Photograph taken on May 4, 1910, by Professor E. E. Barnard at the
Yerkes Observatory, Williams Bay, Wisconsin
]
Then came May 4, a bitterly cold morning; but the stars shone brightly
and there was every hope of the comet being visible from the tower
heights. These hopes were confirmed, for on stepping out on to the
parapet the writer saw the comet in all its splendor. The hazy-looking
object seen on September 17, 1909, had developed into a full-grown comet
with a head shining as a star of about the second magnitude, and
surrounded by a nucleus. Extending outward like the beam of a
searchlight gleamed the tail nearly fifteen degrees in length. Calling
down to the janitor to make known the good news, the balcony was soon
filled with eager members of the _Times_ staff, who were thus enabled to
obtain a view of the comet. By means of a field-glass thoughtfully
provided by Mr. Van Anda, it was possible to see a further extension of
the train, making it in all thirty degrees in length. Spurts of light
like tiny waves seemed to flow out from the nucleus to a distance of two
or three degrees. At twenty minutes to four, the writer, on looking
downward at the horizon, was startled by what appeared to be a streak of
flame, but as it rose higher it proved to be the crescent moon, which
with the comet and the planet Venus, completed a wonderful trio. The
comet remained visible, resembling a bright star with a slender stream
of silvery mist trailing a few degrees after. By four o’clock it had
faded in the light of approaching dawn. A glance at the photograph of
Halley’s comet obtained by Professor Barnard at the Yerkes Observatory
on May 4 will give an idea of its splendor.
For the next few mornings observations of the comet were disappointing,
owing to heavy mists in the eastern skies. The comet was almost
completely hidden from view, except on the morning of May 8, when
occasional glimpses were obtained of it through rifts in the clouds. On
May 10, the nucleus of the comet, from which extended a diminutive train
eight degrees in length and fan-like in appearance, could be seen for a
few brief moments, after which it remained hidden behind clouds until
dawn, making further observations impossible.
It was not until the morning of Friday, May 13, that the comet once more
deigned to reveal itself to the straining eyes of the lonely watcher on
the tower. The first glimpse was obtained at ten minutes past three. The
comet then resembled a faint white streak drifting in the sky. A minute
or so later the planet Venus came into view, gaining in brilliancy as it
rose above the mists near the horizon. At twenty-five minutes past three
the train of the comet was twenty degrees in length, and by half past
three it extended to a distance of thirty-five degrees, or seven times
the distance between the pointers (Alpha and Beta in Ursa Major). It
spread out like a partly opened fan, its greatest width at the extreme
end being about five degrees or more. The nucleus shone brightly as a
star of the second magnitude, but by half past three it began to grow
less distinct, and at twenty minutes past four the comet had faded from
view on the arrival of the first few streaks of dawn.
The comet was barely visible the next few mornings, though watched for
anxiously, since there was always the possibility that it might reveal
itself, but these hopes were not realized. A glance at the cloudy skies
on the morning of May 18 suggested the impossibility of seeing the
comet, and for the first time since the morning of May 1, the writer
missed her vigil at the tower.
Interest was revived, however, on learning that Professor Barnard had
seen that morning
“a narrow twilight (which later proved to be the tail of the comet)
which seemed to extend along the eastern horizon.... The head of the
comet could not be seen when it rose, with either the five-inch or
the forty-inch telescope, because of the thick sky near the
horizon.... The observations show that the tail was at least 109°
long on that date. (_Astrophysical Journal_, vol. XXXIX, no 5, pp.
387–388, June, 1914.)
Now despite the fact that an astronomer at Columbia University had
declared the comet would be in the evening sky, and it was useless
looking for it in the morning sky of May 19, the writer decided,
nevertheless, to watch for the comet at about the usual hour, and with
the most gratifying results.
The parapet surrounding the tower was crowded to its utmost capacity by
a favored few on the eventful evening of May 18, awaiting they knew not
what, for a report had gone forth that we were scheduled to pass through
the train of the comet. Below us we could see comet parties in progress
on the roof gardens of some of the leading hotels. Sounds of merriment
occasionally reached us, but by half past ten we—that is, Miss L., who
had offered to share the lonely vigil with the writer until dawn—were
the only watchers on the tower. The hush of a great silence had
gradually fallen over the city, and in silence, too, we watched the
eastern sky for any further trace of the comet.
