The character of the supposed resistance in inter-planetary space has, it may be remarked, been often misapprehended. What Encke stipulated for was not a medium equally diffused throughout the visible universe, such as the ethereal vehicle of the vibrations of light, but a rare fluid, rapidly increasing in density towards the sun.[251] This cannot be a solar atmosphere, since it is mathematically certain, as Laplace has shown,[252] that no envelope partaking of the sun's axial rotation can extend farther from his surface than nine-tenths of the mean distance of Mercury; while physical evidence assures us that the actual depth of the solar atmosphere bears a very minute proportion to the possible depth theoretically assigned to it. That matter, however, not atmospheric in its nature—that is, neither forming one body with the sun nor altogether aeriform—exists in its neighbourhood, can admit of no reasonable doubt. The great lens-shaped mass of the zodiacal light, stretching out at times far beyond the earth's orbit, may indeed be regarded as an extension of the corona, the streamers of which themselves mark the wide diffusion, all round the solar globe, of granular or gaseous materials. Yet comets have been known to penetrate the sphere occupied by them without perceptible loss of velocity. The hypothesis, then, of a resisting medium receives at present no countenance from the movements of comets, whether of short or of long periods.

Although Encke's comet has made thirty-five complete rounds of its orbit since its first detection in 1786, it shows no certain signs of decay. Variations in its brightness are, it is true, conspicuous, but they do not proceed continuously.[253]

The history of the next known planet-like comet has proved of even more curious interest than that of the first. It was discovered by an Austrian officer named Wilhelm von Biela at Josephstadt in Bohemia, February 27, 1826, and ten days later by the French astronomer Gambart at Marseilles. Both observers computed its orbit, showed its remarkable similarity to that traversed by comets visible in 1772 and 1805, and connected them together as previous appearances of the body just detected by assigning to its revolutions a period of between six and seven years. The two brief letters conveying these strikingly similar inferences were printed side by side in the same number of the Astronomische Nachrichten (No. 94); but Biela's priority in the discovery of the comet was justly recognised by the bestowal upon it of his name.

The object in question was at no time, subsequently to 1805, visible to the naked eye. Its aspect in Sir John Herschel's great reflector on the 23rd of September, 1832, was described by him as that of a "conspicuous nebula," nearly 3 minutes in diameter. No trace of a tail was discernible. While he was engaged in watching it, a small knot of minute stars was directly traversed by it, "and when on the cluster," he tells us,[254] it "presented the appearance of a nebula resolvable and partly resolved into stars, the stars of the cluster being visible through the comet." Yet the depth of cometary matter through which such faint stellar rays penetrated undimmed, was, near the central parts of the globe, not less than 50,000 miles.

It is curious to find that this seemingly harmless, and we may perhaps add effete body, gave occasion to the first (and not the last) cometary "scare" of an enlightened century. Its orbit, at the descending node, may be said to have intersected that of the earth; since, according as it bulged in or out under the disturbing influence of the planets, the passage of the comet was affected inside or outside the terrestrial track. Now, certain calculations published by Olbers in 1828[255] showed that, on October 29, 1832, a considerable portion of its nebulous surroundings would actually sweep over the spot which, a month later, would be occupied by our planet. It needed no more to set the popular imagination in a ferment. Astronomers, after all, could not, by an alarmed public, be held to be infallible. Their computations, it was averred, which a trifling oversight would suffice to vitiate, exhibited clearly enough the danger, but afforded no guarantee of safety from a collision, with all the terrific consequences frigidly enumerated by Laplace. Nor did the panic subside until Arago formally demonstrated that the earth and the comet could by no possibility approach within less than fifty millions of miles.[256]

The return of the same body in 1845-46 was marked by an extraordinary circumstance. When first seen, November 28, it wore its usual aspect of a faint round patch of cosmical fog; but on December 19, Mr. Hind noticed that it had become distorted somewhat into the form of a pear; and ten days later, it had divided into two separate objects. This singular duplication was first perceived at New Haven in America, December 29,[257] by Messrs. Herrick and Bradley, and by Lieutenant Maury at Washington, January 13, 1846. The earliest British observer of the phenomenon (noticed by Wichmann the same evening at Koenigsberg) was Professor Challis. "I see two comets!" he exclaimed, putting his eye to the great equatoreal of the Cambridge Observatory on the night of January 15; then, distrustful of what his senses had told him, he called in his judgment to correct their improbable report by resolving one of the dubious objects into a hazy star.[258] On the 23rd, however, both were again seen by him in unmistakable cometary shape, and until far on in March (Otto Struve caught a final glimpse of the pair on the 16th of April),[259] continued to be watched with equal curiosity and amazement by astronomers in every part of the northern hemisphere. What Seneca reproved Ephorus for supposing to have taken place in 373 b.c.—what Pingre blamed Kepler for conjecturing in 1618—had then actually occurred under the attentive eyes of science in the middle of the nineteenth century!

At a distance from each other of about two-thirds the distance of the moon from the earth, the twin comets meantime moved on tranquilly, so far, at least, as their course through the heaven was concerned. Their extreme lightness, or the small amount of matter contained in each, could not have received a more signal illustration than by the fact that their revolutions round the sun were performed independently; that is to say, they travelled side by side without experiencing any appreciable mutual disturbance, thus plainly showing that at an interval of only 157,250 miles their attractive power was virtually inoperative. Signs of internal agitation, however, were not wanting. Each fragment threw out a short tail in a direction perpendicular to the line joining their centres, and each developed a bright nucleus, although the original comet had exhibited neither of these signs of cometary vitality. A singular interchange of brilliancy was, besides, observed to take place between the coupled objects, each of which alternately outshone and was outshone by the other, while an arc of light, apparently proceeding from the more lustrous, at times bridged the intervening space. Obviously, the gravitational tie, rendered powerless by exiguity of matter, was here replaced by some other form of mutual action, the nature of which can as yet be dealt with only by conjecture.

Once more, in August, 1852, the double comet returned to the neighbourhood of the sun, but under circumstances not the most advantageous for observation. Indeed, the companion was not detected until September 16, when Father Secchi at Rome perceived it to have increased its distance from the originating body to a million and a quarter of miles, or about eight times the average interval at the former appearance. Both vanished shortly afterwards, and have never since been seen, notwithstanding the eager watch kept for objects of such singular interest, and the accurate knowledge of their track supplied by Santini's investigations. A dangerously near approach to Jupiter in 1841 is believed to have occasioned their disruption, and the disaggregating process thus started was likely to continue. We can scarcely doubt that the fate has overtaken them which Newton assigned as the end of all cometary existence. Diffundi tandem et spargi per coelos universos.[260]

Biela's is not the only vanished comet. Brorsen's, discovered at Kiel in 1846, and observed at four subsequent returns, failed unaccountably to become visible in 1890.[261] Yet numerous sentinels were on the alert to surprise its approach along a well-ascertained track, traversed in five and a half years. The object presented from the first a somewhat time-worn aspect. It was devoid of tail, or any other kind of appendage; and the rapid loss of the light acquired during perihelion passage was accompanied by inordinate expansion of an already tenuous globular mass. Another lost or mislaid comet is one found by De Vico at Rome, August 22, 1844. It was expected to return early in 1850, but did not, and has never since been seen; unless its re-appearance as E. Swift's comet of 1894 should be ratified by closer inquiry.[262]

A telescopic comet with a period of 7-1/2 years, discovered November 22, 1843, by M. Faye of the Paris Observatory, formed the subject of a characteristically patient and profound inquiry on the part of Leverrier, designed to test its suggested identity with Lexell's comet of 1770. The result was decisive against the hypothesis of Valz, the divergences between the orbits of the two bodies being found to increase instead of to diminish, as the history of the new-comer was traced backward into the previous century.[263] Faye's comet pursues the most nearly circular path of any similar known object; even at its nearest approach to the sun it remains farther off than Mars when he is most distant from it; and it was proved by the admirable researches of Professor Axel Moeller,[264] director of the Swedish observatory of Lund, to exhibit no trace of the action of a resisting medium.

Periodical comets are evidently bodies which have each lived through a chapter of accidents, and a significant hint as to the nature of their adventures can be gathered from the fact that their aphelia are pretty closely grouped about the tracks of the major planets. Halley's, and five other comets are thus related to Neptune; three connect themselves with Uranus, two with Saturn, above a score with Jupiter. Some form of dependence is plainly indicated, and the researches of Tisserand,[265] Callandreau,[266] and Newton[267] of Yale College, leave scarcely a doubt that the "capture-theory" represents the essential truth in the matter. The original parabolic paths of these comets were then changed into ellipses by the backward pull of a planet, whose sphere of attraction they chanced to enter when approaching the sun from outer space. Moreover, since a body thus affected should necessarily return at each revolution to the scene of encounter, the same process of retardation may, in some cases, have been repeated many times, until the more restricted cometary orbits were reduced to their present dimensions. The prevalence, too, among periodical comets, of direct motion, is shown to be inevitable by M. Callandreau's demonstration that those travelling in a retrograde direction would, by planetary action, be thrown outside the probable range of terrestrial observation. The scarcity of hyperbolic comets can be similarly explained. They would be created whenever the attractive influence of the disturbing planet was exerted in a forward or accelerative sense, but could come only by a rare exception to our notice. The inner planets, including the earth, have also unquestionably played their parts in modifying cometary orbits; and Mr. Plummer suggests, with some show of reason, that the capture of Encke's comet may be a feat due to Mercury.[268]

