Myths and Marvels of Astronomy Part 6

This, however, would only be the beginning of their troubles. Gradually the more advanced thinkers and the closest observers would perceive that not only had their world undergone processes of development, but that its entire ma.s.s had been formed by such processes--that in fact it had not been created at all, in the sense in which they had understood the word, but had _grown_. This would be very dreadful to these creatures, because they would not readily be able to dispossess their minds of the notion that they were the most important beings in the universe, their domain of s.p.a.ce coextensive with the universe, the duration of their world coextensive with time.

But pa.s.sing over the difficulties thus arising, and the persecution and abuse to which those would be subjected who maintained the dangerous doctrine that their fruit home had been developed, not created, let us consider how these creatures would regard the question of other worlds than their own. At first they would naturally be unwilling to admit the possibility that other worlds as important as their own could exist. But if after a time they found reason to believe that their world was only one of several belonging to a certain tree system, the idea would occur to them, and would gradually come to be regarded as something more than probable, that those other fruit worlds, like their own, might be the abode of living creatures. And probably at first, while as yet the development of their own world was little understood, they would conceive the notion that all the fruits, large or small, upon their tree system were in the same condition as their own, and either inhabited by similar races or at least in the same full vigour of life-bearing existence. But so soon as they recognised the law of development of their own world, and the relation between such development and their own requirements, they would form a different opinion, if they found that only during certain stages of their world's existence life could exist upon it. If, for instance, they perceived that their fruit world must once have been so bitter and harsh in texture that no creatures in the least degree like themselves could have lived upon it, and that it was pa.s.sing slowly but surely through processes by which it would become one day dry and shrivelled and unable to support living creatures, they would be apt, if their reasoning powers were fairly developed, to inquire whether other fruits which they saw around them on their tree system were either in the former or in the latter condition. If they found reason to believe certain fruits were in one or other of these stages, they would regard such fruits as not yet the abode of life or as past the life-supporting era. It seems probable even that another idea would suggest itself to some among their bolder thinkers. Recognising in their own world in several instances what to their ideas resembled absolute waste of material or of force, it might appear to them quite possible that some, perhaps even a large proportion, of the fruits upon their tree were not only not supporting life at the particular epoch of observation, but never had supported life and never would--that, through some cause or other, life would never appear upon such fruits even when they were excellently fitted for the support of life. They might even conceive that some among the fruits of their tree had failed or would fail to come to the full perfection of fruit life.

Looking beyond their own tree--that is, the tree to which their own fruit world belonged--they would perceive other trees, though their visual powers might not enable them to know whether such trees bore fruit, whether they were in other respects like their own, whether those which seemed larger or smaller were really so, or owed their apparent largeness to nearness, or their apparent smallness to great distance.

They would be apt perhaps to generalise a little too daringly respecting these remote tree systems, concluding too confidently that a shrub or a flower was a tree system like their own, or that a great tree, every branch of which was far larger than their entire tree system, belonged to the same order and bore similar fruit. They might mistake, also, in forgetting the probable fact that as every fruit in their own tree system had its own period of life, very brief compared with the entire existence of the fruit, so every tree might have its own fruit-bearing season. Thus, contemplating a tree which they supposed to be like their own in its nature, they might say, 'Yonder is a tree system crowded with fruits, each the abode of many myriads of creatures like ourselves:'

whereas in reality the tree might be utterly unlike their own, might not yet have reached or might long since have pa.s.sed the fruit-bearing stage, might when in that stage bear fruit utterly unlike any they could even imagine, and each such fruit during its brief life-bearing condition might be inhabited by living beings utterly unlike any creatures they could conceive.

Yet again, we can very well imagine that the inhabitants of our fruit world, though they might daringly overleap the narrow limits of s.p.a.ce and time within which their actual life or the life of their race was cast, though they might learn to recognise the development of their own world and of others like it, even from the very blossom, would be utterly unable to conceive the possibility that the tree itself to which their world belonged had developed by slow processes of growth from a time when it was less even than their own relatively minute home.

