composed of arid sand, as the first astronomer maintained?
Or are they nothing but immense forests, according to M. Warren
de la Rue’s opinion, who gives the moon an atmosphere, though
a very low and a very dense one? That we shall know by and by.
We must affirm nothing until we are in a position to do so.”
This “Sea of Clouds” is rather doubtfully marked out upon the maps.
It is supposed that these vast plains are strewn with blocks of
lava from the neighboring volcanoes on its right, Ptolemy,
Purbach, Arzachel. But the projectile was advancing, and sensibly
nearing it. Soon there appeared the heights which bound this sea
at this northern limit. Before them rose a mountain radiant with
beauty, the top of which seemed lost in an eruption of solar rays.
“That is–?” asked Michel.
“Copernicus,” replied Barbicane.
“Let us see Copernicus.”
This mount, situated in 9@ north latitude and 20@ east
longitude, rose to a height of 10,600 feet above the surface of
the moon. It is quite visible from the earth; and astronomers
can study it with ease, particularly during the phase between
the last quarter and the new moon, because then the shadows are
thrown lengthways from east to west, allowing them to measure
the heights.
This Copernicus forms the most important of the radiating
system, situated in the southern hemisphere, according to Tycho
Brahe. It rises isolated like a gigantic lighthouse on that
portion of the “Sea of Clouds,” which is bounded by the “Sea of
Tempests,” thus lighting by its splendid rays two oceans at
a time. It was a sight without an equal, those long luminous
trains, so dazzling in the full moon, and which, passing the
boundary chain on the north, extends to the “Sea of Rains.”
At one o’clock of the terrestrial morning, the projectile,
like a balloon borne into space, overlooked the top of this
superb mount. Barbicane could recognize perfectly its
chief features. Copernicus is comprised in the series of
ringed mountains of the first order, in the division of
great circles. Like Kepler and Aristarchus, which overlook
the “Ocean of Tempests,” sometimes it appeared like a brilliant
point through the cloudy light, and was taken for a volcano
in activity. But it is only an extinct one– like all on that
side of the moon. Its circumference showed a diameter of about
twenty-two leagues. The glasses discovered traces of
stratification produced by successive eruptions, and the
neighborhood was strewn with volcanic remains which still choked
some of the craters.
“There exist,” said Barbicane, “several kinds of circles on the
surface of the moon, and it is easy to see that Copernicus
belongs to the radiating class. If we were nearer, we should
see the cones bristling on the inside, which in former times
were so many fiery mouths. A curious arrangement, and one
without an exception on the lunar disc, is that the interior
surface of these circles is the reverse of the exterior, and
contrary to the form taken by terrestrial craters. It follows,
then, that the general curve of the bottom of these circles
gives a sphere of a smaller diameter than that of the moon.”
“And why this peculiar disposition?” asked Nicholl.
“We do not know,” replied Barbicane.
“What splendid radiation!” said Michel. “One could hardly see
a finer spectacle, I think.”
“What would you say, then,” replied Barbicane, “if chance should
bear us toward the southern hemisphere?”
“Well, I should say that it was still more beautiful,” retorted
Michel Ardan.
At this moment the projectile hung perpendicularly over the circle.
The circumference of Copernicus formed almost a perfect circle,
and its steep escarpments were clearly defined. They could even
distinguish a second ringed enclosure. Around spread a grayish
plain, of a wild aspect, on which every relief was marked in yellow.
At the bottom of the circle, as if enclosed in a jewel case,
sparkled for one instant two or three eruptive cones, like enormous
dazzling gems. Toward the north the escarpments were lowered by a
depression which would probably have given access to the interior
of the crater.
In passing over the surrounding plains, Barbicane noticed a
great number of less important mountains; and among others a