1. Sourcebook for research in music Crabtree pdf
download
https://ebookmass.com/product/sourcebook-for-research-in-music-
crabtree/
Explore and download more ebooks at ebookmass.com
2. We have selected some products that you may be interested in
Click the link to download now or visit ebookmass.com
for more options!.
Statistics in Music Education Research Joshua A. Russell
https://ebookmass.com/product/statistics-in-music-education-research-
joshua-a-russell/
The sourcebook for clinical research : a practical guide
for study conduct Martien
https://ebookmass.com/product/the-sourcebook-for-clinical-research-a-
practical-guide-for-study-conduct-martien/
(eTextbook PDF) for Music for Sight Singing (What’s New in
Music) 10th Edition
https://ebookmass.com/product/etextbook-pdf-for-music-for-sight-
singing-whats-new-in-music-10th-edition/
Engaging Musical Practices: A Sourcebook for Middle School
General Music Suzanne L. Burton
https://ebookmass.com/product/engaging-musical-practices-a-sourcebook-
for-middle-school-general-music-suzanne-l-burton-2/
3. Engaging Musical Practices: A Sourcebook for Middle School
General Music Suzanne L. Burton
https://ebookmass.com/product/engaging-musical-practices-a-sourcebook-
for-middle-school-general-music-suzanne-l-burton/
Methods In Behavioural Research 3rd Edition Paul C. Cozby
https://ebookmass.com/product/methods-in-behavioural-research-3rd-
edition-paul-c-cozby/
Health Technology: Sourcebook 3rd Edition Health Reference
https://ebookmass.com/product/health-technology-sourcebook-3rd-
edition-health-reference/
Bailey’s Research for the Health Professional 3rd Edition,
(Ebook PDF)
https://ebookmass.com/product/baileys-research-for-the-health-
professional-3rd-edition-ebook-pdf/
The Practice of Qualitative Research: Engaging Students in
the Research Process 3rd Edition, (Ebook PDF)
https://ebookmass.com/product/the-practice-of-qualitative-research-
engaging-students-in-the-research-process-3rd-edition-ebook-pdf/
5. | y: !;; I; ■ f ' (h Hl.f 11 1
,!ii..,r4 fjW''
1 ;!'!-•/!(>;* jijTi'Kl'if*;, 0i,“'r’tW{,.
(.““I tf II
* i '": ■<;> ' yS"n£ i{ ' rpJl,!lJ i sfemuu W-*
j¥ h' K~% In, / £4 I lr'“"|
11, •f T fT ’?
,%,/« H p I I
l ¥ ,1. W' &J- J„
■ti j&^sKSiSst
fW>|®
:'
■-4
13. Preface xi
Contents
1. Introductory Materials 1
Common Bibliographical Terms 1
German Bibliographical Terms 8
French Bibliographical Terms 12
Library of Congress Music Classification 14
2. Basic Bibliographical Tools for Research in Music 21
Music Literature Sources 22
Current Writings about Music 22
Periodicals 23
Periodical Articles 24
Bibliographic Databases 25
Music Dictionaries and Encyclopedias 26
Festschriften 27
Monographs in Series 27
Congress Reports 27
Dissertations 28
Biographies of Musicians 29
Garland Composer Resource Manuals 30
Other Bibliographies of Music Literature Sources 31
Directories and Catalogs of Institutions 32
Libraries 32
Library and Union Catalogs 33
American 33
European 34
International 34
Musical Instrument Collections 36
Schools of Music 36
International Music Guides 37
Music Sources 38
Primary Sources of Early Music: Manuscripts
and Prints 38
General 38
American 40
Editions of Music 40
Thematic Catalogues 42
158119
14. VI Contents
Catalogues of Librettos 42
Discographies 43
Bibliographies of Discographies 43
Guides to Currently Available Recordings 44
Specialized Discographies 44
Classical and Opera 44
Gregorian Chant and Early Music 45
American Music 45
Conductors 45
Women Composers 45
Ethnomusicology 46
Jazz 46
Selected General Bibliographies 46
3. Area Bibliographies and Other Reference Sources 48
Musicology 48
The History of Musicology 49
Comprehensive Overviews 50
Selected Discussions of the Discipline in
Chronological Order 51
Discussions of Musicology in the United States
in Chronological Order 52
Music Historiography 53
Miscellaneous Sources 53
Bibliographic Database 54
Ethnomusicology 54
General Sources 55
Classic Presentations of the Field 55
Works about Ethnomusicology as a Field
of Research 56
Surveys of World Music 56
Instruments 57
Selected Monographs and Studies 57
Examplars of Ethnomusicological Method 57
General Works about Individual Cultures
or Cultural Areas 58
Bibliographies and Other Reference Guides 60
Performance Practice 60
General Treatments 62
Studies Specific to an Era 62
Examples of More Specialized Discussions 62
Discussions of the Performance Practice
Movement 64
Guides for Performers 65
15. Visit https://ebookmass.com today to explore
a vast collection of ebooks across various
genres, available in popular formats like
PDF, EPUB, and MOBI, fully compatible with
all devices. Enjoy a seamless reading
experience and effortlessly download high-
quality materials in just a few simple steps.
Plus, don’t miss out on exciting offers that
let you access a wealth of knowledge at the
best prices!
16. Contents vii
Studies of Historical Interest 67
Editions of Selected Primary Sources 68
Anthologies 69
Bibliographies of the Literature 69
Music Theory 69
The History of Theory 71
General Issues of Style and Analysis 72
Twentieth-Century Theories of Tonal Music 73
Theories of Tonality and Tonal Music 73
Schenkerian Analysis 74
Twentieth-Century Theories of Nontonal Music 75
Atonality, Serialism, and Set Theory 75
Modality and Octatonicism 75
Microtonality 76
Musical Time: Theories of Rhythm and Meter 76
Theories of Musical Timbre 76
Aesthetics and Semiotics of Music 77
Texts of Theoretical Treatises 78
Bibliographies and Guides to the Literature 78
Music Education 80
The History of Music Education 81
Research Methodology 81
General Reference Sources 82
Research Overviews 82
Bibliographies, Directories, and Indexes 83
Bibliographies in Other Selected Areas 85
African-American Music 85
American Music 86
Dance 87
Jazz 88
Women in Music 89
Dictionaries and Encyclopedias of Music 90
General Dictionaries and Encyclopedias 90
Of Historical Interest 93
Biographical Dictionaries and Encyclopedias 93
International 94
North American 95
English 96
Of Historical Interest 96
Dictionaries of Terms 96
Individual Subject Areas 98
Of Historical Interest 98
Specialized Dictionaries and Encyclopedias 99
17. viii Contents
Musical Instruments and Makers 100
General 100
Of Historical Interest 100
Strings 100
Winds 101
Percussion 101
Keyboard 101
Opera 101
Sacred Music 102
Jazz 103
Musical Themes and Compositional Devices
Miscellaneous Sources 104
The New Harvard Dictionary of Music: Articles of
General Interest 104
Research in Music 105
Music History, Style Periods, and Trends 105
Countries, Cities, and Musical Centers 105
General Music Theory 106
Musical Forms and Genres 106
Performance and Performance Practice 106
The Music Profession 107
5. Sources Treating the History of Music 108
Historical Surveys of Western Music 108
Miscellaneous Sources 110
Of Historical Interest 110
Histories in Series 110
Of Historical Interest 115
Single-Volume Studies in English of Historical
Periods 116
Medieval, Renaissance 116
Baroque, Classic, Romantic 117
Twentieth Century 117
Miscellaneous Sources 118
Histories of American Music 118
English-Language Sources on Musical Genres and
Forms 119
Vocal 120
Solo Song 120
Cantata 121
Dramatic Music 121
Surveys and General Studies 121
Studies by Country 122
Czech Republic 122
England 122
18. Contents ix
France 123
Germany and Austria 123
Italy 123
Libretto Studies 124
Secular Part Song 124
Sacred Music 124
Oratorio, Passion, and Requiem 126
Surveys of Choral Music 127
Instrumental 127
Symphonic Music 127
Chamber Music 128
Keyboard Music 129
Sonata 130
Fugue 130
Miscellaneous Sources 131
Chronologies and Outlines 131
General and Comprehensive 131
Twentieth Century 133
American 133
Biographies of Composers in English 133
Series of Composers' Biographies in English 143
Collections of Excerpts from Primary Sources on Music 147
Histories of Musical Instruments 148
Pictorial Sources on Music History 149
General 150
Instruments and Ensembles 150
6. Current Research Journals in Music 152
Musicology 153
Bibliography 153
Historical Musicology 153
Limited to a Country and/or Period 154
Limited to a Single Composer 155
Iconography 155
Performance Practice 156
Ethnomusicology 156
Music Theory and New Music 157
Performing Instrument, Medium, or Genre 157
Music Education 158
Other Journals 159
