New Theories in Astronomy

by William Stirling

Analysis of the Nebular Hypothesis—continued.

When Laplace elaborated his hypothesis, heat was considered to be an imponderable material substance, and continued to be thought of as such—though perhaps not altogether believed to be so—for somewhere about half a century afterwards; so that it cannot be wondered at that he thought the nebula could have been endowed with excessive heat, more especially as it was looked upon as imponderable, and could in no way have any effect on the mass of the nebula. He only accepted the idea that was common to almost all astronomers of his time, that nebulæ were masses of cosmic matter of extreme tenuity but self-luminous, and consequently possessed of intense heat; they saw the sun gave light and felt its heat, and very naturally thought the nebula must be hot also. Without this idea he could not have formed the hypothesis at all, because he could not have conceived that the condensation of the nebula could only take place at its surface, or, as he terms it, "in the atmosphere of the sun," as most assuredly would be the case with an excessively hot body. And in order that there may be no doubt about this being his idea, we quote his own words as guaranteed by M. Faye in "L'Origine du Monde": "La considération des mouvements planétaires nous conduit donc à penser qu'en vertu d'une chaleur excessive l'atmosphère du soleil s'est primitivement étendu au delà des orbes de toutes les planètes, et qu'elle s'est reserrée successivement jusqu'à ses limites actuelles." And again: "Mais comment l'atmosphère solaire a-t-elle déterminé les mouvements de rotation et de révolution des planètes et des satellites? Si ces corps avaient pénétré profondément dans cette atmosphère, sa résistance les aurait fait tomber sur le soleil. On peut donc conjecturer que les planètes ont été formées à ses limites successives par la condensation des zones de vapeurs qu'elle à dû, en se refroidissant, abandonner dans le plan de son équateur." Proceeding on these ideas Laplace was quite in order and logical in conceiving that successive rings could be abandoned by the hot nebula, through the centrifugal force of rotation, for the formation of planets, more or less just in the way we have separated them. Having obtained his end quite legitimately, as he thought, in this way, he had no occasion to look any deeper into the affair, and consequently was not under the necessity of taking any thought of what the interior construction of the nebula might be, any more than so many others have not done since his day.

That he should have conceived the nebula to have been endowed with intense heat was, as we have already said, a natural consequence of the mistaken notions of the nature of heat at that period; but that so many astronomers should, up to the present day, think that the nebula must have been intensely hot, even to the degree required to dissociate the meteorites of which they conceive it to have consisted, seems to us to be almost inconceivable. We believe we have shown abundantly plainly, that there could have been almost no heat in the primitive nebula, because there was hardly any cosmic matter to hold it in. We have given as proof of this the laws of gases recognised and accepted by every scientist, according to which a gas cannot contain a stated amount of heat except it be at a pressure corresponding to that temperature, that is, unless it is subjected to conditions foreign to its natural state. Therefore we must either persist in maintaining that there was almost no heat in the original nebula, or we must throw the laws of gases to the winds, for they all depend one upon another. There may be nebulæ possessed of very high temperature, that of incandescence for example, but certainly the nebula out of which the solar system was made, could not have contained more heat than what we have shown it had at the various stages through which we have carried it. If there be nebulæ at the temperature of incandescence, they must be possessed of densities, or pressures, corresponding to that temperature. A few pages back we have spoken of the impossibility of two grains of matter 90 feet apart, raising, by mutual collisions, their temperature and that of the space occupied by each to the temperature of incandescence, and if we now substitute for them meteorites of a pound weight each, the space occupied by each of them will be a cube of 1670 feet to the side, which does not help us in any way to believe that the spaces occupied by them could be heated up by their collisions, so as to shine with the temperature of incandescence. So we get no help from meteorites.

Some people evidently seem to think that nebulæ can be incandescent and give the spectrum of incandescent gas, without their density or pressure being increased to the corresponding degree. Sir Robert Ball seems to be one of them, though at the same time he appears to be not altogether sure of it. When discussing the self-luminosity of the nebula in Orion, in his "Story of the Heavens," Ed. 1890, p. 465, he says:

"We have, fortunately, one or two very interesting observations on this point. On a particularly fine night, when the speculum of the great six-foot telescope of Parsonstown was in its finest order, the skilled eye of the late Earl of Rosse and of his assistant, Mr. Stoney, detected in the densest part of the nebula myriads of minute stars, which had never before been recognised by human eye. Unquestionably the commingled rays of these stars contribute not a little to the brilliancy of the nebula, but there still remains the question as to whether the entire luminosity of the great nebula can be explained, or whether the light thereof may not partly arise from some other source. The question is one which must necessarily be forced on the attention of any observer who has ever enjoyed the privilege of viewing the great nebula through a telescope of power really adequate to render justice to its beauty. It seems impossible to believe that the bluish light of such delicately graduated shades has really arisen merely from stellar points. The object is so soft and so continuous—might we not almost say ghost-like?—that it is impossible not to believe that we are really looking at some gaseous matter."

