Part 10

It is probable that Mercury has no alternations of light and darkness, causing day and night such as we know them. That is, the planet does not rotate on its axis in such a way as to turn first one side and then the other toward the sun as the earth does. In this, as in some other things, Mercury must accept the fate that overtakes many other small bodies which revolve around large ones--that of our moon, for instance, and the satellites of some of the other planets. Working under the law of gravitation, which gives such power to the large bodies, the sun has so retarded the rotation of Mercury that the planet now makes but one rotation on its axis during one circuit around that central body, and so keeps always the same face toward the sun. Some astronomers do not regard this as having been wholly proved; but all the later observations of Mercury strongly indicate that it is the fact, and it is coming to be more and more regarded as established.

But, even if this is the predicament into which Mercury has come, the planet is probably not in so bad a plight as many another body to which the same sort of thing has happened. The extreme eccentricity of his orbit, which has given him the true mercurial temperament, resulting in sprightliness, agility, and changeableness, is accountable for some mitigating circumstances. The sun may hold him so that he cannot turn his face away from that luminary; but it cannot keep him from rotating on his axis at a uniform rate of speed, and from this, combined with the vagaries caused by his eccentric orbit, come some interesting things.

Since Mercury is less than two-thirds as far from the sun at perihelion as he is at aphelion, there is a corresponding variation in his rate of speed. When he is nearest the sun, at perihelion, he darts along at the rate of thirty-five miles a second; at aphelion, when he is farthest from the sun, he travels only twenty-three miles a second. Twenty-three miles in one second is not exactly a snail’s pace, terrestrially considered, and it is faster than the earth moves at any time; but the planet was named Mercury because of his swiftness, and we would not expect much lagging even when he is moving at his slowest gait. This difference in speed in different parts of his orbit causes what is called the librations of Mercury. When he is traveling at his swiftest pace he gets a little ahead of his rotation, the speed of which is uniform, and thus throws the sunlight somewhat farther around on one side. When his speed decreases, he falls behind his time of rotation, and thus gets a little more sunlight on the other side. Thus, during each revolution he juggles the sunlight a little farther around him than he could if he were a more steady-going planet.

These librations result in there being two strips on the surface of Mercury--one on each side--which undoubtedly have a day and night, varying in length in the different parts of the strips. The part that lies nearest the illuminated side of the planet has alternate periods of sunlight and darkness, each of considerable duration, while that part nearest the dark side has merely a glimmer of sunlight every eighty-eight days, which is Mercury’s sidereal year, or the time required for him to make one revolution around the sun. These two strips on which the light varies comprise about one-eighth of the surface of Mercury. One half of his entire surface is always light, and of the other three-eighths are always dark. It is this dark, cold side that is turned toward us when Mercury is nearest to us.

It is possible that on those parts of Mercury where the sunlight and darkness are unstable there may be something resembling a tolerable temperature. They are something more than a thousand miles in breadth, and perhaps near the center of them the sun may give heat sufficient to enliven and yet not burn. More than likely, they are alternately scorched and frozen. For it takes more than the mere presence of sunlight to make a climate tolerable. Atmosphere is what is necessary, and we have seen that Mercury has probably lost practically all his atmosphere long, long ago. An atmosphere absorbs much of the radiant energy that comes from the sun before it reaches the more solid parts of a planet, and it also acts as a blanket in preventing the too rapid escape of such heat as the planet may have acquired. Thus it has the doubly beneficent office of tempering the rays that would otherwise be scorching and of hindering a radiation that would leave the planet stiffened and frozen.

Stiffened and frozen is what the dark side of Mercury undoubtedly is. The sun has never shone upon it since Mercury became a solid body. All the inherent heat it had has long since passed off into space, and its temperature must be somewhere near the absolute zero. The absolute zero is the point in temperature where all known substances become solid. It is more than 450° below the Fahrenheit zero, or more than 350° lower than any temperature recorded in our arctic regions--a degree of cold unthinkable to any but the scientist.

On the other side of Mercury the heat is beyond anything we have any notion of. With an equal atmosphere it would receive from the sun six thousand times as much light and heat as Neptune on an equal space, and, on an average, seven times as much as the earth. At Mercury’s distance from the sun his hot side would be more than 300° above zero, if there were absolutely no atmospheric protection. Even though tempered by a thin atmosphere, as it may be, the heat on this side is still probably enough to boil away any water that might be there and to change some other substances from what we regard as their normal state.

Stability, at least, is a quality of the hot and the cold side of Mercury. Scorched and seared and desolate of life, as we know it, the one side lies under a blazing, dazzling sun. Cold and hard and bleak, and no less desolate, the other side turns its face toward the darkness of space. Thus they will remain until the end of time. And let us hope that, when the final catastrophe occurs and a new nebula is formed, the matter composing Mercury may find a place in a larger mass, and in its new incarnation have a fuller and larger life.