7. Editions of Music 160
Sources in English on Music Notation and Editing 160
General Sources 161
Editing Early Music 162
19. x Contents
New Notation 163
Historical Sets and Monuments of Music 163
Limited to an Era 164
Limited to a Region 165
Limited to an Era and a Region 166
Limited to a Medium or Genre 167
Instrumental Ensemble 167
Keyboard 168
Lute/Guitar 168
Vocal 168
Limited to a Medium or Genre and to a Region 168
Without Specific Limitations 169
Composers' Complete Works and Catalogues 170
Anthologies of Music 180
General 180
Limited to an Era 182
Limited to a Medium or Genre 183
Limited to a Medium or Genre and to a Region 184
Comprehensive Multivolume Set 185
8. Miscellaneous Sources 188
Manuals of Style and Other Aids to Research,
Writing, and Publication 188
General Aids to Research 189
Computer Aids to Music Research 190
General Manuals of Style and Other Guides to
English 191
Guides to Writing about Music 192
Guides to the Publication Process 193
Miscellaneous 194
The Music Industry 194
General Sources 194
Careers in Music 195
Performing Arts, Competitions, and Festivals 196
Musical Instrument Makers 197
Music Publishing and Copyright 197
Music Recording and Production 198
Grant Support for the Arts 199
Arts Management 199
Periodicals and Periodical Database 200
Indexes 202
Index of Authors, Editors, Compilers, and Translators 202
Index of Titles 214
20. Preface
This book is intended as an introductory reference source of
varied information, largely bibliographical, pertaining to research
in the field of music. It has come largely out of the authors' years of
experience in teaching Introduction to Graduate Study and Senior
Research, two courses in music bibliography, research, and writing
at the College-Conservatory of Music, University of Cincinnati,
and it may function as a text in such courses, as well as in any mu¬
sic research class or seminar, graduate or upper-class undergradu¬
ate. If so used, it is not necessarily meant to be followed page by
page from beginning to end, but adapted in accordance with the
needs and emphases of different instructors and schools or individ¬
uals using the book. Its use is by no means limited to the classroom;
it may also serve as a guide to current important sources in music
for music researchers, faculty members, librarians, performing and
teaching musicians, and musical amateurs.
The Sourcebook for Research in Music consists of seven chapters of
bibliographies, each of a different type of source, preceded by a
chapter of introductory materials regarding research in music. The
bibliographies are usually divided into subcategories in order to
avoid the confusion of long, undifferentiated lists of variously re¬
lated items. The organization of the book is evident in the detailed
table of contents, with all of the subheadings included, which
should facilitate fairly rapid access to particular categories or types
of sources. Furthermore, there are collective annotations through¬
out the book that introduce and identify specific items within the
bibliographies they precede, often singling out sources of particular
importance or distinguishing between different ones; where appro¬
priate, cross references are made to items appearing elsewhere in
the book. Finally, there are two indexes: the first of authors, edi¬
tors, compilers, and translators; the second of titles of books, arti¬
cles, and series.
The past decade or so has witnessed an extraordinary expan¬
sion of the materials of music, and the field is growing ever more
21. xii Preface
rapidly. It has become a herculean task to try to keep up with the
many effort-saving sources that are constantly becoming available.
Thus, in the interest of practicality and usefulness, emphasis has
been placed on the more recent and up-to-date ones rather than on
those of more purely historical or musicological interest, and on
English-language sources rather than on those in foreign lan¬
guages. Certain major early sources have occasionally been in¬
cluded, usually under the heading "Of Historical Interest," and
some of the bibliographies include more recent sources in other lan¬
guages as well, chiefly German and French, when considered to be
of particular importance. (Brief lists of bibliographical terms in
these languages have been provided in chapter 1 to assist further in
confronting such sources.) Some of the bibliographies—in particu¬
lar the "Basic Bibliographical Tools for Research in Music" in chap¬
ter 2—are meant to provide the means of direct access to materials
of research; others emphasize the basic or current representative
sources of significance. In other words, in the bibliographies and
other materials that follow, the guiding principle, to one extent or
another, is selectivity rather than comprehensiveness, as detailed
in the chapter introductions and collective annotations throughout.
We have not tried to cover every conceivable area in which re¬
search might be conducted in music. For exhaustive lists of sources
in areas such as, for example, the literature of specific instruments
and performing ensembles, the music of individual countries
throughout the world, popular music, and folk music, the reader
should consult Vincent H. Duckies and Michael A. Keller, Music
Reference and Research Materials: An Annotated Bibliography, 4th ed.,
rev.; and Guy A. Marco, ed.. Information on Music: A Handbook of Ref¬
erence Sources in European Languages (both listed on p. 32 below).
Three sources. The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians,
The New Harvard Dictionary of Music, and, to a lesser extent. Die
Musik in Geschichte und Gegenwart, are cited fairly often throughout
these pages, so they are given in abbreviated form whenever they
occur (full citations appear in chapter 4 below on pp. 93, 97, and 92
respectively).
The stylistic and bibliographical format followed throughout is
the one specified in Kate L. Turabian's A Manual for Writers of Term
Papers, Theses, and Dissertations, 5th ed. (listed on p. 192 below). We
have made a few adaptations, the most important of which are: (1)
In the case of sources in second or later editions, or of translations
of sources published earlier, the date of the original edition is also
given (e.g., "First published in 1963"). (2) In the interest of simplic¬
ity, information about reprint and microform editions is usually
omitted, the main exceptions being those instances in which some-
22. Preface xiii
thing new has been added in the reprint, such as a list of correc¬
tions or a new preface. (3) Normally, when more than one city and/
or publishing firm is listed in a source, only one of each is cited
here, the city usually being the one where the principal headquar¬
ters is located. (4) Ordinarily, complicated or frequently changing
publication information in serial publications, e.g., in the case of
sets and monuments of music, has been abbreviated. For complete
publication data related to music editions, see Hill and Stephens'
recent Collected Editions, Historical Series and Sets, and Monuments of
Music: A Bibliography (listed on p. 41 below).
We wish to extend our thanks to the following persons whose
expertise and assistance have helped in various ways in the prep¬
aration of this book: Charles Benner, J. Bunker Clark, Carl Dahl-
gren, Karen Faaborg, Warren George, Lewis B. Hilton, Roland
Jackson, David Lasocki, Michael Luebbe, bruce d. mcclung, Sever-
ine Neff, Bruno Nettl, Edward Nowacki, Karin Pendle, Lewis Pe¬
terman, Jennifer Stasack, Jennifer Thomas, J. Randall Wheaton,
Lizabeth Wing, and Robert Zierolf; and to Robert Johnson and his
staff at the Gorno Memorial Music Library of the University of Cin¬
cinnati: Paul Cauthen, Sharon Downing, Ollie Meyer, Mark Pal-
kovic, and Rebecca Willingham. Finally, we are grateful to E.
Eugene Helm, Jon Piersol, and Ruth Watanabe for their initial en¬
couragement in this project.
University of Cincinnati
June 1992
26. Visit https://ebookmass.com today to explore
a vast collection of ebooks across various
genres, available in popular formats like
PDF, EPUB, and MOBI, fully compatible with
all devices. Enjoy a seamless reading
experience and effortlessly download high-
quality materials in just a few simple steps.
