CHAPTER XXV.

DARK STARS.

Dark stars are of sun-like dimensions, but of planetary obscurity. They

constitute a realm scarcely penetrable by direct investigation, and

therefore eminently inviting to speculative thought. They are

indefinitely numerous; they may be, in many cases, enormously massive

and bulky; they are probably endowed, in general, with very high

velocities: some are perhaps among our nearest neighbours in space. They

exist both in a solitary and in an associated condition. The dynamical

relations of unattached dark stars, although of the deepest interest,

from their bearing upon large questions of sidereal construction, are

unknown, and seem likely long to remain so; but in mixed systems of

shining and obscure bodies they are readily open to investigation. Such

systems occur quite freely, as we learn from observations of three

distinct kinds. Their unseen members variously betray their presence:

(i.) by perturbing the orbital movements of visually double stars; (ii.)

by occasioning periodic changes of velocity in visually single stars;

(iii.) by occulting their bright primaries, and so causing them to be

affected with a special type of variability. In the first case, the

effects can be discerned telescopically, in the second they come out

spectrographically, in the third they are both photometric and

spectrographic. Solitary dark globes, on the other hand, are brought

within our ken in only one fashion. Given a certain combination of

circumstances of a barely conjecturable nature, they leap into light as

Novæ, and in this capacity attain various degrees of notoriety.

The existence of an “invisible” department in astronomy was divined by

Laplace; it was demonstrated by Bessel through his discovery, with the

mind’s eye, of the semi-obscure satellites of Sirius and Procyon. Its

importance cannot well be exaggerated. Unseen bodies may, for aught we

can tell, predominate in mass over the sum-total of those that shine;

they supply possibly the chief part of the motive power of the universe.

They appear, at any rate, to be profusely distributed throughout its

compass. One star in six, by a fair estimate, is a spectroscopic binary;

and spectroscopic binaries commonly disclose their nature, not by the

doubling, but by the shifting of their spectral lines. This is as much

as to say that one of the revolving masses radiates imperfectly or not

at all. Again, temporary stars presumably rise from crowded ranks. For

every one that blazes into view, multitudes must remain undistinguished.

The raw material of such outbursts is doubtless lavishly provided, while

the accidents actually occasioning them must be few. Stellar apparitions

thus derive extraordinary importance from their implication of an

unfathomable background stored with effete or undeveloped suns, the

presence of which evades immediate cognisance.

“Dark stars” need not be absolutely obscure. Some, at any rate, may be

feebly luminous, though powerfully attractive, like the companions of

the Dog stars. These, if situated much nearer to their primaries, would

escape telescopic recognition, and could challenge spectrographic notice

only indirectly, through the motion-displacements due to their influence

on the brilliant spectra superposed upon, and effacing their own. In

other cases, stars are swayed from their computed paths by the power of

entirely rayless satellites. The fourth member of the system of ζ

Cancri, and the hypothetical third component of 70 Ophiuchi appear to be

dark in the strictest sense. Most probably an indefinite number of

gradations connect the planetary and sun-like states. Thus in some Algol

pairs the occulting body is to our appreciation obscure; in others it

gives some, though very little light; while in a third variety the

companions stand on the same level of lustre. Algol itself, U Cephei,

and Y Cygni specifically exemplify these differences. They manifest

themselves as well in non-eclipsing spectroscopic binaries. A minority,

headed by β Aurigæ, consist of globes fully luminous; a few, such as α

Virginis and ο Leonis, show traces of a second spectrum; but most are

real crypto-doubles, only one member of which emits any perceptible

light. With these the heavens may be said to swarm.

