The Story of the Heavens

verify the fact. The sun rose bright on the morning of the day—which happened to be a Sunday. The clerical profession, which Horrocks followed, here came into collision with his desires as an astronomer. He tells us that at nine he was called away by business of the highest importance—referring, no doubt, to his official duties; but the service was quickly performed, and a little before ten he was again on the watch, only to find the brilliant face of the sun without any unusual feature. It was marked with a spot, but nothing that could[Pg 180] be mistaken for a planet. Again, at noon, came an interruption; he went to church, but he was back by one. Nor were these the only impediments to his observations. The sun was also more or less clouded over during part of the day. However, at a quarter past three in the afternoon his clerical work was over; the clouds had dispersed, and he once more resumed his observations. To his intense delight he then saw on the sun the round, dark spot, which was at once identified as the planet Venus. The observations could not last long; it was the depth of winter, and the sun was rapidly setting. Only half an hour was available, but he had made such careful preparations beforehand that it sufficed to enable him to secure some valuable measurements. Horrocks had previously acquainted his friend, William Crabtree, with the impending occurrence. Crabtree was therefore on the watch, and succeeded in seeing the transit; a striking picture of Crabtree's famous observation is shown in one of the beautiful frescoes in the Town Hall at Manchester. But to no one else had Horrocks communicated the intelligence; as he says, "I hope to be excused for not informing other of my friends of the expected phenomenon, but most of them care little for trifles of this kind, rather preferring their hawks and hounds, to say no worse; and although England is not without votaries of astronomy, with some of whom I am acquainted, I was unable to convey to them the agreeable tidings, having myself had so little notice." It was not till long afterwards that the full importance of the transit of Venus was appreciated. Nearly a century had rolled away when the great astronomer, Halley (1656–1742), drew attention to the subject. The next transit was to occur in 1761, and forty-five years before that event Halley explained his celebrated method of finding the distance of the sun by means of the transit of Venus.[15] He was then a man sixty years of age; he could have no expectation that he would live to witness the event; but in noble[Pg 181] language he commends the problem to the notice of the learned, and thus addresses the Royal Society of London:—"And this is what I am now desirous to lay before this illustrious Society, which I foretell will continue for ages, that I may explain beforehand to young astronomers, who may, perhaps, live to observe these things, a method by which the immense distance of the sun may be truly obtained.... I recommend it, therefore, again and again to those curious astronomers who, when I am dead, will have an opportunity of observing these things, that they would remember this my admonition, and diligently apply themselves with all their might in making the observations, and I earnestly wish them all imaginable success—in the first place, that they may not by the unseasonable obscurity of a cloudy sky be deprived of this most desirable sight, and then that, having ascertained with more exactness the magnitudes of the planetary orbits, it may redound to their immortal fame and glory." Halley lived to a good old age, but he died nineteen years before the transit occurred. The student of astronomy who desires to learn how the transit of Venus will tell the distance from the sun must prepare to encounter a geometrical problem of no little complexity. We cannot give to the subject the detail that would be requisite for a full explanation. All we can attempt is to render a general account of the method, sufficient to enable the reader to see that the transit of Venus really does contain all the elements necessary for the solution of the problem. We must first explain clearly the conception which is known to astronomers by the name of parallax; for it is by parallax that the distance of the sun, or, indeed, the distance of any other celestial body, must be determined. Let us take a simple illustration. Stand near a window whence you can look at buildings, or the trees, the clouds, or any distant objects. Place on the glass a thin strip of paper vertically in the middle of one of the panes. Close the right eye, and note with the left eye the position of the strip of paper relatively to the objects in the background. Then, while still remaining in the same position, close the left eye and[Pg 182] again observe the position of the strip of paper with the right eye. You will find that the position of the paper on the background has changed. As I sit in my study and look out of the window I see a strip of paper, with my right eye, in front of a certain bough on a tree a couple of hundred yards away; with my left eye the paper is no longer in front of that bough, it has moved to a position near the outline of the tree. This apparent displacement of the strip of paper, relatively to the distant background, is what is called parallax. Move closer to the window, and repeat the observation, and you find that the apparent displacement of the strip increases. Move away from the window, and the displacement decreases. Move to the other side of the room, the displacement is much less, though probably still visible. We thus see that the change in the apparent place of the strip of paper, as viewed