Читать книгу Astronomy with an Opera-glass - Garrett Putman Serviss - Страница 3

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Star-gazing was never more popular than it is now. In every civilized country many excellent telescopes are owned and used, often to very good purpose, by persons who are not practical astronomers, but who wish to see for themselves the marvels of the sky, and who occasionally stumble upon something that is new even to professional star-gazers. Yet, notwithstanding this activity in the cultivation of astronomical studies, it is probably safe to assert that hardly one person in a hundred knows the chief stars by name, or can even recognize the principal constellations, much less distinguish the planets from the fixed stars. And of course they know nothing of the intellectual pleasure that accompanies a knowledge of the stars. Modern astronomy is so rapidly and wonderfully linking the earth and the sun together, with all the orbs of space, in the bonds of close physical relationship, that a person of education and general intelligence can offer no valid excuse for not knowing where to look for Sirius or Aldebaran, or the Orion nebula, or the planet Jupiter. As Australia and New Zealand and the islands of the sea are made a part of the civilized world through the expanding influence of commerce and cultivation, so the suns and planets around us are, in a certain sense, falling under the dominion of the restless and resistless mind of man. We have come to possess vested intellectual interests in Mars and Saturn, and in the sun and all his multitude of fellows, which nobody can afford to ignore.

A singular proof of popular ignorance of the starry heavens, as well as of popular curiosity concerning any uncommon celestial phenomenon, is furnished by the curious notions prevailing about the planet Venus. When Venus began to attract general attention in the western sky in the early evenings of the spring of 1887, speculation quickly became rife about it, particularly on the great Brooklyn Bridge. As the planet hung dazzlingly bright over the New Jersey horizon, some people appeared to think it was the light of Liberty's torch, mistaking the bronze goddess's real flambeau for a part of the electric-light system of the metropolis. Finally (to judge from the letters written to the newspapers, and the questions asked of individuals supposed to know something about the secrets of the sky), the conviction seems to have become pretty widely distributed that the strange light in the west was no less than an electrically illuminated balloon, nightly sent skyward by Mr. Edison, for no other conceivable reason than a wizardly desire to mystify his fellow-men. I have positive information that this ridiculous notion has been actually entertained by more than one person of intelligence. And as Venus glowed with increasing splendor in the serene evenings of June, she continued to be mistaken for some petty artificial light instead of the magnificent world that she was, sparkling out there in the sunshine like a globe of burnished silver. Yet Venus as an evening star is not so rare a phenomenon that people of intelligence should be surprised at it. Once in every 584 days she reappears at the same place in the sunset sky—

"Gem of the crimson-colored even,

Companion of retiring day."

No eye can fail to note her, and as the nearest and most beautiful of the Earth's sisters it would seem that everybody should be as familiar with her appearance as with the face of a friend. But the popular ignorance of Venus, and the other members of the planetary family to which our mother, the Earth, belongs, is only an index of the denser ignorance concerning the stars—the brothers of our great father, the Sun. I believe this ignorance is largely due to mere indifference, which, in its turn, arises from a false and pedantic method of presenting astronomy as a creature of mathematical formulæ, and a humble handmaiden of the art of navigation. I do not, of course, mean to cast doubt upon the scientific value of technical work in astronomy. The science could not exist without it. Those who have made the spectroscope reveal the composition of the sun and stars, and who are now making photography picture the heavens as they are, and even reveal phenomena which lie beyond the range of human vision, are the men who have taken astronomy out of its swaddling-clothes, and set it on its feet as a progressive science. But when one sees the depressing and repellent effect that has evidently been produced upon the popular mind by the ordinary methods of presenting astronomy, one can not resist the temptation to utter a vigorous protest, and to declare that this glorious science is not the grinning mathematical skeleton that it has been represented to be.

Perhaps one reason why the average educated man or woman knows so little of the starry heavens is because it is popularly supposed that only the most powerful telescopes and costly instruments of the observatory are capable of dealing with them. No greater mistake could be made. It does not require an optical instrument of any kind, nor much labor, as compared with that expended in the acquirement of some polished accomplishments regarded as indispensable, to give one an acquaintance with the stars and planets which will be not only pleasurable but useful. And with the aid of an opera-glass most interesting, gratifying, and, in some instances, scientifically valuable observations may be made in the heavens. I have more than once heard persons who knew nothing about the stars, and probably cared less, utter exclamations of surprise and delight when persuaded to look at certain parts of the sky with a good glass, and thereafter manifest an interest in astronomy of which they would formerly have believed themselves incapable.

