The exactness of the coincidence thus brought to light was fully confirmed by further inquiries. A diligent search through the scattered records of sun-spot observations, from the time of Galileo and Scheiner onwards, put Wolf[360] in possession of materials by which he was enabled to correct Schwabe's loosely-indicated decennial period to one of slightly over eleven (11.11) years; and he further showed that this fell in with the ebb and flow of magnetic change even better than Lamont's 10-1/3 year cycle. The analogy was also pointed out between the "light-curve," or zig-zagged line representing on paper the varying intensity in the lustre of certain stars, and the similar delineation of spot-frequency; the ascent from minimum to maximum being, in both cases, usually steeper than the descent from maximum to minimum; while an additional point of resemblance was furnished by the irregularities in height of the various maxima. In other words, both the number of spots on the sun and the brightness of variable stars increase, as a rule, more rapidly than they decrease; nor does the amount of that increase, in either instance, show any approach to uniformity.
The endeavour, suggested by the very nature of the phenomenon, to connect sun-spots with weather was less successful. The first attempt of the kind was made by Sir William Herschel in 1801, and a very notable one it was. Meteorological statistics, save of the scantiest and most casual kind, did not then exist; but the price of corn from year to year was on record, and this, with full recognition of its inadequacy, he adopted as his criterion. Nor was he much better off for information respecting the solar condition. What little he could obtain, however, served, as he believed, to confirm his surmise that a copious emission of light and heat accompanies an abundant formation of "openings" in the dazzling substance whence our supply of those indispensable commodities is derived.[361] He gathered, in short, from his inquiries very much what he had expected to gather, namely, that the price of wheat was high when the sun showed an unsullied surface, and that food and spots became plentiful together.[362]
Yet this plausible inference was scarcely borne out by a more exact collocation of facts. Schwabe failed to detect any reflection of the sun-spot period in his meteorological register. Gautier[363] reached a provisional conclusion the reverse—though not markedly the reverse—of Herschel's. Wolf, in 1852, derived from an examination of Vogel's collection of Zürich Chronicles (1000-1800 A.D.) evidence showing (as he thought) that minimum years were usually wet and stormy, maximum years dry and genial;[364] but a subsequent review of the subject in 1859 convinced him that no relation of any kind between the two kinds of effects was traceable.[365] With the singular affection of our atmosphere known as the Aurora Borealis (more properly Aurora Polaris) the case was different. Here the Zürich Chronicles set Wolf on the right track in leading him to associate such luminous manifestations with a disturbed condition of the sun; since subsequent detailed observation has exhibited the curve of auroral frequency as following with such fidelity the jagged lines figuring to the eye the fluctuations of solar and magnetic activity, as to leave no reasonable doubt that all three rise and sink together under the influence of a common cause. As long ago as 1716,[366] Halley had conjectured that the Northern Lights were due to magnetic "effluvia," but there was no evidence on the subject forthcoming until Hiorter observed at Upsala in 1741 their agitating influence upon the magnetic needle. That the effect was no casual one was made superabundantly clear by Arago's researches in 1819 and subsequent years. Now both were perceived to be swayed by the same obscure power of cosmical disturbance.
The sun is not the only one of the heavenly bodies by which the magnetism of the earth is affected. Proofs of a similar kind of lunar action were laid by Kreil in 1841 before the Bohemian Society of Sciences, and with minor corrections were fully substantiated by Sabine's more extended researches. It was thus ascertained that each lunar day, or the interval of twenty-four hours and about fifty-four minutes between two successive meridian passages of our satellite, is marked by a perceptible, though very small, double oscillation of the needle—two progressive movements from east to west, and two returns from west to east.[367] Moreover, the lunar, like the solar influence (as was proved in each case by Sabine's analysis of the Hobarton and Toronto observations), extends to all three "magnetic elements," affecting not only the position of the horizontal or declination needle, but also the dip and intensity. It seems not unreasonable to attribute some portion of the same subtle power to the planets and even to the stars, though with effects rendered imperceptible by distance.
We have now to speak of the discovery and application to the heavenly bodies of a totally new method of investigation. Spectrum analysis may be shortly described as a mode of distinguishing the various species of matter by the kind of light proceeding from each. This definition at once explains how it is that, unlike every other system of chemical analysis, it has proved available in astronomy. Light, so far as quality is concerned, ignores distance. No intrinsic change, that we yet know of, is produced in it by a journey from the farthest bounds of the visible universe; so that, provided only that in quantity it remain sufficient for the purpose, its peculiarities can be equally well studied whether the source of its vibrations be one foot or a hundred billion miles distant. Now the most obvious distinction between one kind of light and another resides in colour. But of this distinction the eye takes cognisance in an æsthetic, not in a scientific sense. It finds gladness in the "thousand tints" of nature, but can neither analyse nor define them. Here the refracting prism—or the combination of prisms known as the "spectroscope"—comes to its aid, teaching it to measure as well as to perceive. It furnishes, in a word, an accurate scale of colour. The various rays which, entering the eye together in a confused crowd, produce a compound impression made up of undistinguishable elements, are, by the mere passage through a triangular piece of glass, separated one from the other, and ranged side by side in orderly succession, so that it becomes possible to tell at a glance what kinds of light are present, and what absent. Thus, if we could only be assured that the various chemical substances when made to glow by heat, emit characteristic rays—rays, that is, occupying a place in the spectrum reserved for them, and for them only—we should at once be in possession of a mode of identifying such substances with the utmost readiness and certainty. This assurance, which forms the solid basis of spectrum analysis, was obtained slowly and with difficulty.
The first to employ the prism in the examination of various flames (for it is only in a state of vapour that matter emits distinctive light) was a young Scotchman named Thomas Melvill, who died in 1753, at the age of twenty-seven. He studied the spectrum of burning spirits, into which were successively introduced sal ammoniac, potash, alum, nitre, and sea-salt, and observed the singular predominance, under almost all circumstances, of a particular shade of yellow light, perfectly definite in its degree of refrangibility[368]—in other words, taking up a perfectly definite position in the spectrum. His experiments were repeated by Morgan,[369] Wollaston, and—with far superior precision and diligence—by Fraunhofer.[370] The great Munich optician, whose work was completely original, rediscovered Melvill's deep yellow ray and measured its place in the colour-scale. It has since become well known as the "sodium line," and has played a very important part in the history of spectrum analysis. Nevertheless, its ubiquity and conspicuousness long impeded progress. It was elicited by the combustion of a surprising variety of substances—sulphur, alcohol, ivory, wood, paper; its persistent visibility suggesting the accomplishment of some universal process of nature rather than the presence of one individual kind of matter. But if spectrum analysis were to exist as a science at all, it could only be by attaining certainty as to the unvarying association of one special substance with each special quality of light.
Thus perplexed, Fox Talbot[371] hesitated in 1826 to enounce this fundamental principle. He was inclined to believe that the presence in the spectrum of any individual ray told unerringly of the volatilisation in the flame under scrutiny of some body as whose badge or distinctive symbol that ray might be regarded; but the continual prominence of the yellow beam staggered him. It appeared, indeed, without fail where sodium was; but it also appeared where it might be thought only reasonable to conclude that sodium was not. Nor was it until thirty years later that William Swan,[372] by pointing out the extreme delicacy of the spectral test, and the singularly wide dispersion of sodium, made it appear probable (but even then only probable) that the questionable yellow line was really due invariably to that substance. Common salt (chloride of sodium) is, in fact, the most diffusive of solids. It floats in the air; it flows with water; every grain of dust has its attendant particle; its absolute exclusion approaches the impossible. And withal, the light that it gives in burning is so intense and concentrated, that if a single grain be divided into 180 million parts, and one alone of such inconceivably minute fragments be present in a source of light, the spectroscope will show unmistakably its characteristic beam.
Amongst the pioneers of knowledge in this direction were Sir John Herschel[373]—who, however, applied himself to the subject in the interests of optics, not of chemistry—W. A. Miller,[374] and Wheatstone. The last especially made a notable advance when, in the course of his studies on the "prismatic decomposition" of the electric light, he reached the significant conclusion that the rays visible in its spectrum were different for each kind of metal employed as "electrodes."[375] Thus indications of a wider principle were to be found in several quarters, but no positive certainty on any single point was obtained, until, in 1859, Gustav Kirchhoff, professor of physics in the University of Heidelberg, and his colleague, the eminent chemist Robert Bunsen, took the matter in hand. By them the general question as to the necessary and invariable connection of certain rays in the spectrum with certain kinds of matter, was first resolutely confronted, and first definitely answered. It was answered affirmatively—else there could have been no science of spectrum analysis—as the result of experiments more numerous, more stringent, and more precise than had previously been undertaken.[376] And the assurance of their conclusion was rendered doubly sure by the discovery, through the peculiarities of their light alone, of two new metals, named from the blue and red rays by which they were respectively distinguished, "cæsium," and "rubidium."[377] Both were immediately afterwards actually obtained in small quantities by evaporation of the Durckheim mineral waters.
The link connecting this important result with astronomy may now be indicated. In the year 1802 it occurred to William Hyde Wollaston to substitute for the round hole used by Newton and his successors for the admittance of light to be examined with the prism, an elongated "crevice" 1/20th of an inch in width. He thereupon perceived that the spectrum, thus formed of light, as it were, purified by the abolition of overlapping images, was traversed by seven dark lines. These he took to be natural boundaries of the various colours,[378] and satisfied with this quasi-explanation, allowed the subject to drop. It was independently taken up after twelve years by a man of higher genius. In the course of experiments on light, directed towards the perfecting of his achromatic lenses, Fraunhofer, by means of a slit and a telescope, made the surprising discovery that the solar spectrum is crossed, not by seven, but by thousands of obscure transverse streaks.[379] Of these he counted some 600, and carefully mapped 324, while a few of the most conspicuous he set up (if we may be permitted the expression) as landmarks, measuring their distances apart with a theodolite, and affixing to them the letters of the alphabet, by which they are still universally known. Nor did he stop here. The same system of examination applied to the rest of the heavenly bodies showed the mild effulgence of the moon and planets to be deficient in precisely the same rays as sunlight; while in the stars it disclosed the differences in likeness which are always an earnest of increased knowledge. The spectra of Sirius and Castor, instead of being delicately ruled crosswise throughout, like that of the sun, were seen to be interrupted by three massive bars of darkness—two in the blue and one in the green;[380] the light of Pollux, on the other hand, seemed precisely similar to sunlight attenuated by distance or reflection, and that of Capella, Betelgeux, and Procyon to share some of its peculiarities. One solar line especially—that marked in his map with the letter D—proved common to all the four last-mentioned stars; and it was remarkable that it exactly coincided in position with the conspicuous yellow beam (afterwards, as we have said, identified with the light of glowing sodium) which he had already found to accompany most kinds of combustion. Moreover, both the dark solar and the bright terrestrial "D lines" were displayed by the refined Munich appliances as double.
In this striking correspondence, discovered by Fraunhofer in 1815, was contained the very essence of solar chemistry; but its true significance did not become apparent until long afterwards. Fraunhofer was by profession, not a physicist, but a practical optician. Time pressed; he could not and would not deviate from his appointed track; all that was possible to him was to indicate the road to discovery, and exhort others to follow it.[381]