with the right eye or the left eye, varies in amount as the distance changes; but it varies in the opposite way to the distance, for as either becomes greater the other becomes less. We can thus associate with each particular distance a corresponding particular displacement. From this it will be easy to infer that if we have the means of measuring the amount of displacement, then we have the means of calculating the distance from the observer to the window. It is this principle, applied on a gigantic scale, which enables us to measure the distances of the heavenly bodies. Look, for instance, at the planet Venus; let this correspond to the strip of paper, and let the sun, on which Venus is seen in the act of transit, be the background. Instead of the two eyes of the observer, we now place two observatories in distant regions of the earth; we look at Venus from one observatory, we look at it from the other; we measure the amount of the displacement, and from that we calculate the distance of the planet. All depends, then, on the means which we have of measuring the displacement of Venus as viewed from the two different stations. There are various ways of accomplishing this, but the most simple is that originally proposed by Halley. [Pg 183] From the observatory at A Venus seems to pursue the upper of the two tracks shown in the adjoining figure (Fig. 47). From the observatory at B it follows the lower track, and it is for us to measure the distance between the two tracks. This can be accomplished in several ways. Suppose the observer at A notes the time that Venus has occupied in crossing the disc, and that similar observations be made at B. As the track seen from B is the larger, it must follow that the time observed at B will be greater than that at A. When the observations from the different hemispheres are compared, the times observed will enable the lengths of the tracks to be calculated. The lengths being known, their places on the circular disc of the sun are determined, and hence the amount of displacement of Venus in transit is ascertained. Thus it is that the distance of Venus is measured, and the scale of the solar system is known. Fig. 47.—To Illustrate the Observation of the Transit of Venus from Two Localities, A and B, on the Earth. The two transits to which Halley's memorable researches[Pg 184] referred occurred in the years 1761 and 1769. The results of the first were not very successful, in spite of the arduous labours of those who undertook the observations. The transit of 1769 is of particular interest, not only for the determination of the sun's distance, but also because it gave rise to the first of the celebrated voyages of Captain Cook. It was to see the transit of Venus that Captain Cook was commissioned to sail to Otaheite, and there, on the 3rd of June, on a splendid day in that exquisite climate, the phenomenon was carefully observed and measured by different observers. Simultaneously with these observations others were obtained in Europe and elsewhere, and from the combination of all the observations an approximate knowledge of the sun's distance was gained. The most complete discussion of these observations did not, however, take place for some time. It was not until the year 1824 that the illustrious Encke computed the distance of the sun, and gave as the definite result 95,000,000 miles. For many years this number was invariably adopted, and many of the present generation will remember how they were taught in their school-days that the sun was 95,000,000 miles away. At length doubts began to be whispered as to the accuracy of this result. The doubts arose in different quarters, and were presented with different degrees of importance; but they all pointed in one direction, they all indicated that the distance of the sun was not really so great as the result which Encke had obtained. It must be remembered that there are several ways of finding the distance of the sun, and it will be our duty to allude to some other methods later on. It has been ascertained that the result obtained by Encke from the observations made in 1761 and 1769, with instruments inferior to our modern ones, was too great, and that the distance of the sun may probably be now stated at 92,000,000 miles. I venture to record our personal experience of the last transit of Venus, which we had the good fortune to view from Dunsink Observatory on the afternoon of the 6th of December, 1882. [Pg 185] The morning of the eventful day appeared to be about as unfavourable for a grand astronomical spectacle as could well be imagined. Snow, a couple of inches thick, covered the ground, and more was falling, with but little intermission, all the forenoon. It seemed almost hopeless that a view of the phenomenon could be obtained from that observatory; but it is well in such cases to bear in mind the injunction given to the observers on a celebrated eclipse expedition. They were instructed, no matter what the day should be like, that they were to make all their preparations precisely as they would have done were the sun shining with undimmed splendour. By this advice no doubt many observers have profited; and we acted upon it with very considerable success. There were at that time at the observatory two equatorials, one of them an old, but tolerably good, instrument, of about six inches aperture; the other the great South equatorial, of twelve inches aperture, already referred to. At eleven o'clock the day looked worse than ever; but we at once proceeded to make all ready. I stationed Mr. Rambaut at the small equatorial, while I myself took charge of the South instrument. The snow was still falling when the domes were opened; but, according to our