Still less would it seem credible to them, or even conceivable, that the whole forest region to which they belonged, containing many orders of trees differing altogether from their own tree system, besides plants and shrubs, and flowers and herbs (forms of vegetation of whose use they could form no just conception whatever), had itself grown; that once the entire forest domain had been under vast ma.s.ses of water--the substance which occasionally visited their world in the form of small drops; that such changes were but minute local phenomena of a world infinitely higher in order than their own; that that world in turn was but one of the least of the worlds forming a yet higher system; and so on _ad infinitum_. Such ideas would seem to them not merely inconceivable, but many degrees beyond the widest conceptions of s.p.a.ce and time which they could regard as admissible.

Our position differs only in degree, not in kind, from that of these imagined creatures, and the reasoning which we perceive (though they could not) to be just for such creatures is just for us also. It was perfectly natural that before men recognised the evidences of development in the structure of our earth they should regard the earth and all things upon the earth and visible from the earth as formed by special creative acts precisely as we see them now. But so soon as they perceived that the earth is undergoing processes of development and has undergone such processes in the past, it was reasonable, though at first painful, to conclude that on this point they had been mistaken.

Yet as we recognise the absurdity of the supposition that, because fruits and trees grow, and were not made in a single instant as we know them, therefore there is no Supreme Being, so may we justly reject as absurd the same argument, enlarged in scale, employed to induce the conclusion that because planets and solar systems have been developed to their present condition, and were not created in their present form, therefore there is no Creator, no G.o.d. I do not know that the argument ever has been used in this form; but it has been used to show that those who believe in the development of worlds and systems must of necessity be atheists, an even more mischievous conclusion than the other; for none who had not examined the subject would be likely to adopt the former conclusion, but many might be willing to believe that a number of their fellow-men hold obnoxious tenets, without inquiring closely or at all into the reasoning on which the a.s.sertion had been based.

But it is more important to notice how our views respecting other worlds should be affected by those circ.u.mstances in the evidence _we_ have, which correspond with the features of the evidence on which the imagined inhabitants of the fruit world would form their opinion. It was natural that when men first began to reason about themselves and their home they should reject the idea of other worlds like ours, and perhaps it was equally natural that when first the idea was entertained that the planets may be worlds like ours, men should conceive that all those worlds are in the same condition as ours. But it would be, or rather it _is_, as unreasonable for men to maintain such an opinion now, when the laws of planetary development are understood, when the various dimensions of the planets are known, and when the shortness of the life-supporting period of a planet's existence compared with the entire duration of the planet has been clearly recognised, as it would be for the imagined inhabitants of a small fruit on a tree to suppose that all the other fruits on the tree, though some manifestly far less advanced in development and others far more advanced than their own, were the abode of the same forms of life, though these forms were seen to require those conditions, and no other, corresponding to the stage of development through which their own world was pa.s.sing.

Viewing the universe of suns and worlds in the manner here suggested, we should adopt a theory of other worlds which would hold a position intermediate between the Brewsterian and the Whewellite theories. (It is not on this account that I advocate it, let me remark in pa.s.sing, but simply because it accords with the evidence, which is not the case with the others.) Rejecting on the one hand the theory of the plurality of worlds in the sense implying that all existing worlds are inhabited, and on the other hand the theory of but one world, we should accept a theory which might be ent.i.tled the Paucity of Worlds, only that relative not absolute paucity must be understood. It is absolutely certain that this theory is the correct one, if we admit two postulates, neither of which can be reasonably questioned--viz., first, that the life-bearing era of any world is short compared with the entire duration of that world; and secondly, that there can have been no cause which set all the worlds in existence, not simultaneously, which would be amazing enough, but (which would be infinitely more surprising) in such a way that after pa.s.sing each through its time of preparation, longer for the large worlds and shorter for the small worlds, they all reached at the same time the life-bearing era. But quite apart from this antecedent probability, amounting as it does to absolute certainty if these two highly probably postulates are admitted, we have the actual evidence of the planets we can examine--that evidence proving incontestably, as I have shown elsewhere, that such planets as Jupiter and Saturn are still in the state of preparation, still so intensely hot that no form of life could possibly exist upon them, and that such bodies as our moon have long since pa.s.sed the life-bearing stage, and are to all intents and purposes defunct.