Here we see that his own belief about the matter is not very firm. He admits that the stars contribute not a little to the brilliancy of the nebula, and the most he can say in favour of its shining with its own light is, that it seems impossible to believe that the light has arisen merely from stellar points. He then goes on to show how the self-luminosity may be explained, as follows:—

"But here a difficulty may be suggested. The nebula is a luminous body, but ordinary gas is invisible. We do not see the gases which surround us and form the atmosphere in which we live. How, then, if the nebula consisted merely of gaseous matter, would we see it shining on the far distant heavens? A well-known experiment will at once explain this difficulty. We take a tube containing a very small quantity of some gas: for example hydrogen; this gas is usually invisible; no one could tell that there is any gas in the tube, or still less could the kind of gas be known; but pour a stream of electricity through the tube, and instantly the gas begins to glow with a violet light. What has the electricity done for us in this experiment? Its sole effect has been to heat the gas. It is, indeed, merely a convenient means of heating the gas and making it glow. It is not the electricity which we see, it is rather the gas heated by the electricity. We infer, then, that if the gas be heated it becomes luminous. The gas does not burn in the ordinary sense of the word; no chemical change has taken place. The tube contains exactly the same amount of hydrogen after the experiment that it did before. It glows with the heat just as red-hot iron glows. If, then, we could believe that in the great nebula of Orion there were vast volumes of rarefied gas in the same physical condition as the gas in the tube while the electricity was passing, then we should expect to find that this gas would actually glow."

There is a great deal to be said about this explanation. We presume that a very small quantity of hydrogen gas means that it was considerably below atmospheric pressure. Even so we admit that by introducing sufficient heat into the tube by means of electricity or otherwise, the gas could be raised to the temperature of incandescence, but its pressure would, at the same time, be increased to the corresponding force measured in atmospheres; and we also admit that when the gas was allowed to cool down to its original temperature, the same quantity of hydrogen would be found in the tube; but how about the tube? When the gas came to be at the temperature of incandescence the tube would be the same, or very soon raised to it, and being made of glass would be sufficiently plastic to be distorted, or even burst by the pressure within, probably even before the gas reached the temperature of incandescence. We must not forget that the first appearance of incandescence begins with red heat whose temperature is not far from 500° in daylight, and that white heat rises to above 1000°. If the experiment was made in an almost capillary tube, sufficiently thick to prevent accidents, then it might appear to prove a foregone conclusion, but nothing else; it might keep the idea of pressure out of sight, but it could not prove that the gas inside was in a rarefied state when incandescent. That the gas glowed the same as a red-hot bar of iron has not been shown. The gas had to be shut up in a tube to make it glow, but the bar of iron could glow outside of the tube. Could a streak of hydrogen be put into a furnace along with a bar of iron and heated to incandescence by its side, there might be some fair comparison between them, as long as they were in the furnace together, but the moment they were taken out the glow would disappear from the gas, whereas the iron would glow for some time. On the other hand we might say that a stream of incandescent gas might be made to heat a bar of iron in an oven to its own temperature, but the moment the stream of gas and the iron bar were removed from the oven, the former would disappear at once and the latter would continue to glow, simply because it was dense enough to contain a very considerable supply of heat compared to what the gas could, or rather, because the pressure of the gas, even did it correspond to the temperature, would disappear at once and the heat with it. So it is not always safe to say things. But it is quite safe to say that no gas—or substance such as we are accustomed to look upon as gas—can abide in a state of incandescence, and merely glow, unless its pressure, or density, corresponds to the temperature of incandescence; which for red heat (in the dark) would be 370° = 2·35 atmospheres, and for white heat at 1000° = 4·65 atmospheres, above absolute zero of pressure in both cases. And also, that if the self-luminosity of a nebula arises from incandescent gas, the pressure in the gas of that nebula must be somewhere between 2 and 5 atmospheres above absolute zero of pressure. Now we have shown, at [page 85], that the density and pressure in the solar nebula, at the stage there specified, could not have been more than the 403 millionth part of those of our atmosphere, and consequently were justified in asserting that in it there could be almost no heat whatever.