CHAPTER VI

_THE SUN'S DISTANCE_

The question of the sun's distance arises naturally from the

consideration of his temperature, since the intensity of the radiations

emitted as compared with those received and measured, depends upon it.

But the knowledge of that distance has a value quite apart from its

connection with solar physics. The semi-diameter of the earth's orbit is

our standard measure for the universe. It is the great fundamental datum

of astronomy--the unit of space, any error in the estimation of which is

multiplied and repeated in a thousand different ways, both in the

planetary and sidereal systems. Hence its determination was called by

Airy "the noblest problem in astronomy." It is also one of the most

difficult. The quantities dealt with are so minute that their sure grasp

tasks all the resources of modern science. An observational inaccuracy

which would set the moon nearer to, or farther from us than she really

is by one hundred miles, would vitiate an estimate of the sun's distance

to the extent of sixteen million![748] What is needed in order to attain

knowledge of the desired exactness is no less than this: to measure an

angle about equal to that subtended by a halfpenny 2,000 feet from the

eye, within a little more than a thousandth part of its value.

The angle thus represented is what is called the "horizontal parallax"

of the sun. By this amount--the breadth of a halfpenny at 2,000 feet--he

is, to a spectator on the rotating earth, removed at rising and setting

from his meridian place in the heavens. Such, in other terms, would be

the magnitude of the terrestrial radius as viewed from the sun. If we

knew this magnitude with certainty and precision, we should also know

with certainty and precision--the dimensions of the earth being, as they

are, well ascertained--the distance of the sun. In fact, the one

quantity commonly stands for the other in works treating professedly of

astronomy. But this angle of parallax or apparent displacement cannot be

directly measured--cannot even be perceived with the finest instruments.

Not from its smallness. The parallactic shift of the nearest of the

stars as seen from opposite sides of the earth's orbit, is many times

smaller. But at the sun's limb, and close to the horizon, where the

visual angle in question opens out to its full extent, atmospheric

troubles become overwhelming, and altogether swamp the far more minute

effects of parallax.

There remain indirect methods. Astronomers are well acquainted with the

proportions which the various planetary orbits bear to each other. They

are so connected, in the manner expressed by Kepler's Third Law, that

the periods being known, it only needs to find the interval between any

two of them in order to infer at once the distances separating them all

from one another and from the sun. The plan is given; what we want to

discover is the scale upon which it is drawn; so that, if we can get a

reliable measure of the distance of a single planet from the earth, our

problem is solved.

Now some of our fellow-travellers in our unending journey round the sun,

come at times well within the scope of celestial trigonometry. The orbit

of Mars lies at one point not more than thirty-five million miles

outside that of the earth, and when the two bodies happen to arrive

together in or near the favourable spot--a conjuncture which occurs

every fifteen years--the desired opportunity is granted. Mars is then

"in opposition," or on the _opposite_ side of us from the sun, crossing

the meridian consequently at midnight.[749] It was from an opposition of

Mars, observed in 1672 by Richer at Cayenne in concert with Cassini in

Paris, that the first scientific estimate of the sun's distance was

derived. It appeared to be nearly eighty-seven millions of miles

(parallax 9·5"); while Flamsteed deduced 81,700,000 (parallax 10") from

his independent observations of the same occurrence--a difference quite

insignificant at that stage of the inquiry. But Picard's result was just

half Flamsteed's (parallax 20"; distance forty-one million miles); and

Lahire considered that we must be separated from the hearth of our

system by an interval of _at least_ 136 million miles.[750] So that

uncertainty continued to have an enormous range.

Venus, on the other hand, comes closest to the earth when she passes

between it and the sun. At such times of "inferior conjunction" she is,

however, still twenty-six million miles, or (in round numbers) 109 times

as distant as the moon. Moreover, she is so immersed in the sun's rays

that it is only when her path lies across his disc that the requisite

facilities for measurement are afforded. These "partial eclipses of the

sun by Venus" (as Encke termed them) are coupled together in pairs,[751]

of which the components are separated by eight years, recurring at

intervals alternately of 105-1/2 and 121-1/2 years. Thus, the first

calculated transit took place in December, 1631, and its companion

(observed by Horrocks) in the same month (N.S.), 1639. Then, after the

lapse of 121-1/2 years, came the June couple of 1761 and 1769; and again

after 105-1/2, the two last observed, December 8, 1874, and December 6,

1882. Throughout the twentieth century there will be no transit of

Venus; but the astronomers of the twenty-first will only have to wait

four years for the first of a June pair. The rarity of these events is

due to the fact that the orbits of the earth and Venus do not lie in the

same plane. If they did, there would be a transit each time that our

twin-planet overtakes us in her more rapid circling--that is, on an

average, every 584 days. As things are actually arranged, she passes

above or below the sun, except when she happens to be very near the line

of intersection of the two tracks.

