Curiosities of the Sky by Garrett P. Serviss (mind reading books TXT) 📕

Another, called “Theophilus,” has a diameter of sixty-four miles, and is eighteen thousand feet deep. There are hundreds from ten to forty miles in diameter, and thousands from one to ten miles. They are so numerous in many places that they break into one another, like the cells of a crushed honeycomb.

The lunar craters differ from those of the earth more fundamentally than in the matter of mere size; they are not situated on the tops of mountains. If they were, and if all the proportions were the same, a crater like Tycho might crown a conical peak fifty or one hundred miles high! Instead of being cavities in the summits of mountains, the lunar craters are rather gigantic sink-holes whose bottoms in many cases lie two or three miles below the general surface of the lunar world. Around their rims the rocks are piled up to a height of from a few hundred to two or three thousand feet, with a comparatively gentle inclination, but on the inner side they fall away in gigantic broken precipices which make the dizzy cliffs of the Matterhorn seem but “lover’s leaps.” Down they drop, ridge below ridge, crag under crag, tottering wall beneath wall, until, in a crater named “Newton,” near the south lunar pole, they attain a depth where the rays of the sun never reach. Nothing more frightful than the spectacle which many of these terrible chasms present can be pictured by the imagination. As the lazy lunar day slowly advances, the sunshine, unmitigated by clouds or atmospheric veil of any kind, creeps across their rims and begins to descend the opposite walls. Presently it strikes the ragged crest of a ridge which had lain hidden in such darkness as we never know on the earth, and runs along it like a line of kindling fire.

Rocky pinnacles and needles shoot up into the sunlight out of the black depths. Down sinks the line of light, mile after mile, and continually new precipices and cliffs are brought into view, until at last the vast floor is attained and begins to be illuminated. In the meanwhile the sun’s rays, darting across the gulf, have touched the summits of the central peaks, twenty or thirty miles from the crater’s inmost edge, and they immediately kindle and blaze like huge stars amid the darkness. So profound are some of these awful craters that days pass before the sun has risen high enough above them to chase the last shadows from their depths.

Although several long ranges of mountains resembling those of the earth exist on the moon, the great majority of its elevations assume the crateriform aspect. Sometimes, instead of a crater, we find an immense mountain ring whose form and aspect hardly suggest volcanic action. But everywhere the true craters are in evidence, even on the sea-beds, although they attain their greatest number and size on those parts of the moon — covering sixty per cent of its visible surface —

which are distinctly mountainous in character and which constitute its most brilliant portions. Broadly speaking, the southwestern half of the moon is the most mountainous and broken, and the northeastern half the least so. Right down through the center, from pole to pole, runs a wonderful line of craters and crateriform valleys of a magnitude stupendous even for the moon. Another similar line follows the western edge. Three or four “seas” are thrust between these mountainous belts. By the effects of “libration” parts of the opposite hemisphere of the moon which is turned away from the earth are from time to time brought into view, and their aspect indicates that that hemisphere resembles in its surface features the one which faces the earth. There are many things about the craters which seem to give some warrant for the hypothesis which has been particularly urged by Mr G.

K. Gilbert, that they were formed by the impact of meteors; but there are also many things which militate against that idea, and, upon the whole, the volcanic theory of their origin is to be preferred.

The enormous size of the lunar volcanoes is not so difficult to account for when we remember how slight is the force of lunar gravity as compared with that of the earth. With equal size and density, bodies on the moon weigh only one-sixth as much as on the earth.

Impelled by the same force, a projectile that would go ten miles on the earth would go sixty miles on the moon. A lunar giant thirty-five feet tall would weigh no more than an ordinary son of Adam weighs on his greater planet. To shoot a body from the earth so that it would not drop back again, we should have to start it with a velocity of seven miles per second; a mile and a half per second would serve on the moon. It is by no means difficult to believe, then, that a lunar volcano might form a crater ring eight or ten times broader than the greatest to be found on the earth, especially when we reflect that in addition to the relatively slight force of gravity, the materials of the lunar crust are probably lighter than those of our terrestrial rocks.

For similar reasons it seems not impossible that the theory mentioned in a former chapter — that some of the meteorites that have fallen upon the earth originated from the lunar volcanoes — is well founded.

