Photography was first systematically applied to solve the problems presented by the eclipsed sun, July 18, 1860. It is true that a daguerreotype,[512] taken by Berkowski with the Königsberg heliometer during the eclipse of 1851, is still valuable as a record of the corona of that year; and some subsequent attempts were made to register partial phases of solar occultation, notably by Professor Bartlett at West Point in 1854;[513] but the ground remained practically unbroken until 1860.
In that year the track of totality crossed Spain, and thither, accordingly, Warren de la Rue transported his photo-heliograph, and Father Secchi his six-inch Cauchoix refractor. The question then primarily at issue was that relating to the nature of the red protuberances. Although, as already stated, the evidence collected in 1851 gave a reasonable certainty of their connection with the sun, objectors were not silenced; and when the side of incredulity was supported by so considerable an authority as M. Faye, it was impossible to treat it with contempt. Two crucial tests were available. If it could be shown that the fantastic shapes suspended above the edge of the dark moon were seen under an identical aspect from two distant stations, that fact alone would annihilate the theory of optical illusion or "mirage"; while the certainty that they were progressively concealed by the advancing moon on one side, and uncovered on the other, would effectually detach them from dependence on our satellite, and establish them as solar appendages.
Now both these tests were eminently capable of being applied by photography. But the difficulty arose that nothing was known as to the chemical power of the rosy prominence-light, while everything depended on its right estimation. A shot had to be fired, as it were, in the dark. It was a matter of some surprise, and of no small congratulation, that, in both cases, the shot took effect.
De la Rue occupied a station at Rivabellosa, in the Upper Ebro valley; Secchi set up his instrument at Desierto de las Palmas, about 250 miles to the south-east, overlooking the Mediterranean. From the totally eclipsed sun, with its strange garland of flames, each observer derived several perfectly successful impressions, which were found, on comparison, to agree in the most minute details. This at once settled the fundamental question as to the substantial reality of these objects; while their solar character was demonstrated by the passage of the moon in front of them, indisputably attested by pictures taken at successive stages of the eclipse. That forms seeming to defy all laws of equilibrium were, nevertheless, not wholly evanescent, appeared from their identity at an interval of seven minutes, during which the lunar shadow was in transit from one station to the other; and the singular energy of their actinic rays was shown by the record on the sensitive plates of some prominences invisible in the telescope. Moreover, photographic evidence strongly confirmed the inference—previously drawn by Grant and others, and now with fuller assurance by Secchi—that an uninterrupted stratum of prominence-matter encompasses the sun on all sides, forming a reservoir from which gigantic jets issue, and into which they subside.
Thus, first-fruits of accurate knowledge regarding the solar surroundings were gathered, while the value of the brief moments of eclipse gained indefinite increase, by supplementing transient visual impressions with the faithful and lasting records of the camera.
In the year 1868 the history of eclipse spectroscopy virtually began, as that of eclipse photography in 1860; that is to say, the respective methods then first gave definite results. On the 18th of August, 1868, the Indian and Malayan peninsulas were traversed by a lunar shadow producing total obscuration during five minutes and thirty-eight seconds. Two English and two French expeditions were despatched to the distant regions favoured by an event so propitious to the advance of knowledge, chiefly to obtain the verdict of the prism as to the composition of prominences. Nor were they despatched in vain. An identical discovery was made by nearly all the observers. At Jamkandi, in the Western Ghauts, where Lieutenant (now Colonel) Herschel was posted, unremitting bad weather threatened to baffle his eager expectations; but during the lapse of the critical five and a half minutes the clouds broke, and across the driving wrack a "long, finger-like projection" jutted out over the margin of the dark lunar globe. In another moment the spectroscope was pointed towards it; three bright lines—red, orange, and blue—flashed out, and the problem was solved.[514] The problem was solved in this general sense, that the composition out of glowing vapours of the objects infelicitously termed "protuberances" or "prominences" was no longer doubtful; although further inquiry was needed for the determination of the particular species to which those vapours belonged.
Similar, but more complete observations were made, with less atmospheric hindrance, by Tennant and Janssen at Guntoor, by Pogson at Masulipatam, and by Rayet at Wha-Tonne, on the coast of the Malay peninsula, the last observer counting as many as nine bright lines.[515] Among them it was not difficult to recognise the characteristic light of hydrogen; and it was generally, though over-hastily, assumed that the orange ray matched the luminous emissions of sodium. But fuller opportunities were at hand.
The eclipse of 1868 is chiefly memorable for having taught astronomers to do without eclipses, so far, at least, as one particular branch of solar inquiry is concerned. Inspired by the beauty and brilliancy of the variously tinted prominence-lines revealed to him by the spectroscope, Janssen exclaimed to those about him, "Je verrai ces lignes-là en dehors des éclipses!" On the following morning he carried into execution the plan which formed itself in his brain while the phenomenon which suggested it was still before his eyes. It rests upon an easily intelligible principle.
The glare of our own atmosphere alone hides the appendages of the sun from our daily view. To a spectator on an airless planet, the central globe would appear attended by all its splendid retinue of crimson prominences, silvery corona, and far-spreading zodiacal light projected on the star-spangled black background of an absolutely unilluminated sky. Now the spectroscope offers the means of indefinitely weakening atmospheric glare by diffusing a constant amount of it over an area widened ad libitum. But monochromatic or "bright-line" light is, by its nature, incapable of being so diffused. It can, of course, be deviated by refraction to any extent desired; but it always remains equally concentrated, in whatever direction it may be thrown. Hence, when it is mixed up with continuous light—as in the case of the solar flames shining through our atmosphere—it derives a relative gain in intensity from every addition to the dispersive power of the spectroscope with which the heterogeneous mass of beams is analysed. Employ prisms enough, and eventually the undiminished rays of persistent colour will stand out from the continually fading rainbow-tinted band, by which they were at first effectually veiled.
This Janssen saw by a flash of intuition while the eclipse was in progress; and this he realised at 10 A.M. next morning, August 19, 1868—the date of the beginning of spectroscopic work at the margin of the unobscured sun. During the whole of that day and many subsequent ones, he enjoyed, as he said, the advantage of a prolonged eclipse. The intense interest with which he surveyed the region suddenly laid bare to his scrutiny was heightened by evidences of rapid and violent change. On the 18th of August, during the eclipse, a vast spiral structure, at least 89,000 miles high, was perceived, planted in surprising splendour on the rim of the interposed moon. If was formed as General Tennant judged from its appearance in his photographs, by the encounter of two mounting torrents of flame, and was distinguished as the "Great Horn." Next day it was in ruins; hardly a trace remained to show where it had been.[516] Janssen's spectroscope furnished him besides with the strongest confirmation of what had already been reported by the telescope and the camera as to the continuous nature of the scarlet "sierra" lying at the base of the prominences. Everywhere at the sun's edge the same bright lines appeared.