But may we not go farther? Recognising in our own world, in many instances, what to our ideas resembles waste--waste seeds, waste lives, waste races, waste regions, waste forces--recognising superfluity and superabundance in all the processes and in all the works of nature, should it not appear at least possible that some, perhaps even a large proportion, of the worlds in the mult.i.tudinous systems peopling s.p.a.ce, are not only not now supporting life, but never have supported life and never will? Does this idea differ in kind, however largely to our feeble conceptions it may seem to differ in degree, from the idea of the imagined creatures on a fruit, that some or even many fruits excellently fitted for the support of life might not subserve that purpose? And as those creatures might conceive (as we _know_) that some fruits, even many, fail to come to the full perfection of fruit life, may not we without irreverence conceive (as higher beings than ourselves may _know_) that a planet or a sun may fail in the making? We cannot say that in such a case there would be a waste or loss of material, though we may be unable to conceive how the lost sun or planet could be utilised. Our imagined insect reasoners would be unable to imagine that fruits plucked from their tree system were otherwise than wasted, for they would conceive that their idea of the purpose of fruits was the only true one; yet they would be altogether mistaken, as we may be in supposing the main purpose of planetary existence is the support of life.

In like manner, when we pa.s.s in imagination beyond the limits of our own system, we may learn a useful lesson from the imagined creatures'

reasoning about other tree systems than that to which their world belonged. Astronomers have been apt to generalise too daringly respecting remote stars and star systems, as though our solar system were a true picture of all solar systems, the system of stars to which our sun belongs a true picture of all star systems. They have been apt to forget that, as every world in our own system has its period of life, short by comparison with the entire duration of the world, so each solar system, each system of such systems, may have its own life-bearing season, infinitely long according to our conceptions, but very short indeed compared with the entire duration of which the life-bearing season would be only a single era.

Lastly, though men may daringly overleap the limits of time and s.p.a.ce within which their lives are cast, though they may learn to recognise the development of their own world and of others like it even from the blossom of nebulosity, they seem unable to rise to the conception that the mighty tree which during remote aeons bore those nebulous blossoms sprang itself from cosmical germs. We are unable to conceive the nature of such germs; the processes of development affecting them belong to other orders than any processes we know of, and required periods compared with which the inconceivable, nay, the inexpressible periods required for the development of the parts of our universe, are as mere instants. Yet have we every reason which a.n.a.logy can afford to believe that even the development of a whole universe such as ours should be regarded as but a minute local phenomenon of a universe infinitely higher in order, that universe in turn but a single member of a system of such universes, and so on, even _ad infinitum_. To reject the belief that this is possible is to share the folly of beings such as we have conceived regarding their tiny world as a fit centre whence to measure the universe, while yet, from such a stand-point, this little earth on which we live would be many degrees beyond the limits where for them the inconceivable would begin. To reject the belief that this is not only possible, but real, is to regard the few short steps by which man has advanced towards the unknown as a measurable approach towards limits of s.p.a.ce, towards the beginning and the end of all things. Until it can be shown that s.p.a.ce is bounded by limits beyond which neither matter nor void exists, that time had a beginning before which it was not and tends to an end after which it will exist no more, we may confidently accept the belief that the history of our earth is as evanescent in time as the earth itself is evanescent in s.p.a.ce, and that nothing we can possibly learn about our earth, or about the system it belongs to, or about systems of such systems, can either prove or disprove aught respecting the scheme and mode of government of the universe itself. It is true now as it was in days of yore, and it will remain true as long as the earth and those who dwell on it endure, that what men know is nothing, the unknown infinite.

VI.

_SUNS IN FLAMES._

In November 1876 news arrived of a catastrophe the effects of which must in all probability have been disastrous, not to a district, or a country, or a continent, or even a world, but to a whole system of worlds. The catastrophe happened many years ago--probably at least a hundred--yet the messenger who brought the news has not been idle on his way, but has sped along at a rate which would suffice to circle this earth eight times in the course of a second. That messenger has had, however, to traverse millions of millions of miles, and only reached our earth November 1876. The news he brought was that a sun like our own was in conflagration; and on a closer study of his message something was learned as to the nature of the conflagration, and a few facts tending to throw light on the question (somewhat interesting to ourselves) whether our own sun is likely to undergo a similar mishap at any time.

What would happen if he did, we know already. The sun which has just met with this disaster--that is, which so suffered a few generations ago--blazed out for a time with several hundred times its former l.u.s.tre.

