The distortion in the orbit of the planet Mercury has been accounted for by the urgent suggestion that there must be some planet, as yet undiscovered, that disturbs the regularity of Mercury’s movements, but whose orbit is so near to the sun as to baffle all ordinary efforts to see it. It has received, by anticipation, the prenatal name of Vulcan. Many eyes have peered most intently into the region indicated, and some few have imagined they had found what they sought. A physician of the village of Orgeres, France, M. Lescarbault by name, on March 20, 1859, saw such an object pass over the sun’s disk. The skillful Le Verrier was much impressed by this physician’s minute account of the occurrence. But there was no confirmation of the alleged discovery. At the time of subsequent eclipses that part of the heavens has been repeatedly examined closely, but in vain. So we must wait longer before believing that Vulcan does exist.
When, in 1877, Professor Hall, through the powerful telescope at Washington, saw that Mars was attended by two tiny satellites, he put a permanent injunction on the further use of the once favorite phrase,
And so of the question oft discussed in the old-time debating societies, “Are the planets inhabited?” It may still be left in the hands of young collegians, notwithstanding the fact that our largest telescopes give only negative testimony.
In a solar eclipse in February, 1736, that was annular in shape, just before the sun was completely hidden, the narrow horn of light seemed to break into a series of dots, or luminous points, which, when noted again a century later and described by Francis Baily, received the name of “Baily Beads.” It was attempted to explain this as caused by the moon’s mountains cutting off the last rays of sunlight, or else as produced by irradiation. But with the advent of stronger telescopic power the phenomenon has come to an end.
David Rittenhouse, of Norristown, whom Thomas Jefferson considered “second to no astronomer living,” built an orrery worth a thousand dollars, to illustrate mechanically the motions of all the planets, and though the instrument is still treasured in the University of Pennsylvania, and its duplicate at Princeton, among the relics of a past age, it is assigned to the category of toys. Mural circles, much depended upon to measure the declination of heavenly bodies, have fallen into disuse, supplanted by improved transit instruments.