Myths and Marvels of Astronomy
faintest focal object of a telescope, both distinctify (to coin a new
word for an extraordinary occasion) and magnify its feeblest component
members. The only apparent desideratum was a recipient for the focal
image which should transfer it, without refranging it, to the surface on
which it was to be viewed under the revivifying light of the microscopic
reflectors.'
Singularly enough, the idea here mentioned does not appear to many so
absurd as it is in reality. It is known that the image formed by the
large lens of an ordinary telescope or the large mirror of a reflecting
telescope is a real image; not a merely virtual image like that which is
seen in a looking-glass. It can be received on a sheet of paper or other
white surface just as the image of surrounding objects can be thrown
upon the white table of the camera obscura. It is this real image, in
fact, which we look at in using a telescope of any sort, the portion of
such a telescope nearest to the eye being in reality a microscope for
viewing the image formed by the great lens or mirror, as the case may
be. And it does not seem to some altogether absurd to speak of
illuminating this image by transfused light, or of casting by means of
an illuminating microscope a vastly enlarged picture of this image upon
a screen. But of course the image being simply formed by the passage of
rays (which originally came from the object whose image they form)
through a certain small space, to send _other_ rays (coming from some
other luminous object) through the same small space, is not to improve,
but, so far as any effect is produced at all, to impair, the
distinctness of the image. In fact, if these illuminating rays reached
the eye, they would seriously impair the distinctness of the image.
Their effect may be compared exactly with the effect of rays of light
cast upon the image in a camera obscura; and, to see what the effect of
such rays would be, we need only consider why it is that the camera _is_
made 'obscura,' or dark. The effect of the transfusion of light through
a telescopic image may be easily tried by any one who cares to make the
experiment. He has only to do away with the tube of his telescope
(substituting two or three straight rods to hold the glass in its
place), and then in the blaze of a strong sun to direct the telescope on
some object lying nearly towards the sun. Or if he prefer artificial
light for the experiment, then at night let him direct the telescope so
prepared upon the moon, while a strong electric light is directed upon
the place where the focal image is formed (close in front of the eye).
The experiment will not suggest very sanguine hopes of good result from
the transfusion of artificial light. Yet, to my own knowledge, not a few
who were perfectly well aware that the lunar hoax was not based on
facts, have gravely reasoned that the principle suggested might be
sound, and, in fact, that they could see no reason why astronomers
should not try it, even though it had been first suggested as a joke.
To return, however, to the narrative. 'The co-operative philosophers,
having hit upon their method, determined to test it practically. They
decided that a medium of the purest plate-glass (which it is said they
obtained, by consent, be it observed, from the shop-window of M.
Desanges, the jeweller to his ex-majesty Charles X., in High Street) was
the most eligible they could discover. It answered perfectly with a
telescope which magnified a hundred times, and a microscope of about
thrice that power.' Thus fortified by experiment, and 'fully sanctioned
by the high optical authority of Sir David Brewster, Sir John laid his
plan before the Royal Society, and particularly directed to it the
attention of his Royal Highness the Duke of Sussex, the ever munificent
patron of science and the arts. It was immediately and enthusiastically
approved by the committee chosen to investigate it, and the chairman,
who was the Royal President' (this continual reference to royalty is
manifestly intended to give a British tone to the narrative),
'subscribed his name for a contribution of L10,000, with a promise that
he would zealously submit the proposed instrument as a fit object for
the patronage of the privy purse. He did so without delay; and his
Majesty, on being informed that the estimated expense was L70,000,
naively enquired if the costly instrument would conduce to any
improvement in _navigation_. On being informed that it undoubtly would,
the sailor king promised a _carte blanche_ for any amount which might be
required.'
All this is very clever. The 'sailor king' comes in as effectively to
give _vraisemblance_ to the narrative as 'Crabtree's little bronze
Shakspeare that stood over the fireplace,' and the 'postman just come to
the door with a double letter from Northamptonshire.'
Then comes a description of the construction of the object-glass,
twenty-four feet in diameter, 'just six times the size of the elder
Herschel's;' who, by the way, never made a telescope with an
object-glass. The account of Sir John Herschel's journey from England,
and even some details of the construction of the observatory, were based
on facts, indeed, so many persons in America as well as in England were
acquainted with some of these circumstances, that it was essential to
follow the facts as closely as possible. Of course, also, some
explanation had to be given of the circumstance that nothing had before
been heard respecting the gigantic instrument taken out by Sir John
Herschel. 'Whether,' says the story, 'the British Government were
sceptical concerning the promised splendour of the discoveries, or
wished them to be scrupulously veiled until they had accumulated a
full-orbed glory for the nation and reign in which they originated, is a
question which we can only conjecturally solve. But certain it is that
the astronomer's royal patrons enjoined a masonic taciturnity upon him
and his friends until he should have officially communicated the results
of his great experiment.'
