CHAPTER XVI

HALLEY AND HIS COMET

Halley is one of the most picturesque characters in all astronomical history. Next to Newton himself he was most intimately concerned in giving the Newtonian law to the world.

Edmund Halley was born (1656) in stirring times. Charles I. had just been executed, and it was the era of Cromwell's Lord Protectorate and the wars with Spain and Holland. Then followed (1660) the promising but profligate Charles II. (who nevertheless founded at Greenwich the greatest of all observatories when Halley was nineteen), the frightful ravages of the Black Plague, the tyrannies of James II., and the Revolution of 1688--all in the early manhood of Halley, whose scientific life and works marched with much of the vigor of the contending personalities of state.

The telescope had been invented a half century earlier, and Galileo's discoveries of Jupiter's moons and the phases of Venus had firmly established the sun-centered theory of Copernicus.

The sun's distance, though, was known but crudely; and why the stars seemed to have no yearly orbits of their own corresponding to that of the earth was a puzzle. Newton was well advanced toward his supreme discovery of the law of universal gravitation; and the authority of Kepler taught that comets travel helter-skelter through space in straight lines past the earth, a perpetual menace to humanity.

"Ugly monsters," that comets always were to the ancient world, the medieval church perpetuated this misconception so vigorously that even now these harmless, gauzy visitors from interstellar space possess a certain "wizard hold upon our imagination." This entertaining phase of the subject is excellently treated in President Andrew D. White's "History of the Doctrine of Comets," in the Papers of the American Historical Association. Halley's brilliant comet at its earlier apparitions had been no exception.

Halley's father was a wealthy London soap maker, who took great pride in the growing intellectuality of his son. Graduating at Queen's College, Oxford, the latter began his astronomical labors at twenty by publishing a work on planetary orbits; and the next year he voyaged to St. Helena to catalogue the stars of the southern firmament, to measure the force of terrestrial gravity, and observe a transit of Mercury over the disk of the sun.

While clouds seriously interfered with his observations on that lonely isle, what he saw of the transit led to his invention of "Halley's method," which, as applied to the transit of Venus, though not till long after his death, helped greatly in the accurate determination of the sun's distance from the earth. Halley's researches on the proper motions of the stars of both hemispheres soon made him famous, and it was said of him, "If any star gets displaced on the globe, Halley will presently find it out."

His return to London and election to the Royal Society (of which he was many years secretary) added much to his fame, and he was commissioned by the society to visit Danzig and arbitrate an astronomical controversy between Hooke and Hevelius, both his seniors by a generation.

On the continent he associated with other great astronomers, especially Cassini, who had already found three Saturnian moons; and it was then he observed the great comet of 1680, which led up to the most famous event of Halley's life.

The seerlike Seneca may almost be said to have predicted the advent of Halley, when he wrote ("Quaestiones Naturales," vii): "Some day there will arise a man who will demonstrate in what region of the heavens comets pursue their way; why they travel apart from the planets; and what their sizes and constitution are. Then posterity will be amazed that simple things of this sort were not explained before."

To Newton it appeared probable that cometary voyagers through space might have orbits of their own; and he proved that the comet of 1680 never swerved from such a path. As it could nowhere approach within the moon's orbit, clearly threats of its wrecking the earth and punishing its inhabitants ought to frighten no more.

Halley then became intensely interested in comets, and gathered whatever data concerning the paths of all these bodies he could find. His first great discovery was that the comets seen in 1531 by Apian, and in 1607 by Kepler, traveled round the sun in identical paths with one he had himself observed in 1682. A still earlier appearance of Halley's comet (1456) seems to have given rise to a popular and long-reiterated myth of a papal bull excommunicating "the Devil, the Turk, and the Comet."

No longer room for doubt: so certain was Halley that all three were one and the same comet, completing the round of its orbit in about seventy-six years, that he fearlessly predicted that it would be seen again in 1758 or 1759. And with equal confidence he might have foretold its return in 1835 and 1910; for all three predictions have come true to the letter.

Halley's span of existence did not permit his living to see even the first of these now historic verifications. But we in our day may emphatically term the epoch of the third verified return _Annus Halleianus_.

