Astronomy for Amateurs by Camille Flammarion (mini ebook reader .TXT) π
* * * * *
For the rest, my little book is dedicated to a woman, muse and goddess--the charming enchantress Urania, fit companion of Venus, ranking even above her in the c
Read free book Β«Astronomy for Amateurs by Camille Flammarion (mini ebook reader .TXT) πΒ» - read online or download for free at americanlibrarybooks.com
- Author: Camille Flammarion
- Performer: -
Read book online Β«Astronomy for Amateurs by Camille Flammarion (mini ebook reader .TXT) πΒ». Author - Camille Flammarion
To facilitate the observation of stars of varying brilliancy, they have been classified in order of magnitude, according to their apparent brightness, and since the dimensions of these distant suns are almost wholly unknown to us, the most luminous stars were naturally denoted as of first magnitude, those which were a little less bright of the second, and so on. But in reality this word "magnitude" is quite erroneous, for it bears no relation to the mass of the stars, divided thus at an epoch when it was supposed that the most brilliant must be the largest. It simply indicates the apparent brightness of a star, the real brilliancy depending on its dimensions, its intrinsic light, and its distance from our planet.
And now to make some comparison between the different orders. Throughout the entire firmament, only nineteen stars of first magnitude are discoverable. And, strictly speaking, the last of this series might just as well be noted of "second magnitude," while the first of the second series might be added to the list of stars of the "first order." But in order to form classes distinct from one another, some limit has to be adopted, and it was determined that the first series should include only the following stars, the most luminous in the Heavens, which are subjoined in order of decreasing brilliancy.
STARS OF THE FIRST MAGNITUDE
THE STARS OF THE SECOND MAGNITUDE
Then come the stars of the second magnitude, of which there are fifty-nine. The stars of the Great Bear (with the exception of Ξ΄, which is of third magnitude), the Pole-Star, the chief stars in Orion (after Rigel and Betelgeuse), of the Lion, of Pegasus, of Andromeda, of Cassiopeia, are of this order. These, with the former, constitute the principal outlines of the constellations visible to us.
Then follow the third and fourth magnitudes, and so on.
The following table gives a summary of the series, down to the sixth magnitude, which is the limit of visibility for the unaided human eye:
This makes a total of some seven thousand stars visible to the unaided eye. It will be seen that each series is, roughly speaking, three times as populated as that preceding it; consequently, if we multiply the number of any class by three, we obtain the approximate number of stars that make up the class succeeding it.
Seven thousand stars! It is an imposing figure, when one reflects that all these lucid points are suns, as enormous as they are potent, as incandescent as our own (which exceeds the volume of the Earth by more than a million times), distant centers of light and heat, exerting their attraction on unknown systems. And yet it is generally imagined that millions of stars are visible in the firmament. This is an illusion; even the best vision is unable to distinguish stars below the sixth magnitude, and ordinary sight is far from discovering all of these.
Again, seven thousand stars for the whole Heavens makes only three thousand five hundred for half the sky. And we can only see one celestial hemisphere at a time. Moreover, toward the horizon, the vapor of the atmosphere veils the little stars of sixth magnitude. In reality, we never see at a given moment more than three thousand stars. This number is below that of the population of a small town.
But celestial space is unlimited, and we must not suppose that these seven thousand stars that fascinate our eyes and enrich our Heavens, without which our nights would be black, dark, and empty,[5] comprise the whole of Creation. They only represent the vestibule of the temple.
Where our vision is arrested, a larger, more powerful eye, that is developing from century to century, plunges its analyzing gaze into the abysses, and reflects back to the insatiable curiosity of science the light of the innumerable suns that it discovers. This eye is the lens of the optical instruments. Even opera-glasses disclose stars of the seventh magnitude. A small astronomical objective penetrates to the eighth and ninth orders. More powerful instruments attain the tenth. The Heavens are progressively transformed to the eye of the astronomer, and soon he is able to reckon hundreds of thousands of orbs in the night. The evolution continues, the power of the instrument is developed; and the stars of the eleventh and twelfth magnitudes are discovered successively, and together number four millions. Then follow the thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth magnitudes. This is the sequence:
Accordingly, the most powerful telescopes of the day, reenforced by celestial photography, can bring a stream of more than 120 millions of stars into the scope of our vision.
The photographic map of the Heavens now being executed comprises the first fourteen magnitudes, and will give the precise position of some 40,000,000 stars, distributed over 22,054 sheets, forming a sphere 3 meters 44 centimeters in diameter.
