In the memorable year of 1789 when the French Revolution exploded, Giuseppe
Piazzi furnished his observatory in Palermo, Sicily, with new equipment.
His was the southern-most observatory in Europe. From here, exactly two centuries
ago: on 1 January 1801, while painstakingly cataloging the stars, Piazzi
stumbled upon an object unrecognized by any human eye until then. He described
it in Italian as "la nuova stella scoperta il 1 gennaio 1801 nell'Osservatorio
di Palermo: the new star discovered on the 1 January 1801 in the Observatory
of Palermo". It turned out to be the first asteroid to be observed by any
human being. Piazzi named it Ceres, the patron goddess of Sicily.
The astronomer William Herschel called it an asteroid (star-like object).
More exactly, it is a planetoid, for like the planets of our system it is
orbiting the sun. The current technical term for it is small or minor planet.
But the original etymologically inappropriate name persists in popular books
and in the media.
More than a hundred thousand asteroids are whirling around; the vast majority
of them are in the region between Mars and Jupiter. About seven thousand
of them have been individually spotted, named, and cataloged. The thousandth
asteroid that was discovered (in 1923) was named Piazzia in honor of Piazza.
Other asteroids bear such names as Gaussia, Washingtonia, and Rockefellia.
Asteroids are for the most part amorphous chunks of rock, from a fraction
to a few miles across. It was once speculated that they are perhaps splinters
from what may have once been a wholesome planet which, for some reason, was
blown to smithereens. All this stony junk is now cluttering the calm void
of interplanetary space, like smoke in clean air from the exhaust of a truck,
yet trapped by the gravitational pull of the sun. These bits of planetary
debris constitute what is picturesquely described as the asteroid belt. If
they are countless in number, they are also meager in mass: it is estimated
that the combined mass of all asteroids will barely equal five percent of
the moon.
As petty planetoids way out there, they are mere astronomical oddities, like
a bunch of minute insects buzzing in the white zones of the Antarctic. Like
fleas and flies, these cosmic chips are okay as long as they are far, very
far away. But should they happen to come to our vicinity, we better watch
out. And astronomers calmly inform us that there are about eleven asteroids
whose paths lie within our earth's orbit. These Aten asteroids (as they are
called) are potential threats to our survival. Minuscule as they are in mass
and size (in astronomical terms), they carry stupendous kinetic energy because
of their horrendous speeds. Any encounter with them would be deadly.
There was an age in which, viewing the world from a different framework,
our ancestors feared distant stars, planets and comets because they believed
that celestial bodies control our fates and fortunes, and forebode disasters.
A Latin poet put it very simply: Astra regnunt homines (The stars rule men).
Recall Kent's words in Shakespeare's King Lear: "The stars above us govern
our conditions." The word disaster simply means bad star.
After the rise of modern science, one used to laugh at such fears. And now,
ironically, enriched by scientific knowledge, we have reason to be frightened
once again, not by mammoth and majestic stars, but by little pebbles in the
cosmic sea.
Little did Giuseppe Piazzi realize to what fears his innocent discovery would
lead us someday. Knowledge can sometimes be frightening.