Such an occurrence as a transit of Venus seems, at first sight, full of

promise for solving the problem of the sun's distance. For nothing would

appear easier than to determine exactly either the duration of the

passage of a small, dark orb across a large brilliant disc, or the

instant of its entry upon or exit from it. And the differences in these

times (which, owing to the comparative nearness of Venus, are quite

considerable), as observed from remote parts of the earth, can be

translated into differences of space--that is, into apparent or

parallactic displacements, whereby the distance of Venus becomes known,

and thence, by a simple sum in proportion, the distance of the sun. But

in that word "exactly" what snares and pitfalls lie hid! It is so easy

to think and to say; so indefinitely hard to realise. The astronomers of

the eighteenth century were full of hope and zeal. They confidently

expected to attain, through the double opportunity offered them, to

something like a permanent settlement of the statistics of our system.

They were grievously disappointed. The uncertainty as to the sun's

distance, which they had counted upon reducing to a few hundred thousand

miles, remained at many millions.

In 1822, however, Encke, then director of the Seeberg Observatory near

Gotha, undertook to bring order out of the confusion of discordant, and

discordantly interpreted observations. His combined result for both

transits (1761 and 1769) was published in 1824,[752] and met universal

acquiescence. The parallax of the sun thereby established was 8·5776",

corresponding to a mean distance[753] of 95-1/4 million miles. Yet this

abolition of doubt was far from being so satisfactory as it seemed.

Serenity on the point lasted exactly thirty years. It was disturbed in

1854 by Hansen's announcement[754] that the observed motions of the moon

could be drawn into accord with theory only on the terms of bringing the

sun considerably nearer to us than he was supposed to be.

Dr. Matthew Stewart, professor of mathematics in the University of

Edinburgh, had made a futile attempt in 1763 to deduce the sun's

distance from his disturbing power over our satellite.[755] Tobias Mayer

of Göttingen, however, whose short career was fruitful of suggestions,

struck out the right way to the same end; and Laplace, in the seventh

book of the _Mécanique Céleste_,[756] gave a solar parallax derived from

the lunar "parallactic inequality" substantially identical with that

issuing from Encke's subsequent discussion of the eighteenth-century

transits. Thus, two wholly independent methods--the trigonometrical,

or method by survey, and the gravitational, or method by

perturbation--seemed to corroborate each the upshot of the use of the

other until the nineteenth century was well past its meridian. It is

singular how often errors conspire to lead conviction astray.

Hansen's note of alarm in 1854 was echoed by Leverrier in 1858.[757] He

found that an apparent monthly oscillation of the sun which reflects a

real monthly movement of the earth round its common centre of gravity

with the moon, and which depends for its amount solely on the mass of

the moon and the distance of the sun, required a diminution in the

admitted value of that distance by fully four million miles. Three years

later he pointed out that certain perplexing discrepancies between the

observed and computed places both of Venus and Mars, would vanish on the

adoption of a similar measure.[758] Moreover, a favourable opposition of

Mars gave the opportunity in 1862 for fresh observations, which,

separately worked out by Stone and Winnecke, agreed with all the newer

investigations in fixing the great unit at slightly over 91 million

miles. In Newcomb's hands they gave 92-1/2 million.[759] The

accumulating evidence in favour of a large reduction in the sun's

distance was just then reinforced by an auxiliary result of a totally

different and unexpected kind.

The discovery that light does not travel instantaneously from point to

point, but takes some short time in transmission, was made by Olaus

Römer in 1675, through observing that the eclipses of Jupiter's

satellites invariably occurred later, when the earth was on the far

side, than when it was on the near side of its orbit. Half the

difference, or the time spent by a luminous vibration in crossing the

"mean radius" of the earth's orbit, is called the "light-equation"; and

the determination of its precise value has claimed the minute care

distinctive of modern astronomy. Delambre in 1792 made it 493 seconds.

Glasenapp, a Russian astronomer, raised the estimate in 1874 to 501,

Professor Harkness adopts a safe medium value of 498 seconds. Hence, if

we had any independent means of ascertaining how fast light travels, we

could tell at once how far off the sun is.

There is yet another way by which knowledge of the swiftness of light

would lead us straight to the goal. The heavenly bodies are perceived,

when carefully watched and measured, to be pushed forward out of their

true places, in the direction of the earth's motion, by a very minute

quantity. This effect (already adverted to) has been known since

Bradley's time as "aberration." It arises from a combination of the two

movements of the earth round the sun and of the light-waves through the

ether. If the earth stood still, or if light spent no time on the road

from the stars, such an effect would not exist. Its amount represents

the proportion between the velocities with which the earth and the

light-rays pursue their respective journeys. This proportion is,

roughly, one to ten thousand. So that here again, if we knew the rate

per second of luminous transmission, we should also know the rate per

second of the earth's movement, consequently the size of its orbit and

the distance of the sun.

