Part 3
"What hidest thou in thy treasure-caves and cells, Thou hollow-sounding and mysterious main?"
he had in his thoughts the very power which he is commonly supposed to have explained, but which was in truth for him, more than for any man that had ever lived, the mystery of mysteries.
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.
Although I cannot here indicate the exact nature of the reasoning by which the enormous rapidity of the action of gravity is inferred, I must briefly indicate the general argument, that the reader may not suppose the matter to be merely speculative. Suppose that the action of gravity were propagated at the same rate as light. Then the earth would feel the pull of the sun eight minutes or so after she had been in the place where the sun began to exert that particular pull. The direction of the pull then would not be that of the straight line connecting the earth and sun at the moment when the pull was felt, but that of the straight line connecting the sun and the earth eight minutes or so before. For instance, when the earth is at E_{1}, fig. 6, the sun at S would begin to exert a pull in the line E_{1} S, but the earth would only feel this pull when she got to E_{2}, her place eight minutes later, when it would act upon her in the direction E_{2} F, parallel to E_{1} S. Now this pull, E_{2} F, may be divided into two parts, one along E_{2} S, pulling the earth towards the sun S, the other along E_{2} T in the earth's course, _hastening her therefore_. But the maintenance by the earth of the same constant track depends entirely on the action of gravity sunwards. If there is any action in addition, hastening the earth, then she will not keep her course,[6] but will travel in a constantly widening path,--or, in a sort of spiral, very slowly retreating from the sun, but retreating constantly. The change of distance would not be measurable in millions of years; but the increase in the length of the year _would_, before long, be observable. Because there is no such increase, astronomers feel well assured that gravity is not only propagated more swiftly than light, but many times, even, as we have seen, many millions of times, more swiftly.
It is then in an infinitely minute time that the action of gravity traverses all ordinary distances. The earth's pull on the moon takes less than the 50,000,000th part of a second in reaching the moon,--and the particles constituting the mass of the earth act on ourselves, and on all the objects which lie near the earth's surface, in far less than the 10,000,000th part even of this utterly minute time-interval.
Yet age after age has passed during which this infinitely active force has been at work without diminution, and age after age will continue to pass without any change in its activity. For millions of millions of æons it has lasted and will last, so permanent is it; while its operation is felt simultaneously at points millions of millions of star-distances apart. What infinities of distance has this wonderful attractive force traversed!
But even these considerations do not present the greatest of the marvels of gravity. It is wonderful, indeed, to consider a form of attraction possessed by the infinitely minute, and exerted over the infinitely vast, operating in portions of time immeasurably small, and extending its operations throughout time infinite. But the mystery of mysteries is not here. The marvel of marvels is this, that, so far as we can perceive, the force of gravity is exerted without any material connection with the objects moved by it. Matter seems to act where it is not, to use the phraseology of the schools. Of this "action at a distance," Newton himself said, that it is inconceivable, that in point of fact it is impossible. "No man," he said, "who has, in philosophical matters, a competent faculty of thinking," can "for a moment believe that a body can act through a vacuum, without the intervention of anything else by or through which the force may be conveyed from one body to another." Yet this is precisely what gravity seems to do. The ether occupies, indeed, all space; but there is nothing at present known to us by which we can understand how the ether can transmit the force of gravity. The power of the ether in the rapid transmission of undulations seems to attain its limit in the propagation of light and heat and electricity at the rate of nearly 200,000 miles per second. How the ether can act so as to serve as a medium of communication between bodies at all distances, transmitting impressions 10,000,000 times faster, at least, than light travels, nothing at present known to us enables us to say. I have, in a lecture which I gave in America upon the mysteries of the universe, indicated a way in which gravity may be conceived to be generated and transmitted; and I may hereafter describe the conception (based partly on the views of Le Sage). But it is only a conception. There is no phenomenon (except the very form of attraction which has to be explained) tending to show that the conception is correct And even if it be accepted, it brings us face to face with only greater marvels.
At present, however, let this simply be said in conclusion--that the apparent action of gravity at a distance is, of all physical wonders, the greatest yet known to man. If we accept the opinion of Newton, which, indeed, seems to me indisputable, that matter cannot act through a vacuum, then we must admit the existence of properties, as yet unthought of, in the ether of space, or in some still more subtle universe permeating that ether. If, on the other hand, we accept the belief that matter can act at a distance, then is there no miracle, either of those believed in by mankind generally, or of those more generally rejected, which exceeds in marvellousness this wonder of all the wonders of physical science.
FOOTNOTES:
[4] The words of Newton, "Hypotheses non fingo," have been often quoted in such sort as to give an entirely incorrect idea of his real opinion as to the relation between theoretical and practical science. As too commonly understood, they would, in fact, make his discovery of gravitation a great exception to his own rule. They must be taken in connection with his definition of a hypothesis, as "whatsoever is not deduced from phenomena." It is a part of true science, nay, it is the highest office of the student of science to deduce theories from phenomena. Such research stands as high above the simple observation of phenomena as architecture stands above brick-making or stone-cutting. But to frame hypotheses as the old Greeks did, trusting to the power of the understanding independently of the observation of phenomena, is to make bricks without straw and to build with them upon the sand.
[5] The point is explained in a paper called "Our Chief Timepiece Losing Time," in the first series of my "Light Science for Leisure Hours."
[6] In the popular, but incorrect way of speaking, the balance between the centrifugal and the centripetal force will no longer be maintained: the increase of velocity will give the centrifugal force the advantage, and it will slowly draw the body away from the centre. In reality there is no centrifugal _force_, the only force acting on the earth in her course round the sun being the sun's attraction upon her, which, however, must keep bending her course from the straight line, if she is to maintain her distance. In the case above imagined it would not bend her course actively enough.