If our sun were to increase as greatly in light and heat, the creatures on the side of our earth turned towards him at the time would be destroyed in an instant. Those on the dark or night hemisphere would not have to wait for their turn till the earth, by rotating, carried them into view of the destroying sun. In much briefer s.p.a.ce the effect of his new fires would be felt all over the earth's surface. The heavens would be dissolved and the elements would melt with fervent heat. In fact no description of such a catastrophe, as affecting the night half of the earth, could possibly be more effective and poetical than St. Peter's account of the day of the Lord, coming 'as a thief in the night; in the which the heavens shall pa.s.s away with a great noise, and the elements shall melt with fervent heat, the earth also and the works that are therein being burned up;' though I imagine the apostle would have been scarce prepared to admit that the earth was in danger from a solar conflagration. Indeed, according to another account, the sun was to be turned into darkness and the moon into blood, before that great and notable day of the Lord came--a description corresponding well with solar and lunar eclipses, the most noteworthy 'signs in the heavens,'

but agreeing very ill with the outburst of a great solar conflagration.

Before proceeding to inquire into the singular and significant circ.u.mstances of the recent outburst, it may be found interesting to examine briefly the records which astronomy has preserved of similar catastrophes in former years. These may be compared to the records of accidents on the various railway lines in a country or continent. Those other suns which we can stars are engines working the mighty mechanism of planetary systems, as our sun maintains the energies of our own system; and it is a matter of some interest to us to inquire in how many cases, among the many suns within the range of vision, destructive explosions occur. We may take the opportunity, later, to inquire into the number of cases in which the machinery of solar systems appears to have broken down.

The first case of a solar conflagration on record is that of the new star observed by Hipparchus some 2000 years ago. In his time, and indeed until quite recently, an object of this kind was called a new star, or a temporary star. But we now know that when a star makes its appearance where none had before been visible, what has really happened has been that a star too remote to be seen has become visible through some rapid increase of splendour. When the new splendour dies out again, it is not that a star has ceased to exist; but simply that a faint star which had increased greatly in l.u.s.tre has resumed its original condition.

Hipparchus's star must have been a remarkable object, for it was visible in full daylight, whence we may infer that it was many times brighter than the blazing Dog-star. It is interesting in the history of science, as having led Hipparchus to draw up a catalogue of stars, the first on record. Some moderns, being sceptical, rejected this story as a fiction; but Biot examining Chinese Chronicles[32] relating to the times of Hipparchus, finds that in 134 B.C. (about nine years before the date of Hipparchus's catalogue) a new star was recorded as having appeared in the constellation Scorpio.

The next new star (that is, stellar conflagration) on record is still more interesting, as there appears some reason for believing that before long we may see another outburst of the same star. In the years 945, 1264, and 1572, brilliant stars appeared in the region of the heavens between Cepheus and Ca.s.siopeia. Sir J. Herschel remarks, that, 'from the imperfect account we have of the places of the two earlier, as compared with that of the last, which was well determined, as well as from the tolerably near coincidence of the intervals of their appearance, we may suspect them, with Goodricke, to be one and the same star, with a period of 312 or perhaps of 156 years.' The latter period may very reasonably be rejected, as one can perceive no reason why the intermediate returns of the star to visibility should have been overlooked, the star having appeared in a region which never sets. It is to be noted that, the period from 945 to 1264 being 319 years, and that from 1264 to 1572 only 308 years, the period of this star (if Goodricke is correct in supposing the three outbursts to have occurred in the same star) would seem to be diminishing. At any time, then, this star might now blaze out in the region between Ca.s.siopeia and Cepheus, for more than 304 years have already pa.s.sed since its last outburst.

As the appearance of a new star led Hipparchus to undertake the formation of his famous catalogue, so did the appearance of the star in Ca.s.siopeia, in 1572, lead the Danish astronomer Tycho Brahe to construct a new and enlarged catalogue. (This, be it remembered, was before the invention of the telescope.) Returning one evening (November 11, 1572, old style) from his laboratory to his dwelling-house, he found, says Sir J. Herschel, 'a group of country people gazing at a star, which he was sure did not exist an hour before. This was the star in question.'

The description of the star and its various changes is more interesting at the present time, when the true nature of these phenomena is understood, than it was even in the time when the star was blazing in the firmament. It will be gathered from that description and from what I shall have to say farther on about the results of recent observations on less splendid new stars, that, if this star should reappear in the next few years, our observers will probably be able to obtain very important information from it. The message from it will be much fuller and more distinct than any we have yet received from such stars, though we have learned quite enough to remain in no sort of doubt as to their general nature.