No great comet appeared between the "star" which presided at the birth of Napoleon and the "vintage" comet of 1811. The latter was first described by Flaugergues at Viviers, March 26, 1811; Wisniewski, at Neu-Tscherkask in Southern Russia, caught a final glimpse of it, August 17, 1812. Two disappearances in the solar rays as the earth moved round in its orbit, and two reappearances after conjunction, were included in this unprecedentedly long period of visibility of 510 days. This relative permanence (so far as the inhabitants of Europe were concerned) was due to the high northern latitude attained near perihelion, combined with a certain leisureliness of movement along a path everywhere external to that of the earth. The magnificent luminous train of this body, on October 15, the day of its nearest terrestrial approach, covered an arc of the heavens 23-1/2 degrees in length, corresponding to a real extension of one hundred millions of miles. Its form was described by Sir William Herschel as that of "an inverted hollow cone," and its colour as yellowish, strongly contrasted with the bluish-green tint of the "head," round which it was flung like a transparent veil. The planetary disc of the head, 127,000 miles across, appeared to be composed of strongly-condensed nebulous matter; but somewhat eccentrically situated within it was a star-like nucleus of a reddish tinge, which Herschel presumed to be solid, and ascertained, with his usual care, to have a diameter of 428 miles. From the total absence of phases, as well as from the vivacity of its radiance, he confidently inferred that its light was not borrowed, but inherent.[269]

This remarkable apparition formed the subject of a memoir by Olbers,[270] the striking yet steadily reasoned out suggestions contained in which there was at that time no means of following up with profit. Only of late has the "electrical theory," of which Zoellner[271] regarded Olbers as the founder, assumed a definite and measurable form, capable of being tested by the touchstone of fact, as knowledge makes its slow inroads on the fundamental mystery of the physical universe.

The paraboloidal shape of the bright envelope separated by a dark interval from the head of the great comet of 1811, and constituting, as it were, the root of its tail, seemed to the astronomer of Bremen to reveal the presence of a double repulsion; the expelled vapours accumulating where the two forces, solar and cometary, balanced each other, and being then swept backwards in a huge train. He accordingly distinguished three classes of these bodies:—First, comets which develop no matter subject to solar repulsion. These have no tails, and are probably mere nebulosities, without solid nuclei. Secondly, comets which are acted upon by solar repulsion only, and consequently throw out no emanations towards the sun. Of this kind was a bright comet visible in 1807.[272] Thirdly, comets like that of 1811, giving evidence of action of both kinds. These are distinguished by a dark hoop encompassing the head and dividing it from the luminous envelope, as well as by an obscure caudal axis, resulting from the hollow, cone-like structure of the tail.

Again, the ingenious view subsequently propounded by M. Bredikhin as to the connection between the form of these appendages and the kind of matter composing them, was very clearly anticipated by Olbers. The amount of tail-curvature, he pointed out, depends in each case upon the proportion borne by the velocity of the ascending particles to that of the comet in its orbit; the swifter the outrush, the straighter the resulting tail. But the velocity of the ascending particles varies with the energy of their repulsion by the sun, and this again, it may be presumed, with their quality. Thus multiple tails are developed when the same comet throws off, as it approaches perihelion, specifically distinct substances. The long, straight ray which proceeded from the comet of 1807, for example, was doubtless made up of particles subject to a much more vigorous solar repulsion than those formed into the shorter curved emanation issuing from it nearly in the same direction. In the comet of 1811 he calculated that the particles expelled from the head travelled to the remote extremity of the tail in eleven minutes, indicating by this enormous rapidity of movement (comparable to that of the transmission of light) the action of a force much more powerful than the opposing one of gravity. The not uncommon phenomena of multiple envelopes, on the other hand, he explained as due to the varying amounts of repulsion exercised by the nucleus itself on the different kinds of matter developed from it.

The movements and perturbations of the comet of 1811 were no less profoundly studied by Argelander than its physical constitution by Olbers. The orbit which he assigned to it is of such vast dimensions as to require no less that 3,065 years for the completion of its circuit; and to carry the body describing it at each revolution to fourteen times the distance from the sun of the frigid Neptune. Thus, when it last visited our neighbourhood, Achilles may have gazed on its imposing train as he lay on the sands all night bewailing the loss of Patroclus; and when it returns, it will perhaps be to shine upon the ruins of empires and civilizations still deep buried among the secrets of the coming time.[273]

On the 26th of June, 1819, while the head of a comet passed across the face of the sun, the earth was in all probability involved in its tail. But of this remarkable double event nothing was known until more than a month later, when the fact of its past occurrence emerged from the calculations of Olbers.[274] Nor had the comet itself been generally visible previous to the first days of July. Several observers, however, on the publication of these results, brought forward accounts of singular spots perceived by them upon the sun at the time of the transit, and an original drawing of one of them, by Pastorff of Buchholtz, has been preserved. This undoubtedly authentic delineation[275] represents a round nebulous object with a bright spot in the centre, of decidedly cometary aspect, and not in the least like an ordinary solar "macula." Mr. Hind,[276] nevertheless, showed its position on the sun to be irreconcilable with that which the comet must have occupied; and Mr. Ranyard's discovery of a similar smaller drawing by the same author, dated May 26, 1828,[277] reduces to evanescence the probability of its connection with that body. Indeed, recent experience renders very doubtful the possibility of such an observation.

The return of Halley's comet in 1835 was looked forward to as an opportunity for testing the truth of floating cometary theories, and did not altogether disappoint expectation. As early as 1817, its movements and disturbances since 1759 were proposed by the Turin Academy of Sciences as the subject of a prize ultimately awarded to Baron Damoiseau. Pontecoulant was adjudged a similar distinction by the Paris Academy in 1829; while Rosenberger's calculations were rewarded with the gold medal of the Royal Astronomical Society.[278]

They were verified by the detection at Rome, August 6, 1835, of a nearly circular misty object not far from the predicted place of the comet. It was not, however, until the middle of September that it began to throw out a tail, which by the 15th of October had attained a length of about 24 degrees (on the 19th, at Madras, it extended to fully 30),[279] the head showing to the naked eye as a reddish star rather brighter than Aldebaran or Antares.[280] Some curious phenomena accompanied the process of tail-formation. An outrush of luminous matter, resembling in shape a partially opened fan, issued from the nucleus towards the sun, and at a certain point, like smoke driven before a high wind, was vehemently swept backwards in a prolonged train. The appearance of the comet at this time was compared by Bessel,[281] who watched it with minute attention, to that of a blazing rocket. He made the singular observation that this fan of light, which seemed the source of supply for the tail, oscillated like a pendulum to and fro across a line joining the sun and nucleus, in a period of 4-3/5 days; and he was unable to escape from the conclusion[282] that a repulsive force, about twice as powerful as the attractive force of gravity, was concerned in the production of these remarkable effects. Nor did he hesitate to recur to the analogy of magnetic polarity, or to declare, still more emphatically than Olbers, "the emission of the tail to be a purely electrical phenomenon."[283]

The transformations undergone by this body were almost as strange and complete as those which affected the brigands in Dante's Inferno. When first seen, it wore the aspect of a nebula; later it put on the distinctive garb of a comet; it next appeared as a star; finally, it dilated, first in a spherical, then in a paraboloidal form, until May 5, 1836, when it vanished from Herschel's observation at Feldhausen as if by melting into adjacent space from the excessive diffusion of its light. A very uncommon circumstance in its development was that it lost all trace of tail previous to its arrival at perihelion on the 16th of November. Nor did it begin to recover its elongated shape for more than two months afterwards. On the 23rd of January, Boguslawski perceived it as a star of the sixth magnitude, without measurable disc.[284] Only two nights later, Maclear, director of the Cape Observatory, found the head to be 131 seconds across.[285] And so rapidly did the augmentation of size progress, that Sir John Herschel estimated the actual bulk of this singular object to have increased forty-fold in the ensuing week. "I can hardly doubt," he remarks, "that the comet was fairly evaporated in perihelio by the heat, and resolved into transparent vapour, and is now in process of rapid condensation and re-precipitation on the nucleus."[286] A plausible, but no longer admissible, interpretation of this still unexplained phenomenon. The next return of this body, which will be considerably accelerated by Jupiter's influence, is expected to take place in 1910.[287]

By means of an instrument devised to test the quality of light, Arago obtained decisive evidence that some at least of the radiance proceeding from Halley's comet was derived by reflection from the sun.[288] Indications of the same kind had been afforded[289] by the comet which suddenly appeared above the north-western horizon of Paris, July 3, 1819, after having enveloped (as already stated) our terrestrial abode in its filmy appendages; but the "polariscope" had not then reached the perfection subsequently given to it, and its testimony was accordingly far less reliable than in 1835. Such experiments, however, are in reality more beautiful and ingenious than instructive, since ignited as well as obscure bodies possess the power of throwing back light incident upon them, and will consequently transmit to us from the neighbourhood of the sun rays partly direct, partly reflected, of which a certain proportion will exhibit the peculiarity known as polarisation.

