“At the dead hour of the night, when the world is hushed in sleep
and all is still; when there is not a sound to be heard save the dead
beat escapement of the clock, counting with hollow voice the footsteps
of time in ceaseless round, I turn to the Ephemeris and find there, by
calculations made years ago, that when that clock tells a certain hour, a
star which I never saw will be in the field of the telescope for a
moment, flit through and then disappear. The instrument is set; the
moment approaches and is intently awaited—I look—the star mute with
eloquence that gathers sublimity from the silence of the night, comes
smiling and dancing into the field, and at the instant predicted even to
the fraction of a second, it makes its transit and is gone. With
emotions too deep for the organs of speech, the heart swells out with
unutterable anthems; we then see that there is harmony in the heavens
above; and though we cannot hear, we feel the ‘music of the spheres.’” —
Matthew Fontaine Maury, in an 1849 presentation to the Virginia
Historical Society. Maury was superintendent of the U.S. Naval
Observatory.
Read more about Maury and other retro scientists in Caren Cooper's guest posts at the Scientific American blogs.
Video: Yosemite Nature Notes on night skies and light pollution.
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