Side-Lights on Astronomy and Kindred Fields of Popular Science

by Simon Newcomb

So far as mere material progress is concerned, it may be doubtful whether anything so epoch-making as the steam-engine or the telegraph is held in store for us by the future. But in the field of purely scientific discovery we are finding a crowd of things of which our philosophy did not dream even ten years ago.

The greatest riddles which the nineteenth century has bequeathed to us relate to subjects so widely separated as the structure of the universe and the structure of atoms of matter. We see more and more of these structures, and we see more and more of unity everywhere, and yet new facts difficult of explanation are being added more rapidly than old facts are being explained.

We all know that the nineteenth century was marked by a separation of the sciences into a vast number of specialties, to the subdivisions of which one could see no end. But the great work of the twentieth century will be to combine many of these specialties. The physical philosopher of the present time is directing his thought to the demonstration of the unity of creation. Astronomical and physical researches are now being united in a way which is bringing the infinitely great and the infinitely small into one field of knowledge. Ten years ago the atoms of matter, of which it takes millions of millions to make a drop of water, were the minutest objects with which science could imagine itself to be concerned, Now a body of experimentalists, prominent among whom stand Professors J. J. Thompson, Becquerel, and Roentgen, have demonstrated the existence of objects so minute that they find their way among and between the atoms of matter as rain-drops do among the buildings of a city. More wonderful yet, it seems likely, although it has not been demonstrated, that these little things, called "corpuscles," play an important part in what is going on among the stars. Whether this be true or not, it is certain that there do exist in the universe emanations of some sort, producing visible effects, the investigation of which the nineteenth century has had to bequeath to the twentieth.

For the purpose of the navigator, the direction of the magnetic needle is invariable in any one place, for months and even years; but when exact scientific observations on it are made, it is found subject to numerous slight changes. The most regular of these consists in a daily change of its direction. It moves one way from morning until noon, and then, late in the afternoon and during the night, turns back again to its original pointing. The laws of this change have been carefully studied from observations, which show that it is least at the equator and larger as we go north into middle latitudes; but no explanation of it resting on an indisputable basis has ever been offered.

Besides these regular changes, there are others of a very irregular character. Every now and then the changes in the direction of the magnet are wider and more rapid than those which occur regularly every day. The needle may move back and forth in a way so fitful as to show the action of some unusual exciting cause. Such movements of the needle are commonly seen when there is a brilliant aurora. This connection shows that a magnetic storm and an aurora must be due to the same or some connected causes.

Those of us who are acquainted with astronomical matters know that the number of spots on the sun goes through a regular cycle of change, having a period of eleven years and one or two months. Now, the curious fact is, when the number and violence of magnetic storms are recorded and compared, it is found that they correspond to the spots on the sun, and go through the same period of eleven years. The conclusion seems almost inevitable: magnetic storms are due to some emanation sent out by the sun, which arises from the same cause that produces the spots. This emanation does not go on incessantly, but only in an occasional way, as storms follow each other on the earth. What is it? Every attempt to detect it has been in vain. Professor Hale, at the Yerkes Observatory, has had in operation from time to time, for several years, his ingenious spectroheliograph, which photographs the sun by a single ray of the spectrum. This instrument shows that violent actions are going on in the sun, which ordinary observation would never lead us to suspect. But it has failed to show with certainty any peculiar emanation at the time of a magnetic storm or anything connected with such a storm.

A mystery which seems yet more impenetrable is associated with the so-called new stars which blaze forth from time to time. These offer to our sight the most astounding phenomena ever presented to the physical philosopher. One hundred years ago such objects offered no mystery. There was no reason to suppose that the Creator of the universe had ceased His functions; and, continuing them, it was perfectly natural that He should be making continual additions to the universe of stars. But the idea that these objects are really new creations, made out of nothing, is contrary to all our modern ideas and not in accord with the observed facts. Granting the possibility of a really new star—if such an object were created, it would be destined to take its place among the other stars as a permanent member of the universe. Instead of this, such objects invariably fade away after a few months, and are changed into something very like an ordinary nebula. A question of transcendent interest is that of the cause of these outbursts. It cannot be said that science has, up to the present time, been able to offer any suggestion not open to question. The most definite one is the collision theory, according to which the outburst is due to the clashing together of two stars, one or both of which might previously have been dark, like a planet. The stars which may be actually photographed probably exceed one hundred millions in number, and those which give too little light to affect the photographic plate may be vastly more numerous than those which do. Dark stars revolve around bright ones in an infinite variety of ways, and complex systems of bodies, the members of which powerfully attract each other, are the rule throughout the universe. Moreover, we can set no limit to the possible number of dark or invisible stars that may be flying through the celestial spaces. While, therefore, we cannot regard the theory of collision as established, it seems to be the only one yet put forth which can lay any claim to a scientific basis. What gives most color to it is the extreme suddenness with which the new stars, so far as has yet been observed, invariably blaze forth. In almost every case it has been only two or three days from the time that the existence of such an object became known until it had attained nearly its full brightness. In fact, it would seem that in the case of the star in Perseus, as in most other cases, the greater part of the outburst took place within the space of twenty-four hours. This suddenness and rapidity is exactly what would be the result of a collision.

The most inexplicable feature of all is the rapid formation of a nebula around this star. In the first photographs of the latter, the appearance presented is simply that of an ordinary star. But, in the course of three or four months, the delicate photographs taken at the Lick Observatory showed that a nebulous light surrounded the star, and was continually growing larger and larger. At first sight, there would seem to be nothing extraordinary in this fact. Great masses of intensely hot vapor, shining by their own light, would naturally be thrown out from the star. Or, if the star had originally been surrounded by a very rare nebulous fog or vapor, the latter would be seen by the brilliant light emitted by the star. On this was based an explanation offered by Kapteyn, which at first seemed very plausible. It was that the sudden wave of light thrown out by the star when it burst forth caused the illumination of the surrounding vapor, which, though really at rest, would seem to expand with the velocity of light, as the illumination reached more and more distant regions of the nebula. This result may be made the subject of exact calculation. The velocity of light is such as would make a circuit of the earth more than seven times in a second. It would, therefore, go out from the star at the rate of a million of miles in between five and six seconds. In the lapse of one of our days, the light would have filled a sphere around the star having a diameter more than one hundred and fifty times the distance of the sun from the earth, and more than five times the dimensions of the whole solar system. Continuing its course and enlarging its sphere day after day, the sight presented to us would have been that of a gradually expanding nebulous mass—a globe of faint light continually increasing in size with the velocity of light.

The first sentiment the reader will feel on this subject is doubtless one of surprise that the distance of the star should be so great as this explanation would imply. Six months after the explosion, the globe of light, as actually photographed, was of a size which would have been visible to the naked eye only as a very minute object in the sky. Is it possible that this minute object could have been thousands of times the dimensions of our solar system?

To see how the question stands from this point of view, we must have some idea of the possible distance of the new star. To gain this idea, we must find some way of estimating distances in the universe. For a reason which will soon be apparent, we begin with the greatest structure which nature offers to the view of man. We all know that the Milky Way is formed of countless stars, too minute to be individually visible to the naked eye. The more powerful the telescope through which we sweep the heavens, the greater the number of the stars that can be seen in it. With the powerful instruments which are now in use for photographing the sky, the number of stars brought to light must rise into the hundreds of millions, and the greater part of these belong to the Milky Way. The smaller the stars we count, the greater their comparative number in the region of the Milky Way. Of the stars visible through the telescope, more than one-half are found in the Milky Way, which may be regarded as a girdle spanning the entire visible universe.