The boldest imagination is overwhelmed by these figures, and fails to picture such millions of sunsβformidable and burning globes that roll through space, sweeping their systems along with them. What furnaces are there! what unknown lives! what vast immensities!
And again, what enormous distances must separate the stars, to admit of their free revolution in the ether! In what abysses, at what a distance from our terrestrial atom, must these magnificent and dazzling Suns pursue the paths traced for them by Destiny!
If all the stars radiated an equal light, their distances might be calculated on the principle that an object appears smaller in proportion to its distance. But this equality does not exist. The suns were not all cast in the same mold.
Indeed, the stars differ widely in size and brightness, and the distances that have been measured show that the most brilliant are not the nearest. They are scattered through Space at all distances.
Among the nearer stars of which it has been found possible to calculate the distance, some are found to be of the fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth, and even ninth magnitudes, proving that the most brilliant are not always the least distant.
For the rest, among the beautiful and shining stars with which we made acquaintance in the last chapter may be cited Sirius, which at a distance of 92 trillion kilometers (57 trillion miles) from here still dazzles us with its burning fires; Procyon or Ξ± of the Little Dog, as remote as 112 trillion kilometers (691β2 trillion miles); AltaΓ―r of the Eagle, at 160 trillion kilometers (99 trillion miles); the white Vega, at 204 trillion kilometers (1261β2 trillion miles); Capella, at 276 trillion kilometers (171 trillion miles); and the Pole-Star at 344 trillion kilometers (2131β2 trillion miles). The light that flies through Space at a velocity of 300,000 kilometers (186,000 miles) per second, takes thirty-six years and a half to reach us from this distant sun: i.e., the luminous ray we are now receiving from Polaris has been traveling for more than the third of a century. When you, gentle reader, were born, the ray that arrives to-day from the Pole-Star was already speeding on its way. In the first second after it had started it traveled 300,000 kilometers; in the second it added another 300,000 which at once makes 600,000 kilometers; add another 300,000 kilometers for the third second, and so on during the thirty-six years and a half.
If we tried to arrange the number 300,000 (which represents the distance accomplished in one second) in superposed rows, as if for an addition sum, as many times as is necessary to obtain the distance that separates the Pole-Star from our Earth, the necessary operation would comprise 1,151,064,000 rows, and the sheet of paper required for the setting out of such a sum would measure approximately 11,510 kilometers (about 7,000 miles), i.e., almost the diameter of our terrestrial globe, or about four times the distance from Paris to Moscow!
Is it not impossible to realize that our Sun, with its entire system, is lost in the Heavens at such a distance from his peers in Space? At the distance of the least remote of the stars he would appear as one of the smallest.
The nearest star to us is Ξ± of the Centaur, of first magnitude, a neighbor of the South Pole, invisible in our latitudes. Its distance is 275,000 radii of the terrestrial orbit, i.e., 275,000 times 149 million kilometers, which gives 41 trillions, or 41,000 milliards of kilometers (= 251β2 trillion miles). [A milliard = 1,000 millions, the French billion. A trillion = 1,000 milliards, or a million millions, the English billion. The French nomenclature has been retained by the translator.] At a speed of 300,000 kilometers (186,000 miles) per second the light takes four years to come from thence. It is a fine double star.
The next nearest star after this is a little orb invisible to the unaided eye. It has no name, and stands as No. 21,185 in the Catalogue of Lalande. It almost attains the seventh magnitude (6.8). Its distance is 64 trillion kilometers (391β2 trillion miles).
The third of which the distance has been measured is the small star in Cygnus, already referred to in Chapter II, in describing the Constellations. Its distance is 69 trillion kilometers (421β2 trillion miles). This, too, is a double star. The light takes seven years to reach us.
As we have seen, the fine stars Sirius, Procyon, Aldebaran, AltaΓ―r, Vega, and Capella are more remote.
Our solar system is thus very isolated in the vastness of Infinitude. The latest known planet of our system, Neptune, performs its revolutions in space at 4 milliards, 470 million kilometers (2,771,400,000 miles) from our Sun. Even this is a respectable distance! But beyond this world, an immense gulf, almost a void abyss, extends to the nearest star, Ξ± of the Centaur. Between Neptune and Centauris there is no star to cheer the black and cold solitude of the immense vacuum. One or two unknown planets, some wandering comets, and swarms of meteors, doubtless traverse those unknown spaces, but all invisible to us.
Later on we will discuss the methods that have been employed in measuring these distances. Let us now continue our description.
Now that we have some notion of the distance of the stars we must approach them with the telescope, and compare them one with another.
Let us, for example, get close to Sirius: in this star we admire
Comments (0)