Being convinced that whoever will survey the heavens with a good opera-glass will feel repaid many fold for his time and labor, I have undertaken to point out some of the objects most worthy of attention, and some of the means of making acquaintance with the stars.

First, a word about the instrument to be used. Galileo made his famous discoveries with what was, in principle of construction, simply an opera-glass. This form of telescope was afterward abandoned because very high magnifying powers could not be employed with it, and the field of view was restricted. But, on account of its brilliant illumination of objects looked at, and its convenience of form, the opera-glass is still a valuable and, in some respects, unrivaled instrument of observation.

In choosing an opera-glass, see first that the object-glasses are achromatic, although this caution is hardly necessary, for all modern opera-glasses, worthy of the name, are made with achromatic objectives. But there are great differences in the quality of the work. If a glass shows a colored fringe around a bright object, reject it. Let the diameter of the object-glasses, which are the large lenses in the end farthest from the eye, be not less than an inch and a half. The magnifying power should be at least three or four diameters. A familiar way of estimating the magnifying power is by looking at a brick wall through one barrel of the opera-glass with one eye, while the other eye sees the wall without the intervention of the glass. Then notice how many bricks seen by the naked eye are required to equal in thickness one brick seen through the glass. That number represents the magnifying power.

The instrument used by the writer in making most of the observations for this book has object-glasses 1.6 inch in diameter, and a magnifying power of about 3.6 times.

See that the fields of view given by the two barrels of the opera-glass coincide, or blend perfectly together. If one appears to partially overlap the other when looking at a distant object, the effect is very annoying. This fault arises from the barrels of the opera-glass being placed too far apart, so that their optical centers do not coincide with the centers of the observer's eyes.

A very Bad Field.

Occasionally, on account of faulty centering of the lenses, a double image is given of objects looked at, as illustrated in the accompanying cut. In such a case the glass is worthless; but if the effect is simply the addition of a small, crescent-shaped extension on one side of the field of view without any reduplication, the fault may be overlooked, though it is far better to select a glass that gives a perfectly round field. Some glasses have an arrangement for adjusting the distance between the barrels to suit the eyes of different persons, and it would be well if all were made adjustable in the same way.

Don't buy a cheap glass, but don't waste your money on fancy mountings. What the Rev. T. W. Webb says of telescopes is equally true of opera-glasses: "Inferior articles may be showily got up, and the outside must go for nothing." There are a few makers whose names, stamped upon the instrument, may generally be regarded as a guarantee of excellence. But the best test is that of actual performance. I have a field-glass which I found in a pawn-shop, that has no maker's name upon it, but in some respects is quite capable of bearing comparison with the work of the best advertised opticians. And this leads me to say that, by the exercise of good judgment, one may occasionally purchase superior glasses at very reasonable prices in the pawn-shops. Ask to be shown the old and well-tried articles; you may find among them a second-hand glass of fine optical properties. If the lenses are not injured, one need not trouble one's self about the worn appearance of the outside of the instrument; so much the more evidence that somebody has found it well worth using.

A good field or marine glass is in some respects better than an opera-glass for celestial observations. It possesses a much higher magnifying power, and this gives sometimes a decided advantage. But, on the other hand, its field of view is smaller, rendering it more difficult to find and hold objects. Besides, it does not present as brilliant views of scattered star-clusters as an opera-glass does. For the benefit of those who possess field-glasses, however, I have included in this brief survey certain objects that lie just beyond the reach of opera-glasses, but can be seen with the larger instruments.

I have thought it advisable in the descriptions of the constellations which follow to give some account of their mythological origin, both because of the historical interest which attaches to it, and because, while astronomers have long since banished the constellation figures from their maps, the names which the constellations continue to bear require some explanation, and they possess a literary and romantic interest which can not be altogether disregarded in a work that is not intended for purely scientific readers.