Says Turner, Halley's successor in the Savilian chair at Oxford to-day: "There can be no more complete or more sensational proof of a scientific law, than to predict events by means of it. Halley was deservedly the first to perform this great service for Newton's Law of Gravitation, and he would have rejoiced to think how conspicuous a part England was to play in the subsequent prediction of the existence of Neptune."

Halley rose rapidly among the chief astronomical figures of his day. But he had little veneration for mere authority, and the significant veering of his religious views toward heterodoxy was for years an obstacle to his advance.

Still Halley the astronomer was great enough to question any contemporary dicta that seemed to rest on authority alone. Everyone called the stars "fixed" stars; but Halley doubting this, made the first discovery of a star's individual motion--proper motion, as astronomers say. To-day, two hundred years after, every star is considered to be in motion, and astronomers are ascertaining their real motions in the celestial spaces to a nicety undreamed of by even the exacting Halley.

The moon, of priceless service to the early navigator, was regarded by all astronomers as endowed with an average rate of motion round the earth that did not vary from age to age. But Halley questioned this too; and on comparing with the ancient value from Chaldean eclipses, he made another discovery--the secular acceleration of the moon's mean motion, as it is technically termed. This was a colossal discovery in celestial dynamics; and the reason underlying it lay hidden in Newton's law for yet another century, till the keener mathematics of Laplace detected its true origin.

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With Newton, Halley laid down the firm foundations of celestial mechanics, and they pushed the science as far as the mathematics of their day would permit. Halley, however, was not content with elucidating the motion of bodies nearest the earth, and pressed to the utmost confines of the solar system known to him. Here, too, he made a signal discovery of that mutual disturbance of the planets in their motion round the sun, called the great inequality of Jupiter and Saturn.

Halley's versatile genius attacked all the great problems of the day. His observation of the sun's total eclipse in 1715 is the earliest reliable account of such a phenomenon by a trained astronomer. He described the corona minutely and was the first to see that other interesting phenomenon which only an alert observer can detect, which a great astronomer of a later day compared to the "ignition of a fine train of gunpowder," and which has ever since borne the name of "Baily's beads."

Besides being a great astronomer, Halley was a man of affairs as well, which Newton, although the greater mathematician, was not. Without Halley, Newton's superb discovery might easily have been lost to the age and nation, for the latter was bent merely on making discoveries, and on speculative contemplation of them, with never a thought of publishing to the world.

Halley, more practical and businesslike, insisted on careful writing out and publication. Newton was then only forty-two, and Halley fully fourteen years his junior. But the philosophers of that day were keenly alive to the mystery of Kepler's laws, and Halley was fully conscious of the grandeur and far-reaching significance of Newton's great generalization which embodied all three of Kepler's laws in one.

Newton at last yielded, though reluctantly, and the "Principia" was given to the world, though wholly at Halley's private charges.

But Halley was far from being completely engrossed with the absorbing problems of the sky; things terrestrial held for years his undivided attention. Imagine present-day Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty intrusting a ship of the British navy to civilian command. Yet such was their confidence in Halley that he was commissioned as captain of H. M.'s pink _Paramour_ in 1698, with instructions to proceed to southern seas for geographical discoveries, and for improving knowledge of the longitude problem, and of the variations of the compass. Trade winds and monsoons, charts of magnetic variation, tides and surveys of the Channel coast, and experiments with diving bells were practical activities that occupied his attention.

Halley in 1720 became Astronomer Royal. He was the second incumbent of this great office, but the first to supply the Royal Observatory with instruments of its own, some of which adorn its walls even to-day. His long series of lunar observations and his magnetic researches were of immense practical value in navigation.

Halley lived to a ripe old age and left the world vastly better than he found it. His rise from humblest obscurity was most remarkable, and he lived to gratify all the ambitions of his early manhood. "Of attractive appearance, pleasing manners, and ready wit," says one of his biographers, "loyal, generous, and free from self-seeking, he was one of the most personally engaging men who ever held the office of Astronomer Royal."

He died in office at Greenwich in 1742.

"Halley was buried," says Chambers, "in the churchyard of St. Margaret's, Lee, not far from Greenwich, and it has lately been announced that the Admiralty have decided to repair his tomb at the public expense, no descendants of his being known." There is no suitable monument in England to the memory of one of her greatest scientific men. In any event the collection and republication of his epoch-making papers would be welcomed by astronomers of every nation.