Part 12

For example, we have in this process the means of settling the question whether the apparent brightness of a star is indeed a test of relative nearness. According to accepted theories the sixth-magnitude stars are ten or twelve times as far off as those of the first magnitude. Hence their motions should, on the average, be correspondingly small. Now, to make assurance doubly sure, I divided the stars into two sets, the first including the stars of the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd, the second including those of the 4th, 5th, and 6th magnitude. According to accepted views, the average proper motion for the first set should be about five times as great as that for the second. I was prepared to find it about three times as great; that is, not so much greater as the accepted theories require, but still considerably greater. To my surprise, I found that the average proper motion of the brighter orders of stars is barely equal to that of the three lower orders.

This proves beyond all possibility of question that by far the greater number of the fainter orders of stars (I refer here throughout to lucid stars) owe their faintness not to vastness of distance, but to real relative minuteness.

To pass over a number of other modes of research, the actual mapping of the stellar motions, and the discovery of the peculiarity to which I have given the name of star-drift, remain to be considered.

In catalogues it is not easy to recognize any instances of community of motion which may exist among the stars, owing to the method in which the stars are arranged. What is wanted in this case (as in many others which yet remain to be dealt with) is the adoption of a plan by which such relations may be rendered obvious to the eye. The plan I adopted was to attach to each star in my maps a small arrow, indicating the amount and direction of that star’s apparent motion in 36,000 years (the time-interval being purposely lengthened, as otherwise most of the arrows would have been too small to be recognized). When this was done, several well-marked instances of community of motion could immediately be recognized.

It is necessary to premise, however, that before the experiment was tried, there were reasons for feeling very doubtful whether it would succeed. A system of stars might really be drifting athwart the heavens, and yet the drift might be rendered unrecognizable through the intermixture of more distant or nearer systems having motions of another sort and seen accidentally in the same general direction.

This was found to be the case, indeed, in several instances. Thus the stars in the constellation Ursa Major, and neighbouring stars in Draco, exhibit two well-marked directions of drift. The stars β, γ, δ, ε, and ζ of the Great Bear, besides two companions of the last-named star, are travelling in one direction, with equal velocity, and clearly form one system. The remaining stars in the neighbourhood are travelling in a direction almost exactly the reverse. But even this relation, thus recognized in a region of diverse motions, is full of interest. Baron Mädler, the well-known German astronomer, recognizing the community of motion between ζ Ursæ and its companions, calculated the cyclic revolution of the system to be certainly not less than 7000 years. But when the complete system of stars showing this motion is considered, we get a cyclic period so enormous, that not only the life of man, but the life of the human race, the existence of our earth, nay, even the existence of the solar system, must be regarded as a mere day in comparison with that tremendous cycle.

Then there are other instances of star-drift where, though two directions of motion are not intermixed, the drifting nature of the motion is not at once recognized, because of the various distances at which the associated stars lie from the eye.

A case of this kind is to be met with in the stars forming the constellation Taurus. It was here that Mädler recognized a community of motion among the stars, but he did not interpret this as I do. He had formed the idea that the whole of the sidereal system must be in motion around some central point; and for reasons which need not here be considered, he was led to believe that in whatever direction the centre of motion may lie, the stars seen in that general direction would exhibit a community of motion. Then, that he might not have to examine the proper motions all over the heavens, he inquired in what direction (in all probability) the centre of motion may be supposed to lie. Coming to the conclusion that it must lie towards Taurus, he examined the proper motions in that constellation, and found a community of motion which led him to regard Alcyone, the chief star of the Pleiades, as the centre around which the sidereal system is moving. Had he examined further he would have found more marked instances of community of motion in other parts of the heavens, a circumstance which would have at once compelled him to abandon his hypothesis of a central sun in the Pleiades, or at least to lay no stress on the evidence derivable from the community of motion in Taurus.

Perhaps the most remarkable instance of star-drift is that observed in the constellations Gemini and Cancer. Here the stars seem to set bodily towards the neighbouring part of the Milky Way. The general drift in that direction is too marked, and affects too many stars, to be regarded as by any possibility referable to accidental coincidence.

It is worthy of note that if the community of star-drift should be recognized (or I prefer to say, when it is recognized), astronomers will have the means of determining the relative distances of the stars of a drifting system. For differences in the apparent direction and amount of motion can be due but to differences of distance and position, and the determination of these differences becomes merely a question of perspective.

Before long it is likely that the theory of star-drift will be subjected to a crucial test, since spectroscopic analysis affords the means of determining the stellar motions of recess or approach. The task is a very difficult one, but astronomers have full confidence that in the able hands of Mr. Huggins it will be successfully accomplished. I await the result with full confidence that it will confirm my views. (See pages 92–94 for the result.)