The star remained visible, we learn, about sixteen months, during which time it kept its place in the heavens without the least variation. 'It had all the radiance of the fixed stars, and twinkled like them; and was in all respects like Sirius, except that it surpa.s.sed Sirius in brightness and magnitude.' It appeared larger than Jupiter, which was at that time at his brightest, and was scarcely inferior to Venus. _It did not acquire this l.u.s.tre gradually_, but shone forth at once of its full size and brightness, 'as if,' said the chroniclers of the time, 'it had been of instantaneous creation.' For three weeks it shone with full splendour, during which time it could be seen at noonday 'by those who had good eyes, and knew where to look for it.' But before it had been seen a month, it became visibly smaller, and from the middle of December 1572 till March 1574, when it entirely disappeared, it continually diminished in magnitude. 'As it decreased in size, it varied in colour: at first its light was white and extremely bright; it then became yellowish; afterwards of a ruddy colour like Mars; and finished with a pale livid white resembling the colour of Saturn.' All the details of this account should be very carefully noted. It will presently be seen that they are highly characteristic.

Those who care to look occasionally at the heavens to know whether this star has returned to view may be interested to learn whereabouts it should be looked for. The place may be described as close to the back of the star-gemmed chair in which Ca.s.siopeia is supposed to sit--a little to the left of the seat of the chair, supposing the chair to be looked at in its normal position. But as Ca.s.siopeia's chair is always inverted when the constellation is most conveniently placed for observation, and indeed as nine-tenths of those who know the constellation suppose the chair's legs to be the back, and _vice versa_, it may be useful to mention that the star was placed somewhat thus with respect to the straggling W formed by the five chief stars of Ca.s.siopeia. There is a star not very far from the place here indicated, but rather nearer to the middle angle of the W. This, however, is not a bright star; and cannot possibly be mistaken for the expected visitant. (The place of Tycho's star is indicated in my School Star-Atlas and also in my larger Library Atlas. The same remark applies to both the new stars in the Serpent-Bearer, presently to be described.)

[Ill.u.s.tration]

In August 1596 the astronomer Fabricius observed a new star in the neck of the Whale, which also after a time disappeared. It was not noticed again till the year 1637, when an observer rejoicing in the name of Phocyllides Holwarda observed it, and, keeping a watch, after it had vanished, upon the place where it had appeared, saw it again come into view nine months after its disappearance. Since then it has been known as a variable star with a period of about 331 days 8 hours. When brightest this star is of the second magnitude. It indicates a somewhat singular remissness on the part of the astronomers of former days, that a star shining so conspicuously for a fortnight, once in each period of 331-1/3 days, should for so many years have remained undetected. It may, perhaps, be thought that, noting this, I should withdraw the objection raised above against Sir J. Herschel's idea that the star in Ca.s.siopeia may return to view once in 156 years, instead of once in 312 years. But there is a great difference between a star which at its brightest shines only as a second-magnitude star, so that it has twenty or thirty companions of equal or greater l.u.s.tre above the horizon along with it, and a star which surpa.s.ses three-fold the splendid Sirius. We have seen that even in Tycho Brahe's day, when probably the stars were not nearly so well known by the community at large, the new star in Ca.s.siopeia had not shone an hour before the country people were gazing at it with wonder. Besides, Ca.s.siopeia and the Whale are constellations very different in position. The familiar stars of Ca.s.siopeia are visible on every clear night, for they never set. The stars of the Whale, at least of the part to which the wonderful variable star belongs, are below the horizon during rather more than half the twenty-four hours; and a new star there would only be noticed, probably (unless of exceeding splendour), if it chanced to appear during that part of the year when the Whale is high above the horizon between eventide and midnight, or in the autumn and early winter.

It is a noteworthy circ.u.mstance about the variable star in the Whale, deservedly called Mira, or The Wonderful, that it does not always return to the same degree of brightness. Sometimes it has been a very bright second-magnitude star when at its brightest, at others it has barely exceeded the third magnitude. Hevelius relates that during the four years between October 1672 and December 1676, Mira did not show herself at all! As this star fades out, it changes in colour from white to red.