But, until lately, instead of finding the distance of the sun from the

velocity of light, there has been no means of ascertaining the velocity

of light except through the imperfect knowledge possessed as to the

distance of the sun. The first successful terrestrial experiments on the

point date from 1849; and it is certainly no slight triumph of human

ingenuity to have taken rigorous account of the delay of a sunbeam in

flashing from one mirror to another. Fizeau led the way,[760] and he was

succeeded, after a few months, by Léon Foucault,[761] who, in 1862, had

so far perfected Wheatstone's method of revolving mirrors, as to be able

to announce with authority that light travelled slower, and that the sun

was in consequence nearer than had been supposed.[762] Thus a third line

of separate research was found to converge to the same point with the

two others.

Such a conspiracy of proof was not to be resisted, and at the

anniversary meeting of the Royal Astronomical Society in February, 1864,

the correction of the solar distance took the foremost place in the

annals of the year. Lest, however, a sudden bound of four million miles

nearer to the centre of our system should shake public faith in

astronomical accuracy, it was explained that the change in the solar

parallax corresponding to that huge leap, amounted to no more than the

breadth of a human hair 125 feet from the eye![763] The Nautical Almanac

gave from 1870 the altered value of 8.95", for which Newcomb's result of

8.85", adopted in 1869 in the Berlin Ephemeris, was substituted some ten

years later. In astronomical literature the change was initiated by Sir

Edmund Beckett in the first edition (1865) of his _Astronomy without

Mathematics_.

If any doubt remained as to the misleading character of Encke's

deduction, so long implicitly trusted in, it was removed by Powalky's

and Stone's rediscussions, in 1864 and 1868 respectively, of the transit

observations of 1769. Using improved determinations of the longitude of

the various stations, and a selective judgment in dealing with their

materials, which, however indispensable, did not escape adverse

criticism, they brought out results confirmatory of the no longer

disputed necessity for largely increasing the solar parallax, and

proportionately diminishing the solar distance. Once more in 1890, and

this time with better success, the eighteenth-century transits were

investigated by Professor Newcomb.[764] Turning to account the

experience gained in the interim regarding the optical phenomena

accompanying such events, he elicited from the mass of somewhat

discordant observations at his command, a parallax (8·79") in close

agreement with the value given by sundry modes of recent research.

Conclusions on the subject, however, were still regarded as purely

provisional. A transit of Venus was fast approaching, and to its

arbitrament, as to that of a court of final appeal, the pending question

was to be referred. It is true that the verdict in the same case by the

same tribunal a century earlier had proved of so indecisive a character

as to form only a starting-point for fresh litigation; but that century

had not passed in vain, and it was confidently anticipated that

observational difficulties, then equally unexpected and insuperable,

would yield to the elaborate care and skill of forewarned modern

preparation.

The conditions of the transit of December 8, 1874, were sketched out by

Sir George Airy, then Astronomer-Royal, in 1857,[765] and formed the

subject of eager discussion in this and other countries down to the very

eve of the occurrence. In these Mr. Proctor took a leading part; and it

was due to his urgent representations that provision was made for the

employment of the method identified with the name of Halley,[766] which

had been too hastily assumed inapplicable to the first of each

transit-pair. It depends upon the difference in the length of time taken

by the planet to cross the sun's disc, as seen from various points of

the terrestrial surface, and requires, accordingly, the visibility of

both entrance and exit at the same station. Since these were, in 1874,

separated by about three and a half hours, and the interval may be much

longer, the choice of posts for the successful use of the "method of

durations" is a matter of some difficulty.

The system described by Delisle in 1760, on the other hand, involves

merely noting the instant of ingress or egress (according to situation)

from opposite extremities of a terrestrial diameter; the disparity in

time giving a measure of the planet's apparent displacement, hence of

its actual rate of travel in miles per minute, from which its distances

severally from earth and sun are immediately deducible. Its chief

attendant difficulty is the necessity for accurately fixing the

longitudes of the points of observation. But this was much more sensibly

felt a century ago than it is now, the improved facility and certainty

of modern determinations tending to give the Delislean plan a decided

superiority over its rival.

These two traditional methods were supplemented in 1874 by the camera

and the heliometer. From photography, above all, much was expected.

