Part 9

Some attempt at giving the magnitude is included in every considerable list of stars. The work of determining the magnitudes with the greatest precision is so laborious that it must go on rather slowly. It is being pursued on a large scale at the Harvard Observatory, as well as in that of Potsdam, Germany.

We come now to the question of changes in the appearance of bright stars. It seems pretty certain that more than one per cent of these bodies fluctuate to a greater or less extent in their light. Observations of these fluctuations, in the case of at least the brighter stars, may be carried on without any instrument more expensive than a good opera-glass--in fact, in the case of stars visible to the naked eye, with no instrument at all.

As a general rule, the light of these stars goes through its changes in a regular period, which is sometimes as short as a few hours, but generally several days, frequently a large fraction of a year or even eighteen months. Observations of these stars are made to determine the length of the period and the law of variation of the brightness. Any person with a good eye and skill in making estimates can make the observations if he will devote sufficient pains to training himself; but they require a degree of care and assiduity which is not to be expected of any one but an enthusiast on the subject. One of the most successful observers of the present time is Mr. W. A. Roberts, a resident of South Africa, whom the Boer war did not prevent from keeping up a watch of the southern sky, which has resulted in greatly increasing our knowledge of variable stars. There are also quite a number of astronomers in Europe and America who make this particular study their specialty.

During the past fifteen years the art of measuring the speed with which a star is approaching us or receding from us has been brought to a wonderful degree of perfection. The instrument with which this was first done was the spectroscope; it is now replaced with another of the same general kind, called the spectrograph. The latter differs from the other only in that the spectrum of the star is photographed, and the observer makes his measures on the negative. This method was first extensively applied at the Potsdam Observatory in Germany, and has lately become one of the specialties of the Lick Observatory, where Professor Campbell has brought it to its present degree of perfection. The Yerkes Observatory is also beginning work in the same line, where Professor Frost is already rivalling the Lick Observatory in the precision of his measures.

Let us now go back to our own little colony and see what is being done to advance our knowledge of the solar system. This consists of planets, on one of which we dwell, moons revolving around them, comets, and meteoric bodies. The principal national observatories keep up a more or less orderly system of observations of the positions of the planets and their satellites in order to determine the laws of their motion. As in the case of the stars, it is necessary to continue these observations through long periods of time in order that everything possible to learn may be discovered.

Our own moon is one of the enigmas of the mathematical astronomer. Observations show that she is deviating from her predicted place, and that this deviation continues to increase. True, it is not very great when measured by an ordinary standard. The time at which the moon's shadow passed a given point near Norfolk during the total eclipse of May 29, 1900, was only about seven seconds different from the time given in the Astronomical Ephemeris. The path of the shadow along the earth was not out of place by more than one or two miles But, small though these deviations are, they show that something is wrong, and no one has as yet found out what it is. Worse yet, the deviation is increasing rapidly. The observers of the total eclipse in August, 1905, were surprised to find that it began twenty seconds before the predicted time. The mathematical problems involved in correcting this error are of such complexity that it is only now and then that a mathematician turns up anywhere in the world who is both able and bold enough to attack them.

There now seems little doubt that Jupiter is a miniature sun, only not hot enough at its surface to shine by its own light The point in which it most resembles the sun is that its equatorial regions rotate in less time than do the regions near the poles. This shows that what we see is not a solid body. But none of the careful observers have yet succeeded in determining the law of this difference of rotation.

Twelve years ago a suspicion which had long been entertained that the earth's axis of rotation varied a little from time to time was verified by Chandler. The result of this is a slight change in the latitude of all places on the earth's surface, which admits of being determined by precise observations. The National Geodetic Association has established four observatories on the same parallel of latitude--one at Gaithersburg, Maryland, another on the Pacific coast, a third in Japan, and a fourth in Italy--to study these variations by continuous observations from night to night. This work is now going forward on a well-devised plan.

A fact which will appeal to our readers on this side of the Atlantic is the success of American astronomers. Sixty years ago it could not be said that there was a well-known observatory on the American continent. The cultivation of astronomy was confined to a professor here and there, who seldom had anything better than a little telescope with which he showed the heavenly bodies to his students. But during the past thirty years all this has been changed. The total quantity of published research is still less among us than on the continent of Europe, but the number of men who have reached the highest success among us may be judged by one fact. The Royal Astronomical Society of England awards an annual medal to the English or foreign astronomer deemed most worthy of it. The number of these medals awarded to Americans within twenty-five years is about equal to the number awarded to the astronomers of all other nations foreign to the English. That this preponderance is not growing less is shown by the award of medals to Americans in three consecutive years--1904, 1905, and 1906. The recipients were Hale, Boss, and Campbell. Of the fifty foreign associates chosen by this society for their eminence in astronomical research, no less than eighteen--more than one-third--are Americans.