Plus, don’t miss out on exciting offers that
let you access a wealth of knowledge at the
best prices!
28. 175
176
how he did so after his marriage in 1908. He went with Mrs.
Lowell again in the spring of 1910, giving lectures before the
Société Astronomique in Paris, and the Royal Institution in London,
and once more, two years later, when we find him entertained and
speaking before several scientific bodies in both Paris and London.
That autumn he was confined to the house by illness; and although
he improved and went to Flagstaff in March, he writes of himself in
August 1913 as “personally still on the retired list.” In the spring it
was thought wise for him to take another vacation abroad; and since
his wife was recovering from an operation he went alone. He saw his
old friends in France and England and enjoyed their hospitality; but
he did not feel well, and save for showing at the Bureau des
Longitudes “some of our latest discoveries” he seems to have made
no addresses. He sailed back on the Mauretania on August 1, just
before England declared war, and four days later she was instructed
to run to Halifax, which she did, reaching it the following day.
That was destined to be his last voyage, for although he seemed well
again he was working above his strength. His time in these years was
divided between Flagstaff, where his days and nights were spent in
observing and calculating, and Boston, where the alternative was
between calculations and business. He was always busy and when
one summer he hired a house at Marblehead near to his cousins Mr.
and Mrs. Guy Lowell he would frequently drop in to see them; and
was charming when he did so; but could not spare the time to take a
meal there, and never stayed more than five minutes.
29. 177
CHAPTER XIX
THE SEARCH FOR A TRANS-
NEPTUNIAN PLANET
We must now return to the last paragraph of his “Memoir on the
Origin of the Planets,” where he suggests the probable distance of a
body beyond Neptune. In fact he had long been interested in its
existence and whereabouts. By 1905 his calculations had given him
so much encouragement that the Observatory began to search for
the outer planet, which he then expected would be like Neptune, low
in density, large and bright, and therefore much more easily detected
than it turned out to be. But the photographs taken in 1906, with a
well planned routine search the next year revealed nothing, and he
became distrustful of the data on which he was working. In March
1908, one finds in his letter-books from the office in Boston the first
of a series of letters to Mr. William T. Garrigan of the Naval
Observatory and Nautical Almanack about the residuals of Uranus—
that is the residue in the perturbations of its normal orbit not
accounted for by those due to the known planets. He suggests
including later data than had hitherto been done; asks what elements
other astronomers had taken into account in estimating the residuals;
points out that for different periods they are made up on different
theories in the publications of Greenwich Observatory, and that some
curious facts appear from them. About his own calculation he
writes on December 28, 1908: “The results so far are both
interesting and promising.” He was hard at work on the calculations
for such a planet, based upon the residuals of Uranus, and assisted
by a corps of computers, with Miss Elizabeth Williams, now Mrs.
George Hall Hamilton of the Observatory at Mandeville, Jamaica, at
their head.
30. 178
Before trying to explain the process by which he reached his results it
may be well to give his own account of the discovery of Neptune by a
similar method:
[39]
“Neptune has proved a planet of surprises. Though its orbital
revolution is performed direct, its rotation apparently takes place
backward, in a plane tilted about 35° to its orbital course. Its satellite
certainly travels in this retrograde manner. Then its appearance is
unexpectedly bright, while its spectrum shows bands which as yet,
for the most part, defy explanation, though they state positively the
vast amount of its atmosphere and its very peculiar constitution. But
first and not least of its surprises was its discovery,—a set of
surprises, in fact. For after owing recognition to one of the most
brilliant mathematical triumphs, it turned out not to be the planet
expected.
“‘Neptune is much nearer the Sun than it ought to be,’ is the
authoritative way in which a popular historian puts the intruding
planet in its place. For the planet failed to justify theory by not
fulfilling Bode’s law, which Leverrier and Adams, in pointing out the
disturber of Uranus, assumed ‘as they could do no otherwise.’ Though
not strictly correct, as not only did both geometers do otherwise, but
neither did otherwise enough, the quotation may serve to bring
Bode’s law into court, as it was at the bottom of one of the
strangest and most generally misunderstood chapters in
celestial mechanics.
“Very soon after Uranus was recognized as a planet, approximate
ephemerides of its motion resulted in showing that it had several
times previously been recorded as a fixed star. Bode himself
discovered the first of these records, one by Mayer in 1756, and Bode
and others found another made by Flamsteed in 1690. These
observations enabled an elliptic orbit to be calculated which satisfied
them all. Subsequently others were detected. Lemonnier discovered
that he had himself not discovered it several times, cataloguing it as
a fixed star. Flamsteed was spared a like mortification by being dead.
31. 179
For both these observers had recorded it two or more nights running,
from which it would seem almost incredible not to have suspected its
character from its change of place.
“Sixteen of these pre-discovery observations were found (there are
now nineteen known), which with those made upon it since gave a
series running back a hundred and thirty years, when Alexis Bouvard
prepared his tables of the planet, the best up to that time, published
in 1821. In doing so, however, he stated that he had been unable to
find any orbit which would satisfy both the new and the old
observations. He therefore rejected the old as untrustworthy,
forgetting that they had been satisfied thirty years before, and based
his tables solely on the new, leaving it to posterity, he said, to decide
whether the old observations were faulty or whether some unknown
influence had acted on the planet. He had hardly made this invidious
distinction against the accuracy of the ancient observers when his
own tables began to be out and grew seriously more so, so
that within eleven years they quite failed to represent the
planet.
“The discrepancies between theory and observation attracted the
attention of the astronomic world, and the idea of another planet
began to be in the air. The great Bessel was the first to state
definitely his conviction in a popular lecture at Königsberg in 1840,
and thereupon encouraged his talented assistant Flemming to begin
reductions looking to its locating. Unfortunately, in the midst of his
labors Flemming died, and shortly after Bessel himself, who had
taken up the matter after Flemming’s death.
“Somewhat later Arago, then head of the Paris observatory, who had
also been impressed with the existence of such a planet, requested
one of his assistants, a remarkable young mathematician named
Leverrier, to undertake its investigation. Leverrier, who had already
evidenced his marked ability in celestial mechanics, proceeded to
grapple with the problem in the most thorough manner. He began by
looking into the perturbations of Uranus by Jupiter and Saturn. He
32. 180
started with Bouvard’s work, with the result of finding it very much
the reverse of good. The farther he went, the more errors he found,
until he was obliged to cast it aside entirely and recompute these
perturbations himself. The catalogue of Bouvard’s errors he gave
must have been an eye-opener generally, and it speaks for the ability
and precision with which Leverrier conducted his investigation that
neither Airy, Bessel, nor Adams had detected these errors, with the
exception of one term noticed by Bessel and subsequently by Adams.
[40]
The result of this recalculation of his was to show the more
clearly that the irregularities in the motion of Uranus could not
be explained except by the existence of another planet
exterior to him. He next set himself to locate this body. Influenced by
Bode’s law, he began by assuming it to lie at twice Uranus’ distance
from the Sun, and, expressing the observed discrepancies in
longitude in equations, comprising the perturbations and possible
errors in the elements of Uranus, proceeded to solve them. He could
get no rational solution. He then gave the distance and the extreme
observations a certain elasticity, and by this means was able to find a
position for the disturber which sufficiently satisfied the conditions of
the problem. Leverrier’s first memoir on the subject was presented to
the French Academy on November 10, 1845, that giving the place of
the disturbing planet on June 1, 1846. There is no evidence that the
slightest search in consequence was made by anybody, with the
possible exception of the Naval Observatory at Washington. On
August 31 he presented his third paper, giving an orbit, mass, and
more precise place for the unknown. Still no search followed. Taking
advantage of the acknowledging of a memoir, Leverrier, in September,
wrote to Dr. Galle in Berlin asking him to look for the planet. The
letter reached Galle on the 23rd, and that very night he found a
planet showing a disk just as Leverrier had foretold, and within 55′ of
its predicted place.