Observations made by its means would have the advantages of

impartiality, multitude, and permanence. Peculiarities of vision and

bias of judgment would be eliminated; the slow progress of the

phenomenon would permit an indefinite number of pictures to be taken,

their epochs fixed to a fraction of a second; while subsequent leisurely

comparison and measurement could hardly fail, it was thought, to educe

approximate truth from the mass of accumulated evidence. The use of the

heliometer (much relied on by German observers) was so far similar to

that of the camera that the object aimed at by both was the

determination of the relative positions of the _centres_ of the sun and

Venus viewed, at the same absolute instant, from opposite sides of the

globe. So that the principle of the two older methods was to ascertain

the exact times of meeting between the solar and planetary limbs; that

of the two modern to determine the position of the dark body already

thrown into complete relief by its shining background. The former are

"methods by contact," the latter "methods by projection."

Every country which had a reputation to keep or to gain for scientific

zeal was forward to co-operate in the great cosmopolitan enterprise of

the transit. France and Germany each sent out six expeditions;

twenty-six stations were in Russian, twelve in English, eight in

American, three in Italian, one in Dutch occupation. In all, at a cost

of nearly a quarter of a million, some fourscore distinct posts of

observation were provided; among them such inhospitable, and all but

inaccessible rocks in the bleak Southern Ocean, as St. Paul's and

Campbell Islands, swept by hurricanes, and fitted only for the

habitation of seabirds, where the daring votaries of science, in the

wise prevision of a long leaguer by the elements, were supplied with

stores for many months, or even a whole year. Siberia and the Sandwich

Islands were thickly beset with observers; parties of three

nationalities encamped within the mists of Kerguelen Island,

expressively termed the "Land of Desolation," in the sanguine, though

not wholly frustrated hope of a glimpse of the sun at the right moment.

M. Janssen narrowly escaped destruction from a typhoon in the China seas

on his way to Nagasaki; Lord Lindsay (now Earl of Crawford and

Balcarres) equipped, at his private expense, an expedition to Mauritius,

which was in itself an epitome of modern resource and ingenuity.

During several years, the practical methods best suited to insure

success for the impending enterprise formed a subject of European

debate. Official commissions were appointed to receive and decide upon

evidence; and experiments were in progress for the purpose of defining

the actual circumstances of contacts, the precise determination of which

constituted the only tried, though by no means an assuredly safe road to

the end in view. In England, America, France, and Germany, artificial

transits were mounted, and the members of the various expeditions were

carefully trained to unanimity in estimating the phases of junction and

separation between a moving dark circular body and a broad illuminated

disc. In the previous century, a formidable and prevalent phenomenon,

which acquired notoriety as the "Black Drop" or "Black Ligament," had

swamped all pretensions to rigid accuracy. It may be described as

substituting adhesion for contact, the limbs of the sun and planet,

instead of meeting and parting with the desirable clean definiteness,

_clinging_ together as if made of some glutinous material, and

prolonging their connection by means of a dark band or dark threads

stretched between them. Some astronomers ascribed this baffling

appearance entirely to instrumental imperfections; others to atmospheric

agitation; others again to the optical encroachment of light upon

darkness known as "irradiation." It is probable that all these causes

conspired, in various measure, to produce it; and it is certain that its

_conspicuous_ appearance may, by suitable precautions, be obviated.

The organisation of the British forces reflected the utmost credit on

the energy and ability of Lieutenant-Colonel Tupman, who was responsible

for the whole. No useful measure was neglected. Each observer went out

ticketed with his "personal equation," his senses drilled into a species

of martial discipline, his powers absorbed, so far as possible, in the

action of a cosmopolitan observing machine. Instrumental uniformity and

uniformity of method were obtainable, and were attained; but diversity

of judgment unhappily survived the best-directed efforts for its

extirpation.

The eventful day had no sooner passed than telegrams began to pour in,

announcing an outcome of considerable, though not unqualified success.

The weather had proved generally favourable; the manifold arrangements

had worked well; contacts had been plentifully observed; photographs in

lavish abundance had been secured; a store of materials, in short, had

been laid up, of which it would take years to work out the full results

by calculation. Gradually, nevertheless, it came to be known that the

hope of a definitive issue must be abandoned. Unanimity was found to be

as remote as ever. The dreaded "black ligament" gave, indeed, less

trouble than was expected; but another appearance supervened which took

most observers by surprise. This was the illumination due to the

atmosphere of Venus. Astronomers, it is true, were not ignorant that the

planet had, on previous occasions, been seen girdled with a lucid ring;

but its power to mar observations by the distorting effect of refraction

had scarcely been reckoned with. It proved, however, to be very great.