The most brilliant comets of the century were suddenly rivalled if not surpassed by the extraordinary object which blazed out beside the sun, February 28, 1843. It was simultaneously perceived in Mexico and the United States, in Southern Europe, and at sea off the Cape of Good Hope, where the passengers on board the Owen Glendower were amazed by the sight of a "short, dagger-like object," closely following the sun towards the western horizon.[290] At Florence, Amici found its distance from the sun's centre at noon to be only 1 deg. 23'; and spectators at Parma were able, when sheltered from the direct glare of mid-day, to trace the tail to a length of four or five degrees. The full dimensions of this astonishing appurtenance began to be disclosed a few days later. On the 3rd of March it measured 25 deg., and on the 11th, at Calcutta, Mr. Clerihew observed a second streamer, nearly twice as long as the first, and making an angle with it of 18 deg., to have been emitted in a single day. This rapidity of projection, Sir John Herschel remarked, "conveys an astounding impression of the intensity of the forces at work." "It is clear," he continued, "that if we have to deal here with matter, such as we conceive it—viz., possessing inertia—at all, it must be under the dominion of forces incomparably more energetic than gravitation, and quite of a different nature."[291]

On the 17th of March a silvery ray, some 40 deg. long and slightly curved at its extremity, shone out above the sunset clouds in this country. No previous intimation had been received of the possibility of such an apparition, and even astronomers—no lightning messages across the seas being as yet possible—were perplexed. The nature of the phenomenon, indeed, soon became evident, but the wonder of it did not diminish with the study of its attendant circumstances. Never before, within astronomical memory, had our system been traversed by a body pursuing such an adventurous career. The closest analogy was offered by the great comet of 1680 (Newton's), which rushed past the sun at a distance of only 144,000 miles; but even this—on the cosmical scale—scarcely perceptible interval was reduced nearly one-half in the case we are now concerned with. The centre of the comet of 1843 approached the formidable luminary within 78,000 miles, leaving, it is estimated, a clear space of not more than 32,000 between the surfaces of the bodies brought into such perilous proximity. The escape of the wanderer was, however, secured by the extraordinary rapidity of its flight. It swept past perihelion at a rate—366 miles a second—which, if continued, would have carried it right round the sun in two hours; and in only eleven minutes more than that short period it actually described half the curvature of its orbit—an arc of 180 deg.—although in travelling over the remaining half many hundreds of sluggish years will doubtless be consumed.

The behaviour of this comet may be regarded as an experimentum crucis as to the nature of tails. For clearly no fixed appendage many millions of miles in length could be whirled like a brandished sabre from one side of the sun to the other in 131 minutes. Cometary trains are then, as Olbers rightly conceived them to be, emanations, not appendages—inconceivably rapid outflows of highly rarefied matter, the greater part, if not all, of which becomes permanently detached from the nucleus.

That of the comet of 1843 reached, about the time that it became visible in this country, the extravagant length of 200 millions of miles.[292] It was narrow, and bounded by nearly parallel and nearly rectilinear lines, resembling—to borrow a comparison of Aristotle's—a "road" through the constellations; and after the 3rd of March showed no trace of hollowness, the axis being, in fact, rather brighter than the edges. Distinctly perceptible in it were those singular aurora-like coruscations which gave to the "tresses" of Charles V.'s comet the appearance—as Cardan described it—of "a torch agitated by the wind," and have not unfrequently been observed to characterise other similar objects. A consideration first adverted to by Olbers proves these to originate in our own atmosphere. For owing to the great difference in the distances from the earth of the origin and extremity of such vast effluxes, the light proceeding from their various parts is transmitted to our eyes in notably different intervals of time. Consequently a luminous undulation, even though propagated instantaneously from end to end of a comet's tail, would appear to us to occupy many minutes in its progress. But the coruscations in question pass as swiftly as a falling star. They are, then, of terrestrial production.

Periods of the utmost variety were by different computators assigned to the body, which arrived at perihelion, February 27, 1843, at 9.47 p.m. Professor Hubbard of Washington found that it required 533 years to complete a revolution; MM. Laugier and Mauvais of Paris considered the true term to be 35;[293] Clausen looked for its return at the end of between six and seven. A recent discussion[294] by Professor Kreutz of all the available data gives a probable period of 512 years for this body, and precludes its hypothetical identity with the comet of 1668, known as the "Spina" of Cassini.

It may now be asked, what were the conclusions regarding the nature of comets drawn by astronomers from the considerable amount of novel experience accumulated during the first half of this century? The first and best assured was that the matter composing them is in a state of extreme tenuity. Numerous and trustworthy observations showed that the feeblest rays of light might traverse some hundreds of thousands of miles of their substance, even where it was apparently most condensed, without being perceptibly weakened. Nay, instances were recorded in which stars were said to have gained in brightness from the process![295] On the 24th of June, 1825, Olbers[296] saw the comet then visible all but obliterated by the central passage of a star too small to be distinguished with the naked eye, its own light remaining wholly unchanged. A similar effect was noted December 1, 1811, when the great comet of that year approached so close to Altair, the lucida of the Eagle, that the star seemed to be transformed into the nucleus of the comet.[297] Even the central blaze of Halley's comet in 1835 was powerless to impede the passage of stellar rays. Struve[298] observed at Dorpat, on September 17, an all but central occultation; Glaisher[299] one (so far as he could ascertain) absolutely so eight days later at Cambridge. In neither case was there any appreciable diminution of the star's light. Again, on the 11th of October, 1847, Mr. Dawes,[300] an exceptionally keen observer, distinctly saw a star of the tenth magnitude through the exact centre of a comet discovered on the first of that month by Maria Mitchell of Nantucket.

Examples, on the other hand, are not wanting of the diminution of stellar light under similar circumstances;[301] and we meet two alleged instances of the vanishing of a star behind a comet. Wartmann of Geneva observed the first, November 28, 1828;[302] but his instrument was defective, and the eclipsing body, Encke's comet, has shown itself otherwise perfectly translucent. The second case of occultation occurred September 13, 1890, when an eleventh magnitude star was stated to have completely disappeared during the transit over it of Denning's comet.[303]

From the failure to detect any effects of refraction in the light of stars occulted by comets, it was inferred (though, as we know now, erroneously) that their composition is rather that of dust than that of vapour; that they consist not of any continuous substance, but of discrete solid particles, very finely divided and widely scattered. In conformity with this view was the known smallness of their masses. Laplace had shown that if the amount of matter forming Lexell's comet had been as much as 1/5000 of that contained in our globe, the effect of its attraction, on the occasion of its approach within 1,438,000 miles of the earth, July 1, 1770, must have been apparent in the lengthening of the year. And that some comets, at any rate, possess masses immeasurably below this maximum value was clearly proved by the undisturbed parallel march of the two fragments of Biela's in 1846.

But the discovery in this branch most distinctive of the period under review is that of "short period" comets, of which four[304] were known in 1850. These, by the character of their movements, serve as a link between the planetary and cometary worlds, and by the nature of their construction, seem to mark a stage in cometary decay. For that comets are rather transitory agglomerations, than permanent products of cosmical manufacture, appeared to be demonstrated by the division and disappearance of one amongst their number, as well as by the singular and rapid changes in appearance undergone by many, and the seemingly irrevocable diffusion of their substance visible in nearly all. They might then be defined, according to the ideas respecting them prevalent fifty years ago, as bodies unconnected by origin with the solar system, but encountered, and to some extent appropriated, by it in its progress through space, owing their visibility in great part, if not altogether, to light reflected from the sun, and their singular and striking forms to the action of repulsive forces emanating from him, the penalty of their evanescent splendour being paid in gradual waste and final dissipation and extinction.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 241: Allgemeine Geographische Ephemeriden, vol. iv., p. 287.]

[Footnote 242: Astr. Jahrbuch, 1823, p. 217. The period (1,208 days) of this body is considerably shorter than that of any other known comet.]

[Footnote 243: "Sicut bombyces filo fundendo, sic cometas cauda exspiranda consumi et denique mori."—De Cometis, Op., vol. vii., p. 110.]

[Footnote 244: Considerable uncertainty, however, still prevails on the point. The inverse relation assumed by Lagrange to exist between distance from the sun and density brought out the Mercurian mass 1/2025810 that of the sun (Laplace, Exposition du Syst. du Monde, t. ii., p. 50, ed. 1824). Von Asten deduced from the movements of Encke's comet, 1818-48, a value of 1/7636440; while Backlund from its seven returns, 1871-1891, derived 1/9647000 (Comptes Rendus, Oct. 1, 1894).]

[Footnote 245: Arago, Annuaire (1832), p. 218.]

[Footnote 246: Hind, The Comets, p. 20.]

[Footnote 247: Phil. Trans., vol. xlvi., p. 204.]

[Footnote 248: Astr. Nach., No. 2,134.]

[Footnote 249: Comptes Rendus, t. cvii., p. 588.]

[Footnote 250: Mem. de St. Petersbourg, t. xxxii., No. 3, 1884; Astr. Nach., No. 2,727.]

[Footnote 251: Month. Not., vol. xix., p. 72.]

[Footnote 252: Mecanique Celeste, t. ii., p. 197.]

[Footnote 253: See Berberich, Astr. Nach., Nos. 2,836-7, 3,125; Deichmueller, Ibid., No. 3,123.]

[Footnote 254: Month. Not., vol. ii., p. 117.]

[Footnote 255: Astr. Nach., No. 128.]

[Footnote 256: Annuaire, 1832, p. 186.]

[Footnote 257: Am. Journ. of Science, vol. i. (2nd series), p. 293. Prof. Hubbard's calculations indicated a probability that the definitive separation of the two nuclei occurred as early as September 30, 1884. Astronomical Journal (Gould's), vol. iv., p. 5. See also, on the subject of this comet, W. T. Lynn, Intellectual Observer, vol. xi., p. 208; E. Ledger, Observatory, August, 1883, p. 244; and H. A. Newton, Am. Journ. of Science, vol. xxxi., p. 81, February, 1886.]

[Footnote 258: Month. Not., vol. vii., p. 73.]