“The planet had scarcely been found when, on October 1, a letter
from Sir John Herschel appeared in the London Athenaeum
announcing that a young Cambridge graduate, Mr. J. C. Adams, had
been engaged on the same investigation as Leverrier, and with similar
33. 181
182
results. This was the first public announcement of Mr. Adams’ labors.
It then appeared that he had started as early as 1843, and had
communicated his results to Airy in October, 1845, a year
before. Into the sad set of circumstances which prevented the
brilliant young mathematician from reaping the fruit of what might
have been his discovery, we need not go. It reflected no credit on
any one concerned except Adams, who throughout his life maintained
a dignified silence. Suffice it to say that Adams had found a place for
the unknown within a few degrees of Leverrier’s; that he had
communicated these results to Airy; that Airy had not considered
them significant until Leverrier had published an almost identical
place; that then Challis, the head of the Cambridge Observatory, had
set to work to search for the planet but so routinely that he had
actually mapped it several times without finding that he had done so,
when word arrived of its discovery by Galle.
“But now came an even more interesting chapter in this whole
strange story. Mr. Walker at Washington and Dr. Petersen of Altona
independently came to the conclusion from a provisional circular orbit
for the newcomer that Lalande had catalogued in the vicinity of its
path. They therefore set to work to find out if any Lalande stars were
missing. Dr. Petersen compared a chart directly with the heavens to
the finding a star absent, which his calculations showed was about
where Neptune should have been at the time. Walker found that
Lalande could only have swept in the neighborhood of Neptune on
the 8th and 10th of May, 1795. By assuming different eccentricities
for Neptune’s orbit under two hypotheses for the place of its
perihelion, he found a star catalogued on the latter date which
sufficiently satisfied his computations. He predicted that on searching
the sky this star would be found missing. On the next fine
evening Professor Hubbard looked for it, and the star was
gone. It had been Neptune.
[41]
“This discovery enabled elliptic elements to be computed for it, when
the surprising fact appeared that it was not moving in anything
approaching the orbit either Leverrier or Adams had assigned.
34. Instead of a mean distance of 36 astronomical units or more, the
stranger was only at 30. The result so disconcerted Leverrier that he
declared that ‘the small eccentricity which appeared to result from Mr.
Walker’s computations would be incompatible with the nature of the
perturbations of the planet Herschel,’ as he called Uranus. In other
words, he expressly denied that Neptune was his planet. For the
newcomer proceeded to follow the path Walker had computed. This
was strikingly confirmed by Mauvais’ discovering that Lalande had
observed the star on the 8th of May as well as on the 10th, but
because the two places did not agree, he had rejected the first
observation, and marked the second as doubtful, thus carefully
avoiding a discovery that actually knocked at his door.
“Meanwhile Peirce had made a remarkable contribution to the whole
subject. In a series of profound papers presented to the American
Academy, he went into the matter more generally than either of the
discoverers, to the startling conclusion ‘that the planet Neptune is not
the planet to which geometrical analysis had directed the telescope,
and that its discovery by Galle must be regarded as a happy
accident.’
[42]
He first proved this by showing that Leverrier’s two
fundamental propositions,—
35. 183
184
“1. That the disturber’s mean distance must be between 35
and 37.9 astronomical units;
“2. That its mean longitude for January 1, 1800, must have been
between 243° and 252°,—were incompatible with Neptune. Either
alone might be reconciled with the observations, but not both.
“In justification of his assertion that the discovery was a happy
accident, he showed that three solutions of the problem Leverrier
had set himself were possible, all equally complete and decidedly
different from each other, the positions of the supposed planet being
120° apart. Had Leverrier and Adams fallen upon either of the outer
two, Neptune would not have been discovered.
[43]
“He next showed that at 35.3 astronomical units, an important
change takes place in the character of the perturbations because of
the commensurability of period of a planet revolving there with that
of Uranus. In consequence of which, a planet inside of this limit
might equally account for the observed perturbations with the one
outside of it supposed by Leverrier. This Neptune actually did. From
not considering wide enough limits, Leverrier had found one
solution, Neptune fulfilled the other.
[44]
And Bode’s law was
responsible for this. Had Bode’s law not been taken originally as
basis for the disturber’s distance, those two great geometers,
Leverrier and Adams, might have looked inside.
“This more general solution, as Peirce was careful to state, does not
detract from the honor due either to Leverrier or to Adams. Their
masterly calculations, the difficulty of which no one who has not had
some experience of the subject can appreciate, remain as an
imperishable monument to both, as does also Peirce’s to
him.”
36. 185
The facts, that is what was done and written, are of course correct;
but the conclusions drawn from them are highly controversial to the
present day.
The calculations for finding an unknown planet by the perturbations
it causes in the orbit of another are extremely difficult, the more so
when the data are small and uncertain. For Percival they were very
small because Neptune,—nearest to the unknown body,—had been
discovered so short a time that its true orbit, apart from the
disturbances therein caused by other planets, was by no means
certain. In fact Percival tried to analyze its residuals, but they yielded
no rational result. This left only what could be gleaned from Uranus
after deducting the perturbations caused by Neptune, and that was
small indeed. In 1845, when the calculations were made which
revealed that planet, “the outstanding irregularities of Uranus had
reached the relatively huge sum of 133″. To-day its residuals do not
exceed 4.5″ at any point of its path.”
Then there are uncertainties depending on errors of observation,
which may be estimated by the method of least squares of the
differences between contemporary observations. Moreover there is
the uncertainty that comes from not knowing how much of the
observed motion is to be attributed to a normal orbit regulated by
the Sun, and how much to the other planets, including the unknown.
Its true motion under these influences can be ascertained only by
observing it for a long time, and by taking periods sufficiently far
apart to distinguish the continuing effects of the known bodies from
those that flow from an unknown source. This was the
ingenious method devised by Leverrier as a basis for his
calculations, and he thereby got his residuals caused by the
unknown planet in a form that could be handled.
Finally there was the uncertainty whether the residual perturbations,
however accurately determined, were caused by one or more outer
bodies. Of this Percival was, of course, well aware, and in fact, in his
study of the comets associated with Jupiter he had pointed out that
37. 186
there probably was a planet far beyond the one for which he was
now in search. But, as no one has ever been able to devise a
formula for the mutual attraction of three bodies, he could calculate
only for a single body that would account as nearly as possible for
the whole of the residuals.
Thus he knew that his work was an approximation; near enough, he
hoped, to lead to the discovery of the unknown.
The various elements in the longitude of a planet’s orbit, that is in
the plane of the ecliptic, that are affected by and affect another, are:
a—The length of its major, or longest, axis.
n—Its mean motion, which depends on the distance from the Sun.
ε—The longitude at a given time, that is its place in its orbit.
e—The eccentricity of its orbit, that is how far it is from a circle.
ῶ—The place of its perihelion, that is the position of its nearest
approach to the Sun.
(These last two determine the shape of the ellipse, and the direction
of its longer axis with respect to that of the other planet.)
m—Its mass.
Now formulas, or series of equations, that express the
perturbations caused by one planet in the orbit of another
must contain all these elements, because all of them affect the
result. But there are too many of them for a direct solution.
Therefore Leverrier assumed a distance of the unknown planet from
the Sun, and with it the mean motion which is proportional to that
distance; worked out from the residuals of Uranus at various dates a
series of equations in terms of the place of the unknown in its orbit;
and then found what place therein at a given time would give results
38. 187
reducing the residuals to a minimum—that is, would come nearest to
accounting for them. In fact, supposing that the unknown planet
would be about the distance from the Sun indicated by Bode’s law,
the limits within which he assumed trial distances were narrow, and,
as it proved, wholly beyond the place where it was found. This
method, which in its general outline Percival followed, consisted
therefore of a process of trial and error for the distance (with the
mean motion) and for the place of X in its orbit (ε). For the other
three elements (e, ῶ and m) he used in the various solutions 24 to
37 equations drawn from the residuals of Uranus at different dates,
and expressed in terms of ε. He did this in order to have several
corroborative calculations, and to discover which of them accorded
most closely with the perturbations observed.
