Wonders of the Universe. Andrew Cohen

      In one corner sat eminent names such as Euclid, Kepler and Descartes, who all sided with Aristotle in believing that light travelled infinitely fast. In the other, Empedocles and Galileo, separated by almost two millennia, felt that light must travel at a finite, if extremely high, velocity. Empedocles’s reasoning was elegant, pre-dating Aristotle by a century. He considered light travelling across the vast distance from the Sun to Earth, and noted that everything that travels must move from one point to another. In other words, the light must be somewhere in the space between the Sun and the Earth after it leaves the Sun and before it reaches the Earth. This means it must travel with a finite velocity. Aristotle dismissed this argument by invoking his idea that light is simply a presence, not something that moves between things. Without experimental evidence, it is impossible to decide between these positions simply by thinking about it!

      Galileo set out to measure the speed of light using two lamps. He held one and sent an assistant a large distance away with another. When they were in position, Galileo opened a shutter on his lamp, letting the light out. When his assistant saw the flash, he opened his shutter, and Galileo attempted to note down the time delay between the opening of his shutter and his observation of the flash from his assistant’s lamp. His conclusion was that light must travel extremely rapidly, because he was unable to determine its speed. Galileo was, however, able to put a ‘limit’ on the speed of light, noting that it must be at least ten times faster than the speed of sound. He was able to do this because if it had been slower, he should have been able to measure a time delay. So, the inability to measure the speed of light was not deemed a ‘no result’, but in fact revealed that light travels faster than his experiment could quantify.

      The question, how fast is the speed of light, has plagued scientists for thousands of years. Part of the answer came from observing how light travels between points: from the Sun to Earth.

      The first experimental determination that the speed of light was not infinite was made by the seventeenth-century Danish astronomer, Ole Romer. In 1676, Romer was attempting to solve one of the great scientific and engineering challenges of the age; telling the time at sea. Finding an accurate clock was essential to enable sailors to navigate safely across the oceans, but mechanical clocks based on pendulums or springs were not good at being bounced around on the ocean waves and soon drifted out of sync. In order to pinpoint your position on Earth you need the latitude and longitude. Latitude is easy; in the Northern Hemisphere, the angle of the North Star (Polaris) above the horizon is your latitude. In the Southern Hemisphere, things are more complicated because there is no star directly over the South Pole, but it is still possible with a little astronomical know-how and trigonometry to determine your latitude with sufficient accuracy for safe navigation.

      Longitude is far more difficult because you can’t just determine it by looking at the stars; you have to know which time zone you are in. Greenwich in London is defined as zero degrees longitude; as you travel west from Greenwich across the Atlantic, your time zone shifts so that in New York it’s earlier in the day than in London. Conversely, as you travel east from Greenwich your time zone shifts so that in Moscow or Tokyo it’s later in the day than in London.

      Your precise time zone at any point on Earth’s surface is defined by the point at which the Sun crosses an imaginary arc across the sky between the north and south points on your horizon, passing through the celestial pole (the point marked by the North Star in the Northern Hemisphere). Astronomers call this arc the Meridian. The point at which the Sun crosses the Meridian is also the point at which it reaches its highest position in the sky on any given day as it journeys from sunrise in the east to sunset in the west. We call this time noon, or midday. Earth rotates once on its axis every twenty-four hours – fifteen degrees every hour. This means two points on Earth’s surface that are separated by fifteen degrees of longitude will measure noon exactly one hour apart. So to determine your longitude, set a clock to read 12 o’clock when the Sun reaches the highest point in the sky at Greenwich. If it reads 2pm when the Sun reaches its highest point in the sky where you are, you are thirty degrees to the west of Greenwich. Easy, except that you need a very accurate clock that keeps time for weeks or months on end

      These spectacular star trails are produced in the sky as a result of diurnal motion. This is the motion created as Earth spins on its axis at fifteen degrees per hour, rotating once over twenty-four hours.

       © Scott Smith/Corbis

THE SEARCH FOR A COSMIC CLOCK

      In the early seventeenth century, King Philip III of Spain offered a prize to anyone who could devise a method for precisely calculating longitude when out of sight of land. The technological challenge of building sufficiently accurate clocks was too great, so scientists began to look for high-precision natural clocks, and it seemed sensible to look to the heavens. Galileo, having discovered the moons of Jupiter, was convinced he could use the orbits of these moons as a clock, as they regularly passed in and out of the shadow of the giant planet. The principle is beautifully simple; Jupiter has four bright moons that can be seen relatively easily from Earth, and the innermost moon, Io, goes around the planet every 1.769 days, precisely. One might say that Io’s orbit is as regular as clockwork, therefore by watching for its daily disappearance and re-emergence from behind Jupiter’s disc you have a very accurate and unchanging natural clock. Thus by using the Jovian system as a cosmic clock, Galileo devised an accurate system for keeping time. Observing the eclipses of these tiny pinpoints of light around three-quarters of a billion kilometres (half a billion miles) from Earth from a rolling ship was impractical, however, so although the logic was sound, Galileo failed to win the King’s prize. Despite this, it was clear this technique could be used to measure longitude accurately on land, where stable conditions and high-quality telescopes were available. Thus observing and cataloguing the eclipses of Jupiter’s moons, particularly Io, became a valuable astronomical endeavour.

      By the mid-seventeenth century, Giovanni Cassini was leading the study of Jupiter’s moons. He pioneered the use of Io’s eclipses for the measurement of longitude and published tables detailing on what dates the eclipses should be visible from many locations on Earth, together with high-precision predictions of the times. In the process of further refining his longitude tables, he sent one of his astronomers, Jean Picard, to the Uraniborg Observatory near Copenhagen, where Picard employed the help of a young Danish astronomer, Ole Romer. Over some months in 1671, Romer and Picard observed over one hundred of Io’s eclipses, noting the times and intervals between each. He was quickly invited to work as Cassini’s assistant at the Royal Observatory, where Romer made a crucial discovery. Combining the data from Uraniborg with Cassini’s Paris observations, Romer noticed that the celestial precision of the Jovian clock wasn’t as accurate as everyone had thought. Over the course of several months, the prediction for when Io would emerge from behind Jupiter drifted. At some times of the year there was a significant discrepancy of over twenty-two minutes between the predicted and the actual observed timings of the eclipses. This appeared to ruin the use of Io as a clock and end the idea of using it to calculate longitude. However, Romer came up with an ingenious and correct explanation of what was happening.

      These sketches (published in Istoria e Dimonstrazione in 1613) show the changing position of the moons of Jupiter over 12 days. Jupiter is represented by the large circle, with the four moons as dots on either side.

      Ole Romer’s recorded observations show his detailed research into the movement of Io.

      Jupiter appears spotty in this false-colour picture from the Hubble Space Telescope’s near-infrared camera. The three black spots are the shadows of the moons Ganymede (top left),