It is the atmosphere also which causes twilight, as well as the gradual changing from heat to cold. With no atmosphere, we would drop from full daylight to the darkness of starlight at the setting of the sun. So, with the thin air that Mercury probably has (if he has any), the two zones which are alternately light and dark, and hot and cold, are not much better off than the parts which are permanently either light or dark. They are plunged alternately from the temperature and light of the hot side of Mercury to the temperature of the cold side, with few gradations to prepare them for such extremes. Thus the only part of the planet that might be expected to have any variations of seasons fulfils the expectation with little satisfaction.

The only changes in climate which may have an appreciable effect are mainly those caused by the eccentricity of Mercury’s orbit, which carries him so near the sun at certain times and so comparatively far away at others. When he is nearest the sun he receives more than twice as much heat and light as when he is farthest away. At aphelion he receives four times as much heat and light as the earth. At perihelion the amount of heat and light is increased to more than nine times that of the earth. Since it takes Mercury a little more than twelve weeks to make one revolution around the sun, he passes from nearest distance to farthest, or the reverse, every six weeks. And thus, as viewed from the planet, the sun expands gradually for six weeks until it has increased its diameter two and one-half times, and the next six weeks it diminishes in the same proportion. At such times, of course, the amount of heat is more or less according to the planet’s distance from the sun; but all the time it is very great.

Moreover, it is believed that the axis on which Mercury rotates stands perpendicular to his orbit. This being the case, there would be on Mercury no change of seasons such as the earth has. The earth’s axis is inclined a little more than twenty-three degrees to its orbit, and from this we get the sun’s rays in a great variety of directions and different degrees of obliquity, causing the seasons, as we know them, in grateful variation. With the axis perpendicular, as it probably is in the case of Mercury, the sun’s rays fall on the face of the planet always with the same degree of directness, the only relief from their greatest heat being when the planet backs away from the sun every six weeks, and when in his librations he turns first one sun-burned cheek and then the other toward the coolness of space.

Thus we must regard the smallest of our family of planets, Mercury, as always the dwarf among us, with never a fair chance to develop a rich and luscious life according to our ideas of such a life. Beaten by the sun’s hard rays, and with no sufficient atmospheric protection; pulling always at his tether, but held firmly with his face to the center; circling at times with mercurial swiftness and thus cheating the sun into sending its rays farther toward the dark, cold side of him than it otherwise would, and with all his defects from a human point of view, we may still regard him as a right merry, roguish little planet, after all. He may be prematurely aged, he may have missed many experiences that the larger planets are having, he may have a long time to wait for the final change that will reunite us all; but he is not lying in sluggish inactivity until it comes.

In view of the fact that he is the only planet that twinkles, may it not suggest, when we see his ruddy face peering through the thick atmospheric mists near our horizon, that the impish little body is winking at us, and that it may be with planets as it is with people: they may not always be in an unfortunate plight because their fate is different from ours?

TRANSITS

Occasionally Mercury passes at inferior conjunction between us and the disc of the sun, appearing like a black spot against the sun, and thus makes what we call a transit. Because the planet is so small, his transit across the sun cannot be seen with the naked eye; but it is an interesting phenomenon to those who can view it with a telescope, though, apparently, astronomers do not regard it as having any great scientific importance. It is during a transit, however, that we watch for confirmation of the theories concerning Mercury’s atmosphere, which, if it were a reality, would show a diffused light about the planet; and until this question is settled beyond any dispute it will always come up at the time of a transit of Mercury. At nearly every transit some observer sees these indications of an atmosphere; but the better the telescope, the less they seem to be seen. Hence it is probable that there is an illusion somewhere either of eye, or instrument, or mind, and that the majority opinion, which accords to Mercury practically no atmosphere, is about the correct one.

These transits occur at intervals of seven, thirteen, or forty-six years, according to the position of the earth. They would occur every time that Mercury passed inferior conjunction if the earth’s orbit and that of Mercury were in exactly the same plane. But the orbit of Mercury, we have seen, is tilted out of the plane of the ecliptic, which marks our orbit, seven degrees, so that the only time the earth and the planet are anywhere nearly in the same plane is when they are at or near the points where their orbits cross each other.

The earth is near the two points where Mercury crosses the ecliptic about May 8th and November 9th, so that transits can occur only near these dates. Mercury passes these points four times every year, or once in each revolution around the sun. But the earth is not always there at the same time, and it is because of this that transits occur only in periods of seven, thirteen, or forty-six years. They occur more frequently in November than in May. The last transit was in November, 1907. The next will be on November 7, 1914, and there will not be another in November until 1927, an interval of thirteen years. But at the point where the May transits occur there will be one on May 7, 1924.

VENUS

Of all the planets lovely Venus is the one that is best known and most admired. It far exceeds all the other planets in brilliancy and beauty when as an evening star it hangs in gracious silvery softness above the sun, which has just passed below the horizon; and it is not less surpassing in loveliness when as a morning star it comes into view shortly before the sun rises, its glowing face still silvery and bright, but yet tinged with the rosy flush of the eastern morning sky.