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Turning to the subject of Star-mist, under which head I include all orders of nebulæ, I propose to deal with but a small proportion of the evidence I have collected to prove that none of the nebulæ are external galaxies. That evidence has indeed become exceedingly voluminous.

I shall dwell, therefore, on three points only.

First, as to the distribution of the nebulæ:—They are not spread with any approach to uniformity over the heavens, but are gathered into streams and clusters. The one great law which characterizes their distribution is an avoidance of the Milky Way and its neighbourhood. This peculiarity has, strangely enough, been regarded by astronomers as showing that there is no association between the nebulæ and the sidereal system. They have forgotten that marked contrast is as clear a sign of association as marked resemblance, and has always been so regarded by logicians.

Secondly, there are in the southern heavens two well-marked streams of nebulæ. Each of these streams is associated with an equally well-marked stream of stars. Each intermixed stream directs its course towards a Magellanic Cloud, one towards the Nubecula Minor, the other towards the Nubecula Major. To these great clusters they flow, like rivers towards some mighty lake. And within these clusters, which are doubtless roughly spherical in form, there are found intermixed in wonderful profusion, stars, star-clusters, and all the orders of nebulæ. Can these coincidences be regarded as accidental? And if not accidental, is not the lesson they clearly teach us this, that nebulæ form but portions of the sidereal system, associating themselves with stars on terms of equality (if one may so speak), even if single stars be not more important objects in the scale of creation than these nebulous masses, which have been so long regarded as equalling, if not outvying, the sidereal system itself in extent?

The third point to which I wish to invite attention is the way in which in many nebulæ stars of considerable relative brightness, and belonging obviously to the sidereal system, are so associated with nebulous masses as to leave no doubt whatever that these masses really cling around them. The association is in many instances far too marked to be regarded as the effect of accident.

Among other instances may be cited the nebula round the stars c¹ and c² in Orion. In this object two remarkable nebulous nodules centrally surround two double stars. Admitting the association here to be real (and no other explanation can reasonably be admitted), we are led to interesting conclusions respecting the whole of that wonderful nebulous region which surrounds the sword of Orion. We are led to believe that the other nebulæ in that region are really associated with the fixed stars there; that it is not a mere coincidence, for instance, that the middle star in the belt of Orion is involved in nebula, or that the lowest star of the sword is similarly circumstanced. It is a legitimate inference from the evidence that all the nebulæ in this region belong to one great nebulous group, which extends its branches to these stars. As a mighty hand, this nebulous region seems to gather the stars here into close association, showing us, in a way there is no misinterpreting, that these stars form one system.

The nebula around the strange variable star, Eta Argûs, is another remarkable instance of this sort. More than two years ago I ventured to make two predictions about this object. The first was a tolerably safe one. I expressed my belief that the nebula would be found to be gaseous. After Mr. Huggins’s discovery that the great Orion nebula is gaseous, it was not difficult to see that the Argo nebula must be so too. At any rate, this has been established by Captain Herschel’s spectroscopic researches. The other prediction was more venturesome. Sir John Herschel, whose opinion on such points one would always prefer to share, had expressed his belief that the nebula lies far out in space beyond the stars seen in the same field of view. I ventured to express the opinion that those stars are involved in the nebula. Lately there came news from Australia that Mr. Le Sueur, with the great reflector erected at Melbourne, has found that the nebula has changed largely in shape since Sir John Herschel observed it. Mr. Le Sueur accordingly expressed his belief that the nebula lies nearer to us than the fixed stars seen in the same field of view. More lately, however, he has found that the star Eta Argûs is shining with the light of burning hydrogen, and he expresses his belief that the star has consumed the nebulous matter near it. Without agreeing with this view, I recognize in it a proof that Mr. Le Sueur now considers the nebula to be really associated with the stars around it. My belief is that as the star recovers its brilliancy observation will show that the nebula in its immediate neighbourhood becomes brighter (not fainter through being consumed as fuel). In fact, I am disposed to regard the variations of the nebula as systematic, and due to orbital motions among its various portions around neighbouring stars.

As indicative of other laws of association bearing on the relations I have been dealing with, I may mention the circumstance that red stars and variable stars affect the neighbourhood of the Milky Way or of well-marked star-streams. The constellation Orion is singularly rich in objects of this class. It is here that the strange “variable” Betelgeux lies. At present this star shows no sign of variation, but a few years ago it exhibited remarkable changes. One is invited to believe that the star may have been carried by its proper motion into regions where there is a more uniform distribution of the material whence this orb recruits its fires. It may be that in the consideration of such causes of variation affecting our sun in long past ages a more satisfactory explanation than any yet obtained may be found of the problem geologists find so perplexing—the former existence of a tropical climate in places within the temperate zone, or even near the Arctic regions.