VII

LIFE IN THE UNIVERSE

So far as we can judge from what we see on our globe, the production of life is one of the greatest and most incessant purposes of nature. Life is absent only in regions of perpetual frost, where it never has an opportunity to begin; in places where the temperature is near the boiling-point, which is found to be destructive to it; and beneath the earth's surface, where none of the changes essential to it can come about. Within the limits imposed by these prohibitory conditions--that is to say, within the range of temperature at which water retains its liquid state, and in regions where the sun's rays can penetrate and where wind can blow and water exist in a liquid form--life is the universal rule. How prodigal nature seems to be in its production is too trite a fact to be dwelt upon. We have all read of the millions of germs which are destroyed for every one that comes to maturity. Even the higher forms of life are found almost everywhere. Only small islands have ever been discovered which were uninhabited, and animals of a higher grade are as widely diffused as man.

If it would be going too far to claim that all conditions may have forms of life appropriate to them, it would be going as much too far in the other direction to claim that life can exist only with the precise surroundings which nurture it on this planet. It is very remarkable in this connection that while in one direction we see life coming to an end, in the other direction we see it flourishing more and more up to the limit. These two directions are those of heat and cold. We cannot suppose that life would develop in any important degree in a region of perpetual frost, such as the polar regions of our globe. But we do not find any end to it as the climate becomes warmer. On the contrary, every one knows that the tropics are the most fertile regions of the globe in its production. The luxuriance of the vegetation and the number of the animals continually increase the more tropical the climate becomes. Where the limit may be set no one can say. But it would doubtless be far above the present temperature of the equatorial regions.

It has often been said that this does not apply to the human race, that men lack vigor in the tropics. But human vigor depends on so many conditions, hereditary and otherwise, that we cannot regard the inferior development of humanity in the tropics as due solely to temperature. Physically considered, no men attain a better development than many tribes who inhabit the warmer regions of the globe. The inferiority of the inhabitants of these regions in intellectual power is more likely the result of race heredity than of temperature.

We all know that this earth on which we dwell is only one of countless millions of globes scattered through the wilds of infinite space. So far as we know, most of these globes are wholly unlike the earth, being at a temperature so high that, like our sun, they shine by their own light. In such worlds we may regard it as quite certain that no organized life could exist. But evidence is continually increasing that dark and opaque worlds like ours exist and revolve around their suns, as the earth on which we dwell revolves around its central luminary. Although the number of such globes yet discovered is not great, the circumstances under which they are found lead us to believe that the actual number may be as great as that of the visible stars which stud the sky. If so, the probabilities are that millions of them are essentially similar to our own globe. Have we any reason to believe that life exists on these other worlds?

The reader will not expect me to answer this question positively. It must be admitted that, scientifically, we have no light upon the question, and therefore no positive grounds for reaching a conclusion. We can only reason by analogy and by what we know of the origin and conditions of life around us, and assume that the same agencies which are at play here would be found at play under similar conditions in other parts of the universe.

If we ask what the opinion of men has been, we know historically that our race has, in all periods of its history, peopled other regions with beings even higher in the scale of development than we are ourselves. The gods and demons of an earlier age all wielded powers greater than those granted to man--powers which they could use to determine human destiny. But, up to the time that Copernicus showed that the planets were other worlds, the location of these imaginary beings was rather indefinite. It was therefore quite natural that when the moon and planets were found to be dark globes of a size comparable with that of the earth itself, they were made the habitations of beings like unto ourselves.

The trend of modern discovery has been against carrying this view to its extreme, as will be presently shown. Before considering the difficulties in the way of accepting it to the widest extent, let us enter upon some preliminary considerations as to the origin and prevalence of life, so far as we have any sound basis to go upon.

A generation ago the origin of life upon our planet was one of the great mysteries of science. All the facts brought out by investigation into the past history of our earth seemed to show, with hardly the possibility of a doubt, that there was a time when it was a fiery mass, no more capable of serving as the abode of a living being than the interior of a Bessemer steel furnace. There must therefore have been, within a certain period, a beginning of life upon its surface. But, so far as investigation had gone--indeed, so far as it has gone to the present time--no life has been found to originate of itself. The living germ seems to be necessary to the beginning of any living form. Whence, then, came the first germ? Many of our readers may remember a suggestion by Sir William Thomson, now Lord Kelvin, made twenty or thirty years ago, that life may have been brought to our planet by the falling of a meteor from space. This does not, however, solve the difficulty--indeed, it would only make it greater. It still leaves open the question how life began on the meteor; and granting this, why it was not destroyed by the heat generated as the meteor passed through the air. The popular view that life began through a special act of creative power seemed to be almost forced upon man by the failure of science to discover any other beginning for it. It cannot be said that even to-day anything definite has been actually discovered to refute this view. All we can say about it is that it does not run in with the general views of modern science as to the beginning of things, and that those who refuse to accept it must hold that, under certain conditions which prevail, life begins by a very gradual process, similar to that by which forms suggesting growth seem to originate even under conditions so unfavorable as those existing in a bottle of acid.

