Of southern double stars, he discovered and gave careful measurements of 2,102, and described 1,708 nebulæ, of which at least 300 were new. The list was illustrated with a number of drawings, some of them extremely beautiful and elaborate.

Sir John Herschel's views as to the nature of nebulæ were considerably modified by Lord Rosse's success in "resolving" with his great reflectors a crowd of these objects into stars. His former somewhat hesitating belief in the existence of phosphorescent matter, "disseminated through extensive regions of space in the manner of a cloud or fog,"[120] was changed into a conviction that no valid distinction could be established between the faintest wisp of cosmical vapour just discernible in a powerful telescope, and the most brilliant and obvious cluster. He admitted, however, an immense range of possible variety in the size and mode of aggregation of the stellar constituents of various nebulæ. Some might appear nebulous from the closeness of their parts; some from their smallness. Others, he suggested, might be formed of "discrete luminous bodies floating in a non-luminous medium;"[121] while the annular kind probably consisted of "hollow shells of stars."[122] That a physical, and not merely an optical, connection unites nebulæ with the embroidery (so to speak) of small stars with which they are in many instances profusely decorated, was evident to him, as it must be to all who look as closely and see as clearly as he did. His description of No. 2,093 in his northern catalogue as "a network or tracery of nebula following the lines of a similar network of stars,"[123] would alone suffice to dispel the idea of accidental scattering; and many other examples of a like import might be quoted. The remarkably frequent occurrence of one or more minute stars in the close vicinity of "planetary" nebulæ led him to infer their dependent condition; and he advised the maintenance of a strict watch for evidences of circulatory movements, not only over these supposed stellar satellites, but also over the numerous "double nebulæ," in which, as he pointed out, "all the varieties of double stars as to distance, position, and relative brightness, have their counterparts." He, moreover, investigated the subject of nebular distribution by the simple and effectual method of graphic delineation or "charting," and succeeded in showing that while a much greater uniformity of scattering prevails in the southern than in the northern heavens, a condensation is nevertheless perceptible about the constellations Pisces and Cetus, roughly corresponding to the "nebular region" in Virgo by its vicinity (within 20° or 30°) to the opposite pole of the Milky Way. He concluded "that the nebulous system is distinct from the sidereal, though involving, and perhaps to a certain extent intermixed with, the latter."[124]

Towards the close of his residence at Feldhausen, Herschel was fortunate enough to witness one of those singular changes in the aspect of the firmament which occasionally challenge the attention even of the incurious, and excite the deepest wonder of the philosophical observer. Immersed apparently in the Argo nebula is a star denominated η Carinæ. When Halley visited St. Helena in 1677, it seemed of the fourth magnitude; but Lacaille in the middle of the following century, and others after him, classed it as of the second. In 1827 the traveller Burchell, being then at St. Paul, near Rio Janeiro, remarked that it had unexpectedly assumed the first rank—a circumstance the more surprising to him because he had frequently, when in Africa during the years 1811 to 1815, noted it as of only fourth magnitude. This observation, however, did not become generally known until later. Herschel, on his arrival at Feldhausen, registered the star as a bright second, and had no suspicion of its unusual character until December 16, 1837, when he suddenly perceived its light to be almost tripled. It then far outshone Rigel in Orion, and on the 2nd of January following it very nearly matched α Centauri. From that date it declined; but a second and even brighter maximum occurred in April, 1843, when Maclear, then director of the Cape Observatory, saw it blaze out with a splendour approaching that of Sirius. Its waxings and wanings were marked by curious "trepidations" of brightness extremely perplexing to theory. In 1863 it had sunk below the fifth magnitude, and in 1869 was barely visible to the naked eye; yet it was not until eighteen years later that it touched a minimum of 7·6 magnitude. Soon afterwards a recovery of brightness set in, but was not carried very far; and the star now shines steadily as of the seventh magnitude, its reddish light contrasting effectively with the silvery rays of the surrounding nebula. An attempt to include its fluctuations within a cycle of seventy years[125] has signally failed; the extent and character of the vicissitudes to which it is subject stamping it rather as a species of connecting link between periodic and temporary stars.[126]

Among the numerous topics which engaged Herschel's attention at the Cape was that of relative stellar brightness. Having contrived an "astrometer" in which an "artificial star," formed by the total reflection of moonlight from the base of a prism, served as a standard of comparison, he was able to estimate the lustre of the natural stars examined by the distances at which the artificial object appeared equal respectively to each. He thus constructed a table of 191 of the principal stars,[127] both in the northern and southern hemispheres, setting forth the numerical values of their apparent brightness relatively to that of α Centauri, which he selected as a unit of measurement. Further, the light of the full moon being found by him to exceed that of his standard star 27,408 times, and Dr. Wollaston having shown that the light of the full moon is to that of the sun as 1:801,072[128] (Zöllner made the ratio 1:618,000), it became possible to compare stellar with solar radiance. Hence was derived, in the case of the few stars at ascertained distances, a knowledge of real lustre. Alpha Centauri, for example, emits less than twice, Capella one hundred times as much light as our sun; while Arcturus, at its enormous distance, must display the splendour of 1,300 such luminaries.

Herschel returned to England in the spring of 1838, bringing with him a wealth of observation and discovery such as had perhaps never before been amassed in so short a time. Deserved honours awaited him. He was created a baronet on the occasion of the Queen's coronation (he had been knighted in 1831); universities and learned societies vied with each other in showering distinctions upon him; and the success of an enterprise in which scientific zeal was tinctured with an attractive flavour of adventurous romance, was justly regarded as a matter of national pride. His career as an observing astronomer was now virtually closed, and he devoted his leisure to the collection and arrangement of the abundant trophies of his father's and his own activity. The resulting great catalogue of 5,079 nebulæ (including all then certainly known), published in the Philosophical Transactions for 1864, is, and will probably long remain, the fundamental source of information on the subject;[129] but he unfortunately did not live to finish the companion work on double stars, for which he had accumulated a vast store of materials.[130] He died at Collingwood in Kent, May 11, 1871, in the eightieth year of his age, and was buried in Westminster Abbey, close beside the grave of Sir Isaac Newton.

The consideration of Sir John Herschel's Cape observations brings us to the close of the period we are just now engaged in studying. They were given to the world, as already stated, three years before the middle of the century, and accurately represent the condition of sidereal science at that date. Looking back over the fifty years traversed, we can see at a glance how great was the stride made in the interval. Not alone was acquaintance with individual members of the cosmos vastly extended, but their mutual relations, the laws governing their movements, their distances from the earth, masses, and intrinsic lustre, had begun to be successfully investigated. Begun to be; for only regarding a scarcely perceptible minority had even approximate conclusions been arrived at. Nevertheless the whole progress of the future lay in that beginning; it was the thin end of the wedge of exact knowledge. The principle of measurement had been substituted for that of probability; a basis had been found large and strong enough to enable calculation to ascend from it to the sidereal heavens; and refinements had been introduced, fruitful in performance, but still more in promise. Thus, rather the kind than the amount of information collected was significant for the time to come—rather the methods employed than the results actually secured rendered the first half of the nineteenth century of epochal importance in the history of our knowledge of the stars.

FOOTNOTES:

[58] Bessel, Populäre Vorlesungen, pp. 6, 408.

[59] Fitted to the old transit instrument, July 11, 1772.

[60] Briefwechsel mit Olbers, p. xvi.