Eureka: A Prose Poem — Edgar A. Poe, 1848 — reading text

been known to fly, could not traverse the latter interval in less than 20 years ; while for the former it would require 590. Our Moon's real diameter is 2160 miles ; yet she is comparatively so trifling an object that it would take nearly 50 such orbs to compose one as great as the Earth. The diameter of our own globe is 7912 miles — but from the enunciation of these numbers what positive idea do we derive ? If we ascend an ordinary mountain and look around us from its summit, we behold a landscape stretching, say 40 miles, in every direction ; forming a circle 250 miles in cir cumference ; and including an area of 5000 square miles. THE UNIVERSE. 109 The extent of such a prospect, on account of the succes siveness with which its portions necessarily present them selves to view, can be only very feebly and very partially appreciated : — yet the entire panorama would comprehend no more than one 40,000th part of the mere surface of our globe. Were this panorama, then, to be succeeded, after the lapse of an hour, by another of equal extent ; this again by a third, after the lapse of another hour ; this again by a fourth after lapse of another hour — and so on, until the scenery of the whole Earth were exhausted ; and were we to be engaged in examining these various panoramas for twelve hours of every day ; we should nevertheless, be 9 years and 48 days in completing the general survey. But if the mere surface of the Earth eludes the grasp of the imagination, what are we to think of its cubical con tents ? it embraces a mass of matter equal in weight to at least 2 sextillions, 200 quintillions of tons. Let us sup pose it in a state of quiescence ; and now let us endeavor to conceive a mechanical force sufficient to set it in mo tion ! Not the strength of all the myriads of -beings whom we may conclude to inhabit the planetary worlds of our system — not the combined physical strength of all these beings — even admitting all to be more powerful than man — would avail to stir the ponderous mass a single inch from its position. What are we to understand, then, of the force, which under similar circumstances, would be required to move the largest of our planets, Jupiter ? This is 86,000 miles in diameter, and would include within its periphery more than a thousand orbs of the magnitude of our own. Yet 110 E U II E K A. this stupendous body is actually flying around the Sun at the rate of 29,000 miles an hour — that is to say, with a velocity 40 times greater than that of a cannon-ball ! The thought of such a phenomenon cannot well be said to startle the mind : — it palsies and appals it. Not unfre- quently we task our imagination in picturing the capacities of an angel. Let us fancy such a being at a distance of some hundred miles from Jupiter — a close eye-witness of this planet as it speeds on its annual revolution. Now can we, I demand, fashion for ourselves any conception so distinct of this ideal being's spiritual exaltation, as that in volved in the supposition that, even by this immeasurable mass of matter, whirled immediately before his eyes, with a velocity so unutterable, he — an angel — angelic though he be — is not at once struck into nothingness and over whelmed ? At this point, however, it seems proper to suggest that, in fact, we have been speaking of comparative trifles. Our Sun, the central and controlling orb of the system to which Jupiter belongs, is not only greater than Jupiter, but greater by far than all the planets of the system taken together. This fact is an essential condition, indeed, of the stability of the system itself. The diameter of Jupiter has been mentioned : — it is 86,000 miles :— that of the Sun is 882,000 miles. An inhabitant of the latter, travelling 90 miles a day, would be more than 80 years in going round a great circle of its circumference. It occupies a cubical space of 681 quadrillions, 472 trillions of miles. The Moon, as has been stated, revolves about the Earth at a distance of 237,000 miles — in an orbit, consequently, of nearly a mil- THE UNIVERSE. Ill lion and a half. Now, were the Sun placed upon the Earth, centre over centre, the body of the former would extend, in every direction, not only to the line of the Moon's orbit, but beyond it, a distance of 200,000 miles. And here, once again, let me suggest that, in fact, we have still been speaking of comparative trifles. The dis tance of the planet Neptune from the Sun has been stated : — it is 28 hundred millions of miles ; the circumference of its orbit, therefore, is about 17 billions. Let this be borne in mind while we glance at some one of the brightest stars. Between this and the star of our system, (the Sun,) there is a gulf of space, to convey any idea of which we should need the tongue of an archangel. From our system, then, and from our Sun, or star, the star at which we suppose ourselves glancing is a thing altogether apart : — still, for the moment, let us imagine it placed upon our Sun, centre over centre, as we just now imagined this Sun itself