Such was the difficulty of determining the critical instant of internal

contact, that (in Colonel Tupman's words) "observers side by side, with

adequate optical means, differed as much as twenty or thirty seconds in

the times they recorded for phenomena which they have described in

almost identical language."[767]

Such uncertainties in the data admitted of a corresponding variety in

the results. From the British observations of ingress and egress Sir

George Airy[768] derived, in 1877, a solar parallax of 8·76" (corrected

to 8·754"), indicating a mean distance of 93,375,000 miles. Mr. Stone

obtained a value of ninety-two millions (parallax 8·88"), and held any

parallax less than 8·84" or more than 8·93" to be "absolutely negatived"

by the documents available.[769] Yet, from the same, Colonel Tupman

deduced 8·81",[770] implying a distance 700,000 miles greater than Stone

had obtained. The best French observations of contacts gave a parallax

of about 8·88"; French micrometric measures the obviously exaggerated

one of 9·05".[771]

Photography, as practised by most of the European parties, was a total

failure. Utterly discrepant values of the microscopic displacements

designed to serve as sounding lines for the solar system, issued from

attempts to measure even the most promising pictures. "You might as well

try to measure the zodiacal light," it was remarked to Sir George Airy.

Those taken on the American plan of using telescopes of so great focal

length as to afford, without further enlargement, an image of the

requisite size, gave notably better results. From an elaborate

comparison of those dating from Vladivostock, Nagasaki, and Pekin, with

others from Kerguelen and Chatham Islands, Professor D. P. Todd, of

Amherst College, deduced a solar distance of about ninety-two million

miles (parallax 8·883" ±0·034"),[772] and the value was much favoured by

concurrent evidence.

On the whole, estimates of the great spatial unit cannot be said to have

gained any security from the combined effort of 1874. A few months

before the transit, Mr. Proctor considered that the uncertainty then

amounted to 1,448,000 miles;[773] five years after the transit,

Professor Harkness judged it to be still 1,575,950 miles;[774] yet it

had been hoped that it would have been brought down to 100,000. As

regards the end for which it had been undertaken, the grand campaign had

come to nothing. Nevertheless, no sign of discouragement was apparent.

There was a change of view, but no relaxation of purpose. The problem,

it was seen, could be solved by no single heroic effort, but by the

patient approximation of gradual improvements. Astronomers, accordingly,

looked round for fresh means or more refined expedients for applying

those already known. A new phase of exertion was entered upon.

On September 5, 1877, Mars came into opposition near the part of his

orbit which lies nearest to that of the earth, and Dr. Gill (now Sir

David) took advantage of the circumstance to appeal once more to him for

a decision on the _quæstio vexata_ of the sun's distance. He chose, as

the scene of his labours, the Island of Ascension, and for their plan a

method recommended by Airy in 1857,[775] but never before fairly tried.

This is known as the "diurnal method of parallaxes." Its principle

consists in substituting successive morning and evening observations

from the same spot, for simultaneous observations from remote spots, the

rotation of the earth supplying the necessary difference in the points

of view. Its great advantage is that of unity in performance. A single

mind, looking through the same pair of eyes, reinforced with the same

optical appliances, is employed throughout, and the errors inseparable

from the combination of data collected under different conditions are

avoided. There are many cases in which one man can do the work of two

better than two men can do the work of one. The result of Gill's skilful

determinations (made with Lord Lindsay's heliometer) was a solar

parallax of 8·78", corresponding to a distance of 93,080,000 miles.[776]

The bestowal of the Royal Astronomical Society's gold medal stamped the

merit of this distinguished service.

But there are other subjects for this kind of inquiry besides Mars and

Venus. Professor Galle of Breslau suggested in 1872[777] that some of

the minor planets might be got to repay astronomers for much

disinterested toil spent in unravelling their motions, by lending aid to

their efforts towards a correct celestial survey. Ten or twelve come

near enough, and are bright enough for the purpose; in fact, the absence

of sensible magnitude is one of their chief recommendations, since a

point of light offers far greater facilities for exact measurement than

a disc. The first attempt to work this new vein was made at the

opposition of Phocæa in 1872; and from observations of Flora in the

following year at twelve observatories in the northern and southern

hemispheres, Galle deduced a solar parallax of 8·87".[778] At Mauritius

in 1874, Lord Lindsay and Sir David Gill applied the "diurnal method" to

Juno, then conveniently situated for the purpose; and the continued use

of similar occasions affords an unexceptionable means for improving

knowledge of the sun's distance. They frequently recur; they need no

elaborate preparation; a single astronomer armed with a heliometer can

do all the requisite work. Dr. Gill, however, organized a more complex

plan of operations upon Iris in 1888, and upon Victoria and Sappho in

1889. A novel method was adopted. Its object was to secure simultaneous

observations made from opposite sides of the globe just when the planet

lay in the plane passing through the centre of the earth and the two

observers, the same pair of reference-stars being used on each occasion.

