THE ROYAL OBSERVATORY
GREENWICH
CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTION
I had parted from a friend one day just as he met an acquaintance of his to whom I was unknown. 'Who is that?' said the newcomer, referring to me. My friend replied that I was an astronomer from Greenwich Observatory.
'Indeed; and what does he do there?'
This question completely exhausted my friend's information, for as his tastes did not lead him in the direction of astronomy, he had at no time ever concerned himself to inquire as to the nature of my official duties. 'Oh—er—why—he observes, don't you know?' and the answer, vague as it was, completely slaked the inquirer's thirst for knowledge.
It is not every one who has such exceedingly nebulous ideas of an astronomer's duties. More frequently we find that the inquirer has already formed a vivid and highly-coloured picture of the astronomer at his 'soul-entrancing work.' Resting on a comfortable couch, fixed at a luxurious angle, the eye-piece of some great and perfect instrument brought most conveniently to his eye, there passes before him, in grand procession, a sight such as the winter nights, when clear and frosty, give to the ordinary gazer, but increased ten thousand times in beauty, brilliance, and wonder by the power of his telescope. For him Jupiter reveals his wind-drifted clouds and sunset colours; for him Saturn spreads his rings; for him the snows of Mars fall and melt, and a thousand lunar plains are ramparted with titanic crags; his are the star-clusters, where suns in their first warm youth swarm thicker than hiving bees; his the faint veils of nebulous smoke, the first hint of shape in worlds about to be, or, perchance, the last relics of worlds for ever dead. And beside the enjoyment of all this entrancing spectacle of celestial beauty, the fortunate astronomer sits at his telescope and discovers—always he discovers.
This, or something like it, is a very popular conception of an astronomer's experiences and duty; and consequently many, when they are told that 'discoveries' are not made at Greenwich, are inclined to consider that the Observatory has failed in its purpose. An astronomer without 'discoveries' to his record is like an angler who casts all day and comes home without fish—obviously an idle or incompetent person.