To save content items to your account,
please confirm that you agree to abide by our usage policies.
If this is the first time you use this feature, you will be asked to authorise Cambridge Core to connect with your account.
Find out more about saving content to .
To save content items to your Kindle, first ensure no-reply@cambridge.org
is added to your Approved Personal Document E-mail List under your Personal Document Settings
on the Manage Your Content and Devices page of your Amazon account. Then enter the ‘name’ part
of your Kindle email address below.
Find out more about saving to your Kindle.
Note you can select to save to either the @free.kindle.com or @kindle.com variations.
‘@free.kindle.com’ emails are free but can only be saved to your device when it is connected to wi-fi.
‘@kindle.com’ emails can be delivered even when you are not connected to wi-fi, but note that service fees apply.
In the year 1826, Heinrich Schwabe of Dessau, elated with the hope of speedily delivering himself from his hereditary incubus of an apothecary's shop, obtained from Munich a small telescope and began to observe the sun. His choice of an object for his researches was instigated by his friend Harding of Göttingen. It was a peculiarly happy one. The changes visible in the solar surface were then generally regarded as no less capricious than the changes in the skies of our temperate regions. Consequently, the reckoning and registering of sun-spots was a task hardly more inviting to an astronomer than the reckoning and registering of summer clouds. Cassini, Keill, Lemonnier, Lalande, were unanimous in declaring that no trace of regularity could be detected in their appearances or effacements. Delambre pronounced them “more curious than really useful.” Even Herschel, profoundly as he studied them, and intimately as he was convinced of their importance as symptoms of solar activity, saw no reason to suspect that their abundance and scarcity were subject to orderly alternation. One man alone in the eighteenth century, Christian Horrebow of Copenhagen, divined their periodical character, and foresaw the time when the effects of the sun's vicissitudes upon the globes revolving round him might be investigated with success; but this prophetic utterance was of the nature of a soliloquy rather than of a communication, and remained hidden away in an unpublished journal until 1859, when it was brought to light in a general ransacking of archives.
On the 2d of June 1858, Giambattista Donati discovered at Florence a feeble round nebulosity in the constellation Leo, about one-tenth the diameter of the full moon. It proved to be a comet approaching the sun. But it changed little in apparent place or brightness for some weeks. The gradual development of a central condensation of light was the first symptom of coming splendour. At Harvard, in the middle of July, a strong stellar nucleus was seen; on August 14 a tail began to be thrown out. As the comet wanted still over six weeks of the time of its perihelion-passage, it was obvious that great things might be expected of it. They did not fail of realisation.
Not before the early days of September was it generally recognised with the naked eye, though it had been detected without a glass at Pulkowa, August 19. But its growth was thenceforward a surprisingly rapid one, as it swept with accelerated motion under the hindmost foot of the Great Bear, and past the starry locks of Berenice. A sudden leap upward in lustre was noticed on September 12, when the nucleus shone with about the brightness of the pole-star, and the tail, notwithstanding large fore-shortening, could be traced with the lowest telescopic power over six degrees of the sphere. The appendage, however, attained its full development only after perihelion, September 30, by which time, too, it lay nearly square to the line of sight from the earth.