The displacements caused by parallax were thus in a sense doubled, since

the star to which the planet seemed approximated in the northern

hemisphere, showed as if slightly removed from it in the southern, and

_vice versâ_. As the planet pursued its course, fresh star-couples came

into play, during the weeks that the favourable period lasted. In these

determinations, only heliometers were employed. Dr. Elkin, of Yale

college, co-operated throughout, and the heliometers of Dresden,

Göttingen, Bamberg, and Leipzig, shared in the work, while Dr. Auwers of

Berlin was Sir David Gill's personal coadjutor at the Cape. Voluminous

data were collected; meridian observations of the stars of reference for

Victoria occupied twenty-one establishments during four months; the

direct work of triangulation kept four heliometers in almost exclusive

use for the best part of a year; and the ensuing toilsome computations,

carried out during three years at the Cape Observatory, filled two bulky

tomes[779] with their details. Gill's final result, published in 1897,

was a parallax of 8·802", equivalent to a solar distance of 92,874,000;

and it was qualified by a probable error so small that the value might

well have been accepted as definitive but for an unlooked-for discovery.

The minor planet Eros, detected August 14, 1898, was found to pursue a

course rendering it an almost ideal intermediary in solar

parallax-determinations. Once in thirty years, it comes within fifteen

million miles of the earth; and although the next of these choice epochs

must be awaited for some decades, an opposition too favourable to be

neglected occurred in 1900. At an International Conference, accordingly,

held at Paris in July of that year, a plan of photographic operations

was concerted between the representatives of no less than 58

observatories.[780] Its primary object was to secure a large stock of

negatives showing the planet with the comparison-stars along the route

traversed by it from October, 1900, to March, 1901,[781] and this at

least was successfully attained. Their measurement will in due time

educe the apparent displacements of the moving object as viewed

simultaneously from remote parts of the earth; and the upshot should be

a solar parallax adequate in accuracy to the exigent demands of the

twentieth century.

The second of the nineteenth-century pair of Venus-transits was looked

forward to with much abated enthusiasm. Russia refused her active

co-operation in observing it, on the ground that oppositions of the

minor planets were trigonometrically more useful, and financially far

less costly; and her example was followed by Austria; while Italian

astronomers limited their sphere of action to their own peninsula.

Nevertheless, it was generally held that a phenomenon which the world

could not again witness until it was four generations older should, at

the price of any effort, not be allowed to pass in neglect.

The persuasion of its importance justified the summoning of an

International Conference at Paris in 1881, from which, however, America,

preferring independent action, held aloof. It was decided to give

Delisle's method another trial; and the ambiguities attending and

marring its use were sought to be obviated by careful regulations for

insuring agreement in the estimation of the critical moments of ingress

and egress.[782] But in fact (as M. Puiseux had shown[783]), contacts

between the limbs of the sun and planet, so far from possessing the

geometrical simplicity attributed to them, are really made up of a

prolonged succession of various and varying phases, impossible either to

predict or identify with anything like rigid exactitude. Sir Robert Ball

compared the task of determining the precise instant of their meeting or

parting, to that of telling the hour with accuracy on a watch without a

minute hand; and the comparison is admittedly inadequate. For not only

is the apparent movement of Venus across the sun extremely slow, being

but the excess of her real motion over that of the earth; but three

distinct atmospheres--the solar, terrestrial, and Cytherean--combine to

deform outlines and mask the geometrical relations which it is desired

to connect with a strict count of time.

The result was very much what had been expected. The arrangements were

excellent, and were only in a few cases disconcerted by bad weather. The

British parties, under the experienced guidance of Mr. Stone, the late

Radcliffe observer, took up positions scattered over the globe, from

Queensland to Bermuda; the Americans collected a whole library of

photographs; the Germans and Belgians trusted to the heliometer; the

French used the camera as an adjunct to the method of contacts. Yet

little or no approach was made to solving the problem. Thus, from 606

measures of Venus on the sun, taken with a new kind of heliometer at

Santiago in Chili, M. Houzeau, of the Brussels Observatory, derived a

solar parallax of 8.907", and a distance of 91,727,000 miles.[784] But

the "probable errors" of this determination amounted to 0.084" either

way: it was subject to a "more or less" of 900,000, or to a total

uncertainty of 1,800,000 miles. The "probable error" of the English

result, published in 1887, was less formidable,[785] yet the details of

the discussion showed that no great confidence could be placed in it.

The sun's distance came out 92,560,000 miles; while 92,360,000 was given

by Professor Harkness's investigation of 1,475 American

photographs.[786] Finally, Dr. Auwers deduced from the German

heliometric measures the unsatisfactorily small value of 92,000,000

miles.[787] The transit of 1882 had not, then, brought about the desired

unanimity.

The state and progress of knowledge on this important topic were summed

up by Faye and Harkness in 1881.[788] The methods employed in its

investigation fall (as we have seen) into three separate classes--the

trigonometrical, the gravitational, and the "phototachymetrical"--an

ungainly adjective used to describe the method by the velocity of light.