Notes made by the writer on this occasion record 11.10, red flash
(auroral); 11.22, flash resembling an arch of glowing white surmounted
by a crest of crimson. The display occurred above a low-lying bank of
mist and rose to about five degrees above the horizon. It was not of any
considerable breadth, and resembled rather a glow of color against the
dark background of the sky than a wide band of light. The moon, which
was shining brightly, interfered seriously with the observations of
auroral displays which appeared faint in its light. About 12.15 a mist
appeared to spread over the city, and the air had become damp and
chilly. By 1.30 the mist had cleared away. At 2 o’clock a meteor flashed
across the eastern sky, downward in the direction of the star Gamma in
the constellation Pegasus. It was bluish-green in color, pear-shaped in
appearance, leaving a streak five degrees in length behind it as it
flashed to within ten degrees above the horizon. It remained visible for
about five seconds, and the display was vivid while it lasted. At 2.30
the moon, low down in the western sky, appeared of a ruddy hue as it
“sank in a sea of gloom.”
Turning eastward, we saw a soft glow in the sky spreading from below
Pegasus and upward as far as the stars of Cassiopeia. At 2.34 a glow of
grayish hue extended over the northeastern sky. At 2.43 a bright meteor
was seen by Miss L., but she made no note of its direction, except that
it was eastward, and a brief glimpse obtained by the writer showed its
color as bluish.
At 2.45 streamers, which later proved to be the comet, were observed
reaching from the eastern horizon, below Gamma Pegasi, and curving
upward through Aquarius as far as Altair, and brighter in appearance
than the Milky Way. At its widest part, just beneath the first-magnitude
star Altair, the width of the band was about ten degrees, and throughout
its length it had a brilliancy equal to that of the Milky Way, near
which it terminated. The path of this band of light was very nearly that
along which the comet was last seen, and the writer was convinced that
it was the outer boundary of the tail through which the earth was
passing. Beneath this streamer, and apparently resting along the
southeastern horizon, was a secondary band resembling a haze-like misty
streamer. This was not as clearly defined as was the upper band, and,
moreover, it merged into the mists of the horizon.
In connection with a sketch made by the writer on this occasion, and
shown to Professor Barnard, he referred to it as follows in his account
of “Visual Observations of Halley’s Comet in 1910,” published in the
_Astrophysical Journal_ for June, 1914:
“With the exception of a sketch by Miss Mary Proctor in New York
City, and a newspaper account by Professor D. P. Todd of Amherst
(whose observation seemed to refer to May 16th), I have seen no
reference from northern observers to the second, fainter and broader
tail shown in my drawings of May 17 and 18, south of the bright beam
and separated from it by a distinct dark space, perhaps ten degrees
wide. The head of the comet was of course invisible, being below the
horizon.”
This was all the more pleasing to the writer, as doubts had been
expressed in no uncertain terms by a well-known authority, according to
the following statement published in an afternoon paper. “Some one
thinks she saw the comet in the eastern sky, when it is really in the
west.” One can imagine the anxious time experienced while awaiting
confirmation of the observation, but it came in due course from Yerkes,
Lick, Argentine Republic, South Africa, and the writer felt rewarded for
the many dreary waits in the tower during the “wee sma’ hours” since May
1.
On the morning of May 20, the writer again watched from the _Times_
tower, in the hope of seeing some straggling streamers trailing along
the sky, denoting the presence of the comet. Between half past two and a
quarter past three a ghostly apparition resembling a slender band of
light was seen extending upward, though almost parallel with the
northeastern horizon. It seemed to rest on a darker band of luminous
haze beneath. Surely this was the last fragment of the train of the
comet, outlined faintly against the dark void of space.
That same morning Professor Barnard at Yerkes detected a hazy luminous
streak about five degrees broad extending from Aquilæ to the east and
onward toward Alpha Pegasi. “This resembled the comet’s tail,” recorded
Professor Barnard,
“but was doubtless a strip of haze. I looked at it several times,
taking it for a strip of haze, but it did not seem to move. There
were masses of moving haze overhead toward the north. To all
appearance it looked like the comet’s tail of the mornings of May 18
and 19. I cannot be certain that it was not haze, but it was a
singular coincidence of position, appearance, etc., if it was. It
remained visible for fully fifteen or twenty minutes.”
[Illustration: