Flowers of the Sky

by Richard A. Proctor

It may be well to consider the very words of the great philosopher, so far at least as our more diffuse language can present the concise expressions of the original Latin:

"Hitherto we have explained," he says, "the phenomena of the heavens and of our sea by the power of gravity, but have not yet assigned the cause of this power. This is certain" (we must hearken attentively here, for when a man like Newton speaks of aught as certain, we have sure ground to go upon),—"this is certain, that it must proceed from a cause that penetrates to the very centres of the sun and planets, without suffering the least diminution of its forces; that operates, not according to the quantity of surfaces of particles on which it acts (as mechanical causes usually do), but according to the quantity of the solid matter which they contain, and propagates its virtue on all sides to immense distances, decreasing always as the squares of the distances. Gravitation towards the sun is made up of the gravitations towards the several particles of which the body of the sun is composed, and in receding from the sun decreases accurately as the square of the distances as far as the path of Saturn..., nay, and even to the remotest parts of the paths of comets.... But hitherto I have not been able to discover the cause of those properties of gravity from phenomena; and I frame no hypotheses:[4] for, whatever is not deduced from phenomena is to be called an hypothesis; and hypotheses, whether metaphysical or physical, whether of occult qualities or mechanical, have no place in experimental philosophy.... To us it is enough that gravity does really exist, and act according to the laws which we have explained, and abundantly serves to account for all the motions of the celestial bodies and of our sea."

"Hitherto I have not been able to discover the cause of the properties of gravity." Such is the simple statement of the man who discovered those properties.

And now let us inquire a little into this law of gravity, not with the hope of explaining this great mystery of nature,—though, for my own part, I believe that the time is not far distant when the progress of discovery will enable man to make this approach towards the mystery of mysteries,—but in order to recognise the real nature of the mystery, which is a very different thing from explaining it.

In the first place the study of gravity brings us at once to the consideration of the infinitely minute,—at least of what is for us practically infinite in its minuteness. If we consider the above quotation attentively, we perceive that this quality of gravity was recognised by Newton. "It is not the quantity of the surfaces of particles," he says, "but the quantity of solid matter which they contain," that gives to gravity its power. Gravity resides in the ultimate particles of matter. We cannot conceive of matter so divided, no matter how finely, that non-gravitating particles could be separated from gravitating particles. Without entering into the question what atoms are, we perceive that these ultimate constituents of matter must contain, each according to the quantity of matter in it, the gravitating energy. Only, observe how incongruously we are compelled to speak. (It is always so when we deal with the infinite, whether the infinitely great or the infinitely minute.) We are speaking of atoms as the ultimate constituents of matter, and yet we are compelled, in describing their gravitating energy, to speak of the quantity of matter contained in each atom,—in other words, we speak in the same breath of an atom as not admitting of being divided or diminished, and of its containing matter by quantity, that is, by more or less. May we not, however, reasonably accept both views? The reasoning is sound by which science has proved that, so far as our material universe is concerned, there is a limit beyond which the division of matter cannot be supposed to go,—insomuch that Sir W. Thomson has indicated the actual limits of size of the atoms composing matter. Yet, passing in imagination beyond the bounds of our visible universe, and so entering into the next order of universe below it (in scale of construction),—the ether of space,—the atoms of our universe may be infinitely divisible in that universe, may be, in fact, compared with its particles, as the suns and worlds of our universe are to our atoms and molecules.

But while gravity thus draws us to the contemplation of the infinitely minute, it also leads us to the consideration of what is for us the infinitely vast.

Newton was only able to speak confidently of the action of gravity at the distance of Saturn, the remotest planet known in his day. He did, indeed, refer to the comets as probably obeying, even in the remotest parts of their paths, the force of the sun's gravity; but he could not be certain on that point, because in his time no comet had been proved to travel back to the sun after receding to the remotest portion of its track. We now know not only that the sun's attraction extends to the farthest parts of the solar system, having thus a domain in space nearly thirty times larger than the sphere of Saturn, but we perceive that many among the stars exert a similar force; for around them travel other stars even as the planets travel around the sun. Thus we know that gravity is exerted in regions lying hundreds of thousands of times farther from the sun than Saturn is. We have, indeed, every reason to believe, not only that star unto star extendeth this mysterious attractive influence, but that the least particle in the inmost depths of sun or world exerts in full force on each particle, even of suns lying millions of times beyond the range of the most powerful telescope yet constructed by man, the full energy corresponding (i.) to the quantity of matter in itself and such particle, and (ii.) to the distance separating each from each.

This is amazing enough; but there is something more perplexing and mysterious in gravity even than this. Not only does gravity lead us to consider the infinitely minute in space on the one hand, and the infinitely vast in space on the other, but also it leads us to consider the infinitely minute and the infinitely vast in time also, and this in such a way as to suggest a difficulty which, as yet, no man has been able to solve.

Light travels, as we know, with a velocity so enormous, that, by comparison with it, all the velocities we are familiar with seem absolutely as rest. But gravity acts so quickly that even the velocity of light becomes as rest by comparison with the velocity of the propagation of gravity. Laplace had occasion, now nearly a century ago, to inquire whether a certain change in the moon's motion, by which she seemed to be gradually hastening her motion round the earth, might not be caused by the circumstance that gravity requires time for its action to be propagated over great distances. He found that if the whole of that change had to be explained in this way, which would be giving to gravity the slowest admissible rate of transmission, the velocity with which gravity is propagated would be eight million times greater than the velocity of light. If, on the other hand, that change in the moon's motion could be satisfactorily explained in some other way, then the velocity of gravity must be at least 16,000,000 times greater than the velocity of light. He himself soon after discovered what was in his day regarded as a complete explanation of the hastening of the moon's motion; and though in our own time Adams of Cambridge has shewn that only half the hastening can be accounted for by Laplace's reasoning, the general explanation of the remaining half is that it is not a real hastening of the moon, but is only an apparent hastening caused by the gradual slowing of the earth's rate of turning on her axis. This makes the day by which we measure the moon's motion seem longer (very slightly, however).[5] Supposing, however, half the moon's hastening were left unexplained, and that the non-instantaneous transmission of gravity were the only way of accounting for it, even then it would be certain that gravity is propagated at a rate exceeding 12,000,000 times the velocity of light.

Indeed, at present, owing to the more exact observations available, and the greater range of time over which they extend, it may safely be said that the rate of propagation of gravity is far greater than this. It is even held by some that gravity acts instantaneously over any distance, however vast.