100 days till the transit of Venus…

Venus

…and she’s already looking amazing, here to the bottom right of the Moon. Jupiter is just visible in the top left of the picture, taken by yours truly over London about an hour ago.

In case you haven’t looked in the night sky this weekend, get outside right now. What you can see, through the naked eye, is what astronomers call a triple conjunction.

Yesterday and today, the Moon, Venus, and Jupiter have been putting on a dazzling celestial display, coming together in a tight triangle.

Venus, because it is closer to the Sun than Earth, never strays far from the Sun in our sky. Jupiter, being outside the Earth’s orbit, can appear anywhere along the ecliptic – the path of the Sun, Moon, and planets across the sky.

Right now, Venus and Jupiter are gradually growing closer. They’re currently about ten degrees apart. On March 13, they will be only three degrees separating them as they pass one another.

The Moon, meanwhile, is making its monthly trip around the Earth and is passing the two planets this weekend. Last night, it appeared close to Venus, tonight it is nearer to Jupiter.

Today’s triple conjunction takes place 100 days before Venus passes in front of the Sun, an even rarer celestial event that won’t happen again until 2117.

Some of the above via Space.com. There’s an illustrated guide to the Moon-Venus-Jupiter conjunction here and a Nasa video about it here.

Aphrodite’s Island

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When French explorer Louis-Antoine de Bougainville landed at Tahiti in 1768, he immediately named the island ‘La Nouvelle Cythère’ (New Cytheria) after the birthplace of Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love.


The origin of Aphrodite’s name is unknown but according to the poet Hesiod it derived from ‘aphros’ – Greek for ‘foam’ – suggesting her full name meant “risen from foam”. Aphrodite’s Roman equivalent was the goddess Venus.


In the most famous version of her myth, Aphrodite floated ashore on a scallop shell, as depicted in Sandro Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus.


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Bougainville’s account of Tahiti portrayed it as a place full of beautiful women, who were free and easy with their sexual favours. The publication in 1771 of his memoirs, Voyage Autour du Monde, followed by the English translation, A Voyage Around the World, in 1772, provided European men with an vision of earthly paradise.


One passage tells of how the Tahitians sent women out to meet the French ships:


“A young girl came on board and placed herself upon the quarterdeck near one of the hatchways, which was open in order to give air to those who were heaving at the capstan below it. The girl carelessly dropped a cloth, which covered her, and appeared to the eyes of all beholder, such as Venus showed herself to the Phrygian Shepherd, having, indeed, the celestial form of that goddess,” Bougainville wrote.


Paintings, such as William Hodges’ 1776 landscape Oaitepeha Bay (above, top), replete with naked women lounging around by the water’s edge, also helped fuel the image of Tahiti as “the truest picture of an Arcadia,” as the naturalist Joseph Banks would later describe it on his arrival in 1769.


Some of the above via Miriam Kahn’s Tahiti Beyond the Postcard.


Taxing times for taxonomy

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In Darwin’s day, biologists travelled the world to identify and classify plants and animals. They collected specimens and named them, grouping them in related categories to show how life on Earth is organised.


But today, support for taxonomy – the system of species classification pioneered by 18th century ‘superstar’ biologist Carl Linnaeus – is dwindling.


The lack of funding isn’t just an esoteric problem for a few people in labs and university classrooms. It affects children (and likely their parents) as much as professional scientists.


Taxonomy “has suffered somewhat because we’re not taking kids out into the world, showing them the world,” says one present day biologist currently working on a project called Venus, designed to find new species on the ocean floor. “Children haven’t changed. The sense of wonder is no different in the modern child.”


But nature has to compete with TV and the internet, and structured play. The ramifications potentially run deep. In the words of another biologist: “It is unrealistic to expect people to care for the local environment if they are unaware of the organisms that live in it.”



The 300-year-old mystery of why Venus causes the ‘Black Drop Effect’

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We can see Venus pass in front of the sun once every one hundred and twenty years. Ever since it’s been observed, a strange thing has been happening. Instead of appearing as a dark circle moving across the sun, Venus formed a tear drop shape that slowly oozed onto the solar disc. It took three hundred years for scientists to understand the Black Drop Effect.

OMG! Opportunity of a lifetime!

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The Australian National Maritime Museum is offering 35 people the chance to sail aboard its replica of the ship Captain James Cook voyaged in to Tahiti in 1769 to observe the transit of Venus.