We have seen that in 1908-09 Percival was inquiring about the exact
residuals of Uranus, and he must have been at work on them soon
afterwards, for on December 1, 1910, he writes to Mr. Lampland that
Miss Williams, his head computer, and he have been puzzling away
over that trans-Neptunian planet, have constructed the curve of
perturbations, but find some strange things, looking as if
Leverrier’s later theory of Uranus were not exact. This work
had been done by Leverrier’s methods “but with extensions in the
number and character of the terms calculated in the perturbation in
order to render it more complete.” Though uncertain of his results,
he asks Mr. Lampland, in April 1911, to look for the planet. But he
was by no means himself convinced that his data were accurate, and
he computed all over again with the residuals given by Gaillot, which
he considered more accurate than Leverrier’s in regard to the
masses, and therefore the attractions, of the known planets
concerned. Incidentally he remarks at this point in his Memoir,
[45]
in
speaking of works on celestial mechanics, that “after excellent
analytical solutions, values of the quantities involved are introduced
on the basis apparently of the respect due to age. Nautical Almanacs
abet the practice by never publishing, consciously, contemporary
values of astronomic constants; thus avoiding committal to doubtful
39. 188
results by the simple expedient of not printing anything not known
to be wrong.” His result for X, as he called the planet he was
seeking, computed by Gaillot’s residuals, differed from that found in
using Leverrier’s figures by some forty degrees to the East, and on
July 8 he telegraphs Mr. Lampland to look there.
These telegrams to Mr. Lampland continue at short intervals for a
long time with constant revisions and extensions in the calculations;
and, as he notes, every new move takes weeks in the doing; but all
without finding planet X. Perhaps it was this disappointment that led
him to make the even more gigantic calculation printed in the
Memoir, where he says: “In the present case, it seemed
advisable to pursue the subject in a different way, longer and
more laborious than these earlier methods, but also more certain
and exact: that by a true least-square method throughout. When
this was done, a result substantially differing from the preliminary
one was the outcome. It both shifted the minimum and bettered the
solution. In consequence, the whole work was done de novo in this
more rigorous way, with results which proved its value.”
Then follow many pages of transformations which, as the guide
books say of mountain climbing, no one should undertake unless he
is sure of his feet and has a perfectly steady head. But anyone can
see that, even in the same plane, the aggregate attractions of one
planet on another, pulling eventually from all possible relative
positions in their respective elliptical orbits with a force inversely as
the square of the ever-changing distance, must form a highly
complex problem. Nor, when for one of them the distance, velocity,
mass, position and shape of orbit are wholly unknown, so that all
these things must be represented by symbols, will anyone be
surprised if the relations of the two bodies are expressed by lines of
these, following one another by regiments over the pages. In fact
the Memoir is printed for those who are thoroughly familiar with this
kind of solitaire.
40. 189
For the first trial and error Percival assumed the distance of X from
the Sun to be 47.5 planetary units (the distance of the Earth from
the Sun being the unit), as that seemed on analogy a probable,
though by no means a certain, distance. With this as a basis, and
with the actual observations of Uranus brought to the nearest
accuracy by the method of least-squares of errors, he finds the
eccentricity, the place of the perihelion and the mass of X in
terms of its position in its orbit. Then he computes the results
for about every ten degrees all the way round the orbit, and finds
two positions, almost opposite, near 0° and near 180°, which reduce
the residuals to a minimum—that is which most nearly account for
the perturbations. Each of these thirty tried positions involved a vast
amount of computation, but more still was to come.
Finally, to be sure that he had covered the ground and left no
loophole for X to escape, he tried, beside the 47.5 he had already
used, a series of other possible distances from the Sun,—40.5, 42.5,
45, 51.25 units,—each of them requiring every computation to be
done over again. But the result was satisfactory, for it showed that
the residuals were most nearly accounted for by a distance not far
from 45 units (or a little less if the planet was at the opposite side of
its orbit), and that the residuals increased for a distance greater or
less than this. But still he was not satisfied, and for greater security
he took up terms of the second and third order—very difficult to deal
with—but found that they made no substantial difference in the
result.
So much for the longitude of X (that is its orbit and position in the
plane of the ecliptic) but that was not all, for its orbit might not lie in
that plane but might be inclined to it, and like all the other planets
he supposed it more or less so—more he surmised. Although he
made some calculations on the subject he did not feel that any
result obtained would be reliable, and if the longitude were near
enough he thought the planet could be found. He says:
41. 190
191
“To determine the inclination of the orbit of the unknown from the
residuals in latitude of Uranus has proved as inconclusive as
Leverrier found the like attempt in the case of Neptune.
“The cause of failure lies, it would seem, in the fact that the
elements of X enter into the observational equations for the latitude.
Not only e and ῶ are thus initially affected but ε as well. Hence as
these are doubtful from the longitude results, we can get from the
latitude ones only doubtfulness to the second power.” Nevertheless
he makes some calculations on the subject which, however, prove
unsatisfactory.
Such in outline was his method of calculating the probable orbit and
position in the sky of the trans-Neptunian planet; an herculean labor
carried out with infinite pains, and attaining, not absolute
definiteness, but results from the varying solutions sufficiently alike
to warrant the belief in a close approximation. In dealing with what
he calls the credentials for the acceptance of his results, he points
out that one of his solutions for X in which he has much confidence,
reduces the squares of the residuals to be accounted for by ninety
per cent., and in the case of some of the others almost to nothing.
Yet he had no illusions about the uncertainty of the result, for in the
conclusions of the Memoir he says:
“But that the investigation opens our eyes to the pitfalls of the past
does not on that account render us blind to those of the present. To
begin with, the curves of the solutions show that a proper change in
the errors of observation would quite alter the minimum point for
either the different mean distances or the mean longitudes. A slight
increase of the actual errors over the most probable ones, such as it
by no means strains human capacity for error to suppose, would
suffice entirely to change the most probable distance of the
disturber and its longitude at the epoch. Indeed the imposing
‘probable error’ of a set of observations imposes on no one familiar
with observation, the actual errors committed, due to systematic
causes, always far exceeding it.
42. 192
“In the next place the solutions themselves tell us of alternatives
between which they leave us in doubt to decide. If we go by
residuals alone, we should choose those solutions which have their
mean longitudes at the epoch in the neighborhood of 0°, since the
residuals are there the smallest. But on the other hand this would
place the unknown now and for many decades back in a part of the
sky which has been most assiduously scanned, while the solutions
with ε around 180° lead us to one nearly inaccessible to most
observatories, and, therefore, preferable for planetary hiding.
Between the elements of the two, there is not much to choose, all
agreeing pretty well with one another.
“Owing to the inexactitude of our data, then, we cannot regard our
results with the complacency of completeness we should like.”
The bulk of the computations for the trans-Neptunian planet were
finished by the spring of 1914, and in April he sent to Flagstaff from
Boston, where the work had been done, two of the assistant
computers. The final Memoir he read to the American Academy of
Arts and Sciences on January 13, 1915; and printed in the spring as
a publication of the Observatory. Naturally he was deeply anxious to
see the fruit from such colossal labor. In July, 1913, he had written
to Mr. Lampland: “Generally speaking what fields have you taken? Is
there nothing suspicious?” and in May, 1914, “Don’t hesitate to
startle me with a telegram ‘FOUND.’” Again, in August, he writes to
Dr. Slipher: “I feel sadly of course that nothing has been
reported about X, but I suppose the bad weather and Mrs.
Lampland’s condition may somewhat explain it”; and to Mr.
Lampland in December: “I am giving my work before the Academy
on January 13. It would be thoughtful of you to announce the actual
discovery at the same time.” Through the banter one can see the
craving to find the long-sought planet, and the grief at the baffling
of his hopes. That X was not found was the sharpest disappointment
of his life.