Each has its special difficulties and sources of error; each has

counter-balancing advantages. The only trustworthy result from celestial

surveys, was at that time furnished by Gill's observations of Mars in

1877. But the method by lunar and planetary disturbances is unlike all

the others in having time on its side. It is this which Leverrier

declared with emphasis must inevitably prevail, because its accuracy is

continually growing.[789] The scarcely perceptible errors which still

impede its application are of such a nature as to accumulate year by

year; eventually, then, they will challenge, and must receive, a more

and more perfect correction. The light-velocity method, however,

claimed, and for some years justified, M. Faye's preference.

By a beautiful series of experiments on Foucault's principle, Michelson

fixed in 1879 the rate of luminous transmission at 299,930 (corrected

later to 299,910) kilometres a second.[790] This determination was held

by Professor Todd to be entitled to four times as much confidence as any

previous one; and if the solar parallax of 8·758" deduced from it by

Professor Harkness errs somewhat by defect, it is doubtless because

Glasenapp's "light-equation," with which it was combined, errs slightly

by excess. But all earlier efforts of the kind were thrown into the

shade by Professor Newcomb's arduous operations at Washington in

1880-1882.[791] The scale upon which they were conducted was in itself

impressive. Foucault's entire apparatus in 1862 had been enclosed in a

single room; Newcomb's revolving and fixed mirrors, between which the

rays of light were to run their timed course, were set up on opposite

shores of the Potomac, at a distance of nearly four kilometres. This

advantage was turned to the utmost account by ingenuity and skill in

contrivance and execution; and the deduced velocity of 299,860

kilometres = 186,328 miles a second, had an estimated error (30

kilometres) only one-tenth that ascribed by Cornu to his own result in

1874.

Just as these experiments were concluded in 1882, M. Magnus Nyrén, of

St. Petersburg, published an elaborate investigation of the small

annular displacements of the stars due to the successive transmission of

light, involving an increase of Struve's "constant of aberration" from

20·445" to 20·492". And from the new value, combined with Newcomb's

light-velocity, was derived a valuable approximation to the sun's

distance, concluded at 92,905,021 miles (parallax = 8·794"). Yet it is

not quite certain that Nyrén's correction was an improvement. A

differential method of determining the amount of aberration, struck out

by M. Loewy of Paris,[792] avoids most of the objections to the absolute

method previously in vogue; and the upshot of its application in 1891

was to show that Struve's constant might better be retained than

altered, Loewy's of 20·447" varying from it only to an insignificant

extent. Professor Hall had, moreover, deduced nearly the same value

(20·454") from the Washington observations since 1862, of Alpha

Lyræ (Vega); whence, in conjunction with Newcomb's rate of light

transmission, he arrived at a solar parallax of 8·81".[793] Inverting

the process, Sir David Gill in 1897 derived the constant from the

parallax. If the earth's orbit have a mean radius, as found by him, of

92,874,000 miles, then, he calculated, the aberration of

light--Newcomb's measures of its velocity being supposed exact--amounts

to 20.467". This figure can need very slight correction.

Professor Harkness surveyed in 1891,[794] from an eclectic point of

view, the general situation as regarded the sun's parallax. Convinced

that no single method deserved an exclusive preference, he reached a

plausible result through the combination, on the principle of least

squares--that is, by the mathematical rules of probability--of all the

various quantities upon which the great datum depends. It thus summed up

and harmonised the whole of the multifarious evidence bearing upon the

point, and, as modified in 1894,[795] falls very satisfactorily into

line with the Cape determination. We may, then, at least provisionally,

accept 92,870,000 miles as the length of our measuring-rod for space.

Nor do we hazard much in fixing 100,000 miles as the outside limit of

its future correction.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 748: Airy, _Month. Not._, vol. xvii., p. 210.]

[Footnote 749: Mars comes into opposition once in about 780 days; but

owing to the eccentricity of both orbits, his distance from the earth at

those epochs varies from thirty-five to sixty-two million miles.]

[Footnote 750: J. D. Cassini, _Hist. Abrégée de la Parallaxe du Soleil_,

p. 122, 1772.]

[Footnote 751: The present period of coupled eccentric transits will, in

the course of ages, be succeeded by a period of single, nearly central

transits. The alignments by which transits are produced, of the earth,

Venus, and the sun, close to the place of intersection of the two

planetary orbits, now occur, the first a little in front of, the second,

after eight years less two and a half days, a little behind the node.

But when the first of these two meetings takes place very near the node,

giving a nearly central transit, the second falls too far from it, and

the planet escapes projection on the sun. The reason of the liability to

an eight-yearly recurrence is that eight revolutions of the earth are

accomplished in only a very little more time than thirteen revolutions

of Venus.]