[Footnote 259: Bulletin Ac. Imp. de St. Petersbourg, t. vi., col. 77. The latest observation of the parent nucleus was that of Argelander, April 27, at Bonn.]

[Footnote 260: D'Arrest, Astr. Nach., No. 1,624.]

[Footnote 261: Der Brorsen'sche Comet. Von Dr. E. Lamp, Kiel, 1892; Plummer, Knowledge, vol. xix., p. 41.]

[Footnote 262: Schulhof, Astr. Nach., No. 3,267; Observatory, vol. xviii., p. 64; F. H. Seares, Astr. Nach., Nos. 3,606-7; Plummer, Knowledge, vol. xix., p. 156.]

[Footnote 263: Comptes Rendus, t. xxv., p. 570.]

[Footnote 264: Month. Not., vol. xii., p. 248.]

[Footnote 265: Bull. Astr., t. vi., pp. 241, 289.]

[Footnote 266: Etude sur la Theorie des Cometes periodiques. Annales de l'Observatoire, t. xx., Paris, 1891.]

[Footnote 267: Amer. Journ. of Science, vol. xlii., pp. 183, 482, 1891.]

[Footnote 268: Observatory, vol. xiv., p. 194.]

[Footnote 269: Phil. Trans., vol. cii., pp. 118-124.]

[Footnote 270: Ueber den Schweif des grossen Cometen von 1811, Monat. Corr., vol. xxv., pp. 3-22. Reprinted by Zoellner. Ueber die Natur der Cometen, pp. 3-15.]

[Footnote 271: Natur der Cometen, p. 148.]

[Footnote 272: The subject of a classical memoir by Bessel, published in 1810.]

[Footnote 273: A fresh investigation of its orbit has been published by N. Herz of Vienna. See Bull. Astr., t. ix., p. 427.]

[Footnote 274: Astr. Jahrbuch (Bode's), 1823, p. 134.]

[Footnote 275: Reproduced in Webb's Celestial Objects, 4th ed.]

[Footnote 276: Month. Not., vol. xxxvi., p. 309.]

[Footnote 277: Celestial Objects, p. 40, note.]

[Footnote 278: See Airy's Address, Mem. R. A. S., vol. x., p. 376. Rosenberger calculated no more, though he lived until 1890. W. T. Lynn, Observatory, vol. xiii., p. 125.]

[Footnote 279: Hind, The Comets, p. 47.]

[Footnote 280: Arago, Annuaire, 1836, p. 228.]

[Footnote 281: Astr. Nach., No. 300.]

[Footnote 282: It deserves to be recorded that Robert Hooke drew a very similar inference from his observations of the comets of 1680 and 1682. Month. Not., vol. xiv., pp. 77-83.]

[Footnote 283: Briefwechsel zwischen Olbers und Bessel, Bd. ii., p. 390.]

[Footnote 284: Herschel, Results, p. 405.]

[Footnote 285: Mem. R. A. S., vol. x., p. 92,]

[Footnote 286: Results, p. 401.]

[Footnote 287: Pontecoulant, Comptes Rendus, t. lviii., p. 825.]

[Footnote 288: Annuaire, 1836, p. 233.]

[Footnote 289: Cosmos, vol. i., p. 90, note (Otte's trans.).]

[Footnote 290: Herschel, Outlines of Astronomy, p. 399, 9th ed.]

[Footnote 291: Outlines, p. 398.]

[Footnote 292: Boguslawski calculated that it extended on the 21st of March to 581 millions.—Report. Brit. Ass., 1845, p. 89.]

[Footnote 293: Comptes Rendus, t. xvi., p. 919.]

[Footnote 294: Observatory, vol. xxiv., p. 167; Astr. Nach., No. 3,320.]

[Footnote 295: Piazzi noticed a considerable increase of lustre in a very faint star of the twelfth magnitude viewed through a comet. Maedler, Reden, etc., p. 248, note.]

[Footnote 296: Astr. Jahrbuch, 1828, p. 151.]

[Footnote 297: Maedler, Gesch. d. Astr., Bd. ii., p. 412.]

[Footnote 298: Recueil de l'Ac. Imp. de St. Petersbourg, 1835, p. 143.]

[Footnote 299: Guillemin's World of Comets, trans, by J. Glaisher, p. 294, note.]

[Footnote 300: Month. Not., vol. viii., p. 9.]

[Footnote 301: A real, though only partial stoppage of light seems indicated by Herschel's observations on the comet of 1807. Stars seen through the tail, October 18, lost much of their lustre. One near the head was only faintly visible by glimpses. Phil. Trans., vol. xcvii., p. 153.]

[Footnote 302: Arago, Annuaire, 1832, p. 205.]

[Footnote 303: Ibid., 1891, p. 290.]

[Footnote 304: Viz., Encke's, Biela's, Faye's, and Brorsen's.]



CHAPTER VI

INSTRUMENTAL ADVANCES

It is impossible to follow with intelligent interest the course of astronomical discovery without feeling some curiosity as to the means by which such surpassing results have been secured. Indeed, the bare acquaintance with what has been achieved, without any corresponding knowledge of how it has been achieved, supplies food for barren wonder rather than for fruitful and profitable thought. Ideas advance most readily along the solid ground of practical reality, and often find true sublimity while laying aside empty marvels. Progress is the result, not so much of sudden flights of genius, as of sustained, patient, often commonplace endeavour; and the true lesson of scientific history lies in the close connection which it discloses between the most brilliant developments of knowledge and the faithful accomplishment of his daily task by each individual thinker and worker.

It would be easy to fill a volume with the detailed account of the long succession of optical and mechanical improvements by means of which the observation of the heavens has been brought to its present degree of perfection; but we must here content ourselves with a summary sketch of the chief amongst them. The first place in our consideration is naturally claimed by the telescope.

This marvellous instrument, we need hardly remind our readers, is of two distinct kinds—that in which light is gathered together into a focus by refraction, and that in which the same end is attained by reflection. The image formed is in each case viewed through a magnifying lens, or combination of lenses, called the eye-piece. Not for above a century after the "optic glasses" invented or stumbled upon by the spectacle-maker of Middelburg (1608) had become diffused over Europe, did the reflecting telescope come, even in England, the place of its birth, into general use. Its principle (a sufficiently obvious one) had indeed been suggested by Mersenne as early as 1639;[305] James Gregory in 1663[306] described in detail a mode of embodying that principle in a practical shape; and Newton, adopting an original system of construction, actually produced in 1668 a tiny speculum, one inch across, by means of which the apparent distance of objects was reduced thirty-nine times. Nevertheless, the exorbitantly long tubeless refractors, introduced by Huygens, maintained their reputation until Hadley exhibited to the Royal Society, January 12, 1721,[307] a reflector of six inches aperture, and sixty-two in focal length, which rivalled in performance, and of course indefinitely surpassed in manageability, one of the "aerial" kind of 123 feet.

The concave-mirror system now gained a decided ascendant, and was brought to unexampled perfection by James Short of Edinburgh during the years 1732-68. Its resources were, however, first fully developed by William Herschel. The energy and inventiveness of this extraordinary man marked an epoch wherever they were applied. His ardent desire to measure and gauge the stupendous array of worlds which his specula revealed to him, made him continually intent upon adding to their "space-penetrating power" by increasing their light-gathering surface. These, as he was the first to explain,[308] are in a constant proportion one to the other. For a telescope with twice the linear aperture of another will collect four times as much light, and will consequently disclose an object four times as faint as could be seen with the first, or, what comes to the same, an object equally bright at twice the distance. In other words, it will possess double the space-penetrating power of the smaller instrument. Herschel's great mirrors—the first examples of the giant telescopes of modern times—were then primarily engines for extending the bounds of the visible universe; and from the sublimity of this "final cause" was derived the vivid enthusiasm which animated his efforts to success.

It seems probable that the seven-foot telescope constructed by him in 1775—that is within little more than a year after his experiments in shaping and polishing metal had begun—already exceeded in effective power any work by an earlier optician; and both his skill and his ambition rapidly developed. His efforts culminated, after mirrors of ten, twenty, and thirty feet focal length had successively left his hands, in the gigantic forty-foot, completed August 28, 1789. It was the first reflector in which only a single mirror was employed. In the "Gregorian" form, the focussed rays are, by a second reflection from a small concave[309] mirror, thrown straight back through a central aperture in the larger one, behind which the eye-piece is fixed. The object under examination is thus seen in the natural direction. The "Newtonian," on the other hand, shows the object in a line of sight at right angles to the true one, the light collected by the speculum being diverted to one side of the tube by the interposition of a small plane mirror, situated at an angle of 45 deg. to the axis of the instrument. Upon these two systems Herschel worked until 1787, when, becoming convinced of the supreme importance of economising light (necessarily wasted by the second reflection), he laid aside the small mirror of his forty-foot then in course of construction, and turned it into a "front-view" reflector. This was done—according to the plan proposed by Lemaire in 1732—by slightly inclining the speculum so as to enable the image formed by it to be viewed with an eye-glass fixed at the upper margin of the tube. The observer thus stood with his back turned to the object he was engaged in scrutinising.

The advantages of the increased brilliancy afforded by this modification were strikingly illustrated by the discovery, August 28 and September 17, 1789, of the two Saturnian satellites nearest the ring. Nevertheless, the monster telescope of Slough cannot be said to have realised the sanguine expectations of its constructor. The occasions on which it could be usefully employed were found to be extremely rare. It was injuriously affected by every change of temperature. The great weight (25 cwt.) of a speculum four feet in diameter rendered it peculiarly liable to distortion. With all imaginable care, the delicate lustre of its surface could not be preserved longer than two years,[310] when the difficult process of repolishing had to be undertaken. It was accordingly never used after 1811, when, having gone blind from damp, it lapsed by degrees into the condition of a museum inmate.