It was not till the night of January 10, 1835, that the mighty telescope
was at length directed towards our satellite. The part of the moon
selected was on the eastern part of her disc. 'The whole immense power
of the telescope was applied, and to its focal image about one half of
the power of the microscope. On removing the screen of the latter, the
field of view was covered throughout its entire area with a beautifully
distinct and even vivid representation of _basaltic rock_. Its colour
was a greenish brown; and the width of the columns, as defined by their
interstices on the canvas, was invariably twenty-eight inches. No
fracture whatever appeared in the mass first presented; but in a few
seconds a shelving pile appeared, of five or six columns' width, which
showed their figure to be hexagonal, and their articulations similar to
those of the basaltic formation at Staffa. This precipitous cliff was
profusely covered with a dark red flower, precisely similar, says Dr.
Grant, to the Papaver Rhoeus, or Rose Poppy, of our sublunary
cornfields; and this was the first organic production of nature in a
foreign world ever revealed to the eyes of men.'
It would be wearisome to go through the whole series of observations
thus fabled, and only a few of the more striking features need be
indicated. The discoveries are carefully graduated in interest. Thus we
have seen how, after recognising basaltic formations, the observers
discovered flowers: they next see a lunar forest, whose 'trees were of
one unvaried kind, and unlike any on earth except the largest kind of
yews in the English churchyards.' (There is an American ring in this
sentence, by the way, as there is in one, a few lines farther on, where
the narrator having stated that by mistake the observers had the Sea of
Clouds instead of a more easterly spot in the field of view, proceeds to
say: 'However, the moon was a free country, and we not as yet attached
to any particular province.') Next a lunar ocean is described, 'the
water nearly as blue as that of the deep sea, and breaking in large
white billows upon the strand, while the action of very high tides was
quite manifest upon the face of the cliffs for more than a hundred
miles.' After a description of several valleys, hills, mountains and
forests, we come to the discovery of animal life. An oval valley
surrounded by hills, red as the purest vermilion, is selected as the
scene. 'Small collections of trees, of every imaginable kind, were
scattered about the whole of this luxuriant area; and here our
magnifiers blessed our panting hopes with specimens of conscious
existence. In the shade of the woods we beheld brown quadrupeds having
all the external characteristics of the bison, but more diminutive than
any species of the bos genus in our natural history.' Then herds of
agile creatures like antelopes are described, 'abounding on the
acclivitous glades of the woods.' In the contemplation of these
sprightly animals the narrator becomes quite lively. 'This beautiful
creature,' says he, 'afforded us the most exquisite amusement. The
mimicry of its movements upon our white painted canvas was as faithful
and luminous as that of animals within a few yards of the camera
obscura. Frequently, when attempting to put our fingers upon its beard,
it would suddenly bound away as if conscious of our earthly
impertinence; but then others would appear, whom we could not prevent
nibbling the herbage, say or do to them what we would.'
A strange amphibious creature, of a spherical form, rolling with great
velocity along a pebbly beach, is the next object of interest, but is
presently lost sight of in a strong current setting off from the angle
of an island. After this there are three or four pages descriptive of
various lunar scenes and animals, the latter showing a tendency,
singular considering the circumstances, though very convenient for the
narrator, to become higher and higher in type as the discoveries
proceed, until an animal somewhat of the nature of the missing link is
discovered. It is found in the Endymion (a circular walled plain) in
company with a small kind of reindeer, the elk, the moose, and the
horned bear, and is described as the biped beaver. It 'resembles the
beaver of the earth in every other respect than in its destitution of a
tail, and its invariable habit of walking upon only two feet. It carries
its young in its arms like a human being, and moves with an easy gliding
motion. Its huts are constructed better and higher than those of many
tribes of human savages, and, from the appearance of smoke in nearly all
of them, there is no doubt of its being acquainted with the use of fire.
Still, its head and body differ only in the points stated from that of
the beaver; and it was never seen except on the borders of lakes and
rivers, in which it has been observed to immerse for a period of several
seconds.'
The next step towards the climax brings us to domestic animals, 'good
large sheep, which would not have disgraced the farms of Leicestershire
or the shambles of Leadenhall Market; we fairly laughed at the
recognition of so familiar an acquaintance in so distant a land.
Presently they appeared in great numbers, and, on reducing the lenses,
we found them in flocks over a great part of the valley. I need not say
how desirous we were of finding shepherds to these flocks, and even a
man with blue apron and rolled-up sleeves would have been a welcome
sight to us, if not to the sheep; but they fed in peace, lords of their
own pastures, without either protector or destroyer in human shape.'
In the meantime, discussion had arisen as to the lunar locality where
men, or creatures resembling them, would most likely be found. Herschel