In one of the chapters on the subject of light in Vol. II. the properties of soap bubbles are discussed. It is shown that when a film is stretched across the mouth of a tumbler held in a position so that the film is perpendicular, by the action of gravity (the moisture constantly falling to the lower part of the film) it will continually grow thinner, and horizontal bands of color will appear upon it,—first red, then followed by the other colors of the solar spectrum, ending with violet.
It is also stated that every color of light has a definite wave length. Where a band of blue color appears upon the film we know that its thickness is right for the wave length of that particular color which is reflected from the back of the film to the eye. If we could conceive the blue vault of the heavens to be half a sphere of a soap bubble, the color that the sky would appear to us (if the light could be thrown upon it from beneath) would be determined by the thickness of this film. If the film was 1-156,000 of an inch the sky would be red instead of blue. To reflect the other colors the film would have to grow thinner for each color, in the progression from red to violet. The color of the sky is determined by a light-reflection from minute globules of moisture floating in the air. If the sky is blue, then the globules must be of the right diameter to reflect that color. The various tints and colorings of the sky are determined by what is found in the atmosphere, and this is the reason why skies differ in coloring and tone in different sections of the globe. The finest skies are probably found in semi-tropical regions like southern Italy, Greece, and California.
In 1892 I visited Greece in the early part of June. In crossing the Adriatic, from Brindisi to Patras in Greece, the route was through the Ionian Islands that are grouped along the southwestern shore of Albania. The sky was without a cloud, and its beautiful blue color was reflected in the waters of the Adriatic, and I never shall forget the impression made upon my senses when we first came in sight of the mountains on the west coast of Albania. At this point they rise abruptly from the water and are colored with that peculiar azure haze, mixed with a shading of warmth, which is an effect that distance gives in the classic atmosphere of old Greece. The effect upon the beholder is to intoxicate the senses and to fill him with that deliciously poetic feeling that always comes when standing in the presence of the sublime in nature. It was not the mountains themselves that produced the effect, for I had seen grander than these; but it was the sky on the mountains. When we look at a distant mountain it seems to be partly hidden by a peculiar haze that is the color of the sky at that time; we are really looking at the mountain through a portion of the sky. While in Athens I took a trip to the top of Mount Pentelicus, which separates the plains of Athens on the south from those of Marathon on the north. From the summit of this mountain we have a most wonderful view of the archipelago of the Ægean Sea—a beautiful map of blue water and brown islands that melt together in the distance. At our feet lay the historic plains of Marathon, and in the distance rose the snow-capped peaks of Mount Olympus. It is doubtful if the world furnishes a more beautiful combination of ocean, island, continent, and sky than can be seen from Mount Pentelicus. Myriads of brown islands set in the bluest of water—graceful in outline and multiform in shape—jutting headlands and land-locked harbors—strong in color and outline in the immediate foreground, but gradually melting together in the distance, the brown becoming bluer and the blue a softer blue till the whole is lost on the horizon in a sky that shades back to the zenith in an ever-changing azure that for purity of tone baffles all description.
What wonder that a people born under such skies and whose eyes have feasted on such beauties in nature should conceive and execute such a masterful work of art as the Parthenon! While the variation of landscape, the stretch of water filled with islands, and the mountains capped with eternal snow were a prominent part of the picture, it was the sky with its beautiful color-tones that after all gave it its wonderful charm.
The skies in a northern latitude are colder and grayer, due to the fact that nearly always there is a certain degree of condensation of moisture existing, which, while it does not take the form of a cloud, still gives a toning to the sky.
There is no doubt but that the color-tones of the sky have an influence upon the character and temperament of the people who live under them. Under semi-tropical skies the poetic nature is more strongly appealed to, and a man is more likely to be controlled by his dreamy imaginings than his cold calculations. We find this latter characteristic prevailing to a greater or less extent among the people who live under colder and sterner skies. If all these qualities or influences could be combined in the right way, the race would be stronger intellectually and in other ways. It is always dangerous to a race of people to be developed along certain lines only. The development should be symmetrical. The strongest men are not those who are simply coldly intellectual, neither those who are simply emotional and sentimental, but those in whom heart, mind, and soul are so related that each one of these elements re-enforces and strengthens the others.
At certain seasons of the year and in certain localities it is not uncommon to have wonderfully beautiful displays of coloring upon the skies and clouds at sunset. The question is often asked why we do not see these displays at other times in the day than at sunrise and at sunset—for the same effects are seen in the morning, but they are not noticed so often, because to do so would interfere with the habits of the average man and woman.
The reason for this change of coloring is the angle at which the sun's rays strike the clouds of an evening sky, which are reflected to our eyes. When the sun is high in the heavens it shines against the back of the clouds, from the point of view of a person standing on the surface of the earth. It also shines a shorter distance through the air at midday than at sunset. At sunset the rays are able to shine on the under side of a cloud, especially if it is high in the air. The moisture globules of which the cloud is made up are much larger than the transparent ones that are uncondensed and just as they were when released in the process of evaporation.
As we have already seen, the reflections from these minute globules give us the blue coloring of the sky and are very much smaller in diameter than a globule that is able to reflect the red ray. When these small globules are condensed into cloud a great number are combined into one globule, and they are of all sizes, from the globule of evaporation to that of the raindrop when precipitation takes place. We have, then, in the various stages of cloud formation all conditions present for reflecting the various colors and combinations of colors that are found in the solar spectrum. Hence it is that, under certain conditions of atmosphere and cloud formation, we see at sunset painted upon the sky those wonderful combinations of colors, more beautiful and delicate in shading, more various in combination and purer of tone, than any artist, however cunning his fingers or brilliant his pigments, has ever been able to truthfully reproduce. Even when the sky is cloudless it often assumes a brilliant hue, which is partly a reflection from invisible moisture globules and partly due to floating particles of dust that may have been driven up from the surface of the earth, or may be the ashes of meteorites disintegrated by contact with the air.
Some years ago, commencing in August, 1883, there was a wonderful exhibition of red skies at sunset that lasted for several hours after twilight ordinarily disappears. This phenomenon ran through a period of several weeks, gradually fading away. It was afterward determined that these displays were occasioned by small particles of ashes or dust floating high in the air, that were thrown off from the volcanic eruption of Krakatoa in the Island of Java. By the general circulation of the air the ashes were carried to all parts of the world, making a circuit of the earth in from twelve to thirteen days—which showed a velocity of over eighty miles an hour. This is an instance of the high velocity of the air currents in the upper regions of the atmosphere. The reason why the illumination extended so late in the night was because of the great height that these particles of dust attained. The higher the reflecting surfaces are in the air the longer they may be seen after sunset. Ordinary twilight is caused by a reflection of sunlight from the upper air; and from its duration as ordinarily observed it is estimated that the reflection does not proceed from a point more than thirty-six miles high. In the higher latitudes the twilight is long, from the fact that the sun does not go directly down, and if we go far enough north the whole night is twilight. In the tropical regions the twilight is shorter than at any other point on the globe for reasons that are obvious. The sun there goes directly down and is soon hidden behind the earth.