The ballot for a spot on the HMB Endeavour has already opened. Hopefuls have till 10 February to submit their applications and the winners will be chosen ten days later.


The ship departs Sydney on 31 May and drops anchor off Lord Howe Island on 5 June in time to see this year’s transit begin next day at 08.15 local time.


It really is the opportunity of a lifetime since the next Venus transit won’t happen again till December 2117. Also, it has to be said, Lord Howe Island really does look rather nice.


For more information and to apply click here. There’s also a nice write up here.


Charting Venus: a collection of transit maps

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One example from a beautiful collection of historical maps and diagrams of past transits of Venus, the majority of which come from the work of Victorian astronomer Richard A. Proctor. For the full series in high resolution click here.

Chasing Venus

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On 22 January 1761, the French astronomer Chappe d’Auteroche arrived in Warsaw. He was on his way to Tobolsk in Russia, to observe the transit of Venus on 6 June that year.


“Chappe’s diary entries from Warsaw show that he was not only an astronomer but also a connoisseur of women – describing in detail their dress and ‘undress’,” notes Andrea Wulf, in this latest extract from her upcoming book ‘Chasing Venus: The Race to Measure the Heavens.’


“No matter how difficult his voyages, he always found time to investigate women with the taxonomic precision of a scientist,” she writes. “No matter how cold or exhausted he was, he remained an expert of the female sex and remarked appreciatively on their sparking eyes, the ‘slenderness of their waists’, and ‘well-shaped servant maids’. The women in Warsaw, he declared, were beautiful and sociable but also ‘strictly virtuous’.”



Maskelyne and Banks

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As Astronomer Royal and president of the Royal Society respectively Nevil Maskelyne and Joseph Banks had a long and complex relationship, spanning more than forty years.


The two giants of late 18th century science were key members of the Board of Longitude and during the formative years of their friendship they were close, sometimes sharing smutty jokes in their letters to one another.

Read More

On this day in 1761

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On 17 January 1761, British astronomer Nevil Maskelyne set sail for St Helena - a lone speck of land in the Southern hemisphere from which he intended to observe the transit of Venus that was to take place on 6 June that year. via transitofvenus.nl

The unluckiest Frenchman ever?

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French astronomer Guillaume Le Gentil sailed from Paris in 1760 for Pondichéry (Puducherry) in India to observe the transit of Venus on June 6, 1761. On the way, he stopped off at Île de France (Mauritius) and learned of the war that had broken out with the English in the intervening months. They had colonized Pondichéry and so he changed his destination for the more easterly isle of Rodrigues.

But en route, the captain of the frigate he was travelling aboard became wary of the escalating crisis, and performed an about-face, heading back to Mauritius. Le Gentil was still at sea when the transit of Venus happened and due to the motion of the boat and lack of an accurate timepiece he was unable to carry out any meaningful measurements, despite perfect weather. The astronomer was too embarrassed to return home and resolved instead to remain on Île de France, using it as a base from which to scout the Indian Ocean for appropriate observation posts for the 1769 transit.              
 
After spending some time mapping the eastern coast of Madagascar, he decided to record the transit from Manila in the Philippines. Encountering hostility from the Spanish authorities there, however, he headed to Pondichéry, which had been restored to France in 1763. He arrived in March 1768 and built a small observatory where he waited patiently. At last, the day of the transit – June 4, 1769 – arrived, but although the mornings in the preceding month had all been clear, on this day the sky was overcast, and Le Gentil saw nothing. The misfortune drove him to the brink of insanity, but at last he recovered enough strength to return to France.

The return trip was first delayed by dysentery, and further when his ship was caught in a storm and dropped him off at Île Bourbon (Réunion), where he had to wait until a Spanish ship took him home. He finally arrived in Paris eleven years later in October 1771, only to find that he had been declared legally dead and been replaced in the Royal Academy of Sciences. His wife had remarried, and all his relatives had “enthusiastically plundered his estate”.                                                                             
But it wasn’t all misfortune for Le Gentil. He eventually got back his seat in the academy, remarried, and apparently lived happily for another 21 years. His story was also dramatized (with some artistic licence) in Transit of Venus, a 1992 play by Canadian playwright Maureen Hunter, pictured above.                                                                     
Via Wikipedia and Knol.