The term "Nautical Almanac" is an unfortunate misnomer for what is,
properly speaking, the "Astronomical Ephemeris." It is quite a
large volume, from which the world draws all its knowledge of times
and seasons, the motions of the heavenly bodies, the past and future
positions of the stars and planets, eclipses, and celestial phenomena
generally which admit of prediction. It is the basis on which the
family almanac is to rest. It also contains the special data needed
to enable the astronomer and navigator to determine their position on
land or sea. The first British publication of the sort, prepared by
Maskelyne, Astronomer Royal, a century ago, was intended especially
for the use of navigators; hence the familiar appellation, which I
call unfortunate because it leads to the impression that the work
is simply an enlargement and improvement of the household almanac.
The leading nations publish ephemerides of this sort. The
introductions and explanations are, of course, in the languages of
the respective countries; but the contents of the volume are now so
much alike that the duplication of work involved in preparing them
seems quite unnecessary. Yet national pride and emulation will
probably continue it for some time to come.
The first appropriation for an American ephemeris and nautical
almanac was made by Congress in 1849. Lieutenant Charles Henry
Davis, as a leader and moving spirit in securing the appropriation,
was naturally made the first superintendent of the work. At that time
astronomical science in our country was so far from being reduced to
a system that it seemed necessary to have the work prepared at some
seat of learning. So, instead of founding the office in Washington,
it was established at Cambridge, the seat of Harvard University,
where it could have the benefit of the technical knowledge of experts,
and especially of Professor Benjamin Peirce, who was recognized as
the leading mathematician of America. Here it remained until 1866,
when conditions had so far changed that the office was removed to
Washington, where it has since remained.
To this work I was especially attracted because its preparation seemed
to me to embody the highest intellectual power to which man had ever
attained. The matter used to present itself to my mind somewhat in
this way: Supply any man with the fundamental data of astronomy, the
times at which stars and planets cross the meridian of a place, and
other matters of this kind. He is informed that each of these bodies
whose observations he is to use is attracted by all the others with
a force which varies as the inverse square of their distance apart.
From these data he is to weigh the bodies, predict their motion in
all future time, compute their orbits, determine what changes of form
and position these orbits will undergo through thousands of ages,
and make maps showing exactly over what cities and towns on the
surface of the earth an eclipse of the sun will pass fifty years
hence, or over what regions it did pass thousands of years ago.
A more hopeless problem than this could not be presented to the
ordinary human intellect. There are tens of thousands of men who
could be successful in all the ordinary walks of life, hundreds who
could wield empires, thousands who could gain wealth, for one who
could take up this astronomical problem with any hope of success.
The men who have done it are therefore in intellect the select few
of the human race,--an aristocracy ranking above all others in the
scale of being. The astronomical ephemeris is the last practical
outcome of their productive genius.
On the question whether the world generally reasoned in this way,
I do not remember having any distinct idea. This was certainly
not because I was indifferent to the question, but because it never
strongly presented itself to my mind. From my point of view it would
not have been an important one, because I had already formed the
conviction that one should choose that sphere in life to which he was
most strongly attracted, or for which his faculties best fitted him.
A few months previous to my advent Commander Davis had been
detached from the superintendency and ordered to command the
sloop St. Mary's. He was succeeded by Professor Joseph Winlock,
who afterward succeeded George P. Bond as director of the Harvard
Observatory. Most companionable in the society of his friends,
Winlock was as silent as General Grant with the ordinary run of men.
Withal, he had a way of putting his words into exact official form.
The following anecdote of him used to be current. While he was
attached to the Naval Academy, he was introduced one evening at a
reception to a visiting lady. He looked at the lady for a decorous
length of time, and she looked at him; then they parted without
saying a word. His introducer watched the scene, and asked him,
"Why did you not talk to that lady?"
"I had no statement to make to her," was the reply.
Dr. Gould told me this story was founded on fact, but when, after
Winlock's death, it was put off on me with some alterations, I felt
less sure.
The following I believe to be authentic. It occurred several
years later. Hilgard, in charge of the Coast Survey office,
was struck by the official terseness of the communications he
occasionally received from Winlock, and resolved to be his rival.
They were expecting additions to their families about the same time,
and had doubtless spoken of the subject. When Hilgard's arrived,
he addressed a communication to Winlock in these terms:--
"Mine's a boy. What's yours?"