Part 13

This protuberant matter near the equator gives the other bodies in the solar system an opportunity to disturb the earth's rotation. The general effect of all these attractions is to make the celestial pole move upon the sky in a circle having a radius of about 23½ degrees; and it requires 25,800 years to complete a circuit of this precessional cycle. One of the most striking consequences of this motion will be the change of the polar star. Just at present the bright star Polaris in the constellation of the Little Bear is very close to the pole. But after the lapse of sufficient ages the first-magnitude star Vega of the constellation Lyra will in its turn become Guardian of the Pole.

It must not be supposed, however, that the motion of the pole proceeds quite uniformly, and in an exact circle; the varying positions of the heavenly bodies whose attractions cause the phenomena in question are such as to produce appreciable divergencies from exact circular motion. Sometimes the pole deviates a little to one side of the precessional circle, and sometimes it deviates on the other side. The final result is a sort of wavy line, half on one side and half on the other of an average circular curve. It takes only nineteen years to complete one of these little waves of polar motion, so that in the whole precessional cycle of 25,800 years there are about 1,400 indentations. This disturbance of the polar motion is called by astronomers nutation.

The first step in a study of polar motion is to devise a method of finding just where the pole is on any given date. If the astronomer can ascertain by observational processes just where the pole is among the stars at any moment, and can repeat his observations year after year and generation after generation, he will possess in time a complete chart of a small portion at least of the celestial pole's vast orbit. From this he can obtain necessary data for a study of the mathematical theory of attractions, and thus, perhaps, arrive at an explanation of the fundamental laws governing the universe in which we live.

The instrument which has been used most extensively for the study of these problems is the transit (p. 118) or the "meridian circle." This latter consists of a telescope firmly attached to a metallic axis about which it can turn. The axis itself rests on massive stone supports, and is so placed that it points as nearly as possible in an east-and-west direction. Consequently, when the telescope is turned about its axis, it will trace out on the sky a great circle (the meridian) which passes through the north and south points of the horizon and the point directly overhead. The instrument has also a metallic circle very firmly fastened to the telescope and its axis. Let into the surface of this circle is a silver disk upon which are engraved a series of lines or graduations by means of which it is possible to measure angles.

Observers with the meridian circle begin by noting the exact instant when any given star passes the centre of the field of view of the telescope. This centre is marked with a cross made by fastening into the focus some pieces of ordinary spider's web, which give a well-marked, delicate set of lines, even under the magnifying power of the telescope's eye-piece. In addition to thus noting the time when the star crosses the field of the telescope, the astronomer can measure by means of the circle, how high up it was in the sky at the instant when it was thus observed.

If the telescope of the meridian circle be turned toward the north, and we observe stars close to the pole, it is possible to make two different observations of the same star. For the close polar stars revolve in such small circles around the pole of the heavens that we can observe them when they are on the meridian either above the pole or below it. Double observations of this class enable us to obtain the elevation of the pole above the horizon, and to fix its position with respect to the stars.

Now, there is one very serious objection to this method. In order to secure the two necessary observations of the same star, it is essential to be stationed at the instrument at two moments of time separated by exactly twelve hours; and if one of the observations occurs in the night, the other corresponding observation will occur in daylight.

It is a fact not generally known that the brighter stars can be seen with a telescope, even when the sun is quite high above the horizon. Unfortunately, however, there is only one star close to the pole which is bright enough to be thus observed in daylight--the polar star already mentioned under the name Polaris. The fact that we are thus limited to observations of a single star has made it difficult even for generations of astronomers to accumulate with the meridian circle a very large quantity of observational material suitable for the solution of our problem.

The new method of observation to which we have referred above consists in an application of photography to the polar problem. If we aim at the pole a powerful photographic telescope, and expose a photographic plate throughout the entire night, we shall find that all stars coming within the range of the plate will mark out little circles or "trails" upon the developed negative. It is evident that as the stars revolve about the pole on the sky, tracing out their daily circular orbits, these same little circles must be reproduced faithfully upon the photographic plate. The only condition is that the stars shall be bright enough to make their light affect the sensitive gelatine surface.

But even if observations of this kind are continued throughout all the hours of darkness, we do not obtain complete circles, but only those portions of circles traced out on the sky between sunset and sunrise. If the night is twelve hours in length, we get half-circles on the plate; if it is eighteen hours long, we get circles that lack only one-quarter of being complete. In other words, we get a series of circular arcs, one corresponding to each close polar star. There are no fewer than sixteen stars near enough to the pole to come within the range of a photographic plate, and bright enough to cause measurable impressions upon the sensitive surface. The fact that the circular arcs are not complete circles does not in the least prevent our using them for ascertaining the position of their common centre; and that centre is the pole. Moreover, as the arcs are distributed at all sorts of distances from the pole and in all directions, corresponding to the accidental positions of the stars on the sky, we have a state of affairs extremely favorable to the accurate determination of the pole's place among the stars by means of microscopic measurements of the plate.