This would apply especially to the stony meteorites, for it is hardly to be supposed that the moon, at least in its superficial parts, contains much iron. It is surely a scene most strange that is thus presented to the mind’s eye — that little attendant of the earth’s (the moon has only one-fiftieth of the volume, and only one-eightieth of the mass of the earth) firing great stones back at its parent planet! And what can have been the cause of this furious outbreak of volcanic forces on the moon? Evidently it was but a passing stage in its history; it had enjoyed more quiet times before. As it cooled down from the plastic state in which it parted from the earth, it became incrusted after the normal manner of a planet, and then oceans were formed, its atmosphere being sufficiently dense to prevent the water from evaporating and the would-be oceans from disappearing continually in mist. This, if any, must have been the period of life in the lunar world. As we look upon the vestiges of that ancient world buried in the wreck that now covers so much of its surface, it is difficult to restrain the imagination from picturing the scenes which were once presented there; and, in such a case, should the imagination be fettered? We give it free rein in terrestrial life, and it rewards us with some of our greatest intellectual pleasures. The wonderful landscapes of the moon offer it an ideal field with just enough half-hidden suggestions of facts to stimulate its powers.

The great plains of the Mare Imbrium and the Mare Serenitatis (the “Sea of Showers” and the “Sea of Serenity”), bordered in part by lofty mountain ranges precisely like terrestrial mountains, scalloped along their shores with beautiful bays curving back into the adjoining highlands, and united by a great strait passing between the nearly abutting ends of the “Lunar Apennines” and the “Lunar Caucasus,”

offer the elements of a scene of world beauty such as it would be difficult to match upon our planet. Look at the finely modulated bottom of the ancient sea in Mr Ritchey’s exquisite photograph of the western part of the Mare Serenitatis, where one seems to see the play of the watery currents heaping the ocean sands in waving lines, making shallows, bars, and deeps for the mariner to avoid or seek, and affording a playground for the creatures of the main. What geologist would not wish to try his hammer on those rocks with their stony pages of fossilized history? There is in us an instinct which forbids us to think that there was never any life there. If we could visit the moon, there is not among us a person so prosaic and unimaginative that he would not, the very first thing, begin to search for traces of its inhabitants. We would look for them in the deposits on the sea bottoms; we would examine the shores wherever the configuration seemed favorable for harbors and the sites of maritime cities — forgetting that it may be a little ridiculous to ascribe to the ancient lunarians the same ideas that have governed the development of our race; we would search through the valleys and along the seeming courses of vanished streams; we would explore the mountains, not the terrible craters, but the pinnacled chains that recall our own Alps and Rockies; seeking everywhere some vestige of the transforming presence of intelligent life. Perhaps we should find such traces, and perhaps, with all our searching, we should find nothing to suggest that life had ever existed amid that universal ruin.

Look again at the border of the “Sea of Serenity” — what a name for such a scene! — and observe how it has been rent with almost inconceivable violence, the wall of the colossal crater Posidonius dropping vertically upon the ancient shore and obliterating it, while its giant neighbor, Le Monnier, opens a yawning mouth as if to swallow the sea itself. A scene like this makes one question whether, after all, those may not be right who have imagined that the so-called sea bottoms are really vast plains of frozen lava which gushed up in floods so extensive that even the mighty volcanoes were half drowned in the fiery sea. This suggestion becomes even stronger when we turn to another of the photographs of Mr Ritchey’s wonderful series, showing a part of the Mare Tranquilitatis (“Sea of Tranquility”!).

Notice how near the center of the picture the outline of a huge ring with radiating ridges shows through the sea bottom; a fossil volcano submerged in a petrified ocean! This is by no means the only instance in which a buried world shows itself under the great lunar plains.

Yet, as the newer craters in the sea itself prove, the volcanic activity survived this other catastrophe, or broke out again subsequently, bringing more ruin to pile upon ruin.

Yet notwithstanding the evidence which we have just been considering in support of the hypothesis that the “seas” are lava floods, Messrs. Loewy and Puiseux, the selenographers of the Paris Observatory, are convinced that these great plains bear characteristic marks of the former presence of immense bodies of water. In that case we should be forced to conclude that the later oceans of the moon lay upon vast sheets of solidified lava; and thus the catastrophe of the lunar world assumes a double aspect, the earliest oceans being swallowed up in molten floods issuing from the interior, while the lands were reduced to chaos by a universal eruption of tremendous