placed upon the Earth. Let us now conceive the particular star we have in mind, extending, in every direction, beyond the orbit of Mercury — of Venus — of the Earth : — still on, be yond the orbit of Mars — of Jupiter — of Uranus — until, finally, we fancy it filling the circle — 17 billions of miles in circumference — which is described by the revolution of Leverrier's planet. When we have conceived all this, we shall have entertained no extravagant conception. There is the very best reason for believing that many of the stars are even far larger than the one we have imagined. I mean to say that we have the very best empirical basis for such belief : — and, in looking back at the original, atomic arrangements for diversity, which have been assumed as a 112 EUREKA. part of the Divine plan in the constitution of the Universe, we shall be enabled easily to understand, and to credit, the existence of even far vaster disproportions in stellar size than any to which I have hitherto alluded. The largest orbs, of course, we must expect to find rolling through the widest vacancies of Space. I remarked, just now, that to convey an idea of the in terval between our Sun and any one of the other stars, we should require the eloquence of an archangel. In so say ing, I should not be accused of exaggeration ; for, in simple truth, these are topics on which it is scarcely possible to exaggerate. But let us bring the matter more distinctly before the eye of the mind. In the first place, we may get a general, relative con ception of the interval referred to, by comparing it with the inter-planetary spaces. If, for example, we suppose the Earth, which is, in reality, 95 millions of miles from the Sun, to be only one foot from that luminary ; then Neptune would be 40 feet distant ; and the star Alpha Lyrce, at the very least, 159. Now I presume that, in the termination of my last sen tence, few of my readers have noticed anything especially objectionable — particularly wrong. I said that the distance of the Earth from the Sun being taken at one foot, the distance of Neptune would be 40 feet, and that of Alpha Lyras, 159. The proportion between one foot and 159 has appeared, perhaps, to convey a sufficiently definite impression of the proportion between the two intervals — that of the Earth from the Sun and that of Alpha Lyras from the same lumi nary. But my account of the matter should, in reality, THE UNIVERSE. 113 have run thus : — The distance of the Earth from the Sun being taken at one foot, the distance of Neptune would be 40 feet, and that of Alpha Lyrae, 159 miles: — that is to say, 1 had assigned to Alpha Lyra?, in my first statement of the case, only the 5280th part of that distance which is the least distance possible at which it can actually lie. To proceed : — However distant a mere planet is, yet when we look at it through a telescope, we see it under a certain form — of a certain appreciable size. Now I have already hinted at the probable bulk of many of the stars ; nevertheless, when we view any one of them, even through the most powerful telescope, it is found to present us with no form, and consequently with no magnitude whatever. We see it as a point and nothing more. Again ; — Let us suppose ourselves walking, at night, on a highway. In a field on one side of the road, is a line of tall objects, say trees, the figures of which are distinctly defined against the background of the sky. This line of objects extends at right angles to the road, and from the road to the horizon. Now, as we proceed along the road, we see these objects changing their positions, respectively, in relation to a certain fixed point in that portion of the firmament which forms the background of the view. Let us suppose this fixed point — sufficiently fixed for our pur pose — to be the rising moon. We become aware, at once, that while the tree nearest us so far alters its position in respect to the moon, as to seem flying behind us, the tree in the extreme distance has scarcely changed at all its rela tive position with the satellite. We then go on to perceive that the farther the objects are from us, the less they alter 114 EUREKA. their positions ; and the converse. Then we begin, unwit tingly, to estimate the distances of individual trees by the degrees in which they evince the relative alteration. Fi nally, we come to understand how it might be possible to ascertain the actual distance of any given tree in the line, by using the amount of relative alteration as a basis in a simple geometrical problem. Now this relative alteration is what we call " parallax ;" and by parallax we calculate the distances of the heavenly bodies. Applying the princi ple to the trees in question, we should, of course, be very much at a loss to comprehend the distance of that tree, which, however far we proceeded along the road, should evince no parallax at all. This, in the case described, is a thing impossible ; but impossible only because all distances on our Earth are trivial indeed : — in comparison with the vast cosmical quantities, we may speak