It will be perceived that this method is extremely simple, and, therefore, likely to be successful; though its simplicity is slightly impaired by the phenomenon known to astronomers as "atmospheric refraction." The rays of light coming down to our telescopes from a distant star must pass through the earth's atmosphere before they reach us; and in passing thus from the nothingness of outer space into the denser material of the air, they are bent out of their straight course. The phenomenon is analogous to what we see when we push a stick down through the surface of still water; we notice that the stick appears to be bent at the point where it pierces the surface of the water; and in just the same way the rays of light are bent when they pierce into the air. Fortunately, the mathematical theory of this atmospheric bending of light is well understood, so that it is possible to remove the effects of refraction from our results by a process of calculation. In other words, we can transform our photographic measures into what they would have been if no such thing as atmospheric refraction existed. This having been done, all the arcs on the plate should be exactly circular, and their common centre should be the position of the pole among the stars on the night when the photograph was made.

It is possible to facilitate the removal of refraction effects very much by placing our photographic telescope at some point on the earth situated in a very high latitude. The elevation of the pole above the horizon is greatest in high latitudes. Indeed, if Arctic voyagers could ever reach the pole of the earth they would see the pole of the heavens directly overhead. Now, the higher up the pole is in the sky, the less will be the effects of atmospheric refraction; for the rays of light will then strike the atmosphere in a direction nearly perpendicular to its surface, which is favorable to diminishing the amount of bending.

There is also another very important advantage in placing the telescope in a high latitude; in the middle of winter the nights are very long there; if we could get within the Arctic. Circle itself, there would be nights when the hours of darkness would number twenty-four, and we could substitute complete circles for our broken arcs. This would, indeed, be most favorable from the astronomical point of view; but the essential condition of convenience for the observer renders an expedition to the frozen Arctic regions unadvisable.

But it is at least possible to place the telescope as far north as is consistent with retaining it within the sphere of civilized influences. We can put it in that one of existing observatories on the earth which has the highest latitude; and this is the observatory of Helsingfors, in Finland, which belongs to a great university, is manned by competent astronomers, and has a latitude greater than 60 degrees.

Dr. Anders Donner, Director of the Helsingfors Observatory, has at its disposal a fine photographic telescope, and with this some preliminary experimental "trail" photographs were made in 1895. These photographs were sent to Columbia University, New York, and were there measured under the writer's direction. Calculations based on these measures indicate that the method is promising in a very high degree; and it was, therefore, decided to construct a special photographic telescope better adapted to the particular needs of the problem in hand.

The desirability of a new telescope arises from the fact that we wish the instrument to remain absolutely unmoved during all the successive hours of the photographic exposure. It is clear that if the telescope moves while the stars are tracing out their little trails on the plate, the circularity of the curves will be disturbed. Now, ordinary astronomical telescopes are always mounted upon very stable foundations, well adapted to making the telescope stand still; but the polar telescope which we wish to use in a research fundamental to the entire science of astronomy ought to possess immobility and stability of an order higher than that required for ordinary astronomical purposes.

It is a remarkable peculiarity of the instrument needed for the new trail photographs that it is never moved at all. Once pointed at the pole, it is ready for all the observations of successive generations of astronomers. It should have no machinery, no pivots, axes, circles, clocks, or other paraphernalia of the usual equatorial telescope. All we want is a very heavy stone pier, with a telescope tube firmly fastened to it throughout its entire length. The top of the pier having been cut to the proper angle of the pole's elevation, and the telescope cemented down, everything is complete from the instrumental side; and just such an instrument as this is now ready for use at Helsingfors.

The late Miss Catharine Wolfe Bruce, of New York, was much interested in the writer's proposed polar investigations, and in October, 1898, she contributed funds for the construction of the new telescope, and the Russian authorities have generously undertaken the expense of a building to hold the instrument and the granite foundation upon which it rests. Photographs are now being secured with the new instrument, and they will be sent to Columbia University, New York, for measurement and discussion. It is hoped that they will carry out the promise of the preliminary photographs made in 1895 with a less suitable telescope of the ordinary form.

THE MOON HOAX

The public attitude toward matters scientific is one of the mysteries of our time. It can be described best by the single word, Credulity; simple, absolute credulity. Perfect confidence is the most remarkable characteristic of this unbelieving age. No charlatan, necromancer, or astrologer of three centuries ago commanded more respectful attention than does his successor of to-day.

Any person can be a scientific authority; he has but to call himself by that title, and everyone will give him respectful attention. Numerous instances can be adduced from the experience of very recent years to show how true are these remarks. We have had the Keeley motor and the liquid-air power schemes for making something out of nothing. Extracting gold from sea-water has been duly heralded on scientific authority as an easy source of fabulous wealth for the million. Hard-headed business men not only believe in such things, but actually invest in them their most valued possession, capital. Venders of nostrums and proprietary medicines acquire wealth as if by magic, though it needs but a moment's reflection to realize that these persons cannot possibly be in possession of any drugs, or secret methods of compounding drugs, that are unknown to scientific chemists.

