growth of any sort known to us.

These things must all be reckoned with before anything certain can be known of the surface of Mars. The difficulty of pronouncing upon the minute details is impressively indicated by Professor Moulton, who says that, even under the finest conditions and with the best telescopes, it is like viewing “a perfectly accurate relief map of the whole United States made on such a scale that it would be only three inches in diameter and held at a distance of three feet from the eye.” Under such a near limit of vision, we can well see that differences of opinion might arise.

The mere fact that some astronomers have not seen the lines on Mars does not mean that they deny their existence. Some eyes have greater defining power than others, as well as some telescopes, as every one knows. But while all the lines and patches of color that are claimed to have been seen on Mars doubtless have been seen by some persons, yet it is not necessary to accept the interpretation of them given by lively-minded observers when it is not convincing. There may be vegetation on Mars, and even intelligent beings. We do not know; and thus far there is not much to support, even by inference, the view that there are. If we want the truth, we are brought no nearer to it by giving full credence to a speculative theory simply because it is interesting and pleasant; and thus far all theories advanced as to the nature of the surface markings on Mars are speculations, though there is no doubt that the marks are there. It is pleasing, however, to contemplate the idea of there being on Mars, or on any other planet, an active intelligence of any sort resembling what we have here on earth, and it is not strange that such a wide-spread popular interest should attach to Mars, in view of what has been suggested by the markings on its surface.

THE SATELLITES OF MARS

Mars has a little family of two moons. Tiny little bodies they are, the smallest in the solar family except, perhaps, an occasional asteroid. Neither one of them is more than ten miles in diameter, and the two together are smaller than any other known satellite. They can only be seen when Mars is in opposition, and then only with a fairly large telescope. They were discovered in 1877, and named Phobos and Deimos, the names of the two attendants of the god of war. Phobos is the brighter and the nearer to the planet. It is less than four thousand miles from the surface of Mars; and on account of its being so near and the shape of Mars being a spheroid, like that of the earth, the little satellite can never be seen from Mars beyond sixty-nine degrees of latitude on each side of the equator. Within these limits it shows great activity. It makes a complete circuit around Mars in seven and a half hours; and this swift revolution, combined with the motion of Mars on its axis, makes Phobos seem to rise in the west and set in the east, pass over the heavens in less than twelve hours, and go through all its phases, from “new” to “full,” one and a half times every night. Its light is rather insignificant, being about sixty times less than we receive from our satellite; but, on the whole, it must be a rather gay and pleasant little moon.

Deimos is not any larger than Phobos, and not as bright; but it is slightly less difficult for us to see, because it is between two and three times farther away from Mars than Phobos is, and thus not so much lost in the light of the planet. It circles around Mars in a little more than thirty hours, and this, being only six hours more than Mars consumes in turning around on its axis, results in requiring more than two days for the satellite to pass from rising to setting. Between rising and setting it goes through its phases four times. It can be seen from all parts of Mars, but gives very little light to the planet--more than a thousand times less than our moon gives us.

The symbol of Mars is ♂, a conventionalized figure representing a shield and a spear--implements of war appropriate for the use of the deity especially connected with warfare.

XIII

JUPITER

One never feels so impressed with the power of the sun as when one contemplates it in relation to Jupiter. Great Jupiter, he may well be called, nearly five hundred million miles out in space, almost a sun himself, the center of a system containing bodies larger than the sun’s nearest planet, Mercury; and yet just Jupiter, one of the planets, held firmly in leash like the others by the sun’s overwhelming force of gravity, forever compelled to revolve about that parent body with the rest of its offspring, to stay at home within the bounds of the sun’s domain, to keep within certain limits in his own orbit, forced to hasten on when he comes nearest the power that controls him, and unable to keep up the same rate of speed when he is farther away. One may well wonder at the immensity beyond comprehension of the stars, among which our sun is but a very small one, when one considers how even this small one can thus swing huge Jupiter about. For Jupiter is, after the sun itself, the mammoth member of our system. In volume he is larger than all the other planets put together, and in mass he is more than double as large as the combined mass of all the others. He is about equal to the sun in density, and about one-fourth as dense as the earth.

There is less difference in size between Jupiter and the sun than there is between Jupiter and the earth. His diameter is eleven times greater than that of the earth. The sun’s diameter is only ten times greater than Jupiter’s. His surface is one hundred and sixteen times that of the earth; the sun’s own surface is only a hundred times larger than his. Jupiter weighs more than three hundred times as much as the earth; the sun weighs only six times more than Jupiter. At the equator his diameter is about ninety thousand miles; but, as the planet is much flattened at the poles, the diameter from pole to pole is only a little more than eighty-four thousand miles. This flattening is due to the very rapid spinning of the planet on its axis, a motion that will always cause a plastic body to bulge at the equator, and thus flatten at the poles.

The force of gravity on Jupiter is about two and one-half times greater than on the earth. A fairy-like figure weighing here only a hundred pounds would be held to the surface of Jupiter with a force equal to two hundred and sixty pounds. This tremendous power makes Jupiter the greatest disturbing body among all the planets. He gives Saturn a mighty pull when the two planets come near each other; he draws some of the little asteroids five or six degrees out of their course when it carries them into the field of his influence; and there are as many as thirty comets that have become permanent members of the solar system, because through his great power of attraction he has made them captive.

Jupiter is so much farther from the sun than we are that his orbit is about five times larger than that of the earth. In consequence also of his greater distance from the sun, he moves much more slowly than the earth. His average velocity is about eight miles a second. It requires more than four thousand days, or nearly twelve of our years, for him to make one revolution around the sun, and he thus consumes more than ten thousand of his own days. He travels through about one sign of the zodiac each year, and is thus not very difficult to keep trace of, since the signs and the constellations of the zodiac so nearly coincide. His synodic period, or the period from one opposition to another, is a fraction less than three hundred and ninety-nine days, or about one year and a little more than a month. His daily motion in the skies is almost too small for us to detect it without observation for more than a day. It is in one day about equal to one-sixth of the apparent diameter of the moon; but in a month he has moved a distance about half as great as that between the two pointers in the Big Dipper, as can be easily seen by comparison with the stars near him.

JUPITER’S PLACE IN THE SKY