But it is not at all necessary for our purpose to decide this question. If life existed through a creative act, it is absurd to suppose that that act was confined to one of the countless millions of worlds scattered through space. If it began at a certain stage of evolution by a natural process, the question will arise, what conditions are favorable to the commencement of this process? Here we are quite justified in reasoning from what, granting this process, has taken place upon our globe during its past history. One of the most elementary principles accepted by the human mind is that like causes produce like effects. The special conditions under which we find life to develop around us may be comprehensively summed up as the existence of water in the liquid form, and the presence of nitrogen, free perhaps in the first place, but accompanied by substances with which it may form combinations. Oxygen, hydrogen, and nitrogen are, then, the fundamental requirements. The addition of calcium or other forms of matter necessary to the existence of a solid world goes without saying. The question now is whether these necessary conditions exist in other parts of the universe.

The spectroscope shows that, so far as the chemical elements go, other worlds are composed of the same elements as ours. Hydrogen especially exists everywhere, and we have reason to believe that the same is true of oxygen and nitrogen. Calcium, the base of lime, is almost universal. So far as chemical elements go, we may therefore take it for granted that the conditions under which life begins are very widely diffused in the universe. It is, therefore, contrary to all the analogies of nature to suppose that life began only on a single world.

It is a scientific inference, based on facts so numerous as not to admit of serious question, that during the history of our globe there has been a continually improving development of life. As ages upon ages pass, new forms are generated, higher in the scale than those which preceded them, until at length reason appears and asserts its sway. In a recent well-known work Alfred Russel Wallace has argued that this development of life required the presence of such a rare combination of conditions that there is no reason to suppose that it prevailed anywhere except on our earth. It is quite impossible in the present discussion to follow his reasoning in detail; but it seems to me altogether inconclusive. Not only does life, but intelligence, flourish on this globe under a great variety of conditions as regards temperature and surroundings, and no sound reason can be shown why under certain conditions, which are frequent in the universe, intelligent beings should not acquire the highest development.

Now let us look at the subject from the view of the mathematical theory of probabilities. A fundamental tenet of this theory is that no matter how improbable a result may be on a single trial, supposing it at all possible, it is sure to occur after a sufficient number of trials--and over and over again if the trials are repeated often enough. For example, if a million grains of corn, of which a single one was red, were all placed in a pile, and a blindfolded person were required to grope in the pile, select a grain, and then put it back again, the chances would be a million to one against his drawing out the red grain. If drawing it meant he should die, a sensible person would give himself no concern at having to draw the grain. The probability of his death would not be so great as the actual probability that he will really die within the next twenty-four hours. And yet if the whole human race were required to run this chance, it is certain that about fifteen hundred, or one out of a million, of the whole human family would draw the red grain and meet his death.

Now apply this principle to the universe. Let us suppose, to fix the ideas, that there are a hundred million worlds, but that the chances are one thousand to one against any one of these taken at random being fitted for the highest development of life or for the evolution of reason. The chances would still be that one hundred thousand of them would be inhabited by rational beings whom we call human. But where are we to look for these worlds? This no man can tell. We only infer from the statistics of the stars--and this inference is fairly well grounded--that the number of worlds which, so far as we know, may be inhabited, are to be counted by thousands, and perhaps by millions.

In a number of bodies so vast we should expect every variety of conditions as regards temperature and surroundings. If we suppose that the special conditions which prevail on our planet are necessary to the highest forms of life, we still have reason to believe that these same conditions prevail on thousands of other worlds. The fact that we might find the conditions in millions of other worlds unfavorable to life would not disprove the existence of the latter on countless worlds differently situated.

Coming down now from the general question to the specific one, we all know that the only worlds the conditions of which can be made the subject of observation are the planets which revolve around the sun, and their satellites. The question whether these bodies are inhabited is one which, of course, completely transcends not only our powers of observation at present, but every appliance of research that we can conceive of men devising. If Mars is inhabited, and if the people of that planet have equal powers with ourselves, the problem of merely producing an illumination which could be seen in our most powerful telescope would be beyond all the ordinary efforts of an entire nation. An unbroken square mile of flame would be invisible in our telescopes, but a hundred square miles might be seen. We cannot, therefore, expect to see any signs of the works of inhabitants even on Mars. All that we can do is to ascertain with greater or less probability whether the conditions necessary to life exist on the other planets of the system.

The moon being much the nearest to us of all the heavenly bodies, we can pronounce more definitely in its case than in any other. We know that neither air nor water exists on the moon in quantities sufficient to be perceived by the most delicate tests at our command. It is certain that the moon's atmosphere, if any exists, is less than the thousandth part of the density of that around us. The vacuum is greater than any ordinary air-pump is capable of producing. We can hardly suppose that so small a quantity of air could be of any benefit whatever in sustaining life; an animal that could get along on so little could get along on none at all.

But the proof of the absence of life is yet stronger when we consider the results of actual telescopic observation. An object such as an ordinary city block could be detected on the moon. If anything like vegetation were present on its surface, we should see the changes which it would undergo in the course of a month, during one portion of which it would be exposed to the rays of the unclouded sun, and during another to the intense cold of space. If men built cities, or even separate buildings the size of the larger ones on our earth, we might see some signs of them.