A number of interesting questions are suggested by the vast numbers and

singular relationships of dark stars. What is their history? What their

destiny? What their function in the universal scheme of things? The view

commonly taken of them is that they are antiquated suns—suns in a state

of senile decay—suns that, having used up their radiative vitality, are

relegated to a lower cosmic plane. Such there must be, unless

regenerative machinery be at work to supply, in some unimagined way, the

perennial waste patent to our senses. Suns wear out, yet do not incur

annihilation. They must survive their faculty of shining. Immense, but

strictly limited reservoirs of energy, they are constructed, not for its

economical storage, but for its rapid expenditure. Its exhaustion,

which, to our apprehension, is simply a question of time, will leave

them gigantic earths, solid, inert globes, with only their gravitative

force unimpaired. That quondam-suns of this description pursue their

unnoticed journeys through space, cannot reasonably be denied; they

undoubtedly swell the hosts of dark stars; yet there are indications

that these are not mainly of the effete quality—that they do not merely

represent the _caput mortuum_ resulting from one inexorable evolutionary

process.

The frequent association of obscure with brilliantly luminous stars is

very remarkable. Algol and its companion make a typical instance. They

are assuredly of contemporaneous, and, judging by the usual criteria, of

comparatively recent origin. The closeness of the system formed by them

denotes, on the theory of tidal evolution, that it has, during no very

long time, been subject to such modifying influence; and Algol itself

bears all the marks of stellar juvenility. Another specially instructive

example among non-eclipsing binaries is afforded by Castor. Here a great

Sirian sun has an obscure and a brilliant attendant circulating

respectively in less than three days and in several hundred years. Now

the remote component must have separated from the parent sphere long

before the close satellite came into being; yet it is at the acme of

vitality, while that of the junior star is, so far as radiative symptoms

can tell, already spent. Nor is there any warrant for assuming that they

differ considerably in mass. Indeed, whatever disparity there may be is

just as likely as not to be _in the wrong direction_. A doubt thus

arises whether the shining of suns depends solely upon temperature; for

gradations of cooling cannot possibly account for the abrupt contrasts

of luminosity met with in mutually revolving globes. Irresistibly the

hypothesis presents itself that, among the varieties of the cosmos,

there may be a multitude of bodies conditioned in most respects like

suns, but which have never attained to the possession of a photosphere,

and have consequently remained imperfect radiators. The formation of the

dazzling cloud-shell by which suns are visibly bounded, is a baffling

enigma. It must involve an intricate combination of circumstances, not

always perhaps realised. Should any of them fail, a “dark star” would

result—a body intensely hot, yet destitute of the apparatus requisite

for the effective diffusion of light and heat.

We can now see that the obscurity of temporary stars previous to their

sudden illumination does not necessarily imply that they were effete.

Their galactic preference also argues the contrary. The Milky Way is

apparently a region where development has not gone far. Things are there

more nearly in their primitive state than elsewhere in the sidereal

world. Growing and flourishing suns seem to congregate in that vast

gathering-ground, rather than those that have seen better days. Hence,

if stellar apparitions signified the rekindling of stars sunk to

extinction through age, the Milky Way is precisely the part of the

heavens in which we should least look for their occurrence. That they

frequent it almost exclusively, helps to convince us that their

antecedent dimness was not due to decrepitude. This inference is

confirmed by the character of their spectra. The light suddenly acquired

has the quality considered to mark an early stage of sidereal

development. The blaze of a helium star can with difficulty be supposed

to proceed from a highly-condensed or semi-solidified body.

Dark stars must then, on this showing, be divided into two classes, the

first consisting of suns on the retired list, the second, of those

incapacitated by nature for active service. Their discrimination in

practice can scarcely be effected, with our present resources, otherwise

than tentatively or by conjecture. Still it may not be in all cases

hopeless. To take one instance. The system of 61 Cygni is held by

Wilsing of Potsdam to include one or more unseen members. If so, their

place—since the associated group bears many marks of antiquity—should be

found among lapsed suns. And this suggests the further thought that, in

a few more ages, the entire family may have ceased from radiation, and

will continue, in the rayless void, to fulfil their mutual rounds and

pursue their way towards an unknown goal. That many such blind systems

exist, inaccessibly to observation, is a conjecture which can neither be

verified nor refuted.

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