Towards the end of September 1604, a new star made its appearance in the constellation Ophiuchus, or the Serpent-Bearer. Its place was near the heel of the right foot of 'Ophiuchus huge.' Kepler tells us that it had no hair or tail, and was certainly not a comet. Moreover, like the other fixed stars, it kept its place unchanged, showing unmistakably that it belonged to the star-depths, not to nearer regions. 'It was exactly like one of the stars, except that in the vividness of its l.u.s.tre, and the quickness of its sparkling, it exceeded anything that he had ever seen before. It was every moment changing into some of the colours of the rainbow, as yellow, orange, purple, and red; though it was generally white when it was at some distance from the vapours of the horizon.' In fact, these changes of colour must not be regarded as indicating aught but the star's superior brightness. Every very bright star, when close to the horizon, shows these colours, and so much the more distinctly as the star is the brighter. Sirius, which surpa.s.ses the brightest stars of the northern hemisphere full four times in l.u.s.tre, shows these changes of colour so conspicuously that they were regarded as specially characteristic of this star, insomuch that Homer speaks of Sirius (not by name, but as the 'star of autumn') shining most beautifully 'when laved of ocean's wave'--that is, when close to the horizon. And our own poet, Tennyson, following the older poet, sings how

the fiery Sirius alters hue, And bickers into red and emerald.

The new star was brighter than Sirius, and was about five degrees lower down, when at its highest above the horizon, than Sirius when _he_ culminates. Five degrees being equal to nearly ten times the apparent diameter of the moon, it will be seen how much more favourable the conditions were in the case of Kepler's star for those coloured scintillations which characterised that orb. Sirius never rises very high above the horizon. In fact, at his highest (near midnight in winter, and, of course, near midday in summer) he is about as high above the horizon as the sun at midday in the first week in February. Kepler's star's greatest height above the horizon was little more than three-fourths of this, or equal to about the sun's elevation at midday on January 13 or 14 in any year.

Like Tycho Brahe's star, Kepler's was brighter even than Jupiter, and only fell short of Venus in splendour. It preserved its l.u.s.tre for about three weeks, after which time it gradually grew fainter and fainter until some time between October 1605 and February 1606, when it disappeared. The exact day is unknown, as during that interval the constellation of the Serpent-Bearer is above the horizon in the day-time only. But in February 1606, when it again became possible to look for the new star in the night-time, it had vanished. It probably continued to glow with sufficient l.u.s.tre to have remained visible, but for the veil of light under which the sun concealed it, for about sixteen months altogether. In fact, it seems very closely to have resembled Tycho's star, not only in appearance and in the degree of its greatest brightness, but in the duration of its visibility.

In the year 1670 a new star appeared in the constellation Cygnus, attaining the third magnitude. It remained visible, but not with this l.u.s.tre, for nearly two years. After it had faded almost out of view, it flickered up again for awhile, but soon after it died out, so as to be entirely invisible. Whether a powerful telescope would still have shown it is uncertain, but it seems extremely probable. It may be, indeed, that this new star in the Swan is the same which has made its appearance within the last few weeks; but on this point the evidence is uncertain.

On April 20, 1848, Mr. Hind (Superintendent of the Nautical Almanac, and discoverer of ten new members of the solar system) noticed a new star of the fifth magnitude in the Serpent-Bearer, but in quite another part of that large constellation than had been occupied by Kepler's star. A few weeks later, it rose to the fourth magnitude. But afterwards its light diminished until it became invisible to ordinary eyesight. It did not vanish utterly, however. It is still visible with telescopic power, shining as a star of the eleventh magnitude, that is five magnitudes below the faintest star discernible with the unaided eye.

This is the first new star which has been kept in view since its apparent creation. But we are now approaching the time when it was found that as so-called new stars continue in existence long after they have disappeared from view, so also they are not in reality new, but were in existence long before they became visible to the naked eye.

On May 12, 1866, shortly before midnight, Mr. Birmingham, of Tuam, noticed a star of the second magnitude in the Northern Crown, where hitherto no star visible to the naked eye had been known. Dr. Schmidt, of Athens, who had been observing that region of the heavens the same night, was certain that up to 11 P.M., Athens local time, there was no star above the fourth magnitude in the place occupied by the new star.