[Footnote 752: _Die Entfernung der Sonne: Fortsetzung_, p. 108. Encke

slightly corrected his results of 1824 in _Berlin Abh._, 1835, p. 295.]

[Footnote 753: Owing to the ellipticity of its orbit, the earth is

nearer to the sun in January than in June by 3,100,000 miles. The

quantity to be determined, or "mean distance," is that lying midway

between these extremes--is, in other words, half the major axis of the

ellipse in which the earth travels.]

[Footnote 754: _Month. Not._, vol. xv., p. 9.]

[Footnote 755: _The Distance of the Sun from the Earth determined by the

Theory of Gravity_, Edinburgh, 1763.]

[Footnote 756: _Opera_, t. iii., p. 326.]

[Footnote 757: _Comptes Rendus_, t. xlvi., p. 882. The parallax 8·95"

derived by Leverrier from the above-described inequality in the earth's

motion, was corrected by Stone to 8·91". _Month. Not._, vol. xxviii., p.

25.]

[Footnote 758: _Month. Not._, vol. xxxv., p. 156.]

[Footnote 759: _Wash. Obs._, 1865, App. ii., p. 28.]

[Footnote 760: _Comptes Rendus_, t. xxix., p. 90.]

[Footnote 761: _Ibid._, t. xxx., p. 551.]

[Footnote 762: _Ibid._, t. lv., p. 501. The previously admitted velocity

was 308 million metres per second; Foucault reduced it to 298 million.

Combined with Struve's "constant of aberration" this gave 8.86" for the

solar parallax, which exactly agreed with Cornu's result from a

repetition of Fizeau's experiments in 1872. _Comptes Rendus_, t. lxxvi.,

p. 338.]

[Footnote 763: _Month. Not._, vol. xxiv., p. 103.]

[Footnote 764: _Astr. Papers of the American Ephemeris_, vol. ii., p.

263.]

[Footnote 765: _Month. Not._, vol. xvii., p. 208.]

[Footnote 766: Because closely similar to that proposed by him in _Phil.

Trans._ for 1716.]

[Footnote 767: _Month. Not._, vol. xxxviii., p. 447.]

[Footnote 768: _Ibid._, p. 11.]

[Footnote 769: _Ibid._, p. 294.]

[Footnote 770: _Ibid._, p. 334.]

[Footnote 771: _Comptes Rendus_, t. xcii., p. 812.]

[Footnote 772: _Observatory_, vol. v., p. 205.]

[Footnote 773: _Transits of Venus_, p. 89 (1st ed.).]

[Footnote 774: _Am. Jour. of Sc._, vol. xx., p. 393.]

[Footnote 775: _Month. Not._, vol. xvii., p. 219.]

[Footnote 776: _Mem. Roy. Astr. Soc._, vol. xlvi., p. 163.]

[Footnote 777: _Astr. Nach._, No. 1,897.]

[Footnote 778: Hilfiker, _Bern Mittheilungen_, 1878, p. 109.]

[Footnote 779: _Annals of the Cape Observatory_, vols. vi., vii.]

[Footnote 780: _Rapport sur l'État de l'Observatoire de Paris pour

l'Année 1900_, p. 7.]

[Footnote 781: _Observatory_, vol. xxiii., p. 311; Newcomb, _Astr.

Jour._, No. 480.]

[Footnote 782: _Comptes Rendus_, t. xciii., p. 569.]

[Footnote 783: _Ibid._, t. xcii., p. 481.]

[Footnote 784: _Bull. de l'Acad._, t. vi., p. 842.]

[Footnote 785: _Month. Not._, vol. xlviii., p. 201.]

[Footnote 786: _Astr. Jour._, No. 182.]

[Footnote 787: _Astr. Nach._, No. 3,066.]

[Footnote 788: _Comptes Rendus_, t. xcii., p. 375; _Am. Jour. of Sc._,

vol. xxii., p. 375.]

[Footnote 789: _Month. Not._, vol. xxxv., p. 401.]

[Footnote 790: _Am. Jour. of Sc._, vol. xviii., p. 393.]

[Footnote 791: _Nature_, vol. xxxiv., p. 170; _Astron. Papers of the

American Ephemeris_, vol. ii., p. 113.]

[Footnote 792: _Comptes Rendus_, t. cxii., p. 549.]

[Footnote 793: _Astr. Journ._, Nos. 169, 170]

[Footnote 794: _The Solar Parallax and its Related Constants_,

Washington, 1891.]

[Footnote 795: _Astr. and Astrophysics_, vol. xiii., p. 626.]

A Popular History of Astronomy During the Nineteenth Century Fourth Edition · 第 6 / 15 章