of
what he had seen. He explained how he had timed the passage of the black
spot. 'Where is your chronometer?' asked Leverrier. 'It is this watch,
the faithful companion of my professional journeys.' 'What! with that
old watch, showing only minutes, dare you talk of estimating seconds. My
suspicions are already too well confirmed.' 'Pardon me, I have a
pendulum which beats seconds.' 'Show it me.' The doctor brings down a
silk thread to which an ivory ball is attached. Fixing the upper end to
a nail, he draws the ball a little from the vertical, counts the number
of oscillations, and shows that his pendulum beats seconds; he explains
also how his profession, requiring him to feel pulses and count
pulsations, he has no difficulty in mentally keeping record of
successive seconds.

Having been shown the telescope with which the observation was made, the
record of the observation (on a piece of paper covered with grease and
laudanum, and doing service as a marker in the 'Connaissance des Temps,'
or French Nautical Almanac), Leverrier presently inquired if Lescarbault
had attempted to deduce the planet's distance from the sun from the
period of its transit. The doctor admitted that he had attempted this,
but, being no mathematician, had failed to achieve success with the
problem. He showed the rough draughts of his futile attempts at
calculation on a board in his workshop, 'for,' said he naively, 'I am a
joiner as well as an astronomer.'

The interview satisfied Leverrier that a new planet, travelling within
the orbit of Mercury, had really been discovered. 'With a grace and
dignity full of kindness,' says a contemporary narrative of these
events,[55] 'he congratulated Lescarbault on the important discovery
which he had made.' Anxious to obtain some mark of respect for the
discoverer of Vulcan, Leverrier made inquiry concerning his private
character, and learned from the village cure, the juge de paix, and
other functionaries, that he was a skilful physician and a worthy man.
With such high recommendations, M. Leverrier requested from M. Rouland,
the Minister of Public Instruction, the decoration of the Legion of
Honour for M. Lescarbault. The Minister, in a brief but interesting
statement of his claim, communicated this request to the Emperor, who,
by a decree dated January 25, conferred upon the village astronomer the
honours so justly due to him. His professional brethren in Paris were
equally solicitous to testify their