The exceedingly high magnifying powers employed by Herschel constituted a novelty in optical astronomy, to which he attached great importance. The work of ordinary observation would, however, be hindered rather than helped by them. The attempt to increase in this manner the efficacy of the telescope is speedily checked by atmospheric, to say nothing of other difficulties. Precisely in the same proportion as an object is magnified, the disturbances of the medium through which it is seen are magnified also. Even on the clearest and most tranquil nights, the air is never for a moment really still. The rays of light traversing it are continually broken by minute fluctuations of refractive power caused by changes of temperature and pressure, and the currents which these engender. With such luminous quiverings and waverings the astronomer has always more or less to reckon; their absence is simply a question of degree; if sufficiently magnified, they are at all times capable of rendering observation impossible.

Thus, such powers as 3,000, 4,000, 5,000, even 6,652,[311] which Herschel now and again applied to his great telescopes, must, save on the rarest occasions, prove an impediment rather than an aid to vision. They were, however, used by him only for special purposes, experimentally, not systematically, and with the clearest discrimination of their advantages and drawbacks. It is obvious that perfectly different ends are subserved by increasing the aperture and by increasing the power of a telescope. In the one case, a larger quantity of light is captured and concentrated; in the other, the same amount is distributed over a wider area. A diminution of brilliancy in the image accordingly attends, coeteris paribus, upon each augmentation of its apparent size. For this reason, such faint objects as nebulae are most successfully observed with moderate powers applied to instruments of a great capacity for light, the details of their structure actually disappearing when highly magnified. With stellar groups the reverse is the case. Stars cannot be magnified, simply because they are too remote to have any sensible dimensions; but the space between them can. It was thus for the purpose of dividing very close double stars that Herschel increased to such an unprecedented extent the magnifying capabilities of his instruments; and to this improvement incidentally the discovery of Uranus, March 13, 1781,[312] was due. For by the examination with strong lenses of an object which, even with a power of 227, presented a suspicious appearance, he was able at once to pronounce its disc to be real, not merely "spurious," and so to distinguish it unerringly from the crowd of stars amidst which it was moving.

While the reflecting telescope was astonishing the world by its rapid development in the hands of Herschel, its unpretending rival was slowly making its way towards the position which the future had in store for it. The great obstacle which long stood in the way of the improvement of refractors was the defect known as "chromatic aberration." This is due to no other cause than that which produces the rainbow and the spectrum—the separation, or "dispersion" in their passage through a refracting medium, of the variously coloured rays composing a beam of white light. In an ordinary lens there is no common point of concentration; each colour has its own separate focus; and the resulting image, formed by the superposition of as many images as there are hues in the spectrum, is indefinitely terminated with a tinted border, eminently baffling to exactness of observation.

The extravagantly long telescopes of the seventeenth century were designed to avoid this evil (as well as another source of indistinct vision in the spherical shape of lenses); but no attempt to remedy it was made until an Essex gentleman succeeded, in 1733, in so combining lenses of flint and crown glass as to produce refraction without colour.[313] Mr. Chester More Hall was, however, equally indifferent to fame and profit, and took no pains to make his invention public. The effective discovery of the achromatic telescope was, accordingly, reserved for John Dollond, whose method of correcting at the same time chromatic and spherical aberration was laid before the Royal Society in 1758. Modern astronomy may be said to have been thereby rendered possible. Refractors have always been found better suited than reflectors to the ordinary work of observatories. They are, so to speak, of a more robust, as well as of a more plastic nature. They suffer less from vicissitudes of temperature and climate. They retain their efficiency with fewer precautions and under more trying circumstances. Above all, they co-operate more readily with mechanical appliances, and lend themselves with far greater facility to purposes of exact measurement.

A practical difficulty, however, impeded the realisation of the brilliant prospects held out by Dollond's invention. It was found impossible to procure flint-glass, such as was needed for optical use—that is, of perfectly homogeneous quality—except in fragments of insignificant size. Discs of more than two or three inches in diameter were of extreme rarity; and the crushing excise duty imposed upon the article by the financial unwisdom of the Government, both limited its production, and, by rendering experiments too costly for repetition, barred its improvement.

Up to this time, Great Britain had left foreign competitors far behind in the instrumental department of astronomy. The quadrants and circles of Bird, Cary and Ramsden were unapproached abroad. The reflecting telescope came into existence and reached maturity on British soil. The refracting telescope was cured of its inherent vices by British ingenuity. But with the opening of the nineteenth century, the almost unbroken monopoly of skill and contrivance which our countrymen had succeeded in establishing was invaded, and British workmen had to be content to exchange a position of supremacy for one of at least partial temporary inferiority.

Somewhat about the time that Herschel set about polishing his first speculum, Pierre Louis Guinand, a Swiss artisan, living near Chaux-de-Fonds, in the canton of Neuchatel, began to grind spectacles for his own use, and was thence led on to the rude construction of telescopes by fixing lenses in pasteboard tubes. The sight of an England achromatic stirred a higher ambition, and he took the first opportunity of procuring some flint glass from England (then the only source of supply), with the design of imitating an instrument the full capabilities of which he was destined to be the humble means of developing. The English glass proving of inferior quality, he conceived the possibility, unaided and ignorant of the art as he was, of himself making better, and spent seven years (1784-90) in fruitless experiments directed to that end. Failure only stimulated him to enlarge their scale. He bought some land near Les Brenets, constructed upon it a furnace capable of melting two quintals of glass, and reducing himself and his family to the barest necessaries of life, he poured his earnings (he at this time made bells for repeaters) unstintingly into his crucibles.[314] His undaunted resolution triumphed. In 1799 he carried to Paris and there showed to Lalande several discs of flawless crystal four to six inches in diameter. Lalande advised him to keep his secret, but in 1805 he was induced to remove to Munich, where he became the instructor of the immortal Fraunhofer. His return to Les Brenets in 1814 was signalised by the discovery of an ingenious mode of removing striated portions of glass by breaking and re-soldering the product of each melting, and he eventually attained to the manufacture of perfect discs up to 18 inches in diameter. An object-glass for which he had furnished the material to Cauchoix, procured him, in 1823, a royal invitation to settle in Paris; but he was no longer equal to the change, and died at the scene of his labours, February 13 following.

This same lens (12 inches across) was afterwards purchased by Sir James South, and the first observation made with it, February 13, 1830, disclosed to Sir John Herschel the sixth minute star in the central group of the Orion nebula, known as the "trapezium."[315] Bequeathed by South to Trinity College, Dublin, it was employed at the Dunsink Observatory by Bruennow and Ball in their investigations of stellar parallax. A still larger objective (of nearly 14 inches) made of Guinand's glass was secured in Paris, about the same time, by Mr. Edward Cooper of Markree Castle, Ireland. The peculiarity of the method discovered at Les Brenets resided in the manipulation, not in the quality of the ingredients; the secret, that is to say, was not chemical, but mechanical.[316] It was communicated by Henry Guinand (a son of the inventor) to Bontemps, one of the directors of the glassworks at Choisy-le-Roi, and by him transmitted to Messrs. Chance of Birmingham, with whom he entered into partnership when the revolutionary troubles of 1848 obliged him to quit his native country. The celebrated American opticians, Alvan Clark & Sons, derived from the Birmingham firm the materials for some of their early telescopes, notably the 19-inch Chicago and 26-inch Washington equatoreals; but the discs for the great Lick refractor, and others shaped by them in recent years, have been supplied by Feil of Paris.

Two distinguished amateurs, meanwhile, were preparing to reassert on behalf of reflecting instruments their claim to the place of honour in the van of astronomical discovery. Of Mr. Lassell's specula something has already been said.[317] They were composed of an alloy of copper and tin, with a minute proportion of arsenic (after the example of Newton[318]), and were remarkable for perfection of figure and brilliancy of surface.

The capabilities of the Newtonian plan were developed still more fully—it might almost be said to the uttermost—by the enterprise of an Irish nobleman. William Parsons, known as Lord Oxmantown until 1841, when, on his father's death, he succeeded to the title of Earl of Rosse, was born at York, June 17, 1800. His public duties began before his education was completed. He was returned to Parliament as member for King's County while still an undergraduate at Oxford, and continued to represent the same constituency for thirteen years (1821-34). From 1845 until his death, which took place, October 31, 1867, he sat, silent but assiduous, in the House of Lords as an Irish representative peer; he held the not unlaborious post of President of the Royal Society from 1849 to 1854; presided over the meeting of the British Association at Cork in 1843, and was elected Vice-Chancellor of Dublin University in 1862. In addition to these extensive demands upon his time and thoughts, were those derived from his position as practically the feudal chief of a large body of tenantry in times of great and anxious responsibility, to say nothing of the more genial claims of an unstinted hospitality. Yet, while neglecting no public or private duty, this model nobleman found leisure to render to science services so conspicuous as to entitle his name to a lasting place in its annals.