43. 193
If so much labor without tangible result gave little satisfaction, there
was still less glory won by a vast calculation that did not prove itself
correct. Curiously enough, he always enjoyed more recognition
among astronomers in Europe than in America; for here, as a highly
distinguished member of the craft recently remarked, he did not
belong to the guild. He was fond of calling himself an amateur—by
which he meant one who worked without remuneration—and of
noting how many of the great contributors to science were in that
category. The guild here was not readily hospitable to those who had
not been trained in the regular treadmill; and it had been shocked by
his audacity in proclaiming a discovery of intelligent handiwork on
Mars. So for the most part he remained to the end of his life an
amateur in this country; though what would have been said had he
succeeded in producing, by rigorous calculation, an unknown planet
far beyond the orbit of Neptune, it is interesting to conjecture, but
difficult to know, for the younger generation of astronomers had not
then come upon the stage nor the older ones outlived their
prejudice.
The last eighteen months of his life were spent as usual partly at
Flagstaff, where he was adding to the buildings, partly in
Boston, and in lecturing. In May, 1916, he writes to Sig.
Rigano of “Scientia” that he has not time to write an article for his
Review, and adds: “Eventually I hope to publish a work on each
planet—the whole connected together—but the end not yet.”
Fortunately he did not know how near it was.
In May he lectured at Toronto; and in the autumn in the Northwest
on Mars and other planets, at Washington State and Reed Colleges,
and the universities of Idaho, Washington, Oregon and California.
These set forth his latest views, often including much that had been
discovered at Flagstaff and elsewhere since his earlier books were
published; for his mind was far from closed to change of opinion on
newly discovered evidence. It was something of a triumphal
procession at these institutions; but it was too much.
44. 194
195
More exhausted than he was himself aware, he returned to Flagstaff
eager about a new investigation he had been planning on Jupiter’s
satellites. It will be recalled that he had found the exact position of
the gap in Saturn’s rings accounted for if the inner layers of the
planet rotated faster and therefore were more oblate than the visible
gaseous surface. Now the innermost satellite of Jupiter (the Vth)
was farther off than the simple relation between distance and period
should make it, a difference that might be explained if in Jupiter, as
in Saturn, the molten inner core were more oblate than the outer
gaseous envelope. To ascertain this the distance of the satellite V.
must be determined exactly, and with Mr. E. C. Slipher he was busy
in doing so night after night through that of November 11th. But he
was overstrained, and the next day, November 12, 1916, not long
after his return to Flagstaff, an attack of apoplexy brought to
a sudden close his intensely active life. Before he became
unconscious he said that he always knew it would come thus, but
not so soon.
He lies buried in a mausoleum built by his widow close to the dome
where his work was done.
45. 196
CHAPTER XX
PLUTO FOUND
[46]
Percival had long intended that his Observatory should be
permanent, and that his work, especially on the planets, should be
forever carried on there with an adequate foundation. Save for an
income to his wife during her lifetime, he therefore left his whole
fortune in a trust modeled on the lines of the Lowell Institute in
Boston, created eighty years earlier by his kinsman John Lowell, Jr.
The will provides for a single trustee who appoints his own
successor; the first being his cousin Guy Lowell, the next the present
trustee, Percival’s nephew, Roger Lowell Putnam. Dr. V. M. Slipher
and Mr. C. O. Lampland, who have been at the Observatory from an
early time, are the astronomers in charge, carrying on the founder’s
principles of constantly enlarging the field of study, and using for the
purpose the best instrumental equipment to be procured.
Of course the search was continued for the planet X, but without
success, and for a time almost without hope, not only because its
body is too small to show a disk, but also by reason of the multitude
of stars of like size in that crowded part of the heavens, the Milky
Way, where it is extremely difficult to detect one that has
moved. It was as if out of many thousand pins thrown upon
the floor one were slightly moved and someone were asked to find
which it was. Mere visual observation was clearly futile, for no man
could record the positions of all the points of light from one night to
another. The only way to conduct a systematic search was through
an enduring record, that is by taking photographs of the probable
sections of the sky, and comparing two of the same section taken a
few days apart to discover a point of light that had changed its place
46. 197
—no simple matter when more than one hundred thousand stars
showed upon a single plate. This process Percival tried, but although
his hopes were often raised by finding bodies that moved, they
proved to be asteroids hitherto unknown,
[47]
and the X sought so
long did not appear.
[48]
Percival had felt the need of a new photographic telescope of
considerable light power and a wider field, and an attempt was
made to borrow such an instrument, for use while one was being
manufactured, but in vain. Then came the war when optical glass for
large lenses could not be obtained, and before it was over Percival
had died. After his death Guy Lowell, the trustee, took up the
project, but also died too soon to carry it out. At last in 1929 the
lens needed was obtained, the instrument completed in the
workshop of the Observatory, and the search renewed in March with
much better prospects. Photographs of section after section of the
region where X was expected to be were taken and examined by a
Blink comparator. This is a device whereby two photographs of
slightly different dates could be seen through a microscope at
the same time as if superposed. But with all the improvement
in apparatus months of labor revealed nothing.
After nearly a year of photographing, and comparing plates, Mr.
Clyde W. Tombaugh, a young man brought up on a farm but with a
natural love of astronomy, was working in this search at Flagstaff,
when he suddenly found, on two plates taken January 23 and 29,
1930, a body that had moved in a way to indicate, not an asteroid,
but something vastly farther off. It was followed, and appeared night
after night in the path expected for X at about the distance from the
sun Percival had predicted. Before giving out any information it was
watched for seven weeks, until there could be no doubt from its
movements that it was a planet far beyond Neptune, and was
following very closely the track which his calculations had foretold.
Then, on his birthday, March 13, the news was given to the world.
47. 198
Recalling Percival’s own statement: “Owing to the inexactitude of our
data, then, we cannot regard our results with the complacency of
completeness we should like,” one inquires eagerly how nearly the
actual elements in the orbit of the newly found planet agree with
those he calculated. To this an answer was given by Professor Henry
Norris Russell of Princeton, the leading astronomer in this country, in
an article in the Scientific American for December, 1930. He wrote as
follows:
“The orbit, now that we know it, is found to be so similar to that
which Lowell predicted from his calculations fifteen years ago that it
is quite incredible that the agreement can be due to accident.
Setting prediction and fact side by side we have the following table
of characteristics:
Predicted Actual
Period 282 years 249.17
Eccentricity 0.202 0.254
Longitude of perihelion 205° 202° 30′
Perihelion passage 1991.2 1989.16
Inclination about 10° 17° 9′
Longitude of node not predicted 109° 22′
“Lowell saw in advance that the perturbations of the latitudes of
Uranus and Neptune (from which alone the position of the orbit
plane of the unknown planet could be calculated) were too small to
give a reliable result and contented himself with the prophecy that
the inclination, like the eccentricity, would be considerable. For the
other four independent elements of the orbit, which are those that
Lowell actually undertook to determine by his calculations, the
agreement is good in all cases, the greatest discrepancy being in the
period, which is notoriously difficult to determine by computations of
this sort. In view of Lowell’s explicit statement that since the
48. 199
perturbations were small the resulting elements of the orbit could at
best be rather rough approximations, the actual accordance is all
that could be demanded by a severe critic.
“Even so, the table does not tell the whole story. Figure 1
[49]
shows
the actual and the predicted orbits, the real positions of the planet at
intervals from 1781 to 1989, and the positions resulting from
Lowell’s calculations. It appears at once that the predicted positions
of the orbit and of the planet upon it were nearest right during the
19th century and the early part of the 20th, while at earlier
and later dates the error rapidly increased. Now this
(speaking broadly) is just the interval covered by the observations
from which the influence of the planet’s attraction could be
determined and, therefore, the interval in which calculation could
find the position of the planet itself with the least uncertainty.
49. 200
Predicted and Actual Orbits of PLUTO
“In the writer’s judgment this test is conclusive.”