If the world, then, will persistently intrust its health and wealth into the safe-keeping of charlatans, what can we expect when things supposedly of far less value are at stake? The famous Moon Hoax, as we now call it, is truly a classic piece of lying. Though it dates from as long ago as 1835, it has never had an equal as a piece of "modern" journalism. Nothing could be more useful than to recall it to public attention at least once every decade; for it teaches an important lesson that needs to be iterated again and again.

On November 13, 1833, Sir John Herschel embarked on the Mountstuart Elphinstone, bound for the Cape of Good Hope. He took with him a collection of astronomical instruments, with which he intended to study the heavens of the southern hemisphere, and thus extend his father's great work to the south polar stars. An earnest student of astronomy, he asked no better than to be left in peace to seek the truth in his own fashion. Little did he think that his expedition would be made the basis for a fabrication of alleged astronomical discoveries destined to startle a hemisphere. Yet that is precisely what happened. Some time about the middle of the year 1835 the New York Sun began the publication of certain articles, purporting to give an account of "Great Astronomical Discoveries, lately made by Sir John Herschel at the Cape of Good Hope." It was alleged that these articles were taken from a supplement to the Edinburgh Journal of Science; yet there is no doubt that they were manufactured entirely in the United States, and probably in New York.

The hoax begins at once in a grandiloquent style, calculated to attract popular attention, and well fitted to the marvels about to be related. Here is an introductory remark, as a specimen: "It has been poetically said that the stars of heaven are the hereditary regalia of man as the intellectual sovereign of the animal creation. He may now fold the zodiac around him with a loftier consciousness of his mental supremacy." Then follows a circumstantial and highly plausible account of the manner in which early and exclusive information was obtained from the Cape. This was, of course, important in order to make people believe in the genuineness of the whole; but we pass at once to the more interesting account of Herschel's supposed instrument.

Nothing could be more skilful than the way in which an air of truth is cast over the coming account of marvellous discoveries by explaining in detail the construction of the imaginary Herschelian instrument. Sir John is supposed to have had an interesting conversation in England "with Sir David Brewster, upon the merits of some ingenious suggestion by the latter, in his article on optics in the Edinburgh Encyclopædia (p. 644), for improvements in the Newtonian reflectors." The exact reference to a particular page is here quite delightful. After some further talk, "the conversation became directed to that all-invincible enemy, the paucity of light in powerful magnifiers. After a few moments' silent thought, Sir John diffidently inquired whether it would not be possible to effect a transfusion of artificial light through the focal object of vision! Sir David, somewhat startled at the originality of the idea, paused awhile, and then hesitatingly referred to the refrangibility of rays, and the angle of incidence.... Sir John continued, 'Why cannot the illuminated microscope, say the hydro-oxygen, be applied to render distinct, and, if necessary, even to magnify the focal object?' Sir David sprang from his chair in an ecstasy of conviction, and leaping half-way to the ceiling, exclaimed, 'Thou art the man.' "This absurd imaginary conversation contains nothing but an assemblage of optical jargon, put together without the slightest intention of conveying any intelligible meaning to scientific people. Yet it was well adapted to deceive the public; and we should not be surprised if it would be credited by many newspaper readers to-day.

The authors go on to explain how money was raised to build the new instrument, and then describe Herschers embarkation and the difficulties connected with transporting his gigantic machines to the place selected for the observing station. "Sir John accomplished the ascent to the plains by means of two relief teams of oxen, of eighteen each, in about four days, and, aided by several companies of Dutch boors [sic], proceeded at once to the erecting of his gigantic fabric." The place really selected by Herschel cannot be described better than in his own words, contained in a genuine letter dated January 21, 1835: "A perfect paradise in rich and magnificent mountain scenery, sheltered from all winds.... I must reserve for my next all description of the gorgeous display of flowers which adorn this splendid country, as well as the astonishing brilliancy of the constellations." The author of the hoax could have had no knowledge of Herschers real location, as described in this letter.

The present writer can bear witness to the correctness of Herschel's words. Feldhausen is truly an ideal secluded spot for astronomical study. A small obelisk under the sheer cliff of far-famed Table Mountain now marks the site of the great reflecting telescope. Here Herschel carried on his scrutiny of the Southern skies. He observed 1,202 double stars and 1,708 nebulæ and clusters, of which only 439 were already known. He studied the famous Magellanic clouds, and made the first careful drawings of the "keyhole" nebula in the constellation Argo.

Very recent researches of the present royal astronomer at the Cape have shown that changes of import have certainly taken place in this nebula since Herschel's time, when a sudden blazing up of the wonderful star Eta Argus was seen within the nebula. This object has, perhaps, undergone more remarkable changes of light than any other star in the heavens. It is as though there were some vast conflagration at work, now blazing into incandescence, and again sinking almost into invisibility. In 1843 Maclear estimated the brilliancy of Eta to be about equal to that of Sirius, the brightest star in the whole sky. Later it diminished in light, and cannot be seen to-day with the naked eye, though the latest telescopic observations indicate that it is again beginning to brighten.