He early formed the design of reaching the limits of the attainable in enlarging the powers of the telescope, and the qualities of his mind conspired with the circumstances of his fortune to render the design a feasible one. From refractors it was obvious that no such vast and rapid advance could be expected. English glass-manufacture was still in a backward state. So late as 1839, Simms (successor to the distinguished instrumentalist Edward Troughton) reported a specimen of crystal scarcely 7-1/2 inches in diameter, and perfect only over six, to be unique in the history of English glass-making.[319] Yet at that time the fifteen-inch achromatic of Pulkowa had already left the workshop of Fraunhofer's successors at Munich. It was not indeed until 1845, when the impost which had so long hampered their efforts was removed, that the optical artists of these islands were able to compete on equal terms with their rivals on the Continent. In the case of reflectors, however, there seemed no insurmountable obstacle to an almost unlimited increase of light-gathering capacity; and it was here, after some unproductive experiments with fluid lenses, that Lord Oxmantown concentrated his energies.

He had to rely entirely on his own invention, and to earn his own experience. James Short had solved the problem of giving to metallic surfaces a perfect parabolic figure (the only one by which parallel incident rays can be brought to an exact focus); but so jealous was he of his secret, that he caused all his tools to be burnt before his death;[320] nor was anything known of the processes by which Herschel had achieved his astonishing results. Moreover, Lord Oxmantown had no skilled workmen to assist him. His implements, both animate and inanimate, had to be formed by himself. Peasants taken from the plough were educated by him into efficient mechanics and engineers. The delicate and complex machinery needed in operations of such hairbreadth nicety as his enterprise involved, the steam-engine which was to set it in motion, at times the very crucibles in which his specula were cast, issued from his own workshops.

In 1827 experiments on the composition of speculum-metal were set on foot, and the first polishing-machine ever driven by steam-power was contrived in 1828. But twelve arduous years of struggle with recurring difficulties passed before success began to dawn. A material less tractable than the alloy selected, of four chemical equivalents of copper to one of tin,[321] can scarcely be conceived. It is harder than steel, yet brittle as glass, crumbling into fragments with the slightest inadvertence of handling or treatment;[322] and the precision of figure requisite to secure good definition is almost beyond the power of language to convey. The quantities involved are so small as not alone to elude sight, but to confound imagination. Sir John Herschel tells us that "the total thickness to be abraded from the edge of a spherical speculum 48 inches in diameter and 40 feet focus, to convert it into a paraboloid, is only 1/21333 of an inch;"[323] yet upon this minute difference of form depends the clearness of the image, and, as a consequence, the entire efficiency of the instrument. "Almost infinite," indeed (in the phrase of the late Dr. Robinson), must be the exactitude of the operation adapted to bring about so delicate a result.

At length, in 1839, two specula, each three feet in diameter, were turned out in such perfection as to prompt a still bolder experiment. The various processes needed to insure success were now ascertained and under control; all that was necessary was to repeat them on a larger scale. A gigantic mirror, six feet across and fifty-four in focal length, was accordingly cast on the 13th of April, 1842; in two months it was ground down to figure by abrasion with emery and water, and daintily polished with rouge; and by the month of February, 1845, the "leviathan of Parsonstown" was available for the examination of the heavens.

The suitable mounting of this vast machine was a problem scarcely less difficult than its construction. The shape of a speculum needs to be maintained with an elaborate care equal to that used in imparting it. In fact, one of the most formidable obstacles to increasing the size of such reflecting surfaces consists in their liability to bend under their own weight. That of the great Rosse speculum was no less than four tons. Yet, although six inches in thickness, and composed of a material only a degree inferior in rigidity to wrought iron, the strong pressure of a man's hand at its back produced sufficient flexure to distort perceptibly the image of a star reflected in it.[324] Thus the delicacy of its form was perishable equally by the stress of its own gravity, and by the slightest irregularity in the means taken to counteract that stress. The problem of affording a perfectly equable support in all possible positions was solved by resting the speculum upon twenty-seven platforms of cast iron, felt-covered, and carefully fitted to the shape of the areas they were to carry, which platforms were themselves borne by a complex system of triangles and levers, ingeniously adapted to distribute the weight with complete uniformity.[325]

A tube which resembled, when erect, one of the ancient round towers of Ireland,[326] served as the habitation of the great mirror. It was constructed of deal staves bound together with iron hoops, was fifty-eight feet long (including the speculum-box), and seven in diameter. A reasonably tall man may walk through it (as Dean Peacock once did) with umbrella uplifted. Two piers of solid masonry, about fifty feet high, seventy long, and twenty-three apart, flanked the huge engine on either side. Its lower extremity rested on a universal joint of cast iron; above, it was slung in chains, and even in a gale of wind remained perfectly steady. The weight of the entire, although amounting to fifteen tons, was so skilfully counterpoised, that the tube could with ease be raised or depressed by two men working a windlass. Its horizontal range was limited by the lofty walls erected for its support to about ten degrees on each side of the meridian; but it moved vertically from near the horizon through the zenith as far as the pole. Its construction was of the Newtonian kind, the observer looking into the side of the tube near its upper end, which a series of galleries and sliding stages enabled him to reach in any position. It has also, though rarely, been used without a second mirror, as a "Herschelian" reflector.

The splendour of the celestial objects as viewed with this vast "light-grasper" surpassed all expectation. "Never in my life," exclaimed Sir James South, "did I see such glorious sidereal pictures."[327] The orb of Jupiter produced an effect compared to that of the introduction of a coach-lamp into the telescope;[328] and certain star-clusters exhibited an appearance (we again quote Sir James South) "such as man before had never seen, and which for its magnificence baffles all description." But it was in the examination of the nebulae that the superiority of the new instrument was most strikingly displayed. A large number of these misty objects, which the utmost powers of Herschel's specula had failed to resolve into stars, yielded at once to the Parsonstown reflector; while many others showed under entirely changed forms through the disclosure of previously unseen details of structure.

One extremely curious result of the increase of light was the abolition of any sharp distinction between the two classes of "annular" and "planetary" nebulae. Up to that time, only four ring-shaped systems—two in the northern and two in the southern hemisphere—were known to astronomers; they were now reinforced by five of the planetary kind, the discs of which were observed to be centrally perforated; while the definite margins visible in weaker instruments were replaced by ragged edges or filamentous fringes.

Still more striking was the discovery of an entirely new and most remarkable species of nebulae. These were termed "spiral," from the more or less regular convolutions, resembling the whorls of a shell, in which the matter composing them appeared to be distributed. The first and most conspicuous specimen of this class was met with in April, 1845; it is situated in Canes Venatici, close to the tail of the Great Bear, and wore, in Sir J. Herschel's instruments, the aspect of a split ring encompassing a bright nucleus, thus presenting, as he supposed, a complete analogue to the system of the Milky Way. In the Rosse mirror it shone out as a vast whirlpool of light—a stupendous witness to the presence of cosmical activities on the grandest scale, yet regulated by laws as to the nature of which we are profoundly ignorant. Professor Stephen Alexander of New Jersey, however, concluded, from an investigation (necessarily founded on highly precarious data) of the mechanical condition of these extraordinary agglomerations, that we see in them "the partially scattered fragments of enormous masses once rotating in a state of dynamical equilibrium." He further suggested "that the separation of these fragments may still be in progress,"[329] and traced back their origin to the disruption, through its own continually accelerated rotation, of a "primitive spheroid" of inconceivably vast dimensions. Such also, it was added (the curvilinear form of certain outliers of the Milky Way giving evidence of a spiral structure), is probably the history of our own cluster; the stars composing which, no longer held together in a delicately adjusted system like that of the sun and planets, are advancing through a period of seeming confusion towards an appointed goal of higher order and more perfect and harmonious adaptation.[330]

The class of spiral nebulae included, in 1850, fourteen members, besides several in which the characteristic arrangement seemed partial or dubious.[331] A tendency in the exterior stars of other clusters to gather into curved branches (as in our Galaxy) was likewise noted; and the existence of unsuspected analogies was proclaimed by the significant combination in the "Owl" nebula (a large planetary in Ursa Major)[332] of the twisted forms of a spiral with the perforated effect distinctive of an annular nebula.

Once more, by the achievements of the Parsonstown reflector, the supposition of a "shining fluid" filling vast regions of space was brought into (as it has since proved) undeserved discredit. Although Lord Rosse himself rejected the inference, that because many nebulae had been resolved, all were resolvable, very few imitated his truly scientific caution; and the results of Bond's investigations[333] with the Harvard College refractor quickened and strengthened the current of prevalent opinion. It is now certain that the evidence furnished on both sides of the Atlantic as to the stellar composition of some conspicuous objects of this class (notably the Orion and "Dumb-bell" nebulae) was delusive; but the spectroscope alone was capable of meeting it with a categorical denial. Meanwhile there seemed good ground for the persuasion, which now, for the last time, gained the upper hand, that nebulae are, without exception, true "island-universes," or assemblages of distant suns.

Lord Rosse's telescope possesses a nominal power of 6,000—that is, it shows the moon as if viewed with the naked eye at a distance of forty miles. But this seeming advantage is neutralised by the weakening of the available light through excessive diffusion, as well as by the troubles of the surging sea of air through which the observation must necessarily be made. Professor Newcomb, in fact, doubts whether with any telescope our satellite has ever been seen to such advantage as it would be if brought within 500 miles of the unarmed eye.[334]

The French opticians' rule of doubling the number of millimetres contained in the aperture of an instrument to find the highest magnifying power usually applicable to it, would give 3,600 as the maximum for the leviathan of Birr Castle; but in a climate like that of Ireland the occasions must be rare when even that limit can be reached. Indeed, the experience acquired by its use plainly shows that atmospheric rather than mechanical difficulties impede a still further increase of telescopic power. Its construction may accordingly be said to mark the ne plus ultra of effort in one direction, and the beginning of its conversion towards another. It became thenceforward more and more obvious that the conditions of observation must be ameliorated before any added efficacy could be given to it. The full effect of an uncertain climate in nullifying optical improvements was recognised, and the attention of astronomers began to be turned towards the advantages offered by more tranquil and more translucent skies.