V.
_THE END OF MANY WORLDS._
A sign has recently appeared in the heavens which has been interpreted in a way suggesting that many worlds like our own have undergone a terrible catastrophe, every living creature upon them being consumed as by fire. I propose briefly to consider some of the thoughts suggested by this strange event.
It is difficult when we look at the star-lit heavens, suggestive as they are of solemn peace, to conceive the stupendous energy, the fierce uproar and tumult, of which even the faintest visible star in reality tells us. Pythagoras spoke of the harmony of the celestial spheres, which we are only prevented from hearing by its continuity. "There's not the smallest orb which thou beholdest," said the science of the middle ages,
"But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubim."
The science of our own time tells us a still stranger story. There's not the smallest orb which thou beholdest, she says, but in his motion throbs like a mighty heart, still pulsating life to the worlds which circle round it. But while our powers of vision are limited to the narrow range of our present telescopes, we cannot watch the action of these great centres of energy, nor can we hope that the uproar of those remote fires will ever reach mortal ears, though to the mind's ear clear and distinct. It is no longer a mere fancy that each star is a sun. Science has made this an assured fact, which no astronomer thinks of doubting. We know that in certain general respects each star resembles our sun. Each is glowing like our sun with an intense heat. Around each, as around our sun, are the vapours of many elements. In each the fires are maintained, as they are maintained in our sun, in some way which may be partly mechanical, partly chemical, but which certainly does not in the least resemble combustion. We know that in each star processes resembling in violence those taking place in our own sun must be continually in progress, and that such processes must be accompanied by a noise and tumult compared with which all the forms of uproar known upon our earth are as absolute silence. The crash of the thunderbolt, the bellowing of the volcano, the awful groaning of the earthquake, the roar of the hurricane, the reverberating peals of loudest thunder, any of these, or all combined, are as nothing compared with the tumult raging over every square mile, every square yard, of the surface of each one among the stars.
If we remember this when we hear of stars varying in brightness, we shall perceive that the least change which could be recognised from our remote stand-point must represent an accession or falling off of energy corresponding to far more than all the energies existing on our earth, or indeed on all the members of the solar system taken together. Astronomers recognise our sun as in one sense a variable star; for we can hardly suppose that he shines with the same degree of brilliancy when many spots mark his surface as when he is quite free from spots; and astronomers know that these changes in the sun's condition correspond to wonderful changes in his activity. When spots are most numerous, the coloured flames rage with fierce energy over his whole globe, metallic vapours are shot forth from below his visible surface with velocities of many miles per second. Whereas, when he has no spots, the coloured flames sink down from their former height of tens of thousands of miles, till they are but a few thousand miles in height; while metallic vapours are seldom emitted, and never to the same height, or with the same velocity, as when the spots are most numerous. But though the sun thus varies in condition, and probably in his total brightness, we cannot suppose that such variations could be recognised from the distance of even the nearest among the fixed stars. What, then, must be the nature of changes taking place in a star, that we, at our enormous distance, should be able to recognise them! We may well believe that the entire aspect of such a star must be changed to the inhabitants, if such there are, of worlds circling around them.
If, however, the changes taking place in stars, whose variations of brightness can just be recognised, must be amazing, how stupendous must be the changes affecting a star which alternates from brightness to invisibility, like Mira, the Star Wonderful, in the constellation of the Whale! how destructive those affecting a star like Eta, of the ship Argo, which has varied from the fourth magnitude to a lustre nearly equalling that of Sirius, and thence to the lowest limit of visibility, in the course of the last hundred years!
Even these changes, however, though justly regarded as among the chief wonders and mysteries of the star-depths, seem in turn to sink into nothingness by comparison with the sudden appearance of a new star, as interpreted by modern scientific observations. Of old, when a new star appeared, it was thought for awhile to be a fresh creation; a new sun set in the centre of a new system of worlds,--a thought which was not then so startling as in our own times it would be reckoned. When the new star was seen slowly to die out until at last it became invisible, men were content to regard it as a sign set in the heavens for a special purpose. Nor did they find much difficulty in associating such a phenomenon with some event of importance occurring during its continuance, or soon after the new star had died out. Such were the explanations offered respecting the exceedingly bright star which made its appearance in the constellation Cassiopeia in the year 1572. The place in which it appeared is shown in fig. 7. It must have sprung into its full glory in a very short time, for Tycho Brahé, the celebrated astronomer, tells us that, returning on November 1, 1572, from his laboratory to his dwelling-house, he saw the new star, which he was certain had not been visible an hour before, shining more brightly than any before seen. It surpassed all the stars in the heavens in brilliancy, and even Jupiter when that planet is at its brightest. Only Venus at her brightest was superior to the new star. For three weeks it shone with full lustre, after which it began slowly to decline. Being situated in a part of the heavens always above the horizon (for European observatories), the star's entire history could be followed. It remained for sixteen months steadfast in its position like the other stars. As it decreased in size it varied in colour. "At first," says an old writer; "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."
In passing it may be remarked that there are reasons for expecting the return of Tycho Brahé's star in the course of a few years. For other new stars have been recorded as seen in the same part of the heavens in the years 945 and 1264, and though the interval from 945 to 1264 (or 319 years) exceeds by 11 years the interval from 1264 to 1572 (or 308 years), yet the difference is but small by comparison with either entire interval; and we may not unreasonably believe that the three new stars seen in Cassiopeia have been only three apparitions of one and the same star, which shines out, with superior lustre, for a few months, once in a period averaging about 313 years. It seems to me not at all unlikely that, some time during the next twenty years, astronomers will have an opportunity of examining, with the telescope and spectroscope, a star which last appeared before either instrument had been invented.