XXIII 

 ABOUT THE STARS 



THE young astronomer in Two on a Tower that 

 bitter-sweet story in which our great novelist 

 Hardy tells of the weird fascination with which the study 

 of the stars appeals to a sensitive nature, exclaims : " The 

 imaginary picture of the sky as the concavity of a dome 

 whose base extends from horizon to horizon of our earth, 

 is grand, simply grand, and I wish I had never got beyond 

 looking at it in that way. But the actual sky is a horror." 

 " There is," he continues, " a size at which dignity begins ; 

 further on there is a size at which grandeur begins ; further 

 on there is a size at which solemnity begins ; further on a 

 size at which awfulness begins ; further on a size at which 

 ghastliness begins. That size faintly approaches the size 

 of the stellar universe." " If you are cheerful and wish to 

 remain so," he concludes, " leave the study of astronomy 

 alone. Of all the sciences, it alone deserves the character 

 of the terrible. If, on the other hand, you are restless and 

 anxious about the future, study astronomy at once your 

 troubles will be reduced amazingly. But your study will 

 reduce them in a singular way, by reducing the importance 

 of everything, so that the science is still terrible, even as a 

 panacea." The facts revealed by the study of astronomy 

 which have this feature of ghastliness and terror relate to 

 the enormous distances in space at which the stars are 

 placed, and to their enormous number. 