[50]
Later observations, and computations of the orbit of Pluto, do
not vary very much from those that Professor Russell had
when he wrote. Two of the most typical—giving more elements—are
as follows:
Predicted Nicholson and
Mayall
F. Zagar
Period 282 years 249.2 248.9
Eccentricity 0.202 0.2461 0.2472
50. 201
Longitude of
perihelion
204.9 222° 23′ 20″ .17 222° 29′ 39″
.4
Perihelion passage 1991.2 1889.75 1888.4
Inclination about
10°
17° 6′ 58″ .4 17° 6′ 50″ .8
Semi-major axis 43. 39.60 39.58
Perihelion distance 34.31 29.86 29.80
Aphelion distance 51.69 49.35 49.36
Except for the eccentricity, and the inclination which he declared it
impossible to calculate, these results have proved as near as, with
the uncertainty of his data, he could have expected; and in regard to
the position of the planet in its orbit it will be recalled that he found
two solutions on opposite sides, both of which would account almost
wholly for the residuals of Uranus. The one that came nearest to
doing so he had regarded as the least probable because it placed
the planet in a part of the sky that had been much searched without
finding it; but it was there that Pluto appeared—a striking proof of
his rigorous analytic method.
But the question of its mass has raised serious doubts whether Pluto
can have caused the perturbations of Uranus from which he
predicted its presence, for if it has no significant mass the whole
basis of the calculation falls to the ground, and there has been found
a body travelling, by a marvellous coincidence, in such an
orbit that, if large enough, it would produce the perturbations
but does not do so.
[51]
Now as there is no visible satellite to gauge
its attraction, and as it will be long before Pluto in its eccentric orbit
approaches Neptune or Uranus closely enough to measure
accurately by that means, the mass cannot yet be determined with
certainty. What is needed are measures of position of the highest
possible accuracy of Neptune and Uranus, long continued and
homogeneous.
51. 202
The reasons for the doubt about adequate mass are two.
[52]
One
that with the largest telescopes it shows no visible disk, and must
therefore be very small in size, and hence in mass unless its density
is much greater, or its albedo far less, than those of any other known
planet. The other substantially that the orbits of Uranus and
Neptune can be, and are more naturally, explained by assuming
appropriate elements therefor, without the intervention of Pluto’s
disturbing force. This is precisely what Percival stated in discussing
the correctness of the residuals—that it was always possible to
account for the motions of a planet, whose normal orbit about the
sun is not definitely ascertained, by throwing any observed
divergencies either on errors in the supposed orbit, or upon
perturbations by an unknown body.
The conditions here are quite unlike those at the discovery of
Neptune, for there the existence of the perturbations was
clear, because fairly large, and the orbit predicted was wrong
because of an error in the distance assumed; and the question was
whether the presence of Neptune in the direction predicted, though
in a different orbit, was an accident, or inevitable. Here the predicted
orbit is substantially the actual one, adequate to account for the
perturbations of Uranus if such really exist, and the question is
whether they do or not. If not the discovery of Pluto is a mere
unexplained coincidence which has no connection with the
prediction. Whether among recognized uncertainties it is more
rational to suppose a very high density, and very low albedo, with
corresponding perturbations of Uranus and Neptune, whose orbits
are still imperfectly known, or to conclude that a planet, which would
account for these things if dense enough, revolves in fact in the
appropriate path, a mere ghost of itself—a phantom but not a force
—one who is not an astronomer must leave to the professionals.
52. 203
In the case of both Neptune and Pluto the calculation was certainly a
marvellous mathematical feat, and in accord with the usual practice
whereby the discoverer of a new celestial body is entitled to propose
its name the observers at Flagstaff selected from many suggestions
that of “Pluto” with the symbol ; and henceforth astronomers will
be reminded of Percival Lowell, by the planet he found but never
saw.
53. APPENDIX I
Professor Henry Norris Russell’s later views on the size of Pluto
(written to the Biographer and printed with the writer’s consent).
Later investigations have revealed a very curious situation. When
once the elements of Pluto’s orbit are known, the calculation of the
perturbations which it produces on another planet, such as Neptune,
are greatly simplified. But the problem of finding Pluto’s mass from
observations of Neptune is still none too easy, for the perturbations
affect the calculated values of the elements of Neptune’s orbit, and
are thus “entangled” with them in an intricate fashion.
Nicholson and Mayall, in 1930, attacked the problem, and found that
the perturbations of Neptune by Pluto, throughout the interval from
its discovery to the present, were almost exactly similar to the
effects which would have been produced by certain small changes in
the elements of Neptune’s orbit, so that, from these observations
alone, it would have been quite impossible to detect Pluto’s
influence. Outside this interval of time, the effects of the
perturbations steadily diverge from those of the spurious changes in
the orbit, but we cannot go into the future to observe them, and all
we have in the past is two rather inaccurate observations made in
1795 by Lalande.
[53]
If the average of these two discordant
observations is taken as it stands, Pluto’s mass comes out 0.9 times
that of the Earth, and this determination is entitled to very little
weight.
Uranus is farther from Pluto, and its perturbations are smaller; but it
has been accurately observed over one and a half revolutions, as
against half a revolution for Neptune, and this greatly favors the
54. 204
separation of the perturbations from changes in the assumed orbital
elements. Professor E. W. Brown—the most distinguished living
student of the subject—concludes from a careful investigation
that the observations of Uranus show that Pluto’s mass
cannot exceed one-half of the Earth’s and may be much less. In his
latest work a great part of the complication is removed by a
curiously simple device. Take the sum of the residuals of Uranus at
any two dates separated by one-third of its period, and subtract
from this the residual at the middle date. Brown proves—very simply
—that the troublesome effect of uncertainties in the eccentricity and
perihelion of the disturbed planet will be completely removed from
the resulting series of numbers, leaving the perturbations much
easier to detect. The curve which expresses their effects, though
changed in shape, can easily be calculated. Applying this method to
the longitude of Uranus, he finds, beside the casual errors of
observation, certain deviations; but these change far more rapidly
than perturbations due to Pluto could possibly do, and presumably
arise from small errors in calculating the perturbations produced by
Neptune. When these are accurately re-calculated, a minute effect of
Pluto’s attraction may perhaps be revealed, but Brown concludes
that “another century of accurate observations appears to be
necessary for a determination which shall have a probable error less
than a quarter of the Earth’s mass.”
The conclusion that Pluto’s mass is small is confirmed by its
brightness. Its visual magnitude is 14.9—just equal to that which
Neptune’s satellite Triton would have if brought to the same
distance. (Since Pluto’s perihelion distance is less than that of
Neptune, this experiment is one which Nature actually performs at
times.) Now Nicholson’s observations show that the mass of Triton is
between 0.06 and 0.09 times the Earth’s. It is highly probable that
Pluto’s mass is about the same—in which case the perturbations
which it produces, even on Neptune, will be barely perceptible, so
long as observations have their present degree of accuracy.
55. 205
The value of seven times the Earth’s mass, derived in Percival
Lowell’s earlier calculations, must have been influenced by some
error. His mathematical methods were completely sound—on
Professor Brown’s excellent authority—and the orbit of Planet X
which he computed resembled so closely that of the actual Pluto
that no serious discordance could arise from the difference. But, in
this case also, the result obtained for the mass of the perturbing
planet depended essentially on the few early observations of
Uranus as a star, made before its discovery as a planet, and
long before the introduction of modern methods of precise
observation. Errors in these are solely responsible for the inaccuracy
in the results of the analytical solution.
The question arises, if Percival Lowell’s results were vitiated in this
way by errors made by others more than a century before his birth,
why is there an actual planet moving in an orbit which is so
uncannily like the one he predicted?
There seems no escape from the conclusion that this is a matter of
chance. That so close a set of chance coincidences should occur is
almost incredible; but the evidence assembled by Brown permits of
no other conclusion. Other equally remarkable coincidences have
occurred in scientific experience. A cipher cable-gram transmitting to
the Lick Observatory the place of a comet discovered in Europe was
garbled in transmission, and when decoded gave an erroneous
position in the heavens. Close to this position that evening another
undiscovered comet was found. More recently a slight discrepancy
between determinations of the atomic weight of hydrogen by the
mass-spectrograph and by chemical means led to a successful
search for a heavy isotype of hydrogen. Later and more precise work
with the mass-spectrograph showed that the discrepancy had at first
been much over-estimated. Had this error not been made, heavy
hydrogen might not yet have been discovered.