In either position it never twinkles as Mercury sometimes does, but shines so steadily and softly that at times its disc can almost be seen with the naked eye, and it has such brilliancy that its light can often be seen in the daytime, if one knows when and how to look for the planet. At its brightest it frequently throws a light sufficiently strong to cast a shadow, as one may easily prove by holding a book or some other opaque object between Venus and a white background, such as the wall of a white house. It is six times as bright as the brightest of all the fixed stars, Sirius, the beautiful dog-star, which we see in winter chasing across the southern skies after Orion.

Venus’s superior brilliancy is due in part to the fact that it comes nearer to the earth than any other planet; but it is also intrinsically brighter than any of the others. From equal areas it reflects almost four times as much light as Mercury and three times as much as Mars.

WHEN AND WHERE TO SEE VENUS

When Venus appears in the sky she is not often mistaken for any other planet. Among all the planets she is the most readily recognized and the easiest to find. This is due largely to her extreme brilliancy and a peculiar silvery appearance that none of the other planets have; but also, in part, to her limited range in the sky, and her favorable situation for observation. Unlike Mercury, she is far enough away from the sun to be seen above the horizon for as much as three hours after sunset, and is then sufficiently high in the heavens to be seen free from the vapors of the atmosphere at the horizon. Yet, being one of the inferior planets, with her orbit smaller and nearer the sun than that of the earth, she can never get so far from the sun as to be at any uncomfortable height for viewing, and hence, when she can be seen at all, is always an obvious bit of brilliancy and a joy to the beholder. She is never higher in the sky than forty-five degrees, which is half-way between the horizon and the zenith, and is never farther away from the sun than forty-eight degrees. One frequently sees a bright planet higher up in the heavens than this; but it is never Venus nor Mercury.

We first begin to notice Venus in the evening sky about six weeks after she has passed superior conjunction. She is then very near the sun, and sets a little less than half an hour after sundown. Evening by evening she grows gradually brighter, mounts higher and higher in the sky and, consequently, sets correspondingly later, until in a little more than seven months after superior conjunction, and about six months after we have begun to watch her, she reaches her greatest elongation east from the sun. At that time she is usually somewhere near forty-five degrees above the sun, and is a very lovely and conspicuous object in the evening sky, setting a little more than three hours after sundown.

From this point she begins to travel back toward the sun, still becoming brighter each evening, because she is really coming nearer to us; and in about four or five weeks she attains the greatest brilliancy that she will have as an evening star during the particular revolution she is making. About twelve days after her brightest she will reach the point where she seems to be stationary for a time. This is when she is about to overtake us in our journey around the sun. After a short pause she will move on gradually, her course among the stars then being retrograde or westward; but what we most notice is that she is drawing nearer to the sun, setting earlier each evening, and becoming more and more difficult to see. At the end of about three weeks she is in inferior conjunction, on a line between us and the sun, and invisible. She has run her course as an evening star for nine and a half months, and has been visible anywhere from seven to eight months, the time of her invisibility depending upon the eye of the observer and the conditions of situation and atmosphere.

A week or two later we shall find her a splendid morning star, rising nearly an hour earlier than the sun. About three weeks thereafter she will be at her brightest as a morning star, and will continue to be very brilliant for some weeks. In about five more weeks she will have reached her greatest elongation west of the sun, and will rise about three hours and a half before dawn. Then she will begin to retrace her path, moving eastward, growing smaller all the time as she goes farther away from us, and showing a slower apparent movement, which gives one an agreeable sense of a reluctant parting, until after a little more than seven months she will have reached the sun and will again be in superior conjunction. She has then been a morning star for nine and a half months, and has been visible for about the same length of time that she was when she shone as an evening star.

This is a brief outline of a typical journey of Venus through one synodic revolution. She began one of these journeys on July 5, 1912, being then in superior conjunction. During the autumn of this year and the winter of 1912–13 she may be seen shining with great brilliancy in the west at sunset, and a few hours thereafter. Early in November, 1912, she and Jupiter will both be in Scorpio, where they will approach within two degrees of each other; and there is no doubt that their presence will add much charm to that region of the sky during the entire autumn.

About the middle of February, 1913, Venus will appear half-way up to the zenith at sunset. She will then be at her greatest distance east of the sun, and will be very bright; but, though a little nearer the sun, she will be still brighter shortly after the middle of March. A month later she will be invisible, and inferior conjunction will occur on April 24th. During most of May and all of June and July she will be a morning star, and her brilliant beauty will well repay an early morning outlook. She will get back to superior conjunction on February 11, 1914, and in that year she will be in an ideal situation for us to cultivate a more intimate acquaintance with her. From the latter part of March to November, 1914, she will be the brightest star in the western evening sky, and will do much to enhance the beauty of the pleasant summer evenings of that year. The sturdy, red-faced Mars will meet her on August 5th, a little more than a month before greatest eastern elongation, and might almost kiss her pale cheek as they pass within one-sixth of a degree of each other, a distance equal to less than one-third of the diameter of the moon.