Scarcely less important for the practical uses of astronomy than the optical qualities of the telescope is the manner of its mounting. The most admirable performance of the optician can render but unsatisfactory service if its mechanical accessories are ill-arranged or inconvenient. Thus the astronomer is ultimately dependent upon the mechanician; and so excellently have his needs been served, that the history of the ingenious contrivances by which discoveries have been prepared would supply a subject (here barely glanced at) not far inferior in extent and instruction to the history of those discoveries themselves.

There are two chief modes of using the telescope, to which all others may be considered subordinate.[335] Either it may be invariably directed towards the south, with no motion save in the plane of the meridian, so as to intercept the heavenly bodies at the moment of transit across that plain; or it may be arranged so as to follow the daily revolution of the sky, thus keeping the object viewed permanently in sight instead of simply noting the instant of its flitting across the telescopic field. The first plan is that of the "transit instrument," the second that of the "equatoreal." Both were, by a remarkable coincidence, introduced about 1690[336] by Olaus Roemer, the brilliant Danish astronomer who first measured the velocity of light.

The uses of each are entirely different. With the transit, the really fundamental task of astronomy—the determination of the movements of the heavenly bodies—is mainly accomplished; while the investigation of their nature and peculiarities is best conducted with the equatoreal. One is the instrument of mathematical, the other of descriptive astronomy. One furnishes the materials with which theories are constructed and the tests by which they are corrected; the other registers new facts, takes note of new appearances, sounds the depths and peers into every nook of the heavens.

The great improvement of giving to a telescope equatoreally mounted an automatic movement by connecting it with clockwork, was proposed in 1674 by Robert Hooke. Bradley in 1721 actually observed Mars with a telescope "moved by a machine that made it keep pace with the stars;"[337] and Von Zach relates[338] that he had once followed Sirius for twelve hours with a "heliostat" of Ramsden's construction. But these eighteenth-century attempts were of no practical effect. Movement by clockwork was virtually a complete novelty when it was adopted by Fraunhofer in 1824 to the Dorpat refractor. By simply giving to an axis unvaryingly directed towards the celestial pole an equable rotation with a period of twenty-four hours, a telescope attached to it, and pointed in any direction, will trace out on the sky a parallel of declination, thus necessarily accompanying the movement of any star upon which it may be fixed. It accordingly forms part of the large sum of Fraunhofer's merits to have secured this inestimable advantage to observers.

Sir John Herschel considered that Lassell's application of equatoreal mounting to a nine-inch Newtonian in 1840 made an epoch in the history of "that eminently British instrument, the reflecting telescope."[339] Nearly a century earlier,[340] it is true, Short had fitted one of his Gregorians to a complicated system of circles in such a manner that, by moving a handle, it could be made to follow the revolution of the sky; but the arrangement did not obtain, nor did it deserve, general adoption. Lassell's plan was a totally different one; he employed the crossed axes of the true equatoreal, and his success removed, to a great extent, the fatal objection of inconvenience in use, until then unanswerably urged against reflectors. The very largest of these can now be mounted equatoreally; even the Rosse, within its limited range, has been for some years provided with a movement by clockwork along declination-parallels.

The art of accurately dividing circular arcs into the minute equal parts which serve as the units of astronomical measurement, remained, during the whole of the eighteenth century, almost exclusively in English hands. It was brought to a high degree of perfection by Graham, Bird and Ramsden, all of whom, however, gave the preference to the old-fashioned mural quadrant and zenith-sector over the entire circle, which Roemer had already found the advantage of employing. The five-foot vertical circle, which Piazzi with some difficulty induced Ramsden to complete for him in 1789, was the first divided instrument constructed in what may be called the modern style. It was provided with magnifiers for reading off the divisions (one of the neglected improvements of Roemer), and was set up above a smaller horizontal circle, forming an "altitude and azimuth" combination (again Roemer's invention), by which both the elevation of a celestial object above the horizon and its position as referred to the horizon could be measured. In the same year, Borda invented the "repeating circle" (the principle of which had been suggested by Tobias Mayer in 1756[341]), a device for exterminating, so far as possible, errors of graduation by repeating an observation with different parts of the limb. This was perhaps the earliest systematic effort to correct the imperfections of instruments by the manner of their use.

The manufacture of astronomical circles was brought to a very refined state of excellence early in the nineteenth century by Reichenbach at Munich, and after 1818 by Repsold at Hamburg. Bessel states[342] that the "reading-off" on an instrument of the kind by the latter artist was accurate to about 1/80th of a human hair. Meanwhile the traditional reputation of the English school was fully sustained; and Sir George Airy did not hesitate to express his opinion that the new method of graduating circles, published by Troughton in 1809,[343] was the "greatest improvement ever made in the art of instrument-making."[344] But a more secure road to improvement than that of mere mechanical exactness was pointed out by Bessel. His introduction of a regular theory of instrumental errors might almost be said to have created a new art of observation. Every instrument, he declared in memorable words,[345] must be twice made—once by the artist, and again by the observer. Knowledge is power. Defects that are ascertained and can be allowed for are as good as non-existent. Thus the truism that the best instrument is worthless in the hands of a careless or clumsy observer, became supplemented by the converse maxim, that defective appliances may, through skilful use, be made to yield valuable results. The Koenigsberg observations—of which the first instalment was published in 1815—set the example of regular "reduction" for instrumental errors. Since then, it has become an elementary part of an astronomer's duty to study the idiosyncrasy of each one of the mechanical contrivances at his disposal, in order that its inevitable, but now certified deviations from ideal accuracy may be included amongst the numerous corrections by which the pure essence of even approximate truth is distilled from the rude impressions of sense.

Nor is this enough; for the casual circumstances attending each observation have to be taken into account with no less care than the inherent or constitutional peculiarities of the instrument with which it is made. There is no "once for all" in astronomy. Vigilance can never sleep; patience can never tire. Variable as well as constant sources of error must be anxiously heeded; one infinitesimal inaccuracy must be weighed against another; all the forces and vicissitudes of nature—frosts, dews, winds, the interchanges of heat, the disturbing effects of gravity, the shiverings of the air, the tremors of the earth, the weight and vital warmth of the observer's own body, nay, the rate at which his brain receives and transmits its impressions, must all enter into his calculations, and be sifted out from his results.

It was in 1823 that Bessel drew attention to discrepancies in the times of transits given by different astronomers.[346] The quantities involved were far from insignificant. He was himself nearly a second in advance of all his contemporaries, Argelander lagging behind him as much as a second and a quarter. Each individual, in fact, was found to have a certain definite rate of perception, which, under the name of "personal equation," now forms so important an element in the correction of observations that a special instrument for accurately determining its amount in each case is in actual use at Greenwich.

Such are the refinements upon which modern astronomy depends for its progress. It is a science of hairbreadths and fractions of a second. It exists only by the rigid enforcement of arduous accuracy and unwearying diligence. Whatever secrets the universe still has in store for man will only be communicated on these terms. They are, it must be acknowledged, difficult to comply with. They involve an unceasing struggle against the infirmities of his nature and the instabilities of his position. But the end is not unworthy the sacrifices demanded. One additional ray of light thrown on the marvels of creation—a single, minutest encroachment upon the strongholds of ignorance—is recompense enough for a lifetime of toil. Or rather, the toil is its own reward, if pursued in the lofty spirit which alone becomes it. For it leads through the abysses of space and the unending vistas of time to the very threshold of that infinity and eternity of which the disclosure is reserved for a life to come.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 305: Grant, Hist. Astr., p. 527.]

[Footnote 306: Optica Promota, p. 93.]

[Footnote 307: Phil. Trans., vol. xxxii., p. 383.]

[Footnote 308: Ibid., vol. xc., p. 65.]

[Footnote 309: Cassegrain, a Frenchman, substituted in 1672 a convex for a concave secondary speculum. The tube was thereby enabled to be shortened by twice the focal length of the mirror in question. The great Melbourne reflector (four feet aperture, by Grubb) is constructed upon this plan.]

[Footnote 310: Phil. Trans., vol. civ., p. 275, note.]

[Footnote 311: Phil. Trans., vol. xc., p. 70. With the forty-foot, however, only very moderate powers seemed to have been employed, whence Dr. Robinson argued a deficiency of defining power. Proc. Roy. Irish Ac., vol. ii., p. 11.]

[Footnote 312: Phil. Trans., vol. lxxi., p. 492.]

[Footnote 313: It is remarkable that, as early as 1695, the possibility of an achromatic combination was inferred by David Gregory from the structure of the human eye. See his Catoptricae et Dioptricae Sphericae Elementa, p. 98.]

[Footnote 314: Wolf, Biographien, Bd. ii., p. 301.]

[Footnote 315: Month. Not., vol. i., p. 153. note.]

[Footnote 316: Henrivaux, Encyclopedie Chimique, t. v., fasc. 5, p. 363.]

[Footnote 317: See ante, p. 83.]

[Footnote 318: Phil. Trans., vol. vii., p. 4007.]

[Footnote 319: J. Herschel, The Telescope, p. 39.]

[Footnote 320: Month. Not., vol. xxix., p. 125.]

[Footnote 321: A slight excess of copper renders the metal easier to work, but liable to tarnish. Robinson, Proc. Roy. Irish Ac., vol. ii., p. 4.]

[Footnote 322: Brit. Ass., 1843, Dr. Robinson's closing Address. Athenaeum, Sept. 23, p. 866.]