So that, if this negative evidence can be implicitly relied on, the new star must have sprung at least from the fourth, and probably from a much lower magnitude, to the second, in less than three hours--eleven o'clock at Athens corresponding to about nine o'clock by Irish railway time. A Mr. Barker, of London, Canada, put forward a claim to having seen the new star as early as May 4--a claim not in the least worth investigating, so far as the credit of first seeing the new star is concerned, but exceedingly important in its bearing on the nature of the outburst affecting the star in Corona. It is unpleasant to have to throw discredit on any definite a.s.sertion of facts; unfortunately, however, Mr. Barker, when his claim was challenged, laid before Mr. Stone, of the Greenwich Observatory, such very definite records of observations made on May 4, 8, 9, and 10, that we have no choice but either to admit these observations, or to infer that he experienced the delusive effects of a very singular trick of memory. He mentions in his letter to Mr. Stone that he had sent full particulars of his observations on those early dates to Professor Watson, of Ann Arbor University, on May 17; but (again unfortunately) instead of leaving that letter to tell its own story in Professor Watson's hands, he asked Professor Watson to return it to him: so that when Mr. Stone very naturally asked Professor Watson to furnish a copy of this important letter, Professor Watson had to reply, 'About a month ago, Mr. Barker applied to me for this letter, and I returned it to him, as requested, without preserving a copy. I can, however,' he proceeded, 'state positively that he did not mention any actual observation earlier than May 14. He said he thought he had noticed a strange star in the Crown about two weeks before the date of his first observation--May 14--but not particularly, and that he did not recognise it until the 14th. He did not give any date, and did not even seem positive as to ident.i.ty.... When I returned the letter of May 17, I made an endors.e.m.e.nt across the first page, in regard to its genuineness, and attached my signature. I regret that I did not preserve a copy of the letter in question; but if the original is produced, it will appear that my recollection of its contents is correct.' I think no one can blame Mr. Stone, if, on the receipt of this letter, he stated that he had not the 'slightest hesitation' in regarding Mr. Barker's earlier observations as 'not ent.i.tled to the slightest credit.'[33]

It may be fairly taken for granted that the new star leapt very quickly, if not quite suddenly, to its full splendour. Birmingham, as we have seen, was the first to notice it, on May 12. On the evening of May 13, Schmidt of Athens discovered it independently, and a few hours later it was noticed by a French engineer named Courbebaisse. Afterwards, Baxendell of Manchester, and others independently saw the star. Schmidt, examining Argelander's charts of 324,000 stars (charts which I have had the pleasure of mapping in a single sheet), found that the star was not a new one, but had been set down by Argelander as between the ninth and tenth magnitudes. Referring to Argelander's list, we find that the star had been twice observed--viz., on May 18, 1855, and on March 31, 1856.

Birmingham wrote at once to Mr. Huggins, who, in conjunction with the late Dr. Miller, had been for some time engaged in observing stars and other celestial objects with the spectroscope. These two observers at once directed their telescope armed with spectroscopic adjuncts--the telespectroscope is the pleasing name of the compound instrument--to the new-comer. The result was rather startling. It may be well, however, before describing it, to indicate in a few words the meaning of various kinds of spectroscopic evidence.

The light of the sun, sifted out by the spectroscope, shows all the colours but not all the tints of the rainbow. It is spread out into a large rainbow-tinted streak, but at various places (a few thousand) along the streak there are missing tints; so that in fact the streak is crossed by a mult.i.tude of dark lines. We know that these lines are due to the absorptive action of vapours existing in the atmosphere of the sun, and from the position of the lines we can tell what the vapours are. Thus, hydrogen by its absorptive action produces four of the bright lines. The vapour of iron is there, the vapour of sodium, magnesium, and so on. Again, we know that these same vapours, which, by their absorptive action, cut off rays of certain tints, emit light of just those tints. In fact, if the glowing ma.s.s of the sun could be suddenly extinguished, leaving his atmosphere in its present intensely heated condition, the light of the faint sun which would thus be left us would give (under spectroscopic scrutiny) those very rays which now seem wanting. There would be a spectrum of mult.i.tudinous bright lines, instead of a rainbow-tinted spectrum crossed by mult.i.tudinous dark lines. It is, indeed, only by contrast that the dark lines appear dark, just as it is only by contrast that the solar spots seem dark. Not only the penumbra but the umbra of a sun-spot, not only the umbra but the nucleus, not only the nucleus but the deeper black which seems to lie at the core of the nucleus, shine really with a l.u.s.tre far exceeding that of the electric light, though by contrast with the rest of the sun's surface the penumbra looks dark, the umbra darker still, the nucleus deep black, and the core of the nucleus jet black. So the dark lines across the solar spectrum mark where certain rays are relatively faint, though in reality intensely l.u.s.trous. Conceive another change than that just imagined. Conceive the sun's globe to remain as at present, but the atmosphere to be excited to many times its present degree of light and splendour: then would all these dark lines become bright, and the rainbow-tinted background would be dull or even quite dark by contrast.