Like this later error, the inaccuracy in the ancient observations,
which led to an over-estimate of the mass and brightness of Pluto,
56. 206
was a fortunate one for science.
In any event, the initial credit for the discovery of Pluto justly
belongs to Percival Lowell. His analytical methods were sound; his
profound enthusiasm stimulated the search, and, even after his
death, was the inspiration of the campaign which resulted in its
discovery at the Observatory which he had founded.
57. APPENDIX II
THE LOWELL OBSERVATORY
by Professor Henry Norris Russell
The Observatory at Flagstaff is Percival Lowell’s creation. The
material support which he gave it, both during his lifetime and by
endowment, represents but a small part of his connection with it. He
chose the site, which in its combination of excellent observing
conditions and the amenities of everyday life, is still unsurpassed. He
selected the permanent members of the staff and provided for the
successor to the Directorship after his death. Last, but not least, he
inspired a tradition of intense interest in the problems of the
universe, and independent and original thought in attacking them,
which survives unimpaired.
On a numerical basis—whether in number of staff, size of
instruments, or annual budget—the Lowell Observatory takes a fairly
modest rank in comparison with some great American foundations.
But throughout its history it has produced a long and brilliant series
of important discoveries and observations notable especially for
originality of conception and technical skill. Percival Lowell’s own
work has been fully described; it remains to summarize briefly that
of the men whom he chose as his colleagues, presenting it according
to its subject, rather than in chronological order.
The photography of the planets has been pursued for thirty years,
mainly by the assiduous work of E. C. Slipher, and the resulting
collections are unrivalled. Only a small amount of this store has been
published or described in print, but among its successes may be
noted the first photographs of the canals of Mars, and the
58. 207
demonstration by this impersonal method of the seasonal changes in
the dark areas, and of the occasional appearance of clouds.
It is a commonplace that any astronomer who wants
photographs of the planets for any illustrative purpose instinctively
applies to his friends in Flagstaff, and is not likely to be disappointed.
The discovery of Pluto, and incidentally of many hundreds of
asteroids, has already been described.
An important series of measurements of the radiation from the
planets was made at Flagstaff in 1921 and 1922 by Dr. W. W.
Coblentz of the Bureau of Standards and Dr. C. O. Lampland. Using
the 40-inch reflector, and the vacuum thermocouples which the
former had developed, and employed in measurements of stellar
radiation at the Lick Observatory, and working with and without a
water-cell (which transmits most of the heat carried by the sunlight
reflected from a planet, but stops practically all of that radiated from
its own surface), they found that the true “planetary heat” from
Jupiter was so small that its surface must be very cold, probably
below -100° Centigrade, while that from Mars was considerable,
indicating a relatively high temperature. Both conclusions have been
fully confirmed by later work.
Spectroscopic observation has been equally successful. In 1912
Lowell and Slipher (V. M.) successfully attacked the difficult problem
of the rotation of Uranus. One side of a rotating planet is
approaching us, the other receding. If its image is thrown on a
spectroscope, so that its equatorial regions fall upon the slit, the
lines of the spectrum will be shifted toward the violet on one edge,
and the red on the other, and will cross it at a slant instead of at
right angles. This method had long before been applied to Jupiter
and to Saturn and its rings, but Uranus is so faint as to discourage
previous observation. Nevertheless, with the 24-inch reflector, and a
single-prism spectrograph, seven satisfactory plates were obtained,
with an average exposure of 2½ hours, every one of which showed
a definite rotation effect. The mean result indicated that Uranus
59. 208
rotates in 10¾ hours, with motion retrograde, as in the case of his
satellites. This result was confirmed five years latter by Leon
Campbell at Harvard, who observed regular variations in the planet’s
brightness with substantially the same period.
It has been known since the early days of the spectroscope that the
major planets exhibit in their spectra bands produced by
absorption by the gases of their atmospheres, and that these
bands are strongest in the outer planets. Photographs showing this
were first made by V. M. Slipher at the Lowell Observatory in 1902.
To get adequate spectrograms of Neptune required exposures of 14
and 21 hours—occupying the available parts of the clear nights of a
week. The results well repaid the effort. The bands which appear
faintly in Jupiter are very strong in Uranus, and enormous in
Neptune’s spectrum, cutting out great portions of the red and
yellow, and accounting for the well-known greenish color of the
planet. Only one band in the red was present in Jupiter alone.
For a quarter of a century after this discovery those bands remained
one of the most perplexing riddles of astrophysics. The conviction
gradually grew that they must be due to some familiar gases, but
the first hint of their origin was obtained by Wildt in 1932, who
showed that one band in Jupiter was produced by ammonia gas, and
another probably by methane. These conclusions were confirmed by
Dunham in the following year, but the general solution of the
problem was reserved for Slipher and Adel, who, in 1934, announced
that the whole series of unidentified bands were due to methane.
The reason why they had not been identified sooner is that it
requires an enormous thickness of gas to produce them. A tube 45
meters long, containing methane at 40 atmospheres pressure,
produces bands comparable to those in the spectra of Saturn. The
far heavier bands in Neptune indicate an atmosphere equivalent to a
layer 25 miles thick at standard atmospheric pressure. The fainter
bands though not yet observed in the laboratory, have been
conclusively identified by the theory of band-spectra. Ammonia
shows only in Jupiter and faintly in Saturn; the gas is doubtless
60. 209
liquefied or solidified at the very low temperatures of the outer
planets.
The earth’s own atmosphere has also been the subject of discovery
at Flagstaff. The light of a clear moonless sky does not come entirely
from the stars and planets; about one-third of it originates in the
upper air, and shows a spectrum of bright lines and bands. The
familiar auroral line is the most conspicuous of these, but V. M.
Slipher, making long exposures with instruments of remarkably great
light-gathering power, has recently detected a large number of other
bands, in the deep red and even the infra-red. Were our eyes
strongly sensitive to these wave-lengths, the midnight skies
would appear ruddy.
Just as the first rays of the rising sun strike the upper layers of the
atmosphere many miles above the surface, new emission bands
appear in the spectrum—to be drowned out soon afterwards by the
twilight reflected from the lower and denser layers; and the reverse
process is observable after sunset.
The origin of these remarkable and wholly unexpected radiations is
not yet determined.
The spectrograph of the Observatory was also employed in
observations of stars, and again led to unexpected discoveries. In
1908, while observing the spectroscopic binary Beta Scorpii, V. M.
Slipher found that the K line of calcium was sharp on his plates,
while all the others were broad and diffuse. Moreover, while the
broad lines shifted in position as the bright star moved in its orbit,
the narrow line remained stationery. Hartmann, in 1904, had
observed a similar line in the spectra of Delta Orionis, and suggested
that it was absorbed in a cloud of gas somewhere between the sun
and the star. Slipher, extending his observations to other parts of the
heavens, found that such stationery calcium lines were very
generally present (in spectra of such types that they were not
masked by heavier lines arising in the stars themselves), and made
61. Welcome to our website – the perfect destination for book lovers and
knowledge seekers. We believe that every book holds a new world,
offering opportunities for learning, discovery, and personal growth.
That’s why we are dedicated to bringing you a diverse collection of
books, ranging from classic literature and specialized publications to
self-development guides and children's books.
More than just a book-buying platform, we strive to be a bridge
connecting you with timeless cultural and intellectual values. With an
elegant, user-friendly interface and a smart search system, you can
quickly find the books that best suit your interests. Additionally,
our special promotions and home delivery services help you save time
and fully enjoy the joy of reading.
Join us on a journey of knowledge exploration, passion nurturing, and
personal growth every day!
ebookmasss.com