Star-Traps

Star-Traps

It is yet fresh in public recollection that M. Leverrier announced for production on a certain night in October last a transit of the new planet Vulcan across the sun ; and that for causes which have not yet been explained the management failed to keep its promise, thus shamefully insulting all lovers of astronomy. Ever since that date there has been an active discussion among astronomers as to the existence of Vulcan, some firmly believing Vulcan to be a regular professional planet, although he failed to make a transit at the proper time ; and others insisting that there is no such planet as Vulcan, and that he was wickedly invented by M. Leverrier for occult and ulterior purposes. Amateur astronomers, however, profess to have recently seen Vulcan to a prodigal extent, and every few days some enthusiastic rural person who is in the habit of studying the celestial heavens and his neighbor's back-windows through an opera-glass writes a letter to his favorite newspaper, pretending that he has actually seen Vulcan, when, in all probability he has seen nothing more remarkable than a bald-headed old gentleman in the act of drawing down his bedroom curtains.

Now, the failure of the promised transit of Vulcan, the doubts as to his existence, and the reckless astronomical observations of inquisitive amateurs, are matters of comparatively little importance. There is, however, one very grave consequence which has resulted from M. Leverrier's broken promise, and which illustrates the malign and farreaching influence of a single dishonest and mendacious act. Heretofore the astronomer has pursued his celestial game with as much spirit and boldness as though he were Boötes himself, with his eager hunting-dogs "in their leash of sidereal fire." The men who have the greatest distinction as star-hunters have swept the heavens, telescope in hand, and have depended for success upon their steady aim, the excellence of their weapons, and their familiarity with the habits and lurking-places of timid planets. When such men captured a new star, it was a fact of which they had a right to be proud. When Prof. Peters, after a long night's sport, returned to his home, and sat down to the breakfast-table in his astronomical clothes, and the glow of healthful excitement on his cheek, he would modestly answer the inquiry of Mrs. Peters, "What luck, my dear?" with the cheerful reply : "Three asteroids, two Neptunian satellites, and a fine large nebula." It is no wonder that even the servants admired the skill and prowess of so successful a sportsman ; and if at times men like Prof. Peters and his comrades seemed to forget, in their passion for star-hunting, the more prosaic duties of astronomy, we can easily pardon them. Their methods were those of true, chivalrous sportsmen, and they would have disdained to snare a planet by the tricky means employed by Leverrier and Adams for the capture of Neptune, as much as they would to have hunted asteriods out of season, or to have wasted their time with shooting stars and such like sidereal vermin.

But now we are told that a soulless, pot-hunting person, who pretends to call himself an astronomer, has been led, by his desire to settle the question of Vulcan's existence, to invent a planet-trap, which, if it should come into general use, would speedily capture every star not yet in the catalogue. The new trap consists of a photographic camera, provided with clock-work and other devilish devices. This is set at night-fall in some secluded spot, and left to accomplish its infamous and unsportsmanlike purpose. A timid asteroid notices the light reflected from the trap, and thoughtlessly peeps into the camera. ' Instantaneously its likeness is taken, the negative glides from its place, a fresh plate advances into position, and the trap is again ready for action. The inventor intends to bait this trap especially with reference to the capture of Vulcan ; but he asserts that after leaving it set for a single night, he will find in the morning photographs of every star which has ventured near it during the night.

There is, unfortunately, no reason to doubt that the trap will do all that its inventor claims. It will prove a species of sidereal pound-net which will capture indiscriminately everything which comes in its way. The full-grown planet, the feeble asteroid, the fierce comet, the worthless ærolite, and the valuable fixed star will be photographed with equal promptitude and certainty. It is true that the midnight mosquito and the wandering cat will occasionally intrude into the camera, and be mistaken for curious nebulæ or exceptionally brilliant comets, but though the pot-hunting astronomer may thus be made ridiculous in the eyes of discriminating men, he will nevertheless continue to gather in his miscellaneous game, and thus render the efforts of the legitimate sportsman utterly fruitless.

Of course, there are hundreds of incompetent astronomers --- men who cannot hit a full moon with the best telescope in existence --- who will eagerly provide themselves with traps, and fancy that they are the worthy rivals of Peters and Olbers. We know how the analogous practice of pound-net fishing has exterminated the game fish of our rivers, and driven the fly-fisher to the remote regions of Maine and Canada. A like result will follow the introduction of star-trapping, and the ardent sportsman will have to carry his telescope to China or Australia, if he hopes to have any legitimate sport. The only remedy is to fight trap-hunters at once, and before it is too late. If Prof. Peters wishes to uphold the dignity of telescopic hunting, let him petition the legislature for the appointment of an astronomical commission, with power to prevent the introduction of star-traps, and preserve the celestial game from extermination. If this is not done, star-traps will be set on the roof of every house, and the time will soon come when Prof. Peters will be compelled to lay aside his rusty telescope, and mourn over the total extermination of the game that he now so gallantly pursues.