[Footnote 323: The Telescope, p. 82.]

[Footnote 324: Lord Rosse in Phil. Trans., vol. cxl., p. 302.]

[Footnote 325: This method is the same in principle with that applied by Grubb in 1834 to a 15-inch speculum for the observatory of Armagh. Phil. Trans., vol. clix., p. 145.]

[Footnote 326: Robinson, Proc. Roy. Ir. Ac., vol. iii., p. 120.]

[Footnote 327: Astr. Nach., No. 536.]

[Footnote 328: Airy, Month. Not., vol. ix., p. 120.]

[Footnote 329: Astronomical Journal (Gould's), vol. ii., p. 97.]

[Footnote 330: Ibid., p. 160.]

[Footnote 331: Lord Rosse in Phil. Trans., vol. cxl., p. 505.]

[Footnote 332: No. 2343 of Herschel's (1864) Catalogue. Before 1850 a star was visible in each of the two larger openings by which it is pierced; since then, one only. Webb, Celestial Objects (4th ed.), p. 409.]

[Footnote 333: Mem. Am. Ac., vol. iii., p. 87; Astr. Nach., No. 611.]

[Footnote 334: Pop. Astr., p. 145.]

[Footnote 335: This statement must be taken in the most general sense. Supplementary observations of great value are now made at Greenwich with the altitude and azimuth instrument, which likewise served Piazzi to determine the places of his stars; while a "prime vertical instrument" is prominent at Pulkowa.]

[Footnote 336: As early as 1620, according to R. Wolf (Ges. der Astr., p. 587), Father Scheiner made the experiment of connecting a telescope with an axis directed to the pole, while Chinese "equatoreal armillae," dating from the thirteenth century, existed at Pekin until 1900, when they were carried off as "loot" to Berlin. J. L. E. Dreyer, Copernicus, vol. i., p. 134.]

[Footnote 337: Miscellaneous Works, p. 350.]

[Footnote 338: Astr. Jahrbuch, 1799 (published 1796), p. 115.]

[Footnote 339: Month. Not., vol. xli., p. 189.]

[Footnote 340: Phil. Trans., vol. xlvi., p. 242.]

[Footnote 341: Grant, Hist. of Astr., p. 487.]

[Footnote 342: Pop. Vorl., p. 546.]

[Footnote 343: Phil. Trans., vol. xcix., p. 105.]

[Footnote 344: Report Brit. Ass., 1832, p. 132.]

[Footnote 345: Pop. Vorl., p. 432.]

[Footnote 346: C. T. Anger, Grundzuege der neucren astronomischen Beobachtungs-Kunst, p. 3.]



PART II

RECENT PROGRESS OF ASTRONOMY

CHAPTER I

FOUNDATION OF ASTRONOMICAL PHYSICS

In the year 1826, Heinrich Schwabe of Dessau, elated with the hope of speedily delivering himself from the hereditary incubus of an apothecary's shop,[347] obtained from Munich a small telescope and began to observe the sun. His choice of an object for his researches was instigated by his friend Harding of Gottingen. It was a peculiarly happy one. The changes visible in the solar surface were then generally regarded as no less capricious than the changes in the skies of our temperate regions. Consequently, the reckoning and registering of sun-spots was a task hardly more inviting to an astronomer than the reckoning and registering of summer clouds. Cassini, Keill, Lemonnier, Lalande, were unanimous in declaring that no trace of regularity could be detected in their appearances or effacements.[348] Delambre pronounced them "more curious than really useful."[349] Even Herschel, profoundly as he studied them, and intimately as he was convinced of their importance as symptoms of solar activity, saw no reason to suspect that their abundance and scarcity were subject to orderly alternation. One man alone in the eighteenth century, Christian Horrebow of Copenhagen, divined their periodical character, and foresaw the time when the effects of the sun's vicissitudes upon the globes revolving round him might be investigated with success; but this prophetic utterance was of the nature of a soliloquy rather than of a communication, and remained hidden away in an unpublished journal until 1859, when it was brought to light in a general ransacking of archives.[350]

Indeed, Schwabe himself was far from anticipating the discovery which fell to his share. He compared his fortune to that of Saul, who, seeking his father's asses, found a kingdom.[351] For the hope which inspired his early resolution lay in quite another direction. His patient ambush was laid for a possible intramercurial planet, which, he thought, must sooner or later betray its existence in crossing the face of the sun. He took, however, the most effectual measures to secure whatever new knowledge might be accessible. During forty-three years his "imperturbable telescope"[352] never failed, weather and health permitting, to bring in its daily report as to how many, or if any, spots were visible on the sun's disc, the information obtained being day by day recorded on a simple and unvarying system. In 1843 he made his first announcement of a probable decennial period,[353] but it met with no general attention; although Julius Schmidt of Bonn (afterwards director of the Athens Observatory) and Gautier of Geneva were impressed with his figures, and Littrow had himself, in 1836,[354] hinted at the likelihood of some kind of regular recurrence. Schwabe, however, worked on, gathering each year fresh evidence of a law such as he had indicated; and when Humboldt published in 1851, in the third volume of his Kosmos,[355] a table of the sun-spot statistics collected by him from 1826 downwards, the strength of his case was perceived with, so to speak, a start of surprise; the reality and importance of the discovery were simultaneously recognised, and the persevering Hofrath of Dessau found himself famous among astronomers. His merit—recognised by the bestowal of the Astronomical Society's Gold Medal in 1857—consisted in his choice of an original and appropriate line of work, and in the admirable tenacity of purpose with which he pursued it. His resources and acquirements were those of an ordinary amateur; he was distinguished solely by the unfortunately rare power of turning both to the best account. He died where he was born and had lived, April 11, 1875, at the ripe age of eighty-six.

Meanwhile an investigation of a totally different character, and conducted by totally different means, had been prosecuted to a very similar conclusion. Two years after Schwabe began his solitary observations, Humboldt gave the first impulse, at the Scientific Congress of Berlin in 1828, to a great international movement for attacking simultaneously, in various parts of the globe, the complex problem of terrestrial magnetism. Through the genius and energy of Gauss, Gottingen became its centre. Thence new apparatus, and a new system for its employment, issued; there, in 1833, the first regular magnetic observatory was founded, whilst at Gottingen was fixed the universal time-standard for magnetic observations. A letter addressed by Humboldt in April, 1836, to the Duke of Sussex as President of the Royal Society, enlisted the co-operation of England. A network of magnetic stations was spread all over the British dominions, from Canada to Van Diemen's Land; measures were concerted with foreign authorities, and an expedition was fitted out, under the able command of Captain (afterwards Sir James) Clark Ross, for the special purpose of bringing intelligence on the subject from the dismal neighbourhood of the South Pole. In 1841, the elaborate organisation created by the disinterested efforts of scientific "agitators" was complete; Gauss's "magnetometers" were vibrating under the view of attentive observers in five continents, and simultaneous results began to be recorded.

Ten years later, in September, 1851, Dr. John Lamont, the Scotch director of the Munich Observatory, in reviewing the magnetic observations made at Gottingen and Munich from 1835 to 1850, perceived with some surprise that they gave unmistakable indications of a period which he estimated at 10-1/3 years.[356] The manner in which this periodicity manifested itself requires a word of explanation. The observations in question referred to what is called the "declination" of the magnetic needle—that is, to the position assumed by it with reference to the points of the compass when moving freely in a horizontal plane. Now this position—as was discovered by Graham in 1722—is subject to a small daily fluctuation, attaining its maximum towards the east about 8 A.M., and its maximum towards the west shortly before 2 P.M. In other words, the direction of the needle approaches (in these countries at the present time) nearest to the true north some four hours before noon, and departs farthest from it between one and two hours after noon. It was the range of this daily variation that Lamont found to increase and diminish once in every 10-1/3 years.

In the following winter, Sir Edward Sabine, ignorant as yet of Lamont's conclusion, undertook to examine a totally different set of observations. The materials in his hands had been collected at the British colonial stations of Toronto and Hobarton from 1843 to 1848, and had reference, not to the regular diurnal swing of the needle, but to those curious spasmodic vibrations, the inquiry into the laws of which was the primary object of the vast organisation set on foot by Humboldt and Gauss. Yet the upshot was practically the same. Once in about ten years, magnetic disturbances (termed by Humboldt "storms") were perceived to reach a maximum of violence and frequency. Sabine was the first to note the coincidence between this unlooked-for result and Schwabe's sun-spot period. He showed that, so far as observation had yet gone, the two cycles of change agreed perfectly both in duration and phase, maximum corresponding to maximum, minimum to minimum. What the nature of the connection could be that bound together by a common law effects so dissimilar as the rents in the luminous garment of the sun, and the swayings to and fro of the magnetic needle, was and still remains beyond the reach of well-founded theory; but the fact was from the first undeniable.

The memoir containing this remarkable disclosure was presented to the Royal Society, March 18, and read May 6, 1852.[357] On the 31st of July following, Rudolf Wolf at Berne,[358] and on the 18th of August, Alfred Gautier at Sion,[359] announced, separately and independently, perfectly similar conclusions. This triple event is perhaps the most striking instance of the successful employment of the Baconian method of co-operation in discovery, by which "particulars" are amassed by one set of investigators—corresponding to the "Depredators" and "Inoculators" of Solomon's House—while inductions are drawn from them by another and a higher class—the "Interpreters of Nature." Yet even here the convergence of two distinct lines of research was wholly fortuitous, and skilful combination owed the most brilliant part of its success to the unsought bounty of what we call Fortune.