This is not a mere fancy. At times, local disturbances take place in the sun which produce just such a change in certain const.i.tuents of the sun's atmosphere, causing the hydrogen, for example, to glow with so intense a heat that, instead of its lines appearing dark, they stand out as bright lines. Occasionally, too, the magnesium in the solar atmosphere (over certain limited regions only, be it remembered) has been known to behave in this manner. It was so during the intensely hot summer of 1872, insomuch that the Italian observer Tacchini, who noticed the phenomenon, attributed to such local overheating of the sun's magnesium vapour the remarkable heat from which we then for a time suffered.

Now, the stars are suns, and the spectrum of a star is simply a miniature of the solar spectrum. Of course, there are characteristic differences. One star has more hydrogen, at least more hydrogen at work absorbing its rays, and thus has the hydrogen lines more strongly marked than they are in the solar spectrum. Another star shows the lines of various metals more conspicuously, indicating that the glowing vapours of such elements, iron, copper, mercury, tin, and so forth, either hang more densely in the star's atmosphere than in our sun's, or, being cooler, absorb their special tints more effectively. But speaking generally, a stellar spectrum is like the solar spectrum. There is the rainbow-tinted streak, which implies that the source of light is glowing solid, liquid, or highly compressed vaporous matter, and athwart the streak there are the mult.i.tudinous dark lines which imply that around the glowing heart of the star there are envelopes of relatively cool vapours.

We can understand, then, the meaning of the evidence obtained from the new star in the Northern Crown.

In the first place, the new star showed the rainbow-tinted streak crossed by dark lines, which indicated its sun-like nature. _But, standing out on that rainbow-tinted streak as on a dark background, were four exceedingly bright lines--lines so bright, though fine, that clearly most of the star's light came from the glowing vapours to which these lines belonged._ Three of the lines belonged to hydrogen, the fourth was not identified with any known line.

Let us distinguish between what can certainly be concluded from this remarkable observation, and what can only be inferred with a greater or less degree of probability.

It is absolutely certain that when Messrs. Huggins and Miller made their observation (by which time the new star had faded from the second to the third magnitude), enormous ma.s.ses of hydrogen around the star were glowing with a heat far more intense than that of the star itself within the hydrogen envelope. It is certain that the increase in the star's light, rendering the star visible which before had been far beyond the range of ordinary eyesight, was due to the abnormal heat of the hydrogen surrounding that remote sun.

But it is not so clear whether the intense glow of the hydrogen was caused by combustion or by intense heat without combustion. The difference between the two causes of increased light is important; because on the opinion we form on this point must depend our opinion as to the probability that our sun may one day experience a similar catastrophe, and also our opinion as to the state of the sun in the Northern Crown after the outburst. To ill.u.s.trate the distinction in question, let us take two familiar cases of the emission of light. A burning coal glows with red light, and so does a piece of iron placed in a coal fire. But the coal and the iron are undergoing very different processes. The coal is burning, and will presently be consumed; the iron is not burning (except in the sense that it is burning hot, which means only that it will make any combustible substance burn which is brought into contact with it), and it will not be consumed though the coal fire be maintained around it for days and weeks and months. So with the hydrogen flames which play at all times over the surface of our own sun.

They are not burning like the hydrogen flames which are used for the oxy-hydrogen lantern. Were the solar hydrogen so burning, the sun would quickly be extinguished. They are simply aglow with intensity of heat, as a ma.s.s of red-hot iron is aglow; and, so long as the sun's energies are maintained, the hydrogen around him will glow in this way without being consumed. As the new fires of the star in the Crown died out rapidly, it is possible that in their case there was actual combustion.

On the other hand, it is also possible, and perhaps on the whole more probable, that the hydrogen surrounding the star was simply set glowing with increased l.u.s.tre owing to some cause not as yet ascertained.

Let us see how these two theories have been actually worded by the students of science themselves who have maintained them.