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It remains that I should exhibit the general results to which I have been led. It has seemed to many that my views tend largely to diminish our estimate of the extent of the sidereal system. The exact reverse is the case. According to accepted views there lie within the range of our most powerful telescopes millions of millions of suns. According to mine the primary suns within the range of our telescopes must be counted by tens of thousands, or by hundreds of thousands at the outside. What does this diminution of numbers imply but that the space separating sun from sun is enormously greater than accepted theories would permit? And this increase implies an enormous increase in the estimate we are to form of the vital energies of individual suns. For the vitality of a sun, if one may be permitted the expression, is measured not merely by the amount of matter over which it exercises control, but by the extent of space within which that matter is distributed. Take an orb a thousand times vaster than our sun, and spread over its surface an amount of matter exceeding a thousandfold the combined mass of all the planets of the solar system:—So far as living force is concerned, the result is—nil. But distribute that matter throughout a vast space all round the orb:—That orb becomes at once fit to be the centre of a host of dependent worlds. Again, according to accepted theories, when the astronomer has succeeded in resolving the milky light of a portion of the galaxy into stars, he has in that direction, at any rate, reached the limits of the sidereal system. According to my views, what he has really done has been but to analyze a definite aggregation of stars, a mere corner of that great system. Yet once more, according to accepted views, thousands and thousands of galaxies, external to the sidereal system, can be seen with powerful telescopes. If I am right, the external star-systems lie far beyond the reach of the most powerful telescope man has yet been able to construct, insomuch that perchance the nearest of the outlying galaxies may lie a million times beyond the range even of the mighty mirror of the great Rosse telescope.

But this is little. Wonderful as is the extent of the sidereal system as thus viewed, even more wonderful is its infinite variety. We know how largely modern discoveries have increased our estimate of the complexity of the planetary system. Where the ancients recognized but a few planets, we now see, besides the planets, the families of satellites; we see the rings of Saturn, in which minute satellites must be as the sands on the sea-shore for multitude; the wonderful zone of asteroids; myriads on myriads of comets; millions on millions of meteor-systems, gathering more and more richly around the sun, until in his neighbourhood they form the crown of glory which bursts into view when he is totally eclipsed. But wonderful as is the variety seen within the planetary system, the variety within the sidereal system is infinitely more amazing. Besides the single suns, there are groups and systems and streams of primary suns; there are whole galaxies of minor orbs; there are clustering stellar aggregations, showing every variety of richness, of figure, and of distribution; there are all the various forms of nebulæ, resolvable and irresolvable, circular, elliptical, and spiral; and lastly, there are irregular masses of luminous gas, clinging in fantastic convolutions around stars and star-systems. Nor is it unsafe to assert that other forms and variety of structure will yet be discovered, or that hundreds more exist which we may never hope to recognize.

But lastly, even more wonderful than the infinite variety of the sidereal system, is its amazing vitality. Instead of millions of inert masses, we see the whole heavens instinct with energy—astir with busy life. The great masses of luminous vapour, though occupying countless millions of cubic miles of space, are moved by unknown forces like clouds before the summer breeze; star-mist is condensing into clusters; star-clusters are forming into suns; streams and clusters of minor orbs are swayed by unknown attractive energies; and primary suns singly or in systems are pursuing their stately path through space, rejoicing as giants to run their course, extending on all sides the mighty arm of their attraction, gathering from ever-new regions of space supplies of motive energy, to be transformed into the various forms of force—light and heat and electricity—and distributed in lavish abundance to the worlds which circle round them.

Truly may I say, in conclusion, that whether we regard its vast extent, its infinite variety, or the amazing vitality which pervades its every portion, the sidereal system is, of all the subjects man can study, the most imposing and the most stupendous. It is as a book full of mighty problems—of problems which are as yet almost untouched by man, of problems which it might seem hopeless for him to attempt to solve. But those problems are given to him for solution, and he will solve them, whenever he dares attempt to decipher aright the records of that wondrous volume.

MALLET’S THEORY OF VOLCANOES.

There are few subjects less satisfactorily treated in scientific treatises than that which Humboldt calls the Reaction of the Earth’s Interior. We find, not merely in the configuration of the earth’s crust, but in actual and very remarkable phenomena, evidence of subterranean forces of great activity; and the problems suggested seem in no sense impracticable: yet no theory of the earth’s volcanic energy has yet gained general acceptance. While the astronomer tells us of the constitution of orbs millions of times further away than our own sun, the geologist has hitherto been unable to give an account of the forces which agitate the crust of the orb on which we live.

The theory put forward respecting volcanic energy, however, by the eminent seismologist Mallet, promises not merely to take the place of all others, but to gain a degree of acceptance which has not been accorded to any theory previously enunciated. It is, in principle, exceedingly simple, though many of the details (into which I do not propose to enter) involve questions of considerable difficulty.